#from the beginning of time to the end of time is the exact song that makes me think of incoherent mubling
i know it’s not really set in stone who is the ‘last’ division in the lineup between bat and dh, but i think the answer is both because they’ll have/be serving the biggest purpose for the endgame 🤔
6 notes
·
View notes
breeding session
words: 1.5k
warnings: 18+ only! smut, somnophilia, kind of dubcon?, established relationship (theyre married), unprotected sex, p in v sex, fingering, breeding, pregnancy mentions
taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog
rafe hums the ending of the song that was playing in the car as he enters the house, tossing his keys into the tray that catches all the junk upon entering your home. he toes his shoes off, eyes searching for you.
usually you'd run up to rafe the second you hear the door open, greeting him with a kiss and asking him how his day was. you've been married for almost a year, and still feel the same excitement every time you see him, the spark of exhilaration that he brings out in you.
“baby?” rafe calls softly as he moves through the house, not wanting to wake you if you decided to nap while he was out golfing. he knows you get so sleepy, almost always around the same time of day, and while you manage to power through the tiredness some days, most of the time you succumb and end up taking a nap so deep that you are near unwakeable.
rafe looks for you in the living room before heading up the stairs, smiling to himself when he sees you lying on the bed on top of the covers, legs curled up as you doze.
rafe doesn't bother to quiet his footsteps as he heads over to give you a kiss on the top of the head, smoothing his hand over your hair. he knows how hard it is to wake you up during these naps, so there's no way some noises from him would pull you from your slumber. sometimes he worries even a fire alarm wouldn't get you up.
rafe takes off his golf shirt to change into something new, keeping his eyes on you, your small body on his bed. he frowns at your flat stomach, covered by a soft dress that you like to wear around the house due to the warm temperatures in the outer banks. you've been trying to get pregnant for almost a month now, currently with no success. you and rafe had what you expected to be a long conversation about the right time to have kids, but turned out to be very short when you were on the exact same page.
rafe sighs as he moves towards the closet doors to toss his shirt in the hamper, again turning to look back at you as he unbuttons his pants, shoving them down his legs. rafe thinks he spots something, kicking the pants away as he moves to the bed to inspect closer.
he crawls from the bottom of the bed to where you are curled up, letting out a low moan when he flips the bottom of your dress up, the flowy fabric moving easily to reveal that you weren't wearing any panties underneath.
rafe leans back to get a better view as he places one hand on your ass, pulling it upward to reveal your cunt to him, which was hidden by your thighs.
rafe instantly starts to swell in his pants, his eyes glancing between your flat stomach that he feels should be swelled with his child already, and your delicate cunt, such a gorgeous soft peach color that it's nearly irresistible to him.
rafe pauses to think to himself. you've made it very clear that you want to be pregnant, and surely he would just be doing his husbandly duty if he fucked you right now, filling you up and letting his cum take while you slept peacefully.
rafe gets off the bed to take his underwear off, not touching his cock until he's back kneeling on the mattress. he plants his hand on your ass again, your pussy looking delectable as his free hand grips his dick, beginning to stroke gently.
he moves along his length until his cock reaches full hardness, rubbing his thumb against your skin to calm you, but you don't even budge, even as rafe let's out low moans, his hips pushing forward into his hand, fucking his fist faster as he imagines being inside you once you are pregnant, well and truly his.
rafe let's go of his cock before he cums too soon. he never had a problem with bursting early before you, but something about your perfect little body, something about your sweet innocence that turns him on to such an extreme amount.
rafe keeps one hand holding your thighs parted and uses his other to rub his fingers along your folds. he feels your wetness start to grow, your bodies response to the touch, even as your mind is still in dream land.
rafe takes one slender finger, gently pushing inside your entrance, his cock pulsing when he feels how tightly you are squeezing his digit. he twists his hand so his thumb can rub over your clit. rafe expects you to move from this, at least readjust a little, but you lay perfectly still, eyelids not even fluttering.
“fuck, such a perfect pussy.” rafe says to himself, constantly impressed by how wondrous you are. he adds a second finger to your cunt, knowing he would usually work you with one for longer, but you are so relaxed from being in a deep slumber that he knows the stretch isn't painful.
rafe pulls his fingers out, tongue greedily licking your juices up before returning to your pussy. rafe questions laying against the mattress and shoving his face between your thighs and spending however long it takes you to wake up with his mouth licking your folds and sucking on your clit, but the need to fill you up, to breed you, is simply too strong.
rafe scissors his fingers inside of you, watching as your pussy opens up to accommodate him. he licks over his hand again to taste you, even going back to your cunt to swipe his fingertips through your folds, needing even more of your juices on his tongue.
he takes his cock in his hand, rubbing the head through your now slick folds, so warm from being squished in between your thighs while you napped. rafe presses against your entrance, moving slowly as to not wake you as he sinks his cock in.
you make your first noise since rafe came home, a soft little mewl as his cock bottoms out inside your cunt, but your eyes remain firmly closed.
rafe places both his hands on your hips, keeping you in the curled up position that he knows you love to sleep in as he begins to rock into you, not wanting to thrust too roughly pull you out of your nap.
rafe grunts when you squeeze your pussy around him subconsciously. he can feel that you are just getting even wetter, your body calling and craving him even as you are passed out.
he begins to move faster, but keeps himself from fully snapping his hips inside of you, hoping that allows you to remain at rest even while he gets himself closer to cumming.
rafe imagines you once you finally get pregnant, tummy swollen full and breasts heavy. he can't wait to make you a mom, to fulfill that dream of yours, and to raise the best kid. he knew the second he met you that you were the one for him, and he worked hard to get his life on track to meet your standards.
rafe moves a hand to your pussy, rubbing over your clit. he knows you won't be able to orgasm while sleeping, but he at least wants to make you feel good, hoping whatever he is doing is translating to what you're dreaming about.
rafe moves faster now that you've shown what you can sleep through, his cock moving at a blistering pace, leaving your cunt red instead of the delectable peach.
his cock swells inside of you, unable to hold back any longer. rafe can't help himself, looking down at you, his beautiful peaceful sleeping wife, about to get her cunt flooded without even knowing it.
rafe pushes his cock as deep in as if can go, pushing against your cervix as he releases all of the cum he possibly can, your cunt tightening around him, milking his cock clean as you squirm slightly for the first time, but manage to stay asleep.
rafe stays buried in you as he softens, not wanting to pull out yet and let any cum escape. once his breathing has returned to normal, rafe pulls out, his cock flopping down against his thigh.
he spreads your cheeks again, looking at your cunt as a dollop of his cum leaks out. he pushes it back in with his finger instantly, thrusting a few times to fuck it into you.
he flips the skirt back over your bum before getting off the bed and heading to the bathroom for a shower, smiling to himself as he feels like this was the time, this was the breeding session that would get you pregnant.
you wake up thirty minutes later, rafe still in the shower enjoying the hot water. you rub your eyes before stretching with a yawn, wondering why your cunt is so sticky.
2K notes
·
View notes
the aftermath of being turned into an ex jujutsu kaisen — gojo satoru.
gojo's a man of commitment. if rounding up a ‘band’ to serenade you into taking him back is what'll do the trick, then he'll organize it.
+ extra. this is meant to be unserious dont attack me for mischaracterization n shi 😞
“we're done.”
“we are not!”
in the end, he got kicked out. due to the shame he felt by being kicked out of a house he once lived in, satoru actually leaves. don't party too soon though, he's going to come back within five hours.
the plan he had in mind was simple: go to the department store, buy some roses, a poster, led lights, a table, some chocolates, and hire a band. for this the budget will be endless.
you thought you got rid of satoru but little did you know that he still has his share of keys. with that trick up his sleeve, he unlocks the gate, sneaking in everyone and the props.
satoru wasn't able to hire a band, but he was able to get a substitute. you see, todo, inumaki, and yuuji have hidden talents. they can all play instruments and one can sing! he always knew there was a reason why he's proud of his students.
quietly, the four men set the stage that's actually your front yard. in the center holds the white table with a black satin cloth delicately placed on it. the three bouquets of roses sit beautifully on the table. some petals were picked out and carefully spotted as well. on the table's center held the chocolate and wine — your favourite wine, to be exact. the finishing touch is the led lights. they're circling the ground, illuminating it with a soft yellow glow.
at the right and left sides of the table are inumaki and yuuji. inumaki's holding a wooden guitar while yuuji holds the hand drum. todo's position is in front of the table but a little off-center. he's holding the microphone, ready to pour his heart out on the song.
the star, satoru, is the one in the center. one hand hides behind his back. it's holding another rose bouquet with hundred-dollar bills wrapped with the roses. his free hand holds his phone. as soon as the clock strikes 7:00PM, he's going to call you. everything should play out perfectly.
anxiously watching his wristwatch switch from 6:59 to 7:00, he immediately calls you. one, two, three, six rings later you answered.
“you. i forgot to block you.”
“excuse me?” satoru scoffs, “whatever, i'm not calling for that.”
“chop chop then. i don't have all night.”
“can you come outside?”
“no. i will be calling the police.”
“OH C'MON,” he whines, getting desperate. “please? after this i'll leave you alone. promise.”
“...”
yuuji painfully watches. he feels incredibly sorry for his teacher. he doesn't deserve this!
“i don't think this is going good,” yuuji whispers to the boys, moving his head side-to-side.
todo raises his fist, gesturing to the boys to have some faith. “let's put our hopes high.”
they watch satoru closely. his hand that held the phone dramatically dropped to his side. slowly, he turns his head to face the boys behind him. his face breaks their hearts. he's pouting with eyes nearing tears — a pain only males like them can understand!
before satoru can say something, the front door clicks open. as it swings open aggressively, you made yourself tonight's main star unwillingly. you were not dressed for whatever this occasion is. your front yard has been ruined, your ex is there, three of his students you've met a few times, and while they're in suits, you're in a fancy robe with fluffy indoor slippers.
your eyebrows crease together, just when did they do all of this?! maybe it's time to install cameras.
“satoru, what the fuck did you do to my—”
“shh, tonight it's just you and him,” todo cuts you off, switching the mic on and beginning his performance. inumaki tunes the guitar and starts stringing random strings in hopes that they sound good. yuuji follows by tapping a simple “dun-da-da-dun-dun” beat on the drums.
your mouth's now opened. baffled by the sight, you stood there motionless.
“i have died every day waiting for you~”
as todo sings, satoru walks up to you, cheekily smiling at your shocked expression.
you back away from him, eyebrows still furrowed at whatever's going on.
“darling, don't be afraid~”
at this lyric, satoru takes the opportunity to shove his phone back into his pocket and grab your wrist. although you attempted to wriggle free, you are no match for his strength. gently, he pulls you into the yard.
both your eyes lock on each other. you search his eyes for emotions, he searches yours for any signs of longing. it's not there, he thinks. he feels a pinch in his heart, but it won't stop him. sending you a wink, he pulls you closer to the table.
“i have loved you for a thousand years (ooh)~”
“seriously, what's all this bullshit?!” you whisper-yelled at him, using your other hand to point at the table.
satoru simply shrugs.
“i'll love you for a thou-sand more (ooh, yeah)~”
todo ends his singing, clapping along with the other two to end the performance. it was the most touching thing he's ever done besides gifting yuuji and his idol a trio matching keychains set.
satoru coughs three times in attempts to hide his laugh. this has probably been the most unserious yet serious he's ever been, but his perfomance doesn't end there. he still has something else to whip out.
“baby—”
“that's not my name,” you cut him off.
“anyway. as i was saying,” he stops, revealing the rose bouquet with multiple hundred-dollar bills. “all of these are yours.”
your eyes bulge, but you quickly regain yourself.
“i'm not going to be won over with some roses and money.”
“there's wine and chocolates too,” yuuji says, immediately shutting up after you shot him a look.
inumaki stands awkwardly. he feels immense second-hand embarrassment. to counter such feelings, he starts playing the guitar again.
satoru cups the side of your face with his hand. his thumb caresses your cheek as he locks his eyes on yours again.
“i was serious about not breaking up, y'know,” he softly speaks, “i know i'm pushing it and all that stuff but i don't think i can leave you.”
it's once again your turn to be speechless. at this point, you're sure that there's no way all of this is happening in one night.
since you won't take hold of the bouquet, satoru places it in your hand. to solidify it even more, he lifts your other hand to place a kiss on it.
“what level of romance is this?” again, yuuji speaks. this time, it's satoru who gestures him to quiet down.
inumaki's still playing the out-of-tune guitar, enjoying the way the wind gently blows. it's truly a beautiful night. under the full moon's light, you and satoru glow together.
todo gears up for another round of singing. he immediately does a dragged-out “ooh~” adlib. this, however, wasn't going to last as long as his previous one did.
“NO — no more, please. you have a wonderful voice but i've heard enough. please.” you turned around to todo, begging him to mute the mic and possibly himself.
“and you,” you turn back to face satoru, “clean this up, get the boys home safely, and then come back.”
after that, you walked back to inside your house with the bouquet, making it satoru's turn to be left speechless. he still didn't win you over with some roses and money (wine and chocolates too) but his stupid commitment to keeping the relationship is what did.
848 notes
·
View notes
Price with an ADHD reader
So self indulgent!
John Price who feels self-conscious thinking you like Soap more because of your similar personalities.
Soap and you are a tumultuous pair, feeding off each other’s energy, you’re good friends, you hang out together just the two of you. He’s not jealous, especially not of Johnny, but he does feel a pang of self-consciousness at times, feels bad about not being able to keep up with you sometimes, about not being enough. He wouldn’t share those thoughts with you, more of an inside thing, he feels silly. Of course those doubts melt away as soon as you’re telling him about how your day went, about how much you missed him, about what reminded you of him. All the possible doubts he had leaving as he gets showered with kisses.
John Price who just stands and watches when you get the zoomies.
A sudden burst of energy has you walking up and down the house following John around, jumping from topic to topic to the latest song lyrics or idle dance move stuck in your head. He watches in amusement and tries to engage in your jumping conversation.
John Price who falls asleep during your late night yapping and still responds with nonsense answers while asleep.
“-And yeah apparently emus can’t walk backwards, don’t you think that's weird? How can an animal just not do that?” Your before-bed rant has been going on for longer than usual, inspired by a Wikipedia rabbit hole that still lingers in your phone’s history.
“Does Laswell know?” He mumbles.
“About emus?”
John Price who’s reluctant to lay on top of you if you ask.
“Please, please, please it’ll feel good!”
“Love, I’d crush you.” He had gotten you a weighted blanket for this exact reason. “Ain’t the blanket enough?”
“No! Because the blanket’s cold and you’re so much better better!” He’s reluctant, your puppy eyes are working overtime getting him to agree, which he does, of course.
John Price who just sighs and plays along when you ask him to wrestle you.
In your defense, it' was's a good way to get rid of extra energy or help while understimulated. He’s currently got you in the loosest headlock he can manage while you kick and thrash.
“Are you tired yet?” No answer comes, just more kicking that makes him release you.
As you try to attack him again, John effortlessly picks you up and throws you on the bed, which earns him a fit of giggles followed by an attempt to tackle him that ends you back in bed.
John Price who comforts you if you ever think you’re too much for him.
Big tears are coming down your eyes and wetting your face, you couldn’t pinpoint where all these feelings came from. You’ve got your face against his chest, voice shaking as you explain how you feel.
“I’m just a lot, you know? And I need you all the time and you like being alone and i want to give you space and I try, but I’m too much and-”
“Okay love, c’mon, none of that.” He cut you off after probably the thirtieth ‘and’. “We need what we need, and we work ‘round that all the time, don’t we? You’re not too much, you’re good just the way you are.”
John Price who lets you use him as a human fidget.
You’ve been waiting in this queue for no more than 5 minutes and it’s still getting you impatient, he notices, of course. The rapid looking-around, your foot tapping are all tell-tale signs of it. He extends his hand to you, which you take, and begin fidgeting with his digit and gloves, it keeps you well occupied, concentrated in the repetitive moments as time passes.
John Price who <3
860 notes
·
View notes
my heart did | jjk
jeon jungkook x reader (f)
genre: e2l | bully romance | smut | angst
rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)
summary: as soon as senior years comes to an end a lot of teens shed who we were and strive to be flourish into a more polished version of themselves. although, broken hearts aren’t so quick to heal what happens when thoughts reveal all we need to know?
warnings: lets begin.. themes and mentions of bullying; brief physical violence; brief mention of blood; bickering; denial of feelings; mention of less than ideal parents; cliche high school themes (in flashbacks); foul language; oral (m. receiving); penetrative and unprotected sex; clitoral stimulation; nipple play; thigh riding; vag fingering; overstimulation; sub!jjk themes - he is a good boy; he uh.. arrives on her face.. anyways; i hate this trope ugh but miscommunication; jjk has a big d!; not edited.
word count: 25,5 thousand words
posted: wed sept. 6, 2023 at 12:28PM
notable songs: like i want you - giveon | thinkin bout you - frank ocean | like or like like - miniature tiger | war of hearts - ruelle | sunday morning - maroon5 🎧
-
-
-
The sun is now setting.
Behind you as the last hours of the late summer evening approached the sun was beginning to finally pucker its lips against the horizon, as a result, the sky became dusted with hints of deep orange, yellow and purple. The clock finally struck nine o’clock and you couldn’t help but slump down on the palms of your hands, sitting behind the main desk on the same stool you had been since the beginning of your shift. Your pupils followed as the little hands on the clock hung on the opposite wall seemed to move slower and slower, completely freezing you in time.
Fucking Mondays.
You sighed. When you had initially signed up for the work study position at the library you thought things would be just a bit different.
For example, you thought being a staff member here would get you free access to course books and materials but that wasn’t the case. Right before you’d been hired, some idiot named Yoongi who worked behind the help desk at the computer lab was caught selling copies of the course materials to multiple students on campus.
Like—right before you were hired and now that privilege had been swiped right off the tip of your fingers the moment your member badge had been printed.
Secondly, time behind that rotating door at the main entrance just stopped. No, more like slammed down on the brakes abruptly the moment you crossed that threshold. There were no warnings or brake lights or even a bright sign to apprise in advance.
Another drawn out sigh escaped your lips.
There was no exaggeration in your boredom, however, besides the ‘promises’ of saving money on school materials vanishing entirely, you still needed the monetary earnings so you hid behind a fabricated smile and immediately accepted the job offer happily.
Well, as happily as you could be.
God, you were jaded. Five after nine. Only five minutes had gone by yet it felt like an eternity.
Your mind was on overdrive yet your body remained stationed in the same exact place—in the same exact position. Not a single tendon transposed and they constricted your muscles in place. You were there sort of glued to the metal surface of the stool but fuck did you wanted to move.
Needed to actually. You needed a sort of mobile stimulation but still you couldn’t seem to get your arms and legs to comply. Not until your focus circled around your extremities and your need to just fucking. . do something.
You crossed your legs to the left, then to the right, then you hung your legs on the wooden bar under the desk to give them a rest from just hanging on your side, then you sat with your legs spread open before realizing you wore a skirt and you quickly pressed your thighs together tightly. Shift after shift you grew more angsty, more impatient, more exasperated with the sluggish speed the hours of the night adopted.
Slowly, you reached into your bag and unwrapped a piece of gum before sticking it in your mouth. You chewed slowly. Seven after nine, only two minutes have gone by since you last looked at the time.
Okay, maybe if you number your chews to the rhythm of each second then time will somehow speed by. Right? You began your countdown backwards from sixty.
You chewed down on the watermelon flavored stick of gum. Sixty.
Again, fifty-nine.
And, again, fifty-eight.
Once more, fifty-seven.
In just a matter of minutes the sky behind you turned pitch black and finally the stars came out to play, they pranced around dancing in the sparkling delight and you couldn’t really help but envy their freedom as they lived without confinement.
“Tell me something. .” You quickly registered that irritating tone, that very familiar and insipid, absolutely annoying and vexing tone. The same one which sent a bubbling shot of acid to course into your bloodstream every time you were faced with the disdain of hearing it, “should I reprint you a copy of the employee manual? Last time I checked skirts above the knee and gum chewing are strictly prohibited in the work place.”
You leaned your head to the side, narrowing your eyes in his direction as he stood by the doorframe, “you’re not the supervisor, let alone the manager,” you murmured through gritted teeth, “fuck off.”
He shook his head slowly while clicking his tongue. He was mocking you, the little shit was mocking you, “Not a manager. Just someone who likes to enforce the rules especially comes to you.”
“Rule enforcer?” you scoffed, chewing louder and louder as you chomped down, purposefully smacking your gum in the process, “sounds a lot like you being a little bitch. I guess it’s all just the same to me.”
“Bitch?” he guffawed.
“Yes, that’s what I said,” you challenged.
“Mini skirt, gum chewing, and foul language. You’re really making this so easy for me,” he mocked.
The extent of your interactions were always, always, reduced to this. Just the endless streaks of taunting, the continuity of poking at each other buttons beyond forgiveness, and to top it all of the boiling irritation cooking up in the pit of your stomach.
As far back as you could remember there wasn’t an ounce of amiability in the mixture of your interactions together.
You and him met the summer before the ninth grade. From there on you knew him once classes began. Well ‘knew’ was a very loose term in this situation. The two of you were just teens, fifteen years old to be exact, in the same school, in the same home room, yet from different cliques.
His brown eyes drank you in like he was consuming every inch of your soul—it was invasive, intimidating, and exactly what you deserved. Deep down you were one hundred-percent sure of the fact.
“What?” you barked.
“Just remembering the good old time,” he smirked, “the ones where words remain your preferred and deadliest weapon.”
What transpired from that night was nothing compared to his cold gaze and punctured words.
Faint lights of that night sparkled into memory, years have passed but you remember every detail as if it was just yesterday.
The school bathroom was your least favorite place in the building, it was usually crowded with destined criminals, the stench was horrid and it was the obvious root of every ridiculous rumor to ever be birthed within the walls of Oakwood High School.
You leaned against the white ceramic sink, your back faced the stained plastic mirror as you faced him sitting on top of the toilet tank. He was the personification of trouble, the very synonym of everything you needed to stay away from.
The two of you came from two different worlds.
He was draped and wrapped up in a black hoodie, complemented by dark distressed jeans while his rugged and muddy boots stained found camp on the toilet seat, staining it beyond repair.
“What exactly is it that you need from me?” he asked, his tone wasn’t as stern or deep as you usually heard around the halls. There was a slight stutter; a falter.
“It’s more than one thing,” you exhaled, your eyes flickered between him and the stall just to the right of him, “. .that I need from you.”
He hummed, “go on.”
The sun trickled in through the foggy windows and it embellished very detail, every feature that you had never once before noticed on the boy before you. His eyes were giant orbs almost doe like, his lips were a deep taint of roseate the same one which dusted the apples of his cheeks. There was a certain delicate look behind the dark aura he cemented within himself.
You took paced steps in his direction feeling just a bit dizzy the closer you became.
Perhaps, it was that overbearing piss smell.
Or, perhaps, you just didn’t want to go through with this. You wanted to call this off but there was this fervent exhilaration burning just below your skin—you wanted to continue speaking to him, you wanted to envelop yourself in the softness of his lips.
But this wasn’t right but you couldn’t help the guidance of your feet, until finally you stood right before him.
Up close his eyes were prettier, shinier yet darker and you easily found yourself swimming in them engulfed in vastness simulating the bottomless sea.
He was everything you wanted and everything you needed to stay away from.
Two different people. Two different worlds.
“Are you going to tell me what you need?”
“I think,” your palm landed on his knee for support as you climbed onto the toilet seat taking a seat on his lap, “it’s much better if I show you.”
By now, and by the radicle of his reputation you expected for him to push you right off his life, for him to gargle the disgust in the back of his throat and regurgitate it right back on you. But he didn’t instead his gaze intently followed you every move, he probably already noticed your quivering figure hiding behind your confident facade.
There was no shaking off this nervousness, even but in your mind you reminded yourself that you were you and he was simply him.
“Show me what exactly?” he swallowed, his Adam's bobbed distinctively, “you know this is the first time you’ve ever uttered a single word in my direction.”
“I highly doubt that,” you hid your nervousness behind the security of your confident tone.
“It’s true,” he continued, “I bet you have never even noticed that my locker is directly across from yours.”
“Wait. .” You hooked your bait, hanging it low over his head attempting to reel him in once and for all, “do you spend your time in the halls looking at me?”
“I never said—“
Your palms found their way up to towards the back of his neck and you inched closer to his face vividly detailing the golden tone of his glowing skin.
You never noticed before, he was always an arm’s length away, which was probably your fault to begin with, but he was truly beautiful.
“You did kind of imply it.”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
“Does to me.”
His eyes remained on your lips as you tucked your lower lip under your upper teeth. There was an unreadable expression ignited behind his pupils, something you’ve never seen before, not behind the frigid gaze of your best friends and it certainly wasn’t present in the way your boyfriend looked at you either.
It held the comfort of tenderness and it wrapped you right into his warm embrace.
“You know, you keep averting my question.”
“Remind me, once again,” you smiled softly, “what is it that you wanted to know.”
“What do you want to show me?” you pursed out your lower lip before licking them agonizingly slowly to almost emphasize their plumpness. While coating them in a thin layer of the sheen shininess from your saliva. That put him in a trance, his eyes were locked on you intently. It’s working.
“Kiss me,” you whispered, your lips hovered right over his, the waft of your paced breath fanned one another. His mouth was enveloped with the cool aromatic scent of mint. You liked that a lot—it drew you in.
He froze against the white tiled wall behind him, his eyes were closed and he waited in anticipation of your lips finally meeting his. Instead, you took the liberty of snapping a mental picture. One you knew you would hang in the forefront of your mind for a very very long time, because after today, after the tones of both of your pink lips finally meshed together everything would go to shit.
And it would all be your fault.
“For someone who’s begging to kiss me you sure are taking your sweet time.”
The pads of your fingers brushed against his velvet lips as they spread wide depicting his smile, in turn you’d notice the way that very smile trickled to everyone of his features. From the dimples impaling his honey cheeks to his scrunched up nose and brows scrunched up together.
“I’m not begging,” you objected, laying against his chest—he was broad you could tell even under the dark clothes and he felt firm. All you wanted was to be cocooned in his heated touch.
Even in the scorching summer his warmth is.. a solace. You didn’t mind being consumed by it burning in the flames ignited by his touch.
“I asked. Just curious to know if you would even want to kiss me,” say no, run away, run away from me, you yelled at him in your head.
“Curious?”
You hummed, “So.. Do you wanna?”
“Kiss you?”
You hummed again, “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. It’s just one kiss.”
“Just a kiss?” He asks a lot of questions.
“Okay,” he breathed.
There were many things you forbid yourself from submitting to at the expense of your insatious desires. This included consuming sweets past eight o’clock, drinking any type of soda, and even suppressing anything you’ve ever felt for anyone in return for the validation of others. Deep behind the rhythmic beating of your heart you knew this should’ve also included kissing him. You knew you should’ve backed off, said no, avoided him as if he was something you ran away from.
But you couldn’t help but be guided here by the pure delight of getting to have this for once. You wanted to be selfish and drown in those very desires you didn’t dare act on prior to today. Not under self-induced circumstances instead something you know could hurt him right after you pulled away from his lips.
You were a wretched person but all you think about, all you cared about was the way he inched closer towards you, rapidly closing the gap between the two of you. The only sounds bouncing off the walls were your needy pants and the thump thump which composed a song out of the beats of both of your racing hearts.
His head tilted slightly as he leaned in, his eyes explored every inch of your face taking in every depiction of your features. And no matter how many times you could attempt to hide it—he would know. He could clearly see the birth of the flames rampant behind the tones of your eyes.
He nudged his nose against yours, and your mouths fell together, soft and open. You closed your eyes instantly and they felt heavy, almost as if your eyelids were glued together. Though, you urged to open them, to live in every single second your lips remained connected with his, because you knew this wasn’t likely to happen again. Not after today. Not ever.
You couldn’t help but want to bear witness to the perfectness of your lips dancing against one another.
His mouth was silken, you found yourself melting into his body, into his lips, into his touch. Nobody had ever kissed you with the unspoken one passion he was.
No one. Certainly not your boyfriend.
You allowed yourself to become drunk under his trance and he fed the butterflies flapping their wings against the lining of your stomach rapidly.
You wanted to camp in the fondness of that moment forever, and ever. and ever. . .
Vacating the stool you stood by the large windows facing the parking lot behind the library. However, your attention was clutched by the sparkling stars, it was a form of a distraction. You wanted to stop thinking of him, his gaze seizing your figure tracing the outline of your legs, the curves and dips between your hips and waist and finally the sneaky peaks of your collar bones under your crop top.
His eyes were hard to read making it impossible to decipher whether he undressed you or condemned your being.
Though, you knew you deserved the latter.
“Words were never my weapon,” you whispered the fib hoping that you would believe it if you heard it outloud. It didn’t work.
He chuckled, “right. . your lips were the blades that pierced my heart and your words were the bullets that finished me off.”
“Jungkook. .” you trailed off.
“What?” he spat, “can’t handle the truth?”
Fuck, that hurt but you deserved it.
“Jungkook, just shut up.”
But his back was already turned towards you and his eyes no longer scanned you like you were the phrases typed on the pages of his favorite book.
“I’m so. .” you began but you just couldn’t get it out.
“There it is again,” Jungkook shook his head, clicking his tongue.
“That’s not what I meant,” you sighed, collecting your thoughts why did you always manage to say the wrong fucking thing, “I’m just trying to apologize to you for. . everything.”
“Right. . now?” he wore a puzzled expression, his eyes squinted with skepticism. Back in highschool Jungkok was quiet, shy and mysterious. He could’ve easily flown under the radar and lived his life in the seclusion of being a wallflower. But then you happened. You in that bathroom, on his lap with his lips on yours.
Even now, years later, you could still feel their phantom softness on yours.
You played with the loose thread on the hem of your top averting the scrutiny of the judgment in his eyes, “better late than never.”
“You put me through hell and I’m supposed to act as if all is forgiven. Today, because you can no longer live with that guilt?” there was a smirk plastered on his face while traces of venom laced his words.
“That’s not the reason why…”
“Then, why… Why?”
Words failed to roll off the tip of your tongue, and there was a cloud of shame hanging over your head but Jungkook was resentful and cold with his words and you knew that at this point your apology would do nothing to fix what was already broken. Nevertheless, you stood there like a child being scolded because the least you could do was be the receiver of his resentment.
“Are you looking for a shot at self redemption? To feel better about yourself? Or maybe the guilt really is eating you bit by bit. Whatever it may be I don’t forgive you and I never will. You wanna know why? Because unlike others I’m not convinced that people like you can change,” he continued, there was a rampant anger burning in his eyes now, “you look back on our time in high school and feel this sense of. . relief that you were who you were. There is not an ounce of your being that would go back and change things and if we were to turn back time you would still choose to be the viper who could go around injecting your venom into others at free will. I know you just want to leap over that stepping stone and prove to yourself that you have grown-up but you can’t fool me and you will not make an example out of me.”
“That’s not. .” you drifted off, tears swelled behind your eyelids but you blinked them away, “That’s not why I wanted to do Jungkook. .”
“No?” he asked.
“No,” you muttered through gritted teeth, mad at your past self for being a piece of shit, mad at him for not allowing you to speak, mad at life. Everything.
“You want me to forgive you?”
You remained quiet.
“Then, beg.”
“You know what?” You quickly wiped the tear that trickled down your heated cheek, “I actually did mean to apologize but I’m not sure that you actually deserve it anymore.”
They say what comes around goes around and you were certain this was the circle of justice you would forever be looped in the extent of your interactions with Jungkook because, this is pretty much how they always played out. He would never forgive you and you would never be able to form the right words to ease the pain of what you have caused. There wasn’t anything that you could do or say.
Things would always remain this way.
He turned away from you once again, “if I don’t deserve your apology that only proves you don’t deserve my forgiveness.”
You looked at the clock on the opposite wall, it was now finally thirty minutes past nine and you were due to go home. To be embraced by the comfort of your sheets, to bask in their warmth, something less chilling than his frigid words.
Grabbing your bag you slipped past him hoping that you would now stoop to becoming nothing but an insipid wallflower.
Entirely, invisible. That’s all you wanted to be.
Fucking invisible.
Your cloak of invisibility was short lived because as soon as you crossed the threshold to your dorm you were met with a crowded living room. Amongst the faceless features of the random strangers spread out in the tiny space you spotted a similar face belonging to the biggest pain in your ass and roommate adjacent, Hobi.
You trudge through the ocean of bodies, resisting the sway of the waves leading to bump to those in your way, simply wanting to get as far away from whatever this was as soon as possible. When Hobi’s eyes finally met yours you signaled him towards using your pointer finger—quickly, his smile dropped, beads of sweat adorned his temples and his head hung low.
A party on a Monday was… Definitely, Hobiesque.
With paced strides he stumbled towards you following you down the small corridor and into your room. Hobi’s eyes hung low, the buttons on his shirt hung open all the way down to the pit of his stomach, his cheeks were red and puffy, his hair the right amount of disheveled, and he had a tight grasp on a nearly empty red solo cup (it definitely didn’t look like it was his first or last drink). The lights were dimmed but even under the shitty lighting there was a bright glimmer outlining his figure.
“Now, before we begin this intervention,” his words were a bit slurred, “I had a really shitty day.”
“Yeah, that makes two of us,” you hung your bag on the hook behind the door and threw your keys on the desk.
He slumped down on your bed and stared up at the ceiling with a blank expression—you weren’t sure if the shift in his usual energetic charisma was due to the alcohol but you didn’t like it. You were so used to seeing his heart shaped lips spread into wide curves showcasing the amiability of his colorful personality.
“Okay, which one of us should go first?” he asked.
“Don’t you have a party to get back to?” you sat by the pillows on the bed, your back leaning against the headboard, your legs pressed up against your chest as you laid your head on your knees.
“I’ll get back in a minute,” he replied nonchalantly, “just tell me about your day.”
Hobi laid his head closer to your legs, quickly you found your fingers combing through the dark strands with a thin layer of sweat. There was a cool draft slipping in the room through the window left slightly ajar. The bittersweet flashes of your time in that library behind the main desk played back in your mind.
“I saw… spoke to Jungkook tonight,” your voice was soft, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear. You and Hobi have been friends since your senior year in school and while he wasn’t there for the horrid days of your freshman year tyranny you confessed to everything you had done during those dark days—everything that happened with Jungkook.
“Spoke?”
You nodded.
“You two have the same work study you’ve spoken to each other before right?”
“Yeah, but our conversations are always reduced to nonsensical banter. He pushes my buttons and I push his, sometimes we even land a few jabs at each other when the other isn’t looking but today,” you felt at ease sitting there in Hobi’s company, the only noise surrounding the two of you came from the booming of the loudspeaker stationed in the living room, “…it was personal.”
“How personal?” he continued peering up at you with idle eyes.
“I tried to apologize for, well you know.. everything,” you sighed, “and things didn’t really go as planned. Stupid of me I know.”
“Definitely, not stupid. You tried to make things right. There’s no harm in that,” his thumb rubbed your hand softly as it wrapped around your shins.
“There was definitely a lot of harm done.”
“You’re right,” he mumbled, “what you did is not justified, but all that matters is that you are trying to make things right and we can only hope he is willing to forgive.”
Jungkook’s vicious words played on a continuous loop in your head. He was not willing to forgive. He never would be and sincerely you couldn’t blame him for him.
This guilt.
It will eat you alive and as a result you will experience a slow and excruciating death. A well deserved demise and one that became written in the stars for you the moment you kissed him in that fucking bathroom.
Still, a timid smile slowly creeped on your lips. Hobi’s hopefulness is your safety net, the only thing you could ever need to keep pushing forward.
“Enough about me and my self-inflicted issues,” you cleared your throat, “what’s got you so down today, sunshine?”
“We broke up.”
You laid beside him on your bed, reaching down taking his hands into yours hoping he’d feel the same deal of comfort you do by him.
“What happened?” you offered.
“I was in my dance practice and he—“ he paused, “he just fucking texted me. Said he couldn’t do it anymore.”
“Did something happen before all of this?”
“We’ve been on a bumpy road lately,” he hesitated before continuing—you guessed it was because he was trying to structure his thoughts, “two dancers dating bring a conflict of interest into a relationship.”
“Please tell me you guys aren’t just fighting over your choreography.”
He remained silent before continuing.
“You two are going to send me into cardiac arrest,” you shook your head, “I need details, Jung.”
“Don’t call me, Jung,” Hobi poked out his lower lip, frowning, “makes me feel like I’m in trouble.”
“I can’t be mad at you when you’re so adorably tipsy,” you pinched his rosey cheeks.
“Stoooop,” he swatted your hand away from his face while stretching out the letter ‘O,’ “I’m being serious though. I think it’s really over between Jimin and I, forreal this time.”
“You’ve said that every other time the two of you have broken up over dance.”
“Right. .” he yawned, cozying up under your sheets while his eyes began to close.
“Oh, no,” you smacked him upside the head with one of your cushions, “get up and go host your little party.”
He brushed it off turning before turning away from you, his soft snores now a remix to the music playing just outside of your door, “who the fuck throws a party on a Monday. . Hoseok, get up!”
“I know, you’re so irresponsible for letting me throw a party on a weekday.”
“Bitch.”
As it turns out, kicking people an hour after a party had started wasn’t as easy as it looked. Leaning against the front door you finally came face to face with the mess left behind. The music still played, though, much lower now and there was an array of empty beer cans, red solo cups and other waste decorating your living room.
It was as if you were standing in front of the mirror looking back at yourself, you were nothing but a mess of a human being. It was uncanny.
Although, this mess you could clean, and you would, you weren’t sure if Jungkook would ever allow you to pick up all of those broken pieces that you had shattered all of those years ago.
For what it’s worth you really wanted to try. You wanted to make things right.
It is now Tuesday and the weather is horrid.
The last time you checked, the forecast called for scattered showers and mostly cloudy days. But, now it’s one in the afternoon and as you settle down on the bench by your bay window overlooking the narrow street, the sky was overtaken by the torrent clouds weeping viciously accompanied by the occasional strikes of loud thunder.
Usually, when the weather looked as shitty as you felt you opted for staying home and becoming enveloped in the comfort and warmth of your sheets, today would have been no different but of course luck is never present in the deck of cards paving your life, also having an irresponsible roommate usually doesn’t help in any way.
“Please, don’t forget my ginger ale,” he coughed dramatically, running his hand through his disheveled hair, “I can’t believe I feel like literal shit.”
“You can’t believe it?” You sneered, “you drank half of your alcohol supply before I even made it home and the party had only been on for like thirty minutes.”
“Fuck, I did that. Didn’t I?”
“You did,” you playfully yanked your covers off his body, “you drunk fuck.”
“That was my nickname in highschool,” he smiled.
“It was,” you zipped up your rain jacket and grabbed the umbrella sitting on your desk, “now go take a hot bath and don’t throw any more parties while I’m gone.”
You heard his infectious giggles as you closed the front door behind you. The two of you lived on the third floor so the walk down the stairs to the lobby wasn’t too unbearable. Through the clear doors of the main entrance in the rain you saw how the downpour fogged up the path ahead. Namseok’s Kitchen is only a five minute walk, you can do this.
Walking out you opened your umbrella and stood still for just one minute paralized by the pitter patter of the droplets meeting your umbrella.
It was the beat to a dreadful song you knew too well.
You pushed past the blue metal doors of the gymnasium. Your nostrils are no longer consumed by the smell of sweat and dirty laundry and the muffled conjunction of laughter, voices, bouncing balls, and whistles died out the minute the door closed behind you.
Gym class was a drag and there was truly nothing worse than an hour long class period with sweaty kids in such a tiny space. Usually, you opted for walking on the track for the duration of class but that option became futile the moment it began to pour an hour ago.
In fact it was still raining, but you stood under the navy awning covering you from becoming soaked. Your eyes are closed and you lean against the red brick wall inhaling the scent of petrichor, the resulting smell of the parched earth just as the pouring rain continues to beat anything standing right below it. The sweet aromas seeped into the air sweeping past your nose with the soft breeze that blew by.
It was as if the earth had exhaled, emanating its distinct fragrance from millions of pinpoints all at once. Inside that smell, the seconds slowed and each moment seemed to dilute. It filled you with relief.
Then, suddenly the remnants of your heaven became blurred and the walls holding up the roofs began to tumble down and with it a whiff of nicotine became tangled in your nose.
Your eyes shot open and there he was, Jungkook. The boy you’d kissed a week ago in the boy’s bathroom.
“Cigarettes are bad for you, you know..” You felt a knot in the pit of your stomach as soon as he turned. You heard what happened to him but you hadn’t gotten around to seeing him yet, you’d been avoiding him.
“Yeah, I keep thinking I’ll quit and I can’t seem to make it past a couple of hours,” he was honest and he smiled, two characteristics you thought had died the moment your boyfriend’s fist met his face. He still had a soft purple bruise under his eye to prove it.
“You need something else to get your mind off of it.”
He threw the butt of the cigarette on the ground and stepped on it to put it out and leaned right beside you on the wall. Up close you saw a deep gash on the apples of his cheek, it was still red but stitched up.
“I know.”
“Are you really littering right now?” You eyed the discarded smoke under the tip of his chunky combat boots.
“Right, sorry miss president of ‘i love earth’ or whatever,” he bent over, picking it up and placing it in the pocket of black jeans, similar to the ones he wore that day minus the rips around the thighs.
“It’s actually called, ‘advocates for planet earth’ for your information.”
“I love earth sounds better,” he shrugged, “should consider the name change.”
“I’ll bring it up in our next meeting.”
“I’m surprised,” Jungkook began, his eyebrows furrowed together and you could tell he was in a mental battle to continue, “that he lets you join cute little nerdy clubs.”
Twenty minutes before you entered the boys bathroom last Thursday, you and your friends sat in the library during study hall, your homework long forgotten and with continued complaints of loud talking all of you had settled for a game of quiet dare or die.
The set-up was easy.
There were two piles out in-front of you, one die, one dare. The object of the game created by your friends was to choose a dare and record yourself completing it before the end of the school day or else you’d have to do something even more embarrassing from the die pile.
Your dare was to graffiti the side of the school. A bit excessive, compared to the other ones which only called for kissing each other, going against school dress code for the rest of the day or skipping the last period.
Ditching the crumpled up paper you chose a die deciding that whatever it was at least it probably wouldn’t come at the expense of being expelled.
‘Kiss Jeon Jungkook (loser)’ it read.
You could’ve said no but you didn’t. Instead you fed into the taunts of the very boy you’d find your eyes lingering after. The same boy who occupied your thoughts day and night, the same one who kissed you like no one else has and whose touch (though, brief)—permanently marked a trail of goosebumps only he could procure.
“He doesn’t control me, Jungkook.”
“He doesn’t,” Jungkook nodded, registering every gravity of your words which felt heavy on his tongue. If your boyfriend didn’t control you then that meant you had also dealt a hand at the countinuously fucked-up encounters between him and your boyfriend. But this also finally cemented the idea that you had kissed him willingly; you saw it in the way his eyes sparkled even when the sun had been hibernating for the duration of the day.
He seemed to have finally realized that both of those could be true. That love and pain could dance together hand in hand when it came to the two of you.
Your eyes scanned his chocolate ones, slowly reaching up using the pads of your finger to caress his cheek. They were full and warm and you were careful not to inch too close to the purple and green-ish spot under his eye.
“Will you believe me if I tell you something?”
“Tell me.”
“I really did enjoy that day.” You clarified, “our kiss despite what I said afterwards.”
He chuckled, “hopefully saying me too doesn’t get me another black eye.”
The tightness in your chest squeezed tighter and immediately you felt like you couldn’t breathe. When Jungkook was around you felt as if your heart and mind collided against each other and you were left in a daze, castaway in your own body and mind. Like, right now, your brain urged you to walk away and get as far away as possible from him but your heart called out to him and down that same path it set out a route leading to his silken lips.
Your heart beat to a deep crescendo nearly synching to the sound of the beating rain against the awning just overhead.
“Shouldn’t you be getting back to class?”
Snapping out of your daydream you replied, “uh, yeah, I should get back.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you around.”
Jungkook smiled, “I’ll see you around.”
The hefty winds blew your umbrella yet you remained in the same exact spot just a couple of feet away from the entrance to the dorm building. You were drenched from head to toe causing your gray sweats and hoodie to stick to you all while they weighed you down. Although you were inclined to move away from the droplets adorning your figure, your legs just would not submit to the command.
The smell, the dark skies, and the feeling of the rain on your skin all ignited a sense of familiarity, contentment yet melancholiness.
There were too many feelings jumbled into one.
“If you stand here, like this, you’ll end up sick.”
You hadn’t realized your eyes were closed until the moment his voice overshadowed the roaring screams of the pouring rain. Jungkook’s outfit mimicked yours slightly but even you could admit he looked much better than you. He wore gray sweats and a gray hoodie draped off his shoulder over a white wife beater. His tattoos peeked through outlining the beginning of the sleeve following the length of his extremity down to his fingers.
He’s breathtaking, he’s always been.
“I wasn’t aware that my well-being was any of your concern.”
Jungkook combed his slender digits through his jet black hair inching closer to you until his umbrella covered the both of you, “it doesn’t,” he said, “ I just figured you were either drunk or too much of an idiot to be out in this storm.”
“Well, in that case that makes us two idiots standing out in this weather.”
“I was not out. I’m not crazy,” he cleared his throat, “I just so happen to see you through my dorm window.”
He came down for you, “yet here you are now.”
“Need I remind you, if I wasn’t, you’d still be out here getting soaked.”
“Soaked,” you snickered.
“Grow up,” his voice was laced with annoyance but the rose tint on his cheeks told you everything you needed to know.
“Where did my umbrella even go?”
He pointed to your feet where your Converse swam in a puddle and there was your unbrella was looking as fucked up as ever. Immediately, you made a mental note to never buy umbrellas at the dollar store ever again. You supposed that’s the only thing you were good at; making one wrong decision after the other.
You huffed, “ah, I’m okay. It’s okay, I got it from here.”
“Were you going somewhere?”
“You don’t have to help me, Jungkook,” you didn’t dare look at him because Jungkook was good at one thing, it was peeling back at your layers with his piercing eyes. He made you feel vulnerable—bare. And you always feared the psychedelic enchantment wiring in your brain whenever he looked in your direction.
Back then that was your excuse for not helping him, for not being a better human being. It was a shitty excuse, you know that now but you always feared your willingness to succumb to your hearts’ cries.
You feared falling into him—falling for him.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” He laughed, “just lead the way. I have nothing better to do anyway.”
“I was just going down the street to Namseok’s Kitchen to get Hobi some chicken noodle soup. He isn’t feeling too well this morning.”
“That’s only a five minute walk,” he nodded toward the path ahead, “Let’s go.”
Five minutes felt like an eternity as the two of you walked towards your destination in utter silence. The street was pretty empty—only Jungkook, yourself and the rain remained. . And your thoughts, of course. They ran at record speed as you tried to relive every single moment from your past, you know; divulging in all the good times and wanting to fix every fucked up thing you’ve ever done.
If only you could turn back time you’d make things right.
In an attempt to skip another puddle, to prevent your socks from becoming sodden you accidentally moved closer to Jungkook and your elbow brushed against his. The feeling wasn’t foreign to you and it transported you to those nights, all of those moment when your bodies were so close you could smell the soap he’d used that morning, cardamom and vanilla, the scent still lingered around in your nose and you wondered if you were just hallucinating or if he actually still used the same soap.
“While you order I’ll get us something hot,” he walked you to the glass door of the small diner, then turned towards the coffee shop across the street.
“Jungkook!” You called out and he looked back in your direction, “Hold on,” you dug in your pocket reaching for a ten dollar bill, “Here.”
“Just worry about the soup and get one for yourself. Your body will thank you tomorrow morning,” he shouted back.
He disappeared into the shop as cars sped by in his shadow. You almost didn’t believe he was just right there. With you. Was he?
The bell on top of the door chimed as you walked into the restaurant, the squishing sound of your drenched shoes against the white tile bounced off of the baby blue walls. As you walked closer to the counter you wrapped yourself in a tight embrace to provide yourself with some warmth against the blasted AC. The place has always been light on decoration and made to feel more homey than anything else. There was a faux wall with photographs of customers hanging from loose thread, next to that there was a small circular table where the polaroid and its film was stationed. The remaining walls held all sorts of artworks in different shades of azure from Seokjin’s boyfriend, and Hobi’s brother, Namjoon. Towards the front was your favorite place, a bench stationed in-front of the floor to ceiling glass window.
Namjoon approached the register, “oh no, what the fuck did he do now?”
“He threw a party and woke up sick as fuck. I was just coming to get him some soup. He’s said he would puke anything else.”
“And that little shit made you walk?” Seokjin walked up behind Joon taking a seat on the stool beside him. “Look at you…” he motioned towards you and you took a look at yourself in the circular mirror hung behind the two guys, a fucking mess, “you’re all wet. Did he make you come here alone?”
Before you even had the chance to answer Jinnie continued, “I’m going to kill him. You hear me?” He turned towards his boyfriend, “I am going to kill your brother.”
Joon mumbled, “I might just join you.”
“Before your two go on a killing spree…” you leaned against the wooden surface of the counter, “I kind of offered because I felt bad for his dumbass.”
“He still let you come all the way down here in this weather and that is enough to plan a crime,” Seokjin hissed, “Joonie will you get her a towel from the back?”
Joon disappeared behind the beaded curtain.
“Okay, so one soup for the idiot and one for you?”
You nodded, “yes, chicken noodle soup please. Can you make that three though?”
“Who’s the third one for?” He raised an eyebrow staring you down like you had an intimate secret you were keeping from him. Well, technically, you were keeping some things to yourself but you weren’t lying just withholding the truth. It wasn’t the same thing.
“It’s for the person who accompanied me here today.”
“And who is that?” Joon asked, they were both overprotective, like older brothers, “you only have one friend and unfortunately I am related to him.”
“Not a friend. . Just someone I know.”
They hummed in unison exchanging suspecting looks between one another. Then, the bell on top of the door chimed once again, the same way it did when you walked in. You didn’t need to look to know who it was, his scent gave him away immediately.
“Hi, welcome to Namseok’s kitchen,” Jin greeted him.
“Hey,” he walked deeper into the restaurant until he finally stood right next to you as you continued drying off, “here. I got us lemongrass tea. I didn’t know what you like so I figured I get you the same as me.”
Grabbing the to-go cup from his hand, you reply, “yeah, I like lemongrass tea.”
You took a sip, basking in the heat of the piping hot liquid as it traveled down your throat and into your tummy. A tired whimper escaped your lips, as you became entirely immersed in the flavors of the lemony taste exploding on your tongue. There was silence around you but you could feel three sets of eyes on you and instantaneously your eyes shot open.
“I almost forgot Jin, Joon, this is Jungkook. Jungkook, this is Jin and Joon, Hobi’s brother and brother in law.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“You, too,” Jinnie smiled in his direction and Joon followed suit, “Jungkook..” He repeated, “why does your name sound so familiar?”
“I went to highschool with Hobi and..” he pointed at you, avoiding even the utterances of your name. There was no disgust lingering in his face but then again his expression was unreadable and you were sure he was masking his true feelings at the expense of the two men in front of you.
“I knew it,” he clasped his hands together but as soon as you saw the thoughts wiring in his head and connecting together you shook your head to prevent him from continuing. Thankfully, he understood immediately, “yeah, I thought I had seen you before.”
Jungkook also connected the dots because Jin hadn’t been in high school at the same time he was. Jinnie was three years older than you guys were and by the time he and Hobi had moved into town Seokjin had already graduated. But he was now aware that you had mentioned him in passing—now he knew that you had to have mentioned something about that time.
“I’m going to go check on those soups,” Jin announced walking back towards the kitchen, “Joon, come on join me.”
You walked past Jungkook with the brown cup held tightly in your grasp before taking a seat on the bench by the front window. The storm still ran rampant outside and the streets remained barren. Jungkook sat two tables down, near the wall, far away from you.
“Do I owe you anything for the tea?” You mumbled holding up the cup in his direction.
“I told you to not worry about it..”
“I didn’t know Seokjin would bring that up,” you didn’t look at him, eyes lulled by your dusty white converse, “I didn’t know he would remember you.”
“Just forget about it,” he shook his head, “you don’t need to explain.”
“No, I feel like I do.”
“You don’t.”
“Jungkook, please let me,” your eyes watered and your voice faltered.
He sighed, taking a small sip of the tea before continuing, “please don’t explain. I don’t need an explanation. I have buried it all, it still lives in my head but it’s buried and I don’t need to resurrect the tsunami of emotions that comes along with that..” he pointed at his temples, “it’s still here but please do not awaken them. I don’t want to brush the brush off of those memories.”
You two were the only people in the shop but you knew Joon and Jin were behind one of the walls eavesdropping. It was silent and the only noise in the small space was the whirring of the AC.
“Are our good memories also buried somewhere?” You knew better than to ask but you needed to know.
“I put those to rest first,” he admitted and your heart sank, “those memories, although good, were an incitement to everything else that lingered right behind. I had to get rid of those memories to get rid of everything else.”
“Okay,” tears were beginning to swell up in the corners of your eyes and you tried your best to blink them away, “yeah, that’s okay. I understand why you had to do that.”
“I’m sorr—” Jungkook began.
“Don’t, please, you’re not the one who should be apologizing to me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you do that.”
The bell at the front desk chimed, ripping your attention away from Jungkook. Seokjin stood behind the counter holding two paper bags, “order’s up.”
Walking up you thanked him and grabbed the bags, “thanks. I’ll have Hobi venmo you for this.”
“Don’t even worry about it,” he smiled softly, “free lunches till you guys graduate remember. That goes for you too now, Jungkook.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” he handed him the smaller bag, “I mean it. I better see you around here more often.”
“Thank you,” he smiled brightly, the kind of smile you hadn’t seen him wear in years. It was radiant and lit up his face with warmth. The indents on his cheek were deep and they framed his rose lips like they were a work of art. Not even the silver hoop piercing his bottom lip shone as brightly as he did when he smiled. You almost forgot how good it looked on him and you couldn’t help but stand there and admire him taking mental pictures to keep forever.
He deserves someone better. Someone who’s going to make him smile like that until the end of time. Someone who wasn’t you.
“And thank you for coming along with her since Hobi couldn’t.”
“It’s no problem.”
“I would offer you guys a ride back home but Jin and I walked to work today. Guess we didn’t really think things through either.”
“It’s okay, Joon,” you zipped up your rain coat and pulled the hood over your head, “it’s only a five minute walk back.”
After thanking Jin and Joon, the two of you exited the store and cut in through the alley way before landing on the road leading back to the dorms. Once again, the two of you stood dangerously close to one another radiating off each other’s body heat and before you knew it the building came into view and Jungkook led you up the walkway leading you to the main door. You didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want him to leave you but it’s not like you could actually say that.
You were a mere burden jumbled into bad memories and the worst years of his life.
“Thank you for coming along,” you pushed the thoughts although you don’t think you could ever really get rid of them.
“No thanks needed. I couldn’t let you take the trip on your own, especially not in this weather.”
He couldn’t let you. Your heart began to race as you tried to keep yourself from reading too much into his words. They probably didn’t mean anything… But what if he still cared? What if Jungkook still cared about you?
“See you around.” He nodded before heading off in the direction of his dorm.
I shouldn’t have said anything.
You turned around, but Jungkook was no longer near. His back was turned in your direction as he continued trotting down the sidewalk. Great! Now you’re hearing voices, after reaching for the metal door handle the voices reappeared.
Our memories are flavored in bitterness but I still can’t get her off my mind.
Jungkook was gone.
The thing about rumors is that they spread like wildfires and no matter how hard you work to extinguish that fire it is always too little too late. That’s how you felt as soon as you crossed the threshold from the bathroom and into the congested hallways. Everyones prying eyes read you so intently condemning you for the hypocrisy of allowing someone like Jungkook to permanently ink his lips on yours. The passionate dance the two of you composed left behind the imprints of his lips as he tattooed your skin with each one of the pecks he left behind.
Your phone buzzed in the back pocket of your jeans. You pulled it out, unlocking it, quickly seeing the photo your friend had snuck of you on his lap pop up. Your mouths devour one another and your bodies pressed together closely while your hand rests on his shoulder.
You wanted to frame it—live in the pixels of that picture forever.
‘Death complete bitch.’ Your best friend’s text read below the photo, ‘I can’t believe you actually kissed him.’
‘I can’t believe I did it either.”
‘What was it like?’
The worst part about it is that it had to come to an end. Your mind traveled an hour back and you recall the velvet feel of his lips as they moved against yours mimicking the softness of clouds. At the sametime his tongue was saccharine tasting of the sweetness of strawberries and maple syrup leading you to guess he had either waffles or pancakes for breakfast that morning.
All you wanted was to run back into that bathroom.
‘Nothing memorable. Just glad it’s over.’
‘Don’t worry you won’t ever have to kiss him again.’
Yeah, that was the fucking problem. You wanted to kiss him again, preferably you wanted to kiss him forever.
‘Yeah, thankfully.’
You didn’t know when that kill switch that made you a complete and utter bitch was flipped on, but all you remember were those calamitous days when you didn’t really know who you were and who you were meant to be. Those days were marked with pen squiggles, they were blurred and you chose to permanently turn the light off and lock the door behind you in that section of your brain.
Middle school was rough to say the least. But that was the beginning of your novel and you knew perfectly well who you were now.
You had the friends you did because they made you look good, you had the clothes you did because you had a reputation to uphold and you had the boyfriend you did because someone like you is supposed to be with someone like him. Those were the simple unspoken rules of high school and at first they were easy to follow until they weren’t.
Everything was simple until that summer before freshman year. The day you visited the park near your house and you spotted him, with his chunky black boots and signature black outfit matching his jet black hair. The two of you were only fifteen then but he already had a tattoo on his wrist peeking out of the sleeve of his crewneck, back then he didn’t have his lip piercing—not yet at least.
“I thought you only hung out in abandoned buildings and sketchy alley ways,” you remembered telling him that and the two of you spent hours on those swings talking the afternoon away. Back then, you learned Jungkook was a gentle giant disguised in an intimidating disguise. He was thoughtful in the way he looked at life and dreamt about the future, he was caring in the way that he spoke about nature, tattoos, music and everything else he held a deep passion for and lastly, he was attentive in the way he listened to you thoroughly drinking in every detail you had shared.
That was the Jungkook that made you fall for him in the blink of an eye but back then you didn’t know who he was and you were certainly not made aware of how things would end up.
The bell dismissing you from your last period class snapped you right out of your thoughts and you dashed out the door of the classroom wanting nothing more than to escape home and be left alone to bask in your thoughts.
“There’s a fight outside!” a few students called out running past you.
“Let’s go!” someone else yelled across the hallway.
You were nervous to ask but you did anyway, “fight? Who’s fighting?”
“Your boyfriend’s fighting someone,” a girl you didn’t quite recognize replied, “Jungkook, or something like that I think.”
By the time you made it to the parking lot there was already a crowd of people forming a circle around both boys. Jungkook held his bloody nose while your boyfriend clenched and unclenched his hand, likely to relieve the pain of hitting Jungkook. You ran in their direction but as you neared them you saw as the boy you called yours landed another punch on Jungkook’s face causing him to fall back on the concrete.
He didn’t fight back, didn’t even respond to the other boy’s insult. He just sat on the ground holding his face waiting for it all to be over.
“Hey,” you finally reached him, shoving him back to prevent another callous attack on the boy behind you, “what the fuck are you doing?”
“I saw the fucking picture,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
“The girls and I played a game of dare or death,” you explained, “it was only part of the death I had to complete. It didn’t mean anything.”
He lunged towards you and poked at your chest, “you still kissed him.”
The crowd went silent and your boyfriend’s anger highlighted the very thing you’d intended to place under lock and key—your pretty little secret no longer a secret or even pretty for that matter. You felt light headed and you weren’t sure if it was the punishing rays of the sun or the mental strain this was all causing.
You didn’t regret that kiss; you never would but you also thought that picture would stay between you and your friends.
A wave of murmurs swayed all around you and you knew your reputation was descending by the second.
You didn’t dare look at Jungkook, you knew his hypnotizing dark eyes would make you crumble. Seeing him like that. . The way he did all helpless and unprotected would compel you to care for him and cradle him in your arms until nothing or no one else could hurt him, “It meant nothing. Okay?” You heaved, “It meant nothing.”
Instead, you were dragged away from the boy your heart screamed out for.
Fuck, do I still like her?
Just shut up, Jungkook. It’s too early for this.
I shouldn’t be asking myself that. Ever.
Presently, you’ve gotten to know Jungkook for being reserved and fairly quiet, similar to how he was in high school except back then he actually spoke to you. But now, he is quiet and he doesn’t bother uttering a single word in your direction. The only times he ever addresses you is when he throws continuous jabs at you, landing every single one—he spews spiteful words of retaliation as a result of the shitty person were years ago and although you knew it was well-deserved that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Unlike his recently reserved outer shell, you quickly learned Jungkook’s mind traveled at the speed of light and for two days now, you could hear the constant battles of thoughts breaking out in his head.
Words crashed against each other; phrases were left abandoned half way through and ideas were left unfulfilled.
You groaned smacking your silk pillow over your face, your mind was exhausted on overdrive and increasingly overheating all because Jungkook couldn’t ease his thoughts and empty his mind at five in the fucking morning. Who. . Thinks this much at such ungodly hours of the morning, the sun isn’t even up yet.
The scattered clouds invaded the dark blue sky dusted in shades of purple.
Does she think of me?
I do.
Did she ever feel what I felt when we kissed?
I did—I do. I still feel it. Similar to how the sun feels on you on a hot summer day, the sparks on their ignited route as they traveled through every single inch of your skin setting it alight even today. You felt it then and you could feel it now.
Finally, his thoughts ceased and you guessed he’d probably drifted off into a slumber. He probably looked so peaceful you thought, grabbing one of your extra cushions, laid on your side and placed it in between your legs like a mommy pillow. Sleep came knocking on your door and your eyes began to feel heavy.
Jungkook probably looked like an angel as he slept. You could picture him laying in a sea of his messy sheets against his golden tone.
By the time you woke up once again, it was nine in the morning and the sun peeking in through the windows ripped you right out of your sleep.
Your room door burst open, “hey! I knew you’d be awake. What do you have planned for the day?” Hobi took a seat on the edge of your bed.
“Whatever happened to knocking? I could’ve been naked you know..”
“We’ve seen each other naked plenty of times.”
“Fair enough,” you laid facing the ceiling, “I wasn’t going to do much today just going to check Mr. Kim’s list. He posted it on the bulletin outside his class for our upcoming project.”
“Do you want me to make you something to eat before I go?”
“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”
He planted a soft kiss on your forehead, “I’ll be in the dance studio. You wanna come see me later?” His heart-shaped lips did very little to cover his pearly whites as he grinned, “I’ll give the front desk your name so they can let you up when you get there.”
“Please, don’t forget like last time or I’ll have to fight someone for real this time,” you said.
“Won’t,” he called out as he strutted towards the front door, “I promise. See you later.” You heard the door open and shut before you began falling asleep once again but the peace and quiet was very short lived because you heard him again.
What did I even dream about?
You wondered the same. Was he the type to dream up cute scenarios in that pretty head of his as he drifted off for the night? Did your face invade his mind in the late hours of the night? You hope you did.
Your name echoed in the basis of his mind followed by the emission of thunderous groans.
He seemed. . frustrated.
Ah, fuck. Yes, Jungkook just imagine it’s her.
The image in your head was impure as soon as you finally realized what Jungkook was actually doing. You’d imagined his hand disappearing under the base of the pyramid forming through his duvet. Stroking himself slowly, his head lolled back against his headboard, sweat glistening on his chest and forehead, while his eyes fluttered closed as his eyelashes batting away all reminders of reality.
I want her touch—need it. So bad.
You’d become too enthralled in the symphony of Jungkook’s whimpers that you hadn’t really noticed the death grip you had on your bed sheets as your knuckles turned white and the way your legs rubbed against each other in a desperate plea for some friction.
This was private. Jungkook needed privacy and while your mind opened a portal which prevented that, the best thing you could do was ignore him and the sensual persuasion laced in his bedroom voice, no matter how desperately he called out for you, it wasn’t right.
Ignore.
God, I would fuck her so good.
Think of something else.
With my cock buried deep inside of her. Fucking her into my mattress until she’s shaking with the overbearing stimulation of pleasure. Until, even her own name becomes a mere afterthought.
You grabbed your phone from the night stand but your lame attempt at a ‘distraction’ was useless. His words were addictive and you were already soaked right through your panties. Your sheets began sticking to your sweaty skin while Jungkook’s ardent words continued heating you up.
She would take me so well. Fuck!
A shower! That’s what you’d do—just take a cold cold shower to ease those thoughts and shut him out until he finally finishes.
You hissed as the hard pressure of frigid water hit your body from the shower head, even this wasn’t enough to mask the way your body shuddered as Jungkook continued. It was even more enticing that after everything—after his hostile gazes and cold words your face was in the forefront of his brain as he touched himself.
His alluring thoughts kept on playing one after the other and your cunt became the victim crying out to him with patterned pleas he would never hear. Your juices strolled down your inner thigh mixed in with the streaks of water and you could no longer bear the desperate thumps of aching cunt. You were going mad, honestly his stamina and self control were all to blame. The combination was torturous.
While you weren’t one hundred-percent sure of what he was doing the way his thoughts became sporadic weathering winds of pleasure and then tranquility. It was a cycle, he would be on the verge of succumbing to his peak and then all of the sudden he would stop. Before beginning once again and again and again.
The viciousness of his desire lasted until right around the time you turned the shower off and you couldn’t tell if for the past twenty minutes you had been in your own personal heaven or hell.
I hate how much I still want her.
I hate that I can’t have her.
You can have me, Jungkook. You can have me now, tomorrow and forever.
The heat was overbearing and you could feel the way your tank became soaked with sweat and the thin fabric stuck to your body. You heaved as you pushed open the glass door into the English building. Mr. Kim’s room was on the third floor and the bulletin board was stationed right next to his door. After opting out of climbing three flights of stairs you ride the elevator up and exit out to look at the posted partners for Mr. Kim’s upcoming project. Walking down the main hall you turn left and there it is—there he is.
The simplicity of his outfit was composed of a plain white tee, gray sweat shorts, and over the ankle white socks tucked into black slides. The colorful ink adorning his skin still peaked under the sleeve of his shirt, his black wavy hair rested on the nape of his neck.
The hallways were completely empty and his back still faced you so you kind of just stood there unsure of what to say or do. I mean you’d heard him masturbating just a few hours ago and while you truly did not mind even the slightest you weren’t quite sure how to even interact with him moving forward. While he seemed to despise you for the events that unfolded back in high school this morning was a complete change of events. His voice was dipped in sex as he moaned your name until he finally came.
God, why was it so hot in here? Is the AC really off mid-summertime?
“Hey,” his doe eyes stared at you, studying your off-putting exterior. Your eyes were blown wide, your tank was still soaked with sweat and you just stood there ogling him, “are you okay?”
He stepped towards you with worrisome eyes. ‘Oh yes Jungkook, I’m okay. I’m just picturing the way your hand climbs up and down the length of your dick, head tilted back, mouth slightly opened as groans form at the root of your throat. You know, the way you probably looked this morning.’
Instead you decided on a soft, “I’m okay.”
“You look like you’re about to pass out,” he placed his hand on your shoulder and you nearly fainted at the intense heat emitted from his skin to yours, “here, sit down,” he guided you to one of the lounge chairs sat opposite Mr. Kim’s class, “have you drank anything today?”
How could you kindly explain that was not the kind of thirst you were looking to quench.
“No. .” you shook your head.
“Okay, okay,” he grabbed a water bottle from the black backpack sitting at his feet. You hadn’t even noticed it before, you had been so focused on him the entire time, “here drink some.”
The bottle was half empty meaning his lips were on it and now your lips would be on it too. This wasn’t really what you meant when you said you wanted to feel his lips on yours but you didn’t really mind either.
“Yeah, sorry, I got thirsty on the way here,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I can get you one from the vending machine.”
You must’ve been looking at the bottle resting in his grasp like an idiot, “no, it’s okay Jungkook,” you rested your palm on top of his hand, “it’s not like we haven’t kissed before right?”
His eyes turned a shade darker than their usual brown and he cleared his throat, letting go of the water bottle right into your grip, “right.” he stepped back as if you were a cactus ready to nick him with one of your spines, “I was looking at the list for Mr. Kim’s class and we are partnered together with Jimin for the project.”
“Okay, should we meet at my place tonight or tomorrow? This is due this Monday,” you took a sip of the water tasting the remnants of Jungkook’s strawberry chapstick left behind on the rim.
“I have a basketball tournament due tonight but we can meet tomorrow if you’d like.”
“Tomorrow,” you repeated, “any time?”
“After four?”
“See you then.”
For the first time in forever Hoseok had actually left your name at the front desk of the studio on campus. After being left up you walked in through the double doors of the dance studio where the music blasted at highest volume and your best friend’s shoes squeaked against the shiny wooden floor as he moved throughout the room swiftly executing his choreography with perfection. Hobi was a force to be reckoned with and dance was his element.
“You’re here,” his professional and focused aura peeled back as soon as he saw you enter the room, “I need a break anyway.”
You sat on the floor with your back resting against the wall of mirrors.
“I’m here and I cannot believe I witnessed such perfection,” you clapped your hands, “I still cannot believe my best friend is talented enough to finally snatch me away from poverty.”
“You know I got us,” he sat beside you before laying his head on your lap. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat from head to toe, “but let’s not forget you chose to be poor.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice. I can’t really help having idiotic parents,” you shrugged.
“I know baby,” he cooed. Hobi was quiet which was definitely out of his usual nature where he radiated a blinding luminescent orb around his being. He fidgeted with the strings on his sweatpants and opened his mouth only to say it again.
“Hoseok, you’re anxious and it’s making me anxious. Just say what you need to say.”
You combed your fingers through his damp hair, “I saw they, your parents, left a voicemail for you last week. Did you ever get back to them?”
“No,” you sighed, “and I don’t think I want to either. Everything they tried to do and were willing to do was truly wicked and unforgivable.”
“You never told me what happened.”
“It involves Jungkook, of course, and everything we did while in high school, Yeonjun’s party the summer before senior year.”
“The one he threw the week before school started?”
“Yes.”
“To this day I still can’t remember shit about that night.”
You chuckled, “a lot of our classmates don’t remember that night at all but I do. I remember every single detail.”
He didn’t say anything so you continued.
Yeonjun’s lake house was like a maze. There were numerous narrow halls with an array of doors carved on each wall and it was the same for every single corner you’ve turned into so far. The little bit of alcohol you had began clouding your mind and you felt more intoxicated than you actually were. Your kitten heeled black sandals clacking against the hardwood floor sought a way out of this elaborate labyrinth and back to what you originally came for.
The music playing just a floor below faded as you traveled deeper and deeper into the second floor, although you could still feel the booming bass vibrating right under your feet.
You just needed a bathroom—not because you actually needed to use it but because you needed to take a minute to yourself. . to breathe. Every other corner of this house including the back and front yards and even the fucking lake are already invaded by massive seas of drunk teenagers. Their voices were too loud, the music was headache inducing and the atmosphere adopted a stench of sweat and b.o.
After ditching the red solo cup on a nearby console table, you leaned against the off-white walls closing your to block out the dim lights making you a bit lightheaded.
Seriously, who even had this many fucking rooms in one house. You mumbled.
Sure, your family was wealthy but you were nothing like the Choi family. Your parents were both doctor’s devoting their time to the tiny private practice the two of them founded but on the other hand Yeonjun’s family came from a long lineage of businessmen and they practically owned a handful of the businesses for miles and miles around.
You weren’t jealous of all of the extra zeroes attached to his parents’ net worth, you and your own lived comfortably enough to not have any financial complaints. However, his parents were more liberal and they didn’t clip his wings. They weren’t clingy or demanding and they certainly did not push anything on him that he didn’t want to do. Your parents were not this way, they were controlling, and they told you what to do and eat, who to hang out with and date. With covetous thoughts you wondered if there would ever be a point in your life where you could feel as free as Yeonjun did.
Maybe now that you’ve turned eighteen things would be different. Doubtful—your birthday was a month ago and nothing has changed. Unfortunately, you still lived under their roof and relied on their money.
You removed your shoes and hesitated whether to travel back down stairs and out somewhere into the depth of the forest but immediately erased the thought from your mind as you looked down at your bare feet, mini skirt and crop top. This wasn’t really an appropriate outfit to go off exploring the woods in the middle of the night.
The minutes continued ticking by and finally you spotted a door at the end of the opposite hallway with a vertical rectangular piece of frosted glass cut right down the middle. Your feet traveled down the heated floors before your hand reached out for the black knob; turning it slowly.
It was a rooftop balcony.
The railing was wrapped in garden lights, while two sets of black cushioned reclining beach chairs sat around a propane fire pit. There was a massive grill to the other side, a bar that would put a nightclub to shame and a huge patio furniture set.
Your eyes thoroughly scanned your surroundings before landing on the boy leaning against the rail staring at the idiots swimming in the lake below. For the first time since you met him approximately four years ago his legs were exposed under the light washed knee length jorts, he wore a white t-shirt and a pair of black and white checkered vans. Still, right up the alley of what his style embodied but you had to admit you missed his signature chunky boots.
He still hadn’t noticed you so you walked up slowly, “I never thought I’d see you at a party like this,” you whispered in his ear before jumping right beside him.
The moon rays reflected a twinkle in his dark eyes, “Yeonjun and I are cool.”
“So, why aren’t you down stairs?”
“Why aren’t you?” his gaze traveled from your black painted toes all the way up to your eyes as if he was studying you intently.
“Too crowded,” you shrugged, “and not enough room to breathe.”
Jungkook looked ahead, his vision once again consumed by the dark green and brown shades of the dense forest once again, his side profile put artworks all across the world to shame.
“Yeah, same,” he added, “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret but parties aren’t really my thing.”
“No way. . I’ve seen you at every party for the past three years,” he dramatically rolled his eyes at the sarcasm in your voice and you chuckled before continuing a bit softer, “is this your first one?”
Jungkook nodded, “first one I’ve been invited to and the first I’ve ever attended too.”
“We’re breaking records tonight aren’t we.”
“I guess I’m feeling a bit audacious.”
You sneered, “audacious? Big word.”
“Don’t tell me you think I’m stupid like the rest of our classmates. .”
“I did my internship in the main office last year which included sealing report cards and sending them off,” he walked to one of the chairs and laid on it placing both of his palms under his head. Was he flexing? Couldn’t be. “You’ve practically taken every AP class offered at our school and aced all of them too. It’s a miracle how you have managed.”
“What can I say?” he smiled and his cheeks rose like two loaves of bread in an oven, “I’m all brains baby.”
“Brains and beauty,” you corrected.
“I can’t also be ‘beauty’ when you’re here; living, breathing, being,” Jungkook is the personification of all of your desires and his aura worked hard to draw you closer and closer in his direction no matter how hard you worked to stay away, for his sake. Even when you tried to repel away from him the gravitational force he exuded called out your name and your tympanum became inundated by the wails of his being.
Only he lived in your thoughts.
The video-like memories you have shot of him throughout the years loop in your mind day and night. It was dizzying but you didn’t want it any other way.
“You are beautiful,” you let your thoughts roll off your tongue freely—too tipsy to care and too enthralled by his striking features to lie about what you truly felt. What you’ve been working so hard to suppress for the past few years. You were tired of hiding, so fucking tired, “with your big beautiful eyes, and your cherry lips and rosey cheeks and all of these tattoos,” you carried on, “oh, and those piercings. Don’t you know that Jungkook?”
He was flushed and his head became tilted down as he played around with the silver rings on his fingers, “know what?”
“That you are more beautiful than life itself.”
Jungkook scooched over on the chair and patted the empty space beside him inviting you to sit near him and you did. He laid on his side while his face rested on his left palm.
“Are you drunk?” he asked.
“I only had two sips of Hobi’s drink,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, “I’ve been on cranberry juice most of the night.”
“So this is not a case of drunken words you’ll forget once the sun comes up?” he leaned in closer and you could see the faint freckles dancing on his cheeks and on the bridge of his nose.
His eyes sparkled projecting bright constellations never before seen in the heavens, “I could never forget anything about you.”
“You know I can’t believe that right?”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ve forgotten about me for the past year,” he smiled devilishly, “you haven’t spared me the time of day. I’ve missed your sneaky glances. The way you’d drop your pencil half way through algebra just to bat those pretty eyelashes in my direction kind of like you are now.”
“I didn’t do that just to look at you,” you clutched the thin gold chain hanging from his neck, guiding him closer to you, “I was just genuinely clumsy.”
“I’m just saying it’s funny how the pencil always fell in my direction,”
“Forget the pencil, Jungkook,” shivers cascaded down your back as his lips hovered over yours—his breath fanning against them. The aroma of lemon, and mint, with woody and balsamic undertones tickled your nostrils.
Jungkook shook his head, his eyes remained on your lips as you swiped your tongue along them, “it’s not about the pencil?”
“It’s not,” you added, tucking the few strands of hair that framed his face behind his ear. You just wanted to lay there with him forever, to be consumed by the warmth of his embrace, to lose yourself in the tenderness of his kisses, to wake up next to him tomorrow and also every single day after that.
“So just admit you wanted to lo—”
You lips landed on his and finally you remembered just how magical kissing Jungkook was except unlike that day in school the bathroom, today, it wasn’t a game. You were there on your own free will and you didn’t care who was around to see. The only concern clouding your mind was how much more of him you craved. The way your mouths moved each other made you feel inebriated, even more than alcohol ever could and you weren’t afraid to admit his lips had you addicted.
The silver metal hoop hung onto the corner of his lip felt cold, but so good in comparison to his heated kisses. Despite where you were or how many people currently invaded Yeonjun’s house it felt like you and Jungkook were the only two people on the entire planet. Just the two of you with your lips dancing on each other with the moon and the stars baring as your only witnesses.
Jungkook pulled away slowly—panting slightly, “please shut me up like that more often,” he held your face, resting his forehead on yours and pecking your lips continuously, “tell me you’ll do it. Tell me you’ll always kiss my stupidity away.”
You nodded, “Jungkook, how about I kiss you like that always and forever. Not only because of your stupidity as you call it but just because.”
“Are you trying to confess something?”
He sat across from you on the beach chair taking your legs onto his lap, his soft hands massaged the soles of your feet. You swallowed back the guttural groan riding up your throat melting deeper into the chair due to his therapeutic touch. His fingers moved higher and higher up the length of your extremities, halting right above your knees, yet he continued kneading his fingers into your skin.
“Tell me.”
You hummed.
“I need you to be an open book with me. What are you looking to confess?”
Your eyes remained closed as he continued touching you gently—almost feather-like, “Jungkook, I can’t really think when you’re doing that. .”
“Should I stop?”
“No, please,” you pant.
He continued kneading your thighs, “tell me.”
From the tips of his fingers currents of electricity trickled onto your skin, “ah, fuck. .” you breathed, “I like you Jungkook. I like you. Okay?”
Hobi sat up beside you, now leaning against the mirrors as well. The sun has begun its journey towards the horizon and its rays peaked through the slightly drawn blinds, “wait so you guys. .?”
You nodded but said nothing else. That night had been a secret between you and Jungkook.
“On the roof of Yeonjun’s house during our senior year back to school bash?” The surprise in his tone was evident but you weren’t taken back by it all.
“Yes,” you smiled faintly, unwilling to hide the giddiness you felt from the memories of your time together from Jungkook, “it was our little secret. We swore to each other we wouldn’t say anything to anyone. That’s why I didn't mention anything to you before but obviously someone saw and word got out that same night.”
Hobi sighed, “don’t tell me another fight broke out between him and your dumbass ex-boyfriend.”
You shook your head, “this time it was different. I wasn’t scared of what others thought anymore. In that moment I decided I would stop caring. I wanted to stop hurting him,” your clammy hands began to shake slightly and Hobi placed his palms on top of them to stop their trembling, “that night after the party we rode around all night aimlessly. Enjoying each other’s company and truly I was the happiest I had ever been all my life. Everything went to shit as soon as I made it home and walked in through the door. My parents waited for me to get in, they sat me down and began rambling about my change in behavior and how different I had become.”
He hummed and you took that as a sign to continue.
“As soon as I sat on the chair that night they slid over my mom’s phone and there was a picture of Jungkook and I kissing on one of the longue chairs. I swear I had dejavu from freshman year.”
“Did you ever find who took the picture?”
“I never did but I always figured it was one of my ex’s minions or something,” you shrugged, “to be honest, trying to figure it out was the last thing on my mind. They started talking and talking rambling on about my personality change and rebelliance and how Jungkook was the cause of it or some shit.”
“How did they even come up with that?”
“I asked myself the same thing,” you snickered, just thinking about it even now makes your blood boil, “but it didn’t matter. Being eighteen didn’t matter; they just wanted to keep us away from each other at all costs. They made all types of threats to make me press charges and file a restraining order which I obviously refused. Then, they vowed to make his life hell if I didn’t stay away and I didn’t want to find out what they meant so I decided to comply and stay away.”
“Okay, now I’m beginning to understand why you moved in with my family half way through senior year,” his thumb rubbed circles on the dorsal side of your hand, “were they mad when you left? I used to ask my mom if your folks ever reached out but she always avoided the question.”
“They were livid but nothing they could ever say or do would ever make me stay in that place.”
“Did they manage to leave Jungkook alone?”
“Well, after the big cut-off Jungkook and I were never able to find our way back to each other,” your voice was low, almost as if you couldn’t hear yourself it just wouldn’t be true, “and I moved in with you and your mom and I completely blocked them out of my life.”
“Good. I’m glad you ditched them,” he pinched your cheeks, “you deserve better than them and their money’s no good to you anyway.”
“I just wish I would’ve kept in contact with him. Maybe tell him what was going on or something,” you scratched the back of your neck obviously frustrated at your lack of communication skills as a stupid eighteen year old. You were such an idiot—why couldn’t you open your fucking mouth?
“We all make bad decisions at one point in our lives but you had no choice, baby. You were sandwiched into the wall one bad choice up against another. You made the best decision you could with the circumstances at hand,” he snuggled closer to you, wrapping one hand around your shoulder, “don’t beat yourself up over it please.”
“I love you. Seriously, I don’t know what I would ever do without you.”
He kissed your forehead, “I love you more.”
Today Jungkook’s highway of thoughts has eased and though you liked how calm the morning has been you also kind of missed the feeling of his lingering presence—almost as if your own shadow was missing.
You despised waking up towards the early hours of the afternoon but today you couldn’t seem to peel yourself out of of your bed, until finally you couldn’t fathom the idea of napping your day away—plus couldn’t do that even if you wanted to because Jungkook and Jimin would be over in about thirty minutes to begin working on Mr. Kim’s project.
Jimin had been the middle man in this entire set-up, he had both of your numbers so he took it upon himself to text the two of your separately (because he knew you and Jungkook were physically impossible of initiating a social exchange amongst yourselves), and get you both on board with a neutral territory to meet at. Of course, Jimin’s idea of a neutral territory involved a place where he could catch glimpses of his ex strutting around which meant your apartment was his ideal meeting spot and although his thoughts hadn’t revealed anything so far you just knew Jungkook wasn’t ecstatic about this whole arrangement.
After taking a quick shower, getting dressed and setting up a plate of sliced fruits and a couple bags of snack size chips and cookies you heard a light knock on your door.
Taking a deep breath you turned the knob before pulling the door open. It was Jungkook and as always he looked breathtaking. You were beginning to think comfort was his go-to because yet again, he wore sweats and a simple t-shirt—tattoos still peeking out at you, his bottom lip still pierced with the same small silver hoop, hair half up half down and his book bag slung on his left shoulder.
Removing his headphones he stared back at you as you continued ogling him, “hey. .” he greeted in his deep tone.
Why is she staring at me like that?
Do I have a stain or something?
He looked down at his shirt but when he saw nothing he just stared back at you tilting his head slightly.
“Hi,” you stepped out of his way and he finally crossed over the threshold into your apartment, “you’re the first one here so we’re just waiting on Jimin to make it before we begin. Please sit anywhere.”
He nodded.
The apartment wasn’t necessarily big but it wasn’t small either. An open floor plan made up the space between the kitchen and living room area with a rectangular island separating the two rooms. Immediately to the right of that was the door leading to Hobi’s room, then your room sat at the end of that hall just a couple feet away and the bathroom was just across from your door.
Yet even as you walked towards the kitchen and Jungkook made strides towards the love seat in the living room you felt like the two of you were cramped in a tiny box with the temperature hiked to the highest setting. God, there were about a million things you could say or offer him but nothing could ever mend his broken heart and that was enough to keep your lips sealed tight.
Where the fuck is Jimin?
I don’t know if I can be here alone with her for much longer.
And it’s so fucking hot. I’m gonna pass out.
Fuck, you knew it. He’s upset. Though you already figured coming here was probably hard for him, you didn’t imagine it would hurt you as much as it did to actually know how much he despised being in your vicinity, but it did.
Jungkook sat rather stiffly on the couch, bag still slung on his back as if he was ready to leave, staring off into the distance while his leg bounced up and down anxiously. Strolling past him silently you nearned the thermostat and cranked the AC up higher.
That’ll literally fix nothing at all.
You turned around taking a seat on one of the accent chairs near the row of windows on the opposite end of the living room. If it wasn’t for the invasion of his thoughts, the silence would be killing you softly.
“Have you heard anything from Jimin?” he finally looked in your direction but not into your eyes instead they lingered lower—in the direction of your legs. The hunger displayed in his eyes took you back to the night before when he moaned your name so sweetly.
“Nothing,” you tapped your screen to show him the lack of texts and placing the phone back on your thigh, his gaze followed almost like he was hypnotized.
You would give anything to hear him just one more time—Fuck, just once more.
He cleared his throat, snapping out of those sinful thoughts cooking up in your head, “yeah, same. And I’ve texted him like three times.”
“I’m thinking that little shit bailed even though he planned this whole thing,” you were scared to form your thoughts into actual words, “do you want us to start or would you rather wait for him?”
He breathed out almost exasperated—damn, you should’ve kept the suggestion to yourself. You were about to take it all back but then he finally spoke up, “We’re both here now. I think we can begin and then fill him in. . If that’s okay with you.”
“Yeah, I think that’s the best we can do,” did he just willingly comply with staying alone with you, “I’ll go get my notebook. Gimme one second.”
“Okay.”
Right. . Okay. Just here to get our work done. That’s all. That is all. Yeah.
You sat beside him on the couch startling him just a bit—he seemed tense, “so we’re supposed to pick a movie, and match no less than three scenes to at least one of the emotions listed.”
“I say we do the very minimum and pick the movie I’m sure we’ve all watched,” he asked, unzipping his bag and pulling out his notebook.
“Titanic?” you asked.
“No, The Blind Side,” he scoffed, “do we really want to sit here for one hundred hours just to recap the eternity that is Titanic?”
“But the emotions for Titanic are so easy to dissect; we have happiness, love, and jealousy right off the bat,” you argued, “the assignment is practically done for us already.”
“Yeah, but everyone’s going to do Titanic. We need to stand out. Be different.”
“It’s an intro to writing class. I vote for taking it easy, weren’t you just moaning about taking it easy anyway?” your tone was a bit condescending you’d admit but the way he scanned your figure was addicting. There was nothing you craved more in this world than to have his gaze drink you in as if you were his favorite drink.
“I wasn’t moaning.”
I was last night though.
You swallowed hard, biting your tongue and holding yourself back from going along with begging him to moan the way you’d heard him do so the night before. His husk groans so low and sweet, so fucking sweet, “But you were.”
“It was a suggestion. There was no moaning involved.”
“Well, maybe if you did moan I would cave and take your suggestion,” the words rolled off your tongue before you could ever stop them.
He smirked, “so you just wanna hear me moan.”
Don’t smirk.
Eternally mad at her, remember?
The internal conflict raging within him gave you at least a little bit of hope. As you mapped out the field of his thoughts you figured he wanted nothing to do with but distance himself; to be cold and standoffish but he also revealed he wanted you. He wanted you near—to hold you, kiss you, touch you.
It was confusing and headache inducing but you liked that you still lived in his mind the same way he lived in yours.
You shrugged, “maybe I do.”
“Please, don’t,” his eyes finally met yours.
Look away.
But he didn’t and you were glad he didn’t.
“Do you want me to beg Jungkook?” you purred low and slow—the translation intended was desperation and you hoped he understood exactly what you were hinting at. You were tired of hiding behind your emotions.
She’s a fucking pied piper and I’m the snake hyptonized by sweet song and mindlessly slithering towards her.
Yes, Jungkook. Come closer, come to me. If only he could listen to your thoughts, this would be a whole lot easier.
Fucking one way telepathy.
“Uh,” there was a mere blank look plastered on his features. His pupils were blown and a soft tint of rose dusted his cheeks. It was as if your words had sucker punched him and he was still processing the hit.
You moved closer to him on the couch, placed your hand on his thighs to balance yourself as you drew closer to his ear, “please, Jungkook. Please, I need to hear you moan again.”
Fuck.
Fuck!
He groaned and the honeyed husk tone sent a trail of goosebumps up your thighs resulting in your panties becoming moist, “please.”
“Jungkook, I want you,” it was the first time in years you’d heard those words adjacent to his name and fuck did it feel good.
Fuck it.
His calloused hands were now on your waist and he began guiding you to lay on the loveseat before your hand landed on his chest to stop him.
“I said I want you,” you sat him back down before kneeling in-between his legs. The fit of his sweats got tighter, lifting and taking on the shape of a tent, “you didn’t reciprocate the sentiment so that means I’m in charge here today.”
Tell her. It’s easy.
Tell her you want her too, you fucking idiot.
He never vocalized it but you didn’t mind—knowing the thought pranced around on his mind was more than enough for you.
“Are you okay with taking these off?” he complied, taking his sweats off swiftly, letting the pool at his ankles. Jungkook is fucking big and you were taken back by the sight, “good boy,” you cooed.
His head fell back on the headrest while his eyes were shut tightly and his breathing became uneven. Oh! He likes that. He likes being called a good boy; you made a mental note to call him that again if you find yourself in a similar predicament.
You raked your nails along his inner thigh, “Jungkook?”
He hummed.
“What do you fantasize about?” you laid your head on his thigh, his dick just a couple inches away from your face and truly all you wanted was to take him all in your mouth.
“Alot of things.”
You reached up, taking his length into your hold and he winced at the contact as you began moving your hand up and down once and once again, “I need more details than that.”
“I think of. .” his words became jumbled in his throat as you continued your very mellow and teasing touch, “of you doing, ah fuck, of you doing all these things to me.”
You clicked your tongue and shook your head at his semi-confession, “Jungkook, have you touched yourself while you think of me, hm?”
Of course, you already knew. You’d heard it yourself but you just loved seeing him become so affected and so sensitive as a result of your lewd utters.
Your palms traveled up to his pink tip and began rubbing circles with your thumb painting it white with his precum.
“Good boys don’t touch themself.”
Jungkook’s mouth remained agape but there were no words communicated instead he formed a sort of soft whimper, and that was the kind of motivation your body needed to go into overdrive.
You wanted. . No, needed to rid yourself of these suffocating ass fucking clothes, you needed to touch yourself—to release that tension aching so painfully in between your legs. But you didn’t. Today was not about you.
“I know. .” he groaned, digging his nails onto the black leather couch, “but when I have you invade my thoughts,” he paused looking for all of the right words, “I just can’t control myself.”
“Hm, seems like I have a lot to live up to compared to your fantasies,” you kissed the head enveloped in your hand before swiping your tongue along his shaft and he hissed.
His saccharine noises should be made into a playlist so that you could be able to replay them over and over everywhere you go but especially when you lay under the covers of your bed in the late hours of the night. The only thoughts occupying your mind would be the compositions of his lustful cries as your fingers worked diligently to get yourself off.
It was so tempting to just allow his hands to continue traveling down your stomach and waist, a few more inches and his fingers could be at the exact location where your body screamed out for his attention.
You wanted it so bad.
You tutted while clicking your tongue, “sit back, Jungkook,” you removed his warm feeling away from your lower back and placed them on his knees before patting them softly, “and keep your hands to yourself. Yeah?”
“It’s really hard to,” he said, “nearly impossible when you’re working so hard to get me off and you’re just sitting there squirming whenever I talk about touching you. Cause the thought has lingered around in your mind, right?”
“Jungkook, this is not how tonight is supposed to go.”
“Then, how is it supposed to go?”
Your hand began moving up and down his cock, pumping him once again before you felt the corners of your mouth beginning to sting as you wrapped your lips around him. It was painful. . Good painful though. With each passing second you bobbed your head on his cock working to take him inch by inch but no matter how much you tried, it was nearly impossible.
His hand snaked around your neck aiding you, sinking himself deeper into the warmth of your mouth. With strings of saliva streaming down your chin, puffy lips, heated skin and a sort of fucked out look in your eyes you continued the repetition.
Seeing him lose himself under the ministrations of your touch and mouth was overwhelming and drove you to the verge of nearly succumbing to the peaking orgasm lurking close by. Instead you diverted your mind to what you were doing instead of what you felt. Placing one your hand around the base of his balls massaging them into your touch, while you put firm pressure with your thumb on the perineum—and that’s when you saw the explosion of fireworks erupt in his eyes while his thighs began to shake.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Her mouth is—fuck!
“I’m so close,” a needy whimper escaped his lips, “please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Please.”
You complied, nearly choking on his cock. The feeling of being nearly rid of your ability to breathe was addicting and yes, if tonight were to be your last day on earth it would be a pleasure to die with Jungkook’s dick in your mouth.
“I’ve been a good boy,” he cried out, “can I please cum?”
Been such a good boy. So good.
You hummed in approval right before he spilled into your mouth and you swallowed every bit of it before turning to see his splayed out body—all limp and tired.
After wiping the corners of your mouth you sat beside him on the couch. Your knees were red and stung just a bit but honestly you could do it all over again—all night if you could. Slightly, opening his eyes he looked down, placing a kiss on each knee.
“I never thought we would-” he paused momentarily, “we would do something like this ever again.”
“Really?” your voice became hoarse, “because I’ve thought about it for a long long time now.”
“You have?”
“I have,” you continued, “and I’d like to think you do as well but if you’re ever ready to actually admit what you truly feel you know where I’ll be.”
I do want you. So bad.
And my feelings for you have always remained the same. I still have feelings for you, I feel everything for you. I always have and always will.
He didn’t say a word but simply offered a sly smile before slipping away to get himself together in the bathroom.
… But you were not disappointed.
He needed time and that’s okay. You’d be more than happy to give him the time to dissect this peculiar relationship the two of you have. . developed. It’s the least you could do after all these years.
In your heart you just hope he finds his way back to you.
“So you sucked him dry and then you both continued to work on the project like nothing happened?” Jimin asked; his head laid on Hobi’s lap. Yes, they were back together. This was apparently the reason why he had missed the project session the night before.
“We were kinda forced to when your ass was MIA from the very meeting you set-up.”
He rolled his eyes, “nobody forced you to suck his dick.”
“Fuck you, Jimin.”
“Why don’t you begin by fucking Jungkook instead.”
“Jungkook and I aren’t fucking anytime soon,” you sighed spinning around on your desk chair. The ceiling seemed to come crashing down on you even as you thought of gravity of your fucked up reality, “it’s like I can feel that he still feels something for me but he just won’t vocalize it.”
Hobi caressed the apples of Jimin’s pink cheeks, stroking them lightly with his thumb. They were the picture perfect image of love—whenever they were not fighting of course.
“So you sucked his dick at the expense of what?” Hobi inquired.
“I really just wanted him in my fucking mouth,” you shrugged not really wanting to scramble for any other explanation because the truth of the matter is all of you would always calls out for Jungkook whether you wanted to or not.
“Oh, baby,” Hobi abandoned his place on your bed and kneeled in front of you holding your hands in his, “while I support all forms of slut revelations and tendencies as your best friend it is within my obligation to require you to tend after your heart.”
You nodded.
“Jungkook is alluring, captivating, mysterious and absolutely handsome—” Jimin cleared his throat behind him, but he ignored his boyfriend and proceeded, “and the two of you have a lot of history both good and bad but you have to understand what happened in the past is yesterday’s event. Jungkook can break your heart or hurt you in any way and it’ll be just as fucked up no matter what happened between the two of you back in high school. Okay?”
“Okay,” Hobi was right but how could you shut out the part of your brain which justified every single way Jungkook could tear you apart? Underneath the spark; shining bright in your eyes every single time he appeared in your line of vision you knew you deserved his wrath for every inconvenience you had a role in while inserted into his path.
“Don’t just say it. Mean it.”
The room felt smaller, suffocating, colder and Hobi’s words rolled around in your head in every single direction. The three of you were sprawled around your full bed watching a random movie Jimin had picked out. You sat up against the headboard while the two of them laid on their stomachs facing the television hung on your wall. You weren’t alone but your bed felt empty and as you looked off to your right you couldn’t help but be transported back to last night when you and Jungkook finally settled on the Titanic.
The tragic telling of two people who found their way to each other against all circumstances and the barrier of societal norms and expectations that stood in-between them. Of course, aside from Leo unnecessarily dying in the final act this could be a retelling of pinpoints on your relationship with Jungkook. You liked each other, your parents were against it, you lived in the moment and you let your heart lead a way here and there but as soon as the iceberg (your parents, your ex, and even you) became introduced as the antagonist the two of you found yourselves swimming in an ocean of heartbreak and despair.
You would always assume responsibility for every single way you hurt Jungkook in the past but if one thing must be crystal clear is that you also love him. You did back then and you do now—the only difference is that back then you were looking to please all of those around you and you suppress your feelings in the deepest pocket of your heart but you wanted to liberate it all. You were finally ready to listen to your heart.
It was a composition to a beautiful song, one so loud it courses through your very being, awakening your nerves and causing your thoughts to explode into a frenzy.
You wanted him here with you. Snuggling into you sharing longing looks and deprived touches.
You wanted him to be open and push all of his fears away.
You wanted him to realize that you were different now. Things were different and you would treat him so well.
I need to talk to her. Yeah.
Almost as if his brain and his phone were wired together you heard a ding go off right beside you.
‘Hey, can we please talk?’
Your heart sank because in your experience that sentence never led to a good thing. Never.
‘Sure. When are you free?’
‘Right now.’
‘Hobi and Jimin are home. You can come over if you don’t mind some company or we can meet somewhere else?’
‘Come to my apartment in 5.’
‘K.’
Jittery was the exact word you’d use to describe Jungkook at soon as he opened up the door to his apartment and stepped aside to allow you in. The length of his finger had a slight tremble and his eyes were blown wide.
You hadn’t really seen him like that in a while.
“Jungkook, are you okay?”
He nodded, “yeah, just a bit stressed with everything going on plus I’ve had like five energy drinks in the past five hours.”
“What’s got you so stressed?” you asked standing before him, you felt hesitant to sit anymore. I mean you did have his dick in your mouth like less than twenty-four hours ago but you didn’t want to push it and you certainly did not want to invade his personal space.
“Too many things, honestly. School for one. .” he ran a hand through his hair taking a brief second to determine exactly what he wanted to reveal to you, “work study plus now I'll be co-coaching the swim team as well.”
“You’re headstrong Jungkook,” you offered, “I’m sure you’ll do amazingly even with this hectic schedule you are so determined to take on.”
“I went to this psychic once and she told me my ambition to take on everything would lead to my demise,” he chuckled airily, “I’m beginning to think she was right.”
“Psychics are bullshit. Who says you can’t have cake and chocolate ice cream too?”
“Right,” you hadn’t noticed before but casual was Jungkook’s new staple. Seems like he has drifted away from his black boots and particularly dark toned outfits. You liked that version of him quite a lot, although you hadn’t really shown it in the past. However, you also liked the version of him standing before you where he maximized comfort and migrated to mostly tones of white, gray and nudes, “of course you would make that comparison. Cake and chocolate ice cream have always been your go to dessert combination.”
“Isn’t it everyones?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “for example my nutritionist might say it’s too sugary.”
“Well, fuck the psychic and that nutritionist of yours too,” Jungkook’s laugh is just like the rest of him—inviting, sweet and genuine. When he laughs, it’s addictive enough to make you want to make him laugh again and again, just so you can hear that sound and see her giggly smile as much as possible, “forreal, but also just remember you gotta just live in the moment, don't worry about tomorrow or even yesterday. Today is all that matters.”
“I definitely agree but funny enough I kinda wanted to talk to you about what happened last night..” He cleared his throat, “on the couch of your apartment. Well you and Hobi’s apartment.”
You looked down at your dusty white converse before finding his eyes once again, “what exactly did you want to talk about?”
Go on. Go on.
“We’re good right? Are you okay after—well, you know,” was he worried about hurting you after you suck him off yesterday? God, you could suck his dick all over again and then once more after that or preferably until your jaw locks and your knees dissipate. Though, that still wouldn’t be enough to extinguish the burning desire in the pit of your stomach.
“What exactly are you asking?” you took a step towards him, “shouldn’t I be the one making sure we’re good especially considering all of our history together?”
“Forget that.”
Don’t bring it up, please. Just forget about it.
“I can’t Jungkook,” you sighed, “I wanna make sure we’re okay and I wanna apologize for what happened. Please, let me do it. I don’t want you to resent me for the rest of your life because of it.”
“There’s no need to. I forgave you long ago. The cold stares and snarky comments were always just a front,” he confessed, “I forgave you the second after everything went down.”
“And I thank you for that but I still need to do this. I need to get it off my chest,” you reached for his hand; the warmth of his hold settled your nerves and finally you were able to go on, “Please, forgive me Jungkook. For going through with that dare and kissing you in the bathroom. I did want to kiss you but I should’ve never let them take a picture; it only made things worse for you. I’m sorry for not comforting you after your fight with my idiot ex, although I wanted to. I was scared but you were too and it was my fault so I should’ve been there. I’m sorry for ghosting you after we spent the night together at Yeonjun’s party—my parents, they gave me an ultimatum and I was just a high school senior still very dependent on them and I know that’s not an excuse but I managed to make it one back then. Most of all I’m so fucking sorry for not reaching out to you sooner and making things right. I just hope it isn’t too late now.”
His hands abandoned yours and instead he leaned over before cupping your face, “I told you already. I forgave you for everything a long time ago.”
“I appreciate your kind heart and forgiving nature, Jungkook,” you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes in the process, “but still I needed you to know how truly sorry I am.”
“Please, stop apologizing,” he sighed, “the past is the past and you have no reason to be apologizing to me right now.”
“You keep saying that but I did and I do,” Jungkook’s stare was comforting; his eyes felt like embers burning your skin under the sun rays shining bright during the mid-afternoon sun, “and I will continue to do so at any given minute. I need to make up for all of that lost time—every single minute; every hour I’ve let you slip through my fingers. You deserve to be treasured, loved and cherished for the rest of your days and I will do just that if you allow me to.”
“What exactly are you asking me?”
“I’m simply asking that we allow things to ride out and perhaps the tide might just take us somewhere beautiful.”
He giggled, “do these sonnets just live in that pretty little head of yours?”
“My head is more than just pretty,” you challenge.
“I know that,” this is the giddiest you’ve ever seen Jungkook be. In recent times he had adopted a sort of hard shell, which he often wore like a shield but today as he leaned on his kitchen island with his head propped up on his palms he looked elated, “I just like the way you describe the potential of there being an. . us.”
“Do you like it enough to give things a chance? Maybe even go on a date?” the tremble in your extremities gave away just how truly nervous you felt, though you tried your best to hide it. You’d never asked anyone out before but for Jungkook you were willing to make the first move.
She’s so poetic with her affinity for love. I like the way her eyes light up when she talks about us being together.
“How about tomorrow?”
“I’m free tomorrow.”
The following day was a blur overshadowed by a nimbostratus cloud which swept in a vicious squall with gusts so powerful your room was left a literal mess as you spent hours prior to Jungkook picking up frantically looking for the perfect date outfit.
Now, you sat in your little casual red dress in the passenger seat of the car Jungkook borrowed from his best friend. Your balmy sat atop your thighs and you tapped your fingers lightly on your heated skin.
The night sky was beautiful—drowning with a million of bright stars and a moon so illuminating it spotlighted your path. Nightlife here roared with vibrancy and the sidewalks were congested with people bar hopping or looking for dinner spots among other things. This scene had great capability in finally claiming your attention away from Jungkook and his sinful thoughts but it was hard. Every single image Jungkook painted within the beauty of his mind blasted in your head seemingly like a framed art piece in a gallery. Except, the only difference was that roaming around a museum was peaceful, whereas Jungkook's wandering thoughts made you quiver and sent glacial shivers down your spine.
For the duration of the ten minute car ride he’s use the weapon known as his mind and managed to peel your clothes off, re-imagining the way your mouth moved on his cock, then, within seconds he painted a picture of what it would be like to fuck you against the hood of his car. You’d admit the depiction of you against the cold metal bumper with your dress hiked up to your waist, while he pounds into you relentlessly really was more than enough to ignite (with the man sitting behind the wheel; eyes hyper focused on the road ahead; and his tattooed knuckles gripping the steering wheel), about a million fantasies you wanted to fulfill with his assistance.
But the urge to have the heat of his touch roam every inch of your body became abated when Jungkook parked his car and you found yourselves sitting across from each other in the red booth of a seafood restaurant on the pier. The incandescent bulb overhead did very little to irradiate the space between you and yet Jungkook still looked as radiant as ever. The muffled and incessant chatter of the patrons scattered throughout the establishment became similar to the buzzing of bumble bees and truly you weren’t really too sure you could make out conversations they engaged in.
You were kind of nervous and although you’d hope it wasn’t too obvious you couldn’t help the way your eyes scanned the room and your body failed to comply with the simple order of sitting still.
“You look beautiful tonight,” Jungkook sat up on the leather seat and looked off outside the glass window drinking in the vicious waves as they crashed against the golden shore.
You look beautiful every single day.
“Thank you,” you smiled, “I see your signature black boots have finally made a comeback,” you followed his eyes out to get a view of the roaring sea, “I thought you might’ve grown out of them.”
This look—tonight was the epitome of teenage Jungkook core and you couldn’t help but savor the brief stroll down memory lane. Of course, back in high school you’d always had a tiny little crush on him and while you worked to get over it; that was not an issue today. You were gawking—practically drooling at how amazing his biceps looked under the sleeves of his white tee, his black jeans hugged his thick thighs and his hair was tied half up half down and of course those damned black boots.
“They’re my secret weapon. I just keep them in the back of my closet for special occasions.”
I also know they were always your favorite look on me.
“In that case, I’m honored that a night with me is considered a special occasion enough to bring out the boots,” Jungkook finally turned towards you, his eyes shining bright like jewels even in the shitty lighting.
“I figured it fit our little slice of history perfectly.”
“Don’t tell me these were the exact ones you wore that day?
“They are the exact same ones.”
“I thought you would have gotten rid of them with everything that transpired,” you whispered; talking about the past still felt taboo.
“I contemplated that many times,” he shrugged then proceeded in a timorous voice, “but I just couldn’t. There is an abundance of bad memories attached to them but the memory of my first kiss trumps all negatives.”
“Your first kiss?” Your shock was evident and for a second you had to look around just to make sure you weren‘t too loud but the people around the two of you were too into their own conversations. They were oblivious to the little corner you and Jungkook occupied towards the back of the restaurant—in your own little world, “I-I was your first kiss?”
He nodded before taking a small sip of his water.
“Jungkook?”
He looked at you, “what?”
“Are you being one-hundred percent serious. . I was your first kiss?”
Jungkook pressed his lips into a tight line causing his cheeks to become impaled by his chasmic dimples; then, he closed his eyes briefly before taking a deep breath, “I was a loser in high school. Of course, I was spared a few friends but in the ‘love’ department I was lacking severely so naturally no one was ever interested in pursuing anything romantic with me. Until, that afternoon when the girl I’d been crushing on finally walked up to me in the bathroom.”
“If I could go back in time and embrace the feelings that I had for you, Jungkook just to tell you how I actually felt I’d do it in a heartbeat,” your heart beat rhythmically in your chest and quickly you began feeling fatigued as if your air supply would be cut off if you didn’t peel back every single one of your layers and confess exactly how you felt.
“If I could go back in time and tell you what I actually felt despite the consequences I’d also do it in a heartbeat,” he murmured, taking your hands in his.
“Good evening and welcome to Under the Sea, can I get you started on anything tonight?” the server approached. Her hair was tied up messily and she wore a black polo and black pants while carrying around a small notepad and pencil in her hand. She seemed friendly but a bit overwhelmed—though, you couldn’t really blame her, this place is leaning a whole lot towards chaos.
“Yeah, we’re ready,” Jungkook said, a fib of course, the two of you had been too busy talking to scan the menu before she came over, “I’ll take the Cioppino. Anything looking appetizing to you?”
“I think I’ll take the Paella.”
“And for drinks?” she asked scribbling away on her notepad.
“I’ll have a Coke.”
“Same here,” the two of you handed back the menu, “thank you.”
“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she smiled before walking off towards the kitchen.
The rest of the night at Under the Sea was brief and while you and Jungkook indulged in small talk here and there the two of you were starving and more concerned about getting something in your stomach. After leaving the busy restaurant Jungkook led you in the opposite direction of the parking lot towards the small park across the street from the beach. Right under the live oak tree there was a blanket laid out with numerous flameless candles flickering their feeble light around the very spot. As you got closer you noticed the basket sitting next to the blanket on the grass and the rose petals scattered around.
“Jungkook. .” You became stunned at the attention to detail of the man before you. Everything looked so beautiful, “you did this all? W-when did you even have the time to set this up?”
“I set everything up before our date and I know some of the workers from the restaurant and asked them to check in every once in a while and bring our snacks out like five minutes ago so nothing would spoil.”
“You prepared snacks for us?”
“More like I cut-up some fruits.”
“In that case I’m judging your knife skills.”
“Not too harshly though,” he tittered softly and airily. It mimicked the comforting tunes of lullabies, “come one, let’s sit. I have some things lined up for us tonight.”
You sat beside him on the velvet fabric, you folded your legs to your side and used one of the spare blankets to cover your lap. Before you there were two medium sized tabletop easels and a selection of paints and brushes.
Jungkook removed the white button up he’d left unbuttoned and kept on the white wifebeater. For the first time you finally had a full view of his sleeve; on full display. The black traces filled in with colorful shades adorned every inch of his right arm all the way down to his wrist. You had the urge to reach out and trace every single pattern but you held back—you and Jungkook were good but this is the beginning stage; first you have to dip your toe in and test the waters.
She’s staring at my arms. . Be calm.
Don’t flex. . Don’t flex.
Dammit.
He flexed, reaching up to brush a stand of hair back and out of his face.
You smiled, “so, what’s supposed to be our inspiration for painting tonight?”
“Each other. You paint me and I’ll paint you.”
“Jungkook, I’m a lousy painter,” you whined.
“The point isn’t for it to be good,” Jungkook began brushing soft strokes on the canvas, “it’s about the creative process. . the ideas that your mind interprets into art.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” you scoffed.
“Art didn’t always come easy to me.”
“How did you know this is what you wanted to do for the rest of your life?” you finally picked up a brush and squeezed a dash of paint on the wooden palette, allowing your hands to work freely—to create.
“The first time I drew anything for others to see was in high school,” his eyes were gleaming with thoughts of reminisce, “Ms. Julie, reached out to me sophmore year, said she needed my help designing the yearbook cover for the seniors that year.”
“I remember the cover that year,” Jungkook looked over at you and there was a layer of joy featured on his face, “it was absolutely beautiful and I also remember every single cover after that being just as amazing.”
“Thank you,” his cheeks were a crisp crimson now, “I designed all of the year books every year after that as well. Actually, I still help Ms. Julie from time to time even now.”
“That’s amazing. It’s truly a gift that your hands possess and I’m so glad we get to see what they create.”
Jungkook stopped his movements all together, his gaze no longer set on the easel, instead he looked downward, his cheeks still burned bright, maybe a little more now than before and by the paced heaves of his chest he seemed to be calculating his every breath.
“Thank thank you,” he stammered.
“And just so you know I intend to shower you with compliments, so get used to it.”
He beamed, “what about you?”
“What about me?”
“What are your passions?”
You shrugged, “Hm, I was never really good at anything back in highschool and while I knew I had to do something. I had a really tough time figuring things out.”
“But then. .”
“Then, I did an internship at the daycare on campus the summer before classes started and I realized how much I love being around all of the kids,” you said, “and at that moment I automatically knew what my major would be, come the fall semester.”
“Funny how life works right?”
“One-hundred percent.”
The cool draft of the expeditious night swept by softly allowing you to leave behind the once scorching afternoon. Right now, you became a resident in your very own slice of heaven and in your head the only people around for miles were you and Jungkook. For the past thirty minutes, the two of you haven’t crossed many words, you were too focused on contextualizing the perfect artwork—one that’ll remind him of you wherever he sees it.
Now, you were not an artist by any means but you tried nevertheless. The best interpretation of him you could come up with was to depict the sheer contrast between the different versions of himself.
The two were slightly different yet when meshed together working symbiotically to make Jungkook the perfect mixture of tranquil, mesmerizing and lulling all in one.
Your canvas was split in two—one side you painted baby blue with music notes substituting the clouds in what would be the bright afternoon sky and and a lousy excuse for a guitar sitting on the bottom. This was the version of him that lived inside and the one only a few people got to see. His mysterious aura and great passion for music. Then, on the opposite side you painted a black background in combination with it there was an abundance of colorful art supplies scattered all throughout. This one represented what he chooses to show and what many saw on the outside on his day-to-day course.
After some finishing touches you moved back on taking one last look at your work, “okay. . Here, I tried my best but it’s not your face. Just some things that remind me of you.”
“Let’s see,” he hummed excitedly, waiting for you to turn the canvas around.
“Be nice, okay?”
“I will, I will.”
When Jungkook was excited there were a lot of distinctive actions that communicated with his body and expressions. His eyes lit up like the explosions of fireworks on a summer night; his shoulders were raised up past his jawline and his cheeks burned bright.
“It’s not good, okay,” you beamed at his cheerfulness; it was cute how thrilled he was.
“It’s perfect,” he leaned closer to sneak a glance, “come on. Let me see.”
“Fine,” turning the canvas around felt like an invasion of privacy, although everything on it was solely about him, it was still like a clear window into your soul and how you saw him.
You’d never been this vulnerable before with anyone. Never.
He scanned the explosion of colors sitting in-between your hands. Jungkook’s lips curved up while the corners of his eyes wrinkled in amusement.
“This is amazing and absolutely the best depiction of everything I love.”
“Don’t lie to me, Professor Picasso.”
“I don’t lie about art,” he reached for it and you placed it in his hands, “and this is a masterpiece.”
You scoffed.
“I’m serious,” he argued, “this is going up on my art wall. Front and center.”
“This better be the only thing on your art wall,” you muttered.
Jungkook finally grabbed his canvas holding it close to his chest. . Well, as close as he could due to the wet paint, “Here’s mine.” he still had not turned it around for you to see.
“You know you actually have to turn it for me to take a look.”
He chuckled, “I know but nervousness is contagious. . Just gimme one second.” He took a deep breath before slowly turning the canvas in your direction and there you were. Same facial features, hair style and red dress you had chosen for the night. The talent his fingers convey is jaw dropping. It is evident Jungkook is an amazing artist through and through.
“Jungkook. .” You knew he was good; you’d seen the covers he had designed for the highschool yearbook back then, still, that didn’t prepare you for this in the slightest bit to see yourself from his point of view, “I don’t have an art wall but this will definitely be the beginning of one in my apartment.”
He guffawed while passing his painting over.
“I’m serious,” you continued, now closely examining his precise attention to detail. He got every single attribute down to the smallest scars and birthmarks, “your talent is impeccable. Just look at how amazing this is. It’s actually not fair at all. I want mine back.”
“No way! You can’t take back gifts you have already given away to someone.”
“Yes, I can,” you argued, “especially if my gift looks like shit next to yours.”
“It most definitely doesn’t. I already told you, I love it and it’s going up on my wall and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he leaned closer, placing a soft peck on your forehead and clutching the painting tight in his grasp.
You groaned admitting defeat, “but I am expecting a lot more paintings from you.”
“Always.”
Of course. As long as you’re beside me, and even if some day for some reason you aren’t, you’ll continue to be my muse forever.
His muse. You love the sound of that.
The sound of the pouring rain beat rhythmically on the glass window. For the next few hours your bed was your haven and Jungkook’s bare arms were your form of a warm blanket.
Although the clock on your night stand marked four o’clock, the day was as dark as night and as the sun refused to come out to play the dark nimbus clouds invaded the stretch of the expansive sky, refusing to allow even a single ray of light to illuminate your bedroom.
The power had gone out but the two of you had lit up some candles in various locations of your room. You were both in your underwear, semi-sticky with a thin layer of sweat coating your entire body as a result of the air conditioner no longer being on.
Even in the heat the two of you couldn’t untangle yourselves from each other.
“We’ve been laying here in the heat for hours,” his fingers raked over your shoulder and down to the middle of your back.
“There’s nowhere we can go to cool down for the day. I’m afraid these four walls are it for us today,” you complained.
“And moving will only make us hotter.”
“I think the two of us being tangled up like this is already making us hotter.”
His hands tightened around your waist, “yet there’s nothing you can say to let me go.”
“Then, it’s a good thing I don’t want you to let go,” you crossed your arms on his chest and laid your chin on them; looking up at him through your lashes taking in his figure as he laid back against the headboard.
“Why are you looking up at me like that?” he asked though his eyes were still closed.
“I just like having you. . here.”
“In your room?” he asked.
“In my life,” you confessed, “I guess I never thought we could make it here again.”
“I had faith—hope. I knew that eventually we would get to talk and forgive each other.”
Every fight and every bicker was a call to drive you closer to me. Immature I know, but it was all I could do and say to get close to you.
“You didn’t do anything wrong to me, Jungkook,” you traced lines over his collarbones leaving before sparks of electricity; you felt as they traveled down to the tip of your finger, “if anything I was constantly praying you’d forgive me.”
Forgiving you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
“I walked away after Yeonjun’s party,” he caressed your cheeks with the pads to his finger, “that was my worst mistake and I knew exactly how it looked too; like I just hit it and quit it.”
“You didn’t hit it and quit it, Jungkook,” you sighed, “I did that to us. I was the one who walked away from us. None of it was your fault.”
“But I let you walk away. I didn’t fight for us.”
“Hey,” you cradled his face in your hands, “I didn’t let you fight for us. This is on me.”
But I never went searching for you. I just let you—walk away. The night you got up from that longue chair on the rooftop of Yeonjun’s house I thought that was our beginning; I just never thought it could be our end instead.
“It’s on us,” Jungkook leaned into your touch, softly moving his cheek against your palm, “but we can only work to overcome our past. . Together.”
You held onto the gold link looped around his neck, clutching it in order to pull him towards you until finally your faces were just an inch away from each other, “Together.”
“Kiss me, please,” his breath fanned across your lips as you continued guiding him closer and closer to you—his eyes were closed once again and he completely succumbed into this trance of your navigation. His lips were warm and velvet; parting slowly before they landed on yours. You became lost in the way your heartbeat continued beating faster and faster. The soft ballad of the steady thrumming tickled your ears and along with the taste of his mint lips on yours you began feeling a bit faint.
The room was still hot, the power was still out and you still sat on Jungkook’s lap but now you became exhilarated riding off the feelings in the way your body connected. It wasn’t just the kiss—no, it was also the way his electric touch began tracing the lines outlining your body, traveling down between your breasts, then down your stomach and up your sides until they rested on your hips. Jungkook’s fingers teasingly toyed around with the elastic waistband of your panties, rubbing small circles on your lower back.
You were breathless pulling away from that kiss but in between breaths you managed to pull his forehead against yours before allowing yourself to speak one again, “Jungkook, can I tell you something?”
He nodded.
“I-I want you, Jungkook,” your brain felt like it melted right into mush and there were no coherent thoughts in your head that didn’t revolve around Jungkook.
You were dickmatized. Yes, you were.
“You have me.”
“I want all of you.”
“Take it all,” he whispered.
Do anything you want to me. Do everything you want to me. Do whatever you want with me. I am yours for the taking.
You felt the beads of sweat strolling down your body accompanying the slight tremble in your every movement. Still, you moved with the facade of faux confidence and soon you found yourself straddling his thigh, sinking down against his heated and sticky skin. Indulging in a steady pace you began moving back and forth against his thigh all while holding onto his shoulder for support. Jungkook’s head fell back against the wall but his hands never left your waist guiding your movements to the quickened beat of desperation.
“You look so pretty riding my thigh. You know that?” he smirked; his cheeks were the tone of wine. Jungkook bit his lip to maintain focus on the sloppy motion he continued to maneuver.
You hummed entirely consumed by that heated feeling in between your thighs—entranced in the way his soft whimpers only guided you towards that very place where you could finally reach out and touch the stars.
“Fuck—fuck, keep going, yeah?” you stammered never ever wanting him to stop being the root of your every desire.
What gave her the impression that I’d stop? This. . Us, it just feels so right. I will never be able to live in a reality where the image of her getting off on my thigh could ever cease—not after today. Not ever.
“Just-just let me guide you, baby girl,” his voice was low and husk followed by a series of unpaced breaths.
“Take me there, Jungkook,” you moaned.
Oh, fuck—I’ll take you there baby. I’ll take you there. I’ll take you there.
His fingers dug into you while his fingernails left behind marks of deep crescents traced on your skin. The guidance of his movements was near animalistic and the fabric of your panties was now sticking to your juices and there was nothing you craved more than the desirous urge to unravel under the trance of Jungkook’s ministrations.
Back and forth; back and forth you moved reaching higher and higher as your fingertips brushed touch the points of the luminous star and before you knew your teeth sunk into his shoulders suppressing your moans and your hips no longer followed the rhythm he previously set and you were finally swimming in the night sky—so high; so satiated.
“Oh,” you breathed, “that-that was amazing.”
“You tired yet?” he asked.
“Not at all.”
Jungkook hugged your waist and flipped the two of you over; your bodies pressing together heatedly against the ocean of sheets, breathing heavily as your lips pressed together once again. His hands quickly dipped under the waistband of your panties reaching for your inner thigh, until you felt him press the pads of his fingers in between your folds smearing the combination of your juices. After his torturous teasing he slipped two fingers pumping them in and out of you quickly.
“Oh, baby,” he finally pulled away from your lips, allowing a string of whimpers to slip past your swollen lips, “you feel so fucking good.”
“Jungkook, faster please,” you rocked your hips to match the beat of his fingers moving in and out of you.
“Is that what you want?” he hummed, “tell me. You want to cum at the mercy of my fingers?”
“Yes-yes. That’s what I want please.”
Jungkook laid beside you on the bed with his face buried in the nape of your neck. His hand still worked diligently to get you off as he whispered soft praises against the shell of your ears. You were in your very own depiction of utopia—euphoric with stimulation of endorphins.
“I’m close-close, Jungkook,” you dragged your nails down his back, likely leaving streaks of red trails behind as he quickened his pace. Meanwhile, you felt your body temperature skyrocket and the knot in the pit of your stomach tightened until it could not become any tighter and for the second time that night you felt how the storm passed and once again you floated throughout the night sky.
While Jungkook strove to read your body like the ink inscripted into the pages of his favorite book; the absence of his wandering hands made you feel empty—as if you couldn’t really breathe. At all.
“What happened, baby girl?” his lips traveled downwards on your body while his hands finally worked to unclasp your bra, (two orgasms later you couldn’t believe you still had all your undergarments on), and now your breasts became the forefront of his attack and leisurely he took each nipple in between his teeth smirking at your gasps and shudders as a result of your sensitivity, “are you the one who can’t stand the rule of not touching today?”
“Ah—,” he lightly bit the side of your left breast before kissing it better, “the only thing I hate right now is that your dick isn’t in me right now.”
He laughed; the booming sounds struck just like the raucous cries of thunder just outside your windows, “what makes you think I’m gonna fuck you tonight?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I can feel how hard you are against my leg.”
“What? This?” Jungkook sat-up on the bed working to remove his boxers. When he finally did he discarded them to the pool of clothes somewhere on your bedroom floor while his cock sat before you like it had been a few days prior. Jungkook laid back down in front of you, placed a tender kiss on your forehead before he moved closer towards you, lifting your leg up and allowing it to rest on his hip. Once positioned he began rubbing the head of his cock against your clothed slit —especially focusing on the sensitive bud.
He traced the lines of your lips over and over until you couldn’t take it any longer and tears began filling your eyes and you chanted hastely begging him to fuck you right into the mattress.
“Please, Jungkook,” a needy whimpered rolled off your tongue, “please fuck me, please fuck me please.”
Jungkook was now on top of you and he reached down, moving your soaked panties to the side before he lined himself at your entrance. You closed your eyes anticipating that moment when his cock would slip in and stretch you out so good you’d feel full beyond relief. And just as you imagined he slowly pushed himself past your entrance, your mouth fell agape at the sensation of his cock invading you inch by inch.
The feeling was immeasurable and better than anything you’d ever felt before.
“Will you be okay if I move?” he asked almost out of breath.
You nodded frantically.
“Just let me know if you wanna stop at any point, okay?” he remained still.
You nodded once again.
Jungkook moved cautiously, setting a lento rhythm—almost as if he thought you’d break if he fucked into you too hard. His tattooed hand brushed your heated cheeks as he continued his agonizingly slow thrusts. The room was still silent for the most part except now in company to the pitter-patter of the pouring rain the two of you contributed your very own duet composed of his guttural groans mixed and your shaky pants.
His lips left sweet kisses behind on both of your cheeks, then your nose, your chin and lastly your forehead.
She looks so fucking beautiful like this; all sweaty and aroused just for me. Fucked out just for me. I’m so lucky. So lucky.
“Jungkook?” you tucked your bottom lip under your top row of teeth.
“Yes?”
“Deeper, please,” you whined, “not faster but harder. I want to feel you deep in me.”
Deeper? Fuck. She’s gonna be the death of me. I swear she is. I’ll fuck you just how you’d like baby girl. I’ll fuck you right.
“Okay—okay,” he stammered.
Jungkook stopped his movements and pulled out momentarily as he adjusted his position in between your legs. He grabbed both of them and wrapped them around his waist before pushing past your entrance once again, and yes, it felt just as jaw dropping as the first time. Jungkook’s pace remained lento except now whenever he was about to push back into you he made sure to lunge himself deeper causing the sounds of his skin slapping against yours to echo within the walls of your room.
“Oh, Jungkoook,” you let out a drawn-out moan, chanting his name repeatedly, “right-right there, oh, Jungkooook. Right there. Please don’t stop.”
He continued penetrating you just as you wanted until once again, for the third time that night, you were on the very edge of the planet. You could see the exact place where the sky met the earth. Trotting towards the phenom you felt the way your heartbeat quickened and finally as you approached you began clenching around him until you witnessed an explosion of stars behind your eyes; a feeling so blissful your knuckles turned white as you clutched the sheets underneath you in your grasp.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. .” he hissed pulling out quickly.
“What’s wrong?” you gasp at the feeling of emptiness now substituted by a ravenous void.
“I almost finished inside of you and we forgot to wear a condom,” his cock was held tightly in his hand.
You swiped your tongue on your lips, “would you like some help with that?”
“That is not how today is supposed to go,” he mocked.
“Fine,” you shrug, “but I was going to offer my body as an alternative.” Jungkook’s pupils become dilated, your words obviously peeking his interest, “come on my face, Jungkook.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Jungkook towered over you on the bed, kneeling right beside you on the bed—by now you were spent, too tired to do anything but lay there and admire the way his head hung back as he worked to find his release. The design of his tattoos followed suit beginning all the way from his shoulder blade, to his flexed and veiny bicep all the way down to the tight clasp of his finger around his shaft moving hastily from base to tip.
“Look at you, baby girl. All eager for me to come on you,” Jungkook said through clenched teeth, “you’re so naughty for me. All for me.”
“All for you, Jungkook,” you repeated, “I can’t wait to feel just how warm you’ll be on my face. Come on, baby. ”
Your mantra of praises rolled off your tongue semi-automatically but you were needy to feel his seed on you so you continued using your words to aid him in the process of jerking off. He continued moving his hand up and down his length until the tip became painted white with drops of pre-come.
“I’m almost—” he cried out; his guttural whimpers sent waves of glacial shivers interlacing with the ridges of your spine.
“Yes, Jungkook. Be a good boy.”
“I am a good boy,” his labored breathing came out in puffs, “I am. .”
“Then, come on baby. I’m waiting.”
Jungkook was immersed in what you knew was likely the build-up of his approaching release. His chest inflated and deflated rapidly, while the muscles in his stomach tightened accentuating his already sculpted physique while his cheeks turned a bright scarlet.
“I’m coming!” He cried out.
The spurts of his white semen painted your face as he worked himself to the very last drop. Even in his moment of release Jungkook was careful enough to aim towards your mouth and chin and you licked everything within reach of your tongue.
“Let me get a wet rag and I’ll clean you up okay?” Jungkook stood from the bed and placed a kiss on your forehead before walking towards your bedroom door and opening it up.
A few seconds went by and suddenly you heard a loud shriek and a plethora of muffled words which sounded a lot like your best friend, Hoseok. Not a lot of time went by before you saw Jungkook enter the room frantically before slamming the door shut and leaning against the wooden surface.
“Hoseok’s home?” you laughed.
“And Jimin.”
“And they saw?”
“Mhm.”
“Please remind me to never leave this room naked again.”
“Yes! Please remind him!” Hoseok yelled from just outside the door.
A bursting titter erupted between the two of you and Jungkook climbed back into bed with you before he helped you wipe off the mess he’d made on your body, then laid down beside you.
“Can I ask you something?” You began snuggling deeper into his embrace.
“Yes?.”
“Will you stay here tonight?” You asked barely above a whisper—barely audible.
Jungkook rested his chin on the crook of your neck, “of course, I’ll stay with you tonight.”
There was no place you’d rather be than embraced in the solace of Jungkook’s warmth.
Tonight, tomorrow, and forever after that.
I’ll always stay with you.
-
-
-
an: you know what im about to say right? ignore the smut scene ~if you must~ it literally took me like two weeks to write because my brain wasn’t working >.<
i literally started working on this like a week before seven released…. *gulps*
2K notes
·
View notes
The alternative
Brother's best friend changbin x reader. Fluff and slight angst. (Han is the brother).
Based on my interpretation of The Alternative by Lyn Lapid (if u can, play it after the •••)
You've diligently chased the idea of being with Changbin out of your mind. That is until he picks you up from a bad date, making your steadfast resolve unravel all around you.
skz song series masterlist
"Yn?" Changbin’s voice echoes clearly through the phone, and you startle, leaning away to check if you mistakenly dialed the wrong person. But there it is- Han's contact name illuminating your screen, confirming your intended call.
"Changbin? Where is Han?" you ask hesitantly, confused as to why your brother did not pick up his phone.
"He left his phone at home. I wasn't going to answer but I saw five missed calls from you, so I figured something might be wrong. Are you okay?" he asks, his voice softening at the last question.
His concern tugs at your heart, causing you to bite your lower lip forcefully. You've been sitting across from your date for the past two hours, and yet Changbin managed to pay more attention to you in the span of five seconds.
"I'm okay, don't worry about it," you reassure, trying your best to sound composed.
"Did you need something?"
"I just... I'm on a date right now and I wanted Han to come pick me up. But it's okay."
"Did they do something to you?" he asks, his voice carrying an edge to it that hadn't been present moments ago.
"No!" you quickly reassure. "I just... I don't know, it feels off but it's okay. I'm sorry for bothering you." The practiced apology rolls off your tongue effortlessly, without you having to think about uttering it.
You're accustomed to shrinking yourself, trying your hardest not take up space with your feelings. It has become second nature to you to bury your problems in a dusty box at the back of your mind, as soon as they threaten to affect those around you.
"Where are you?" he asks as you hear shuffling from his end, "I'm coming to pick you up."
"You don't have to," you murmur, regret already welling up inside you. You should've stopped calling your brother when he didn't pick up the first time.
"You are uncomfortable. That's reason enough for me."
You attempt to contradict him, but the words dissolve in your mouth, swallowed back down your throat. There's something about Changbin's unwavering voice that makes you pause. You don't have the strength to contradict him.
"Okay, thank you," you exhale a ragged breath in relief. "I'll text you the address."
You hang up, leaving the bathroom you were hiding in and sitting in front of your date once again. They resume talking, but you tune them out, your thoughts solely revolving around Changbin- the way the planets rotate unwaveringly around the sun. His concern made a pleasing warmth seep through your heart, like a sun ray piercing through clouds after a gloomy day.
You dig your fingers into your palm, desperately trying to banish thoughts of him- just as you’ve been doing for the past few months.
You met Changbin before you knew he was your brother’s best friend. In the campus café, where he almost spilled his drink on you. You thought he was adorable, apologizing profusely to you, a faint pink hue tinting his cheeks. And then he bought you a cookie, three to be exact, because he didn’t know which flavor you’d prefer. A token of his remorse as he explained to you. He was a year older, and you found talking to him as natural as being with yourself.
But for some reason, your brain didn’t register that this was the Changbin your brother told you about. Until you’ve visited Han’s dorm for the first time and there he was, opening the door for you. Changbin was never yours to begin with, a reminder you continually admonish yourself with, but you still felt as if you lost him that day.
You knew it wouldn't be wrong, per se, to date him. But the potential confrontations that would unfold from it made you recoil into your hiding. Loving Changbin holds within it numerous uncertainties, and you cannot venture into the unknown, regardless of how much you yearn for it. For him.
“Yn!” a loud voice startles you, and you snap your head towards the entrance of the restaurant where you find Changbin. He’s clad in grey sweatpants and a snug black t-shirt, standing out like a sore thumb in the high-end restaurant. He didn't take the time to change, you realize, his sole focus on reaching you as quickly as possible.
"We have to go!" he says, as soon as he's in front of your table, and your date glances at you curiously.
"You do?" they ask and you chuckle nervously. "We do?" You didn’t think of an excuse as to why you needed to leave so suddenly, and you hoped Changbin did.
"Yes, come on," he urges, outstretching his hand toward you. "There is an emergency… You know, with Han, very urgent."
"Who's this? And who's Han?"
"I already told you who Han is," you roll your eyes, grabbing Changbin’s hand and rising from your seat. "Maybe if you stopped talking about yourself for a second then you'd remember."
Changbin places a couple of bills on the table, a polite smile on his face. "For the dinner", he says, before pulling you outside with him.
"What was that?" you chuckle as soon as you're out. Changbin doesn't let go of your hand as you walk to his car, and you can't find it in you to drop it.
"What?" he giggles, "did you not like my acting skills?"
"Did you have to shout my name from across the restaurant?" you playfully punch his shoulder and he feigns a wince.
"I had to be convincing," he nods solemnly, opening the door for you. His hand rests on the top of the car, ensuring you don't bump your head while getting in.
"Here," Changbin hands you a pair of slippers from the backseat, and you furrow your brows in confusion. "I assumed you'd be wearing heels and your feet are probably tired, so I brought you this," he explains, and you are suddenly thankful for the dim lighting in the car that's hiding your crimson blush.
"So, tell me, what did they do? Do I need to beat them up?" Changbin asks once more and you groan, leaning your head against the car window.
"They're so... pretentious. The only thing they care about is themselves, their career and their achievements. They even tried to downplay mine so they'd feel better about themselves."
"It's their loss honestly, for wasting a date with someone like you."
"You're the only one who thinks so," you smile sadly, trailing your fingers across your knee.
"What do you mean?" he asks, turning his body around to give you his undivided attention.
"This is my fourth bad date in a row. I think I'm just destined for horrible relationships," you try to joke, but it did weigh heavily on you. Was there something wrong in you that prompted everyone to treat you so lowly?
"You are very smart and witty and interesting. I like talking to you, especially about things you are passionate about. It's their loss for not seeing it. Doesn't mean you are any less incredible," he says, his voice filled with genuine conviction.
A surge of emotion pulses through you, your heart beating wildly in your chest like a bird fluttering its wing to break free from its cage. You've always thought Changbin was all these things as well, but you never knew he held you with the same regard.
"Thank you," you beam at him, "for this and for coming to pick me up."
"Don’t mention it," he responds with a warm smile before sudden mischief dances in his eyes. "You know what? We should go on a date right now."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"A fake date," he clarifies and your heart chips a little more at your foolish hope. "So you'd see how well you deserve to be treated."
"You don't have to do that," you shake your head. 'You shouldn't do that', you wanted to add, 'it’s hard enough to forget about you'.
"I want to," he insists, his assurance evident in his smile. He leans in, reaching over to buckle your seatbelt, bringing his face mere inches from yours. His cologne envelops you, trapping you in a web carefully woven by him. It was unfair- for him to smell this nice and not be yours.
"You look pretty," he compliments, his penetrating gaze locked with yours as the seatbelt finally clicks into place.
"Is this how you start all your dates," you chuckle, in an attempt to calm your racing heart.
"No, I'm just saying the truth," he replies simply, starting the car and resting his hand on the back of your headrest.
"So, what are you craving?" he asks, and you sigh in defeat.
"Can we have fried chicken?"
"Of course, we can," he replies with a smile, shifting the car into reverse and leaving the parking lot.
•••••••••••
You hoped your time with Changbin would be horrible, you wished you’d feel bored or uncomfortable, just so it’d cement the idea that he wasn’t the one for you. But unsurprisingly, you had an amazing time. Your stomach ached from laughing so hard throughout the night, and there was a new found lightness in your steps as you walked around a picturesque garden.
You knew that you will revisit this night countless times, that you’d sift through every detail- every time your eyes met and every time you made him smile. That it’d keep you warm on cold nights when you’re all alone.
"Here," Changbin says, handing you a plucked rose. "You deserve a bouquet but I didn’t plan on this, I’m sorry," he smiles sheepishly and you giggle, taking it out of his hands.
"Thank you," you grin happily, before taking a step forward toward him. There, you tuck the rose behind his ear, smoothing down his hair in the process.
"I’m blushing, aren’t I?" he chuckles, bringing a hand to his flushed cheeks and you gleefully nod.
"You’re matching the rose," you point out and he shrugs happily. "Pink is my color."
You admired how Changbin didn’t shy away from his emotions, embracing them without reservation. It made you feel secure, in the sense where you’d never have to second guess his words and their truthfulness.
Changbin takes out his phone to play a soft melody, before putting it in his back pocket.
"Let's dance."
"Changbin..." you trail off. It feels bittersweet to get a taste of what you could have, of what you two could be. He'll move on, surely, going on real dates while you'd still be stuck on the way he makes you feel.
"It's part of the date package, come on."
You sigh, before grabbing his hand in yours. They fit so naturally together, and you think you can easily commit the sensation to memory- the coldness of his palm and the callouses on his finger pads. With a few more holds, you're certain you could recognize his touch among a thousand others.
Changbin raises your free hand and places it on his shoulder, before holding your waist gently, swaying you from left to right.
Being with him felt like pressing on a blueish bruise, a pleasurable pain you would willingly endure to have him by your side. You're already in his arms, you told yourself. Maybe you should tune out the thoughts in your head berating you, and finally follow what your heart wants.
You suck in a deep breath, before tentatively leaning your head on his chest. He immediately brings his hand to your hair, smoothing it down gently. His chest is broad, serving as a shield for the delicate emotions flowing within him. Because Changbin is gentle with everything he does and everyone he meets. And you'd settle for this, for being his fake date if it meant experiencing his gentleness for the rest of your life.
"Can I tell you something?" you say after a while.
"Sure."
"I think this is the nicest date I've ever been on. I wish all of them were like this."
"They could be if you want to."
"What do you mean?"
"I've always liked you, yn. From the moment I’ve met you,” he confesses easily, and his words feel like the hands of an expert violinist, tugging at your vulnerable heartstrings.
He likes you, you aren't alone in this feeling, and for a second, raw happiness courses through you at this thought. But it's fleeting, like the sugar rush you'd get when you eat too much sweets. And so it naturally wears off, as the consequences of his words dawn on you.
"Changbin, we shouldn't," you shake your head vehemently and he frowns. "Why?"
"Because you're my brother's best friend." The excuse streams from your mouth instantly.
"But I'm still Changbin. Your Changbin if you'll have me," he adds softly.
"Han will find it weird, and if we don't work out then your friendship with him will become strained and-"
"Why are you thinking about everyone but yourself?" He interrupts. "Don’t you want this?"
A few silent beats pass by, and Changbin doesn't stop swaying you around, his gentle place lulling your heart to calmness, clearing the foggy thoughts in your mind.
"I do," you finally admit, and a smile lightens up his face instantly. It's so bright that it makes you second-guess the words you're about to say. "But I don't want to risk our friendship too."
"Love is a risk, I understand, I agree. But what's the alternative, yn? if it's not having you at all then I'd risk it," he drops your waist, his hands cradling your face tenderly. "You are worth the risk to me."
You’ve stopped dancing, the music long forgotten by you. "You really think so?"
"I know so."
"What if we things don't workout?"
"What if they do, hm? we can never really know until we try. And i want to try with you. Please, give us a chance?" he smiles at you, his vulnerability on full display. He's offering you his heart on a silver platter, not caring if you'll safely guard it or pierce it through, as long as it's yours.
You gaze into his warm brown eyes, before glancing at his tousled hair and the rose tucked behind his ear. And your fear doesn't matter anymore, not in the face of the man in front of you.
"You have amazing convincing skills. Have you ever considered being a diplomat?" you tease and his eyes widen slightly. "Is this a yes? are you saying yes?"
"I am," you giggle, an uncontrollable smile drawn on your lips. "And... I've always liked you too. I think Han might've suspected it because whenever I brought you up, he glared at me," you confess with a laugh, as Changbin presses a soft kiss on your wrist. Right where your pulse is. Beating wildly for him.
"He’ll have to deal with it. Now tell me, is tomorrow at 6 pm good for you?"
"What for?" you giggle, as he waltzes you around once more, a cheeky smile adorning his face.
"Our first real date, of course.”
2K notes
·
View notes
lock it when you leave
▹ — joel miller x platonic!f!reader + tommy miller x platonic!f!reader
▹ — summary: part three of if the door wasn’t shut — tensions rise in jackson, leaving you scrambling to find your place.
▹ — a/n: guys i’m not all that happy with this part!!! it feels kinda … filler-y. but we are getting somewhere!!! i have ideas for part 4 :’) let me know what you guys think!! (if you guys wanna be tagged in future parts let me know)
▹ — warnings: angst, guns, fire, murder, there’s a baby in this one, blood, arguments, infected + raiders, father figure miller bros
▹ — tags: @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @pedropascalsrealgf @faceache111 @livvy256 @dizzyforyou @hiphopdancer101universe @aphrcdites @axionn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @coolchick333 @hufflepuffriver @kobenio @dorothleah @moonygremlin @tomorrowseverything @martinsmomo @teenagetragediesforeveryone @dksjskx @inkiqayo @fariylixie0915 @jbcalway @ipadkidsworld @coldwcter @rhyanna6012 @gimalo135 @kimpineeeeeeee @jerseygirllll @dreamerglassesgirl @g0bble @firsttimewriter92 @coldheartedmar @cheneyq @dilfsaremyfavourite @sakurarukas @brilliantopposite187 @ilovemydinoboi @chiogarza @lockleywife @famoussuitcasepiebagel-blog @doctorliamsr @dustyroper28 @daffodil0darling @marchstrilogy @cappucinolia @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr @slut4timotheechalamet
masterlist | PART ONE | PART TWO
howl’s song association!
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Four months ago, when the wound was still fresh, you never would’ve thought that you’d be here. Stood comfortably in the Miller’s home, stirring food over the stove as Tommy and Maria fussed over the newborn of the household in their living room.
In fact, you would’ve bet against this exact scenario, certain that you’d never let yourself get close to another Miller ever again. It was the only logical thing for you to do — after all, that wound had been angry and sore, the blood still wet.
You wouldn’t say it had healed, not even close, really. It still throbbed, white hot to the touch, especially when you thought of Joel and Ellie, but you were managing. Coping. It helped, having Tommy and Maria around, far more than you had ever expected. They were kind, softened from years of sanctuary, and you hated to admit it, but you cared about them.
The feeling had snuck up on you, which was ridiculous, considering that was exactly how it had happened before. Though, perhaps you had been less apprehensive the first time around, considering the way you flinched away from their care in the beginning. You should’ve expected it, should’ve fought against it with everything in you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
This was the reminder of just how human you were. Despite all the pain, the suffering and anger and scars against your skin, you craved connection. You wanted people to care about you, wanted your life to have meaning, even though it seemed to only end in your own heartbreak.
You just hoped this would be different.
A childish thing, to hope, in a world like this one, but that’s what you were, right? You were allowed to be childish, to let that hope build back up until it was inevitably knocked down, reduced to rubble. People seemed to appear from the strangest of places, coming to help you scavenge through the debris for something to rebuild the foundations with.
That’s what Tommy and Maria had been to you — fitting, really, considering what Tommy had done in the time before cordyceps. They had spent time with you, helping you build up that hope for something better, something kinder.
You hated to do it, hated to lean back into relationships, but you trusted the two of them more than you were willing to admit to anyone — even to yourself. With their own child now in the world, you just hoped that you wouldn’t get in the way.
Maria’s drawn out sigh shook you from such thoughts, and you raised an eyebrow at her where she stood beside you, her back resting against the kitchen counter. “What’s up with you?” You ask her, turning your gaze from her slight smirk back to the food, where you started to fish on to plates. It was a good job she’d caught your attention — much longer and the three of you would’ve been eating charred scraps.
“Oh, nothing.” She responded, and looked sharply to you when you scoffed a slight laugh. “What?” She asked, grinning.
“That was the biggest sigh I’ve ever heard, and I’ve known Joel for about as long as I can remember.” You told her, almost absentmindedly, not thinking too much on the joking comment until after you’d already spoken it.
Maria’s smile got small, and she took over the garnishing part of dishing out dinner, the part that you still didn’t understand. Why put it on there if it didn’t need to be? And when Tommy was definitely going to pick it off?
“Don’t judge me,” Maria told you, saying your name in what was almost a scolding voice, “Tommy’s just putting the baby to bed, he’ll be in in one sec.” She said, after you had moved to pick up his plate, too. You raised a hand, grabbing her plate and leaving her to bring the cutlery, rolling your eyes when she scolded you.
“Calm down, Maria, it’s only been a week. Let me help.” You said to her, when she continued to lecture you on just how capable she was, despite the way she held onto the walls and doorframes with one hand as she walked, the other holding onto her now slightly flatter stomach.
“She giving you a tough time?” Tommy asked, having settled the baby, and hearing Maria’s rants.
“Isn’t she always?” The two of you shared an amused look when Maria immediately jumped on the defence, only relenting with a roll of her eyes when Tommy leant down to press a kiss to the top of her head.
“Hey, don’t forget who just got you all your new clay, kid!” Maria told you, as Tommy left to grab his own plate from the kitchen, and grinned when your shoulders sagged in defeat. “How’re the mugs coming?”
You shrugged idly, scraping food onto your fork.
“You talked my ear off about those damn mugs, and now you’re quiet?” Tommy questioned as he dropped down with a huff on the couch, stretching back slightly.
“That was just to annoy you.” You told him, fighting a grin when he sat up with something close to an incredulous expression on his face. You wouldn’t lie, though, it warmed your chest slightly that Maria was asking about such things when you knew how exhausted she was. Painfully, you realised that she reminded you more and more of Tess. “They’re… good. Kinda. Improving.” You said to Maria after a brief pause, before shoving your food into your mouth.
“Well, we could do with some more. Only got the two, and you’ll need one. Plus some for guests.” Maria said between bites of food, ignoring the look Tommy shot at her for the guests comment. You weren’t stupid — you knew that she was talking about Joel and Ellie. They didn’t really have other guests, after all. Any other socialising was done in town, even town-related meetings, usually going down early in the morning in the hall.
“I’ll see what I can do.” You responded, feeling something shiver down your spine bitterly as you thought of Joel and Ellie coming here.
Usually, you pretended they didn’t. You liked to think that Tommy and Maria’s house was untouchable, impervious to anyone who wasn’t you, them, or their new baby. You saw the remnants of their other guests, of course, like when you’d come in the morning, and there would be four plates in the sink. Or when Ellie’s coat still rested on the coat hooks. But the couple’s presence felt comforting, and you weren’t willing to give it up. Not right now, at least.
You refused to let Joel take anything else away from you. He didn’t have the right — he never did. It wasn’t like he was your father! Joel had made that much clear from the start, back when it had just been you, him and Tess.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
“She doesn’t have anyone, Joel, what else was I meant to do?” Tess asked, her words biting as she yelled them toward her partner.
“The last thing we need is a kid to take care of. Send her to FEDRA.” Joel responded, his voice loud, but not quite a shout. He was trying to be the voice of reason here, not the asshole. Looking after some child they didn’t ask for, it could only end badly.
What if somebody came looking for you? Somebody with a vengeance? What if you turned out to be some asshole kid who killed them both? What if they couldn’t get the rations to feed you? What if—
“What? So she can get shot in the street in a few years? Joel, she should get a choice.” Tess bargained, unsure herself as to why she felt the need to defend you so much.
She knew Joel was right — knew that it wasn’t practical or realistic to keep you in their shitty apartment, but some part of her just knew. You needed the two of them, and in the middle of the apocalypse, was it really too difficult to do one good thing? Tess wasn’t saying it to be a hero — but god knows that too many kids had died already. She wasn’t trying to give Joel somebody else to look after, she was just trying to help.
Tess wanted to be able to look you in the face, and tell you that this was your chance. They didn’t turn up often in the apocalypse, and she wanted to urge you to take it. Was that too much to offer? Just an opportunity to live a bit longer, to survive in a world that strived for your death?
“Tess…” Joel sighed heavily, turning his head to look where you were sat back against their couch cushions, knees drawn to your chest as you ducked your head, clearly pretending that you hadn’t been listening the whole time. “Okay, fine. Let the kid stay.”
Tess nodded at him, the two of them moving apart as she headed towards where you were sat, something heavy and daunting resting on her shoulders as she looked at you, foolishly hoping she wouldn’t live to regret this.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Things were getting tense in Jackson.
You knew that things had been growing restless for a while, but it had gotten worse, somehow beginning to feel tangible in the very air you breathed.
Two separate raiding attacks had come in the past three weeks, which was definitely cause for concern. The first hadn’t gotten far enough to reach you where you had slept in your shop, and it was only the morning after as the dead were buried that you found out it happened.
The second was not so easy — waking you up in the middle of the night, which was an easy task, considering how light your sleep had become at the reminder that the walls around Jackson weren’t impenetrable. You woke up to the sounds of yelling, the roaring of flames, which sounded far too close to comfort. It was only when you rushed outside of your shop, clay carving tool clutched in your hand, that you knew for certain it was raiders.
They’d gotten deep into the town, which was a shock to the system, making it feel like cold water was running down your back. People were running on the street, gunfire sounding from further out, by the wall. The raiders seemed to be multiplying, but you knew they couldn’t be more than a party of twenty. No way would any of the guards miss a group bigger than that, right?
“Get back inside!” One of them yelled towards you, a rifle sitting stiffly in his hand, and a helmet resting on his head. He didn’t have a very commanding voice. You stayed where you were, frozen.
He approached, fingers tightening on his gun, and you could’ve sworn that your heart was beating so fast in might explode. The blood was rushing in your ears, and you felt sick for a moment, before the cold wash of reality came over you, in the form of the raider yelling so harshly in your face that you could smell his breath.
You blinked harshly at him, and swallowed down the bile in your throat as he moved to raise his gun toward your head. It felt like something had snapped in you, and you were launching yourself at him in less than a second, reminiscent of a barely-there memory back before Ellie was around.
Your clay tool hadn’t been very sharp, so it had taken force to push it into his neck when he fell down under your sudden weight. You tried not to think about the pressure you’d forced on it as you shoved his head down into the pavement when he tried to lift it in some form of defence, likely trying to smack his helmet into your face. His hands reached up, pushing you away with a burst of strength — what you hoped was the final burst of adrenaline.
Loose stones on the ground scraped up against your arm, drawing the tiniest bits of blood as you skidded across the floor where he had shoved you. When he turned his gaze to you, you bared your teeth, snatching his gun and holding it firmly away from you when he reached for it, pulling the trigger.
Glass shattered behind you, and you tugged the gun until it came away from his grasp, and he reached up, pulling the tool from where it stuck out of his neck.
The gun was firmly in your hands, aimed at him, before he could even raise the tool towards you, the sudden rush of blood from his body only rendering him weaker.
Your name had been called a second later, and you scrambled away from the raider as gunshots slowly faded out, leaving behind scared shouts and the blaze of the still-burning fire. You looked up to see Tommy, rushing towards you and tugging you up from the ground the moment he reached you.
“Shit,” He muttered, holding your arms tightly as he let his gun hang limply at his side. “Are you okay? You hurt?”
You shook your head, still grasping onto the stolen gun, and watched him sigh in something close to relief, before he turned his gaze to the shattered front of your shop.
“Come on.” Tommy urged then, nodding his head and only releasing you when you made to follow him, and he grasped onto his own gun as you began the trek to his and Maria’s home.
When you got there, Tommy shoved you inside and quickly shut the door behind him, taking the gun from your hands and resting it against the wall by the coatrack. He did the same with his own gun, a moment later.
“Maria!” You called, your voice scratchy as it left your throat. The baby was crying, you could hear it the moment you stepped inside, and you moved straight into the kitchen, finding Maria stood there, holding onto the baby and shushing, as she paced back and forth.
“Oh, thank god, you’re both okay.” She sighed out, approaching her husband and pressing a hard kiss to his lips. The worry lines on her forehead were visible, showing how stressed and anxious she truly was. “You hurt?” She asked the two of you, raising her voice to be heard over the crying baby she rocked in her arms.
“No, we’re alright.” Tommy answered, his words sounding close to relief despite the way his muscles remained tight, tense.
“Shit, Tommy,” Maria swore, looking at a gash that was trickling blood down his arm. “We gotta get you patched up. Would you mind?” She directed the last question to you, lifting her arms slightly to show off the crying baby held in them.
“Uh— sure.” You agreed, anxiously, because despite the fact it had been a few weeks since the baby was born, you had continued to keep your distance. You followed Maria into the living room, where she sat you down on the couch and placed him in your arms, as you tried to mirror the shape of her own.
He was loud, and heavier than you had expected, but you let him rest heavily in your left arm, with your right just resting gently against his side, finger running over the pyjamas he was dressed in.
“You two gonna be alright?” Tommy asked, nodding when you did, and following Maria to the upstairs bathroom, where their personal first aid kit was kept.
You rocked your arms the slightest bit, trying not to release the sigh of relief when the baby finally began to settle down, the loud sounds fading and leaving behind a tense silence over Jackson. When all the loud noises faded, you were left with a slight ring to your ears, likely from where that raider had fired his gun right beside them, aimed at your shop.
You couldn’t imagine how Maria had felt — she was a protector, and it must’ve killed her to stay behind with the baby whilst her husband left to help out the town. She was still recovering from giving birth, the event taking its toll, especially in the apocalypse, where the painkillers she’d had during her first birth weren’t available. Medical professionals were hard to come by, with only two residing in Jackson, neither specialising in things such as pregnancy or labour.
Luckily, they knew more than enough about it to give Maria the best chance at survival she could get. You don’t know how Tommy might’ve reacted if she hadn’t gotten through the birth. You didn’t want to think about it.
“Tommy? Maria?” A voice yelled, the front door banging open and causing the baby to begin his wailing once again. “Shit, sorry—” Ellie cut herself off as she entered the room, shock evident on her face when she saw you sat in there.
“They’re upstairs.” You answered stiffly, referring to her earlier yells, and you began rocking the baby boy once again, trying to settle his cries. You ran a gentle finger down his forehead, to the tip of his nose, shooting Ellie a nasty look when she just continued to stare at you.
“Joel went to find you.” She said, after a few moments, lowering her voice as you finally got the baby to begin settling, your arms tense as you tried to keep him as still as possible. You looked up at that, eyebrows creasing as you regarded her, saw the way her fingers fiddled together, pulling at the zip of her jacket.
“Why?” You questioned, confused for a moment. After all, Joel hadn’t cared much about leaving you behind when the two do them left Jackson, so why would he care about your whereabouts while you were here? “I can take care of myself.” You said, when she didn’t respond to your question, and you felt your jaw tighten when Ellie just rolled her eyes.
“Joel did what he did to take care of you. Why can’t you see that?” Ellie asked, voice hardening as she looked at you, lounged against the couch, holding Joel’s nephew in your arms, whilst he was on there searching for you.
You sat up slightly, a deep crease forming between your brows at the fire in Ellie’s words. It made somerhing uncomfortable stir in your chest, tightening and getting hotter as you looked at her expression.
“I didn’t ask him to do that. I wanted to come with you both. He took that from me, Ellie, he left me behind.” You said, feeling like you were turning in circles, beginning to feel dizzy and not getting anywhere. You strained to keep your arms somewhat relaxed, to keep your hands still where they wanted to clench into fists.
Her next words were quieter, and you struggled to hear them over the ringing still in your ears, drowning out the blazing world around you. She spoke again, her eyebrows furrowing to match your own, “You’re being unfair, you said you didn’t want to carry on!”
“I said I wanted to go home!” You said, voice raising for a moment, before you quietened your tone, only for the sake of the baby you held, who had already been disturbed enough tonight. “And in case you didn’t notice, Ellie, that was impossible. I lost everyone, don’t you get that?”
She shook her head, her cheeks going red as she grit her teeth, “Of course I fucking get that! You’re not the only one who lost people.”
“That’s not what I said!” You responded, feeling increasingly heated the longer the conversation went on, “But that trip cost me everything. So yeah, maybe I didn’t want to carry on. But I would’ve. I would’ve followed you two anywhere.”
“You got to stay here, in this actual fucking town, with actual fucking people and food and— and water!”
“People who are strangers! I was stuck here, in a town with things I don’t understand, people I don’t recognise, and the only ones I trusted left me here.” You spat back at her, wishing she could just understand what it had been like — didn’t she know how it felt to have your choice taken away from you? Why should they get to decide things for you? What happened to that control that Joel and Tess knew you valued so much?
Ellie opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and you swallowed down the anger that felt lodged in your throat, focusing on the baby who was fussing in your arms, saving his hands in the air until he caught onto one of your fingers, and held it tightly.
“Sh— There you are.” Joel’s voice came from the doorway, a heavy sigh forcing itself from his chest, and he entered the living room, his face crumpled in something like fear and relief. He opened and closed his mouth more than once, like he wanted to say something, before he finally settled on, “Tommy okay?”
“Maria’s patching him up.” You said flatly, turning your head away from where he stood beside Ellie, and keeping your gaze on the baby and where he was slowly beginning to dig his blunt nails into the skin of your finger.
Joel stared at you, his chest feeling close to hollow, and he could just remember the fear that had swallowed him whole when he saw the raider lay dead outside of the shop, the shop windows shattered against the ground. He had shoved the door open faster than he could think, his boots crunching against shattered glass loudly as he rushed to the door in the back, his heart pounding so hard he thought he might have a heart attack as his eyes scanned the ground.
When he had finally gotten the door open, a breath had left him as he realised you weren’t here, and he felt the pressure that had been pushing against his spine loosen the slightest bit, and he hurried to make his way back to Rancher Street, hoping with everything he had that you were at Tommy’s.
And now, here you were, as safe as you could possibly be, but Joel still didn’t feel relieved.
He felt dread, all consuming, and it reminded him painfully of that time, all those many months ago. Had it been a year?
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Joel’s hand had been frozen, finger hovering over the trigger of his pistol, and he felt the air in his lungs struggling to get out. It was suffocating, making his body ache as he stared at you, where you held your breath, pressed as tightly to the wall as you could get.
Your eyes had closed, and he could see the muscles in your face twitch as you tried not to flinch away. One wrong move, wrong breath, wrong sound, and you’d be dead in a second — or worse, and Joel didn’t want to think about worse.
Tess was on the floor below, the three of you slowly making your way up, clearing the building as you went, aiming to get to the fifth floor, where the supplies were meant to be. Joel knew she wouldn’t be coming up any time soon, with the way the clicking echoed all throughout the room, likely travelling down the staircase.
It was right by your face — you could feel the breath against your cheek as it gargled and clicked, looking for you, getting so close that the shards of fungus that cracked its skull into pieces were almost brushing against your hair.
He didn’t know what to do — if he aimed wrong, he could hit you, or miss entirely, and just alert it to both yours and his own presence. He could try to kill it with the axe that rested against the nearby cabinet, one that he recognised from glass boxes labelled in case of fire, in the time before.
There was a glass bottle beside his foot, and with the slowest movements he could muster, Joel crouched low to the floor, gripping it in tense fingers, and threw it as far away from you as he could get it. He held his breath as it shattered, and the clicker let out a screech in your face, whirling away just as you had to exhale the breath you’d been holding. It hobbled away, unsteady on its feet, and you picked up the axe as you moved away from the wall.
Joel ushered you out of the room, back into the stairway, and grit his teeth as the clicker turned back at the sound of your hurried footsteps. He just about had time to slam the metal door shut, putting the deadbolt at the top back up into the concrete ceiling.
You breathed a sigh of relief, cradling your shaking hand to your chest, while the other gripped onto the axe tightly, ready to swing at a moments notice.
“Skip that floor?” You asked him, in a slightly joking way, and he nodded, face set in a dangerous expression as he glared at the door that shook slightly with the Infected clawing at it from the other side. With shaky legs, you climbed up to the next floor, waiting by the door as Tess poked her head up, hurrying up the steps to the floor you had just been on.
“Everything okay?” She asked, hands out towards Joel as if he was a feral animal, and he hadn’t quite realised just how thunderous his expression had become.
He nodded to the door, hearing the muffled bangs and scraped coming from the other side, the screech of fungal outrage. Tess placed a hand on his shoulder, nodding understandingly at him.
As they ascended the stairs to meet you where you waited for them, Joel could only grit his teeth as dread built tightly into his chest, squeezing his lungs and heart as he looked at your trembling fingers. You were fine, he knew, that Infected hadn’t even managed to touch you, but Joel couldn’t help the way that dread and fear began piling upon him, weighing his chest down so much that it became hard to inhale another breath.
You held the axe up, the thing slightly too heavy for you to carry it comfortably, but you managed, gripping tightly as you waited for Tess to open the door.
Joel exhaled through his nose, swallowing down the heavy feeling that was trying to crawl up his throat, and he swore you wouldn’t get that close to danger again. He didn’t want to lose you.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
The council meeting hadn’t gone well — you could see it on Maria’s face, the moment she stepped through the door to your shop. The tense air in Jackson had only gotten worse, feeling thicker every time you walked past the old jewellery shop down the street, now reduced to charred remains.
“What happened?” You asked, slightly reluctantly. Clearly, this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation. Part of you was worried about what she was going to answer with, too. Could they disband the town?
“Well, nobody’s got answers for how twenty-four guys got past our lookouts. And conveniently, whoever was on lookout when they got past, seems to have been rubbed off of the rota.” Maria grumbled, looking just as miserable as she felt. You felt bad for her — she should’ve been at home, feeling happy about the new member of her family, not having to deal with a town crisis.
You didn’t say anything for a moment, letting Maria press her hands against the wooden table in your shop, and watching as she leant her chin against her chest, a deep sigh leaving her.
“They agreed on fixing up the wall yet?” You asked, feeling bad about doing so when Maria’s shoulders immediately dropped some more.
“No,” She muttered, frustration inking at the corners of her words, “Said somethin’ about conserving resources.”
“But… Jackson’s exposed with that massive hole in the wall.” You replied, eyebrows furrowed in your confusion.
“I know,” Maria replied, your name falling from her lips in a slightly disheartened tone. “That’s the trouble with politics. People lose their common sense. We got another meeting tomorrow, I’m gonna convince them, don’t worry. Got a patrol in two hours, though. You alright with Tommy cooking?”
You nodded at her, frowning when she sighed again, exhausted down to her very bones. With slight hesitation, you followed along behind her as she made her way back to her house to see her son and husband before patrol.
When you arrived, Tommy was holding the baby to his chest, shaking his head as he spoke to the kid in a baby voice. You suppressed a snicker.
Maria cooed, reaching out for the baby, and grinning tiredly when he was finally placed in her arms. With a sympathetic expression, Tommy pressed a kiss to the top of her head, before you caught his eye, nodding your head toward the kitchen.
“Everythin’ alright, kiddo?” Tommy questioned, eyebrows furrowed in concern as you paced the length of his kitchen, before stopping and turning to him, looking nervous.
“I’ve been thinkin’,” You started, your expression just about stopping Tommy from making a stupid joke, “I wanna start going on patrols.”
He stopped suddenly, his whole body going still, and you looked at him with nervous eyes. It wasn’t that you were nervous about going — though you were, a little bit — it was that you were nervous he would say no.
Despite everything that had happened with Joel and Ellie, the slight meltdown back at that cabin before Jackson, it wasn’t about being out there. It wasn’t the Infected that lingered behind corners that scared you, and it wasn’t raiders that made fear settle in your bones, it was Joel and Ellie.
They had been all that you had — everybody else had been lost to the world, and you had longed for a time before all that loss, for the home you had with Joel and Tess, where danger lingered, sure, but not in the same way. They could avoid danger back at Boston QZ, could hide out in their apartment and settle with doing shitty FEDRA-issued jobs for a while if things got too hot.
Out in the world, there was no sense of control, no sense of safety, no matter where you went. You didn’t want to watch Joel and Ellie die like you had with Tess. Didn’t want to close your eyes and still see it, see flames climbing up the building that held one of the only people you cared for. You weren’t sure you could’ve handled losing anybody else, but Joel had forced that upon you, in the end.
By removing you from the outside world, placing you behind walls once again, he had just made your very worst fears come true. You had lost them.
So when you asked to go on patrols, you didn’t feel very scared. After all, you knew the world as well as anybody else, maybe even better than some of the people in Jackson. You knew how to shoot, how to stay quiet, how to spot things that often went unnoticed.
Before losing Tess, you had been good. Despite a few slip-ups here and there, you had been allowed on their rare smuggling trips for a reason. You’d known how to shoot a gun before you had known how to read, and it came naturally to you.
“Absolutely not.” Tommy answered, after a moment, his expression hardening and turning to stone, and you frowned at him.
“‘M only asking you because I was hoping to take on some of Maria’s patrols. She’s exhausted, she needs sleep, and she’s got a meeting tomorrow. She doesn’t need to be goin’ on some patrol right now.” You responded, feeling the usual fondness that came with speaking to him fall away, leaving your voice cold, as your expression went flat at his refusal.
He stayed silent for a few moments, gritting his teeth in a way that was far too reminiscent of his older brother, and he sighed. “No, we’ll find somebody else. You’re just a kid.”
“I’m better than half of the guys you usually take out.” You argued, still trying to keep your voice down, to prevent Maria from coming in and halting any conversation on the topic. “I can handle myself, Tommy.”
“Can you?”
“Yes! Who do you think handled that raider?” You countered immediately, feeling the heat of your anger push against your chest.
“That was different.” Tommy tried, holding his hands out toward you, getting increasingly frustrated as you stepped away from him.
“How was it different?” You snapped, “It wasn’t different. Stop trying to protect me, I’m not some dumb kid, Tommy. You are just as bad as Joel.”
Your words struck hard, and Tommy’s face hardened immediately after you spoke, his frustration growing into something closer to anger.
“Why, because I’m trying to keep you safe? Just like Joel did? It’s not a crime to want you to be okay! You gotta stop treatin’ us like we’re doin’ something wrong for protecting you!” Tommy argued back, and your expression fell when he grouped himself in with Joel.
“That— That was different.” You said, repeating his words back to him, and feeling something nervous press against your neck, your hands wringing together as you stood in front of the Miller, who suddenly resembled his older brother too much.
Maria entered the kitchen then, holding the baby tightly to her chest, and frowning as she looked at where you and Tommy stood at opposite sides of the room.
“What’s going on?” She asked, almost hesitantly.
“Nothin’,” Tommy answered, still looking at you with hard eyes, nothing changing on his expression. You grit your teeth together, feeling frustration cling to the back of your throat. “Right?”
You scoffed, and made your way past him, going straight to the front door and pulling it open roughly. Your eyebrows were furrowed as you stepped out, ignoring Tommy calling your name as you slammed the door shut behind you.
When you hurried away, shoes scuffing against the pathways of Jackson, you ignored how you saw Joel sat on his porch, and just hoped he’d mind his own business.
Two hours later, when there was a knock at your shop door, your eyebrows had furrowed immediately.
You weren’t sure who could be visiting you — Maria should’ve been on patrol already, and Tommy should’ve been back at home, looking after his son. You didn’t get any other visitors, at least, ones that were welcome.
When you opened the door, you saw Joel standing there, looking nervous. Your expression immediately flattened, eyebrows creasing further, and he stopped you before you could even open your mouth. “Wait,” Joel almost pleaded, and seemed close to relieved when you grit your teeth, staying quiet. “Maria asked me to bring this over, said somethin’ about Tommy covering a patrol.”
He held out a box, looking far too nervous for such a simple request, though you could understand. With your eyebrows relaxing slightly, you reached forward and plucked the box from his waiting hands, tilting it to the side to look through the transparent sides of the box at its contents.
When you noticed Joel still stood, unmoving, your eyebrows began to crease once again. “Well, thanks for bringing this over.” You said stiffly, hating how part of you wanted to let go of all of your anger, to pretend nothing ever happened, to just hug him.
You reminded yourself that he did this, that you were allowed to be angry. You had every right to be. You were allowed to scream and cry and shout, to hold on to that anger, to that feeling of being left behind.
It felt like a betrayal to yourself, to still want to be around him, and it hurt even more that he still made you feel safe.
“No problem.” He said, hesitantly, like he wanted to say something else, to continue, to broach the subject of the elephant in the room, but he held himself back. You weren’t sure what was worse, what you preferred more. Him acting like a stranger, or him acting too familiar.
You were so conflicted, over everything. You felt fractured into hundreds of tiny pieces, each individually feeling something different, shouting for their own way. Parts of you wanted to cry and let him comfort you, whilst others screamed for you to yell at him some more, for you to beg and plead for him to feel that hollowness that you had felt when he’d left you. Part of you wanted answers, wanted an explanation that would be enough, that would justify it, but you knew Joel didn’t have one.
For him, he knew it had been the right decision. He felt some peace of mind, knowing you would be safe within the walls, at his brother’s side. But it still pained him, the way you had fractured away from him, and he had let you slip through his fingers. It left a kind of emptiness in him, knowing that you believed he had abandoned you. You believed he had failed you. Joel was scared that you might be right.
“Well,” He cleared his throat, shoving his now empty hands deep into his pockets, and he nodded at you, the action paining him. “I’ll, uh, head off, then.”
You nodded, watching him step back and turn to go before you closed the shop door, missing the way he turned back to say something, only to be faced with a closed door. He heard the lock turn.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
It had taken three days for Tommy to crack.
He didn’t like the silence between the two of you, it made his neck feel itchy, his heart race uncomfortably. He worried about you, more than he had even realised himself.
So when you looked at him, eyebrows raised expectantly, he couldn’t help but relent. You were stubborn, even now, and you really did remind him of Joel with that expression on your face. Tommy wondered if you knew just how many mannerisms you’d picked up from his older brother, but thought better than to mention it.
“Okay, fine.” He gritted, his gaze steely even as he watched your face light up in victory, “But—”
“But?” You echoed, incredulously.
“But you’re only going on a patrol if one of us is on it, too.” Tommy continued, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes at your interruption. When he saw your annoyance, he fixed his statement slightly, “At least to start with. We’ll get you some trainin’, on the horses and guns, then we’ll see where we are.”
You smiled, and as much as Tommy hated to let you get your way in this, he was just glad to see you smiling at him again. “Thanks, Tommy.” You said, letting him reach over and pay your shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He grumbled.
“Hey, I made you something.” You told him suddenly, face seemingly lighting up further as you thought of whatever it was. Tommy raised his eyebrows suspiciously, tapping his fingers against the wooden table in the middle of your shop. “I know how much you loved hearing about them, so.”
You held up a box, filled with five mugs, some slightly misshapen, but holding the vague shape of a regular old mug. The handles were difficult, he recalled you telling him, and he could see it reflected in your work, the handles wonky, or curved into a strange shape. He smiled nonetheless, unable to help the laugh that escaped him.
“Well, I never.” He said, amused, and picked up one of the mugs, with a sloppily painted bear on the front. “You figured out the glaze, then?”
“Kinda. Thought it was gonna be blue.” You replied, pointing at the mug with an orangey brown owl painted on. “But I like it.”
“Me too, kiddo, me too. Say, Maria’s gonna be thrilled.” Tommy grinned, putting the mug he was holding back into the box before taking it off of your hands, rolling his eyes when you cautioned him.
“Well, let me know, yeah?” You asked, despite knowing that she was going to love them no matter what they looked like, simply because you made them. You had noticed that about her. You could probably hand her a chunk of clay, which barely resembled anything other than what it was, and she’d thank you for it.
“I will do. You’re comin’ for dinner later, right?” He questioned, gripping onto the box tighter with one hand, so he could free up his other one to place his hand on the door.
“Think I’ll just eat at the hall, tonight. You guys should come, too. Maria does far too much cooking.” You suggested, shrugging his shoulders when he looked offended, as if he should cook more. “Please, do not even go in the kitchen. The baby’s too young to be subjected to the smell of your cooking.” You joked, laughing when he huffed, exiting the house while yelling about not letting you come around anymore.
You shook your head, grabbing a chunk of clay you had cut off from the slab earlier, and dumping it on the wheel.
These people would be the death of you, you were sure, as your chest warmed from the interaction.
PART FOUR
2K notes
·
View notes
eddie and reader in an argument?? basically eddie misses something that he was supposed to do for her like picking her up after work or she had this big thing she hoped eddie would show up to but he got caught up on something and its not the first time it happened? but pls make it a happy ending
aaaa some hurt/comfort me love. thank you for requesting! <3
eddie winces when you slam the door open, doorknob colliding loudly against the wall as you does so. and he's sputtering out your name and stop like a mantra. but you don't.
"sweetheart, i-..." he sighs, hands falling limp to his sides as you enter the bathroom, a hasty hand opening the faucet as you begin to wash your hands. "can you please just...look at me?"
his plea was reasonable, at least. you haven't looked at him since he picked you up from the studio. poor naive eddie had expected you jumping into his arms, except he'd been greeted by an irate stance of crossed arms and foot tapping; eyes he's been daydreaming of eschew from him and it hurts his chest that you're avoiding his sight.
the car ride was silent. and he even played your favorite songs as you made your way home. but nothing made you look at him, and he wonders if the empty streets of hawkins was more interesting than the fact that he chose to listen to your songs.
eddie's how are you? was greeted by a curt i'm fine. his how was your day? was answered with a shrug. his kiss was chastised by the contact of your cheek, and both his hands were on the steering wheel than your thigh. his heart ached, really, when you kept on scooting in your corner the closer you got from home.
you turn the faucet off, a small squeak heard. you wipe your hands on your jeans, running your slightly damp fingers through your hair before you finally look at him. the frustration is evident by the way your pupils were almost a speck to nothing, a slight flare on your nostrils. although what makes him nervous the most was by the way your jaw clenches.
"what, eddie?"
he looks nervously at your hand on the sink, then at the hand on your hip before he directly looks at your irritated face. "did i do something, baby? you- you haven't looked at me since i picked you up and you sound- well, are you mad?"
you sigh, in a way that tells you're tired. physically, emotionally, his poor mind's still figuring it out. eddie has a hand lifted to reach out to you. "i don't know, eddie. i'm- i'm just tired. let's go to bed."
"hey, hey, no," he stops you on your way out, his body blocking the doorway, hands on your arms to stop you. the courage you've gathered to look at him is torn apart when you refuse to look him in the eyes once more. "talk to me, baby, come on."
"eddie, i'm tired—"
"no. no, you said communication m-makes the relationship work. so you tell me now. we're not sleeping until you tell me what's wrong," eddie frowns, trying to gather up all his patience. "please, (y/n). come on."
you close your eyes, tightly, the wrinkles around your eyes deepening until you open them and stare at him. "you didn't show up to my artshow, eddie."
oh.
his face falls, thoughts now dawned upon the realization. eddie was late to your show, one he promised about. one you talked about for weeks and one he's been listening to nonstop from how proud he was. and he was late.
five hours late, to be exact. kept you waiting outside in the cold with nothing but a thin shirt and jeans, spent two cigarettes as your thoughts filtrated around worry. and when he showed up, he had the nerve to think that everything was okay.
eddie knew how important it was to you. the same person who you expected to show up and come support you like you'd do to his gigs, never went through the door; never clapped and cheered for you.
"sweetheart," he exhales, eyebrows scrunched into a tiny raise. eddie swallows his tears, lets it hurt his throat because he doesn't deserve to cry over his mistake. "i'm so sorry."
"no, eddie! you- you promised!" you jab a finger through his chest before you wedge your thumbnail in between your teeth, blinking rapidly. "you said you'd be there! you told me every day for the past two weeks that you'd be there. and then- and then you weren't and you just left me hanging with my expectations!"
you stab your finger at his hard chest at every word, your voice wavering, filling it with this thorns around your throat that it hurts to speak while you hold back your tears. eddie takes in the pain that your nail gives, but eventually wraps his hand around your wrists.
"i know. i know, baby, i'm sorry." eddie suspires. "i just— i got caught up with the deal. they took too long. i'm sorry, it won't happen again."
you sniffle, loudly that it echoes around the porcelain walls of the bathroom. you refuse to look at him, and glare at the red pick that hangs on his chest instead. his heart aches when your bottom lip wobbles as you say, "you know, that's not the first time you said that. and every time i hear you say it, i always wished i'd never hear it again."
i'm sorry, it won't happen again.
the same words he said when he missed your performance at the pep rally and at the championship game, when he was late to picking you up from work, when he missed your dinner date that you worked hard for. countless events, arguments ended with the same six words before you both fall asleep and pretend it didn't happen because you both fool yourselves to.
"there's this voice at the back of my head that kept on whispering to me that you might be late," you mutter. "and i didn't believe it because you promised, eddie. you promised. and i believed you because i thought that you'd never really do it again. that- that you've learned—"
his heart aches at the two tears that roll down your cheeks. and before he can stop them, there's a bijou of tears that stroll down. eddie cups your face, but you shake your head to move them away. "i learned. i learned, (y/n). i promise that i learned. it's just that—"
"it's just what, eddie?" you furrow your eyebrows. "it's just that your campaign was too long and you forgot and you couldn't disappoint them? it's just that some- some guy stopped you over and asked for weed? or you took dustin to talk to his girlfriend or helped gareth with his guitar? it's just what, eddie? hm?"
"what?" he narrows his eyes at you. "baby, don't put words into my mouth-"
"i'm not," you almost yell, wiping your palm on your forehead. "i'm listing down the same reasons you tell me whenever you weren't there."
eddie lets his reason die in his throat and takes all the pain your words stab to him. he sniffles, feeling his own tears at his waterline as he stupidly decides to wrap his arms around you. you try to push him away, but your tears render you weak — pushing at his chest was as useless as the reason he tries to calm you down with.
"i'm starting to feel like i'm not important to you anymore," you whisper exasperatedly. "it's like- like all my achievements, or-or my hardwork don't matter anymore. because you're always not there, eddie."
he doesn't let go, keeps you tight to his chest as you spend all your energy into pushing him away. but with all your vigor ripped to its seams, you give in, sinking into his chest as you limply wrap your arms around his elbows. eddie whimpers at your sobs, muffled by his shirt that now has tear stains — color darkening by your cries.
"i'm sorry," he repeats. "i'm sorry. i'm so, sorry, baby i-" i promise it won't happen again. he wants to say. but he's afraid of breaking his stupid promise; afraid of breaking your heart again.
"you can just-" you wipe your nose on his sleeve. "you can't just hug me and say i'm sorry every time you disappoint me by breaking your promise, eddie."
every time you disappoint me.
his heart breaks. but he knows he's right. disappointment's always expected in relationships, anyway. it's not like he's never been disappointed in you before.
eddie shushes you, pats your unkempt hair down as he lets a few tears drop down his cheeks and onto your hair as he kisses the top of your head.
"i promise it won't happen again," he says. "i- i love you. okay? you're important to me. i'm very fucking sorry that i wasn't always there. okay so- so from now on, i'm cancelling all those stupid deals, okay?" eddie bends down, placing his hands on your shoulders. and he fights the urge to smile when you finally look into his eyes. "i promise you that i'll be there. break up with me if i break that promise, okay?"
the corners of your lips tug down, before you surprisingly let out a short laugh as you push his hair behind his ears, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as you cup his face.
"i won't break up with you. but i'll hit you in your balls, eddie, i swear," you sniffle. "just promise me, okay?"
"i promise," he nods, taking you into his arms once more. "you're- you matter to me, okay?"
you want to believe him. really. but that's the point in this whole thing — which promise to believe is unknown. it's where the trust is built. so you nod, letting him wipe your tears away. "okay. okay okay. just. be there, okay?"
"yeah." he nods. "i'll be there. even at the fucking bathroom while you pee, i'll be there. or- or at an alternate dimension. or even when you ask me to follow you into mordor. i'll do it, baby."
you laugh, and it's the best thing he's ever heard the entire night.
reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3
13K notes
·
View notes
— ✧ isohel
i·so·hel (noun) a line on a map connecting points having the same duration of sunshine
pairing. hong joshua x reader
description. fairytales can be rather misleading, can't they? when you and your mother are ripped away from your life at the castle, you spend over a decade resenting the royalty. so naturally, when you find prince joshua at your doorstep, you’re more than eager to shut the door on him. but as your life takes twists and turns, you happen to find yourself in the arms of a man you never thought you'd have to see again.
genre. slowburn, modern royalty au, angst, fluff
tags. prince!joshua, developing relationships, slut shaming, allusions / references to greek mythology, dialogue heavy, implied se
fic playlist
w/c. 26.2k
a/n. lwk don't like the beginning but i swear it gets better🙄 thank u @cheolhub for beta reading & @jeonghantis & @gyuswhore for reading it over and helping out w this bc i think i was going insane over this story by myself >_<; ... i highly suggest listening to the song isohel by eden! it was a major inspiration for this whole story and i think it encapsulates the vibes really well c: hope u enjoy!
The sound of glass shattering isn’t foreign to your ears.
It’s common in the sweltering heat of the summer when the air is hot and sticky. Maids running around to tend to the evenings balls and parties only for the sweat to breach their fingers and suddenly their stack of fine china goes tumbling to the ground.
A bed of hyacinths sits in front of you as you bring up the hose and spray them down, watching through the tinted glass as two male helpers rush to the woman on the ground, quickly helping her clean up the shards of glass.
Turning your attention back to the plants in front of you, you turn the hose off and roll it back into the corner as you skip to the end of the greenhouse where there’s your mother’s desk space. It’s a measly little space but she hardly sits there anyways, always tending to the gardens in the courtyards, leaving the floral and herbal greenhouses under your care while she’s away.
After all, your mother is a gardener and botanist in the Hong palace, and having been a trusted employee for the past half decade since your father passed, she exudes the little privileges of getting to bring her daughter to work.
At least that’s what you think, because you’re only nine years old and naive.
She teaches you well—you’ve only been accompanying her on the weekends when you don’t have school, but you’ve already picked up on how to tell the differences between an infected plant and an unaffected one, the characteristics of a good caterpillar and the characteristics of a bad one, the exact amount you should water each species, and exactly when you should let the vapor run down.
It’s easy work, and you love it.
You love sitting at your mother’s desk and imagining what it’d be like to be her—successful and working in the castle, doing what you love instead of working some stupid nine to five. You love looking out the glass of the greenhouses every few moments when you pause reading your book. You love the rare moments when you get to lay your eyes on one of the members of the royal family walking by.
You’ve started to pick up on their characters in the small frame of time you get to see them when they pass by. The Queen has kind eyes, the King is a bit intimidating, and Prince Joshua … Prince Joshua has soft features you can’t quite read.
“He’s only a year older than you!” one of your friends from school said when you told her that you stayed at the castle during the weekends to help your mother. “You should marry him and become princess!”
You had to push her away and watch her disappointed eyes when you told her that you hardly get to see him for more than ten seconds, even on the rare occasions that he crosses your vision.
The sound of glass shattering isn’t foreign to your ears, but hearing it more than twice in one hour does have some alarms ringing in your head. When you glance back up at the window, time stops.
Your mother is on the ground. Limbs sprawled out with eyes wide in horror, she scrambles against the rough stone path as a man looms over her. He dons a deep purple robe—the kind that belongs to the advisors of the Court—and your young mind races through the possibilities of what warrants the disgusted look on his face.
“Sneaking around with royal blood. Who do you think you are?”
A man watches, dark and brooding from the corner, and then you recognize him. Advisor Lee. He stops by the greenhouses sometimes—a high advisor of the Counsel and distance relative of the King’s. You’re nine years old and naive, but you are not dense.
Something had happened between your mother and Advisor Lee. Something tells you it’s more than you can understand, but in this moment, you feel you understand perfectly.
“You whore,” the man in the dark robes spits out, punctuating his disgust with a stomp of his feet right by your mother’s leg.
You’re only nine years old, but that is old enough to know that that is not a nice word. Nine years old, and you know that that means a very bad thing. Nine years old and when you look at your mother’s grief stricken face, you are certain that everything is about to change.
Your house was always on the edge of the town. Before the affair between Advisor Lee and your mother, it was because she liked having the space to open a garden in your backyard. The city is crowded and full of bustling roads and buildings—it’s no fit for the small cottage that she wanted.
Now, after the affair, your house is on the edge of the town for a different reason.
The first day after your mother is fired from her position at the castle, you go to school with your head hanging low. It’s in the city, and for the first time in your five years of schooling, your mother tells you to go alone.
“I can’t—I shouldn’t drive you anymore,” she tells you as you pack your backpack. She walks you to the bus station and hands you a paper telling you which stop to get off at and how to walk to school from there.
You’re not sure what you’re expecting when you two walk up to the little stop by the street, but when you approach the small crowd of people waiting for the next bus to come in, their chatter hushes. Sparing glances at you and your mother, they whisper—some hushed, some blatant, some sad, some angry.
That’s where she stops and puts a heavy hand on your shoulder. “You can take it from here, yeah?” she asks, but you know it’s not really a question. Nodding, you slowly walk towards the crowd of people as the next bus parks in front of the stop.
You don’t turn around and look at your mother because you know that’d be a mistake. Instead, you let your neck droop, following the quiet crowd as they pile into the bus, clutching the strings of your backpack.
There aren’t any places to sit, so you reach for a pole but suddenly the bus starts and you lurch forward, falling to the ground. There’s black and brown dust on the palms of your hand as you push yourself up, no one saying a word or bothering to help as you keep your head down and grip onto a pole.
The knees of your stockings are dirtied, and it’s the only thing you look at the whole ride, it’s the only thing you look at when you silently take the walk to school, and it’s the only thing you look at when you make your way onto campus.
It’s the whispers again, and as you quietly sink into your normal seat, you hear them louder.
Did you hear about her mother? She isn’t allowed in the castle grounds anymore. What did her mother do? I can’t believe she showed up, I’d be crying at home. I wonder what she’s thinking—
Nothing. You think nothing when your teacher announces that class will be starting. All you focus on is the board and your notebook. You spend your recess and lunch at the school’s library, and as soon as the final bell rings, you scurry off campus and towards the bus station.
It isn’t like the morning—people don’t hush and stare, but nine years old is smart enough to know that it’s because they don’t know you’re your mother’s daughter. There aren’t any empty seats just like the morning but this time, a nice gentleman offers you his spot.
You can tell he isn’t so sure of his decision though, when you finally get off at your stop and you run off to your mother who’s waiting for you by the bench. From the corner of your vision, you watch the man through the bus window, jaw tight and gaze cold as he watches you slip your hand into your mother’s.
Your mother doesn’t talk on the short walk home. She doesn’t ask you about school and she doesn’t ask you about what the other kids said. You figure that she doesn’t need to hear it anyways, and so you purse your lips together.
You have a lot to get used to.
Your life doesn’t change much, and you get used to it.
School days are spent with your head buried in a new book with every break you have. Your time at home is nothing but studying and your mother teaching you how to tend to the garden in your yard.
Soon you are graduating and moving on with your life as you make the transition to college, although you can’t say much changes. You study, you read, and occasionally you commission a project. It’s usually just renovating a citizen’s yard, sometimes it’s designing a public garden, but it’s never anything too serious.
Right now, you’re perched on a wooden stool, elbows leaning on the counter as you swipe your thumb over your tongue to flip the next page of your book. The paper is worn through, soft under your touch as a show for all it’s been through—bought second hand from your boss.
Your boss is a kind old man who happened to be a friend of your late grandfather’s, and when his little bookstore was teetering on the edge of being forgotten, you couldn’t refuse the offer to step in to work.
You’re around halfway through the book when you hear the familiar ringing of the bell above the door, head snapping up only to see your boss at the front door with a few envelopes in one hand, a plastic bag in the other.
“Holding up the fort, I see,” he greets with a low chuckle as you stand up and walk over, taking the bag from his hand to help out.
“As always, Mr. Min,” you reply, setting the bag of books down on the counter. “Are these—”
“They’re your mothers. I was walking by your house this morning and she asked me to take these and add them to our stock, since she said she doesn’t need them anymore.”
“Huh,” you say softly, taking out the various books about plants. “Not sure how big the market for gardening books is anymore, but I’m sure I can add it to our catalog after hours today,” you mutter, setting them on the table behind the register as he places the letters in his hand.
“Your mother also told me to give you this,” he says, his tone an octave lower as he plucks out one the envelopes and hands it to you. You knit your eyebrows together, wiping your dusty hands down on your pants before taking a look at it. “It’s from—”
“The castle,” you whisper, holding the envelope closer to your face to make sure you’re seeing it correctly. “Oh my god—it’s from the castle.”
“Yeah. Must be important if your mom felt the need to send it through me instead of just waiting for you to come home and take a look at it.”
“A-are you sure this is meant for me?” you manage to ask, flipping the envelope over a few times to make sure you read your name correctly.
“Yup,” Mr. Min replies, pointing down at where the intended recipient is listed. Sure enough, it’s your name listed in dark and bold ink in one corner, and then there’s that stupid royal emblem of the sun in the other corner.
Your heart sinks to your stomach at the possibilities of what could be inside, raking your mind for an answer. Was something wrong? Was it about your mother? Or was this just some big mistake?
Dear Madam,
The Hong Royal Counsel wishes to find you well, as we present a request.
Your reputation with your mother’s work as well as the operation of your own gardens throughout the city, along with your academic achievements at our very own Hong University have reached our ears, and we believe you possess the skills required for a special project we have in mind.
You will have the opportunity to lead this project as you please and earn a notable financial sum in payment for your efforts.
Please indicate your acceptance by replying to this letter at your earliest convenience. We eagerly await your response and sincerely hope that you will be able to grace our kingdom with your talent and presence.
Thank you,
Hong Royal Counsel
You don’t have to read the letter more than once before you scoff, tossing the crisp paper and letting it drift down onto the counter before muttering under your breath, “Who do they think they are?” Crumpling the envelope and letter up, you throw it down into the trash can by your chair.
Knocks on your door aren’t normal. The delivery and mailmen know better than to do that, leaving your packages and mail by the doorstep and doing no more than that.
Knocks on your door usually mean Mr. Min is here for something—picking up some of the veggies your mother grew because the store prices are too high, dropping off a book, or indulging in some pleasantries and casual small talk.
It’s eight in the morning when you hear the soft rapping against your front door. Your mom is in the kitchen and your room, right next to the foyer, has walls thin enough to let the sounds through. You’re on your bed though, and it’s comfortable, warm, and it’s too early to be out and about anyways. You’ve just spent the past nine months laboring away at college, so you’re granting yourself these few moments of peace in the morning.
Pressing your head into the pillow, you try to drown out the noise of your mother conversing with Mr. Min this early in the morning. After you hear the door open, there’s a silence and for a moment, you think you’ve succeeded in plugging your ears well enough.
You’re about to smile to yourself and drift back into a heavy sleep before you hear a loud gasp.
It takes a lot to surprise your mother—you’ve come to learn that in recent years. It takes a lot to stun her, to have her gasp as you just heard. Scurrying out of bed, you press your ear against the wall in hopes to catch a glimpse of what’s going on.
All you hear is silence.
It hardly takes a second for you to shove off your blankets and throw yourself into the hallway, rushing towards the foyer where you see your mother standing in front of the open door. She stays unmoving and you wince for a few moments, eyes still adjusting to the morning light as you make your way closer to the door to see what exactly has her so shocked.
And then you catch it: a glint of that wretched, golden sun emblem stitched onto a purple velvet coat.
“What the f—”
Your mother’s hand flies up and grabs your wrist tightly. It’s the first time you see her move, and as she turns around to face you with dark, warning eyes, you press your lips shut as you glance over her shoulder. In front of your doorstep is a man you never thought you’d get to see in person again, not after that day.
Prince Joshua is just as handsome as the tabloids and social media make him out to be, and his presence in your life also seems to be equally infuriating.
“What is he doing here?” you hiss, pulling your mother closer to you so she’s close enough to hear you.
Her eyes are somber, and you silently wonder how she can be so calm, so docile, so—so tame. “They’re here for you,” she whispers, turning her whole body so her back faces the prince.
“What are you talking about? Why would—”
“The letter sent to you from the kingdom. I thought you told me it was a mistake.”
“It was,” you mutter, eyes glancing at Prince Joshua behind her. His gaze is averted, presumably out of respect for the conversation you’re having with your mother right now, but you can’t find it in yourself to appreciate him for it.
“Then why is he asking for your name?”
You gulp anxiously, eyes flickering between your mother’s eyes and the floor. “I don’t know.”
“Talk to him. It must be important,” she orders, walking forward and toward the kitchen and you grab her shoulder quickly.
“Are you kidding me? Why—why would I talk to him? Why would I talk to any of them?” you argue louder than you intended, and your mother swats your hand away sharply.
“They’re royalty,” she says, voice strained with caution.
“And? It’s not medieval times where they actually rule over us so—”
Your mother sighs heavily and then it hits you that no matter how much logic you try to expend, it’d be futile. “Talk to him. It isn’t quite like you have a choice.”
“You of all people shouldn’t put up with this,” you state and the second the words leave your lips, you regret it. Her face hardens and there’s a cold feeling that sinks in your stomach as she frees herself of your grasp and marches away.
You’re left watching her back fade into the rest of your house as your eyes are wide and you’re becoming increasingly aware of the presence of another person behind you. A person who is very important and very famous and very much a representation of all the things you loathe.
Turning on your heel, you don’t bother to push your lips up into a morning grin facing Prince Joshua with tired eyes and frown etched into your mouth. Taking a deep breath, you glance back at your mother who is in a far off room, deciding that whatever he needs to say to you, she doesn’t need to hear.
Slipping on some slippers, you quickly walk out of the house and close the door behind you, putting you right in front of Prince Joshua who waits for you with bright eyes.
“Hi,” he greets, voice airy and light as he takes a few steps back so he can bow, of which you begrudgingly return. “Sorry to bother you so early in the morning, I was just taking care of some work in the area and was told to stop by and talk to you about something.”
He sounds sincere, and his lips curve into a pleasant expression when he speaks, and you wonder if he’s plain stupid playing dumb to save you the humiliation of the situation—a royal prince speaking to the daughter of ‘a slut who seduced the royal advisor.’
So unable to decipher anything about his true intentions, you ask bluntly, “Is it about the letter I got from the kingdom two weeks ago?”
Prince Joshua chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck and you catch the fancy white fabric of his buttoned up shirt underneath the coat. “I mean, yes it is and—”
You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why do you guys even bother sending letters? It’s the 21st century, you know? Emails exist.”
His face reddens, looking away before pursing his lips together. “Some things are just kept out of tradition,” Prince Joshua reasons quickly. “But I totally understand that, we’ll keep emailing in mind. But for the meantime, that’s, uh, kind of what I’m here for. We didn’t hear back a response, and I would like to take your answer back to the castle for you.
“Isn’t no response enough of a response?”
“Well—”
“My answer is no, if that wasn’t obvious,” you say, turning back to the door. “Is that all?”
“Wait!” he exclaims, grabbing your arm with his white leather gloves. It’s a bit surprising, really—he seems awfully timid for a prince and you’re a bit unnerved by how he hasn’t reprimanded you yet for being disrespectful. “Is there a reason why you don’t want to take on the job? If there are some specifics, maybe we can adjust the arrangement so it’s more to your liking.”
Your eyes widen, bewildered. “What? No I—I don’t care for anything like that, I won’t take the job.”
“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine,” he mutters under his breath before his eyebrows knit together as he looks at the ground, seemingly trying to figure something out. “Is it the money? We can negotiate your salary,” he offers and you shake your head.
“No, it’s not the money—I don’t care about the money,” you say harshly. “It’s not any of that, I just don’t want to.”
“Can you tell me why? It’s just, I’ll have to report this back to the Counsel and if I’m not able to recruit you, they’d at least want some reasoning for why.”
Inhaling sharply, it takes all your self control to not let your eye twitch and slam the door in his face. “Are you really asking me why I don’t want to?” Pursing your lips together, you glare at him harshly. “You were there that day, weren’t you?” you ask more quietly, and for a moment you see Prince Joshua falter. “Not that I’d expect you to care but surely you can at least understand why I don’t want to.”
“I-I’m sorry, but I really can’t change the past.”
Scoffing, you turn on your heel and open the door. “I’m not asking you to.”
“Wait—just wait a sec’!” he calls out, stopping the door with his palm before you close it. “You’re in your second year at Hong University, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response before he continues. “We’ll pay for the rest of your tuition.”
The air in your lungs seems stuck for a passing moment, and you shake your head to yourself, stepping into your house and turning around one last time with cold eyes and a deep frown. “No.”
The prince looks around hastily before blurting out, “We’ll do all of it!”
“All of what?”
“We’ll pay for all of your tuition—reimburse you for what you’ve already paid.” You don’t care. You shouldn’t care. “All of it, plus your hourly wage,” he adds, and you don’t even have a chance to think before you feel your mother’s hand on your back.
“She’ll do it.”
Your mother chuckles as she helps you tie the lavender colored robe around your waist. You’re not sure what she finds so funny about this, but you bite your tongue when you start to catch on how she ties the ribbons with such ease.
Over ten years of being away from the castle can’t erase the time she spent there, tying her own robe every morning before she was stripped of her title, and in turn, also the life she worked so hard to build up.
As you look down at the smooth fabric sent to you a week earlier from the castle, you’re forced to begrudgingly admire the intricate embroidery. The collar and ribbons are decorated with a darker purple stitching that runs in all sorts of twists and turns and swivels around the curves of your body.
“They’ve made them look nicer since I’ve last seen them,” she thinks out loud, matting her hands down your shoulders to smooth the fabric down one last time before taking a look.
“I don’t understand why you’re still so—” You inhale sharply and press your lips together, warning yourself to not say anything more when she shoots you a cautionary look. “Sorry,” you mutter, turning away so you can glance at yourself in the mirror. You do look pretty nice, if you had to admit.
“Just think about the money,” your mother encourages. “They’re covering the cost of all your schooling—all those days spent at Mr. Min’s can now go towards things you enjoy, rather than paying for your university.”
“I guess,” you grumble, adjusting your hair one last time before grabbing your phone and keys, walking towards the foyer.
“You know the way right?” your mother calls out as you slip on your shoes and walk out onto the front porch.
“I wish I didn’t,” is all you say, low and under your breath as you make your way to the car.
The castle lies in the heart of the city, so it’s quite the drive. You’re careful as you try to keep your robes clean, bunching it up to your thighs as you drive, and once you’ve made your way to the castle, you’re sure to make sure the hem of the bottom doesn’t hit the ground.
Reporting to the entrance that was given in your email (why they send emails for instructions but not the actual invitation to your job still remains a mystery to you), you carefully tuck your phone into a crevice of your robes.
The entrance starts at a gate on the east end of the castle, and you make your way to the little hut that sits at one end where a woman in a lavender polo and dress pants sits at a desk. Knocking on the window, you smile nervously as she looks up from her papers.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes!” you say, holding up your phone and pointing to your first day instructions. “It’s my first day here, and I’m not sure how to get inside and all.”
“Did they give you a code?”
“Uh, yeah let me check again,” you murmur, looking back at your phone to find the 5 digit code you were sent. “It’s, uh—32423.” The lady hums and nods, checking something on her computer before looking up at you with a smile.
“That’s correct. From now on you can just come through the smaller gate on the side—it should be to the left of this big gate, and just put in whatever code you have. It changes every few days but you’ll be notified with the new password every time it does.”
“Thank you,” you say, glancing over your shoulder to look at the gate she’s talking about.
“For now, just follow me. Since it’s your first day, I’ll show you the way to the … where was it you need to get to?”
“Right here it says the Advisory Quart?”
The girl’s eyes widen as she sits up from her seat and walks out of the hut, leading you toward the smaller gate. “Seriously?” she asks as she punches in the code, the gate automatically opening once she’s done.
The gate leads to a narrow pathway that runs slightly uphill in the midst of a lush field of trimmed green grass and sparse flowers that was previously hidden from you by the large stone halls. You remember the scene vaguely, but it’s a lot lovelier in person than you remember. Glancing up the pathway, you catch sight of the large castle in front of you, and the vision has an uneasy feeling floating in your stomach.
“Uh yeah, is that surprising?” you respond, hoping the small talk will distract you, even if it’s only a little.
“I mean the Advisory Quart is no joke. Those people work like crazy dogs—” she says with a laugh before looking at you with wide eyes. “Wait, I’m sorry—please don’t tell anyone I said that, they’ll—”
“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. But please do continue—what were you saying? I haven’t been in that castle in a long—I’ve never been to the castle before, so I’m not up to speed with all the different Quarts and sectors and stuff.”
“Oh well, it’s just that the Advisory Quart does a lot of work … I swear they’re always running around, talking about some new project they’re working on,” she says as you follow her up some steps, nearing an entrance to a building connected to the castle.
“What kind of projects?” you ask curiously.
“Oh gosh, everything, I tell you, they do pretty much everything. From helping the King with his own decisions to doing absolutely random, huge projects, there always seems to be someone who’s on top of everything. I remember I had a friend whose husband worked up there—they were working on designing a whole new ballroom and no one had any idea why! So what are you going to be doing there?”
Chuckling nervously, you aren’t sure if you should tell this girl that you don’t really know. “One of those random projects, I assure you,” you tell her because you’re pretty sure it’s true. After all, you’re almost positive they won’t have you be doing anything that’s worthwhile.
“Ah, well you’ll probably be swamped either way,” the girl says with a sigh as you reach a large wooden door. “Anyways, we’ll part ways here. Just go through these doors and there’ll be a big hallway. Ignore all the different corridors and doors on the side, and just go straight and you can see there’s an open room at the end of this hallway. That’s where your check-in will be, and the people there will direct you to wherever you need to go.”
You blink a few times, taking in all the information before nodding meekly, bowing and thanking the girl for her time as she walks away. Taking a deep breath, you open the door with a loud creaking noise, stepping into the grand hallway.
The walls are beige with ornate accents lining the bottom and top, intricate designs carved into the ceilings that hang chandeliers in intervals. Your sandals clack against smooth travertine marble as your eyes roam the entrances to different corridors and rooms, doors dark and wooden, similar to the one you just entered through.
There aren’t many people in the long hallways, passing by only a few others who seem to have their attention busied by papers or their phone. Some of them are wearing similar fashioned robes to yours, while most of the others are wearing the same lavender colored polo and white slacks as the girl who brought you here.
Smoothing the fabric below your waist one more time as you near the large open room you were directed to, you glance around and find a desk with a kind looking receptionist talking to a man wearing your kind of robes.
Quietly approaching the desk, you stand a few feet behind him, patiently waiting for them to finish so you can step up. Neither of them seem to notice, being caught up in a conversation that seems a bit of a mix of professional and leisurely.
Twiddling with your fingers behind your back, you rock side to side on your feet as you wait for the two to finish up talking about how they’re excited for the next ball that’s coming up, not bothering to think about who these people might be and why they’re even invited to it.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man at the counter calls out, “I can help you.” He smiles and waves you over before nudging the other man on his shoulder. “Seokmin, go—you’re distracting me.”
The man he pushed is a handsome looking guy, light brown hair falling just above his eyes as he turns around and gives a small smile, stepping to the side but not fully backing away. “Ah, sorry about that. Go ahead, we were just catching up.”
“No worries,” you say quickly, walking up to the receptionist. “I’m here to find the Advisory Quart I think? I was told to report to this entrance, and the lady at the front told me to come here—it’s my first time here so—”
“Your first time in the castle?” the other man asks you with wide eyes.
“Uh, well—”
“Don’t mind him—Seokmin, you know better than to mess with the newbies,” the receptionist murmurs, and you frown at the word. He catches on and looks up at you, holding a hand out. “No offense.”
“N-none taken. So could you help me—I’m really not sure where to go.”
“Yeah of course. Does your email say who you’ll be reporting to?”
“It says here ‘Mr. Park.’”
“Oh okay, his room number’s going to be 77, right down that corridor right there,” the receptionist tells you kindly, pointing at one of the side hallways you saw while walking here. “Since it’s your first day, I’ll let him know that you’ll be coming down so he can be ready. I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
“Thank you so much,” you say bowing, quickly telling him your name. So caught up in the kindness of these peers, you almost forgot why you were so reluctant to come here in the first place, but no worries, this receptionist does a good job of reminding you.
His lips press into a thin line as raises a brow, asking you to repeat your last name again. When your answer slips from your lips, it’s much quieter. A heavy cloud sinks over you as you realize that even after years away, your family name is still tainted.
“Okay,” the receptionist finally says briskly, and you’re taken aback by how cold his voice has become. “I’ll let him know you’re coming down. You can proceed now.”
He doesn’t give you a ‘good luck,’ or a ‘have a nice day,’ or a ‘do you have any questions,’ despite his cheery attitude from before. Now he’s looking at you with an expressionless face and eyes that won’t meet yours as you shamefully turn away.
So caught up in the disappointment, you hardly notice how the other man—Seokmin—is still watching the scene unfold. As you walk away from the open room, there’s a hand on your wrist. Whipping around, you’re faced with a Seokmin whose face seems unreadable, just like the receptionists. Except something is … different. He seems sincere, and you feel safe.
“You might get lost trying to get there,” Seokmin says rather casually, letting go of your hand and walking next to you. “Come on, I’ll show you the way—I’m working under Mr. Park too actually, I’m his intern—so I know the way pretty well and can fill you in on what he’s like.”
You wonder why Seokmin isn’t acting like the receptionist. Your family name is still somewhat taboo in the city outside the castle, so you were pretty confident when walking into the actual place of the ‘crime scene’ that you’d be even more … generally disliked.
Seokmin seems to be different though, and you can’t quite figure out why.
Seokmin lets you know Mr. Park is mean when he wants, which seems to be always. Direct with his words but also, you have to read in between the lines sometimes if you don’t want to get scolded. You’re not sure what to do with that information, because Seokmin doesn’t tell you much else.
You walk down the corridor with him before stopping in front of a wooden door to your right, labeled with that familiar sun emblem and a golden plated plaque reading ‘77.’ “C’mon, he should be in here right now,” Seokmin says, pressing against the frame and pushing the door open.
Inside is a room unlike the others you’ve seen before. The ceiling is much lower and baskets of plants hang from it, vines lining the limestone walls, and pots and beds of plants sit by the smaller desks that litter the area. There’s a larger desk at the end opposite to the door, and you see a man with grey hair and firm eyes sitting at the ornate chair, reading through a stack of papers.
“Ah, Seokmin,” he says, standing up when he notices the two of you by the door, and it’s not you realize that this man is Mr. Park. Both you and Seokmin bow hastily. “I was waiting for the two of you to arrive.” His gaze then turns to you, and it’s sharp. “What took you so long?” His tone is harsh and you almost wince. “It isn’t your first time in the castle,” Mr. Park says bluntly, and for once you are taken aback because no one has addressed the cloud hanging over your head so directly yet.
“I’m sorry sir, I haven’t been here in—”
“No excuses. Don’t be late again.”
“Y-yes sir,” you reply meekly, faltering in your step a little.
Mr. Park sighs heavily and looks at Seokmin, waving him off. “Go to the Ballroom and ask around to see if they need anything for tonight. Don’t be slow like last time.”
“Yes sir! Right on it,” Seokmin says with a nod, quickly turning on his heel and scurrying out of the room.
“And for you …” Mr. Park mutters as he takes in your figure with an unnerving look on his face. “I need you to lead a project.”
Your eyes bulge out of your head. “Lead a project? I don’t even know what—”
“Word has it that the Prince himself had to bribe you with a whole four years of Hong tuition to get you here. Surely you didn’t think you’d be given light work.” people knew about that?
“Well, I didn’t know much about anything and I don’t even know what work I’m supposed—”
“You’ll figure it out, soon enough,” Mr. Park tells you briskly, walking over to his desk where a large chalkboard sits to its left. Using a stick, he points at a word written in a corner. Garden. “The Queen has a courtyard that she no longer likes the look of. It’s been stripped down, and you’re in charge of turning it into a garden of her liking.”
You knit your eyebrows together. “A-a whole courtyard?”
Mr. Park raises a brow. “Are you saying that it’s too much for you?”
“N-no!” you exclaim quickly. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I don’t get why I would be chosen to do this.”
Mr. Park huffs, and you wonder how such a tiny old man can fit so much sass in him. “If you must know: the Queen loved how your …” he pauses and within a fraction of a second you have a feeling where this is going, “… your mother designed the gardens on the West end.”
Mr. Park walks towards his desk and sits down, not looking at you as he cards through a few binders. “The Queen wants a similar style for this courtyard but since we can’t exactly have her back …”
You wince for real this time as you conclude, “… you tried to get the next closest thing.”
Mr. Park nods, not returning a snarky comment this time, much to your pleasure. “I’m the head of Design & Architecture, by the way, if you have any questions ask me—as long as it’s not stupid. You lead your project—design it and plan it. When you need people to work on it just talk to Seokmin and he’ll assign someone. You have three months to finish it. If you need an extension, you’ll have to get it approved by me.”
“Okay,” you respond quickly, trying to take in all the information at once. “Is there, like, a theme? Anything she wants in particular?”
“That’s a stupid question,” Mr. Park says bluntly and you frown as he points at a desk behind you. “Your desk is there. Any information you need will be there.”
“Y-yes sir, thank you,” you say, bowing and turning on your heel to sit down at your new chair. The desk is dark, wooden, and completely barren except for a thin folder set in the middle. Opening it, there’s a single paper inside with only a few bullet points typed out, and it hardly takes you a moment to read through all of it.
It’s vague—your only real requirements are the adherence to the kingdom’s symbolic purple colors, and inclusion of a general theme throughout the courtyard.
You furrow your eyebrows at the lack of guidance—were you really left to make such major decisions about such a large space in a castle you haven’t been in years? There’s so much room for error and disappointment and rejection, and after the past years of being treated like your family was nothing but a mistake, you aren’t sure if you can handle any more of it.
Closing your eyes, you absentmindedly nod to yourself in a silent promise. Closing the folder, you stand up. “Mr. Park, sir, do you know where the courtyard—”
“There is a map on the wall. Figure it out.”
You huff, glancing at the large map of the castle next to the chalkboard. This is going to be harder than you thought.
You run into Seokmin just as you leave 77, and he helps lead you to the courtyard. “So you’re working on this one, huh,” he says under his breath as you both appear in front of a large plot of land surrounded by castle buildings on all sides. You’re both standing on the East entrance to the courtyard, and there are four adjacent and opposite entrances on all other sides.
“Uh, yeah,” you say steadily, glancing back down at your minimal instructions before looking back up at the courtyard. It’s a square, and if you had to estimate, each side would be around 50 yards long, leaving quite a great deal of space for you to work with it.
“Pretty big project, huh,” Seokmin says, although his tone seems much more lighthearted than your mood. How the hell are you supposed to transform this in three months?
“Yeah,” you mutter, squinting at the bright sunlight as you analyze the plot.
“You know, I can totally help if you want,” Seokmin begins to say, and you take note of how quickly he talks. “I don’t know if Mr. Park told you but you can basically ask me for help on anything and like, I’m really doing this whole interning thing for fun—” Who the hell works as an intern for Mr. Park, for fun? “—so I’d be happy to help.”
“Thanks. I’ll ask if I need anything.”
“Great!” Seokmin cheers, clapping his hands together before looking behind your shoulder and letting his smile brighten. He waves at someone behind you and you purse your lips together, wondering if you should brace yourself for yet another salty interaction.
“Minnie!” a deep voice greets and suddenly, your feet seem glued in their spot. You know that voice.
“Shua, hey!” Seokmin says cheerily, and you silently cringe. “Crazy running into you here, gosh, I haven’t seen you since last week!”
Prince Joshua laughs, and it reminds you of all those years ago when you watched him from inside the greenhouse. You hate how you remember.
“Yeah, my fencing instructor let me off earlier so I thought I might browse around the castle for a bit,” he explains, and when it all goes quiet and you realize that he must be looking at you, but you don’t dare to turn around.
“Oh,” Seokmin exclaims, as if he’s just realized that he forgot something. You feel a tapping on your shoulder, and for a second you debate just running the other way and never letting yourself return to the castle but for something, you’re planted in your place. “Hey, look,” he says quietly in your ear, “It’s the Prince.”
Like you don’t fucking know that. Nodding, you slowly follow his lead and turn around, eyes trained on the ground as you bow.
“Oh, well if it isn’t that little ray of sunshine,” Prince Joshua says, and it takes everything to not let your eye twitch as you finally look up at him. He’s wearing the same royal uniform you say to him when you showed up on his doorstep and his eyes are crinkled as he smiles widely.
Your face burns as Seokmin’s eyes flicker back and forth between you, and your lips are pressed together in an awkward silence. “You know each other?” His face displays nothing but perplexion for a few moments but then it seems that some of the cogs turned and his lips open wide into a large ‘o,’ and Seokmin waves his finger while nodding. “Oh you’re the girl Shua said he had to offer four years worth of—”
“Seokmin,” Prince Joshua interrupts, putting his hand over his friend’s mouth after catching the look of mortification on your face for bringing it up. “Mr. Park was calling you, I’m pretty sure.”
“Ugh, are you kidding me? I thought this would be fun for the summer but he actually has me doing stuff!” As the two converse casually, you wonder how hard it’d be to quickly slip away.
“Not sure what you expected,” Joshua chides his friend before Seokmin groans and you hear the heavy footsteps of him walking away. He calls out your name once and your eyes shoot up as you bashfully wave your hand at him, bidding goodbye.
You’re left in this corridor with the empty thoughts in your head and the goddamn prince of the kingdom. You half expect him to just wave at you and go about his own business, but it seems like you still have a lot of learning to do.
After all, Prince Joshua is a fickle man. “It’s nice to see you again, Sunshine,” he greets, and you think you might pass out from embarrassment. Glancing around, you see a few maids overhear him using the name and murmuring their own whispers amongst themselves as they rush away.
“H-hi,” you say nervously, suddenly aware that much attention is on you now that the prince is speaking to you.
“So this is what you’re working on?” he asks curiously, not paying a single mind to your awkwardness, walking toward the door which leads to the East entrance to the courtyard.
“Yes sir,” you murmur. You could be snappish outside the walls and in the boundaries of your own home but here, you’re bound by royal courtesy and witnesses that surround you. Compliance is all you can manage out in the open.
“Don’t call me sir—you’re around the same age as me, so it feels weird,” Joshua says dismissively, and you furrow your brows at how casual he’s being. “So,” he starts, looking out at the empty yard of dirt, “you got any idea of what you’re going to do with it?”
“Not a clue,” you reply honestly, keeping your answers brisk. Joshua seems to catch on and he pouts at you. How can a man act so childish? The thought lingers in your head for a moment before he starts talking to you.
“So cold. Brighten up Sunshine. I’ll stop in soon to see how it’s going here—I’m interested!” he says cheerily before stepping back and nodding. You bow as he walks away, waving to you one last time before leaving you in the corridor with not a single thought in his mind.
There seems to be a distinct odd air around the prince, except you can’t quite place why that is.
It’s been three weeks since you started working at the castle—time passes quickly when you have loads of work to do and not much time to do it. You spent the first week hunched over at your desk simply raking your mind for ideas, for anything that would give you even a smidge of inspiration.
77 is rather sparse. It’s only really you and Mr. Park actually working in there, with the occasional Seokmin running in and out to tend to everyone’s miniscule needs.
And then there’s Jihoon, who is the only other person who actually works at his desk, even if it’s only for an hour a day. Jihoon is slightly brooding and always has his nose buried in some work, but he seems standoff-ish to just about everyone. He isn’t unkind though, just … just reserved, and you feel thankful that there’s another person somewhat like you here.
77 is kind to you and your heart. Everyone works on their own schedule and is in their own head, and no one seems to treat you extraordinarily different. You wish the same would go for the rest of the castle.
On the second day of your work, the embroidered name on the fabric over your right breast was clear enough for people to start learning who you were and recognize your face.
But you’re used to the stares—both the subtle and obvious ones—and you are used to the whispers, the guessing games about whether or not you’re a slut just like your mother was.
You’re not, by the way, but you’ve had enough experience with these kinds of people to know that they can guess all they want but you know the answer, and the truth will come to light at some point. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, they'll figure it out on their own. Eventually.
By the second week, you figured out a plan and needed to get to work on executing it. Seokmin seemed to be pleased when you asked him for help on that.
“I need people who can build a pathway,” was all you needed to tell him and then he was on the phone, and then the next day you had ten men ready for you by the dirt field ready to work. “I want stone tiles and it needs to curve exactly like this,” you told them, showing them a scaled down map of the area with a long, curvy line running from the North to South ends, and another even more curvy one running from the East to West end.
They didn’t ask questions, which you’re grateful for, because coming up with it was a whole feat on its own. Explaining it would be a whole other story.
As you walk up to the castle’s entrance today, you catch sight of a girl who sits in her little hut in front of the East gate. She’s the same girl who helped you on the first day, you realize. She was kind then, you remember, but now as you meet her gaze, she turns away and pretends to go back to her phone.
You don’t frown or let the gesture sear your heart because in all honesty, that’s exactly what you’re expecting. Sighing, you make your way to the smaller gate and walk the small way up to the actual castle grounds before heading straight to 77.
Jihoon is sitting at his desk but is just about to get up, sending you a quick nod as he stacks his files and walks out of the room. Mr. Park isn’t here, for once, although you did overhear some information about a ball happening tonight so you figure he must be busy.
You’re thankful Seokmin is here, and you catch him watering one of the plants. “Hey, what are you doing?” you ask him hastily, walking up behind his back before grabbing the watering pot from his hands.
“Um … watering … the plants?”
“These are yarrows,” you emphasize, pointing at the white flowers he was just watering.
“Okay … I am really not sure what to do with that information,” Seokmin says slowly as if he isn’t quite processing your words.
Huffing, you tell him, “Yarrows don’t need a lot of water. You aren’t watering them … I think a better word would be drowning.”
“Oh,” Seokmin mutters, looking down at that pot that’s now rich with soaked soil. “Sorry, I, uh, didn’t know,” he apologizes, and you purse your lips together because he does sound sincere.
“It’s okay … sorry for being mean about it,” you add quietly, returning the pot to his hand. “I can send you a list later—of all the plants here and how much water they need.”
Seokmin’s ears perk up. “Really? Thank you, but you seriously don’t have to, you know.”
“I know, but I enjoy talking about plants and stuff. And I’d rather the ones in this room be taken care of nicely, so the least I can do is help you,” you offer before retreating to your desk. “I think I need your help by the way, so can you come with me?” you ask, pulling out a measuring tape from a drawer.
Seokmin nods, dropping the watering bucket by his own desk and following behind you as you leave the room. The journey from the Advisory Quart to your courtyard, which is located near Royal Residence Quart, is quite the walk, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little bit pleased that you had someone like Seokmin as company.
“How’s the project turning out?” he asks as you make your way down the long hallways. You catch a few other workers spare the two of you glances and you try to hold your head up and look forward when you respond.
“I’m a little behind,” you admit. “But the construction manager told me that they should be finished with the pathway today, and I asked them to start tilling some other parts of the field so I can get some flora in there soon.”
“Oh really That’s nice—I stopped by the place just the other day and the pathway was looking pretty cool—the color fit in really well.”
“Hm, that’s good … I was worried about that,” you murmur to yourself thoughtfully, pulling out your phone so you can glance at the list of things you need to get done before heading back to 77. Tucking the device back into a crevice of your robe, you smile as you near the East end courtyard entrance. “I gotta get a plaque up here or something,” you remind yourself, looking at the empty space above the entrance.
“You want me to get on that soon?” Seokmin offers and you shrug.
“I guess. I’ll still have to come up with a name for this place …” you say, walking into the courtyard.
“Wow,” Seokmin mutters as he follows behind you. “The pathway looks great!” He pats your back and you throw him a small smile when you look over the two twisting paths that connect the 4 ends of the courtyard. “What was it that you needed my help with again—Oh hey! Shua!”
Oh for fuck’s sake—
“Seokminnie!” that familiar, smooth voice appears from behind you as Seokmin turns on his heel and scurries toward his friend. Slowly and carefully, you tuck your hands behind your back and bow when you turn around and are met with the sight of Prince Joshua. “Sunshine,” he greets with a smile after exchanging his casual pleasantries with his friend.
“Good morning sir,” you murmur as Seokmin bounces up and down on feet from a newfound excitement. How does he have this much energy at nine in the morning?
“I thought I said don’t call me sir,” Prince Joshua tells you, scrunching his face up when you let the word slip from your mouth. “Feels weird.”
“I’m sorry but you’re kind of the prince. I don’t think there’s anything else for me to call you other than ‘sir,’” you huff lowly before slapping a hand over your mouth. You’re not scared of what Joshua might do, per se, but the thought of someone else overhearing your snarky remark has you reminding yourself to be more careful.
Joshua only chuckles. Is there anything that bothers him? “You’re funny,” he comments. “You can call me Joshua, like Minne over here,” he tells you, patting Seokmin’s shoulder affectionately.
Your face sours and you shake your head, “I’m sorry that doesn’t feel right.”
Joshua rolls his eyes playfully, choosing to ignore what you said and instead looks around the courtyard. “Nice pathway. It’s cool that it isn’t straight—is it supposed to be something?”
“Sort of,” you say, turning around to look at the stone on the ground. “It’s confusing.”
Joshua scoffs. “Try me.”
You furrow your eyebrows. Why Prince Joshua—or as he would like you to call him, just Joshua—is so curious about a random courtyard is beyond you. “They’re just lines that follow the movement of sunlight. I guess. I don’t really know how to explain it.”
“That’s cool,” Seokmin chimes in when he sees you pulling out a roll of measuring tape. “Oh yeah, sorry, I didn’t get to hear what you said you needed help with.”
“Oh yeah, I just want to measure a—”
“Sorry for interrupting,” Joshua says, and you frown when he pulls out a buzzing phone, holding it up to Seokmin’s face. “What did you do this time—why is Mr. Park calling me?”
Seokmin’s eyes widen in panic as you watch the scene unfold. “What?! I haven’t done anything wrong recently. Well I don’t think I did and I’m pretty sure—”
He’s cut off by Joshua pressing his finger over his lip, effectively shutting him up. You almost laugh at the way Seokmin complies so quickly, but hold it back as Joshua holds the phone up to his ear. The sounds that come from the call are muffled but you can vaguely make out the voice of your boss before Joshua sighs and ends the call.
“What are yarrows and what did you do to them?” he asks his friend, and this time you actually do stifle out a giggle. Joshua glances at you as you quickly press your lips back into a fine line, both of you turning your attention back to Seokmin whose ears are turning bright red, shoulders tensing up.
“Oh no—I really don’t want another scolding!” he whines.
“Well buckle up, because he’s asking for you back at 77 right now,” Joshua shrugs as Seokmin huffs, stomping off back into the corridor and presumably back toward the Advisory Quart. “Sorry,” he says, turning to you, “I keep sending your assistant away when you need him.”
“It’s fine,” you say gruffly. “I, uh, I can still do this all by my stuff so it’s not really a big deal.”
Joshua narrows his eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t have fencing for another …” He glances down at his star studded wrist watch for a second, “… thirty minutes so I can help out.”
To say you’re mortified by the offer is an understatement. A prince helping out you? He must be fucking with you because—
“Stop giving me weird looks. I know how to help out around here, you know?”
“Duly noted, but I’m not sure how it would look on my end if the prince was helping me out with—” you gesture to the field around you, “—yard work.”
Joshua laughs, and once again you’re left in perplexity. “Weren’t you the one who reminded me that this is the 21st century? I don’t just sit around and do nothing, you know that right?”
“But still,” you mumble.
“Okay fine. If you’re so obsessed with this royal hierarchy thing, then I, as Prince Joshua, am officially requesting you to let me help. Surely you won’t turn that down.”
This man is so weird.
“Fine,” you relent, holding up the measuring tape. “You see that little circle in the middle where the pathways sort of curve around? I need to measure the circumference of it.”
“That’s it?” Joshua asks casually, grabbing one end of the measuring tape as you make your way to the plot. “Oh, I mean I guess it’s kinda big,” he adds, glancing down at the measuring tape. This one only goes up to 15 feet.”
“You’re right,” you mutter to yourself. “Okay here, let’s just use this,” you say, pulling out a roll of thin string and handing one end to Joshua. “If you stand here I’ll just circle it around and measure the length of the string,” you explain, unraveling the roll and walking around the outer edge of the circle, trailing the string behind you.
Joshua just stands in the spot that you placed him, holding the string and frowning. “I feel like I’m not helping much.”
“Trust me,” you reply under your breath. “You’re helping me just enough.” You don’t mean it to come out bitter, but it does anyways.
“What happened to all the royal hierarchy stuff that you were on about?”
Your eyes harden on him as you’ve made it halfway around the length of the circle, pausing to make sure he notices your subtle glare. “If you didn’t know, this is kind of my job on the line, and while you’ve made it clear that what I say doesn’t affect you, I’m not sure the same could be said for what other people see. So I’m sorry if I don’t want people looking at us and getting the wrong idea.”
“What do you mean the wrong idea?”
Huh. And here you thought that with all those royal tutors, the prince would be smart. Too bad for Joshua, but right now, he’s coming off as just about the densest guy alive.
You’ve been working at the castle for five weeks now. Since your last meeting with Joshua (he insists you get rid of the ‘Prince’ and ‘sir’ so diligently now that even in your head, you’ve removed him of those honorifics), you’ve only seen him twice.
The first was three days after he helped you measure the length of your soon to be pond. You were on the phone with a construction contractor in 77 when Joshua popped in to say ‘hi’ to Seokmin (how and why the two are friends, you don’t know, and you don’t care enough to ask). Noticing you were here past the regular working hour of six, he waited for a few moments to let you finish up your call before walking up to your desk.
“You know you don’t get paid overtime, right Sunshine?” he asks, confused on why exactly you were still here.
“Well work needs to get done,” you sigh heavily, taking a few seconds to clean up your desk and throw away a few old designs you sketched earlier.
“Hey, those looked cool, why’d you trash them?”
“They didn’t work,” you tell him, rummaging through more papers to find the few that you actually wanted to keep.
“Told you,” Seokmin comes up from behind Joshua, patting his shoulder. “She’s a tough judge—even on herself.”
“I get what you mean now,” Joshua murmurs, nodding along with his friend.
Your eyes snap up. “Why are you talking about me as if I’m not here—wait, why do you guys talk about me when I’m not here anyways?”
“You’re like the only one that’s nice to me in 77! Well, sort of,” Seokmin reasons with you.
“I mean you do kind of suck as an intern—”
“Hey! I just happened to get distracted a lot. I’m an honest worker, trust!”
You huff, finally finding the paper that you were looking for. It’s a design for a couple plaques that you want posted above the entrances, and you tuck it into a folder.
“Is that in Latin?” Joshua piques when he catches a glimpse of the wording.
“Uh, yeah—you know Latin?”
“He’s a prince. Of course he does,” Seokmin tells you, turning around to nudge his friend on the side. “This spoiled brat has been learning Latin since he was six!”
Joshua scoffs. “Who’re you calling a spoiled brat? You were in those classes with me too!”
You consider wondering about who exactly Seokmin is and why he was in those classes with a prince, why he’s so close with Joshua, and a plethora of questions run through your mind, before you remind yourself that you really don’t care.
“Yeah but—” Seokmin tries to reason with his friend before you stand up and both of their attention are directed at you.
“You’re right Pri—Joshua. I don’t get paid overtime, so I’m gonna get going now.” You bow at him and then Seokmin, grabbing your folder and bag before pushing in your chair and heading to the exit. Awkwardly, the two boys say bye to you before glancing at each other.
“That was weird,” Seokmin says, and Joshua shrugs.
“I guess.”
“Did you actually understand what she wrote or were you just bluffing? I don’t remember shit from those Latin lessons.”
Joshua rolls his eyes and nods. “Yeah, but I only got the second word. Said ‘invictus,’ I think.”
“Huh, cool. Got no clue what that means.”
“It means undefeatable, dipshit,” Joshua groans. “Seriously, how’d you pass that class!”
“Hey, I was a great student—I just have, uh, bad memory,” Seokmin pouts.
“Yeah I can tell … seriously, how did you manage to fuck up the yarrows even after she,” Joshua gestures behind him as if to point at where you exited just a few moments earlier, “sent you all those instructions and all!”
“God, don’t remind me. I actually feel really bad, ‘cause Mr. Park yelled at her too for giving me ‘the wrong instructions,’ but I really just forgot what she told me.” Cringing at the mental image of both you and Seokmin being scolded by Mr. Park, Joshua shakes his head—that is not a pretty scene.
Joshua sighs, the two of them making their way out of the empty 77 and walking down the corridor towards the Royal Residence Quart. “Why’re you even interning for him? You don’t need a job, especially not as one being an assistant.”
“My dad’s pissed at me, remember?” Seokmin tells his friend gruffly, and Joshua purses his lips at the mention of the older man.
“Right.”
“Wanted to punish me for the summer or whatever, but I guess it’s not too bad. The staff are actually pretty funny, and your Sunshine girl is really bossy so she gives me a lot of work to do.”
“I can’t tell if you’re complaining or celebrating.”
“Both, I think,” Seokmin replies, the two of them laughing together. “Why do you talk to her so much? She’s even snappier to you than to me, and trust me, I can be pretty damn annoying.”
“Like I don’t know that,” Joshua mutters teasingly, earning him a punch on the arm. “But anyways, she seems interesting. Like cool, you know what I mean.”
“I guess,” Seokmin says absentmindedly. “Wonder what my dad would say about that.”
“Okay well your dad isn’t the King so I don’t really think it matters what your dad says about it.”
Seokmin raises a brow. “You sure? My dad almost had me transferred out of 77 because he heard I had to work with her.”
“Well that’s his own problem I guess. Just don’t let him bring it up with my dad because I’m not keen on having any more drama in this castle,” Joshua mumbles, stopping in front of the big door that leads to the residence.
Seokmin nods at one of the guards standing by the door, and she presses a code to a small box on the wall and the doors open. “You coming? Dinner’s about to be served,” he calls to Joshua when he walks forward but realizes his friend isn’t by his side.
Smiling, Joshua shakes his head and waves Seokmin off. “I’m gonna take a breather for a bit. Tell them to start dinner without me.”
Seokmin laughs. “You know they won’t do that.”
“I know, I know, but it’s the gesture that counts anyways. I’ll be back in twenty, trust.”
The second time you saw Joshua was yesterday evening just as you were just leaving 77 to head home, your arms full of papers to look through in the night. After getting the pathways cleaned up, you needed to work on adding more structures to the courtyard, but were at a loss of what to make and what to make it with.
With your stack of papers that were littered with different possible materials and architectural structures that you promised yourself to get through by the end of the night, even if it meant pulling a whole damn all nighter.
“Is Sunshine leaving at a normal time for once?” Joshua asks with a faux gasp as he comes across you in the hallway.
With the paper’s digging into your arms, you can only manage to grunt out a short, “Thankfully, I am,” before increasing your pace so you can get all this stuff to your car as quickly as possible.
“Hey, wait!” Joshua calls out from behind you, and you almost whine because your arms are killing you and you aren’t sure how much more of this you can handle. “Do you need help? I can—”
He’s cut off by the sound of your phone slipping from your pocket and crashing to the ground. “Shit,” you whimper under your breath as you try to balance all the papers on one hand while crouching down to pick up your phone with the other. You’re wobbling under all the weight, and you have half a mind to give up right here and now but then a larger hand is pushing itself into your vision.
“Here,” he says, quickly turning over the device to check for any cracks on the scene. In that fraction of a moment, your phone turns on and flashes your very bright and very embarrassing lock screen. Your face burns as you snatch the phone from his hands and tuck it back into your pocket. “Is that Percy Jackson?”
Adjusting the papers in your hand, you shuffle your feet and start walking toward the exit. Joshua follows, as expected. “Uh, yeah—I know it’s embarrassing but—”
“Uh, you did not just say that,” Joshua scoffs, and when you catch the oddly offended look on his face, your annoyance dissipates for a moment. “Percy Jackson is not embarrassing. Those books were like the defining character of my pre-teens.”
You chew on your lip, wondering how you should respond to this. “That’s cool. I used to like the stories too …”
“Seems like you still do, considering it’s like, your lock screen and all.”
“Look, I just have it ‘cause it looks cool,” you tell him bashfully, speeding up the pace of your steps in hopes that it’ll bring this conversation to end faster.
“Uh yeah, sure. Totally believe you.”
“I’m serious,” you huff. “I liked the books ages ago, but now I’m only interested in Greek mythology. It just so happens that the best art of Greek gods comes from Percy Jackson fan artists.”
“Sure. sure,” Joshua says blankly with a smirk teasing at his lips. “Again, totally believe you.” You don’t know why his subtle teasing has you gripping onto your papers so tightly, why it has you gritting your teeth together. And then you remember who this is and it all makes sense.
Joshua is playful and lighthearted, but he is still the Prince, after all.
Your sixth week at the castle, and you’re nearing the halfway mark for your project’s timeline. You’ve spent the past week working on getting some stone benches built into the courtyard, and just this morning you sent in an order to get some plaques engraved.
Mr. Park stopped by when you were checking out your progress earlier, glancing at the pathways and the nearly completed seating. He didn’t say anything, simply nodding and walking along, and you figure that that’s the best you’ll get from him.
Your day goes by fine, for the most part after that. When you take your lunch break at the cafeteria, Seokmin tags along and you’re pleased that for once, you won’t have to eat alone. He has to leave soon after though—apparently Jihoon called for his help, and so you’re left to take care of this afternoon’s work by yourself.
Not that you mind—people let you be in the castle, and it’s actually quite nice for getting work done. When you return to 77, it’s only occupied by Mr. Park who, as always, pays no mind to you. Taking a look at your schedule, you aren’t sure if you feel like smiling or frowning when you see your next activity lined up.
Visiting the greenhouse.
There’s an odd feeling that blooms in your stomach as you walk there. You haven’t been to this side of this castle yet, partly because you don’t need to, but mostly because you don’t want to.
It’s when you leave the walls and take your way out to the Northeastern gardens of the palace that the pathways start ringing bells in your head. The familiar green bushes that you remember your mother tending to. The fields of daffodils, and the little built in canals that lead toward the row of greenhouses—it’s all flooding back to you, and you can’t figure out if you like it or not.
When you first came to the castle, you figured that you could avoid confronting the remnants of your past, but you should’ve known that everything eventually goes full circle.
Which is how you find yourself standing in front of the greenhouse where everything—your life, your mother’s life, all of it—ended on that day over ten long years ago.
Taking a deep breath, you go up to the door of the largest greenhouse ,tentatively tapping on the blurry glass before pushing it open. Peeking inside, you’re met with the familiar sight of flora arranged in neat lines of soil beds.
As you step in, the air is moist and stuffy—when you inhale, you’re reminded of those early Saturday mornings where you sat by your mother’s desk and watched her tend to the plants. The humidity was usually uncomfortable, but you learned to love it. Right now, you learn how much you missed it.
“Can I help you?” a gruff voice interrupts your thoughts, and you whip your head around to find an elderly woman glaring up at you.
“Hi, I called earlier and you said I could take some of the hyacinths. I just wanted to ask which greenhouse they’d be in because—”
“31C,” she says bluntly, immediately turning back around to tend to whatever she was doing earlier.
You watch her for a few seconds blankly, before snapping out of your haze, “O-okay, thank you.” Pursing your lips, you let your head hang low as you start walking toward the door.
“That damned slut,” the woman mutters quietly. You don’t think you want to hear it, but you continue to listen anyway. “Thinks she can just send her daughter over and—”
“And?”
You don’t think you’ve ever been more happy to hear Joshua’s voice.
Looking up, he’s just entered through the entrance you were about to exit through, and while you would usually mull over the possible reasons he would be here, you’re far more focused on watching the bewildered look on this woman’s face
“Nothing sir!” she replies quickly, back straightened as she presses her hands behind her back.
“Good to hear,” he says simply. You watch from the side as Joshua gives her a look that you can’t really gauge before turning to you with a brighter look on his face. “Seokmin told me I would find you here?”
“I—yeah, he was right.”
“Well I can see that Sunshine,” Joshua chuckles and waves your hand in a gesture to follow him. You don’t have any other choice than to follow him out the greenhouse and into the much freer, lighter air. “What’re you doing here anyways?” he asks when you start finding your way to 31C.
“I need to look at some flowers.” Joshua asks you quite a bit about the courtyard, and although you don’t really get it, you’ve learned that it’s easier to just reply to his questions honestly than try to avoid them.
“For the courtyard?” he piques as you finally find the smaller greenhouse, opening the door to thankfully find it empty of anyone else.
Your gaze lands on a bed of hyacinths as you reply, “What else?”
“Okay, you need to stop answering all of my questions like I’m stupid.”
Huffing, you pull up a pot from under the bed and fill it up with soil before digging your hands into the dirt around one of the hyacinth plants. Your fingers search under the earth before feeling against the roots and carefully pulling out the plant.
“Maybe stop asking stupid questions then,” you suggest.
“Seeing as you think I’m dumb … do you want to tutor me?”
“What?” you deadpan, looking up at him with your hands still in the dirt. “Why?”
“I mean like, you’re smart and all, plus we get along—”
You click your tongue, finally pulling the plant out of the soil and pressing it into the pot. “Not so sure about that second part.”
“Okay well we have some shared interests and stuff—”
“Like?” you counter, walking over to a sink so you can wash the excess soil off.
“Percy Jackson. Greek mythology?”
Your ears perk up at that. “You like Greek mythology?”
“Yes! See! That’s like, already two common interests, Sunshine.”
“More like only two. And one of them is a book series I haven’t read in about nine years so I’m not even sure it counts,” you rebut.
“Oh no, it definitely counts,” Joshua counters, watching you pick up the flower pot and head towards the greenhouse exit. “Wait, we’re diverting from the point here.”
“What is the point again?”
“You need to tutor me!” he whines as he follows behind you, up the pathway back to the castle.
“I need to? Uh, sorry, but I don’t think tutoring the Prince is under my job description.”
“This is a different job though!”
You knit your eyebrows together. “Am I getting paid?”
“You might,” Joshua smirks. “I’ll pay you by the hour.”
Pondering, you chew on the inside of your cheek, before you finally respond, “How much are we talking?”
Joshua grins, shaking his head. “Should’ve known money was the way to your heart Sunshine.”
“Money is not the way to my heart. It’s just the way to get me to tutor you. Don’t mix those two up.”
“Don’t worry Sunshine, I wish you all the best in finding your sugar daddy husband eventually.”
Glaring, you chastise him. “Joshua!”
“Why did you ask me to do this again?” you ask, stepping into the room Joshua has just led you to. It’s near the Royal Residence Quart of the castle, and you’re a bit on edge. Joshua assured you earlier that no one would question why you of all people would be here with him, but you’ve also noticed that the boy can be a bit distant from reality.
“Because,” Joshua starts, watching you look around the room (it is a very nice room; bookshelves line the walls and there’s a grand desk in the middle, a rolling chalkboard on one end and a vintage map on another rolling board scattered off to another end). “I don’t like the royal tutor they have, and you’re smart,” he says casually.
“You can’t ask for another one?” you murmur, raising a brow as he moves to the desk and hands you a folder.
“I could, but my mother would get upset if I keep running through them. I’ve changed my tutors far too many times by now.”
“Ah,” you say dryly. “The extreme difficulties of the royalty. How unfortunate.”
“Sunshine,” Joshua grins, ignoring your snarky comment. “Can you at least pretend you want to be here?”
“Um, I’ll think about it,” you reply honestly, pursing your lips together as you glance at his chalkboard which has a list of things he needs to go over. “What is it that you need help on?”
“Well I’m good at math and stuff but Literature and Chemistry are quite literally killing me,” Joshua says with a sigh, sitting down at his desk.
“Literature?” you ask with narrowed eyes. “You’re the Prince—isn’t Literature supposed to be like, I don’t know, your forte?”
“Who told you that?” Joshua asks with a pout, pulling up a packet of papers and letting it down on his desk with a thud.
“I don’t know, I guess I just assumed they’d be having you read Machiavelli or something like that from the age of two.”
Joshua scoffs, holding up the book so you can read out the title. Oh, it’s The Waste Land. “Okay I get that this is a kingdom and all but seriously, who even uses Machiavellianism anymore? That’s from like six hundred years ago.”
“Less than that,” you correct, but shrug anyways and sit down at the chair on the other side of his desk. “But whatever, you need help with The Waste Land?”
“I mean, yeah I’ve read it a bunch but I just never get it and my mom is obsessed with it for some reason and I really don’t want her to make me sit through another read of it so I really need to write up something good on it that will satisfy my Literature instructor and my mom so I can get it out of the way.”
“A paper?”
“Yeah, you know: analyzing themes and stuff.”
“Okay I know what a paper is,” you snap and Joshua rolls his eyes.
“Look now you’re just picking fights over everything I say. Just relax and—”
“I am relaxed,” you huff, but the tension in your shoulders says otherwise. To be honest, you’re still not sure why Joshua decided to choose you of all people, as if you haven’t made it clear multiple times that you weren’t his biggest fan.
You can respect the effort, you guess, but the way he seems so unbothered by your snarkiness is getting a little bit irritating.
“Whatever you say Sunshine,” Joshua says with a shrug, turning the packet and handing it to you. The poem is littered with annotations, underlines, and highlighter marks all over, and you squint for a moment trying to remind yourself of what you remember from the last time you looked at the work. “You read it before? The Waste Land?”
“Uh, yeah, ages ago though. Like back in high school,” murmur, flipping through the pages to jog your memory.
“Why were you reading The Waste Land in high school? Seems like too much, no?”
“Well not everyone was granted the freedom to do as they please with whoever they please,” you tell him, eyes flickering between Joshua’s curious face and the packet in front of you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joshua asks, and his voice is slightly whiny.
“It means that people didn’t want to talk to me so I had to spend my time reading. Even if it was ‘too much,’ or whatever you said.”
“Oh,” Joshua’s voice is quiet. See, you remind yourself, clouded from reality is what Joshua is. “Well I—”
“Forget it. I think I’m going to have to go home and reread The Waste Land if you want me to be of any help. What else do you have to work on, or do you just want to do Chemistry?”
“Uh, sure we can move onto Chemistry,” Joshua replies hastily, tucking the paper back into his folder haphazardly before shoving it into a drawer and pulling out a much thicker notebook. “I kinda need help with a lot of it. Like—I’m sorry I just don’t get it—what the hell is an electrophile and a nucleophiles and why the hell I need to know them for alkanes and—”
“Slow down,” you say, sticking your hand out. You grab the notebook from his desk and skip over the contents before looking back up. “If you want me to do this for you, we’re going to have to start from the basics, okay?”
Joshua gives you a look which tells you he doesn’t think he needs to do that, but you open the notebook to a new page, pulling out a pen. Begrudgingly, he nods and leans his head in to see what you’re writing.
He’s oddly compliant when you ask him to be, despite his jumpy and bubbly personality, and for a fraction of a second, you wonder about his potential. Quickly, you push that thought out of your mind.
It’s late afternoon when you reach the courtyard, smiling at the progress. You told the workers to get started on digging up the pond this morning, and you’re pleased to see that there’s already a large dugout in the century.
“Good work!” you chirp to Jungho, the contractor you talked to over the phone. He seemed nice enough over the phone, but you soon realized within the first time that you two met in person that he was just as standoff-ish as the rest. “But we’re going to need to get the insides patted down and compressed so when we put the water in, the soil won’t just soak it up,” you try to tell him casually.
Jungho points his thumb behind him at some of his men. “Yeah we have a guy for that,” he says gruffly, not even meeting your gaze.
“Thanks … maybe have it finished within a week?”
“Okay. Anything else?” Jungho looks around awkwardly, before adding. “Want us to get the water in there too? Then we can get outta … outta your hair and stuff and don’t have to keep coming back.”
“Uh, no—there’s some lining I want to do with the pond, and I’ve got to do that before there’s water in it. But it’s something I want to do myself, so you can just take care of compressing the soil and I’ll take it from there.”
Jungho gives you a weird look but you brush it off. “Alright. We’ll have it finished by tomorrow,” he finalizes, and with that he turns on his heels and walks back to his workers who you can tell were watching him from the corner of their vision.
“Why are those guys looking at you like that?”
You whip your head around, seeing Joshua standing just a few meters away from you on the pathway coming in from the East entrance. He glances around and finds a marble bench that’s just been made, sitting on the edge casually.
“Joshua, you’ve seen people look at me like that before and I think you know exactly why,” you mutter, walking over to where he sits. Joshua doesn’t respond and instead averts his gaze to the ground.
There’s a stray kitten bouncing around at his feet, and he’s quick to drop to his knees on the pathway and engulf her in his large hands. It would be an endearing sight, you think. Sorta, you guess.
“Whatever. You’re still coming in on Sunday right? My instructor prepared this stupid Chemistry exam for me on Tuesdays and I know you can’t help out on Mondays so I kind of really need you to help me on Sunday so I can prep. So please, please, please—”
“You know I’m gonna come in, so you don’t have to pester me so much about it,” you say with a sigh, putting your folder down and crouching on the ground so you can pet the kitten. She’s cute, with wide slanted eyes and soft brown fur, the wet kitten licks feeling warm against your palm.
“But you put up with it, don’t you?” You roll your eyes but Joshua still grins when you don’t disagree.
“I don’t understand you,” you mutter, truthfully speaking your mind as the kitten rolls around in Joshua’s lap. You smile without thinking, and Joshua carefully watches your usually taut face unravel in front of him.
“Are you kidding me? I’m literally an open book. You know Sunshine, you can find my whole life on Wikipedia.”
You giggle. You fucking giggle at that, and it’s hard to tell who is more surprised between the two of you. “You know that’s not what I meant,” you murmur, struggling to hold back another laugh, the kitten jumping out of his lap to play around on the ground under the gentle hands of you and Joshua.
“Not that I would know. You think I’m stupid anyways.”
“What? No I don’t.”
“Oh my god, please don’t even try to counter that. When I told you I didn’t know why helium was named helium, you looked at me like I was the dumbest person to ever live.”
“Okay that’s only because you say you like Greek mythology! How could you not put that together—it’s so obvious! Helium and Helios sound totally alike, and everyone knows helium is like, one of the most abundant elements in the sun.”
“Maybe you know that. You’re also insanely smart,” Joshua counters.
“Whatever you say. But for the record, I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe a little dense, but that’s it.”
Joshua pouts. “Aren’t those basically the same thing?” You know he’s only being playful, but something about the way he says it makes you think twice. He’s being sweet. So sweet, it feels almost bitter.
“No. You have a smart head, Joshua. Honest. I think you just gotta learn how to use it,” you tell him, more softly this time.
“Thanks Sunshine,” he replies gruffly and you frown, realizing that your attempts to make him feel better haven’t quite worked.
“I’m serious. What? You don’t think I’m serious?” Joshua shakes his head, and you roll your eyes when you pick up the kitten yourself and pull her into your lap.
“You’re mean. So no, I don’t think you’re being serious.”
You gasp, using the hand that isn’t playing with the kitten to place it over your chest dramatically. “I am not mean. I’m just honest. I’m being honest right now.”
“Whatever,” Joshua quips, turning his nose and looking away pettily.
“Okay, are you actually upset?” you groan, cradling the kitten up to your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re more annoyed because you can’t tell if Joshua is upset, or because you might be the reason he’s upset.
“Who knows. Not that you would care.”
“I obviously care, because I’m asking,” you deadpan, letting the kitten roll around in your arms, letting out a squeak of surprise when one of its claws gets caught in the belt of your robe, making a tear in the silk.
Joshua gives you a funny look when he says, “You can be quite pestering when you want to.”
“Congratulations! You now know how I feel.”
“See what I mean! You’re mean. I want the kitten back.”
You clutch the little close to your chest and nuzzle your face into her neck. “No can do. I’m afraid she’s mine until you admit you know I don’t think you’re stupid.”
“Oh my god, is this how it feels when I annoy you?” Joshua grumbles, throwing his head back. “Remind me to never pester you again. Ever.”
“Self awareness is great and all, but like I said, you’re not getting her until you admit it.”
“Fine. I don’t think you think I’m stupid. Happy?”
You hum and shake your head. “Mm, no. Gotta sound more convincing.”
Joshua knits his eyebrows together. “If you’re so insistent on this, then I guess it must be true. I don’t think you think I’m stupid,” he repeats, but his tone is gentler this time.
“Good work.”
Joshua stands tall on a hill. His broad shoulders are sharp with his straightened back and taught jaw. The sky is orange and you watch him from below, the clouds moving slowly above his head in the background.
He’s looking out at something, but you can’t quite tell what. It’s off in the distance, but his eyes are dilated and unwavering for a few long moments.
Wind whistles in your ear, and then the sky grows brighter and brighter until it’s no longer orange and suddenly turning yellow and then white. So white that it hinders your vision and you’re wincing through the light until you realize Joshua is not on the hill anymore.
You look around frantically to no avail—you can’t see anything but white with black spots in your vision and you feel like you’re going blind. And you want to scream but when you open your mouth no sound comes and the blowing of wind grows louder and louder until it sounds like you’re at the beach.
Looking around, you see your legs knee deep in ocean water and you’re no longer hearing the rampage of wind and instead the crashing of waves against rocks. There isn’t a hill anymore, there’s a cliff, but still no sight of Joshua.
It’s still so bright, so bright and you close your eyes tightly again until you feel a shade fall over your figure. A gasp escapes your lips when you see what’s above you.
Wide wings, ornate with white and golden feathers, perched over Joshua’s back as he hovers above you. He’s not looking anywhere else now, only you.
His face glows and then he smiles and you close your eyes one last time but when you open them again, all you see is darkness.
You’ve never been great at remembering dreams. More often than not, you wake up with no remnants of the life you lived in your head the night before, and on the rare occasions that you do happen to recall something, it’s only just random snippets that also hardly make sense.
Last night was no different, although you do wake up with an uneasy feeling, not because of what you dreamed about—you don’t remember that—but because you know you dreamed about Joshua. It’s just the wake up call you need to tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, you’re spending more time with him than you should.
It’s a Saturday morning as you trudge out of bed and to the kitchen, trying to settle the weird feelings that course through your veins when you see your mother brewing a pot of tea. “How’d you sleep?” she asks, not looking up from the boiling water.
Shrugging as you grab a home-grown orange, you respond, “Well enough.”
“Can’t believe they have you going to the palace on the weekends too … I never had to work on Saturdays or Sundays.”
You wonder how she brings up her time at the castle so casually—you don’t know if you’ll ever understand her. “I really don’t have to—I can work on my own schedule basically whenever, as long as I get the courtyard finished by the end of three months.”
“And how’s that going?”
“Behind schedule. Obviously. That’s why I’m heading in again.”
Your mother smiles and walks over, ruffling your hair. “I’m glad you’re working hard on this—I can tell you’re enjoying it, as much as you didn’t want to go there.”
“It’s nice, I guess. I get to be creative, and get paid. Really, getting the money is all I care about,” you tell her casually, taking the peel off the orange and popping a piece into your mouth.
“You don’t talk about it much, but I’m assuming people don’t give you that hard of a time? You always come home fine.”
They do, it just doesn’t happen to be anything you’re not used to. Your mind flashes to Joshua and Seokmin for a moment, and you’re once again reminded of the unnerving fact that you did dream about the former, and you can’t even remember what it was about. “Things are fine.”
You’re three tutoring sessions in with Joshua, and it’s finally the day that you pull out your own copy of The Waste Land. “Oh thank god,” he says with a breath of relief when he sees it. “This paper has been bugging me forever—if we didn’t get started on it soon I might’ve combust.”
“I appreciate the vivid imagery,” you say dryly, “but I really did not need to picture that in my head.”
“Sorry,” Joshua says with a shrug as you sit across from him. “So what’re we gonna do today, Sunshine?”
“Hmm, get through the first part hopefully. We can read it back and forth and talk about it together, so you can take notes. It might be easier that way, so you can get all your thoughts and ideas out, and then it’ll be easier for you to write that paper.”
“Sounds boring.”
“I guess I’ll just pack my stuff and—”
“Okay! Okay! I was just joking. Let’s start, please,” he complies easily, and you smirk as you sit back down.
“Good to hear. Read this part.”
You’re around an hour and a half into the lesson, still working through the first part as Joshua frowns when you finish another stanza.
“Do we have to keep going?” he whines.
“Yes we do. Let’s work with this part now. Read it out for me,” you instruct, pointing out a stanza on your own paper.
“Why—” You give him a look. “—okay fine.”
‘You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;‘They called me the hyacinth girl.’—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could notSpeak, and my eyes failed, I was neitherLiving nor dead, and I knew nothing,Looking into the heart of light, the silence.Oed’ und leer das Meer.
When he’s done, Joshua looks up at you blankly. “If I’m being honest, I have zero clue what this means.”
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’ve said that every time you read a new section, but I know that’s not true, because you literally always come up with something.”
Joshua scrunches up his face and slaps his hands to his cheeks in frustration. “But now I’m being serious! This is making no sense to me—I hate Literature, okay? My brain is dead right now and I don’t think I can do any more Sunshine.”
“We’ve been doing this for less than two hours,” you say bluntly. “Look—you said you like Greek mythology right? Try and draw some connections. Maybe that’ll make this more enjoyable.”
“I hardly think T.S. Elliot could produce anything I enjoy,” Joshua huffs as he tilts the page so he can read it better, “But fine. I still don’t get what about this has anything to do with mytho—oh!”
“Finally! You get it?”
“Hyacinthus!” You nod eagerly, gesturing your hands to tell him to go on. “Uh, it was that story with Apollo. Shit, what was the story again?” He looks up and taps at his chin, but when you open your mouth to help him out, Joshua sticks a hand in front of your face and shakes his head. “No wait, I remember. The one where they were in love but Apollo accidentally killed him when they were playing a game!”
“You’re right. The blood of Hyacinthus was eventually turned into flowers by Apollo to honor his death or something like that. In the context of this poem … the giver of the hyacinth flower is almost like a sign of—”
Joshua snaps his fingers in the air and grins. “Forgiveness!”
“Well, not exactly giving forgiveness, but asking for it.”
“Kind of like … saying you’re sorry?” Joshua smiles brighter when you nod. “Holy shit, maybe I do enjoy T.S. Elliot.”
You roll your eyes and point at his notebook and pen. “Good, now write that down. You are going to have to write about this, remember?”
Joshua pouts, but picks up the pen nevertheless. “Whatever you say Sunshine.”
“Joshua told me to tell you that he thinks T.S. Elliot sucks,” Seokmin says, coming up to you in the cafeteria as you polish off your own tray. It’s a large and grand area—an old ballroom that turned into a commonplace for the workers.
Large mirrors plate the walls, and across from you, you can watch Seokmin’s reflection as he sits down next to you. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at him, “He’s only saying that because I told him to write the paper himself.”
Seokmin furrows his eyebrows as he places a white box, a little larger than the size of your hand, on the table. Glancing around, you catch people in the mirror watching you with wavering gazes before turning away when they find you looking at them.
Huff lightly, you turn your attention back to Seokmin. “What’s this?”
“Joshua told me to give it to you.”
That’s new. Tentatively, you lift the lid a little to peek inside, only finding a haphazard mess of stuffing paper with something purple concealed underneath. “Would it be a smart decision to open it right now?”
“Oh my gosh, it’s not an explosive or anything.”
“You don’t know that!”
Seokmin rolls his eyes himself this time. “Yes I do. I packed it.”
“Ugh, even worse. I’m not opening it if you’re around. That’s embarrassing.”
“Is not! I think that you should—” Seokmin is cut off by the sound of his own phone ringing, cursing under his breath when he sees the caller ID. For a moment, you consider peering over and taking a look, but Seokmin stands up too quickly. “I gotta go for a second. I’ll catch you before you leave!” he calls out when he’s already pushing his chair in and rushing off into the distance.
You laugh at his hurry, wondering what could possibly ensue such nervousness from the boy, but you quickly remind yourself that this is Seokmin and he gets the jitters when he even has to think about being around Mr. Park for more than twenty minutes.
Soon, you start to clean up your area yourself, putting your trays away and throwing away your trash in the weirdly fancy bins they have scattered around the hall. As your lunch break nears its end, you grab the oddly light box, your phone, and make your way back to 77.
The room is empty, safe for Jihoon who’s got his head buried in his laptop, and you think it’s a good time to check what’s inside. If it is an explosive, you’ll just have to apologize to Jihoon in the afterlife.
Opening the lid, those same, crumpled papers lay on top, but this time you notice a little white card in the middle. Pursing your lips, your eyes flicker to your side to see if Jihoon’s watching (he never is, but it doesn’t hurt to check), and when your privacy is confirmed, you flip the paper over.
There’s a message written in purple pen, adorning a handwriting that you can distinctly recognize as Joshua’s.
Thank you for all the help. I really owe you one.
You aren’t quite sure what he’s talking about, and you make a mental note to ask him about it when you see him later. Right now, you rummage through the papers, hands feeling the space beneath them before they land on a smooth layer of fabric.
Confused, you pull it out, only to see it’s a ribbon, much like the one tied around your own waist. Same color, same material, same emblem, the only difference being …
You glance down at your own robes where the ribbon has a small tear at one end from where the kitten had pawed at you. You have to blink a few times to realize what Joshua’s intentions were, and when you do, you can’t help the warm smile that begrudgingly makes its way onto your face.
Quickly, you tug the ends of the ribbon around your waist and let it unravel, taking the new ribbon and tying it just as your mother taught you. It’s the same thing as the one before, yes, but this is different. This is a gift.
Donning Joshua’s (your?) ribbon, you start to clean up your desk space and tuck your old ribbon back into your bag. You forgot to tell Seokmin you’re tutoring Joshua this afternoon, so as you pack up you text him a sincere ‘thank you’ message, and let him know that you might not be able to see him before you go. You don’t get a response, which is slightly odd since Seokmin seems to always be on top of things, but you shrug it off and remind yourself that he’s busy.
Today, you make your way down the smaller halls with a little skip to your step. Joshua showed you this pathway earlier so it’d be easier to get to his study room without being seen; it’s a nice little series of corridors that are a little dimmer and narrower, but still hold the lavish feel you always get walking through the palace.
You can hear the voices of a few people, but it seems quiet, hushed, and somehow a little heated—in other words, caught up in their own world. Being in the castle for almost two months now, you’ve learned to realize what kind of situations need your caution and which ones don’t. This is the latter.
You smile to yourself, smoothing your palms over the new, not-torn silk ribbon around your waist, as you near the second entrance to his study, about to enter another hallway to the final stretch and—shit.
When you turn a corner, your heart stops.
You turn back and run down the corridor. You don’t know if Seokmin saw you, and quite frankly, you don’t care.
It didn’t take you more than a second to put two and two together and suddenly you’re pushed back into your nine year old body—you don’t really know what’s happening or why it’s happening, all you know is that it hurts.
You’re going to have to apologize to Joshua for flaking on him. Surely he’ll understand that you were just a little bit upset by the sight you had to see.
After all, you did just witness Seokmin, quite literally your only real friend in this damn castle, speaking to Advisor Lee, the man who tore your mother’s life down. And now is when everything starts to click, because you realize that Seokmin is Advisor Lee’s son.
Of course he was close with Joshua—he probably grew up on these very castle grounds. Of course they attended the same classes—his father was the King’s advisor and cousin.
It makes sense now, and in your bleary haze as you make your way back to 77, you’re not sure what to do. You rush past a few other staff members murmuring under their breath when they see you, and you usually wouldn’t be bothered by the sight but now you remember that this is the first time you’ve cried since you got here, and it’s all because of that man who started this all in the first place.
As you lock yourself in one of the staff bathrooms, you catch your disheveled appearance and furiously wipe at your cheeks. Fuck. You shouldn’t be crying. You can’t be crying over this, because god knows you did not spend years thickening your skin for it to be cut open like this.
You should’ve known. Should’ve fucking known.
You try to stop your tears, telling yourself that they’re all the same. That you shouldn’t have expected anything more from these people, that you should’ve picked up on how Seokmin was definitely someone important, that you should’ve never fallen for his and Joshua’s sweet games.
“Shit,” you gasp out as a sob rips from your throat, and you clutch the side of the sink as uneasiness bubbles up in your stomach and spreads through your limbs until you’re trembling.
Maybe you let him get so close because you thought he saw you for something else. Maybe you believed that he saw you as more than a pity project. More than someone who was defined by their past.
Joshua and Seokmin—they knew. They knew everything this whole damn time.
And now you’re angry—you’re so fucking angry. Tugging at your hair, ripping up your clothes, and thrashing your limbs around kind of angry. The kind of anger that poisons your bones and makes your body ache until you can’t take it anymore. The kind of anger that wraps its hand around your throat and squeezes the air out of you until you can do nothing but relent. The kind of anger that has you looking at yourself in the mirror and thinking, what the fuck.
The worst thing is you can’t even be mad at him. You want to be mad at him and you want to be mad at Joshua. You want to have the will to go up to them and slap the smiles off their faces because how dare Seokmin be the own flesh and blood of Advisor Lee, and how dare Joshua know and not have the guts to tell you.
Because after everything, Seokmin and Joshua were your friends and—fuck—they were some damn good friends. Your best friends, maybe, if you ever had the liberty to even know what that means.
And it wasn’t because they were overly nice, or excessively cheery, or because Seokim was always grinning and Joshua was always smirking, but because when they talked to you, they were talking to you, and not some shell of your past.
Finally, now, when you press your face into your hands as your last attempt to calm yourself down, you feel like you can breathe. You’re not sure where your head is at, and something tells you that it’s gonna take a damn long time to figure it out.
You’re a little lost.
You were just trying to get to the South end entrance of the courtyard but you must have taken a wrong turn or something because you’re walking down a corridor you’ve quite literally never seen before. It’s similar to the hallways of the rest of the palace, but it’s slightly taller and a bit more narrow, and the workers walking through wear faces that you aren’t familiar with. You’re a little nervous about where your feet are taking you, and you consider just turning around and retracing your steps when you hear a voice.
Seokmin’s voice is loud when he calls your name, and you press your lips together tightly when it rings in your ears. “What are you doing here? You usually don’t come down to the South e—” he starts to say when walks up to you from a corridor to your left.
“Nothing,” you reply briskly, turning on your heel so your back is pretty much facing him. “I was just leaving actually.”
“What—hey! Slow down! Where’re you going?”
“77,” you mutter under your breath as you speed up your pace.
“Slow down!”
You don’t relent. “Seokmin, don’t you have stuff to do right now instead of following me around?” You can’t see the look on his face, but you can only imagine it’s one of defeat.
“I—” his voice is quieter this time, “Okay.”
The footsteps that were one following you die out, and as you browse the corners of your vision, you conclude that he’s finally left you alone. You should feel relieved—happy that he’s not bothering you now—but sometimes uneasy churns inside of you, and you aren’t sure what it is.
The rest of your day goes as it usually does in a palace. You tend to your work and as it hits late afternoon, you start making your way to Joshua’s study. Once again, you’re not sure where your head is at.
“Is everything alright?” Joshua asks you the second you walk in. “Seokmin told me you looked upset and wouldn’t talk to him so I—”
You inhale deeply before, putting your hands up in a stopping motion. “I can’t tutor you anymore.”
Joshua looks at you weirdly. “What, why?”
“Or talk to you,” you add.
“What—”
“Just—just don’t talk to me. Or ask me to tutor you. Or ask for my help, or ask to help me—you know what just like—I dunno, stay away from me.”
“Sunshine, where is this coming from?” Joshua pinches the bridge of his nose, and you don’t think he’s understanding the weight of his words.
“Why do you even talk to me?” you snap. “Like seriously, if you can bother any worker in the castle, why does it have to be me?”
Hurt flashes in Joshua’s face for hardly a second before he frowns deeply. “I—what’s going on?”
“Do you and Seokmin think this is funny? Being nice to me like—” You throw your hands in the air. “—like I’m some kind of joke?”
“What? No, Sunshine, what are you even talking about?”
“I know who Seokmin’s dad is.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” you scoff. “So if Seokmin still wants to know why I don’t feel like talking to him, maybe consider telling him that I’m not interested in being around someone whose father is literally the reason me and my mom’s lives have been so fucked up.”
Joshua winces at the last statement. You’ve been irritated with him, annoyed with him, and all that petty stuff, sure, but this is different.
“Seokmin isn’t like that, okay? He isn’t—you know—like that.”
“And how would you know?” you snap. “Prince Joshua, what do you know about having people be, quote unquote, above you? You have everything in front of you, and when people look at you and Seokmin it’s not ‘cause of some fucked up scandal which pinned your mom as the kingdom’s slut of the century, it’s ‘cause they literally bow down to your presence and—”
Something tells you to stop yourself. Maybe it’s the fact that you know you’re not actually angry at them. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re so fucking tired of being angry all the time that you can’t take it anymore. Maybe it’s the fact that when you finally look him in the eye, Joshua looks sad.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says meekly. “Seokmin should—we should’ve let you know earlier. I promise we didn’t be your friend just ‘cause of that,” he rambles. “I mean obviously we knew about it but we didn’t wanna bring it up because everyone was bringing it up and—I’m sorry. You know Seokmin isn’t like that.”
“And you?” you quip, but you know your retorts hold no weight. “How do I know you aren’t like—like that.”
Joshua falters and you watch him gulp. He looks tired and his lips are red from how hard he’s been chewing on them as you speak. “Y-you know,” his voice is quiet, “You know I’m not.”
You have your answer before you even have to think about it, but you pause for a few moments, waiting to respond. All that comes out is a shallow breath as you look down and squeeze your eyes shut. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I just—” You sigh weakly. “I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.” Joshua doesn’t respond—he knows you’re thinking.
You wonder what to do with yourself. You’re not angry. Not sad either. Uneasy? Maybe. It’s the uncertainty of it all. You don’t understand why you’re not mad, and you don’t understand why you want to forgive him so easily, but you’re starting to realize that you should stop trying to understand the things that might never make sense.
Finally, you nod. “It’s fine.”
“Sorry again. I guess we didn’t wanna make that whole thing all about you. Because like, you’re you, and whatever happened is separate.”
You purse your lips and nod. “Thank you.”
“Was that sarcasm?”
You glare at him. “Dipshit, no it wasn’t!”
“I’m taking this as a sign that you’re feeling better. Am I correct?”
You bite back a smile and shrug. “I guess.”
“Cool, ‘cause I think you’d like to know that my mom stopped by the courtyard the other day.”
“Oh yeah? What’d she say? This is all for her isn’t it—hopefully she liked it.”
“Yeah no, she said it was great. She thought the patterns of the pathway were cool and so she asked me if I could figure out why they were designed like that and I said no. By the way, why did you design them like that?”
“There’s this song I like. It’s called Isohel, and when I first heard it, I liked it a lot,” you explain. “Searched up what it means and stuff and then a few weeks later I was taking some filler class for the credits and my professor goes on some tangent about god-knows-what, and somehow he brings up pictures of an isohel map. An isohel—it’s basically a line which maps out the places that have the same duration of sunshine. Pretty cool, I think.”
“Is that what the pathways are? Are they—what is it—an isohel?”
“Mhm. On an isohel map, they’re not always just lines—they come around full circle sometimes so it looks like these funky, squiggly ovals sometimes,” you ramble. “So I took one of those circle-ish things and broke it up and pieced it together like a pathway.”
“That’s really smart.” Joshua pauses. “You’re really smart.”
It’s not the first time someone’s told you that. Fuck, it’s not even the first time Joshua’s told you that, but it feels different now. He means it, you know it in your bones.
“I-I dunno,” you stammer. “I guess. It just relates to the theme of the sun. My mom taught me about it when I was younger—I loved the sun.”
“So that’s what the theme of your courtyard is? Me and Seokmin have been betting on that for ages.”
You scoff, “You guys bet on that? Seriously, do you have nothing better to do with your time?”
“Clearly not!” he shoots back, causing you to laugh. “Are you really feeling better now?” Joshua asks sincerely, and when you smile and nod, he grins. “Hey, I just realized you talked to me about your feelings—”
“Don’t mention it,” you snap gruffly, crossing your arms over your chest.
Joshua clicks his tongue and chuckles. “There’s the Sunshine I know.”
It’s the next day when you walk into 77. Jihoon’s desk is empty, Mr. Park is just about to leave as you enter and you bow to him quickly as you settle in your desk. Seokmin is in the corner watering the yarrows, seeming to not have noticed you yet.
You watch him closely, smiling softly when you notice he stops before he can overwater them. Quietly, you set your stuff down and Seokmin begins to talk. “Oh, Jihoon, Mr. Park was just looking for you—oh,” he cuts himself flat when he turns around and sees you.
You’re not sure what to do, because Joshua didn’t exactly tell you if he told Seokmin about your conversation and what not, but the look on Seokmin’s face is telling you that he’s just a little behind on the news.
“Hey,” you say casually, throwing a hand up to wave at him as you set your bag down on your desk. Seokmin opens his mouth and then closes it a few times, as if he’s searching for the right words but they don’t quite come out for a few moments.
“Joshua told me that, uh, you know that—” He pauses and glances at you, trying to watch for any hints of anger on your face, but none comes.
“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a shrug, and Seokmin has to blink twice because he’s not sure he heard you correctly at all.
“W-what?”
You narrow your eyes at him. “I said don’t worry about it,” you state again, and then add more softly, “You’re not your father. I get it.” You get it more than anyone. “Anyways, did you get the workers to start planting the hyacinths?”
Seokmin shakes his head once to snap himself back into reality and then shakes his head again a second time. “Wait no, I mean—wait, yes! I mean yes! I did do that—I should go remind them to get on that,” he rambles quickly, clearly a little flustered.
You chuckle. “It’s good to see you’ve been watering the yarrows properly now. Mr. Park finally beat it into you?”
“Y-yeah I guess. I’ve been getting better at remembering them all,” he tells you, starting to fall into a more casual tone. It’s normal, you think. Nice and normal. Nice and normal and just what you need.
“What are you doing here?”
When you turn around with your bag slung over your shoulder, you’re surprised to see Joshua. “Um, working?”
“It’s a Saturday night,” he states, lips pinched together in a funny expression, like he can’t figure you out.
“I think I know that,” you chuckle. “I didn’t know if I could come in on Monday—I need to stop by the university campus for something—so I just came in today to take care of some stuff.”
“You’re a dedicated worker huh … you should just work here forever—the pay is great.”
“Mm, I’m not sure about that,” you say honestly as you look him up and down. It strikes you now that Prince Joshua truly is a handsome man. Dark velvety robes that are even more grand than the ones you’re used to seeing on him, well fit dress pants against his legs and shiny leather shoes that seem to fit his image perfectly. “Anyways, I heard there’s a ball tonight? You’re not going?”
Joshua shrugs as he turns around and starts walking, waving you over to follow him. “C’mon follow me.” You contemplate your choices before telling yourself, what’s the worst that could happen, scurrying on after him. “I left—it got boring, so I got about twenty-five minutes before someone calls me and asks me to come back. My bets are on it being Seokmin ‘cause he’ll get bored.”
You snort at that as the familiarity of this route starts to sink in. “Hey are we going to my …”
“Yeah. Seokmin told me you finally got it named, and I want to check it out.”
“Uh, yeah,” you murmur bashfully—you hadn’t expected Joshua to be that interested in it. You walk through the empty corridors to the hallway that has the North entrance of the courtyard, and Joshua cranes his neck up to look at the golden plaque that rests above the entrance.
“Sol Invictus, huh.”
You nudge him on the side playfully. “You know what that means, Mr. Latin Genius?”
“Of course I do,” he retorts with a roll of his eyes. “Sun god, or whatever,”
“God of sun, but you were close enough I guess,” you mutter as you walk through. The courtyard looks different in the night. It’s nearly done, and as the little warm lights you had placed in intervals along the path light up the scene, you can’t help but feel overwhelming pride with how well you’ve done.
“C’mon, let’s sit here,” he says, pointing down at the circular patch of grass that surrounds the pond in the middle. Joshua sits down first and you watch him carefully before quickly sitting next to him as well.
The grass is cool under your skin, but as a comfortable silence envelopes you and Joshua, you start to think you really don’t mind.
“I think lots of people think I’m stupid or something,” Joshua finally speaks up, and some uncomfortable feeling boils in your stomach at the words. “You know, the only thing people usually compliment me on is my fencing, really. And fencing is one of those things that, if you’ve been doing it as long as I have, you sort of gotta be good at it.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid.”
“I know. Thank you.” There’s a silence as he reaches over the stone lining of the hyacinth beds, plucking a few from the shrubs.
“Joshua!” you complain. “I had those planted just last week.”
“It’s fine,” he mumbles, handing the two he plucked to you. You don’t hesitate to keep your palms open for him, his fingers brushing over the skin of your arms as he does so. You rub the smooth petals between your fingers and a thumb, bringing one close to your chest before taking the other and handing it back to Joshua.
He looks at you, eyes clearly confused, but holds it to his own chest anyways. With your hands behind you on the ground, you lean back and look up at the sky, letting your shoulders relax. The night air pinches at your skin, but the soft fabric of Joshua tuxedo is warm as it brushes next to you.
“Why’d you name this pond Eridenus?” Joshua asks, pointing at the plaque by the pebble lining which spells out the word in fancy lettering.
“You don’t know where it’s from?” you sigh, lifting your head so you can shoot him a stern look. Joshua rolls his eyes and nudges your cheek with his shoulder, motioning you to lean back down at him.
“You know I’m a rascal—I’m forgetful. Tell me what it means.”
“It’s confirmed: you’re a fake mythology fan. I’m suing the universe.” Joshua chuckles and pokes you, egging you to go on. “Do you remember the story of Phaethon?”
Joshua hums. “Uh, son of Helios. Didn’t believe that he was his son. Asked to ride his carriage but lost control and almost burned the Earth?”
You shrug. “Well that’s most of it I guess. He’s racing down to the earth and everything is chaos—rivers boiling, forests on fires, people turning to ash—and so Zeus throws his bolt at him and kills Phaethon right in the sky.”
“Kind of like the story of Icarus. But the opposite I guess. Instead of getting too close to the sun, he brings the sun too close to the earth.”
“You could put it like that. They have the same meaning, I think. But anyways, Phaethon falls out of the carriage and as he dies he falls into this river called Eridenus.”
“Oh.” Joshua’s voice is quiet as you both watch the gentle water lap back and forth in front of you. The small waves hitting the stone barriers of the pound is the only sound that permeates the night sky, besides your shared breaths and the occasional whistling of wind.
“It’s kind of like—” You.
“Don’t say it.” Joshua’s words are crisp and short, and he doesn’t look at you. You want to say the words—I’m sorry—but they get stuck in your throat and ripple through your limbs as you scoot closer to him.
“Anyways,” Joshua finally says, but the word is only followed with silence.
“I think you need to get back to the ball,” you tell him quietly, lifting your head from his shoulder. Your skin burns from where it was previously pressed against him and you silently chide yourself for letting yourself get so close.
Joshua finally turns to face you, and you’re surprised when he chuckles. “So eager to get rid of me, Sunshine?” You scoff, pushing him away gently.
“I-I just don’t want you to get in trouble!” you stutter as you push yourself off the ground, Joshua following suit.
“Aw, so you care about me?” His eyes crinkle up in that familiar way when he says it and you can’t help the childish grin that makes its way onto your face.
“More like I don’t want you to complain to me about how you got scolded!”
“Mm, sounds a lot like you care about me,” Joshua counters, returning your smile with one of his own. You roll your eyes and carefully skip in your dress toward the exit on the North end of the courtyard.
When you almost trip over your robes, Joshua catches you and his rough palm presses against the small of your back as you regain your balance, the two of you giggling together as he drops you off at 77 before heading to the ballroom.
It’s almost laughable how happy you are. Silly you for forgetting that fairytales don’t happen in real life.
The walls look brighter, the chandeliers that hang from the ceiling seem to glitter a bit more, the ground seems smoother; you enjoy walking through the castle in a way you never thought you could.
It’s a normal evening and you’re nearing the end of your time at the castle, but you choose to ignore the odd feeling you get when you think too long about leaving this place. There’s still more work to get done, and you don’t want to spend your time focusing on things that you know will only distract you.
You’re in the middle of Sol Invictus today, looking through a paper and phone as you go through some old plans and checklists, trying to figure out if there is anything you should do before you pack your bags and head towards Joshua’s study.
Just as you’re about to unclick your pen and tuck your things away and head back to 77, someone speaks to you from behind.
“A lovely courtyard we have here.” You know this voice. Everyone knows this voice.
Your blood runs cold as you turn around and face the King, neck craning down immediately as you bow down, stepping away while you hold your hands behind your back.
“G-good evening sir,” you stutter, almost tripping over the stone of your own pathways when you stand up and straighten your back. It’s your first time in years seeing him in person, and you tell yourself as your stomach churns that this was bound to happen at some point.
“Care to tell me about what you’ve got going on here?” he asks, walking around the little stone circle that surrounds Eridenus. “You’re the head of the project, is that right?”
“Yes sir,” you reply quickly, bowing again slightly when he finally goes full circle stopping next to you. His hands are behind his back as you watch him look over the almost complete fields of flowers. “I—uh—it’s called Sol Invictus,” you say. “The—”
“God of Sun.”
“Y-yes sir. Apollo and Helios,” you begin to explain. “Which is why I’ve used these flowers—they’re from one of Apollo’s love stories. They’re quite beautiful, if you ask me, and they fit the kingdom’s colors well.”
The King hums in response. “That’s interesting,” he finally tells you, looking down at Eridenus in front of you. You follow his gaze, staring down at the clear water as you feel your heart rise to your throat in anticipation. You don’t really know what you expect, but if you were preparing yourself for anything, it wasn’t the King saying, “It’s my understanding that you talk to Prince regularly, is that right?”
Your breath hitches in your throat and lodges there along with your heart. “Well, I wouldn’t say—”
“I was speaking to Mr. Park just yesterday.” Oh. “You seem to be a very smart, professional young lady, and it shows in your work.” This can’t be good. “However, I am obligated to remind you: there are boundaries within these walls between the family and its staff.”
“Of course sir. I understand.”
The King watches you carefully, and just when you think he's done, he continues. “There are guards around the castle at all times. there isn't much they miss, I’m sure you know.” This isn't good. This really isn't good.
“It's quite impressive,” you agree, thumbs pressed against each other behind your back. You hear the king take a deep breath, and you wonder if he sucked the air out of you doing so.
"I've heard the pond here is named Eridenus.”
"Y-yes sir."
"Interesting," he murmurs. "Phaeton asked for a bit more than he could handle, didn’t he?" the King chuckles but you hardly hear it over the way your heart pounds. "Let mistakes be learned from, alright?"
You feel your knuckle might buckle. Is this how your mother felt? All those years ago?
The King’s words aren’t nearly as harsh as the advisor who berated your mother, but still, your body sways—you can’t tell if it’s all in your head with all the thoughts that race through, or if it’s the sheer weight of his words that has you almost stumbling.
“It was good to meet you. I’ve enjoyed what you’ve done with this space,” he comments finally, and you step away to face him
“The pleasure was mine, sir,” you bid, bowing as he turns and walks back to his assistants who whisk him away. You watch the King fade into the distance and disappear to the North end.
He spoke to you for a reason, and the King was right. You are smart. You are smart and professional, and tonight, you know exactly what you must do.
“We need to talk,” you state firmly, closing the door behind you in Joshua’s study. You’re supposed to tutor him tonight, and he doesn’t look up at you as he writes away in his notebook, a smirk making its way onto his face as he starts to speak.
“That’s all I get, Sunshine? No ‘hi,’ ‘hello,’ ‘how are you?’” he teases, but then he looks up at you and catches the grim look on your face and the sound of him dropping his pen echoes through the room. “What is it?”
He stands up so quickly that his chair falls down, but Joshua pays no mind to it, his hands gripping the end of his table as his eyes bore into yours. “What is it?” he asks again and this time he’s hissing it. You know he doesn’t mean to be harsh, but your heart sinks even further than you could imagine.
“Joshua,” and when you say it, your voice is meek. You shouldn’t cry over this—fuck, you hate crying, especially if it’s because of his people. You’ve done more than enough crying over them in your life—you can’t cry over any of this anymore.
“Sunshine, what’s going on? You’re scaring me,” Joshua eggs you on worriedly, moving away from his desk so he can walk over to you. One hand cups your cheek, and you’re struck by the realization that this is the most intimate he’s ever been with you.
What unfortunate circumstances, you think.
“Your father,” you say, having half a mind to push his hand away from your face, but you keep it there because you don’t think you’ll have the will to keep on talking if he’s not touching you.
“What about him?” Joshua asks hastily, grip on your jaw tightening.
“He knows, Joshua, he knows.”
“What are you talking about?” Joshua furrows his eyebrows and asks the question but there’s that voice in his head telling him that he already knows the answer.
“A guard saw us at the courtyard and—”
“We didn’t even do anything,” Joshua tries to protest and with just one look at his face, you can tell he’s trying to figure out ways to rebut whatever that stupid guard saw that night.
“Joshua, you know we can’t do anything about this,” you say exasperatedly, your voice a little louder now that you clutch the elbow of his arm that’s holding your face. “I overheard him talking to Mr. Park.”
Joshua’s eyes widen. “Mr. Park knows? What about your job? Are you going to get to finish the project? Are you—”
“Joshua,” you choke out, and for once you cannot stop your tears. “I don’t care about my goddamn project, I care about you.”
“You love that courtyard,” Joshua argues, and you wince at the way he’s still thinking about that damn courtyard. You brush his hand off of you and for a second it looks like his heart has just broken in two, but then you reach for his face and hold his cheeks with your own two hands.
His skin is smooth and supple with the light grain of stubble that itches against your palm near the underside of your jaw. “Joshua,” you whisper, and it’s now that you feel the warm drops of water hit your skin. Joshua is crying and you don’t think you’ve seen anything that saddens you more. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” you beg, fruitlessly wiping away his tears as he silently cries into your hands.
“Why’re you acting like this is the end?” he hiccups and he must hate the sound because he slaps a hand over his mouth and buries his face into it.
“Joshua, no,” you murmur and pull him into you so that his hands can fall and you can cradle his head into your neck, letting your own tears drip onto the silk of his shirt. “It’s not the end,” you try to reason, but he pulls his head away to look down at you with glassy eyes.
“You—you’re lying to me,” Joshua says harshly.
“What are you talking about, I don’t—”
“I know you. I-I—fuck—I fucking know you,” he spits out, causing you to falter backwards. “Why do you think we can’t work this out? I’m the prince, I can—I can change everything and we can be together—”
“Your father —”
“Who gives a fuck, I’ll be king soon anyways and—”
“What if he does something?! What if he revokes your title?”
You’re met with stillness and you think Joshua might just comply with your silent plan but suddenly he’s shaking his head vigorously.
“Okay, then let him. I don’t care about being prince, I—”
“You can’t throw your life away Joshua, not for me!” you protest, holding his face again so you can focus his gaze on yours.
“It’s my life—why, why not?”
“Because I love you. And you can’t sacrifice this—this amazing life—for me!”
“I-I can’t—I don’t,” he stumbles and searches for words as tears fall from his lashes and roll down your hands, your wrists, your arms, “—can’t do it, not without you.”
“You’ve been doing it for years, Joshua, you’ll learn,” you tell him, using one hand to grip his cheek, the other to wipe away at your own.
“You don’t love me,” he chokes out. “You—you wouldn’t do this to me if you loved me.”
“Don’t say that, please.” You press your forehead against his and close your eyes because you can’t bear to look at his tear-streaked cheeks any longer. It’s quiet for a moment, and you can’t help but think that this is the calm before the storm.
“We’ll work it out,” Joshua finally whispers, pulling his head back and cradling the back of your neck with his hands. You don’t say anything, and Joshua doesn’t give you the chance anyway. “Let me have you,” he begs. “We’ll work everything out and it’ll be okay,” he says over a strangled sob, “Just—just be with me tonight.”
And so when you nod, he wipes his tears and pokes his head out of the study to make sure the corridor is empty before tugging your wrist and pulling you to his room. It’s big and grand, just as you’d expect for the prince but Joshua doesn’t want you to look at the intricate walls or the tall ceilings or the golden furniture.
Joshua makes you focus on his burning touch and lets you explore his mouth, his body. And stripped, your bodies are so hot and with wet lips against sheen skin, you feel you might melt into each other’s bones.
Teeth against teeth, nails scraping against skin so hard it digs into the muscle, bruising holds, and sloppy kisses—the feeling is so intense and it crashes onto you and Joshua so hard that you have no other choice but to grip onto each other as you would a lifeline.
And your bodies move so languidly through the sheets, like waves against a shore, or like the wind whistling through the air, until you're trembling and drifting off in each others’ arms.
It would have been perfect. Perfect, if only Joshua had woken up and you were next to him.
Joshua is lost.
After a frantic hour of running around the palace, asking if anyone had seen you, looking for Seokmin to see if he had any answers, Joshua finds himself in the middle of Sol Invictus. And he racks his brain for answers, for a smidge of anything that gives him a reasonable explanation as to why you weren’t in his arms this morning.
Joshua is lost.
He’s staring at the ground now, and all Joshua can wonder is if it was all a dream. If that moment you both looked out his glass window at the stars before you kissed him on his bed was just a figment of his imagination.
He wonders if you actually did thread your soft fingers through his messy hair and hold him close as both hit your peaks together, and he wonders if your lips really did ghost over his skin as he drifted off into sleep.
Joshua almost doesn’t feel Advisor Lee’s hand on his shoulder. He only hears his voice, really, and when he does, the sound grates against his ears.
“She’s gone.” Advisor Lee’s voice has always been harsh, and Joshua wonders how the same man could’ve produced something—someone—as lovely as Seokmin.
“What are you talking about?” Joshua is good at feigning ignorance, but his voice still quivers.
“I know. Your father and mother know too.”
Joshua is lost.
Joshua’s eyes snap up and suddenly his hands are at Advisor Lee’s collar. When the older man doesn’t seem surprised, Joshua sags. “What the fuck do you know. What—” He inhales sharply as he lets go and steps back, inching closer to Eridenus. “—what did you do to her?”
“She left herself.”
“What are—” Joshua heaves. “What?”
He’s doing it before he even realizes it. Stumbling toward Eridenus with his lungs and heart mushed together so tight he’s got a hole in his chest, Joshua steps over the stone lining and crashes into the shallow water.
Seokmin’s face pales when he walks in on the scene. Coming into the courtyard from the South end, he sees Joshua’s figure before he even recognizes it’s him.
That’s not Joshua, he thinks as he watches his father stand in front of Eridenus where the prince sits. That’s not Joshua.
Joshua’s shoulders are always sharp and his eyes are bright. Joshua’s smile is full and his hands are always ready to love.
This isn’t Joshua, and Seokmin feels it in his gut when he approaches Eridenus.
Joshua sits in the middle of the pond. His knees are bent and the cold water stops at the middle of his chest, leaving the upper third of his body dry. His royal coat and velvet pants, his polished shoes and silk button up, are submerged and rub against the algae coated rocks on the bottom of Eridenus.
Advisor Lee doesn’t speak as Seokmin stands next to him, Eridenus in front of the two with the prince in the middle. Joshua doesn’t say a thing. In fact, it seems like he doesn’t even know Seokmin is here now. His neck is tilted down and he stares at his soaked slacks blankly.
Seokmin is stunned.
This can’t be Joshua, because Joshua’s shoulders are always sharp but now they are hunched over and hardly moving, even as he breathes short breaths through his pale lips.
This can’t be Joshua, because Joshua’s eyes are always bright but now they are dull and dead. Seokmin knows Joshua’s eyes are always bright, but he failed to realize what exactly it was that was lighting them up.
Seokmin thought it was the sun but he was wrong, because even now, as Joshua sits under broad daylight, he is still and his eyes are dull.
Two weeks since you’ve seen Joshua’s face and you miss his smile.
You miss his smile, the one that crinkles up all the way to his eyes when he laughs at one of your snarky comments. The one that shines his teeth and the one that seemed to never leave your sight when you were with him.
You miss his smile, but his laugh still rings in your ear, early in the mornings when you blink awake and late in the nights when you gasp in hearty breaths and try not to cry. When you take the walk through the city to your work at Mr. Min’s bookshop, the ringing of the street vendors’ bells are bright and cheery, and sometimes you can hear Joshua’s laugh in the mix.
One month since Joshua last looked you in the eye and he wishes he didn’t know why you left. He wishes he was oblivious, because then he could be angry at you—he could have a reason to forget, to move on, to stop loving you.
Joshua knows why you left and it hurts more than anything because this is nothing like a betrayal at all. You left because you love him, and Joshua cannot dispute that—not now, not ever.
Sometimes he walks through Sol Invictus and plucks a hyacinth, letting it blow off into the wind. He hopes you’ll find the lost petals one day.
Two months since you’ve been in the castle and your life is normal. Well, as normal as it can get for you.
Your first semester of the new year started a few days ago, and you’ve since moved into an apartment near your campus. Your mother thinks it’ll be good for you, and you understand her sentiment but you don’t think she understands.
Ironic, you think. You’ve gone full circle, really. Maybe it does run in your blood, like all the whispers said.
You realize you’re okay with that. Maybe you made a mistake with Joshua, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you almost royally fucked up your reputation more than it already was (thankfully, the Royal Counsel was better at keeping it under the wraps this time), maybe no one cares. Maybe your life is a little bit more messed up now, but again—you’re okay with that.
You miss Joshua. You don’t think you’ll ever stop missing him. You’re also okay with that. You’re starting to realize that you’re okay with pretty much anything when it comes to Joshua. And once again, you’re okay with that.
Six months since he’s seen you and Joshua’s chest aches. Partly because he was distracted during fencing and took a jab straight in the middle but mostly because he misses you.
He stands on the balcony of the royal dining hall, waiting for lunch to be served as he looks over the palace and the kingdom that spread beyond. Joshua sees the tall buildings, the rows of houses, and the infamous Hong University that lay in the middle of the commontown around the hill the castle sits on, and he wonders.
You told him you’d be taking an astronomy class this semester, which should have started a month ago. Joshua is old enough and smart enough to know that collegiate astronomy is more than just the moon and the sun and the pretty little dots that button the sky, but still, he wonders.
The sun and its sunlight, rotations and revolutions.
Will you think about him?
Joshua doesn’t need to wonder—he knows.
The sun is bright today and even though it’s winter, the clouds are nowhere to be seen. It’s a bit of a rare occurrence for the cold months, but Joshua doesn’t mind. When he looks at the blue sky and briefly glances at the sun, his shadow on the stone floor, the reflection of light against the railing, Joshua breathes in the chilly air, filling his lungs deeply.
He knows.
Eight months and you still hear Joshua’s laugh.
You hear it when wind whistles in your ear as you walk to a flower shop to buy a pot. You hear it when you look up at the sun and imagine you’re in the middle of Sol Invictus. You hear it when you crouch down on your balcony, placing the little hyacinth into the pot and packing soil around the base.
You miss Joshua, you miss his smile, and more than anything, you miss his laugh. Right now, as you bathe in the memories of a man so far yet so close, you realize that you can miss him all you want, but you won’t forget. You can’t ever forget.
Ten months later and Joshua’s chest still aches, but he’s okay with that.
He sucks in heavy breaths as his lungs search for air on the fencing match, his trainer leaving the room, leaving Joshua after his request to take a break. Through the rush of blood in his ears, Joshua hardly hears the door behind him open.
“Mingyu told me you’ve been struggling with fencing recently,” his mother says, approaching him. Joshua shuffles in his fencing gear, throwing his helmet to the side.
“I’ve just hit a stump.”
“Something tells me this is more than just a stump,” she inquires as Joshua kicks off his boots.
Joshua scoffs, “What makes you say that?”
“Joshua, what’s wrong?”
He pauses, about to pull off his gloves when he looks up at the Queen. “Everyone in the Royal Counsel knows. I’m sure you know too.”
His mother sighs heavily when he stands up, and she follows him out the training room and toward the Residency Quart. There’s a silence that gaps the mother and son—not that Joshua isn’t used to it. He still smiles and grins, he hugs and he bows, and oftentimes it is genuine, but there’s a silence that always follows. A silence that he never forgets.
A silence he holds when he watches the same kitten you held cross his path when he walks through Sol Invictus, slightly bigger but just as nimble and heart warming. A silence he holds when his eyes gloss over the set of Percy Jackson books in the shelves of his room. A silence he holds when he sinks into his covers and presses his nose to the sheets, wondering if he’ll ever be able to taste your skin on his tongue again.
“I won’t ever understand what went on between you two,” his mother finally says.
“There isn’t anything for you to understand,” Joshua tells her, heading towards his room, but his mother stops him and he narrows his eyes. “What? I felt bad for her, alright? When I saw her all those years ago when it all happened out in the gardens—”
“Joshua, what are you talking about?”
“That’s what you want to know, right? Why I talked to her? Why I—I love her?” His mother gives him a stern look, but Joshua doesn’t relent. He’s starting to realize he’s been too comfortable with this silence. “I never asked you to understand it, but I’ll tell you anyway. Maybe because I pitied her or felt sorry for her or all the same stuff, and maybe I didn’t think she deserved to be ostracized for something she never did but—whatever. I’m not asking you to understand, but I am asking you to leave it alone.”
“You’re my son, Joshua.”
The Queen is Joshua’s mother and she doesn’t understand. She may never understand, and Joshua is okay with that because if he’s being honest, he doesn't think anyone will ever understand. He’s okay with that too.
You will understand, and for him, that’s enough.
You get two letters from the Royal Counsel in your lifetime. You received the first over a year ago—the one you opened with Mr. Min standing across from you in his little bookstore under dingy lights and over the dusty counter. The one you crumpled up and tossed into the dustbin without as much as a second though. The one that led you down a long, winding path which brought you to Joshua.
You receive the second now, standing in your apartment as you look down, except this time you aren’t staring at a paper, you’re staring at the screen of your laptop. You giggle quietly to yourself; Joshua must have taken the Royal Counsel up on still sending letters.
You’ve only looked at the subject of the email so far. It’s got your name and the word “request” written in bold, and you wonder what they want.
Glossing over the text, a wave of nostalgia washes over you. “The Hong Royal Counsel wishes to find you well, as we present a request.” Same shit, huh? “You will have the opportunity to lead a project as you please and earn a notable compensation in payment for your efforts.” Yeah, pretty much.
It’s the same thing, you realize. They want you back—for what, you aren’t sure, but you have a feeling that it doesn’t really matter. Because signed, at the bottom of the email isn’t the usual, “Hong Royal Counsel,” but instead is, “Hong Royal Family.”
The little sun emblem sits below the signatures of the King and Queen, and you press your eyes shut and hold the screen close to your chest, silently praying under your breath that is not a dream.
You don’t know what happened, don’t know what Joshua told them, but to be frank, you don’t care. You’re smart enough to read between the lines.
I don’t understand, they're telling you, But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.
It’s your first day at the castle. Well, your second first day.
When you park your car at the base of the hill, you smile down at the silk over your waist. You abandoned the new ribbon sent to you by the Court, instead donning the one that came to you in a little white box ten months ago. Sometimes, when you hold it close enough, you still think you can smell Joshua’s skin.
You wonder how long you’ll have to wait for him, but as you look up at the sky, you have your answer.
Something speaks to you when you return to 77. Mr. Park is still gruff and cranky but you swear you see the peek-a-boo of a smile on his lips when you walk in. Jihoon’s there too, he greets you regularly.
And of course there’s Seokmin who is hugging you so tight, it reminds you that he is a full grown man and not a child trapped in a large body. You think he almost cries when he laughs with you about how he almost killed the yarrows again (but he brought them back to life! Trust!), and then he beams and tells you that you gotta check out Sol Invictus.
It’s beautiful.
Bright hyacinths that line from east to west and your heart is happy because Seokmin told you he’d get everyone to finish planting them and he did. The purple petals let wind whistle through its stems and leaves, the rustling echoing off the walls of the castle that surround Sol Invictus.
The water of Eridenus gleams under the sun, the stone of your pathways glows brightly, and as your eyes flicker around, you notice something new. In each corner field of Sol Invictus, sits a medium sized sculpture, each of a pegasus but all slightly different in pose and manner.
And then you see him, his back facing you, standing in front of one of the statues that sits in one of the fields on the west end.
Walk the line.
Tracing the pathways—your pathway—from East to West with your shoes clacking their short heels against the tiles—you know he can hear you, but still, he doesn’t move. His hands are neatly holding each other behind his back as his neck tilts slightly upward to stare up at the pegasus.
“Aethon, Aeos, Pyrois, and Phlegon,” Joshua says when you finally stop next to him, shoulders barely brushing against each other. “This one is Pyrois.”
“Helios’ pegasi,” you murmur, glossing over the fine details and intricacies of the statue.
“I thought you might like them.”
You don’t say anything for a moment and grin, watching his eyes light up from the corner of your vision. “I love them.”
“Thank god. You were taking so long to respond, I thought you were going to yell at me for fucking up Sol Invictus.”
You laugh and shake your head, both of you shuffling as you face each other.
“Hi,” you say so lightly it comes out as a breathy laugh when you both finally look each other in the eye.
“Sunshine.” Joshua smiles, holding out his hand. The light is warm when it hits your skin, and Joshua’s dark hair glints a light brown under the beams. You take his hand and run your fingers over the calluses of his palm; his skin is warm when his fingers grasp around yours and as you look at his eyes, you feel it in your bones.
This is Joshua, this is Joshua, and every path you follow will always lead you back to him.
find an alternate ending here!
edit. thanks 4 making it this far! if ur interested i expand on the concept of an isohel more here and little tidbits here, and it's honestly just a ramble but i hope it makes clear why i made some decisions w the story if ur interested :3
a/n. aaah it's done! as per em's request, i will be posting a one-shot of these two and their lives in the future bc i feel like i robbed u guys of a possibly fluffier ending so keep an eye out for that ... anyways, i hope u enjoyed, comments / reblogs would mean the world to me and >_< thank u for reading!
taglist. @synthetickitsune @ixayjun @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @hipsdofangirl @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @whippedforjihoon @nishloves @woozarts (strikethrough could not be tagged)
2K notes
·
View notes
A Good Daddy
Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Gojo Satoru x f!reader
Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Genre/Theme: Established relationship/marriage; non-sorcery au
Content warning: fluff, light angst, smut, oral (f.receiving), piv sex, bondage, dom!gojo, sub!reader, brat taming, overstimulation, pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, explicit sexual content, language.
Summary: Husband!Gojo with a pregnancy kink. When he sees you babysitting your close friend’s baby and can’t get the idea of seeing you with a baby bump, carrying his child, out of his head.
Author's Note: Satoru would be such a great dad and you can’t convince me otherwise! The kids are sure to be his exact clones, trusting him with their life cause they know their daddy is just that great 🥹🥹🥹. Daddy Gojo has taken over my brain and is manspreading on my thoughts! As always, I hope you enjoy this one shot. Thank you for reading!
~ Eren’s Birdie
Song Dedication: Married Life (from UP) by Michael Giacchino / Daddy’s Home by USHER (aka Gojo theme™)
“Sup, how's it hanging? Long time no see,” you say coolly as you see your husband walking out of the kitchen towards you.
You have your knitting kit in hand, body nestling into the soft cushions of the sofa, belly feeling like it���s about to burst after the delicious dinner you just had.
Satoru lifts your feet up before resting them on his lap as he sits on the opposite end of the sofa. He's massaging your feet with utmost care.
“Where do I even begin?! A lot has happened since we last saw each other about 10 minutes ago. I washed the dishes!” He sighs, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner while his palm presses flat on the bottom of your foot to stretch your achilles tendon, melting the stiffness away, “And what about you? How have you been, stranger?”
You hold the half knitted lavender patch up to show it to him, “I am making a beanie for Hina. It's getting colder so I figured she'd have a cute little warm beanie to go on her cute little head.”
Satoru crinkles his nose at this before confessing, “Cute. Do we need to babysit her anytime soon again? I miss the little devil.”
“‘Toru, I doubt Rin and Kento go out without their baby that often,” you let out a breathy laugh when he massages the top of your foot with a soothing firmness.
“Maybe we should make one of our own then I'll miss her less,” Satoru pouts, trying to test the waters carefully to see if it was the right chance to bring up the topic. Afterall, it's what he had been thinking about the entire week.
The baby in question was 8 months old Hina, your best friend's baby. The couple rarely went out ever since they had the baby – so the handful of times that Rin and her husband Kento needed a babysitter, you’d happily volunteered, not minding it ruining your Saturday night plans.
And although Satoru would pout at this each time, he secretly didn’t mind taking care of the toddler with you. It almost felt like a ‘trial’ run for when you’d have your own kids in the future – mini versions of you and him. And so he looked forward to babysitting little Hina as he got glimpses of the motherly side of you.
Your husband knew that you wanted to wait a while before you made the huge decision of bringing a child into this world and he was on the same page… until recently. He knew he was having a change of heart on the matter when his daydreams of seeing you with a baby bump started to spiral out of control over the last month.
What broke the camel’s back was an incident from a week ago – when he’d rushed out of the room to tell you he’d won a game of Counter-Strike against Suguru, you’d gently motioned him to be quiet, cradling the sleeping baby in your lap. He silently made his way to you when he saw the baby was clutching a strand of your hair in her sleep. Since you couldn’t move, he took it on himself to free your hair from the toddler’s strong grip. But just as he did that, Hina wrapped her tiny fingers around his thumb, holding it tightly in her sleep. When he looked up at you, you smiled at him with your loving eyes – it was when he’d decided that he wanted to impregnate you asap.
He had trouble falling asleep that night. You, on the other hand, were sleeping peacefully, after fulfilling your duty as the babysitter diligently. You’d wished Satoru goodnight right after handing Hina over to her parents, who’d returned from their date well into the night, leaving no opportunity for your husband to bring up the topic.
With much difficulty when he did manage to fall asleep, he’d woken up sweating profusely at the wet dream he had where he came inside you instead of pulling out as per usual. He turned to his side trying his best to control his urges to recreate his dream as he slid his hand up under your tshirt to play with your soft nipples, making you stir in your sleep.
“Wifey… let’s make a baby,” he’d whispered, peppering your neck with soft kisses. You mumbled something incoherent as you turned to wrap your arm around his waist, still deep asleep. He sighed as he pulled his hand away, forcing himself to fall asleep, convincing himself that it was just his horny fantasies talking.
Oh how wrong he was! Here he was, a week later, baby fever running higher than ever.
You look up from the knitting hooks, before giggling, “Yeah, right…”
“Love, I’m serious,” he mumbles, bringing your left leg up to his face to kiss your foot.
“‘Toru, why are you springing this on me so suddenly? You agreed we'd wait a while…” you sigh as you begin, sitting up as you pull your feet away from his hold.
“Yes but–”
“Satoru… we just got married. We need to get used to our married life first. We need to be with each other before we decide to bring a whole new being into this world,” you explain softly, telling him things he already knew.
“But technically, we've been together for almost 6 years now, I say we're beyond ready,” he protests.
“No, I doubt we're mature enough for the responsibility,” you retort.
“But imagine mini versions of us two running around the house,” he places his hands on your feet once again, pleading with a twinkle in his eyes akin to a kid begging for candy at a store.
“Please! My genes won't even fight, our baby will look like you,” you laugh.
“Then we can just make another one,” he says in a playful tone.
“Well… I have a feeling both of our babies will end up looking like you,” you roll your eyes at him.
“Then what about the next 2?” he says hopefully.
“Next 2? ONLY 2!” you scold him softly. He raises an eyebrow at you and you give him a calculated reasoning, “Just so that they have someone they share an unbreakable bond with and aren't lonely while growing up.”
“Exactly! I say the more the merrier!” he squeezes your feet in excitement.
“Satoru, I'm not a baby machine!” you slide your leg to his lap to nudge his thigh jokingly, “Besides, counting you I'd have 3 babies anyway.”
“Now you're just coming up with whatever excuses,” he snickers, slapping your foot away before shuffling to sit closer to you.
“Oh really?” you furrow your eyebrows as you sit up completely in front of him, sensing the conversation taking a serious turn. You place the knitting yarn and hook to the side on the coffee table.
“Yes really,” he kisses your temple to dissolve the wrinkle there. He always does that whenever you seem annoyed at him as he knows it never fails to make you giggle instantly. However, you simply fold your arms over your chest and give him a stern look.
“No… don’t do this. Talk to me Satoru, I’m serious…” you speak and he drops the playful act, nodding and signalling you to put your point across before he gets his chance to speak.
You sigh as you begin, “You’re the love of my life and I don't doubt for a second that you'd be an amazing father with time but I also believe you don't have the attention span or patience that taking care of a newborn requires, at least for now.”
“Are you being serious right now?” he folds his hands over his chest, sitting up straight.
The crinkle on your forehead fades as you try to find the best words to explain your point to your husband without seeming too harsh, “I'm sorry love, I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just saying… for example, when I was trying to get Hina to sleep, you were screaming at your xbox each time something happened. It made her wake up a few times before she finally fell asleep–”
“You should’ve told me, I would’ve tried to be quiet,” he pouts, slumping and leaning back on the sofa.
“‘Toru… I literally called your phone since I couldn’t yell at you but you were too busy with your game to notice.”
“You know I don't play everyday– okay, if it’s just that, I don’t see a problem. I can change that habit,” he says with a determined look on his face.
“Baby, I'm not trying to change you. But you have to realise that things change drastically when there’s a baby involved, whether you want them to or not,” you explain and he can tell you’re tired by the way your voice sounds. You bring your hand up to rub your temple, letting out a deep exhale.
He dips his head low, mumbling something along the lines of ‘but I'd be a good dad.’
“You tried to feed her chocolate saying she loved the taste! You're not supposed to feed them stuff like that till they're like… one! I don’t think you’re ready for such a huge responsibility just yet,” The tone of your voice is strict, a little louder than you’d like it to be and you already feel guilty at raising your voice at him.
He opens his mouth as if to say something but then shuts it back again. “What is it?” you urge him to speak.
“Nothing… it’s alright, I get it. You don't want me to be the father of your babies,” He mutters as he tries getting up. You grab his wrist to stop him from leaving, giving him a ‘you know that's not true’ look.
He sighs as he sits back down, “Okay maybe what you're saying is kinda true. I don't know much about babies besides the fact that they're like cute mini humans. But I can learn, you know? No one has a manual on how to be the best father but I know I will give it my 100%”
When he sees a faint smile return to your face, it encourages him to continue to convince you, “Maybe I might surprise you. Remember when you first thought I wasn't the type to take aftercare seriously but then you told me how surprised you were when I made you feel good during and after our first time?”
“Yeah,” you blush at him, rolling your eyes playfully, “You are good at that.”
“So let me show you baby… I’ll prove it to you, I'll be the best daddy,” He leans his weight on your body, trapping you between the cushions to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck, moaning into his mouth when his hands play with your breasts from over your t-shirt.
When he dips his face down to your neck, sucking you where he knows will have you putty in his hand, you take a shaky breath, biting your lip at the sensation.
“Can’t wait to fill you up with my cum– gonna make your pretty belly swell,” he whispers as his head moves down, lifting up your t-shirt along with your bra to expose your chest before latching his mouth onto one of your hardened buds.
You bring your hands down to place them firmly on his chest as you push him away lightly, letting out a heavy sigh. Satoru stops as he moves back up to look into your eyes, eyebrows knitted.
You simply let out another sigh as you break eye contact to look to the side. He waits for you to speak but when the moment passes, he pulls away completely. You pull your t-shirt down and fix your bra quietly, actively avoiding his gaze.
“I'm going to bed, night,” he mumbles, getting up off the sofa to retire to the bedroom without waiting for your reply. He didn't kiss you good night, he almost never does that unless he's really upset. But why can't he understand where you're coming from?
Can't you understand where he’s coming from?
You close your eyes briefly as you slump onto the sofa. You rest one arm on your forehead as your head starts going into overthinking mode. However, your train of thought is broken before it can reach a destination when your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out lazily as you open the text you’d just received from Rin.
You download the picture and your heart flutters when you see that it’s a photo of Satoru holding baby Hina in a loving embrace. It’s a picture taken on your wedding day, your husband’s crisp white shirt wrinkled by the way he’s holding the baby and smiling at her lovingly. She must’ve been barely 2 months old at the wedding. You can’t help but smile at the photo, your heart aching when you remember that the same man is sleeping in the other room, upset with you. You’re pulled out of your thoughts once again when your phone rings.
Rin:
Look how cute this is! I never knew I had this in my phone!
<1 attachment>
“Did you see the picture? Aren’t they the cutest? I was just telling Kento about how I wish you guys should have a baby soon. It’d make Hina a big sister,” your friend squeals. You laugh back at her but it’s due to the absurdity of her timing.
“Seriously, I’d love to see Satoru being a dad,” she adds when you don’t say anything.
You laugh again, “Right, that makes it the two of you.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“I mean that Satoru and I just had a small disagreement about this,” you press your hand to your temple, massaging it.
Rin stays quiet for a moment before you hear her speak again, “Do you remember that day? He had taken off his suit coat, not because he was worried Hina would spoil it, but because he thought the fabric of his shirt was softer for her to rest her head on.”
You nod, not realising she can’t see you, before you reply with a quiet ‘hmm’.
“All I’m saying is that I know you fear him being too easy going, but Satoru is a serious guy, he knows when to take responsibility diligently,” your friend continues, reminding you of the things you already know and adore about your man.
You almost tear up – you'd been overthinking this so much that you forgot to acknowledge Satoru for the man that he is. Of course he'd be a great dad!
Even if Rin hears you sniff, she doesn’t comment on it. Instead she asks, “Oh by the way, do you have her blue binky?”
“Huh?”
“It must be at your place. I can't find it here and Hina’s been raising hell cause it's one of her favourites,” Rin explains.
“Oh, just a min–” You look around the sofa, digging your hands into the creases and corners in hopes of finding it.
“It's here!” you exclaim but your smile fades as you observe the tiny object in your hand, a realisation hitting you with the speed of lightning.
You had been projecting. Sure, having a baby was going to be hard but you were worried about being a bad mother more than Satoru being a bad father. Taking care of a growing life, who’s primarily dependent on you for everything, requires a lot of patience. Making sure your tiny human receives everything it deserves isn’t an easy task at all times.
Yet, despite all of this, if there’s one thing you knew without a speck of doubt, it was that you wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else but the love of your life, Gojo Satoru. You're brought back to reality, breaking from your ruminations when you hear your friend’s voice calling your name once again.
“Sorry… hey– let me call you back?” you mumble.
“Sure, take care. Good night. See you tomorrow,” your friend speaks softly before hanging up.
You drop your phone on the sofa as you get up to make your way to the bedroom. When you walk in, you find Satoru sleeping on his side, his back turned to you.
“Baby, are you asleep?” you speak softly. He doesn't respond but you know he's awake – he can never fall asleep when he's lying on his right side.
Shit, he’s really mad.
You quietly strip off your sweatpants and t-shirt, leaving you only in your bra and underwear before hopping on the bed to get closer to your husband.
“‘Toru, my love,” you coo softly as you kiss his cheek from behind. He turns to look at you, poker face on. You catch his eyes wandering down to your cleavage briefly but he doesn’t break his composure nonetheless.
You lean forward to press your chest against his, kissing him on the lips but he's annoyingly stiff. You sit back up as you pout at him.
“Please don't be mad at me baby,” you murmur as your fingers draw lazy circles over the expanse of his chest. Just as you move your hand down his torso, dangerously closer to his crotch, he grabs your wrist and flips your bodies so that you’re trapped under him.
Your giggles come to an abrupt halt and you bite your lip when you feel his hips press against you, fully aware of his evidently erect bulge.
“And why shouldn't I be mad at you?” He mocks, bringing his right hand up to your neck, his long fingers gripping the sides firmly.
“Because you love me?” You pout as you bat your eyelashes at him. He lets out a dry chuckle as his fingers choke you lightly.
“Not enough. Gotta try harder than that baby.”
“I'm sorry, ‘Toru… maybe you can forgive the mother of your future children,” you bring a hand up to caress his cheek.
“Hmm… should I?” He says, adding a bit more pressure. When you let out a quiet gasp, he dips his head down to kiss your parted lips hungrily. Your breathing gets heavier as his tongue explores your mouth, the sloppy wetness of your salivas mixing together making your pussy throb in excitement. Your hands move up to his hair, tugging at his blonde locks.
You whimper into his mouth when he bites your lower lip, pulling it out before releasing it with a soft plop. His grip on your throat releases as his hand slides underneath to unclasp your bra before hastily taking it off and tossing it aside.
You cup his face so that he’s looking into your eyes when you speak. His demeanour almost collapses at what you say next.
“Satoru… don’t pull out. Please fuck a baby into me,” you say timidly, the heat in your cheeks rising. He knows that you know just how much your words get to him and use it to your advantage often – usually he’d let you but this time, he doesn't want to let you have your way with him just yet. He wants to toy with you for a bit first.
“Maybe I've changed my mind?” he says with a smug look on his face. Your hands move down to his hips, hooking into the band of his sweatpants to push them down along with his underwear to his thighs, freeing his dick from its restraints. You lift your hips up to feel his hard on against your core.
“I doubt,” you bite back, deceitful innocence in your eyes, “...but I could just go to sleep if you're not up for it.”
Your husband lets out a low chuckle as he grabs your jaw firmly, shaking his head at you, “You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you.”
In an attempt to rile him up further, you decide to mock him as you repeat his words in a condescending tone, “You're not going anywhere until– AHH!”
Big mistake.
Within a second Satoru flips you over till you're lying on your stomach, caging you in place with his knees dipping into the mattress on either side of you. He leans back to pull your underwear off and your heart picks up its pace when he grabs both your wrists to tie them behind your back with the flimsy fabric in a tight, makeshift knot.
He pushes your head into the pillow before landing a rough slap on your ass. He kneads the skin right after to soothe the stinging sensation.
“‘Toru–” you whimper. He ignores your pleading voice, simply tapping two fingers over your ass. You know what he wants and you obey immediately, lifting your hips up off the mattress. He folds your thighs further in till your back is arched with your ass up in the air, on display for him.
“You know what happens when you act bratty,” he kneads your asscheeks with both of his hands before clawing at the flesh. You push back in response and he laughs, “... or maybe you’re just a masochist.”
He lands another sharp spank, causing you to let out a tiny sob into the pillow.
“Tell me what you want baby,” he teases. Your head turns to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face behind you but your movement’s restricted, rendering your attempts useless.
If there’s one thing that Satoru claims to lose his mind over is the look in your eyes. He often calls your eyes his ‘weakness’, confessing he’d do anything you ask of him when you look at him with those fucked out eyes during sex. So for him to take away his weakness, typically with a blindfold, is when you know you’re really fucked.
“Didn’t you have a lot to say just now, love?” he mocks and you feel two fingers glide over your exposed cunt. You sigh at the sensation, letting out soft moans when his fingers begin to play with your folds.
“‘Toru– more,” you beg and he slides two fingers inside you. You hum in pleasure but huff when you’re reminded of the annoyance of being restricted each time you try to move your arms.
His movements are excruciatingly slow and it’s making you lose your mind and patience. You try to chase his touch, failing miserably at getting him to push his fingers deeper inside you. Satoru lets out a condescending chuckle at your poor attempt, “Are you really that desperate for me baby?”
You huff and you’re about to complain but it turns into broken moans when he starts pumping his fingers into you – the squelching sound of your pussy blending with drawn out cries of his name.
“Aww, does my wife like it when I do this?” he teases, curving his fingers inside to rub your walls, massaging a particular spot that has you begging him for more. Your thighs tremble and your pussy flutters around his fingers. “Guess she really does!” you hear him squeal before he pulls his fingers out completely, depriving you of all contact within a second.
“Satoru! S– stop being so mean!” you scold him with shallow breaths.
“Satoru! Stop being so mean!” he laughs as he mocks you, his fingers lightly grazing over your folds.
“Baby… pl–please, I’m sorry,” you cry, desperate for his touch.
“What for, baby?” he nudges further, his finger inching towards your clit.
“For teasing you– mmh,” you whimper when he rubs over the bundle of nerves.
“But that’s not why I’m mad…”
“‘Toru please–”
“Yes?” he sings.
“Fuc– I’m sorry… I was wrong, you’ll be a great dad– ahh,” you squeeze your eyes shut when he pinches your clit.
“That’s it,” he coos softly and you feel him come up behind you to kiss your shoulder, “was that so hard, baby?” he moves down to bite one of your tied wrists, moving further down to kiss the skin over your tailbone. You feel his fingers dig into your ass, pulling the flesh apart before diving his face down as he begins lapping at your cunt with a brutal pace.
Your ass jerks up at the sudden touch and he continues his ministrations, alternating between sucking your clit and licking down till his tongue’s dipping inside your hole, wiggling it in. You twist your wrists, feeling the urge to grab at something, anything to steady yourself, yet it’s a futile attempt.
“Toru– too much,” your tears wetting the pillow as you feel your legs shake, threatening to collapse at any moment. Satoru is quick to sit up straight and you feel his shuffling movement behind you and see him toss the bundle of his clothes to the side before settling behind you once again, wedging his knees between yours to spread them wider. He taps his swollen tip over your folds, rubbing it back and forth to coat it with your wet slick.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel him push the tip in, splitting your walls to adjust to his length. Once he’s completely buried inside you, he grips the side of your hips to support you, “Gonna fill you up so good baby.”
“Oh god– Sa–toru–” you howl when he pulls almost his entire length out before thrusting back into you. When his pace builds up, your body jerks slightly forward due to the force of his thrusts. His grip on your sides tightens as he pulls your hips back to slam you back against him.
The sound of your skin slapping fills the air along with both of your moans and groans. When you wiggle your wrists again in a desperate attempt, the knot loosens just enough for you to wring your wrist free. You bring one hand down to support your weight while the other moves behind you to claw at his forearm.
Satoru hisses at the sudden contact as he twists your wrist, holding it against your lower back while his other hand snakes around your throat, pulling you back till you’re sitting up flush against his chest. His other hand hooks around your waist as he starts bouncing your torso up and down on his dick at the same time he slams up into you.
You free the hand behind your back to pull his face closer while twisting your neck to look back, kissing him frantically, the wet trail of your tears smudging and transferring onto his skin.
At a particularly rough thrust, Satoru’s knee slides slightly, making his balance stumble a bit. He lets out a breathy ‘fuck’ as he pulls out abruptly.
“‘Toru?”
“Shhh–” he orders as he grips your waist tightly to pull you down till you both are lying down on your left side, his chest pressed against your back. He adjusts his position to hook your legs around his, opening you up wider for him as he brings his hand down to guide his dick back near your entrance to shove it in your swollen hole.
His hand is shaky as he brings it to your clit to rub circles as he resumes thrusting into you ruthlessly once again. You cry his name out loud at how good this new motion hits and he bites your shoulder. You know he’s close by how erratic his thrusts get.
His other arm that is placed beneath you comes up to pinch your nipples, the added stimulation is too intense for you as you feel the muscles in your stomach tighten more than they already have. His nose buries in the crook of your neck as his lips bite your skin harshly. When he starts sucking on your favourite spot behind your ear, it causes goosebumps to rise all over your body.
You claw at his biceps as you turn your head back to look at him. He looks so fucked out and the fact that he gets this way only for you is what overwhelms your senses even further.
“Fuck–” his eyebrows knit as he leans down to kiss you. You feel your body twitch as the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter before letting go completely, causing your walls to pulse around his cock as you reach your orgasm.
Your moans are swallowed by his kisses and your grip on his locks loosens. When you break away from the kiss to catch your breath, you stare at his face and your eyebrows knit when you see the way a string of saliva connects your lips with his. Your chest heaves as you look into his eyes and you can tell he’s close.
“Fuck– fuck– shi–” he grunts as he shuts his eyes, biting your shoulder once again and you feel him shoot his load inside, painting your walls. With broken thrusts, he slows down before stopping completely. He stays inside you for a few seconds before pulling out and shutting your legs close to keep his cum from spilling out.
You let out a tired laugh at this as you close your eyes, suddenly feeling hyper aware of everything that had just transpired, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. He readjusts your position so that you’re lying flat on your back, while he moves on top of you till his head is resting on the valley of your breasts.
You open your eyes when you feel him tug at your wrist and you see him free it from your underwear that was still hanging limply there. As he holds the fabric up, you see that the elasticity of its band had been completely destroyed. You see red marks on your wrist where it was secured tightly. Satoru pulls your hand down to kiss your wrist, mumbling a ‘sorry’ and turning his head to kiss your other wrist.
You simply hum as you close your eyes again, calming your breathing and nerves. You feel him rub circles over your stomach before moving down to kiss you over your belly button. He brings both his hands up to intertwine his fingers with yours, peppering soft kisses all over your stomach.
“So… care to explain what changed your mind so quickly?” he asks.
You nod as you slowly open your eyes, gulping as you look down to meet his gaze. He moves up till he’s at your eye level, expectantly waiting for your answer, pinning your hands to the sides of your head.
You bite your lip nervously as you begin, “Sorry for insinuating that you’d be a bad father. It wasn’t my intention – I just got scared. I know you’ll be a great papa, I don’t doubt it for a second…” you look away to avoid his gaze, “... sorry for projecting my insecurities onto you– I’m just worried if I’d be able to be a good mom.”
“Baby… you’re so smart, yet sometimes you say the dumbest shit,” he chuckles softly as he brings one hand up to cup your face, “I’ve seen the way you take care of Hina… seeing you be so kind and loving is what made me go crazy about wanting our own babies. I want kids because I’d get to be a parent with you… so that you can be the mother of my children. Don’t go thinking about crazy hypotheticals like that!”
“Hmm, thank you baby. But taking care of Hina is easy when it’s only for a couple of hours at a time. Having our own baby will be like a full time job. I listen to the way Rin sometimes jokes that she doesn’t even have time alone with Kento cause she’s so tired oft–”
“Hey, hey… breathe,” Satoru interrupts you, resting his forehead against yours and your face relaxes as you close your eyes, taking deep breaths. “Even if all of that is true, you have me with you. I’m not leaving your side even for a second, my love. We’re in this together. Taking care of our baby and his pretty mommy is my responsibility and I’m gonna do it right.”
You feel the tears well up in your eyes as you look up at him and he smiles softly at you, “I love you.”
You tilt your head slightly to kiss him before speaking, “I love you so much Satoru. I wouldn’t want to have anyone else’s baby.”
“Oh thank goodness! Wanting a baby only with your husband is the ideal thing after all,” he laughs breathily and you slap his chest lightly.
“Besides, I think we’ll be ready by the time I actually conceive. I’ve heard that it takes a few months for some couples, so who knows, right?” you think out loud.
“Please,” he snickers, “I’ve got the best swimmers, there’s no way in hell you won’t be pregnant after tonight…”
You giggle as you pull him down till he’s lying on top of you completely like your own personal weighted blanket.
He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, “... but just to be sure, let’s go another round… make it certain.”
“‘Toru! I’m tired” you laugh as you try to pull him off of you but he continues kissing down your neck. You close your eyes at how sensitive your skin feels against his kisses.
“Then just lie down. I’ll do all the work, princess,” your husband winks at you before circling his tongue around one of your already hardened nipples.
You hum contentedly as you rest your head back down, melting into the pillow and accepting your fate – you were going to have to run on very little sleep tomorrow.
~fin~
668 notes
·
View notes
Pt 2 - The one that you want.
✩Theodore Nott x Reader
Pt 2 to Hey, trouble (DELETED)
Summary: The one where just as things are beginning to look up, everything comes crashing down. Alternatively: Tension, Fluff, Angst.
A/N: This fic was written very sleep deprived so I ask you to bear with me. The second part is my favourite so just stick with it.
Songs: The Way - Mac Miller, Ariana Grande
Lover, you should have come over - Jeff Buckley
Promise - Laufey
NOTE: I accidentally deleted my account and did not have the first part of this mini series saved! I will probably rewrite it but there is some context you should know, so i’ll try summarise it as concisely as possible:
You and Theodore used to be really good friends when you first joined Hogwarts. Naturally, as you both got older, you changed slightly. Theodore came back one summer and he seemed completely different, he was not only incredibly handsome but he had generally flourished as a person. The girls all loved him and he found a new set of friends, essentially forgetting about you. Time skip a few years and you become friends with Pansy, and the rest of the group. Theodore greets you as though nothing has changed. You habour a lot of resentment to him initially, but realise you really do love chilling with the group and so you set it to the side. In the fic, you’re at a party and you head up to the roof. Theodore appears and you chat for the first time in ages. It gets a bit tense when you subtly call him out but you try brush it off as a joke. He noticed you at their quidditch practice earlier on in the day with mattheos number painted on your face, and he sounds a bit jealous. You assure him it was only for jokes, though you’re confused as to why he’d be upset. Theodore (internally ) alludes to loving you and you’re both emotionally stunted idiots in love.
AND that brings us back to now. Enjoy xx
Friday had finally come, and you couldn't think of a word that could place just how relieved you were feeling. Don't get it wrong, you hugely valued your education, and took pride in working hard, but at the end of the day, there's only so much history of magic one could tolerate before their brain tuned out. The surprise quiz you took in class today told you that you had reached that point many months ago. But it was ok, that was an issue for the future.
You click open the door to your dorm room, tossing your bag haphazardly to the side as you undo your tie, pulling it loose with a groan of relief. Pansy is sprawled out comfortably on your bed because apparently, yours was comfier (they were the exact same thing, she just couldn't be bothered to make hers in the morning.)
You flick a strand of hair that fell in front of your face with a dramatic sigh as you flop down onto the bed, lying perpendicular to Pansy as you rest your head on her lap. She has a half smile of amusement as her hand comes down to pat your head, eyes trained on her book. You raise a brow and shuffle up slightly to catch a glimpse of what she was reading.
You see the word ‘shaft’ once and that's all you need to see as you gasp with fake indignation.
“Pansy… Whilst I'm sitting here?” You groan and she grins, her face slightly red as she shrugs, shameless.
I mean, come on. You weren't a stranger to smut, but right in front of you? You grab the book from her hand and toss it across the room.
“None of that whilst I'm here. Your amazing and beautiful friend is vying for attention so focus on me.’ You say and she playfully rolls her eyes as she lies back on her bed.
“It's disgustingly hot. I can't be bothered for this year anymore. The days are as hot as hell depths and the evening has me freezing my nonexistent balls off.” Pansy moans, and you hum in agreement.
You’re grateful for your friend and her seemingly never-ending talent of speaking because you currently couldn't even muster the energy to speak.
“Do we have to go watch the boys today? Lila told me Madam Pince has charmed the library with a cooling spell. We could go there instead.” Pansy says, sitting up, and the idea is incredibly tempting. You live for nothing more than to get out of this dastardly heat, especially in the comfort of the library (Pansy and yourself had mastered the art of smuggling snacks in. The key was in making sure you triple-checked what you bought in, which you learnt after Pansy had accidentally sat on a Fizzlebees Exploding Sherbet last winter. The poor 1st year who had sat next to you was sure that there was some kind of attack and leapt under the nearest table.)
The mention of practice has your mind thinking back to your most recent encounter with Theodore. Just thinking about it again elicited that strange feeling in your stomach. You were, perhaps, close to a path of redemption (though it was more Theodore redeeming himself.)
With a sigh, you shake your head.
“We promised them we'd come. Besides, imagine the absolute havoc Mattheo will cause when he finds out we ditched for the library of all places. He would get us banned for a month, at the very least.” You say, and Pansy grumbles but ultimately knows you’re right. She sighs, muttering.
“Yes yes, I suppose you're right.” She begrudgingly admits and you grin, sitting up. You walk over to your closet, looking for something else to wear as you felt as though you were positively melting in your uniform. You flick through your closet, cursing the endless void that conveniently was full of sweaters and thick jumpers now summer has come. You dig around and find a pair of black denim shorts towards the back. You don't even know when you got them, but they fit and they'll do the job. You're thankful for the fact that you love the feeling of freshly shaven legs on your bedsheets, because heaven knows you would not bother to shave your legs for a man. You manage to find a green shirt, and you slip it on. It's nothing special really, but you weren't dressing up for anyone. You were long past those days now, you found that it was lovely not giving two shits. Pansy called it alarming, but you liked to think of it as… eclectic.
Pansy brings over her signature red lipstick (which you're sure only she can pull off) and holds your cheek in place to draw a number 10 on it, as standard practice. You reach up to grab her hand.
“Wait. Do 7 instead.” You say. She widens her eyes slightly and wiggles her brows as she looks at you.
“Oh? And why is that?” She probes and you playfully swat her, rolling your eyes.
“Theodore just asked me to. Besides we shouldn't inflate Mattheo's ego too much.” You respond a bit too quickly, and she has a shit-eating grin on her face. Pansy knows you well though, and she knows probing any further will only give her a stinging hex and nothing more, so she simply looks at you with a pointed look as she draws the 7 on instead. You watch as she traces the number 7 on her face too, adjusting her hair as she pouts and blows a kiss at herself in the mirror. You pointedly roll your eyes to tease her and she throws a pillow at you.
“Alright alright, you humble lady. Let's go.” You muse, holding your arm out. The two of you link arms as you descend down to the quidditch pitch. The sun is shining blazing down on you, and you feel uncomfortably hot and sticky within a few seconds of being outside. You truly weren't built for warm weather.
The grass on the pitch is a beautiful rich green and the sky is so picturesquely blue that it seems more like a postcard as opposed to real life. You imagine that this must be their favourite season; you had entertained the idea of watching one match in the winter season and immediately stopped after a gust of wind sent a bird flying into the girl sitting above you (You were sure it had given her that scratch on her cheek.) You couldn't cope with watching a match in such harsh weather, and you couldn't even begin to imagine how it must be to play in such conditions.
Idiots, really. They brought it on themselves. They definitely came to that realisation when they would be dragged out of bed at 5:00 am to go play in the freezing cold whilst you remained blissfully asleep under your warm covers.
You clamber up the stairs of the stands and curse under your breath. For all the beauty and wonders the wizarding world had, was it really that damn hard to have a few escalators here and there? You wanted to watch a practice game, not train to have the thighs of Hercules. You finally reach the top and shimmy down the benches with Pansy, leaning against the railing, The team was already up in the air, circling around whilst tossing the ball to one another. For all the grace and elegance Draco exuded on the ground, you couldn’t help but snicker when you catch the sight of him looking like he had slathered himself in red paint, all sweaty and grimacing; strands of his blonde hair clinging to his face.
“You alright up there Draco? Mummy forget to send you some sun cream?” You call out teasingly, and he sneers at you as Mattheo cackles, swooping down on his broom to greet you and Pansy.
“There they are!” Blaise says, a small grin on his face as he flies down to your level, joining Mattheo. You don’t even have the time to greet him because a loud gasp escapes Mattheo's lips, his hand coming out to grip your chin, tilting your face to the side.
“Traitors!” Mattheo says, eyes flickering between Pansy and yourself. You can't keep the grin off your face as you pry your face out of Mattheo's hands.
“Oh come on Mattheo. We love you all equally and need to express that love as such.” Pansy drawls, a taunting grin on her face.
“Fuck off, I'm the only important one,” Mattheo responds, puffing out his chest as he points to himself.
Blaise has to hold back from rolling his eyes, looking over at you exasperatedly. You exchange a glance with him and you feel your lips curl up into a small smile as you stifle a laugh.
“This was your doing! What did you do to them? Now I'm going to play like shit!” Mattheo whines, as he turns to look up at Theodore.
Theodore.
Your eyes flicker up and sure enough there he is. And god, how dare he look so good in this disgusting heat. His eyes are (and you have the feeling they were like that for quite a bit) trained on you, an unreadable expression on his face. He keeps his gaze on you, and you're sure at that moment he was trying to seduce your soul or play some stupid kind of mind tricks on you to have you thinking of him all day (it was working.)
His lips curl up into that godforsaken smile that borders on a smug little smirk. It has you embarrassingly weak in the knees and suddenly you're very glad it's hot, for you could blame your red cheeks on the heat. He flies down, tearing his gaze away from you as he comes close to Mattheo.
“Come on Mattheo, I’ve got an audience so I need to make sure I beat you embarrassingly quickly today,” Theodore says, egging his friend on.
“Yeah fucking right,” Mattheo says, turning to Theodore as the two engage in the most awful, embarrassing trash talk. You and Pansy exchange a glance and the two of you side-eye them with disdain.
The simple mind of boys managed to amaze you every time. Their attention span was impressively short.
Proving your point, Mattheo flies up to poke fun at Draco and Lorenzo, who both didn't seem to be holding up too well with the heat. You lean your elbows on the railing and stiffen slightly when Theodore flies up next to you. He hovers on his broom mid-air, resting his elbow on the railing in front of you. His face is incredibly close to yours, analysing your face with those sinful eyes of him which should be illegal because
Fuck, you were deprived.
“You wore it.” He says, and he sounds oddly breathless. You were assured by Blaise mere minutes ago that they had barely started practising.
Why did it seem so hard to speak? Why did Theodore seem so surprised? Why did you feel so bashful?
“You asked.” You respond, and his eyes search yours for a second before a smile tugs at his lips. His hand reaches out to cup your face, tilting it to the side as he looks at the 7 on your cheek.
Was this all it took for Theodore to touch you?
You’d have to start drawing 7 everywhere.
His fingers brush against your jaw, and you let out a shaky breath as his thumb runs along your cheek.
His touch leaves a fiery trail in its wake, and you are sure he has to be doing some sort of nonverbal magic because you feel as though you are going crazy. You resist the urge to let your eyes flutter shut because Theodore Nott simply has that effect.
He turns your head back and you stare at one another for a second more before he pulls back, and your mouth feels awfully dry.
“Mattheo smudged it.” He says, and his voice sounds slightly strained as he says so. You can't keep the corners of your lips from lifting slightly as you nod.
“Right.” You breathe out, looking at him. He grins, and this time you have to be sure you have not secured yourself a one-way ticket to the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, because you swear his eyes flicker down to your lips for a brief second before he leans back like he's been forced to do so, wordlessly looking at you once more before he grips the broom with one hand, effortlessly flying up to start practice.
You don’t even have the time to process whatever that was because your ever-eloquent and insightful friend speaks the very thoughts running through your head.
“What in the ever-loving fuck was that?” Pansy utters, eyes wide as she stares at the spot where Theodore was standing.
Amen to that, Pansy. What in the ever-loving fuck was that?
Your hand hovers over your cheek, ghosting over the place Theodore had just touched.
You part your lips to say something, but can't even formulate the words, and Pansy recognises that.
“Holy Shit! He- That-” She says, hands grabbing your shoulders as she shakes you. You're ashamed to say you needed it because you were sure you were dreaming.
“What's going on between you two? First, you’re wearing his number to the match. Then he's practically eye fucking you and you're both literally about to make out.” Pansy babbles and you roll your eyes at her dramatics.
“Oh calm down, Pansy. He barely looked at me, and he was just fixing it because Mattheo had smudged it. There's nothing going on.” She says and Pansy narrows her eyes.
“Oh yes, and I’m fucking straight. We both know that's a lie.” She deadpans, and you shake your head with an exasperated smile.
You couldn't tell whether you wanted to crack up with laughter or strangle the shit out of her. With Pansy, the line blurred more often than not. It’s why you loved her so dearly.
“Genuinely Pansy, nothing’s going on between Theodore and me. We used to be really good friends. That's all.” You say, with a tone of finality. She sighs, mumbling under her breath.
“….Painfully obvious”
“Both know that's a lie…..”
“Hopeless idiot…”
You shoot her a glare at her mumbling and she returns the sentiment with a pointed smile, enough to make you roll your eyes with amusement. You rest your head on her shoulder as the two of you watch the match.
The day Theodore had walked past you like you simply didn't exist was the day you swore to yourself you'd never, EVER, let yourself be good friends with him again. You stuck to your word always, yet this was proving to be one time where you didn't.
You prayed you wouldn't regret this, but alas, the universe is cruel at times.
The news of Draco’s father cancelling their annual summer holiday trip came surprisingly as great news to your groups as you all lounged in the library (which was as packed as it had ever been thanks to Madam Pince’s cooling charm. You all begged her to teach you the spell but she refused, and you were sure she kept it hidden to make sure people came to the library. Luckily for the group, you were one of the most conscientious students in your year, so you'd all get away with things due to the teachers favouring you greatly. A few other groups were kicked out immediately.)You all sat in a cosy arrangement in the far back end of the library. Pansy sat on the floor beside you, whilst you lounged in an armchair, feet thrown over one arm. Blaise sat on the other arm of the chair, with Draco and Theodore sitting opposite you. Between the armchair and sofa facing one another was a third sofa and a small round table. Mattheo and Lorenzo sat on that third sofa. Lorenzo stretches, sprawled out as he props his feet up on the table. You reach out and slap him with the book you were reading, and he cowers sheepishly as he puts his feet down.
“I was looking forward to summer in Versailles,” Draco complains, and you sigh. Would be nice to be able to go on such trips.
“Actually…” Pansy says, sitting up as though she’s just had an idea. Knowing your friend, you can't help but feel terrified about what's about to come out of her mouth.
“My parents have a beautiful holiday home down in France and they're going to Australia this year, so it's not being used. Why don't we all spend a week there?” Pansy says.
It's actually a very clever Idea, and a chorus of murmurs of agreement and nods echo throughout the group.
“That actually sounds good” Lorenzo says, and Blaise hums in agreement.
“I have family who live in France so they could sort out travel for us when we are there. I'm sure I can go.” Baise says and Pansy claps her hands excitedly, rubbing them together like some kind of evil genius (sometimes you were sure she was.)
“Draco, Theo?” Pansy says, and the mention of Theo's name has your eyes flickering up from your book. He's looking at you but the second your eyes meet he quickly looks at Pansy and nods, clearing his throat.
“Huh? Oh, uh- yeah.Sounds good.” He says. You lightly smile to yourself as you look down at your book.
“ I suppose I’ll tolerate it.” Draco sighs, and a chorus of groans escapes the group at his melodramatic behaviour.
“Oh piss off Draco, just admit you like us,” Mattheo says and Draco scoffs.
The boys very quickly once again get into a semi-play fight, and a stern hush from Madam Pince as she glares at the group of you sends them both sheepishly quiet. She walks away and it’s your turn to glare at the two boys.
“She may like me now, but if you two don't shut up she sure as fuck won't, and ill set your robes on fire if you force me to get through the summer whilst being banned from the library.” You spit, scolding them.
Mattheo and Draco both look down like children being chastised and Blaise has to hide his amusement as he nudges your shoulder, getting up.
“Right well, that's our cue to leave anyway. Have the real match tomorrow so we need an early night.” Blaise says. One by one everyone gets up, Pansy pushing off the floor with a sigh as she dusts down her skirt.
She turns to you, raising a brow.
“You coming?” She asks, holding a hand out and you look up, shaking your head.
“Nah. Gonna stay here for a while. Finish reading this.” You say, holding up your book with a weak smile. Pansy shakes her head with a smile, ruffling your hair (much to your dismay).
“My little neek. Have fun!” She says, and you flip her off at the comment. She grins, blowing a fake kiss back at you as she manoeuvres past the wooden bookshelves and out of the library.
You sigh and feel as though you're sinking further into the plush armchair, a pillow held to your chest as you read your book. Everything about the library was so pleasantly calming. The dim lights that cast dancing shadows of the book spines across the wall. The bibliosmia that you inhaled deeply as you lay for what felt like hours, reading whatever you could get your hands on. You’re so caught up in the allure of the library (Pansy might have a point, you definitely were a neek), that you don't even notice the presence of someone coming to sit down on the sofa next to you until the sound of the leather cushions sagging under weight draws your attention up from the pages of the book.
Seriously? Were you actually that oblivious? It was extremely alarming if you were.
You look up and see Theodore moving to take a seat on the sofa next to you. He stretches out his legs, his large frame suddenly making the space seem a lot smaller.
“Hey.” He says, and your lips quirk up in a smile as you speak.
“Hey,” You respond, folding the corner of your book.
“What are you reading?” Theodore asks, and you raise a brow.
Did he really have an interest in the book you were reading? A few years ago the Theodore you knew would never touch a book (though he would listen to you ramble on about them for an hour.)
But Theodore has changed, And so have you. He’s no longer the Theodore you knew, and the reminder turns the feeling in your stomach unpleasant.
You hold up your book, weakly smiling as you show him the cover. It was rather beaten and bruised, but you had owned this copy since your first year. You’ve reread it more times than you can count.
“Little women,” Theodore says, a small smile of recognition on his face. He remembered you, always walking around with that book. Theodore couldn’t comprehend what half the words in the book meant, but he remembered hearing you talk about it and thinking you were truly the most incredible person he had ever met.
That hadn't really changed.
“Mhmm. Must be my 5th time rereading it this year.” You say, with a small smile, and Theodore lets out a low laugh.
He's looking down at the table, and you admire the way the dim light dances along his features, making them look surprisingly soft.
“Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts…” Theodore starts, gaze trained ahead.
“......because you can't have the one you want” You finish, quietly.
Theodore's gaze drops to his hands, fiddling with the threads on his bag. The air is thick with unspoken words. A quiet dance of regrets lingers in the spaces between your words.
"Little Women," Theodore repeats, his fingers tracing the zip on his bag. "I remember how you used to quote passages from that book like they were sacred verses. It was almost like a religion for you."
You can sense the undertone in his words—the acknowledgement of a shared past that now exists as a distant echo.
The silence that follows hangs heavy.
You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the worn pages of the book suddenly feeling like a fragile shield against the currents of emotion. Theodore's eyes, once familiar and comforting, now carry a hint of regret and a touch of something unsaid.
"Jo March was always your favourite," he continues, his voice soft, almost hesitant.
“Still is,” you say, and he nods, looking up at you. His smile is tight-lipped, and you fight the urge to reach forward and massage the furrow of his brow. He reaches into the side pocket of his bag, pulling out a book.
Little women.
You frown as you take the copy from him, flicking through it. There are scribbles and annotations all over the pages.
You hate the way you instantly recognise his handwriting - another testament as to how Theodore was weaved into everything you did.
Theodore takes the book back, his fingers lingering on the worn cover. He opens the book, thumbing through the pages, his eyes fixing on the annotations.
"I've been reading it," he admits, his voice a low murmur. "Annotating it. I wanted to see it through your eyes, to understand why it meant so much to you."
You watch him, and your heart clenches at his voice. At his eyes, At the way he speaks, and the way he keeps his head down. The realisation that he held onto this piece of you, even as you both drifted apart, is enough to send you into a spiral.
"I see you in these pages," Theodore continues, his gaze locking onto the annotated paragraphs. "I see you in between the lines, and in the words. I see you in Jo, I see you in the witty comments. Every time I read this, It's like a piece of you is still here with me."
A lump forms in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to push back the tears that threaten to spill over.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry
“Every time I read these words, I feel like I'm back with you, even if just for a moment." He admits, looking up at you.
The devastation in his eyes is surely mirrored in your own.
You want to cry. You want to shout, because how dare he sit here, and speak of you with such reverence, and act like he cares for you when he had forgotten about you so easily? How dare he say he sees you in everything he does when he looked right past you when you stood in front of him?
How dare he act like he missed you when he didn’t?
You can't say anything. You physically can't, because every time you open your mouth it hurts. Grief clings to the pipes, scratching at your throat. It restricts your breathing, it gnaws at you.
Theodore looks at you and clears his throat, quickly looking down. You fail to make out the fact that his own eyes are threatening to spill with tears, as your own teary eyes cloud your vision.
It was always like that with you and Theodore.
Amid your shared tears, the unspoken suddenly becomes the unsayable.
He gets up, and he can't bear to look at your face because every glance of those tears in your eyes eats away at his heart. He grabs his bag and throws it over his shoulder, rushing out for fear of what you might say.
“See you” He murmurs, walking away. You can’t tear your gaze away from where he walks away even as his form disappears, and you swear the boy had taken part of your heart with him.
The quote “Fate was a cruel mistress” Never made much sense to you. Fate was beautiful even in its destructive nature. Fate was unstoppable, she didn't wait for anyone or veer away. You used to admire that about her. You found it to be a beautiful thing. Of course, it's because you also believe that fate would only wait for you. Wait that one extra second. Then, perhaps, Theodore and you would be on the same path. Instead, you were two, walking the same path only a heartbeat apart. As if time itself conspires to teach that love can occur in the same book, but pages apart.
You cannot love the beauty of her tenacity and cower from it too.
424 notes
·
View notes
so I saw your requests are open. It seems that Astarion believes- at least in the beginning- that his purpose is to give pleasure. He does it to survive, he does it to gain Tavs trust and affection... what if Tav takes it upon herself to pleasure him. I HC Astarion is more dominant as he regains his autonomy, after centuries of having no say or control hiw would he react to Tav gently kissing him, asking him to let her make him feel good for a change. He's spent all this time giving, he deserves to receive for once. Expecting nothing in return.
Yaaas, let's go. I think I may have made this a lil fluffier than what you had in mind but hopefully it works! Playful/Sweet Tav! This is set before he admits his feelings but still in act 2 so he's like close!
TW: They bang and it's graphic under the cut with some mentions of his backstory, which is fucked up. But yeah, sexing is occurring. 18+ That's it. Pretty sweet outside of his backstory.
~
Astarion was aware the sex could be enjoyable, despite the centuries of the act being used against him. There had been glimmers of genuine pleasure through it all, mostly poisoned by the knowledge of what happened to all of his conquests when the job was finished after, but still. They were there.
Enough for Astarion to be somewhat prepared for the loveliness of being with you. When he had made the choice to seduce you, he had done it assuming that sex would be mediocre at best, and unpleasant at worst.
But no. Instead it just felt... wonderful. A word that Astarion was not used to associating with the deed. Though he supposed it made sense. He did like you after all, even outside of the protection he could get out of you. You were intelligent enough to make for good conversation; you were fun, mischievous even. Enough to match up with his own bitchy little quips. But you were also... sweet. Caring even, though it seemed you had a habit of giving that care to the least deserving mortals in the realm.
Not that that was a bad thing. He had been more than ready to use that kind nature against. It was so easy to worm his way into your heart. And the sex was good? Astarion's luck was almost certainly on the edge of running out, but he'd happily take advantage of the streak while he could.
You were just... so submissive. So ready for him to take the lead. Astarion had developed many personas in bed over the centuries, cultivating them for whatever situation he may need. But they were always tools, it had little or nothing to do with what he wanted. Just what he could use to lure them back to their deaths.
In all honesty, he had tried to do the exact same with you, and he would have too if he hadn't lost control on that first night. But then you had to bare your neck to him, the siren song of your blood screaming at him to bite. And then he just... lost control.
Was it the best sex of Astarion's life? Yes. Was he about to tell you that? No.
And it kept being good. Even on the nights he didn't drink from you, he liked it. Borderline loved it, if he was emotionally capable of associating that word with you. And he wanted to enjoy it while he could. He knew deep down that this was temporary, for more reasons than one. Soon enough he simply wouldn't need you anymore. After you defeated the demon for Raphael, Astarion would have some idea of Cazador's plans, and maybe enough to figure out a way to secure his freedom for good. And unless you planned on killing the man yourself, he... wouldn't have any reason to keep the facade going. Not to mention the obvious fact that you could wake up from your lust-induced stupor and break things off at any moment. Astarion wasn't looking forward to either outcome. But how else would this end? It's not like the two of you could set off into the sunset together, like some inane fairytale.
... right?
Astarion wasn't quite sure anymore. And he certainly wasn't going to figure it out any time soon. It was easier just to push the whole thing out of his mind. Especially now, when the two of you finally had a private room at the Last Light Inn, thank the gods. One more night of calm before they rushed into a temple full of horrors.
It was hard to hide his excitement as he pushed you onto the bed, his fangs already sharpening in anticipation. He wanted you to be marked head to toe by the end of the night, bites, bruises, anything and everything to remind you that you were his.
At least for tonight.
"Wait, wait!" You laughed as Astarion crawled over you, wasting no time in trying to claw your clothes off.
But the ask was enough to make him pause, a flash of worry running through his when he asked, "What's wrong? Did I- are you okay?"
You shook your head at him with a smile, your legs suddenly wrapping tightly around his waist "Nothing sweetheart, I'm fine. But..."
The next thing Astarion knew you were always flipping him over, so fast that he couldn't help but be impressed. He always underestimated just how strong you were. You grinned down at him as you sat atop his thighs, your hands rubbing over his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, "But I think it's my turn to spoil you for a change."
Astarion furrowed his brow, sincerely confused for a moment. And maybe even a little self-conscious, "Why? I mean-do you not like how-"
"You're very good darling," You gently interrupted with a laugh, your hands already working to pull his shirt over his head, laughed as you sat atop his thighs, doing the work to unbutton his shirt, "Best I've ever had, sincerely. But don't you think that things have been a bit one-sided?"
He hadn't, not for a moment, but he sure as hells wasn't going to complain. Not when he had a gorgeous woman on top of him, one who was already doing the work of taking his cock out.
"Let me take care of you for once," You murmured as you started to stroke his length, pre-come already dribbling at the tip, "Anything you want is yours tonight. Just say the word."
Astarion blinked up at you, momentarily at a loss before regaining his usual confidence. Or at least some of it, "Taking your clothes off would be a fantastic start."
You laughed as you did just that, light and airy while you tore your shirt over your head. Astarion didn't waste any time in surging forward, latching his mouth around your nipple with a groan.
He wrapped his arms around your bare back, pulling you closer as you moaned.
"I'm supposed to be pleasing you," You panted as you slipped your skirt down your thighs, tossing it to the side as he suckled on your chest, "Remember?"
"Pleasing you pleases me," Astarion popped off with a chuckle, looking up at you with dark eyes, "Lovely thing that you are."
You softly smiled down at him before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. And then you were squirming away from him. Ducking out of his arms and lap.
He just hadn't expected you to sink to your knees in front of the bed. You rubbed at his thighs, so close to him that he could feel the heat of your breath against his length.
"Can I?" You asked coyly, the question sweet enough to make him shiver. He would never get tired of that, you always asking for permission for the smallest little things.
Astarion sat up with a smile and a nod, tangling his fingers in your hair as he said, "Of course my sweet, go right ahead."
And off you went. You wrapped your lips around the head, suckling on it like the little minx you were. You looked beautiful down there, your hair in disarray as you swallowed around his cock; more than happy to let him take the lead and force your head to take him fully down your throat.
You were drooling around him, staring up at him with your big wet eyes as you worked your tongue around him. It felt wonderful, amazing even. But it wasn't enough. As lovely as your throat was, it was only his second favorite place to store his cock.
"Get up here my love," Astarion ordered, his voice rough and his mind too preoccupied to notice his own slip. He tightened the hand in your hair, easing you off of his cock with a groan, "As wonderful as your mouth is, I want to be inside you."
You grinned up at him before gracefully standing, your breasts on full display, pretty enough to make Astarion's mouth water. You pushed him back first onto the bed before crawling over him again, the heat of your wet cunt so close to his sensitive cock. You gripped the base of it before rubbing the head over your folds, whimpering as you used him to circle your own clit.
It felt amazing, and it looked even better. But Astarion was nearly out of patience. He gripped your hips, his nails just on the edge of piercing your skin as he growled at you, "Are you trying to kill me darling?"
"Just the opposite," You breathily laughed as you finally started to sink down onto his cock, brokenly moaning all the while, "J-Just want to make you feel good."
You were so wet, tight and perfect around him. And the noises you were making, all of your little whimpers and whines. They would be haunting his dreams for years to come. But it still wasn't enough. Despite how lovely it was to have you bouncing in his lap, he couldn't help but thrust up inside of you, matching your movements in tandem.
You gasped as he really started to fuck into you, hard and deep enough to bring tears to your eyes. You were clutching at his chest, hard enough to make him bleed. Not that he cared. How could he when he had you like this? Desperate and needy as you pussy leaked slick onto him, so soaked that Astarion knew that you had to be close.
It had been a long instilled habit of Astarion to be sure his partner always reached their peak first. It was nearly ingrained in his DNA at this point, a pattern that he had no intention of breaking anytime soon.
But then you were leaning in to kiss him, something that shouldn't have caught him off guard, yet it did.
The press of your lips to his felt so soft, so sweet, nothing like the way he was savagely fucking into you. It was gentle, loving even. And before Astarion knew it he was coming, his end abrupt and explosive. It felt like fireworks bursting behind his eyes; he barely even had the wherewithal to move his hand to rub at your clit. But he managed, and soon enough you were crying out above him, your pussy clenching hard around his still leaking cock.
You were still kissing him in that same tender way, softly licking into his mouth as warmth overtook him. He felt... good. Too good even. Enough so where he barely knew what to do with himself.
You pulled away first, but you didn't go far. Thank the gods, Astarion wasn't... he didn't know if he could handle being apart from you at the moment. You rested your forehead against his, smiling down at him with a smitten look, one that made his heart clench.
"Did you like that?" You asked softly, wincing slightly as you pulled off of his cock, "Because I sure did."
I love you.
The thought came sudden and unbidden, screaming into the front of his mind without his consent. He didn't-he wasn't-why had that come into his head at all?
Astarion tried to stomp the wayward thought down as he gave you a strained smile.
"I loved it," He answered sincerely, the truth of his feelings far too close to the truth of his idiotic heart, "I-thank you darling. You really are amazing, aren't you?"
"Such a charmer," You sighed as you laid down next to him, reaching out to tangle your fingers together, "I really never stood a chance against you, did I?"
That was almost enough to make Astarion break out in hysterical laughter.
But instead he squeezed your hand, his eyes turned to the ceiling while a conflicted smile graced his face, "No. You never did."
He could only hope that continued to be true.
869 notes
·
View notes
Lock your door
Spencer Reid x Fem!reader
All y/n wanted was for her coworker to pay attention to her. Spencer was more than happy to oblige. Based on;
cw: 18+ explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), face sitting
wc: 3,9k (I'm a very descriptive writer you have been warned)
a/n: (reposted because of some error) I’m currently doing an ongoing series but once in a while, I like to write random plots, thus begins another series in which will all be one-shots based on songs i currently enjoy listening to… so yeah, this will be fun.
requests are open if you have a song in mind!
MASTERLIST
“…you better lock your door, and look at me a little more…”
Y/N WASN'T A SENTIMENTAL PERSON, but there was something about the way he looked tonight.
The fluorescent light coming from the hotel room danced across his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw. His eyes were in deep concentration as they scanned the document in his hand, his brows furrowed every time he came across something he couldn't comprehend.
Her eyes slowly raked down toward his Adam's apples, moving further across his chest, before they glided along the length of his arm. She couldn't help but notice the mesmerizing way his long fingers trailed along the words underneath his palm.
She always knew Spencer had nice, well-kept hands, but as she continued to observe them, she noticed how enticing they truly were. The size of them always surprised her, as well as the length of his fingers. But it was the veins running through the backs of his hands that really made her dry at the mouth, especially when the sleeves of his button-down shirt were folded above his wrists, showing off firm arms that didn't leave much to her imagination.
How long had she been staring at him? Gawking at him? It was hard to keep her eyes off of him when it was all she had been doing ever since she was introduced to the awkward twenty-four-year-old nerd that he was twelve years ago.
Twelve fucking years.
There should be some kind of reward for pining over your best friend for more than a decade. Y/n should be growing out of this yearning a long time ago yet somehow the more they worked together, the more it became hard for her to act as if every time his fingers innocently touched her skin there wasn’t this immense desire taking over her body, leaving her in a state of being completely swept away by the intensity of it.
Granted, Y/n knew she wasn't the only one attached to this infatuation. Words were never exchanged, although observing and analyzing people's behavior for a job helped her notice the exact same desire reflected in his eyes. She could tell in the way he looked at her, the way his pupils dilated every time he focused on her mouth.
But things between her and Spencer had always been complicated. Her early interest came unnoticed when the person he preferred to ask on a date was another one of their colleagues, and when he grew out of that brief crush and had the courage to finally ask her out, she was already in a relationship.
When that relationship ended begrudgingly and she needed a shoulder to cry on, Spencer's heart was already taken for a mysterious girl he guarded to himself. But that love affair only became a heartbreaking tragedy as it ended before it even began.
It was ever since then that Y/n made a mental note to never indulge her feelings toward one of the closest people in her life. She deemed it inappropriate after everything he'd been through, especially when he made it clear that getting involved with the opposite sex was the very last thing on his mind.
Until something shifted a few days ago.
She wasn't sure what it was. Perhaps it was the traveling into yet another foreign part of the country that made everything seem different, or maybe it was being in close proximity for more than forty-eight hours that had her watching him so earnestly.
But whatever it was, the sudden shift had her looking at the adorable young man he once was into this attractive, irresistible man she viewed as more than a mere friend. A man whose eyes glazed over her mouth this morning yet managed to be oblivious to how she was the one gawking at him now.
Maybe it was time to end their flirtatious dance. Maybe it was time to stop skirting along the what-ifs flowing in her mind. Y/n glanced at the man in front of her, watching the way his back hunched over the table as he buried himself further into deep concentration.
“Spence."
He hummed a soft response, his eyes still trailing the words printed on the document.
"Spencer."
He slightly tilted his head, an indication he was listening but kept himself busy as he continued his reading.
"Dr. Reid."
There was a certain cadence in her voice that sounded oddly pleasing. Spencer reacted to the low timbre of her voice with a glance, his eyes skimming along her leg which rested on top of the other, a glimpse of soft skin teasing his senses as the material of her dress lay softly against her thighs. His eyes snapped back to her face, noticing the lopsided smirk on her lips.
"What is it?"
"Aren't you going to take a break?" Her eyes shot toward the document in his hand. "You've been reading nonstop ever since I got here."
The latter statement was the one that caught his attention. "What's the reason you're here again?"
Y/n wondered whether explaining how she wanted to run her hands through his disheveled hair while he buried his face along her neck would be deemed appropriate. But she had too much pride to admit that. Instead, she uncrossed her legs with a satisfied glint in her eyes as she caught him staring.
She might not want to convey her attraction through words, but carrying out the art of seduction was a very different matter. Temptation had this alluring appeal that drew people in, a certain type of feeling that could often lead a person to do things they usually wouldn't do. And it was what she had in mind as she leaned over the table, the collar of her dress gracefully dropping with her movement, publicly displaying her cleavage.
"I thought you might need company," she simply said. "But I've been sitting here for almost an hour and you haven't engaged me in a conversation."
His eyes flared on the sensual way her breasts were pressed against her clothes before he quickly looked away. "Well, these documents aren't going to read for themselves."
She almost rolled her eyes at his response. "But aren't your eyes tired? Don't you want to take a break?"
He glanced at the stack of papers sitting on his side of the table. "I don't think that would be the wisest thing to do."
"Not even a five-minute break?"
"Especially a five-minute break."
She slumped in her chair as he diverted his attention back to his task, already engrossing himself in another document while ignoring the baffled look on her face. Was she looking at this differently? Was she wrong to think that some untold infatuation lingered between them all these years?
Y/n couldn't help but feel disappointed. Disheartened by the lack of attention, she abruptly stood up and moved along the carpet floor of his room. Her sudden movement caught him by surprise. "Where are you going?"
"Somewhere that might actually appreciate my presence."
She heard him heave out a sigh as he got up from his seat. "You know you're welcome here."
"Am I though?" She taunted, her hand already on the doorknob as she threw him a look over her shoulder. "You barely glanced at me, Spence."
"I was working. You know I need to find any potential evidence from all these files."
A sense of guilt washed over her as she watched him take a tentative step forward. "I know. I just... all I wanted was for you to look at me." Her guilt-ridden concern was replaced by embarrassment when he didn't respond. She quickly shook her head. "You know what? Never mind."
An immense feeling of shame and embarrassment traveled through her body as she turned around. What else was there to do than to flee from his scrutinizing gaze? Her hand gripped the doorknob before she pulled it, ready to fly out the room when a hand suddenly hovered over the edge of the door, softly pushing it back into place.
The sudden silence unnerved her, picking the pace of her heart when she realized she was very much flushed against his body. She could feel herself trembling as her grip slipped off the doorknob. She watched the way his long fingers glided down the hard surface of the door in intense interest.
His rough hand engulfed the lock on the door and she felt his other hand grasp her hair, slightly moving it away for better access to whatever he had in mind. His tone was quiet but undeniably gruff when he mumbled, “It's not that I don't want to look at you, Y/n.”
This was not how she had expected the night would go. Well, maybe it was what she had hoped for, but now that it was actually happening, she completely froze on the spot. She didn't know what to do, the gears in her head were moving to initiate a proper reaction but immediately came to a halt when his other hand banded around her waist as he pressed himself to her back, murmuring into the slope of her shoulders.
"But a five-minute break is not enough for me…”
His breath was hot on her neck.
“…to do..."
Her head lulled back as he pressed a kiss.
"…the things..."
Her skin shivered as he flicked his tongue.
"…I want to do to you."
She watched as he turned the lock back to its place, the sound a distinct echo in the room.
Everything went completely still. The air charged with an electric sense of excitement and nervousness, the type of charge that lead to anticipation. Spencer could feel the erratic pace of his heart as a surge of arousal rippled through his blood. It was definitely not a feeling he was used to, but it was very powerful and overwhelming in its intensity as he swiftly grabbed her arm.
Y/n let out an inaudible gasp when he turned her around, not because of the way her legs were stumbling by the impulsive contact, but by the sudden grip of his hand on her waist, steadying her momentarily in the midst of her trying to register what was happening.
"Spencer," his name a sigh from her lip. A hot spike raced through her body as if she had been struck by some force. Y/n took a shuddering breath, already knowing she would be helpless against the tingling wave he was building within her.
"What happened to your confidence?" He whispered with a coy smile.
She was growing dizzy, overwhelmed with the feeling of him everywhere, with how clear his intentions had become and how much she welcomed them. "I guess you've rendered me speechless."
And then his large hand cupped her whole face, tilting her up. His fingertips felt electric, for wherever they touched her skin tingled in a frenzy of static. She was mesmerized, captured by the spell he had on her.
There was a warm gust of air over her nose as he breathed out, "Are you sure?" His nose gently brushed against hers. "I'll stop if you tell me to."
Her fluttering eyes shot up at him. "Don't you fucking dare."
A satisfied smile curled on his lips as she waited for the moment to come, to explore every inch of his mouth. He finally pressed his parted lips on hers—and true to her imagination, his kiss was divine.
His lips felt soft and her mind went hazy when he started to move them. The push and pull of lips were exhilarating, the lazy mapping of their mouths molding together ascended the desire inside her. She exhaled a moan the moment he nibbled her bottom lip with a gentle brush of his tongue, her body burning with a new sense of need.
He gripped the base of her neck, keeping her locked to his mouth in their exchange of breaths, their tongues grazing, dancing, colliding with one another. And between her breathless moan of pleasure, he was making his own delightful noises, the various groans and growls coming from deep within his chest only made her beg for more.
Spencer slowly pulled away, eyes slamming shut as his forehead met hers, gasping for the much-needed air. "You," he growled under his ragged breath. "Taste better than I imagined."
Her head was spinning. How could he consume her so much? They were practically pressed against each other like hot glue yet she wondered whether there was any possible way to crawl under his skin. It wasn't enough, she craved more. More than his kiss. More than his tongue—she wanted more of him.
Y/n slightly pulled away, her hands skimming along his arms before they grasped onto the bottom hem of her dress, and without warning, she managed to pull the piece of clothing over her head with one swift motion.
Spencer stood there, utterly impressed and furthermore aroused. His eyes raked over her half-naked body with absolute adoration. "I see you've gained your confidence back."
She threw her dress to the floor. "Most of it anyway."
There was nothing more bewitching than her half-naked form, yet he wanted more of her, he needed to have her fully undressed in his arms. Spencer carefully grabbed her hand and guided her further into the room. He slowly dropped himself on the edge of his bed and parted his legs, gently slipping her between them.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, his hands gliding along her skin. "Gorgeous, just absolutely gorgeous."
Her hands skimmed along his shoulders before she ran them through his tousled hair as she stood between the firmness of his legs, enjoying the pure admiration in his eyes. There was something mesmerizing in those hazel orbs, tantalizing her self-confidence as her fingers moved over to the front of her bra, unhooking the clasp before it slipped over her shoulders so effortlessly.
When she was finally free from the confinement of her undergarment, Spencer let out a satisfied sigh, because right in front of him were the most perfect breasts he could ever possibly imagine. His hand danced across her skin, feeling her body tremble underneath his palm as he let a thumb graze over her already hard nipple. The moan she let out was unbelievably exotic and there was nothing else he wanted to do than to hear more of it.
So he let his finger trail down her stomach before he grabbed the edges of her underwear and finally, but oh so slowly, pulled them down her smooth legs. Once they were off, he leisurely observed her nudity, his eyes sweeping over her wet flesh, flushed and swollen, the warmth radiating from her core made every part of him swell. He slowly guided a hand up her leg.
"Spencer," she breathed, clutching onto him even tighter. "Please."
His fingers brushed her inner thigh, so close to where she burned but not close enough for her to feel the satisfaction she desired. "Please what?"
She whimpered desperately. "Touch me."
"And where do you want me to touch you?"
"Everywhere."
What was a man to do when he was asked with such urgency? Such fervor? Spencer looked up at her and smiled, placing a gentle kiss between her breast before motioning her toward the bed. "Lay on your back."
She did as she was told and when she was finally on her back with him pressed to her side, Y/n shuddered at the touch of fabric from his clothes. There was something vulnerable about being the only one naked, yet somehow the roughness grazing her skin merely intensified her arousal.
She inhaled a sharp breath as she was met with a pair of hooded eyes looking down at her with undeniable lust. She felt electricity in her body, hormones shutting down her higher brain, and from there on in it was all passion, intense, intoxicating. He leaned forward, a hand unhesitatingly pushing her locks out of the way to expose her slender neck. His rapid breathing sent shivers down her spine, his lips almost brushing her ear as she closed her eyes.
Spencer trailed small kisses along her jawline, down to her throat, and pressed another kiss on the spot below her ear. She let out a satisfied moan as he sucked the spot leisurely, feeling herself shudder at his touch, sending her into another trance of delight.
She writhed at the electrifying touch of his fingertips and the thread of control that seemed to remain in him snapped as he lunged at her, pressing into her mouth. She gasped at the force and like the man he grew to be, he took that opportunity to slip his tongue, tasting every corner of her mouth. Her taste overwhelmed his senses as he devoured her, hands sliding in her hair, tugging at her, twisting and moving her to his liking.
Her scent was filling his nostrils, her delicate fragrance intoxicating his brain, pulling him even deeper into the spell she was casting on him. His smile was wicked against her lips as his hand engulfed her breast, feeling her shiver underneath him, her breath becoming rapid as she felt his thumb stroking her nipple.
Her aroused nub tightened at his touch, screaming, begging for his utmost attention. He gladly obliged her desire, his mouth trailing down her collarbone, letting his tongue brush along the curve of her breast before his lips hovered above her swollen peak, ravishing it into his mouth.
She arched her back, a moan escaping her lips as the sensation shot through her body, a thrill of arousal pooling in the heat of her core. He pulled away for a moment before ravishing her other peak, gently tugging it with his teeth before sinking in her flesh with the heat of his mouth.
"Beautiful," he murmured to no one but himself as his eyes took in the sight of her naked chest. His tongue flickered out teasingly on her hardening nub before he looked straight into her eyes. "You're so beautiful."
Then his finger continued its teasing brush, gliding along her skin as she writhed uncontrollably, waiting for him to touch the place she desired the most. It was torture. Evil, wicked torture as he leisurely took his time into taunting her that she let out a frustrated sigh.
"Spencer..."
He smiled amusedly, feigning innocence. "What?"
Y/n was never one to beg. Her job taught her to stand her ground and to be resilient whenever she had to face any type of obstacle. But right now, as his touch burned her skin in ways she never thought possible, she really didn't care.
"Baby, please..."
The unexpected term of endearment sent a sensational thrill along his body before a satisfied grin stretched across his lips. "Now how can I say no to that?"
This time when his hand slipped lower, she slowly suck in an anticipatory breath through her teeth that she held until his fingers swiped achingly light over her slit. She let out an audible gasp when she felt the pressure of his fingers over her, teasing her ever so slightly as her eyes rolled at the back of her head. He ran his fingers between her folds, making her flinch at the sensitivity and without warning, without mercy, they plunge into her.
A heavy tide of delight hit her, tension snapping inside. Strong waves emanate from her core, ecstasy racing through every inch of her body as his fingers swelled inside her wetness, moving at a rapid yet lazy pace. Her hips bucked against his fingers, following every movement they made as they stretched inside her, building the most sensational feeling throughout her body.
She closed her eyes, ready to simply enjoy the thrilling pleasure he was bringing to her when he suddenly pulled his fingers out and she whimpered at the loss. He dragged his tongue along his lips before lying on his back, pulling her along with me. "Come here."
She followed him, her legs on either of his side when he motioned her to move forward. "No," he hissed. There was a sudden shyness in his demeanor but his eyes reflected an immense amount of determination. "Sit on my face."
She gaped at him.
Never in a million years did she ever imagine those words to come out from his lips. If anyone told her that Spencer Reid, a certified genius with an IQ of 187, would ask her to sit on his face, she would've laughed. Yet here she was, crawling over him as he proved to her how lewd he could actually be.
Y/n felt the heat creeping along her cheeks as she settled on top of him, but his reassuring smile threw away any doubt she had in mind. He softly kissed her inner thigh before she lowered herself. She gripped the bed frame in front of her while his tongue flickered between her slit, and hooked his arms around her thighs, holding her in place as he devoured her hot flesh like a man starved.
Oh, fuck.
She must have said that out loud as she felt the vibration of his laughter on her skin. She faintly looked down at him and found his eyes boring into hers, watching her intently as he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked hungrily. The view was making her dizzy. The way his eyes bore into her own as his tongue wrapped around her wetness made her grind her hips, seeking more of the fraction.
He gave a long, languorous stroke with the flat of his tongue and sucked her into his mouth, tugging ever so slightly she could feel the pull in her throbbing clit. Then he spread his mouth wide over that sensitive nub and sucked even harder, a sudden stabbing sensation making her cry in pleasure. Her whimpers and moans grew louder as the coil in her stomach tightened, his tongue moving faster while he felt her clenching around his mouth.
Y/n could hear how wet she was as he worked her sex relentlessly. The cadence of his tongue was making her delirious. The warm, delicious tingle radiating from his touch was flooding over her that she knew she was approaching the end. His growl rumbled against her wetness as she spasmed, her face a mess of sweat and tears as he lapped up her folds, his tongue sliding into her and pressing on the walls.
And then she shattered—breathlessly, tiredly, heavenly. Her toes curled as she screamed out his name, releasing her grip on the bed frame before burying them in his tousled hair; pulling, grabbing, then throwing herself back as the intensity of the feeling rushed in her blood. She let out a sob as he eased her through her orgasm, rubbing her thighs while they shook around his head.
Her mind went completely blank a few minutes later. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t speak. She merely notice her body shaking with satisfaction as he carefully helped her down, settling her naked body on top of his. The gentle sound of his breathing filled her ears as she felt soothing hands running over her.
They stayed like that, drenched in her sweat with her head on his chest and her legs draped over him. Then after a moment of relishing each other's presence, his deep voice cut through the silence. "You're amazing."
She finally had the will to lift her head up and laughed. "Shouldn't I be the one saying that?"
The indicated compliment made him smile. Silence engulfed them and at that moment it seemed as if there were a lot of things to be said, but somehow neither wanted to initiate the conversation. He pulled her closer and she leaned in his embrace—then his phone rang suddenly before she could even relax.
She groaned. "How much do you want to bet that that's Garcia?"
"Or Hotch." Spencer's hand glided down her back. "We should probably see what they want."
"We should."
But they didn't move and his phone suddenly stopped its chime. Their peace was once again interrupted by another call that came from her phone this time. Y/n let out a sigh. "We should really go."
He nodded, but before she peeled herself off, her eyes cautiously narrowed on him. She could practically feel the blood and adrenaline pumping and coursing through her vein as a rush of hesitation enveloped her. "Can we... finish this later?"
But then her heart brimmed with affection at how his smile lit up, a wide, radiant grin that pierced her skin and traveled straight to her soul. And there he was, underneath the mature lines swept across his handsome face was the adorable man her heart had always ached for.
"Oh, absolutely," he spoke, his fingers trailing over her naked flesh. "We'll definitely finish this later."
2K notes
·
View notes
Green Eyed Monster (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)
Synopsis: Melissa doesn't like your new friendship with Ashley
Words: 5.4k
Warnings: smut, jealousy, praise kink, marking, possessive behaviour, swearing
Melissa clenched her jaw, eyes trained on you. You laughed, your shoulder bumping against Ashley’s as she showed you something on her phone. That laugh was Melissa’s, the one that always made her stomach swoop. Delighted and giggly, teeth sunk into your lip as if you were trying to stifle it. She never wanted you to stifle it.
You lent closer to Ashley, whispering something. She’d never seen her aide so quiet, not shouting or talking over someone or singing some song with stupid lyrics. She strained her ears, trying to hear what you were saying but Janine was rambling about something and she missed whatever it was. She stabbed at her salad over and over again.
“Send me the link,” you said, standing from the couch.
“You know I will,” Ashley said before tapping something into her phone.
You slid into your usual seat at Melissa’s table, looking down at your phone. You shot a smile at Ashley before tapping on something. Melissa was staring at you, trying to see your phone screen as something bubbled in her chest. Something dark and dangerous and familiar.
“Didn’t realise you were friends,” she spat across the table at you.
You looked up, eyes widening at whatever expression was on her face. You glanced to Barbara then back to her.
“Uh, yeah, I guess,” you said, and she didn’t like the uncertainty in your voice.
“Since when?” she asked.
“Since I wasn’t the one who had to work with her,” you replied slowly, “why? Am I not allowed to be?”
“No, no, it’s fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in her seat, “do what you want.”
“Alright,” you replied, “well, right now what I want to do is go prep in my classroom so I’m going to go.”
And just like that you were out of your seat and walking out of the room, leaving an empty feeling in Melissa’s chest. She watched you, pressing her lips together to keep from shouting something after you. She’d lost that one, she knew it.
“Are you gonna tell that young lady how you feel or we going to have to sit in suspense for another semester?” Barbra asked.
“What?” She turned to look at her friend.
“You clearly like that girl. You should just tell her,” she said.
“I do not,” she said, “I just don’t like her being friends with Ashley.”
“Yeah and next you’ll be saying the sky isn’t blue,” Jacob said, laughing as he nudged Janine.
She turned to look at him over her shoulder, glaring at him so hard her recoiled. Without Janine catching him he would have fallen from his seat which did help settle the feeling in her chest.
“I say tell her,” Janine said, “love is great. More people should be in love.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” she snapped.
Only later, at the end of the day, you stopped by her room to talk to Ashley and not her. You were standing at the back of her classroom, whispering over a phone while she watched on from her desk. That same bubbling feeling was growing in her chest, the plastic of the pen in her hand beginning to creak threateningly.
You looked up from the phone, smiling at Ashley, your hand resting on her forearm. She knew what that felt like, the feeling of your fingers lingering long after you’d left. There was no possible universe where Ashley would appreciate that feeling. And that smile. Bright and happy and like Ashley had done something spectacular for you. That was her smile when she brought you donuts in the morning or shared her baked ziti with you.
You tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and she watched your fingers. She must have seen you do that exact move thousands of times before but now it made her grind her teeth as you looked up from under your eyelashes as you did it. Only you were looking at the wrong person. And that giggle again.
The pen in her hand snapped.
Your eyes shot up to her, finally looking at her for the fist time since entering the room. Your mouth fell opened and she saw you take a startled breath in. She had no idea what her face was doing but a look of concern flashed over your face and you took a hesitant step forward. She ignored it, looking back down at her marking, refusing to acknowledge you.
She heard your goodbye to Ashley, heels clicking as you walked out the door. It was the longest she’d seen Ashley stay after school the entire time she’d been her aide. Which only made her glare at the young woman.
The next morning, at the copier getting ready for the spelling test she had to give that day, she saw you walk in, making a beeline right for Ashley. Your smile was excited, as if you’d been waiting all morning to see her.
“Hey,” you said, “look.”
You passed your phone over to her, heads bent together. You giggled at whatever she whispered to you, your eyes darting up, finding her staring at you. Your smile dimmed and she felt her stomach drop. That was never a look that was meant to be pointed in her direction. Turning your attention back down to your phone, you whispered something else to Ashley before turning on your heels and walking away, not sparing a backwards glance at her.
She thumped the side of the copier, trying to hurry it up.
“Girl, you got some tension you need to work out,” Ava said, sweeping past her.
She growled, thumping the copier again.
She didn’t see you again until lunch where you’d managed to peel yourself from your new shadow. You were sitting in your seat, the one at her table, looking as of you belonged there. You looked up from your phone, offering her a small smile, like you were worried about your reception. She snorted, sitting in her own seat.
“Hey, is everything okay?” you asked, leaning towards her.
The scent of your perfume brushed against her and she could feel the warmth of your body. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed it, craved the way it made her feel when you looked at her with that burning intensity. How you were so good at making her feel as if no one else had your attention but her.
But now that was all for someone else’s benefit.
“Fine,” she huffed.
Your smile dimmed again and you lent back. The weight of your gaze was heavy on her, making her skin feel too tight. She looked away from you, not able to handle seeing the hurt she’d caught a glimpse of swimming in your eyes.
“Have I done something?” you asked.
“What makes you think that?” she asked, pulling out her lunch, as casual as possible.
“You’re being… you know what, it doesn’t matter,” you said, “I’m going to go eat somewhere else.”
You stood and her entire body froze. Hesitating a moment, you waited as her eyes dragged up to you. With one hand splayed on the top of the table, you lent towards her until you were invading her personal space.
“I know when I’m not wanted,” you said.
Her stare was hard as she watched you walk from the room. She stabbed at her food but her appetite had left her. She flung the container back on the table, glaring at it as if it had personally offended her.
“You handled that one perfectly.”
She shot a glare over her shoulder at Jacob. His face bled of what little colour there had been and his gaze snapped down to the sad sandwich he was eating. She waited a moment, making sure he didn’t think he was able to comment on her personal life.
“What did you say to that girl?” Barbra asked, sliding into her seat.
“Nothing,” she said, “there’s nothing to say to her.”
“Someone must have said something to her because she’s looking mighty upset,” she said.
“Fuck,” she muttered to herself.
Slamming her hands on the table, she stood and stalked out of the room. She wasn’t going to sit there and listen to how upset she’d made you. Not if she wanted to be calm enough to teach children how to tell the time.
Not if she wanted to be able to look herself in the eye ever again.
She paused outside your classroom door, taking a moment to steel herself. If she was going to apologise she had to be in the right state of mind. And that state of mind usually included more alcohol than she was allowed at school. Her hand landed on the door handle, peeking through the small window inside.
You were perched on one of the desks, arms curled around your body, staring down at your feet. Her heart constricted when she saw you reach up and brush a tear from your cheek. She’d done that. That was her fault.
“Maybe I was stupid,” she heard you say, and the sight of Ashley spinning in your chair caught her eye, “I just don’t know.”
“She never lets me sit in spinny chairs,” she said instead of answering you.
“Of course she doesn’t,” you said, “am I crazy?”
“Nah, she was sending vibes,” she replied.
“You are so much easier to understand,” you said, brushing away another tear.
“Thanks.” Ashley grinned at you and you gave her a reluctant watery smile in return.
Melissa pursed her lips, turning and walking down the hall to her own classroom. Clearly she wasn’t needed. You had someone else to comfort you. You didn’t need her.
She kept her distance for the rest of the week.
Friday night should have been her time to drown in a bottle of wine and then watch a fight in the parking lot of the closest Arby’s. Instead, she found herself standing in Jacob’s apartment, holding a glass of the second cheapest wine Jacob could find, pretending to listen to Zach talk about sneakers. She should have kicked Janine with her puppy dog eyes but she’d been promised booze and there were all kinds of emotions bubbling in her she wanted to tamp down.
She ignored the sound of the buzz, assuming it would be Barb. Downing the rest of her glass of wine, she turned away from Zach and disappeared into the kitchen for a refill. This time she went for something more in line with her feelings, finding a beer in the fridge.
The sound of your voice filtered into the kitchen. She froze, inhaling sharply, wondering how she hadn’t thought of this possibility. Slipping into the living room, she found you sliding out of your coat. She choked on the sip of beer she’d been about to drink.
Short skirt, low neckline, tight in all the right places, your dress was hot. You were hot in it. She bet you’d be hot out of it too.
Your eyes met hers and she saw you freeze for a moment before Jacob stole your attention to show you his ethically sourced furniture. She took another slug from the bottle. You glanced over your shoulder at her, lower lip caught between your teeth. What she wouldn’t give to sink her own teeth into that lip.
Ashley probably did it all the time.
Her eyes slid down your body without her permission. The way that dress hugged your ass had her clenching her fingers around the neck of her bottle. Obviously you’d dressed for someone. If Ashley showed up, she’d be leaving to keep from seeing how she appreciated you in that dress.
“Wow, that’s a nice dress,” Janine said, sliding up to her. She grumbled something, taking another swig of beer, “I wonder where she got it from. She looks amazing. Just wow. Really… great.”
“Whaddaya want, Janine?” she asked.
“Don’t you think she looks nice?” she asked.
“Hot woman in a hot dress. What’s not to like?” She shrugged.
You did that little fake laugh of yours, tucking some hair behind your ear. Jacob laughed along with you, clearly missing the way your nose scrunched up, telling her all she needed to know. Zach passed you a glass of red wine. You took a slow sip, your eyes finding hers again. Your tongue darted out, dragging along your lower lip and she felt heat rush over her skin.
She finished off her beer and shoved past Janine, returning to the kitchen for another. She pressed it to the skin of her neck, the cold glass a relief. The image of you still hovered in her mind, her breathing growing unsteady. Someone as hot as you should not be with someone as annoying as Ashley.
“Are you going to keep ignoring me?”
Your hip was resting on the doorframe, arms crossed, pushing up your chest in a way she was finding distracting. You weren’t smiling at her, eyes serious, the wine glass dangling from your fingers.
“What?”
She noticed the way you zeroed in on the way she opened the bottle, tipping it back as she drank from it. There was a slight flush on your cheeks and your eyes were smouldering. It was an addictive look on you.
“I don’t know what I’ve done,” you said, taking a step into the room, hips swaying, “but you’ve been an absolute bitch all week. You’ve been fighting with me and you’ve been ignoring me the last few days. I just want to know where I should set my expectations tonight.”
“I’m sure once Ashely is here you won’t even notice what I choose to do,” she replied, taking another drag from the bottle.
“Ashley isn’t coming tonight,” you said, “at least, I hope she isn’t. Please tell me Jacob didn’t invite her. I know they have that whole cup song thing but he wouldn’t do that to us, would he?”
“How should I know? She’s your girlfriend,” she snapped.
“I’m offended. I can do better than Ashley.” Your nose wrinkled, “she talks like a teenager.”
“Yeah, so? You’ve been off whispering in corners with her all week,” she said.
You paused, eyebrows drawing together before a slow smile began to creep over your face. You placed your glass of wine down on the counter, sauntering towards her. Your fingers brushed against the back of her hand, looking at her as if you found something incredibly amusing. She bristled, stepping back from you.
“Would you prefer I was whispering in corners with you?” you asked, taking another step towards her.
“No,” she scoffed taking another step back.
Her back hit the fridge. Your lips curled up, your hand landing beside her, caging her in. Her eyes flicked down your body, barely brushing against hers, then back to your face. Your tongue ran along your wine stained lips as you considered her.
“Do you know what we were whispering about?” you asked.
“I don’t care,” she growled.
“I was asking her for a recommendation. See, she knows where to buy hot clothes at a bargain and you know what our pay checks are like. And I knew Jacob was hosting this little soiree tonight. I wanted to find something a bit sexy to wear,” you said, drawing impossibly closer to her.
Your perfume was wrapping around her and your fingers were brushing over the skin of her wrist. The way you were looking at her was making her head spin.
“You trying to seduce someone?” she spat out, hoping to get you away from her.
If not Ashley, she didn’t want to watch you seducing one of the other teachers. Who could it possibly be? No one would be insane enough to be interested in Janine and Gregory was boring.
“Yes,” you said before she could consider it more, “you.”
Her mouth fell open. Your gaze dipped down to her lips and heat filled her veins once again. Your fingers were gentle as they plucked the bottle from her, leaning over to put it on the bench. Your breath ghosted over the skin of her neck and she shivered, fingers itching to touch you.
“I thought if I was lucky, you’d show up tonight and I’d be here in a sexy little number and you’d see me as more than just a teacher you know from school,” you said, “only I didn’t account for your jealousy.”
“What jealousy?” she managed to say.
“Just admit it. You wanted to be the one I’m off whispering in corners with. You hated me being nice to Ashley,” you said.
“You were ignoring me to talk to her,” burst from her chest.
“Mel, you were ignoring me. And when you weren’t ignoring me you were being mean,” you said and there was a stab of shame in her gut, “I thought you were mad at me so I was giving you space.”
“And yet you still wore the hot dress,” she said.
“You think the dress is hot?” You were smiling at her now and she’d missed being on the receiving end it.
“Course it’s hot. You’re hot in it. No one’s gonna argue about that,” she said.
“And do you like the colour of it?” you asked, stepping back so she could see it properly.
“Yeah it’s red. Red is good,” she said, eyes sweeping over your body.
“You don’t think it’s too short?” you asked.
Her eyes dipped down to your legs, lingering longer than was appropriate.
“No,” she replied, eyes snapping up again. Her brain was full of the image of running her hands up those legs, pushing past the hemline of your dress, watching them fall open so she could disappear between them.
“Can I tell you a secret?” you asked, drawing closer to her again.
“Sure,” she said.
“When I was getting dressed for tonight, all I could think about was you taking it off me later,” you murmured, lips ghosting over the shell of her ear.
You drew back.
“Of course, if you’d rather I just go show Ashley then I’m sure I can find her location from her instagram story,” you said.
“The fuck you will.”
Her hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. She tugged you forward, stumbling against her body already leaning on the fridge. Her other hand came up, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. Her lips captured yours in a searing kiss. Your tongue was in her mouth and your hands had found their way under her leather jacket, pinning her hips to the fridge. You moaned into her mouth, bodies pressing together and she realised she couldn’t get enough of you.
Her hand grasped your ass, so beautifully displayed by the stupid dress you’d bought to impress her. One of her legs pressed between yours, thigh tensing as you groaned again. Your hands slipped under her shirt, seeking out skin. She arched into your touch, teeth sinking into your lower lip finally. The little whine sound that came from you made the wait worth it.
“Are you two done fighting now? Only we’re out of-“
You turned, pulling away from her lips. She glanced over your shoulder, finding Janine in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth open, and empty chip bowl in her hand.
“Oh my gosh,” she said.
“Do you want to get out of here?” you asked, turning back to her.
“Yes.”
She grabbed your hand, marching you past Janine, through the living room and out the door, refusing to say anything to any of her colleagues. You threaded your fingers through hers.
“We’re going back to your place, right?” you asked.
“Would you rather we go to yours?” she asked.
“No, my neighbours shout,” you replied, with a small shake of your head.
The way you were looking at her was full of promises she was hoping to cash in on. She held the door open for the passenger seat of her car. You reached up, pinching her chin between thumb and forefinger. You kissed her, slow and lingering over the top of the door, leaving her breathless and desperate for you. The smile you gave her as you slid into the car was just like the one you used to give her when she shared her lunch with you. The one that made her feel besotted with you.
Her hand was on your thigh the entire drive home. She took speed limits as suggestions and red lights as challengea. The soft skin of your thigh was so tempting beneath her fingertips. You were watching her the entire drive, those eyes of yours practically devouring her.
“I can’t believe you thought I was interested in Ashley,” you said, “who could be when you’re there?”
“She’s closer to your age than me,” she said.
“First day, you walked past and said you didn’t care who I was and I knew I’d do anything to make you look twice at me,” you said.
“That’s bull,” she laughed.
“You were wearing those leather pants and that pink top of yours. You looked me over head to foot and it was the sexiest thing. Who cares about Ashley? You’re the only one I’ve seen since meeting you.”
“Hon.” Her fingers tightened on your thigh, “if you keep talking like that I’ll have to pull this car over and we do it in the backseat.”
“No one comes even close to comparing to you, Mel,” you said.
“Sweetheart,” she warned. She felt the way your thighs pressed together.
You chuckled, leaning across the console to press a lingering kiss to her cheek. The car screeched to a halt as she braked hard. She was reaching across to you without thought, grabbing your face to kiss you like she hungered for you. You moaned into her mouth, fingers burying themselves in her hair, making her need you more than she needed air.
The hand on your thigh slipped further up, pressing against your underwear covered core. You gasped, hips bucking against her fingers. She pressed more insistently, finding your clit, wanting to hear you moaning her name. She chuckled against your mouth, drawing back to watch your face as she circled a finger over your bundle of nerves. You were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen when you were desperate for her.
“Mel,” you whined.
“I warned you, hon,” she said.
You tugged on the hair tangled in your fingers until she was determined to claim you in every way possible.
“Get out of the car,” she commanded.
“What?” you whimpered as she took her hands from your body.
“Out.”
She undid her seatbelt, climbing from the car. She listened as you fumbled with the car door, rushing to meet her. Catching you around the waist, she pressed you to the car door, kissing you until she left you breathless.
“Come on.”
She laced her fingers through yours, tugging you forward. Your eyes widened as you looked up at her house. She shoved her door open, practically throwing you through it. The door slammed closed and the way you were looking at her made her blood thrum in her veins. She stalked towards you, reaching out.
Her hands landed on your ass, palming it as she pulled you closer. You wound your arms around her neck, kissing her slowly as if she wasn’t burning up with need. She pulled you closer, kissing you deeper until she felt you melt against her. The way you whined into her mouth went right between her legs.
Her lips trailed down, nipping at your earlobe before she found your pulse point. Your head fell back as she began to suck, one of her legs slotting between yours again. The breathy moan that fell from your lips made her press more insistently against you, wanting to hear it again. The flush of pride from the way your hips pressed down against her thigh made her nip at your skin.
“Fuck, Mel,” you groaned, “want you so bad.”
“I know you do, baby.”
She kissed you again, hauling you up into her arms. Your legs wrapped around her waist, kissing her deeper, longer, as if you’d never get enough of her. She hummed, slowly ascending the stairs. You were whimpering, tongue mapping your mouth.
Lowering you onto her mattress, she sunk her teeth into your lower lip again, certain she’d never grow tired of the way you arched towards her when she did. Your fingers buried themselves in her hair, tugging in a way that set the fire flaming high within her.
“Please, Mel,” you moaned as her hands skimmed up your body.
She cupped your breasts, leaning back to watch the way your eyes glazed over when her thumbs found your hardening nipples through the soft fabric. Your hands found her hips, fingers digging in, pulling until she landed on the bed, knees landing either side of your lap.
“I hope you know,” she murmured, pinching at one nipple, “I’m planning on fucking you in this dress.”
“I was hoping you would,” you said.
“And then I’m gonna undress you and fuck you on every surface in my house,” she said, watching the way your mouth fell open.
Your hands slid up her spine, pressing her forward as you surged up to kiss her. She nipped at your bottom lip, beginning to slowly roll your nipple, listening to your small sigh. You were arching into her touch and she smiled against your lips.
“Need you,” you groaned as she sucked your earlobe into her mouth.
Her teeth scraped over it as she moved one hand down, finding the hemline of your skirt again. She skimmed her fingertips up your inner thigh. They parted under her touch. She lifted herself off your lap, just enough to push your legs further apart, hand cupping over your heat. Pushing your underwear aside, she stroked her finger through your folds, enjoying what she found there.
“Is this all for me, baby?” she asked.
“Yes,” you hissed, “all yours. Please. Mel, please.”
The sound of you begging was music to her ears. She slowly began to circle your clit, watching as your face contorted in pleasure, hands squeezing her hips.
“Or maybe instead of fucking you right now, I should just keep touching you like this. Keeping you right on the edge,” she said, finger ghosting against you instead of giving you what you wanted, “showing up in this dress, trying to get me worked up, making me jealous. Maybe you don’t deserve to cum.”
“No,” you whined, “just wanted to be pretty for you.”
“Just for me?” she asked.
“Only for you,” you gasped, hips shifting to try and get her to touch you more.
“And who’s are you?” she asked.
“Yours,” you groaned as she touched you more insistently, “only yours.”
“Good girl.”
The way your mouth fell open again, a breathy moan and hips jumped towards her touch had her very interested. Something to file away to explore later. You pulled her into another kiss as her finger found your entrance. Your hips bucked up. She sucked your bottom lip into her mouth, finger pressing into you.
Your head fell back, your strangled groan like music to her ears. The column of your neck on full display was more than she could resist, lips pressing to it, running along it, tasting your skin. She slowly began to pump her finger, quick to add a second when you begged her for more. Her thumb found your clit again.
“Oh god,” you moaned.
She curled her fingers, her name falling from your lips like a prayer. She would worship your body to hear you just like that over and over again.
“Being so good for me, baby,” she said.
You whined, internal muscles fluttering around her fingers.
“Look at you,” she continued, “so beautiful, so gorgeous, all mine.”
Her teeth sunk in where your shoulder met your neck. Your strangled gasp was loud in her ears. She wanted to leave her marks littering every inch of your body. She wanted to see where she’d been later. She wanted you to know who owned your body when you looked in the mirror.
“Come on, baby,” she murmured, “tell me what you want.”
“You,” you gasped out, “just you.”
The palm of her hand ground against your bundle of nerves, fingers slamming into you. You were a moaning mess under her touch, begging her, words turning incomprehensible. She drew back, watching you, wanting to have this moment burned into her brain forever. There was nothing so beautiful as you desperate for her. No one was ever going to touch you like this again.
“Cum for me,” she whispered.
You cried out her name, muscles clamping down on her fingers. She worked you through it, drinking in every single moment. There was no part of you she didn’t want, no part of you that wasn’t beautiful. The blissed out smile on your face only made her want you more.
You reached for her, drawing her into another kiss, slow and steady. Her fingers were still buried in you and her thumb brushed against your clit. You made a small noise, muffled by her mouth and she did it again, feeling the flutter of internal muscles again.
“Mel,” you mumbled against her lips.
“Yes, hon?” she asked, drawing back.
You were looking at her like she’d hung the stars for you and like you wanted to devour her. She pressed another lingering kiss to your lips.
“What is it, sweetheart?” she coaxed, thumb brushing your clit again.
You inhaled sharply, eyes falling closed as your hips bucked up.
“Tell me,” she murmured, lips finding the soft spot behind your jaw.
“Wanna taste you,” you mumbled.
She pulled her hand from your underwear, sucking her fingers into her mouth. Her tongue swirled over her skin, tasting you. She groaned, wanting to drink right from the source.
“Mel,” you whined.
“In a moment, hon,” she said.
Tugging your ruined underwear from your body, she knelt between your thighs. Tongue swiping through your folds, she groaned. Your fingers tangled in her hair, pressing you closer as she feasted on you.
You were a babbling mess above her, thighs squeezing either side of her head. She moaned against your hot cunt, not able to stop herself. Your hips jumped up towards her, fingers tightening. Swirling over your bundle of nerves and dipping into your entrance, you writhed above her, her name nothing but a chant as you pressed her closer.
Your taste was driving her crazy. She could spend hours between your thighs, making you cum over and over again. She’d never wanted someone so much, never wanted anyone so badly.
You stiffened above her, fingers pulling on her hair. She lapped at you, cleaning you up, before she sat back on her heels, smirking up at you. With the back of her hand, she wiped your arousal from her chin, the flush of pride racing through her veins.
You tugged on her hair again, trying to kiss her. Her knees creaked but she let you drag her back onto the bed. Your kiss was needy, sloppy, warm, and she wanted every second of it.
“Still wanna taste you,” you mumbled against her lips.
“In a bit, sweetheart,” she said, “I think you need to catch your breath first.”
She tugged you further up the bed, settling down against the pillows. You curled against her side, and even with a need thrumming between her legs, just having you pressed to her side was a thrill. Your head rested on her shoulder, arm curling around her waist as you pressed closer.
“You still haven’t undressed me,” you murmured, lips brushing against her neck.
“We’ll work our way up to that,” she replied.
“Mel?”
You looked up at her, hair in disarray and eyes bright. You blinked and she realised she’d been staring at you.
“Yes, hon?” She brushed some of the hair away from your face.
“Were you really that jealous?” you asked.
“Yeah, hon,” she said, “I really was.”
You gave a self satisfied smile, snuggling against her again. Her hand slowly swept along your spine, enjoying the way you wiggled closer to her. Her lips pressed to the top of your head and you sighed.
“I’m not going home this weekend, am I?” you asked.
“No chance,” she replied.
“Good.”
697 notes
·
View notes
[Hanfu · 漢服]Chinese immortal Hanfu <西王母/Queen Mother of the West> Based On Yuan Dynasty Taoist Temple Mural<永乐宫/Yongle Palace>
【Historical Artifacts Reference 】:
▶ China Yuan Dynasty Taoist Temple 永乐宫/Yongle Palace Mural
<西王母/Queen Mother of the West>
The Queen Mother of the West, known by various local names, is a mother goddess in Chinese religion and mythology, also worshipped in neighbouring Asian countries, and attested from ancient times.
The first mentions of the Queen Mother date back to the oracle bone inscriptions of the Shang dynasty (1766 – 1122 BCE).
One inscription reads:
Crack-making on day IX (9th day), we divined. If we make offering to the eastern mother and the western mother, there will be approval.
Western Mother refers to an archaic divinity residing in the west. The exact nature of the Mother divinities in the Shang dynasty is unclear, but they were seen as powerful forces deserving of ritual by the people of the Shang dynasty.
Originally, from the earliest known depictions of her in accounts like the Classic of Mountains and Seas during the Zhou dynasty, she was a ferocious goddess of death with the teeth of a tiger, who rules over wild beasts and sends down heavenly punishments such as pestilences. She was also mentioned as an authority ruling over other divinities such as Jiutian Xuannü, a goddess of war and sex.
Other stories hold that she is a mountain goddess or a divine tigress. She is also popularly thought to have blessed the Eight Immortals with their supernatural abilities.
After her integration into the Taoist pantheon, she gradually took on associations with other aspects, such as immortality, as well.
The Queen Mother of the West is most often depicted holding court within her palace on the mythological Mount Kunlun, usually supposed to be in western China (a modern Mount Kunlun is named after this). Her palace is believed to be a perfect and complete paradise, where it was used as a meeting place for the deities and a cosmic pillar where communications between deities and humans were possible.At her palace she was surrounded by a female retinue of prominent goddesses and spiritual attendants. One of her symbols is the Big Dipper.
Although not definite there are many beliefs that her garden had a special orchard of longevity peaches which would ripen once every three thousand years,others believe though that her court on Mount Kunlun was nearby to the orchard of the Peaches of Immortality. No matter where the peaches were located, the Queen Mother of the West is widely known for serving peaches to her guests, which would then make them immortal. She normally wears a distinctive headdress with the Peaches of Immortality suspended from it.
Flourishing parasols, we reach the chronograms' extremity;
Riding on the mist, I wander to Lofty Whirlwind Peak.
The Lady of the Supreme Primordial descends through jade interior doors;
The Queen Mother opens her Blue-gem Palace.
Celestial people—What a Crowd!
A lofty meeting inside the Cyan Audience Hall.
Arrayed Attendants perform Cloud Songs;
Realized intonations fill the Grand Empty Space.
Every thousand years, her purple crabapple ripens;
Every four kalpas, her numinous melon produces abundantly.
This music differs from that at the feast in the wilderness—
So convivial, and certainly infinite.— Wu Yun (Complete Tang Poems 1967, line 4942)
One of the earliest written references to the Queen Mother comes from the writings of the Taoist writer Zhuangzi (c. 4th century BCE):
The Queen Mother of the West obtained it [the Dao]... ...and took up her seat at Shao kuang. No one knows her beginning; no one knows her end.
Zhuangzi describes the Queen Mother as one of the highest of the deities, meaning she had gained immortality and celestial powers. Zhuangzi also states that Xiwangmu is seated upon a spiritual western mountain range, suggesting she is connected to not only the heavens, but also to the west.
Legendary encounters
In Tu Kuang-ting's text, he includes narrative accounts of the Queen Mother's encounters with legendary Chinese heroes. One such account narrates an encounter between the Queen Mother and Laozi (Lord Lao):
"In the 25th year of King Chao of the Chou dynasty (1028 BCE) …"
"…Lord Lao and the realized person Yin Hsi went traveling…"
"…on their behalf, the Queen Mother of the West explicated the Scripture of Constant Purity and Quiet."
In this account, the Queen Mother plays the role of Laozi's superior and is credited with the ultimate authorship of the Dao De Jing. This dichotomy of the Queen Mother as the superior is a characteristic of Shangqing Taoism, a goddess worshiping sect of Taoism of which Tu Kuang-ting was a master. There is also an account of a meeting between the Queen Mother and Laozi in Tang poetry.[18] This account however, being of traditional Taoist thought, has the Queen Mother taking an inferior role to Laozi, calling him "Primordial Lord" (the title of his highest manifestation) and pays homage to the sage.
<China Han Dynasty stone-relief showing 西王母/Queen Mother of the West from Sichuan,China>
<China Wei and Jin Dynasties Mural showing 西王母/Queen Mother of the West>
————————
📸Photography post-production :@小何力
👗Hanfu & 👑Crown:@雁鸿Aimee
💄 Makeup:百丽 (临溪摄影)
👭Model:@清音音音音
🔗 Weibo:https://weibo.com/1648616372/O2R5bpBud
————————
223 notes
·
View notes
where the lost things go
jegulus microfic | 462 words | parenting au
═══════☆═══════
“Piglet?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Eeyore?”
“It has to be Tigger, James.”
Harry has been wailing in Regulus' arms for about an hour now—almost the exact length of time since he dropped his most beloved teddy. James and Regulus had looked everywhere for it, turning every inch of their house inside out, and had come up empty. It’s as if Harry’s Tigger had never existed in the first place.
“They don’t have Tigger, baby,” James says through the phone, barely audible over Harry’s cries. Regulus does his best to calm the baby down, but all of his efforts have proven futile. “I could try another store?”
“No, it’s—just come home, Jamie. We’ll figure something else out.” Exhausted, Regulus hangs up the call and turns his attention back to their son. He hates seeing Harry like this, red-faced and teary-eyed, not knowing how to fix it. He wouldn’t trade this life for the world, but it would be lovely if there was some kind of instruction manual.
Nothing he has tried so far has worked. Harry has no interest in eating or taking a nap or playing with another toy. He barely seems to react to Regulus’ voice. At this point, it feels like a miracle that Regulus hasn’t started crying along with him.
He has one idea left in his desperate attempt to soothe Harry. Settled on the couch with Harry curled against his chest, Regulus begins to sing. It is the same soft lullaby his brother sang to comfort him when they were kids, though Regulus would argue that Sirius is not known for having a particularly calming voice.
It takes him until halfway through the song’s second verse before Harry finally calms down. There are no more wails echoing off the walls, just the faint melody of the lullaby falling from Regulus’ lips. By the time the song ends, Harry’s eyes have fallen shut, and his cries have been replaced with soft snores.
“You’re a miracle worker,” James’ whispered voice muses from the doorway. Regulus turns his attention from their sleeping son to find his husband leaning against the door frame, Harry’s Tigger held tight in his hand.
“You found it?” Regulus asks, careful not to raise his voice any louder than absolutely necessary.
James chuckles, stepping farther into the living room to sit down next to Regulus. “It was at the front door, inside one of your welly boots.”
If it wasn’t for the fact that he was so drained, Regulus would have to bite back a laugh. Instead, he drops his head onto James’ shoulder with an amused huff, and takes Tigger from his hands to lay it on top of the sleeping baby. “Next time, you can stay home while he screams. I think I’ve earned a day off.”
255 notes
·
View notes