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saintobio · 1 month

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sincerely yours. (10)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. depression, intoxication, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships,

notes. important announcement ! as you all know, this series has always had an extensive approach into detailing the events in its side stories (ie. sera x sukuna x naoya, yuuji x megumi, maki x yuuta x miwa, etc), but while writing the chapters, the word count and the plot building had become too exhausting for me to produce consistently, esp with the amount of scenes and side stories i was introducing to the story, so i've decided it's best for me to stick to the main characters, reader & gojo, and will only add side stories as necessary. this really hurts me knowing that i can't achieve the level of comprehensive writing and world building that i did for sincerely not, but i really want to finish sy as soon as possible and removing a chunk of side stories would be some of the things that'd help me achieve that 😭 i hope you guys understand. hopefully i'll figure out a way to write those side stories instead of completely abandoning them mid-way in this series. but as always, thanks for ur continued support <3

series masterlist -> episode eleven

“It’s a little weird.”

What was supposed to be her bed time had turned into a moment of reflection for Sera who, instead of being fast asleep at this time of the night, had unconsciously brought herself inside Sukuna’s home office to join the up-and-coming tech mogul in his late-night programming.

She wore her silk pajamas, pacing back and forth in her boyfriend’s office as her mind flew back to the recent encounter she had with her ex-boyfriend. Who knew that Satoru’s kid would look just like a carbon copy of him? No, actually, the question should be: who knew it would be a different woman by his side acting as the mother of his child? Sera had to laugh at herself, shaking her head as she realized how truly and undeniably ridiculous her ex was. It was clear that day that he wasn’t really as loyal of a partner as he claimed himself to be.

Did he really just go through all those crazy things with you, only to look like a whore-hopping fool now?

If he was bound to end up with someone else other than you, then why did he have to make Sera’s life miserable in the first place?

She may have done terrible things before as a selfish and materialistic lover of his, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Satoru also contributed to her role as the side-piece in his marital relationship. He allowed her to cling to him like a mistress. Being his side-piece wasn’t even something that she had forced upon him. It was his promise, an idea that he planted on Sera’s head, saying that she would need to stay by his side and that he would marry her guaranteed that he had already secured the merger and divorced you. He swore like a fool that he would divorce you. But guess what? The jerk ended up falling in love with his wife and suddenly had no use of Sera. Suddenly, he was such a good husband who couldn’t be more loyal. Suddenly, he was a lovestruck man who had always been in love with his childhood friend. If he had downright dumped Sera the moment his engagement was announced, if he had not been prideful and ambitious since the beginning of his marriage, he probably would have had better luck at having that healthy relationship he yearned from you.

But how come the blame of being the third-party was all on Sera when her only mistake then was loving the person who promised her all the good things in life?

Now, you see, this was all just bitterness brewing at the back of her head. She knew what she did was still wrong and that she wasn’t innocent. Sera swore to herself that she would never look back on those awful days ever again, but seeing how Satoru was running around freely with a different woman just reminded Sera of his days as a spiteful, two-timing man. Somehow, it felt like he had changed and yet didn’t at all.

Ha ha ha. How ridiculous was that?

“What’s funny?” asked Sukuna, her present boyfriend and thankfully so. He was Sera’s blessing, because she never would have thought that a man like him could still exist in a world full of Satoru’s and Naoya’s. “You look cute smiling to yourself, though.”

“I know,” she responded to the compliment, shifting to settle herself on his lap, though his attention remained fixed on his laptop screen. “It's just strange to me,” she continued, her voice thoughtful, “how Gojou appears his usual self, yet there's something off about him.”

The question clouded Sukuna’s eyes in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he tried to comprehend her description. “You mean dude got uglier?”

I wish, Sera thought. “No, he’s… he’s different. The vibes are different. For a second, he even looked like he was dissociating the whole time he was with that girl,” she said, referring to Satoru’s new girl as though she was your cheap alternative, “But then again, why is he with her in the first place if he looks absent-minded the whole time, you know what I mean?”

“Was he like that with you before?”

“At times, but it’s not like the way he’s acting right now… I don’t know, I can’t explain it. The energy is off. That’s just not how he acts when he’s really, really into someone.”

To be honest, Sukuna didn’t give a damn about Satoru Gojou’s life and any normal boyfriend wouldn’t really like hearing their girlfriend talking about another man, especially her ex at that, but he knew Sera found joy in old money gossip and he was aware of the demoralizing past she has had by associating herself with them. Sukuna was acting all engaged in their conversation because he wanted to make her feel heard and that he shared her simple joys in life. Besides, it was through her that he learned so many inside scoops about the people that ran the country’s biggest conglomerates. It was like watching one heck of a messy episode of Dynasty.

“Didn’t he get into a car accident?” he recalled, remembering the headlines on the news that day, “Then, we saw him at the expo and he couldn’t really remember you. The guy’s probably got his head all messed up.”

Sera was bitter at the time thinking that Satoru was toying with her when he asked who she was, when the truth was, he was actually diagnosed with amnesia. It was such a shock to her, truthfully, because having amnesia felt like something you would only see on a movie’s screen. Well, in that case, she could also say karma’s a bitch. The director might be onto something here.

“He’s probably not mentally fine, but still…” she thought carefully and played the scene in her head again. What was it about the Gojou that she saw the other day that was different? “He just has a different vibe to him that it feels uncomfortable. It’s like he’s rude, but not so rude? He doesn’t have much of a personality anymore. Like a complete stranger.”

“Maybe it’s the new girl rubbing off on him.” Sukuna was back to typing on his laptop as he said that. Frankly, he was just saying anything at this point.

Sera shook her head in response. “Well, I don’t know about that girl he’s seeing and I don’t really care, but it’s common knowledge to the filthy rich that she’s Y/N’s best friend. That’s why I recognized her right away, and that’s why it disgusted me,” she pressed on, “Tell me, would you—and be honest about this—would you fuck your best friend’s ex?”

The humor on her boyfriend’s face came right as she asked that. “Babe, you fucked a married man. It’s worse than fucking somebody’s ex.”

“Shut up.” Rolling her eyes, she got up from his lap and sighed, but Sukuna wasted no time in pulling her back onto his lap. His chuckle was mingling with the gentle kiss he had planted on her cheek, unaware that his actions made Sera’s heart flutter. “Forget it. I shouldn’t even be talking about Satoru with you.”

The man stretched his arms and finally closed his laptop, patting Sera’s thigh afterwards. “On that note, I do have another ‘dude from your past’ that I gotta meet tomorrow.”

Her reaction alone was a response for him. “Naoya?” she protested, face contorting with disgust. “What for? I told you not to take on that project.”

“Yeah, I considered it, and you know, the partnership could really benefit CleaveTech,” Sukuna reasoned, leaning back as he outlined the situation to her from a business standpoint. Given her own background working for the Gojou Group before, he expected her to grasp the significance of this partnership and set aside any personal grievances or emotional attachments. “The Zen'in Group is a major client. It’s all pros and no cons here.”

“The contra is the guy you’re gonna work with,” she highlighted with a hint of annoyance rising from her throat, “Naoya is nothing but an opportunistic motherfucker. Mind you, he’s a stupid elitist, too.”

He held back a laugh, not even threatened by a man who had a terrible history with his girlfriend. “Nah, I’ll deal with him. Just trust me on this.”

As much as Sera wanted to object, she knew Sukuna had a point and that she really shouldn’t hinder his company from being partnered with such a large conglomerate. She just didn’t like the thought of her boyfriend being around a man who manipulated and humiliated her to the point where she had been blacklisted by multiple companies, leaving her to resort to being somewhat of a prostitute just to make ends meet.

The world was harsh for the not-so-rich, and all Sera wanted was to give those upper class people a taste of their own medicine. But seeing as her desire for revenge would clash with her boyfriend’s chance at company growth, she had to set aside her personal grudge and support him on this one.

Still, there was nothing wrong with being curious. “Is there any other reason you agreed to this partnership?”

Sukuna smirked as if he expected that question from her. “Blame it on my little brother, he’s been bugging me ‘bout it.”

“Yuuji?” Sera asked, clearly confused.

To which her boyfriend quickly answered, “Yeah. He said it’ll give him an opportunity to work with his best friend. You know that kid, Fushiguro, right?”

Ahh. Toji’s kid aka the heir to the Zen’in business empire. Sera had met Megumi before, and while that other brat Mai used to be unreasonably rude to her, the younger boy was always civil and respectful at least. He never even once treated Sera like dirt when she was spending time with Naoya at their mansion. Perhaps their upbringing really differed because he was raised by Toji and the other Zen’ins were raised by demons.

Nevertheless, with a connection now established between Sukuna and Naoya through Yuuji and Megumi, Sera couldn’t help but feel that her peaceful days as a nouveau riche were about to become far more intriguing. Depending on the cards she would choose to play, they could even turn into a living nightmare.

— —

You weren’t exactly abandoning your company; you were merely taking a break, a necessary pause given your current mental state after the whole break-up with Toji and the Osaka thing. Your mind was just too overwhelmingly occupied to even properly function. Each day, mustering the energy to show up at Hearte's head office became increasingly challenging, especially when faced with individuals who relied on you for major decisions and creative direction.

To make matters worse, Akemi’s sudden resignation hit hard.

You received her decision by a simple letter, a mere piece of paper, without even having the guts and decency to meet with you in person. Was she scared? Or was this her way of rubbing salt on the wound, shoving it in your face that she was now taking things to the next level with your ex-husband?

She did cite in her resignation letter that her reason for resigning from the role was due to conflict of interest. You wanted to laugh when you read that part. No, you wanted to choke in your fit of laughter after reading through her asinine reasons. She could have been upfront and mentioned that the so-called ‘conflict’ was the very man her best friend had previously married.

Obviously, everyone in the office felt sad knowing that a core member of the company left without at least a 30-day notice, but they were all also aware that her resignation was due to personal albeit controversial reasons. Did Akemi not care about her image at all? The same colleagues she had trained, managed, and collaborated with would now likely gossip about her behind her back. She would become a hot topic of disrespect among the people that once heavily respected her. Did she also not care about the company you two created together anymore? This was the same company you two had passionately dreamed of during your late-night conversations on a New York rooftop. She was the one who wanted to build a fashion house together with you.

Yet, it seemed she was willing to throw it all away for a man already entangled in complicated familial dynamics. Her immediate resignation and refusal to speak to you in person just further confirmed it to you that Akemi was willing to forsake your friendship by choosing a man who already had a child with someone else.

Since she chose that path, you couldn’t help but interpret Akemi’s actions as a deliberate slight against your friendship. It seemed clear that she no longer viewed you as a friend and was essentially cutting ties with you. Otherwise, why would she take such a step? Akemi wasn’t the type to be vindictive; she likely believed she was sparing you further pain by severing your connection. However, regardless of her intentions, her actions felt deeply disrespectful and hurtful.

If this was what she wanted, then kudos to her and her unbelievable confidence to choose a man like Satoru Gojou. Besides, it didn’t even take you a week to find another replacement. Your family connections were powerful after all. You readily had a pool of potential candidates for the role of the Head of Sales, Retail, and Merchandising—all from prestigious backgrounds and unparalleled expertise. While the competition was tough, you selected the person you deemed was the most qualified to be your second-in-command. This was someone you had esteemed since college, a person who excelled in both business acumen and creative vision.

Yuki Tsukumo. She was influential in every sense, and you trusted that she would be able to manage the high pressure environment of a start-up fashion house and transform it into an iconic brand, a household name that would one day rival Chanel and Miu Miu.

You may have succeeded in replacing Akemi. You may have shown her that her position in the workforce was easily replaceable, but her role as your friend still left a lingering, repugnant mark that proved far more difficult to erase. This underlying sentiment could explain the unreasonable anger festering in your heart—a visceral reaction born from feelings of backstabbing betrayal.

It was hard enough for you to travel all the way to Osaka with a broken heart, but it became much more agonizing to watch your own son run up to Akemi like she was his mother. It was a goddamn slap to your face, indeed, to see that your ex-husband had already chosen a woman to have his happy, little family with. That he wanted to be a good man and be everything you wished for in a husband for her.

As they say, nothing hurts more than building a man for another woman.

And honestly? You cried so much on the way home that you became numb. Now, you were just trying to get over it. You were trying to bury the searing pain in order to forget the betrayal you felt. It was all too much for a person to handle and it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone through the same old shit before. Wasn’t it worse before with Satoru actually cheating and all? He technically wasn’t crossing any lines here, so it shouldn’t hurt you. It shouldn’t. You had been here before. If you had managed to get through such an awful time as his previous wife, his relationship with Akemi shouldn’t be too hard to accept. No, you weren’t trying to lowball your pain, but it was better to be an optimist in this situation than be a suicidal, self-destructive person. You had a business to run and a child to raise. You had to be strong.

Or at least, that was what you told yourself. That was what you had been telling yourself over and over, each time you got up from bed forcing yourself to have a false positive mindset. In fact, that was also why you had to take this extended break because you had to have your peace of mind. You had to have some form of release to remember why you needed to stay alive and keep yourself going.

Not just for Sachiro’s sake, but also for your own.

Your safe haven for now was at the horse ranch, where the tranquility of riding and the beauty of nature provided the perfect ambiance for reflection. How long has it been since your last visit to Willow? Your father had been joking that you shouldn’t be leaving a beautiful, white Friesian horse unattended for years, especially not for the expensive price he paid her for. True enough, because the moment you saw the mare again, you almost forgot how majestic she was for her breed. Willow was a completely docile and graceful horse, so alike to you in many ways. However, one thing that was unlike you, was that she lived in peace, existing solely for herself and not for anyone else.

If only you could be like her.

As you reached out to stroke your rare-breed horse, a new and unfamiliar stallion in the stable caught your eye. To think of it, your family shared this equestrian estate with the Gojou family. This realization meant that the strikingly elegant and tall gray horse in the adjacent stall belonged to none other than Satoru.

“It’s a Thoroughbred,” the equine caretaker informed while guiding your horse out of the stable, “Mr. Satoru got him recently and named him Six.”

A gray Thoroughbred, renowned as the most expensive horse breeds out there. It could fetch a price as high as $70 million, and of course, Satoru was the perfect owner for such a prestigious horse. The stallion embodied his essence completely—its color, its build, its rarity. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but find his naming convention by number a bit odd. His previous black stallion was named Eight. This time around, it was Six. Couldn’t he be more imaginative?

“He’s beautiful,” you mumbled, nonetheless, in awe with the regality of the horse.

“He’s a good boy, too,” added the enthusiastic horsekeeper in a thick country accent, “Mr. Satoru was here yesterday and played polo while riding him. They were perfectly in sync even if it was his first time riding him.”

Of course, he would play polo. That was one of his favorite recreational sports. The burning question at hand was, who was with him during his visit? Because if the caretaker mentioned Akemi, you would certainly lose it. This was your private space with him. This estate was a place that none of his other women had access to, not even Sera. This was a location filled with memories from your childhood. For him to bring another woman here would be crossing the damn line.

“Did he bring anyone with him?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you dusted off your boots.

The caretaker denied. “No, he was alone. He just came to play polo and check the horses he recently bought.”

Oh… “He bought more than one?”

Did he seriously get Akemi her own horse? Your heart was racing at the thought, but the caretaker led you to the stable near the exit to show you the other horse than your ex-husband had purchased. It was a brown Shetland pony.

“He got a fully trained Shetland for your son,” the horsekeeper proudly declared, showcasing the pony as if he had been instructed to do so in anticipation of your visit. It was obvious that Gojou had already briefed him on introducing Sachiro’s new pony to you because he knew you would be asking about it. “His name is Elmo. He is kid-safe and very friendly.”

Frankly, you wanted to sigh in relief, but at the same time, it warmed your heart to know that Satoru got his son his own horse at such a young age. You could already sense him planning to make Sachiro take equestrian classes when he gets older, and probably join him on his horseback riding sessions, too. You could imagine just how perfect it would be to see the father and son bonding here, racing together, playing polo together… yet it would not be you who would be watching them on the side.

This future he was setting up with his son would be an experience he would share with Akemi.

There was no you in that vision anymore.

The caretaker likely questioned your sanity when he noticed the bitter smile on your face as you mounted your mare. He might have even doubted whether you were sane enough to ride alone, without a guide, particularly through the woods since Willow had not been ridden for some time now. However, you had done it countless times before and were quite familiar with the trail, and so you dismissed his offer to lead you and assured him confidently that you knew your way back.

You needed this solitude. You craved this moment of peace, alone with your thoughts and surrounded by nature, to reflect on the ceaseless torture of your life. It was just never-ending, squeezing every drop of happiness out of your system to make sure that you would only live to suffer. You really thought you had your happy ending with someone else? You actually believed you had found the perfect man to be your actual husband?

Well, unfortunately for you, Toji was not the one.

At first, your mind flew to Toji as you went on to the trail, allowing the mare to continue trotting as you held the reins to control her. You remembered Toji’s text that morning, asking you for the hundredth time if he could meet with you. He likely wanted to apologize in person, but you doubted he would change his mind and take back the things he said. Because they were true. He could never fill the void left by his deceased wife by being with another empty soul. It was painfully, unmistakably true. You were better off dead if that was the case, because even if you did end up marrying him, you would never be regarded as the person he loved the most. After all, your role in this world seemed to always be the second option. You were never the first in other people’s books. Not with your ex-husband. Not even with your family, especially with Gen around. You were meant to be a bystander, watching others live their perfect lives while you were forced to be in your misery. Someone like Toji would not have a guaranteed blissful marriage with you and you had to spare him from that. You had to draw the line and step back from this charade that you were playing with him, knowing that you were never the right person to be with him, so at some point, you had to accept his drunken words. They came from a place of truth, and that truth would set the both of you free.

Even it hurt. Even if it fucking hurt to hear his words. You couldn’t deny them.

You could easily forgive him, but his words might take a while for you to forget because even thinking about it now was bringing a wave of pain into your chest. You didn’t even notice that you were losing control on Willow’s reins by the time you entered further into the woods, bouncing on the saddle as you galloped along the challenging path. With the speed you were riding right now, inexperienced riders would certainly find it unsafe and scary. But for you? It was just what you needed. The breeze of fresh air, the thrill of riding alone, the peaceful sound of nature—you could die there and be at your happiest.

Maybe that was where you had to be; to disappear and leave them all behind. Wouldn’t that be best for everyone? If you were to vanish, they could finally be free. Your presence, even from the beginning, was a burden for everyone—for your dad, Gen, Satoru, Toji, and even Akemi. The people you trusted the most would be the same people who would secretly celebrate your demise. So, what else was hindering you from taking matters into your own hands and ending it all yourself?

“Giddy up!”

Was it Sachiro? Definitely. But now he had his father, and he was likely starting to see Akemi as a mother figure as well. Your role as his beloved mama could be easily replaced if you were to leave him now. It wouldn’t hurt him as much that way. Three years with Sachiro seemed sufficient enough, and he was at an age where he could grow up alongside his father. In this short span, he would have lasting memories with you, yet not enough to deeply grieve your absence. He was a young child, surrounded by people who would offer the whole world to him. At least, for that, you were eternally grateful. It brought you comfort knowing that your son would have support after you were gone, and that he would find a mother figure in Akemi. Given the brief time he spent with you and the rest of his life with her as his stepmother, Sachiro would likely come to love and accept Akemi as his own mother. This was the best outcome you could hope for.

My child, my son, my baby… please don’t get mad at mommy.

Tears were gushing out of your eyes and you hadn’t even realized it until they started blurring your vision. You were far too lost in your own thoughts, unaware that you were now in an unfamiliar and seemingly dangerous part of the trail. The path was getting a little bit too steep and poor Willow was clearly stressed at your inconsiderate handling. There were multiple obstacles on your rocky terrain and you weren’t as steady and controlled as you wanted to be because the horse wasn’t comfortable navigating such a difficult path with the pace you were forcing her to.

“Ah!”

Your attempt to balance was interrupted by Willow’s loud neigh, signaling her distress before she bolted into a full rampage. She was sprinting at an estimated speed of 20 miles per hour. Not even a skilled rider like Satoru himself would be cantering that fast on unfamiliar terrain and an unfit horse. But you, you clearly had a death wish, because instead of fearing for your own life, you were far more concerned at the thought of how dreamy Satoru and Akemi’s wedding would look like after your demise. They would definitely make Sachiro their ringbearer. Suguru would be the best man. Shoko, the maid of honor. People on the internet would praise them for being an attractive couple. They would anticipate their beautiful kids together, living in the same mansion he bought as a gift to you. He would kiss her good night, tell her loves her, and offer the whole world to her. They would exchange vows and promise themselves a lifelong commitment to be by each other’s side through sickness and in health, and only in death would they part.

“Willow!”

You let out a shriek as the reins slipped from your grasp, causing you to tumble off the saddle and crash onto the ground. The impact was first felt in your elbow, and a sharp, searing pain then radiated through your body. There you lay, sprawled on the dirt, helplessly watching Willow galloping out of control up the mountain, and then tragically plummeting off a cliff.

“Nooo! Willow, no!”

Utter hysteria overtook you. You sobbed uncontrollably, unable to determine which pain was more agonizing—the clearly broken elbow, the loss of the horse you had inadvertently led to its death, or the heart-wrenching reality of Satoru starting a family with someone else.

You were pathetic. You were such a pathetic excuse of a human being and this was why you deserve hell.

“Willow!”

Toji couldn’t love you. Your own son didn’t want to be around you. Satoru had gotten over you. And now, you drove a poor innocent horse to its demise because of your recklessness!

You were crying hysterically as you held your pained elbow, crawling by the cliff’s edge as you screamed for your horse’s name, but in the end, there was nothing you could do. You could only apologize to poor Willow for having such an irresponsible owner, and now she was dead because of you. 16 years of her life, she was able to live in peace until you came and ruined it all for her. It should have been you. You were the one who should have jumped off a cliff. You should atone for your sins and follow her, but you were too weak, far to overcome by the excruciating pain on your hip and your broken elbow to move or do anything at all.

That was, until your mind had completely shut down, leaving you as a mere body to be discarded alone in the darkness of the woods. You hoped that no one else would find you soon.

— —

“A-Angina?” Satoru’s eyes went wide. His whole world stopped before him.

“Yes. She was diagnosed with stable angina,” Dr. Mori confirmed, much to your husband’s horror. “But there is another factor that requires her to have more rest. You need to take good care of your wife, Mr. Gojou. Her body needs a lot of nutrients so she can carry safely.”

He could barely process the whole thing in his head because the news kept coming one after another, leaving him in a befuddled state with a flood of unanswered questions running through his mind. “What do you mean…?”

“Your wife is seven weeks pregnant.”

…

“Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

You could barely pry your eyes open, but when you finally managed to, you were met with the concerned expression on Gen’s face. The harsh glare of fluorescent lights and the antiseptic scent confirmed to you that you were in the ER, likely an hour or two after the incident in the woods. The memory of the trail quickly flooded your thoughts, and a pang of sorrow gripped your heart as you recalled Willow's final moments before she fell off the cliff. The poor horse had lost her life, while the one responsible for her tragic death remained alive, save for the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“Why did you ride into the woods alone?” Gen persisted with her barrage of questions, standing by your bed as you attempted to sit up. “Are you suicidal or what? Riding your horse in a dangerous trail like that—”

“You know what, maybe I should have just died back there!” you snapped, wincing from the pain in your elbow. Her choice of words struck a nerve in you. “Maybe I’d prefer that over sitting here, listening to your sanctimonious lecture like you're so perfect yourself! How obnoxious.”

“Then, maybe you shouldn’t be riding so recklessly and causing alarm to everyone else!”

“Did I literally ask you to come save me?!”

The atmosphere around you two just became even more uninviting, with discomfiting silence seeping through as you and Gen were engaged in a sharp glaring contest. Your father stood behind her, clearing his throat to cut the tension.

“That’s enough, Gen.” Your dad placed a hand on her shoulder, and although she wanted to protest, she knew better not to keep stirring the pot after receiving his strict gaze. “Let’s just be thankful your sister is safe. There’s no need to be so overwhelming.”

You rolled your eyes, drawing in a deep breath before you looked away from them. None of them would ever understand your pain unless they were in your position. They didn’t carry the same baggage as you, so they would never fully comprehend the weight of your suffering. You had already dealt with similar pain on your own before and that was why you didn’t need any of them to come to your aid, meddling with your life like they knew exactly what you were going through. “Just leave me alone, you guys. I wanna rest.”

Since when did your relationship with your sister start to get rough? It wasn’t really like this before, but ever since she started to become too overprotective over you and your choices in life, particularly choices linked to Satoru, Gen had started to become insufferable in your eyes. She was acting too much like a mother; controlling your decisions, lecturing you about your personal relationships, being too involved with your private life. There, ever since that, you started to distance yourself from her, and she didn’t like that. Her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to cease acting like this mature, picture perfect big sister to you.

With that said, Gen would have normally gotten annoyed when you asked them to leave you alone, but this time around, she seemed to have reflected on her insensitivity a lot better with your father around. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, her tone still tinged with stubbornness, “I just got worried. I don’t know what’s gotten into you to put yourself in danger like that, but… please, Y/N. If you’re going through something, you can always speak to us. Dad and I, we’re here for you.”

To be fair, if you had to put yourself in their shoes, it really would have been alarming to know that your sister almost died. This wasn’t the first time you were at death’s door either, so they were probably scared shitless when they were informed of your situation. Your absolutely reckless situation. You didn’t mean to cause a scene, neither did you intend to bother them on their already busy schedules. You just had so many things in your mind while you were horseback riding, too engulfed by your own sorrow that you didn’t realize the repercussions after the incident had already taken place.

“I’m sorry, too.” Your voice softened with humility. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. It was just really an accident.”

Of course, Gen suspected it was more than just an accident. Your dad did, too. It was obvious on their forlorn faces that they were worried for your mental and emotional well-being, but none of them dared address the elephant in the room. It seemed they didn’t need to, anyway, since one of the many reasons that contributed to your earlier breakdown took a peek from behind the curtains, clearing his throat and sending you a look of sympathy.

“Y/N?” Toji looked at your father and your sister for approval before stepping further inside your space in the ER. “Can I talk to you?”

There was no escaping Toji’s presence anymore. No more hiding, no more avoiding. You knew you had to have this talk with him no matter how many times you ignored his flood of texts and calls. While this may have struck as an opportune moment for him to speak to you in person, facing the painful truth of your situation weighed heavily on you. Besides, hadn’t the irony presented itself right there? If Satoru were the one trying to speak to you, even if he was the father of your child, Gen would have been quick to lash out at him. Yet with Toji, even with the general knowledge of what had transpired between you two, your sister still showed no hostility towards him, allowing him to approach you freely and without interference.

But then again, Toji was far from being a cheating, manipulative scumbag who not only caused you suffering but also sought to selfishly acquire your family’s company. Therefore, he wasn’t considered a threat.

Alright, then. Since Toji genuinely wasn’t a threat to your current emotional state, you agreed to talk with him. It was the first time you had seen the not-so-confident side of Toji Zen’in. He was typically a man of virtue, often holding his chin high, offering the best advice, and having insightful perspectives on life. However, it seemed you had shattered that confidence in him. You could sense his cautiousness around you as he stood by your side in the ER, assisting you with your needs, and eventually agreeing to your request to walk you to the rooftop garden.

“I don’t really think there’s anything else we should talk about.” It was you who first broke the silence, staring at the cityscape while sitting on a wheelchair. The calm breeze allowed your mind to seize the moment with a peaceful mind. “I already heard what you had to say.”

Toji found it better to kneel down in front of you to meet your eyes as he spoke to you in a sincere and earnest voice. “Y/N, I was drunk when I said all that shit back there. I didn’t mean them. I didn’t mean to hurt you with my callous words, and I feel awful that you had to hear them from me. You trusted me. You sought comfort from me. I wasn’t thinking like a normal person when those things came out of my mouth.”

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t true,” you replied with quiet resignation. It was the acceptance in your face that seemed to have caused Toji’s heartbroken gaze. “It’s okay, Toji. I think, when you said all those things, it actually made me realize some aspects of our relationship that had to be addressed. It made me more self-aware and it opened my eyes on the bigger picture.” You touched his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as you mustered the courage to speak your next words. “It’s for the best that we part ways. It’s not fair to me to become a placeholder for your wife the same way it isn’t fair to you to have to deal with my ex-husband always being present in my life. Our unresolved feelings won’t really be resolved by being together.”

“Y/N…” Toji’s voice hinted at his vulnerable emotions, though he restrained himself from showing it fully. And you didn’t miss the apologetic look he had presented to you. “Despite all that, I hope you know that I’d been true to you. I do love you and will always love you. I’ll always be someone you can rely on, someone you can seek comfort from, someone you can turn to when you need help…”

Damn it. Why did he have to make it sound like an actual break up? Now, it tugged at your heartstrings and hit you in a place it shouldn’t have. You weren’t good at these things and it certainly was your first time dealing with such a mature and mutual separation, but wasn’t that a good thing? No further drama was to happen, leaving a stark comparison to your separation with Satoru. While this one didn’t hurt as much, it still brought a hollow feeling in your chest.

“Same for me,” you agreed, displaying a weak smile. “You’ll always have a spot in my heart, Toji. I’ll always be grateful that I met you.”

Sometimes, two people didn’t need to be together to love each other. Friendships could still thrive between ex-lovers, and that was why closure was so important. It not only closed a certain chapter of your life in a healthy way, but also allowed you to heal and open yourselves to a new beginning without any bitterness left behind.

It shouldn’t be considered bad to remain friends with an ex. It also shouldn’t be bad to give a parting kiss from said ex, right?

You weren’t the one who initiated it, after all. It was Toji’s hand that gently stroked your cheek. It was him, who leaned forward and pressed his lips onto yours. It wasn’t forceful, but neither was it passionate. It was simply a tender kiss of goodbye, feeling the warmth of each other’s lips for one last time before you two would transition from being lovers to friends. What you didn’t understand from this supposedly bittersweet moment was the faint tears that somehow managed to escape your eyes, perhaps because you knew that once Toji left, you would be alone again.

You had no one by your side to love you, cherish you, choose you, and offer their entire world for you. You were meant to live this cruel world all by yourself.

As he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Please learn to love yourself before anyone else, Y/N. It’s what you need and what you deserve.”

That night, while you were getting your MRI, your mind kept flying to the possibilities of a future without having anyone by your side. Any normal person would tell you to focus on loving yourself first, as Toji did recently, focusing on what matters most, and ridding yourself of the toxic things that hinder you from moving forward with your life. Things weren’t as easy as they sounded. Besides, it was different being on the receiving end of the said advice. How could you do those things when the primary cause of your pain was someone whose life would always be linked to yours forever?

Based on the result of your MRI scans, your doctor recommended that you undergo elbow arthroscopy. It was just a minimally invasive procedure compared to open surgeries, but considering how much of an overthinker your dad was when it came to your health, he insisted on your confinement at the hospital until you had been completely cleared of any other issues. He really placed a big deal on your condition and emphasized to the doctors that they make sure nothing was missed. It could have been worse; you could have had a broken hip or a fractured leg, but at least you only had a dislocated elbow. Nothing that couldn’t be easily corrected by surgery and physical therapy.

The decision was for you to stay there for two days, and on your first night, a crying Sachiro ran inside your private room because his ‘mama has a boo boo’. Gen said he was picked up from daycare and dropped off at the hospital because the poor kid was looking for you. She didn’t mention who dropped your son off to you, but you could tell it was Satoru. You could sense it by the glances she exchanged with Ian after you asked how Sachiro came to the hospital.

So, in that case, Satoru must have found out about your little incident and didn’t care enough to see you. Did he not even have an ounce of care anymore? Or was it Gen who stopped him from seeing you?

“Did you ask him to leave?” you confronted Gen in a mellow voice, rubbing Sachiro’s back as he snuggled into you on the hospital bed.

Your sister knew exactly which man you were referring to, and she denied having done such. “No, I didn’t even talk to him. He took Sachi here and left.”

You didn’t know why you looked at Ian to confirm the truth of his wife’s words, but hurt yourself upon seeing his bowed head. It was an apologetic expression that did signify your ex-husband’s blatant act of ignoring you. To hear about your near-death experience and simply leave without even checking on you should be your wake-up call. He didn’t care anymore. No, why should he care? He had Akemi. His only responsibility with you was to be a supportive father to your son.

Why did the pain in your heart feel far more agonizing than the discomfort on your dislocated elbow?

If anything, you wanted to ask for the strongest anesthetic they could offer to numb your pain. You were desperate to have anything even if they had to put you into an eternal sleep. That would have been much easier to deal with than feeling disregarded by a person you supposedly had moved on from. Satoru did nothing wrong here. It was you who had that expectation, only to disappoint yourself when things didn’t happen as you imagined.

And just when you thought things would get better as long as you ignore your torturous thoughts, it didn’t help that being in the hospital kept giving you flashbacks of the time you were in this exact room, hearing Satoru crying helplessly from outside and begging for you not to terminate his child. What comes around certainly goes back around. Or worse.

Such depressive thoughts had you occupied throughout your stay there, and your unusual placidness alarmed the nurses instead of being assured that you were doing well. You heard your doctors telling your father and sister to always keep a close eye on you as the incident may not seem serious, but the trauma would undoubtedly be present somewhere and somehow. Were they aware? Of your intrusive thoughts of wanting to hurt yourself?

The elbow arthroscopy was successful and by the second day, you were free to go home. You were placed on certain medications to help with the swelling and the pain, and while you were walking around the hospital with a listless mind, you happened to pass by the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. What a deja vu it was, remembering the time you had seen Satoru there waiting outside for Sera. Back then, it was one of the climactic events in your life that led to a domino effect on the downfall of your marriage. Not that you were reminiscing, but it did remind you that Shoko was probably there in her consultation room and it would be nice to talk to a friend who had witnessed the wild history of your marriage.

You asked Gen to wait for you in the car while you headed to Ieiri’s consultation room, assuring your visibly worried sister that everything was fine and that you wouldn’t take too long. You had to give Gen some slack, because despite the strains in your relationship as sisters, she was still always there for you. At the end of the day, she was family.

Shoko, on the other hand, was the next closest thing you had for a sister. She welcomed you inside her room in a very worried embrace, telling you that if she had known about the incident, she would have gone straight to your hospital room on your first day, but you told her not to worry about it and understood that being in the medical field already had her schedule tight.

“Well, I guess it’s perfect that you’re here, too.” Shoko smiled warmly, sitting behind her desk. She had exciting news to offer, it seemed. “I just wanna say that… of course, I’ll still be sending you a formal invitation and everything. I actually have a few gifts along with it.”

You shared her enthusiasm. “Hmm… is it what I think it is?”

The wedding. The most eventful day of her life would be arriving soon and you were the first one to hear it.

“Yes!” she answered, with the utmost joy coruscating from her eyes. “I want you to be my maid-of-honor, Y/N. I’d be extremely happy if you could make it. I know you just got into an accident, but it won’t be until two months, so—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You eased her worries by chuckling. “I’m completely fine, of course I’ll be there. I can’t miss it.”

Shoko was grateful to hear your answer, relieved even, because by asking you to be her maid-of-honor, you should already understand who Suguru’s best man would be. That was a touchy subject for you and she was keenly aware of it, but you didn’t want her to worry. You didn’t want your relationship with your ex-husband to have a negative impact on the relationship of all the other people surrounding the both of you. It was already bad enough that Shoko and Suguru almost called off their engagement after they fought over their morals as you and Satoru’s friends, and you were glad that they somehow made things work. They somehow set aside their disagreements and ultimately chose their love over anything else.

Their love was beautiful, and while that wasn’t something you could easily have, it was something you deeply admired.

“Where are you guys planning to hold your wedding?” you asked, steering the conversation away from any mention of your ex-husband. “Here or overseas?”

She delighted you with her answer, sounding as if this was the perfect wedding she had always dreamed of. “It’s an intimate wedding on the lakeside. Suguru chose the location, actually, since he wanted our wedding to have the view of Mount Fuji.”

“That’s perfect,” you said with wide eyes. “Lake Kawaguchiko?”

“Yep. That’s exactly where it’d be.” She smiled with her eyes. “You know this resort… Hoshinoya Fuji? We already booked the place, and we have a luxury cabin for friends and families to stay at.”

You had been there before, but you were too young to remember. All you knew was that it was a high-end resort that had the best panoramic views of Lake Kawaguchiko and Mount Fuji. The hotel owner was also a close friend of the Gojou family, so that was probably why they were able to rent the entire place for the wedding, especially at a peak season for tourists.

Since the fall season was arriving, you could only imagine the stunning views of the autumn foliage there. It offered the perfect weather, too. It wouldn’t be as hot as summer, nor as freezing as winter. Surely, it would be nice to do some nature walks and stargazing, maybe ride a boat or bathe in a hot spring. You looked forward to it, except for the fact that your ex-husband would also be there.

And just what a perfect timing it was, because as Shoko sorted through her patients' medical records above her desk, a file slipped from the pile, revealing the name of your very friend, Akemi.

“Oh,” Shoko murmured apologetically as she retrieved the record, not wanting to ruin the mood of your conversation. “She, uh, came by a few days ago... with Gojou.”

You didn’t need to ask. You didn’t need to hear any further detail. Akemi’s visit likely revolved around her desire to conceive, as she wouldn’t have visited Shoko otherwise. Why? If it were simply to monitor her polycystic ovary, why did she choose Shoko instead of her own gynecologist? Thinking of how your ex-husband and best friend were attempting to start a family together left your heart shattered in unimaginable pieces, stirring up painful memories of your pathetic marriage with Satoru and reopening old wounds you thought had already healed from. Wasn’t it ironic that a couple of years ago, you were crying over the same situation with Sera?

You couldn’t stand this feeling anymore. You thought you had already freed yourself from the pain of loving him, yet here you were suffering from the same heartbreak over and over and over again. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, the ache in your chest too raw to confront just yet.

“It’s funny.” Although you displayed an outward smile, the sadness in your voice reflected your otherwise inward thoughts. You didn’t know why you said that. You were just too… too emotional. Almost like you couldn’t breathe. “He was never this passionate with me. They seem so in love.”

Ieiri’s eyes carried sisterly concern in them. “Y/N, it’s not really what you think.”

Was it? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore. You certainly weren't there to hear it anymore, either. Satoru chose her, just like what you wanted for him to do. Just like what you asked him to do. He had moved on, he had found someone who would love him for who he was, he had chosen the woman he would share the rest of his future with. Call yourself ridiculous for even feeling hurt about it, because you had no right to be and you definitely chose this. Either you own up to it, or you cry about it for the rest of your life.

Both choices had no happy endings.

— —

When Satoru learned about your incident in the woods, he thought he was going to lose his mind.

Was it out of love that he swiftly left the office in the middle of a meeting just to get to where you were?

He still had to pick up Sachiro from daycare, and he felt bad telling his son on the way to the hospital that his mother was hurt. It actually gave Satoru a hard time explaining to the 3-year old that they had to go to the hospital because his mommy was there and that she had an unfortunate encounter while riding a horse.

“Dada, is… is mama okay?” Sachiro pouted with wide, tearful eyes as he clung to his father’s hand. “Sachi wants to go to mama!”

“She’ll be okay, Sachi.” Gojou carried his son and soothed him as they went inside the hospital, searching for you. “Mommy’s strong, remember?”

Was it out of love that he wanted to be the person that brought your son to you when you most needed him?

According to the nurse, your room was on the seventh floor, but when he got there, your room was empty. It was Ian who told him that you went up the rooftop garden to get some fresh air, insisting that if Satoru wanted to go and talk to you, that it was best to leave Sachiro with them.

And so he did. He ran hastily, almost out of breath, until he reached the rooftop, scanning every face within the vicinity until his tired blue eyes finally landed on you.

Satoru laughed in disbelief. He scoffed bitterly, with each breath full of disgust. The tips of his fingers felt cold, while his breathing grew thin and ragged. He could feel his stomach clenching at the humiliation of seeing you engaged in an intimate make-out session with Toji Zen’in.

How sickeningly sweet.

At that point, he was laughing at his own expense, ignoring the elderly lady who looked at him like he was a crazy person. He stood there frozen for a few minutes, watching you kiss another man before it finally woke him up from reality.

It was out of love that he let you go.

You see? This was where his attachment to you would lead him. It was pure and unreasonable selfishness, but he would gain nothing at all from even seeing you. He didn’t need to care for you at all, no. You had Toji. You seemed to be goddamn happy with your life with Toji. And what a romantic fucking moment that was, too.

Satoru couldn’t think straight when he hurriedly left the hospital and got inside his car. He desperately wanted to forget the painful image of you locking lips with somebody else. How? How would he? Fuck! He was mad, mad at himself for choosing to come to your aid like he still had any role in your life. He was disgusted at himself for ignoring Akemi’s calls after promising her a movie date after work. He couldn’t believe he had her waiting all by herself in that cinema, waiting for him to come while he was stupidly running around the hospital to see his ex-wife.

You chose Toji, then you better be happy. Satoru hoped you were happy, and that wish came from a place of genuineness. He genuinely hoped the best for you. Because for him, it was time to fully let go and stop himself from trying to be the superhero whenever you were in danger. You weren’t his wife anymore.

So, was it out of love that he headed straight to Akemi’s apartment that night with a bouquet of red roses?

She didn’t know what happened nor was she given the full detail as to why he unintentionally stood her up on their date night. He had just briefly explained that he had to drop Sachiro off to you at a hospital because you got into a small accident. Akemi, being your friend, got immediately worried upon hearing the situation and asked if Satoru was able to check on you.

He said no. He said Toji was there. He said he left as soon as dropped Sachiro off.

And in an effort to apologize for not paying attention to the current woman in his life, Satoru pulled Akemi in a tight embrace. He held her in her arms, drunk from the sweet and citrusy notes of her perfume, before pulling away to kiss her. He kissed her with the same passion as you did with Toji. Perhaps even more, even better. He completely devoured her lips, with a hand on her cheek and the other on her waist. The taste of her tongue was sweet like strawberries, while her lips were red like cherries.

This woman was all he needed.

But was this love? He didn’t know. It was too soon to tell, too early to answer, too hasty to even consider.

— —

The current situation you were in reminded you of your younger self after your mother had died. It was the same before; you never left the house, often locking yourself in your room, shutting yourself off from the world, and drowning yourself with the pain and loneliness of losing somebody important.

Sure, no one really died for you to be acting this way right now, but the feeling was still the same. Was this really a comeuppance to all of your wrongdoings before? But just how terrible were you of a person to be hit by this unbelievable truckload of sorrow? You might as well spur on the physical pains of your angina again if this torment continued. Otherwise, how else do you avoid it?

You were being a terrible mother, too. You were too engrossed by your own misery that you couldn’t even properly take care of Sachiro. He didn’t deserve to have an incompetent and irresponsible mother like you. He deserves someone better, someone like Akemi, who not only has all the motherly traits a woman should have, but also the physical and mental capacity of being a true, strong woman.

Sachiro was bound to have that, anyway. Now that his father was planning his lifelong journey with another woman, and now that he was trying to build a happy family with her, you were no longer needed in the picture. There was no need for you.

How many more times would you tell that you have accepted it?

Because, god be damned, you knew you couldn’t. You knew you were lying to yourself when you said everything was fine, lying to Satoru when you told him you didn’t need him in your life anymore, lying to Toji for telling him that you wanted to marry him, lying to Akemi that you didn’t care if she was seeing your ex-husband, and lying to Sachiro when you promised to him that you would never leave his side. You were a liar. A terrible liar. A pitiful, terrible liar.

How would you tell the universe that you couldn’t take it anymore? That, for once, you wanted to be showered by happiness and all the good things in life?

Sera was right. Not everyone could have it all. There were people of lesser fortune who weren’t blessed to live a lavish life like you, yet still work hard to achieve what they want. Why couldn't you achieve your own happiness without blaming it on the universe? If this was simply a lesson, then weren’t you the top student at this rate?

God. God, help me. You really didn’t know how to deal with this life anymore. You weren’t sure how to proceed. You couldn’t rely on anything other than the bottle of alcohol on your hand—what was once full was now half empty after you took another swig. This was your second bottle already, wasn’t it? Or third?

You got up from the floor and failed to walk in a straight line as you made your way towards the balcony. Your steps were unsteady, wavering like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. With each attempt to move forward, your body swayed from side to side, struggling to maintain balance. You almost lost grip of the bottle you were holding. No, it did, in fact, slip from your hand and ended up crashing into the floor. Shards of glass lay across the ground, ready to pierce the soles of your feet to mirror the same physical pain your heart was experiencing.

“Stop,” you muttered under your breath, begging for your chest to stop hurting. But it only worsened, and your antidote to that was to wash it down with even more liquor. No matter how expensive it was, you didn’t even like the taste of alcohol. You hated the sting on your throat whenever you drank it. You despised the bitterness it left on your tongue. However, it did great at numbing your emotions.

It just felt wrong in many ways that you were seeing Satoru’s face whenever you closed your eyes. You could see his smile, his loving eyes, his beautiful lips. You missed his embrace, his kiss, his touch. You missed hearing his I love you’s. Him. You missed him. You yearned for him. Three goddamn years, and you were still undeniably in love with him.

“Satoru…” you cried, sitting on the floor. Each breath made it harder and harder for you to catch as tears continued to stream down your face. You were tired of pretending, denying that you no longer had feelings for him when you knew deep down that you would always choose him. “S-Satoru… come back to me, please.”

Was it him coming inside your room? Or was it your vision making a fool out of you?

“Baby, what are you doing?” Satoru’s expression was engulfed in immense worry as he knelt down and reached out to you, touching your cheek and looking at your eyes somberly. “Don’t do this yourself, Y/N.”

Your head hung low, your gaze unfocused and glazed, as you fought to keep your eyes on the path ahead. You had to reach him. You wanted to touch him, hug him. And despite your best efforts, your movements were disjointed and erratic, betraying the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, that’s enough.” Gen had to use force just to be able to snatch the bottle away from you, forcing you to wake up to the reality where Satoru no longer existed to be there for you. It was her who came rushing inside your room in the middle of the night. The bottle of liquor was now spilled all over the floor. The same could be described with your emotions. “Get it together. You haven’t been acting like yourself lately!”

You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were in delirium after having dealt with all the terrible things the world had thrown at you. If you couldn’t drown yourself in alcohol, how else would you have been able to numb the pain? How else would you have been able to… forget?

As much as your sister tried to hide the obvious sympathy in her voice, even your drunken mind could recognize it. “We all know you’re going down the depression lane again, but never to this extent.” Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence, cradling you into her arms as a tear fell down her face. The Gen who would usually lecture you, was now holding you in her arms as her only baby sister. “Stop this, Y/N, please. Don’t ruin your life the second time. I-It’s hurting me. It’s hurting Dad. Do you… do you realize what Sachiro’s gonna think of you when he sees you like this?”

“Gen…” Muffled sobs unwillingly came out of you, leaving you with such excruciating pain in the chest, so much so that it didn’t even feel like you had done surgery to fix your (quite literally) broken heart. “I w-want him back,” you continued to cry, “I want my husband back. I want to be with h-him, Gen.”

“Y/N.”

“Where’s S-Satoru…? D-Did he leave? Please take me to him—”

“Y/N, listen to me.” She gently cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pained eyes. “You’re intoxicated. He was never here, and he’d never come for you. You have to let it go.”

“But—”

“He’s not good for you. He never will be.”

— —

It had been two weeks since Satoru last heard about you. Miwa was the one who updated him that you had already returned to your family’s mansion, letting him know that you were okay and that you were recovering well. Frankly, Satoru was starting to get annoyed at the fact that his secretary was still giving him updates about you. What did he care? He wasn’t your husband anymore.

Besides, Toji was probably visiting you every day, so why did he have to worry about you? If there was anyone he should be worried about, it was Akemi. She had been experiencing terrible pelvic cramps lately, which needed to be given serious attention, but you would never see her being dramatic about it. The only thing she needed was for Gojou to accompany her visits to the OB-GYN, and even then, she never showered herself in self-pity. She carried herself like an independent woman, and that was exactly what Satoru needed in his life right now.

He had a son to raise. He had a company to run. It wasn’t the perfect time to commit himself to someone lawfully. Heck, he didn’t even believe in marriage anymore. He realized that two people could still love each other without getting married. As long as Akemi didn’t pressure him about such things, he was fine with having her around. She didn’t ask for anything much, anyway.

As for you, well…

“What are you planning with that mansion you gifted Y/N?” asked Nanami, seated on the couch inside Satoru’s office, casually reading a newspaper. “Do you even remember that?”

He certainly did. “What about it?” he questioned, idly toying with a pen on his desk. “It’s her property now. She can sell it if she wants.”

Better yet, you should let Sachiro inherit the property someday. His son was already set for a life of privilege having wealthy parents on both sides, but wouldn’t the mansion be a substantial addition to his assets in the future? Satoru couldn’t help but envision the kind of man his son would grow up into. He hoped Sachiro would not inherit his father's immaturity and pettiness but would embody the kindness and altruism of his mother. From a business perspective, however, Satoru planned to groom his son to be a leader, as he was the sole heir to the Gojou Group. Additionally, he would also inherit half of Creston and the entirety of Hearte. No wonder Sachiro was recently listed as the wealthiest kid by Forbes Japan. He even beat Megumi Zen’in from the list even though the teenager was the heir of the Zen’in business empire.

These were the thoughts that should consume Satoru—the future, not the past. His kid, not you. And he was right about doing so, because when he came home to his penthouse, he was told that he had a visitor.

A visitor on a Wednesday afternoon?

Your brother-in-law, the esteemed prosecutor who sent his evil stepmother to jail, appeared on his front door, carrying Sachiro in his arms. It was hard to tell what type of emotions were visible on the man’s face, but he definitely didn’t bring any good news.

“Ian?” Satoru promptly made way for the man to come in, ushering him into the penthouse and allowing him to set Sachiro down. The young boy was quick to dart off to his playroom, leaving the two men in an uncomfortable silence. “What’s going on? Weekends are usually my schedule with Sachi.”

Ian cleared his throat, a hand on his pocket. “Do you mind looking after Sachiro for the time being?”

By saying ‘for the time being’, it seemed like Ian wanted to actually say ‘until further notice.’ But that confused Satoru even more, because what was happening for the man to come here and ask him to let Sachiro stay beyond the agreed schedule with his father? He couldn’t read through Ian’s expression and it was making him uneasy.

“I can, but… why so suddenly?” Gojou asked, glancing at his oblivious son.

“It’s Y/N’s idea, Gen doesn’t know about it.” Ian released an awkward chuckle. “You know how my wife is.”

Gen would absolutely hate it, Satoru was aware for sure. Though the questions lingered in his mind. “Why would Y/N want Sachi to stay with me? Where’s she?”

Was it him or was Ian having a hard time explaining the situation? It felt like he was walking on eggshells, deciding between what had to be said and what shouldn’t. He was careful with his words when he spoke again, “Y/N flew to Monaco this morning and will be back when she’s ready. She says Sachiro should spend all of his time with you while she’s gone.”

Monaco? Why would you be there?

Confusion bathed Satoru’s eyes. “Is it for a fashion event or something?”

“No, she’s just…” Ian struggled heavily. “Well, to sum it up, she has to go there to sort some things out. It’s a personal thing, but she really needs this time for herself and we think it’s the best for her right now. I don’t know how long she’s gonna stay there or when she’ll be back, but I hope you understand what I’m trying to say here.”

No, he didn’t. Satoru found it difficult to fathom his ex-brother-in-law’s words, seeing as he had no general idea of what was truly going on. But if you were flying to Monaco, surely Toji wouldn’t allow you to go there all by yourself?

Ahh. It made sense now. I see what’s happening here.

Satoru’s lips curled into sarcasm. You would be vacationing with the love of your life. Is that what it was? Planning your halted wedding? Choosing wedding gowns? Looking for venues? There was no way you would be flying to Monaco alone, especially without Sachiro around when you two had been inseparable since his birth.

“What kinda mother is she?” Satoru muttered in disgust, unaware that Ian had overheard him. But Ian had heard loud and clear. How could you leave your son behind like this? Couldn’t you face your ex-husband to discuss it, instead of just dropping Sachiro off as if he were some unwanted toy?

“Hold it right there,” Ian interjected, becoming defensive at the accusation. “You have no idea what she’s going through.”

How would he know? No one was telling him shit. No one was giving him details, so did they expect him to understand things and accept them as they were? Did they do the same thing to Satoru when he was at the verge of losing his sanity asking everyone for forgiveness over and over?

“I've never taken sides between you two, Satoru, you know that,” Ian continued, trying to maintain a calm demeanor and speak with clear judgment, “But one thing I’m not gonna let you do is call Y/N a bad mother.”

Satoru’s chest tightened at Ian's words, a mixture of guilt and frustration bubbling up inside him. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but the pain and resentment were too raw to contain. It felt like you were abandoning him and your child, like you were off to a new chapter in your life again, and leaving everything behind. Perhaps this was his trauma from the New York thing crawling back at him, but it definitely reminded him of the day you had abandoned him. For three fucking years. How long would it take you to return now?

Why do you keep doing this? He was sick of it. You kept running away instead of talking to him. He gets it, people change, circumstances change, but couldn’t you at least have the decency to talk to him about it? Was it wrong for him to wish you’d handled this differently? To wish that you’d talked to him, involved him in the decision-making process, instead of just making this unilateral decision and leaving him to pick up the pieces?

Satoru took a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “It’s fine, I’ll take care of Sachi,” he reassured, “I’ll take some time off work and have ‘Kemi help me out.”

He looked back at Ian, his eyes pleading for further details, for answers, for some semblance of clarity in the midst of this emotional turmoil.

Yet none of it was given.

And so, would it still be wrong to assume that he could now completely forget about you? That this opportunity to be with Sachiro would allow him a chance to share it with someone else? If you spent three years of your life playing house in New York with Toji, would it still be unfair for Satoru to do the same with Akemi?

#series: sincerely yours #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo angst #jjk angst

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klemen-tine · 3 months

Text

Glass Bones and Paper Skin

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

More Platonic Bruce x Reader than Batfam, but they are mentioned and will have a bigger role in the future.

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect

Just a reminder for everyone, your bodies are perfect and beautiful! Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Part 2

Part 3

Blinding lights and hundreds of eyes are enough to thwart people from the runway. It makes people stumble, trip, or even run from it. Their mind focuses on if they mess up, the world will see. Their managers, agencies, everyone will forever refer to it when they ask them to walk for them again.

They focus on their walk, the way the clothing either hugs or drapes off their bodies, how the shoes don’t fit, the way their hair is styled, and how the makeup can burn. They try not to focus on how their stomachs ache, how the heels cut into the thin skin on their feet, and that everyone in this room that is dressed and prepped, are equally or more or less beautiful than them.

Y/N L/N seemed to be the topic of conversation at all of these events. A newer runway model who has been eating it up. From their first runway debut to this one, they have always left people in awe and dropping to their knees for more. It is hard to believe that they are only 18. Y/N has been a photoshoot model since 15, but on their birthday when they turned 18, they finally agreed to their agency’s desire to make them take on the runway.

It was the best choice for their career. Y/N’s manager was the daughter of their mother’s manager, back when she was alive and used to do modeling. Her manager threw her own daughter at Y/N, and stated that they were the best people to work with because they know Y/N. Whether Y/N was cursed or not –they have yet to figure that out– has nearly the same exact features as their mother and the same ‘air.’ One that demanded everyone to pay attention to them, and is a natural for posing and had a natural strut.

They’ve been right, and Y/N doesn’t know if it is because of them that they all made it this far. They knew what looked best on Y/N and what wouldn’t work. They knew which designers would adore them and which designers wouldn’t fit.

Those who know Y/N though understand that the ‘air’ was only on the runways and photoshoots. Y/N is actually a very demure person, while not a wallflower, they were someone who could blend in the crowd.

Alfred once told them that every country should be grateful to not have Y/N working against them, because Y/N can just disappear.

“Y/N, are you ready?” They smiled at their fellow models, slipping into the person of Y/N L/N, child of M/N L/N and Bruce Wayne, and nodding, “Of course. When am I not?”

Cheryl whistled, a fellow model that has been Y/N’s mentor in some way, walking around Y/N and smiling, “Designers sure know how to dress you up. I think almost every runway walk has had your hips on display” Y/N chuckled at her, “It’s because of these hips dips. You can probably drink soup out of them.”

“If it was ice cream I’d be down, but not soup.” Jon was another model who has been in the scene for a long time. He was a handsome man with a diamond face.

“Models get ready.” A shuffling of feet and high heels clip clopping sounded in the backstage, and Y/N took their place in front of everyone. They will be the one opening the show today, an honor that the 18-year-old took gratefully.

Opening a show was a big deal, setting the tone for the show in general and also the tempo. Y/N took a deep breath, and at the cue, their mind went blank as they began walking. Their eyes focused on the end camera, and the walk on beat to the music. Once at the end, they looked directly into the camera and struck a pose. Highlighting the slit hips and underboob design, showing off the almost sheer fabric that had the slightest hint of shimmer in them. A statement piece.

Turning around they walked back to where they emerged from, making sure they kept their face in control for the last camera. However, a sight at the corner of their eye momentarily broke them out of their blank space. Five familiar people that should not be here. Sitting in the front row, wearing nice tuxedos, and almost making Y/N stumble.

Almost. Controlling their features, Y/N returned their focus to the camera and disappeared in the entrance they emerged from. Smiling at all the 'congratulations’ ‘you looked great,’ ‘you look beautiful,’ they went back to their manager, Maya, and whispered, “I need you to confirm five people in the front row on the left side. They are four chairs down from the camera.”

Maya nodded, scurrying away and without a doubt checking it out. Y/N could feel the curiosity and dread build in their stomach. If they are who Y/N thinks they are, then the after party is going to be interesting.

“What’s wrong?” Jon wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, bringing Y/N out their thoughts, “Nothing really. Just thought I saw some familiar faces.” Jon made a weird face, but dropped the issue when another model, Logan, strolled on over.

“Did you see them?”

“See who?”

“The Wayne family! They are in the front row!” Y/N closed their eyes in misery and a headache began forming. They saw Maya running back, her face pale and a large frown on her face. Jon glanced at Y/N, taking in the annoyed expression and scrunched nose, “Hmm, no I didn’t. I was too focused on looking at the camera, Logan.” She rolled her eyes, “Oh, it was only a second.”

Jon and Y/N gave each other a dry look, remembering the last time Logan had said that and somehow the camera managed to snap a photo when she was oggling at someone. Y/N shook their head, “I momentarily saw them, but I didn’t think it was them. Do you think I can get the oldest son’s number?”

‘You’re not his type.’ Y/N thought but didn’t say, shrugging and smiling in amusement, “Logan, what would your girlfriend say?” The model stuck her tongue, “She’d ask to join.” Before Logan could say anything else, Cheryl waltzed over, “Stop being inappropriate, there’s a kid present.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, if you can’t drink yet you can’t have this conversation.” Y/N made a face, “That’s the stupidest sense of logic I have ever heard.” Everyone laughed at them, clapping Y/N’s shoulders and helping each other fix their wardrobes. Some stylists came over to fix their makeup and hair just in case. Everyone was getting ready for the last walkthrough, and honestly, Y/N was dreading it.

As the front runner of it all, Y/N’s face will be seen by the now confirmed Wayne family and Y/N isn’t confident in themselves enough to not make a face.

The show will be closing soon and then there is the afterparty that all models are expected to attend. It's a networking place, where other designers, brand ambassadors, and just people who are rich enough to get a ticket can talk to the models and try and recruit them. Its a place and time to mingle for those who have an open schedule and unfortunately, Y/N has an open fucking schedule.

This was their last show in Paris, and then they have one destination and then it will be done. Runway season will be officially over and then it will be smaller gigs and back to the every now and then runway.

“Models get ready!” Y/N took a deep breath and fixed their face, eyes forward and chin up.

‘I’ll call Alfred when I get home.’

+++

‘I want to go home.’ Y/N nursed the drink in the flute, filled with sparkling cider instead of champagne. They stood off to the side, changed out of the clothes they wore on the runway, and instead in a deep-v top and leather pants. Still dressed to impress, but at the moment they just wanted to curl up and go away. Y/N’s hotel room has a bathtub in it and Y/N really wants to just sit down in hot water and relax.

Y/N was constantly scanning the crowd, moving further against the wall whenever they saw black hair and blue eyes.

Maya said one more hour, then it will be acceptable to leave. She was doing all the talking and networking for Y/N, trusting that when it came to meet the designers Y/N will charm them enough to want to have them keep coming back. Sighing once more, Y/N took a longer sip and wished to be home.

Something moved the hair near their ear, and Y/N almost threw their glass at whoever it was until they caught sight of blue eyes and black hair, staring at and analyzing them.

“Tim…”

“Hello, Y/N.” Y/N gave a practiced and polite smile, “Odd to see you here.” Tim shrugged, “Seeing that the designer is friends with Bruce, and told us of your show and that you will be leading the walk, of course we had to come.” Y/N nodded, “In Paris?”

“Where else? You’re next one is in New York right?” Y/N gave a polite chuckle, “Since when did you pay attention to fashion week?” Tim took a sip of champagne, “Since my younger sibling decided to run off and become a model.”

Y/N took a sip of the sparkling cider, not missing the way Tim was eyeing them with interest and curiosity. They smiled against the rim of the flute, “ ‘Run off’ huh. I don’t think those are the words I would use. I never hid it and I didn’t pack my bags in the middle of the night and sneak through a window.” Y/N set the empty flute down, still smiling politely at Tim who was still watching them, “I simply walked out the front door and no one stopped me.”

“Y/N–”

“Y/N! There you are!” A tall woman, hair dyed a shade-off from white gray and wearing the crispest red suit, strolled over. Y/N gave a larger smile, opening their arms and welcoming the hug, “Ms. Gabbana, you look lovely as always.” The woman laughed, “That’s the botox. Anyways, you looked so amazing opening the show!”

Tim was quickly forgotten as Francesca Gabbana, an Italian high-end fashion designer and luxury brand owner, chatted away with Y/N. Her presence called forth other designers and models and soon enough, Y/N was entrapped in a small group talking about the next runway show next week.

They talked about the dreaded flight to New York, and where they will be staying. It will be Francesca’s show next week, along with some other high end designers. Francesca seemed particularly excited for Y/N’s, and when Y/N first saw the design, they had to hold back the shivers.

“Right, Y/N you’re from Gotham aren’t you? Will you be visiting your family?” With the attention all on Y/N, they smiled tightly and shrugged, “We’ll see. They are always so busy so I think it's best if I don-”

“I hope Y/N visits, it’s been a while since we last saw each other.” A large hand clapped Y/N’s shoulder, and from the facial expression everyone was making, Y/N knows who it was. Peeking up through their lashes, Y/N could see Bruce’s smile on his still handsome face.

Cheryl was the first to recover, her eyes narrowing slightly, “How… how do you know each other?” Y/N glanced at Bruce, who right now is Brucie, and before he could say anything Bruce gasped, “Y/N, you haven’t said anything?” The young adult shrugged, “It never came up. Bruce Wayne is my father.”

The room erupted, and Y/N actually wanted to go die in a hole. What proceeded afterwards was the most intense questioning for the next two hours.

++++

“Bruce, why are you here?” Y/N asked over dinner. He tossed the crouton around in his salad, waiting for his father’s response. They have never had a 1 on 1 meal together. It was alway family meals, and even then Y/N rarely showed up for those. There was no need too. They never noticed when Y/N was there or not.

The Billionaire playboy shrugged, “Is it wrong to see my child open a highly sought after show?” Y/N chuckled, “No, but you have never shown any interest in this before.” Y/N never hid his modeling gigs. Often using the family weight room to keep in shape and also turned one of the unused offices into a strut practice room when Y/N lived in the manor. Hours and the amount of money spent to ensure their skin was perfect and their hair was nice, and that they looked beautiful.

Y/N never hid their modeling job, even as a teen, and yet the only one who seemed to notice was Alfred.

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t think I had too.” Y/N can recall trying to show Bruce, Dick, Jason, anyone that would bother to look, a photo of them making it onto Vogue. Not the cover, not yet, but as a newer model within the prestigious magazine. They made it at 16. 16, and only modeling for a year! Francessca had them in a piece that was first page worthy, and it fit Y/N like it was meant for them.

Alfred was the only person to look at the magazine Y/N held open with their trembling hands, and ruffle their hair and congratulate them.

“You didn’t even tell Alfred where you are living.” No, because Y/N doesn’t want Alfred showing up unexpectedly and seeing the almost empty fridge. The thought of the older man’s disappointed look and inquisitive questions would have Y/N breaking down crying.

“Hmmm, I’m always moving around so I didn’t want him showing up when I am not there.” Bruce nodded, taking a bite of his lobster, and watching Y/N take a small bite of the salad. Y/N swallowed with great difficulty, “Bruce-”

“Since when does a child call their parents by their first name?” Y/N sucked their teeth, “The only one who calls you ‘father’ is Damian.”

“You used to.” Y/N shrugged, “You never seemed comfortable with me calling you that.” Bruce rarely answered when Y/N called him ‘dad’ or ‘father,’ and yet he alway responded when someone else called for him. Y/N would watch from afar as Bruce came running to them in need, but when Y/N needed help they had to figure it out on their own.

At some point Y/N stopped calling for Bruce entirely, running and calling only to Alfred.

Y/N is not mad about it. They never were. Dull E/C eyes accepted it and pushed forward, watching the explosive fights, the angry words, and the silent apologies. Alfred’s words affirming that they all loved each other, despite everything saying otherwise. Y/N watched, and continued to watch as they focused on themselves when Y/N began making a name for themself.

They’re not mad. Y/N never was. Hurt? Maybe, but not mad. That is just their hand in life. Besides, it made the modeling career easier. No need to worry about missing any events, Y/N wouldn’t be invited even if they had lived there. Holidays weren’t huge, nor were birthdays. The only one Y/N sent a card to was Alfred.

It made traveling easier. There was no such thing as homesickness. It made taking more gigs easier, more destructive behavior easier to handle.

“Y/N,” Bruce called to him and Y/N paused while eating. Raising an eyebrow in question as Bruce set down his own eating utensils. Ocean blue met E/C, and Y/N tried to place the emotion in those blue eyes.

“For what it is worth, I… I am sorry about the neglect you have faced within our home.” Y/N’s mind stopped functioning and they stared at Bruce in shock. The man either ignoring him or not realizing that Y/N was staring at him continued.

“You… you didn’t deserve that, especially when you were grieving and that fact that I could not see that shows my fail–”

“Wait wait wait!” Y/N held their hands up, cutting off Bruce, “What are you talking about?” Bruce stared at Y/N with questions in his eyes, and blinked in shock when he saw the genuine confusion in his child’s eyes. Y/N looked floored, “Bruce… I-I… what?”

Bruce knows he’s not a good parent. He is intimately aware of his failings and shortcomings, and how some of them haunt him. They claw into his skin, his mind, and chest as a reminder of all the times he has failed his children. He and Dick barely started talking, Jason and him are slowly mending that bridge, and Tim and Damian seem to hate each other and Bruce doesn’t know what to do about that. It seems the only children he hasn’t officially fucked over are those that aren’t even his.

Then there’s Y/N. A child of his genetic makeup, just like Damian, only Y/N’s mother was a model Bruce had treated as a hookup whenever she was on the east coast. Y/N was 13 when they came into Bruce’s care, older than Damian and a few years younger than Tim. Their mother was caught in a drug-use scandal, one that cost her her career and then her life. Her choice left behind a traumatized child, walking in on the body as she decomposed in their bathroom. They had been forced to pack up their bags and move across the country to live with a parent that they only heard about once or twice.

Bruce somewhat knew of Y/N. He knew that Y/N’s mother had been pregnant, but when he asked if she wanted child support, the woman huffed and said ‘no thank you.’ Her income was enough, as a high in demand supermodel, and she didn’t need Bruce’s ‘pity’ money.

So, he never sought after her and she never phoned him.

Until CPS called and told him of the news and the now homeless 13-year-old child he was now in charge of.

Y/N and him never really connected, and Bruce wonders if some of that is his own fault. He was always too busy with Batman, then his drama with Dick, and Jason’s whole dying thing, the persona of Brucie Wayne, then there was Tim, then Jason coming back from the dead thing, then Barbara’s whole Joker incident, then Damian….

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t too busy, he just never made time for Y/N. Which, the other never seemed to complain about. If they did complain to Alfred, the butler never said anything, and neither did their brothers. Y/N was just a ghost living in the manor that showed up for meals because it was expected, and then… left.

Now he sits here, across from his child who doesn’t seem to understand the wrong done to them by not only Bruce, but the rest of the family.

“Where did this come from?” Bruce doesn’t have the heart to tell them that it was because of Alfred that Bruce and the family finally realized what was wrong. The tour of Y/N’s old room, still kept clean due to Alfred’s insistence, but instead of clothes on the ground and signs of life within the room, it had photos of Y/N's past modeling gigs. Hundreds of photos, some framed, some not, as they covered the walls. Magazines that had Y/N on the front cover, magazine pages that had Y/N taking up the entire page.

The tour of the room-turned-practice room. Full of mirrors, and a 4 inch wide ply board used to practice walking. The shoes that were hidden in the closet, some too big and some too small. Blood staining the heel area of most of them as the image of Y/N practicing until and through the blisters filled all their heads.

The meal regime, still written hastily down on the post it notes, and the exercise routine that didn’t match the calorie intake. The broken mirrors in Y/N’s closets and the clothes that now looked like they would be too big on the present-day Y/N that is sitting in front of Bruce.

The written blogs, printed and folded in one of their drawers, relating them back to their mother. Accusing them of the same thing they accused M/N. Highlighting Y/N’s faults, Y/N’s mistakes, Y/N’s features, and Y/N’s heritage.

‘Child of drug-abuser model M/N L/N, Y/N L/N using the same drug?’ A 15-year-old Y/N posed in a way to show their figure was the picture that was used.

‘Child of famous model M/N L/N able to hold up to the heat?’ Another photo of a 16-year-old Y/N looking exhausted as they walked out of a building. Eyes red and bags under their eyes.

‘Beauty genes skipped a generation.’ Y/N is 17 in that photo.

‘Y/N M/N will never be as beautiful as M/N L/N without extensive work.’ Y/N is 15 again in this photo. They had kept every critique, every mean and poorly written article about them, and kept them. Some of them were tweets, printed instagram photos, and magazines.

Bruce could see the drastic changes in Y/N throughout the photos. The strict lifestyle changes affected their appearance and made them look even more like M/N. The Y/N in front of him, still beautiful, but Bruce knows the thoughts behind the perfect skin and perfect hair.

It would seem that one of the things Y/N inherited from Bruce would be the internalizing of every little bad thing to happen, and deny that it has affected them while they wore the scar of it on their sleeves.

“Bruce, you didn’t neglect me. I had food, clothes, a manor… where did you get all of that from?”

“Emotional neglect is still neglect.” Y/N still looked confused, setting their fork down and controlling their expression as they processed that. Okay, so yeah maybe Bruce wasn’t an attentive father, but the man never hit Y/N. He never said anything about Y/N that Y/N would have to go to therapy for. Besides, Bruce’s lack of attention paved the way for Y/N to do this!

Y/N’s lips formed a serene smile, “Bruce, I’m not mad that you didn’t pay attention to me. You were busy with your company, you are legally a dad of five kids, not everyone is going to get the same attention.” They took a sip of the water, hoping the conversation would end there.

“It wasn’t that I was busy, I just never made time Y/N… and for that I am sorry.” Y/N hates this. Absolutely hates this. All of their excuses for Bruce are being shot down by Bruce himself and it was leaving Y/N feeling a little raw. Wounds they didn’t even know about now being rubbed with salt.

Y/N stuck their tongue in their cheek and looked around, before smiling once more, “Bruce, I am literally giving you a way out for your guilt, which I still don’t understand why you’re feeling guilty, so why aren’t you taking it?

“What are you hoping to do?” Bruce stared into E/C eyes and he could see the irritation in them. He set his fork and knife down, and leaned forward, “Is it wrong to try and mend broken bridges?”

“The bridge was never broken in the first place.”

“You’re right, and that’s because there was never a bridge in the first place.” Y/N cocked their head to the side, watching with an intense expression. Those E/C eyes flickering around, taking in the restaurant and narrowing their eyes, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, but did you rent out the entire restaurant?”

“I did. So we can talk freely.”

“The other ‘customers’ are Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian.” Bruce nodded, “Family dinner.” Y/N’s smile held no amusement, “You know, if you were anybody else I would be thinking this is a way for you to slide back in my life in hopes you could get some of my paycheck. But what is a model’s paycheck to Bruce Wayne’s?” Bruce chuckled, “You are making quite a bit. I’m happy you're conscious of your position now.”

Y/N sipped the water, “How do you know how much I’m making?” Bruce only smiled and continued eating. He watched his child contemplate asking the question again, but then decided to drop it.

‘Smart.’ Y/N continued to watch him, no longer touching the food and seeming unwilling to even look at the dessert menu.

“You’ll visit when you’re back in the states, right?” It didn’t feel like a question. In fact, it felt more like a demand poised as a question to keep intentions hidden. Y/N gulped, “I’ll try.”

“You should, Alfred misses you. Besides, Manhattan, New York isn’t too far from Gotham.” It was such an innocent sentence. One spoken with a smile on his lips and kind sky blue eyes. An innocent sentence, except Y/N has never once told them where they live.

“A beautiful place, I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave. With windows like those and that giant skylight, it is truly a wonderful place befitting a top model such as yourself.” Y/N’s mouth went dry, and they could feel the sweat on the back of their neck as they continued to stare at Bruce. Their instincts implore them to go along with this.

Urging them to carry on the conversation as they felt the gazes of four others on their back. They gave a wobbly smile, “Ye-yes. I really love it, I am super lucky that I managed to have enough saved up, and that I make enough to own a beautiful home such as that.” Bruce nodded, “As an apology for all the missed birthdays and Christmases, I decided to help out a bit.”

“...Excuse me?” Bruce ignored them, and instead looked at their plate that was still untouched from when Y/N had put down the utensils. He took a bite, “Do you not like your food? I can get something else made for you.”

“N-no, I’m-I’m just full.” Bruce’s eyes narrowed before making a show of shrugging it off, “If you insist. Do know Alfred will want to feed you when you visit.” Y/N’s smile was becoming hard to maintain, “It was a pleasure to have dinner with you, Bruce, but I have to go. Long flight tomorrow and I need to be ready for next week.” Y/N fished out their credit card, but Bruce stuck his hand out, “Don’t worry about it, dinner has been paid for.”

Y/N didn’t fight, only nodding and smiling pleasantly, “I suppose I will see you next week?” Bruce stood up, and brought Y/N into a tense hug. Feeling the bone and sinewy muscles in his rough hands. Y/N’s top is open back, exposing the shoulder blades and some of Y/N’s spine. Each one a small knob against skin, looking like the Rocky Mountains.

“Safe flight, Y/N. See you at the shows next week.” Y/N gave a tight smile and quickly left. The four other pairs of eyes never left their back, and when finally in the safety of the streets, Y/N pulled out their phone and checked their Mortgage app.

‘Successfully Paid!’ In bright green letters, bolded as if it were a game.

It’s been paid off. Y/N now owed nothing on that house, and while that might have been freeing, it meant someone could now have access to their mortgage account. An alert sounded on their phone, and when Y/N saw that it was their bank account, notifying them of a deposit Y/N felt the breath leave their lungs.

A large sum, one that had Y/N blinking at the amount of 0’s, was just deposited to their checking account. Right under their bill for walking on that runway.

‘Shopping money, for when you visit.’ - Dick

They have access to their bank account. Y/N’s family, because while Bruce was a solitary kind of guy he never was one to withhold information from his former Robins, now had access to their account. They could see what they were spending money on.

They know where Y/N lives. From the sounds of it, Bruce was even in the penthouse. Y/N covered their mouth and tried to stifle a sob, the feeling of an invasion of their privacy weighing heavy in their chest.

++++

Y/N stared at the article of clothing with anxiety. When Francesca had first shown them the clothing, it had only caused slight discomfort. Now, now that Y/N knows that their family is here, and watching, the clothing had felt like it was a metal ball. Francesca stood next to them, admiring Y/N’s hair and makeup, and how it all looked with clothing item.

“I knew this would look great on you. As a Gothamite, this must feel great right? To be wearing the symbol of your City’s greatest vigilante.” Y/N swallowed down the bile, “He’s typically seen as the boogeyman, but yes. I suppose it does feel odd wearing the symbol.”

The piece of clothing was quite scandalous, a bat symbol made out of gold rest across their chest, attached to a black silk fabric and lace. It hugged their body, bringing out the hip dips and long legs, as well as exposing their toned stomach.

“Why didn’t you say anything about you being Bruce Wayne’s kid?” Francesca asked, and Y/N could only shrug, “Just… it just never came up.” Y/N loves that Francesca drops that. There are tons of models who have family issues. Y/N’s are minor.

Not worthy of anything.

“Y/N, for what it is worth, I do think you are a one in a century model. No one has taken to the runway quite like you have. I think if you had started the runway earlier you would already be a supermodel.” Y/N smiled at Francesca’s kind words, and they wondered just how they got so lucky to have befriended her.

“Thank you.”

“Models get ready!” Y/N took to the back of the line, being offered to close the show just after they had opened one. Another prestigious offer that Y/N gratefully took. Sighing heavily, they watched as the line grew shorter and the sound of cameras flashing and grew louder.

Taking a deep breath, they steeled their breathing and controlled their expressions. Blocking out the world in the way they do best, strutting. The intensity of the flashes increased, and Y/N made a show of keeping their face neutral.

Just how Batman does.

They made a point to not look at the people in the front row. When they made it back behind the entry way, there was no time to catch their breath. They were ushered back into line for the final walk out, and Y/N wonders if they can all see how pale Y/N is. Can they see the sweat on their brow or the fact that their E/C eyes are terrified?

“You did great Y/N!”

“Looking beautiful Y/N.”

“C’mon Y/N, after this its a party!”

No, no they can’t see it because they are all focused on what Y/N wants them to be focused on. Y/N has spent countless hours into ensuring they loook beautiful without makeup, and ethereal in it, no one will care about their inner thoughts and turmoils.

Y/N strutted to the music one last time, focusing on the flashing light and hoping that the photos they captured showed exactly what Y/N wants them to see. Once they were in the back, the models stripping and changing into comfortable clothes and all of them getting ready for the afterparty, Y/N stayed seated. The pads of their fingers running against the cold metal that was in the shape of a bat across their chest as their makeup artist and hairstylist undid all of their work.

Francesca smiled, “You were great Y/N, I knew you would be the right person to pull this off.”

“Thank you, what inspired this piece if you don’t mind me asking.” Francesca smiled, “Oh, I got a call actually. It was just a call to run the idea by me, but I loved it so much that I accepted it.” Y/N furrowed their brow, “A call?” They began to strip out of the clothing, but Francesca’s startled look made them pause.

“...What?”

“You’re not going to keep it on?” Y/N gave a confused look, “We don’t keep clothes, Francesca.” The stylist smiled, “Well, no. But Y/N, that was a commission for you.” Y/N stared at Francesca with a new found fear, and their mouth going dry as they processed it all.

“Who… who did you say the call was from?” Francesca beamed, “Your father, who by the way I am offended you didn’t say anything about, Bruce Wayne.” Large hands clapped their shoulder, and Y/N would have shouted if it weren’t for the familiar smell of cologne.

Turning around, they met Bruce’s blue eyes, and the blue eyes of their siblings. All of them dressed to the nines and eyeing the clothes.

“Truly a wonderful piece, Ms. Gabbana. I could not thank you enough.”

“Of course! Thank you for the idea!” Y/N felt their breath quicked when Dick’s hands gripped their wrist, and gently tugged them in his direction, “C’mon Y/N, you’ll be late to dinner. Alfred is making your favorite.”

“At least let them change, Dick.”

“Todd is right, a drive in that would be difficult. Not to mention that it is snowing outside.”

“Y/N, we have some clothes for you. They should be more comfortable then the clothes you came in.” Y/N couldn’t even say anything as they were dragged away, Bruce keeping Francesca busy while their brothers pushed them into a changing room. Dick smiling gently as he passed the bag of Y/N’s clothes, taken from their penthouse, into Y/N’s trembling arms.

“Bruce paid for that outfit, so try not to ruin it, okay? We’ll be waiting out here for you.” Dick booped their nose, and left Y/N alone in the changing room taht only had a curtain for a door. With trembling hands, they searched the bag for their phone. They have to call someone. Cheryl will help them. So would Jon. Maybe even Maya! Y/N just needs to call–

“Y/N, we have your phone out here, so don’t panic.” Y/N bit their lip to stop themself from sobbing. One thing. They just want one thing to go right today.

A knock sounded on the wood that was hoolding the curtain, “Y/N, do you need help?”

“N-no! No, I’m just try-trying to be gentle with the piece.” Bruce hummed, “Well, try and hurry. Alfred is excited to see you and is expecting us for dinner in three hours.” Y/N gulped, carefully stripping and putting on the sweats and hoodie. Clothes that still smell like their laundry detergent and shoes Y/N knows were in their closet.

‘Dear God.’ They whimpered as they slipped on the comfortable pair of shoes, and bagged the shoes from teh show, and carefully picked up the article of clothing. The gold bat symbol shining mockingly at them.

The curtain pulled open, and like a horror photo, the light from behind them casted and eerie shadow. Bruce’s face hidden in teh darkness as he reached his hand out for Y/N, knowing full well his child cannot run.

“C’mon Y/N, time to go home.”

______________________________________________________________

A Part 2 will definitely happen! Kinda has to, to be honest.

#batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam #platonic yandere #batfam #batman x reader #bruce wayne #platonic batman #platonic batfam #yandere imagines #gender neautral reader #batman x gn reader #stalking

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charmandabear · 4 months

Text

Office Hours - Chapter One

Summary:

Your colleague Dr. Ancunin is a smug condescending bastard and you can't stand him. But you also can't get him out of your head.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 5.2k Tags/Warnings: unprotected p in v sex, creampie, no breeding kink, masturbation, vaginal fingering, vampire bites, modern au, college/university au, urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, like the briefest mention of suicide while talking about Hamlet

This would not exist without @zipzoomzaria's gorgeous glasses screenshots because PROFESSOR, PLS. Go follow her bc her edits are out of this world. The masturbation scene is also heavily inspired by @astarionfreak's "Are You Satisfied, Darling?" If you haven't read it what are you doing???

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

There’s something about him that rubs you the wrong way. It could be his arrogance, or the condescending way he peers over his glasses at you and your other colleagues. It might be the overpriced cashmere turtlenecks that hug his figure perfectly or the stupid silver earrings adorning his stupid elf ears. But every time he opens his pretty little mouth you feel a snarl growing deep in your throat.

This is the first university you’ve worked at where the theatre and English departments shared an office. Theatre and music, sure, even theatre and dance. But theatre and English? It feels insulting, honestly. English PhDs are some of the snobbiest people you’ve ever met, and they always speak to you like a child. Is it because they’re unimpressed by your MFA, like it made you less deserving of your position? Who knows. But Astarion Ancunin is no different.

“Grace, would you mind making twelve copies of pages 219-254 when you get a chance?” You hand the administrative assistant the heavy book. “You can leave them in my mailbox, I’ll pick them up later.” Grace opens the book to the instructed page.

“Oh, Much Ado About Nothing! I love that one!” she squeals with delight. “That Beatrice and Benedick,” she sighs, stroking the Complete Works lovingly. You smile at her cordially.

“They’re great, they’re basically the non-problematic version of Kate and Petruchio,” you respond in agreement.

“How tragic that Taming’s writing is better.”

You whirl around to see Ancunin walking in looking at something on his phone. He doesn’t even look up as he inserts himself into your conversation. You glare at his interruption. He looks up at Grace, bypassing you completely.

“Good morning, Grace darling, how are you today?” He sweeps over to her and takes her hand in his, planting a kiss on her knuckles. Gods he’s fucking insufferable. Not to mention unprofessional. Grace, however, blushes and giggles like a schoolgirl.

“I’m doing well, Dr. Ancunin, and yourself?” The tiefling’s voice jumps up about three pitches and her tail starts swishing excitedly.

“Leagues better now that I’ve been blessed with your presence,” he coos at her, voice positively saccharine. It takes every ounce of your patience to keep from rolling your eyes. He casts his gaze to you, and even you need to turn away from those piercing red eyes.

“Good morning, professor. Starting Much Ado with your students, I take it?” he asks with a light smile that makes you bristle.

“Yes, it’s a great way for them to practice switching between verse and prose,” you respond coolly, more than a little defensive.

“Of course, one of his best.” He glances down at the volume still in Grace’s hands and his eyebrows raise, peering over the top of his round glasses. “Going with the Bevington, hmm? Interesting. I’m more of a Norton man, myself.” He runs a slender finger along the binding as you grit your teeth. Is he really patronizing you over your choice of edition of Shakespeare’s Complete Works? Of course, he’s an English scholar.

“The Norton is a great tool dramaturgically, but the Bevington is a much better resource for actors, so, yes.” Your voice is steady but there’s an undeniable venom in it. Can he tell how much he’s bothering you? Probably, he’s almost certainly getting enjoyment out of riling you up. His little smirk would seem to suggest it, at least.

“Well certainly, and who knows acting resources better than our resident classical acting expert?” he intones, voice still dripping with honey. You narrow your eyes at him, unsure if he’s taking another jab at your degree.

“Well, as much as I enjoy standing around and debating the merit of various editions of the Complete Works, I’m about to be late for a meeting. Grace, thank you so much, I’ll be back later to pick up those copies. Dr. Ancunin,” you turn to his smug face and he looks back at you innocently. “A pleasure, as always.” You grab your papers and leave the office, feeling the heat of his gaze boring into the back of your head as you leave.

***

“Yes, Thaniel, come on in, have a seat,” you call out to the freshman loitering in the hallway outside your office. He comes in and drops his overfull backpack next to the teal club chair across from your desk. You close your laptop and smile at him warmly.

“So, Hamlet, that’s ambitious! I think it’s a good choice for you, but it’ll be a lot of work,” you say, glancing at your own copy of the monologue.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” Thaniel says nervously. “I’m fine with the scansion and stuff, that I get, but I still don’t get the actual words. And I know you said how important that is.”

“For sure, I can guarantee all of the bad Shakespeare you’ve seen has been because the actors had no idea what they were saying. Have you used the Lexicon?” Thaniel looks off to the side, embarrassed.

“No, I don’t really get how that works either,” he says, an air of chagrin creeping into his voice.

“No worries, it takes practice. Here, we’ll do a few lines together. So first off, to be or not to be, that’s fairly obvious, right?”

“Yeah, he’s talking about suicide, right?”

“Sure, but what is he actually saying about it? To take arms against a sea of troubles/And by opposing, end them. What’s ‘them’ referring to?”

“The sea of troubles?”

“Right, the aforementioned slings and arrows. So even though you might know what those words mean individually, look them up in the Lexicon to see if they have a different context here. But you’re right, he’s trying to figure out if it’s better to suffer through the shittiness of existence or to take your fate into your own hands and, well, end them.” You highlight the line and lean over your desk to show Thaniel. A voice pipes up from the doorway.

“That’s not exactly what he’s saying, you know.”

The paper crumples in your hand slightly as your fist instinctively tightens. You plaster a strained smile on your face and look up at him.

“Dr. Ancunin, thank you for gracing us with your presence. Care to elaborate?”

He’s leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, face in shadows. Your office is unusually dark because of the storm outside, and so the bright fluorescents in the hallway give him an almost ethereal halo effect

“It’s a common misconception that Hamlet is contemplating suicide here. Life and death, sure, but ‘to take arms’ isn’t metaphorical, it’s literal. He’s contemplating dying as a result of killing Claudius, not taking his own life,” he says, almost sounding bored. You stand abruptly, your office chair skidding backwards.

“How can that possibly be true? He says ‘to take arms against a sea of troubles.’ He’s using the active voice, deciding whether or not to continue his life or end it. To be or not to be. It’s the first line in the monologue. He’s not talking about the consequences of killing Claudius.” You try to keep your voice from shaking. You know that you don't sound nearly as eloquent as him, and it’s pissing you off. He shrugs nonchalantly.

“You’re oversimplifying it, it’s exceedingly more complicated than that. The whole soliloquy is filled with war imagery. He’s at war with himself, the part of him that wants to kill Claudius and the part of him that is afraid to die.” He pushes himself off the door frame and steps back into the hallway. “But apologies, please don’t let me interrupt your instruction.” And like that he was off, leaving you to stew in silence. Thaniel looks up at you and looks back at the doorway where he stood.

“Should I…” he starts, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

“Dr. Ancunin comes at this from a very different angle as an English academic. He’s more interested in the words on the page, rather than how they translate to the stage. But,” you sigh, loathe to give him any credit, “it’s a valid interpretation. We can go down that route, if you want, or we can look at it through this lens.” Thaniel chews his lip while he considers his options.

“I think what you said makes more sense, the suicide bit,” he finally decides. You nod and pull out your copies of the Shakespeare Lexicon.

“Great, let’s go over how to use the Lexicon again,” you say as you flip through the book, looking for the entry for ‘slings.’

***

You drop off your bag and toss your keys into a bowl on the counter. Fucking exhausting day. You unzip your boots and kick them vaguely in the direction of the shoe rack, stretching and curling your toes for relief. You hang up your wet coat and shake rain from your hair. Your eyes dart between the refrigerator, wherein resides a bottle of white wine, and the bathroom door, contemplating how good a hot bath would feel. Both? Both is good.

You pour yourself a generous glass of Riesling and strip your clothes on your way to the bathroom. One of the perks of living alone. Sitting naked on the edge of the tub, you sip your wine as the bath fills.

Fucking Ancunin.

You’re a little shocked at how much he got under your skin today. Normally you don’t think twice about him, excepting the few times you have the misfortune of passing him in the hallway. But today the fates decided to throw you together and your schedules aligned. Well, in your defense, you didn’t seek him out that second time, he was the one who decided to crash your office hours.

You don’t even like Hamlet that much. You certainly don’t care about alternative interpretations of “To be or not to be.” But you’re mostly annoyed because he had a fair point. His read makes Hamlet a more interesting character rather than a cowardly incel romanticizing suicide.

You slide into the bath, hissing slightly as the hot water flows over your chilled skin. Without prompting, Ancunin worms his way back into your thoughts. Hmmph. You take a gulp of wine to try to wash away the taste of the unpleasant image.

Well… not entirely unpleasant. He’s a good looking man, you’d be a fool to deny it. But gods he’s so smug. And interrupting your meeting with Thaniel was wildly inappropriate. Leaning your head against the edge of the tub, you try to focus your thoughts elsewhere. You’re not about to let him interrupt you again, and when he’s not even present, no less.

But there he is, in your mind, crimson eyes looking over the top of those metal frame glasses that you’re, like, 99% sure he doesn’t actually need to see. You take another swig of wine to drown his stupid face. With his stupid cheekbones. And his dumb fucking earrings that you want to bite.

Nine hells, what is happening? You’ve been drinking your wine quickly and aren’t thinking straight. You grab your phone and open Spotify, letting your daily mix play through the bluetooth speaker on the counter.

Now Playing: Hatefuck by The Bravery.

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

By Mystra’s fucking grace, seriously? You growl at the growing heat between your legs. Between putting off dinner and chugging your wine, your head is swimming. You might be better off getting it out of your system.

The wine glass hits the tub edge with a clank as you angrily put it down and sink into the water up to your chin. You are satiating a purely physical need, nothing else.

You still shiver as you slip your hand between your legs, lightly running your finger up your slit. You can see his face, looking down on you through those glasses - those infuriating glasses - and your lips flutter. What does he look like under those sweaters? He’s so thin, but his clothes fit incredibly well. It’s not hard to imagine a sculpted body beneath. You spread your legs further and let the warm water tickle your folds.

His silvery curls would look so good between your legs, slender fingers wrapped around your thighs while he laps you up. At least then he’d shut up. A gentle moan escapes your lips as you run your finger along your inner lips, pretending it’s him. You could grab hold of those perfect locks, yanking on them to control where he can go, fucking his face.

You move your other hand up to your breast and start teasing your nipple, feeling his lips around it. You give it a little tug and groan, just like if he nipped at it.

You imagine sitting on his pretty face, pointed ears flushed and hair a mess. Your hips buck into your hand as they might on top of him and your toes curl. You make gentle circles around your clit, thinking of all the other uses for his silver tongue. You whine and squirm at the sensations of heat radiating through your body. You slip a finger inside and hiss as you can see his pale digits entering you in your mind’s eye. You curl it upwards and gasp, his imaginary eyes looking up at you through those long lashes and a smirk playing across his imaginary lips.

“Are you ready for more of me, darling?” You can hear him murmur into your ear.

“Yes, gods yes,” you reply breathlessly into the cold bathroom air. You slide another finger in and feel that delicious stretch. The ghost of him moans, coming undone at the sight of you. You could leave him speechless, for once.

You reach over the edge of the tub and grab the box of waterproof toys. You frantically sift through your collection of dildos, trying to find the right one. Here. It’s long and svelte like the rest of him, but bright shimmery purple. You suction it to the bottom of the tub and hover above it on your knees. It sways lightly in the water, tip of it teasing your pussy just like you’d love to do to him.

Gods, to see him beg for your cunt. To see him reduced to a babbling mess, pleading to let him inside you. Your breath quickens at the mental image of him pulling on his own hair waiting for you to satisfy him. You sink down onto the dildo and your groan of pleasure mirrors what you’d like to hear from him.

You start sliding yourself on the purple dick, feeling its ridges glide against the walls of your cunt as you continue to finger your clit. You imagine your hand splayed across his chest, your black nails standing in contrast against his pale skin. You claw at the bottom of the tub as you increase your pace, desperate to see the pink raised skin that your nails leave behind. The fingers on your clit speed up as well, and you can feel yourself getting close.

“Oh gods, Astarion, don’t stop,” the words tumble from your mouth unbidden. You will absolutely hate yourself for that later, but right now all that matters is your ecstasy. You bounce atop the dildo, disregarding the water that splashes over the side of the tub as you chase your finish. Your moans increase in pitch and fervor as the various images of him in all sorts of positions flash through your mind. Between your thighs, sitting on his face, riding his dick, even fucking pegging him from behind because why the hell not?

“Astarion!” You cry out his name as you crash over the edge, legs shaking and pussy pulsing. Your orgasm reverberates throughout your whole body as you ride it out. Eventually, your movement slows and the water gently sways around you. You look down at your hand, milky juices swirling in the now tepid tub water.

Shit.

***

The next day at work, you avoid him like the plague. You keep your office door closed, usually an unthinkable act but entirely necessary right now. You double check the hallway before leaving to go teach, and then after class you immediately duck back into your office and close the door again. You even avoid the main office for fear of running into him there.

You can’t look at his face right now. You can’t possibly look him in the eye.

When 5:00 rolls around, you glance out into the hallway. Most of the other professors are leaving. To play it safe, you decide to work until 6 so that you can be sure that he’s gone when you leave. You absentmindedly grade performance responses. After you’ve read one paragraph about Miss Julie maybe a half dozen times, you realize that it’s probably time to go.

You slowly open the door and glance out into the hallway. You can’t tell from this angle if his door is open or not. You grab your bag and coat, take a deep breath, and make a beeline for the stairs. As you approach his office you realize it’s open.

Fuck.

It’s fine. You’ll just walk past it and get to the parking lot and then you won’t need to worry about it. He might not even be in there. Or if he is, he probably has his head down and won’t notice you walk by. It’s fine. You’ve got this.

“Oh, professor, a word?” His voice floats into the hallway right as you’re passing his door. Are you fucking kidding? You turn to see him sitting at his desk, head down, writing something. He doesn’t even look up at you. Prick.

“Yes?” you ask, not budging from your spot in the hall. He glances up at you over his glasses. Those fucking glasses. You want to rip them off his face and throw them out the window.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.” His voice is low and cool. Does he fucking know? There’s no way he can know.

Right?

You tentatively take a step into his office. It’s surprisingly cluttered for a man who always looks so put together, but it’s still warm and inviting. You can barely see the walls for being covered corner to corner in bookshelves full to bursting. He’s got a big mahogany desk in the middle of the room - significantly nicer than the university-issued one. It’s covered in stacks of papers, books, weird little knick knacks; it’s amazing how he’s able to get anything done on it. There are two chairs facing his desk, much like yours, but a rich plush velvet instead of a scratchy cotton weave. He’s got a scent diffuser somewhere, giving the room an aroma like an earthy spiced tea.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the cushy red chairs across from him. You stand there, clutching your bag, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. When he realizes you’re not going to sit, he gets up and crosses over to the door.

“Do you mind if I close this? It’s… a bit embarrassing,” he asks with a crooked smile. You can feel the heat in your cheeks rising. Your mouth goes dry and you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

There’s no way he knows.

Right?

But something compels you to nod, so he closes the door and walks back to his desk, but rather than sitting behind it, he leans back casually on the front of it. He’s taken off the blazer he usually wears and is down to just the turtleneck, sleeves pushed up just below his elbows. He crosses his arms in front of his chest as you stare, waiting.

“I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday.”

You blink at him, the conversation not going in the direction you expected. You had been so focused on yourself, that it took you a moment to realize what he was referring to.

“It was inappropriate to barge in on your meeting with your student. You were mid-instruction, and I needn’t have inserted myself into your conversation.” He leaned back on his hands, stretching out his lean figure to impossible proportions. The grip on your bag slackened and you couldn’t help but drag your gaze over the length of his body. He looks at you quizzically.

“I get the sense that you don’t very much like me,” he muses.

Now it’s his turn to give you the once-over, and you feel practically naked before him the way he looks at you. “Then again,” he adds, and pushes himself off his desk. He slowly advances toward you, though whether like someone approaching a vicious beast or a predator stalking its prey, it’s unclear. You retreat while holding his gaze until your back is flush against the door.

No escape now.

He gets precariously close to you and takes an unsettling whiff. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky growl.

“I think it’s entirely possible you like me… quite a bit.” He’s got at least a half foot on you, and he looks down on you with heavy-lidded eyes. The heat in your face has fully reached the tips of your ears now, and your breath comes out ragged.

“I’m sure I-” you start, but it comes out thick and raspy. You clear your throat and try again. “I’m sure I don't know what you mean,” you finally manage with all of the composure you can muster. He cocks an eyebrow at you, then slowly takes off those infuriating glasses.

“No? Then perhaps I’m mistaken, and your heart rate hasn’t increased by approximately 20 beats per second in the past few minutes.” His eyes continue boring into you. “And maybe that smell between your legs is completely unrelated.”

An undignified splutter comes out of you as you press your thighs closer together. He takes a half step back to let you respond.

“If I am indeed mistaken, then I’ve said my peace and you’re free to go.” The seductive honey is gone from his voice, and in its place is a politely professional tone. You fully feel that he’s giving you an out, that you can both laugh on this as an embarrassing moment and neither will bring it up ever again.

But on the other hand…

“You’re not mistaken,” you choke out in a whisper. The lazy smile is back and he lifts your chin with his index finger.

“What was that? Speak up.” His command weakens your knees and you wither under his gaze.

“You’re not wrong,” you say more boldly, trying to meet his energy. His smile broadens, and for the first time you notice two pointy fangs slip out beneath his upper lip.

Fucking

vampire??

That explains how he could track your heartbeat, and even more his ridiculously keen sense of smell. Doesn’t make it any less humiliating.

“No, I don’t suppose I am,” he snarls and suddenly he’s kissing you roughly, hands twisting in your hair and one knee sliding up between your legs. He pushes you against the door and lifts you off your feet slightly. You’re desperate just to keep up as he devours you, hands weakly grasping at his hips, shoulders, neck. But he’s fully in control of the kiss, and after a moment you let him take you.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away, and you’re both breathing heavily, air cycling between your lungs. Your head feels full of a thick fog and you can’t fully see straight. His hands are still in your hair, tight but not pulling - yet. You get the sense that might not last long.

He drops to his knees and you nearly double over from the sudden lack of support. He runs his nose and lips across the hem of your black denim skirt, inhaling again. Your fingers lace into his hair, but not even remotely in the dominant way from your fantasy. At this point you’re just trying not to collapse.

He looks up at you, flashing another fang-bearing grin. His hand slips up your skirt and his thumb runs across your pussy, barricaded by your sheer tights and panties.

“Darling, you’re positively soaked,” he hums contentedly. “You’d have a hard time hiding this from anyone.” You bite your lower lip, trying to keep the needy whines at bay. But when he fiercely rips the crotch of your tights and presses the flat of his tongue against the drenched gusset, you can’t stop the cry from escaping your throat. He sucks lasciviously, the debauched slurping noise ringing in your ears. Your knees buckle and he grabs hold of your hips, hiking your skirt up to your waist to get better access to your dripping cunt.

He stands and kisses you again, the taste of you lingering on

his lips. He grabs your ass and digs his fingers into your flesh, spreading them until you gasp into his kiss. In one fluid motion he sweeps up your legs and wraps them around his waist, carrying you over to that incredible mahogany desk.

He plops you down on the hardwood and you hear books and papers tumbling onto the floor behind you. He presses his bulge into your mound, this time the sound of both of your moans mingling pleasingly. He tears at your chiffon button down, trailing hungry kisses down your chest as you throw your head back in pleasure. He makes quick work of fully removing your top, though you’re certain he sacrificed some buttons in the process. You hardly care as you paw wantonly at the back of his neck, desperate for him to get his lips onto every single inch of you. He pulls the lace cup of your bra down with his teeth and starts sucking on your nipple, pressing his hand into the small of your back. You arch into him, his hands working you like a soft clay.

So much for the pleading mess that you pictured last night. Instead, you’re the one who's been reduced to shambles, begging for satisfaction.

“Puh-please,” you stutter, and those devilish eyes lock onto yours again. He snakes his way back up your chest and bites your lower lip.

“Puh-please what?” he mocks your stammering, but makes up for it when he rolls his hips forward, dragging that delicious hardness against you. You squirm, trying to pull him closer but he’s got your arms locked in his grip. His lips leave yours and ghost over the flesh of your neck. He very gently scrapes his fangs across your jugular, eliciting a ghoulish moan from you in return. By all the gods, you hadn’t even considered that as a part of it. His movement made it clear that he won’t bite unless you want him to.

But holy hells do you want him to.

“Gods Astarion,” you gasp, and you swear you can feel his cock twitch at the sound of his own name. “Fuck me then bite me, or the other way around I don’t care, but please get in me!” The string of words almost sounds foreign to your own ears, but you’re well beyond the point of trying to sound clever. In an instant, he’s undone his belt buckle and his erection springs forth, bouncing and already dripping precum. He roughly shoves your panties to the side and sinks his cock and teeth into you simultaneously, drawing out your cry of both pain and pleasure. You wrap your legs and arms around him, trying to pull him in deeper. You can feel his mouth filling up with your hot blood just as your cunt fills up with his dick.

You’re panting as you grow more lightheaded, clinging to his neck. Unthinkingly, your fingers stroke his ears, playing with those tiny silver hoops. He lurches and pulls away from your neck, looking absolutely feral with your blood dripping down his chin, which only sets you off more. You angle your hips toward him, trying to get him to start thrusting into you. He pushes your back down onto the desk and hooks his elbows beneath your knee high boots. Then he starts pounding into you properly, and you feel like you’re close to losing it. You grab onto the edge of the desk as he revs up his pace, his cock stretching you out as he keeps your legs close to your ears. You can feel the heat mounting in your core and you know it won’t be long before you come. But at this point you’re just trying to hold on for dear life.

“Fuck, gods, Astarion, I’m-” You finish before your sentence does. He doesn’t relent as the orgasm wracks your body, if anything, he fucks you harder. Just as you’ve barely come down off your climax, he pulls out and yanks you off the desk, spins you around and pushes your face down into the smooth mahogany, warmed from where you had just been. He enters you again, this time from behind, and already you’re working your way up to a second one. Your bare tits squish against the polished surface and he grabs your hair, pulling your head up and arching your back into him.

For the first time you notice the mirror on the opposite wall across from his desk. But rather than both of you, you only see yourself, disheveled and well-fucked, lips swollen from his abuse. Your hair is pulled up by an invisible force behind you. Another unexpected aspect of vampire fucking.

You desperately wish you could see his face because you can feel his thrusts getting more uneven and erratic. You try to turn to get a glimpse of him, but his grip on your hair remains tight. But even if you can’t see him, you can hear him, his grunts and the low string of incoherent swears pouring out of his mouth. The sound of him getting lost in you is enough, and your own moans start building and mixing with his, an utter symphony of epicurism.

His hips give a few more broken thrusts and you can feel his climax, setting off yours. The throbs of his cock match those wracking your cunt, and you hold onto the edge of the desk as the waves wash over you. Once they’ve come to an end he pulls out, and you can feel his semen dripping out of the sudden emptiness and running down your leg. You quietly say a thankful prayer for your IUD.

You’re both panting as he collapses onto your back, planting a half-hearted kiss on your spine. You weakly push yourself up off the desk and see the devastation of papers, smears and fluids. You turn yourself around and relish in his appearance. Your blood is splattered on his fine cream sweater, his usually perfectly coiffed curls damp and sticking to his forehead. You reach up and wipe the remainder of your blood off his chin. He smirks and kisses you, significantly more gently this time.

“That was good,” you murmur through steadying breaths, “but next time, keep the fucking glasses on.”

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #baldurs gate smut #fanfiction #smut #professor astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #office hours

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absolutebl · 4 months

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Best 23 of BL 2023 - Quirky Awards

SHOCK & AWE AWARDS

1. Biggest BL surprise of 2023:

The last 3 months of 2023 in general got my biggest WTF award.

GMMTV fielding OffGun AND TayNew in the same quarter while also airing Last Twilight (arguably one of their best BLs ever)

That they ALSO optioned 3 JBLs

That there's a high heat omegaverse BL staring Pavel

That there were 20 BLs airing and none of them Korean.

With 5 VAMPIRE BLs announced for next year

But my prize in this category goes to My Dear Gangster Oppa.

It's just crazy:

Thai talent, Korean money + IP (this is adapted from a manwha) airing on a Chinese channel (iQIYI). Plus it was GOOD and made smart reuse of a pair who richly deserved it. I'm delighted by the eclectic insanity of this production. And wonder if any other film genre could even do anything like this.

2. The “that country did WHAT?” award:

The 8th Sense from Korea?!

I mean, seriously?! Dealing with metal health, suicide, darkness, therapy, age gap, & first time love BUT FROM KOREA? And then openness and casual boyfriend physical affection? What's next? An actual hard fought coming out narrative with an HEA? Gay domesticity and families?

Careful Korea, you'll strain something. Possibly your own culture and film industry.

I should stop having expectations of Korea, they keep surprising me.

Runners up: Korea letting OnlyOneOf do Bump Up Business not to mention that OmegaX thing. AND Korea adapting Why R U? What are you up to, Korea? Qua? Is this a coded message? Should we send help? Do you need snacks?

3. Biggest casting whoa! where did you come from? award:

GeminiFourth in My School President.

Seriously? Babies what? How did GMMTV find you? How do you exist? How is BL this lucky?

4. That studio did WHAT now? award:

GMMTV putting EarthMix into Moonlight Chicken.

And then doubling down with G4 as the damn sides.

Fucking genius.

5. I’m sad you were ignored award:

Destiny Seeker.

It's just a really fun little Thai pulp, the pairs were good, silly dialogue, plus consent and other good rep. I enjoyed it. No one talked about it AT ALL.

6. 2023 BL That Actually Made Me Lose My Mind Award?

Laws of Attraction. -The casting, the crazy story, the soapy drama! But specifically: Film playing Charn - the range of his smiles alone. GLORIOUS

I mean I Feel You Linger in the Air also sparked something in me, but LoA drove me actually nuts.

NARRATIVE AWARDS

7. Best story 2023:

La Pluie

I know, you're surprised, right? At the time I didn't chat much about it but I really enjoyed the discourse others were having. I love anything that really examines the fated mates (soulmates) trope and the idea of "the one". What a clever way to do that. (This is one reason UWMA is my favorite Thai BL.)

This one reminded me of the way Color Rush approached allegory and that's no bad thing. Such an impressive little piece.

8. Best narrative structure 2023 award:

Unintentional Love Story.

I know this may seem a simplistic pick. But I love the tidiness of this no frills contemporary romance, how the culture of work and personal ethics and corruption fight against the main character's affection and integrity. Poor baby boy is driven into a corner and then punished for it. But it is punishment he feels he deserves, and so it is up to his (now) ex to figure out what went wrong and why.

It's just great. I love it when no one is stupid or wrong, it's just impossible circumstances and unintentional love deeply felt.

9. Best 2023 dialogue (script) award:

Jun & Jun

Never before has Korea laced a BL with that much perfectly executed innuendo. It was a master class. I didn't know you could be that lascivious in Korean, quite frankly. Plus the way the 2 Juns constantly seamlessly transition between formal register (work, public - where they are boss/employee) to informal register (when they are alone and age mates + childhood sweethearts).

Beautiful to hear and watch.

10. Favorite scene 2023:

The dub con scene in I Cannot Reach You because I AM TRASH for an out of control seme. I'm sorry I just AM.

I have said it before, I will say it again, NO ONE DOES THIRST like Japan. And when that thirst bubbles over, it is heart-clenching and very hot.

11. The most rewatchable BL of 2023 award:

Our Dating Sim

That scene where they lie on the floor + the stolen kiss + giggle? Come on, it should be on comfort repeat in war rooms. It could bring world peace.

ACTORS & CHARACTERS AWARDS

12. Best performance of a queer actor in a leading role, 2023:

Fluke in Make a Wish.

It was fun to see him as an irreverent immortal and while I love OhmFluke I also really enjoyed this new pairing. It was a genuine pleasure to watch.

13. Best pining 2023:

The moot pining in Tokyo in April is...

Boys, seriously? Japan must you destroy us like this? Hurts so good.

14. Best wingman 2023 (The Namgoong Award)

Tiw from My School President

I mean, come on, of course it's him!

(Also can you believe Mark went on from this to do fricking Only Friends!? To Last Twilight! Come on GMMTV GIVE HIM A LEAD!)

15. Biggest OMG I LOVE you boys together, YAY!

Dimpled McMafia & Feral Bunny Foo Foo from Kiseki Dear to Me.

They were feral for each other.

We were feral for them

It was a whole delightful THING.

16. Most unexpected return of a BL pair? award:

The Private Lessons pair showing up in Love Class 2.

I know it was only a cameo, but SERIOUSLY? Thank you SO MUCH Korea! A big studio picking up a Strongberry pairing? I love you.

Seriously tho between them, Taiwan & Korea tried for ALL THE CAMEOS this year.

17. Well aren't you two just the prettiest? award:

NetJames in Bed Friend.

Need I say more?

18. LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARD

Bah Vinh in Vian & Mr Cinderella 2. I did like either show but I loved him in them. Especially the make outs.

Yes you have chemistry with all the boys in Vietnam and you kiss beautifully. But it's okay now honey, you have the crown. Relax, you're stressing us out.

RANDOM PICKS

19. Favorite Linguistic Moment of 2023:

Our Dating Sim

Caught in the act by the elevator scene. OMG it's so funny. They're being such boyfriend shits to each other, and to be caught in the act by THAT character, and try to manifest formal language whole cloth? Hilarious.

Honorable mention to War Peanuts in Destiny Seeker.

20. Biggest disappointment of 2023:

You Are Mine

Seriously Taiwan, AGAIN you disappoint me with an Office BL? You're Taiwan, land of offices and suits. This should be YOUR SETTING TO WIN. And yet... argh. I mean it wasn't bad. But it wasn't good either. Stop it Taiwan, do better.

Runners up? Between Us, Chains of Heart, Dangerous Romance - this was a HOTLY contested category.

+ 2 Winners in the sub-category of FUCK YOU FOR THAT ENDING award:

The Director who Buys Me Dinner - I mean this nicely but: you have your lane now Korea, stop hurting us, that's Japan's responsibility and they do it better.

I Feel You Linger In the Air - I'm just hugely disappointed. Thailand ALMOST got its second 10/10 from me, but that damn ending.

Argh.

21. Best Wardrobe/Prop Use 2023

The shower of packaged bedsheets in My Personal Weatherman

Amazing. Brilliant. No notes.

22. Best Queer Rep 2023

Chot in Step By Step

In fact, all the queer characters in this show were treated with great integrity.

AND props to this cast for refusing to do fan service. GOOD FOR YOU! Fuck those sasang wankers.

Runners up? The found family cast of Love in Translation and the Rainbow Rice Cakes in The New Employee.

23. Best Meta Trope call out

Tin Tem Jai

Come on, what a zinger, but at themselves (and Taiwan)

Final question: which of the 23 was the hardest for me to pick?

Honestly? Question #1 this year. But also question #20.

(Last year: 2022's Version)

Remember I only pull from shows that were completely finished by the end of 2023. Or The Sign probably would have taken multiple categories. But it will fall into 2024 offerings.

(source)

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lightbluetown · 6 months

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i saw some people say ed and zheng are master strategists while stede is just some guy with ridiculous luck, but i think that's unfair. sure stede's ideas are insane, but they fit the looney tunes ass universe of ofmd perfectly. they're mostly well-thought-out, well-executed and they showcase stede's strengths and growth! so allow me to talk about them:

1- ghost of the forest - 1x02

a fuckery™ before stede even knows what a fuckery™ is! this is amateurish and stupid in every way. he's not even threatening izzy with a real dagger-- that's a letter opener. does izzy actually believe that stede has a huge crew hiding behind the bushes? doubt it! but this weird little act is enough to establish stede as a (ridiculous) pirate figure to the legendary izzy hands and to accomplish his goal of taking a hostage back

2- lighthouse - 1x04

imagine coming up with the exact same idea at the exact same time as the most brilliant tactician of the seven seas! we don't know who came up with which parts of the plan (honestly it was probably mostly ed) but this is still bloody impressive

3- stark revelations - 1x05

stede's first big success! he uses his knowledge of the aristocratic world to get a shipful of rich assholes to destroy each other, but he's also showcasing what sets him apart from them: this plan only comes to fruition because stede talks to frenchie, olu and abshir as equals. as people he can learn from, as sources of inspiration

4- duel with izzy - 1x06

this one was absolutely unhinged, but its success was far from dumb luck. only stede could think of using a brazillian cherry wood mast and ed's weird stabbing lesson to win a duel, and that's what makes this plan so undeniably stede and brilliant

5- faking his death - 1x10

i love that he just had to "die" in the most dramatic way possible. a heroic fight (tiger), a realistic accident (carriage) and the most cartoony death in the book (piano)... not only is his triple-death able to convince everyone in barbados that he's dead for good, it also allows him to have closure with his family. it's filled with stede's ridiculous unique flair, but it's designed to be a fuckery™ through and through. ed would be SO proud

6- stealing jackie's indigo dye - 2x01

quick little stealth mission. did ricky manipulate stede into trying this out? sure. did ricky also ruin it? absolutely. but it was working until then! the swede isn't part of stede's crew at this point, but his respect for stede is what gets him to cooperate and risk his relationship with his beautiful wife. also, it's thanks to his love for fine things that stede immediately recognizes the value of "blue dirt"

7- prison break - 2x03

in my eyes no scene depicts stede's growth better than this one. knocking zheng's entire crew out with tea is the most stede thing out there, and this plan uses the cherry wood mast as well! this plan relies on stede's (unrealistic) tea knowledge, overly-fancy ship and ability to coordinate his crew. what makes it breathtaking is that he secretly sets this plan into motion while actively mourning the "death" of the love of his life. he's putting his life on the line to rescue ed's "killers" because he's emotionally mature enough to look at things from their perspective and forgive them

8- inciting a mutiny - 2x06

yet another brilliant plan that could only be executed by stede. this entire episode revolves around his idea of "turning poison into positivity" and here he, well, fights poison with positivity. stede captains his pirates with respect and care (best he can) which just so happens to be the opposite of ned. he exploits this and gently gets ned's crew to turn on him. he singlehandedly saves himself and his entire crew from a notorious pirate! oh he also literally invents walking the plank right after this

9- "it's only suicide if we die" - 2x08

okay, yes, this one didn't go that well (sorry iz). but it's not like ed, zheng or anyone else had any other ideas! stede's weird suicide mission, for the most part, worked. they needed to get through british soldiers to reach their ship and they did exactly that. if only they'd remembered to check if ricky had his gun... oh well, you live and you learn

sure, ed and zheng are legends and stede is a silly newbie with wild luck. but he's also quick-witted, creative, confident and brave! he's a damn good captain and he deserves to be recognized as a good strategist!

#ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #ofmd meta #i love my boy so much i will not let anyone disrespect him thank u #🏴‍☠️

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fuckyeahisawthat · 8 months

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on switching places

So I’m sure you have noticed that during the whole end of episode 6 there is this beautiful bright light coming in the bookshop windows. From the east. Because it’s morning.

(Even if we didn’t know what time of day it was, we know what direction the light is coming from, because these windows are right above Aziraphale’s desk, which faces east.)

And after Crowley leaves the bookshop, he goes across the street, and Aziraphale keeps glancing toward the door and window, looking over at Crowley, hoping he’ll come back. (He always comes back.) The blocking in the scene with the Metatron, the one where Aziraphale almost decides to stay, is set up so that he’s looking the wrong way, toward the windows on his right instead of to his left, where Crowley should be. (And, when he seems closest to saying no, he steps back, right to the edge of that beam of light that almost seems like it’s from Crowley.) And we know that their blocking stays reversed (Crowley screen left, Aziraphale screen right) for the rest of the episode.

But also, Aziraphale is looking east. To what is normally his position, as guardian of the eastern gate.

Which got me thinking. What if they have switched places? Not literally in a bodyswap sense, but metaphorically in terms of their relationship to humanity.

They’re the serpent and the sword, right? Those Biblical symbols are already subverted in the story of Good Omens. The sword is something given to humans for their protection, not something meant to be used against them, to keep them out of paradise. (And in the world of Good Omens, leaving Eden looks a whole lot like escaping.) And the apple is framed as a positive symbol too. It’s knowledge, questions asked and answered, the ability to make your own choices. It’s freedom.

So what if they’ve switched roles, and by the end of season 2 Crowley has taken up Aziraphale’s position as the protector of humanity (as we saw him do with individual humans many times this season). We all know Crowley won’t actually be able to abandon humanity and the Earth when the chips are down. I think it’s highly likely that some part of season 3 will feature Crowley on the side of humanity against Heaven, probably in what he considers at that point to be a suicide mission, but he can’t just walk away.

And then what if, in season 3, we see Aziraphale take up whatever the equivalent of Crowley’s position would be in that plotline, as the character who grants freedom and choice to humanity in some way. (By freeing Earth from Heaven and Hell’s power? By figuring out how to give humans the choice to interact with angels and demons only if they want to? I don’t know exactly how this would play out, but it’s a fascinating idea to poke at.)

Of course I think they will ultimately end up working together and whatever happens will require their combined power, but I think it would be amazing if we saw this kind of role reversal. And it would fit with their character arcs: Crowley being the one who is ready to stand and fight even when it looks hopeless, and Aziraphale being the one who gives humanity the power to question, challenge and disobey Heaven.

Protection and freedom—those are their gifts to humanity. (The Bible might call it temptation, but there never was an apple that wasn’t worth the trouble you got into for eating it.) And it turns out that those are the exact same things Aziraphale and Crowley need for themselves. You can’t have one without the other. “Protection” without freedom is just control, and freedom without the ability to defend itself gets crushed by the forces that don’t want it to exist. And so their fates are tied to humanity, as they were from the beginning. And maybe humanity will be able to give them the same gifts in return.

#good omens #good omens s2 #aziraphale #crowley #the serpent and the sword #the bible is a revisionist history of the events of good omens #yeah time to bring that tag back around

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tainsan · 6 months

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misfits XII

⇥ pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

⇥ warnings: kiss scene :O, mentions of suicide, swearing, anxiety

⇥ word count: 14.1k

⇥ a/n: i'm sorry for my poor updating schedule, ive been going through some things at home and also a major burnt out. i hope you can understand and thank you to all those who are still excited for the new chapters :)

⇢ masterlist ⇠

previous chapter ⇠ ⇢ next chapter

--- THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

Just as you finish hanging up the final clothing piece into your closet, you take a moment to truly appreciate the full cupboard, never having seen your closet this full before. At that moment you realise you still need to buy undergarments, forgetting it completely at the shopping mall. Perhaps you can go with Jisung, then you also have a chance to talk to him and tell him how everything went. All of a sudden a soft aroma of garlic and herbs wafts through the air, filling up your room with a comforting embrace.

Yunho, his sleeves rolled up, moves gracefully around the kitchen, the familiar dance of cooking a symphony he knew by heart. Pots clinked, knives whispered against cutting boards, and the sizzle of food met the occasional hum of a tune he hummed to himself. Today, however, was different. Today, the melody of his culinary creations carried a silent promise, a melody meant only for you.

Meanwhile, in your room, you find yourself lost in thought, your mind wandering about how on earth you are going to break the news to Jisung, without him breaking the sound barrier with his scream. Yet, the delicious smell of food snaps you out of your deep thoughts.

The minutes tick by and you find yourself becoming increasingly curious of what is being made in the kitchen. The tantalising aroma was difficult to ignore, its invisible tendrils weaving a spell that beckons you towards the kitchen.

Taking a deep breath, you finally venture out of your room, your gaze immediately drawn to the source of the mouth watering scent. There Yunho is focused and intent, his fingers moving with a practised ease as he deftly tosses the food in a pan.

Your steps carry a hint of caution, yet your curiosity prevails. You find yourself standing at the threshold of the kitchen, positioned right at the juncture of the three rooms that belong to you, Seonghwa, and Yunho. There, you observe Yunho with a sense of reverence, quietly taking in his presence and actions. Just then he looks up, and the surprise that paints his features is quickly replaced by a warm, genuine smile.

"Hey," he greets, the hum of the stove momentarily forgotten.

"Hey," you reply, unable to keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

Yunho quickly turns off the stove and walks toward you, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "I hope you're hungry."

Titling your head, you are confused by his words, a question forming in your eyes. "Hungry for...?"

Yunho chuckles, a deep, melodious, beautiful sound that resonates within you. "Hungry for your favourite. The one meal I… refused to give you on your first night here." You notice the way Yunho cringes at himself, remembering the incident.

Eyebrows shooting up in surprise, the realisation sinks in. "Wait, you're making it again?"

He nodded, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Yes, a peace offering, if you will."

Your heart swells, the gesture touching you deeply. "Yunho, you really don't have to,"

He delicately places a finger over your lips, effectively silencing any protests that might have arisen. In that moment, Yunho briefly brushes aside the sensation of your soft lips beneath his touch, focusing on his intent.

"I want to," he insists gently, his words carrying a weight of sincerity. The fleeting awareness of the texture of your lips doesn't escape him, but he remains steadfast in his purpose. "Besides," he continues, his expression earnest, "I figured I owe you this. It was a huge dickhead move."

His gesture sends your heart into a rapid rhythm, the gentle touch of his fingers against your lips igniting a flutter of butterflies that seems to take flight throughout your entire body. The sensation is electrifying, a mixture of excitement and nervousness that courses through your veins. In that fleeting moment, his touch holds a power to evoke emotions you hadn't anticipated, leaving you momentarily breathless and utterly captivated.

Gazing into his eyes, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the delicious aroma enveloping them. "I agree,” you laugh out before continuing, “thank you, Yunho."

Yunho's regret for his past actions becomes increasingly evident, a shadow that lingers in his eyes as he interacts with you. His earnest attempts to amend his past mistakes are palpable, and he dedicates himself to making things right and extending a heartfelt apology. You're not blind to his efforts, each gesture and word reflecting his determination to bridge the gap between you. His commitment doesn't go unnoticed by you; you see through the genuine sincerity in his actions.

The appreciation you feel is profound, as you recognize the depth of his remorse and his sincere desire to mend the bond that was strained. His willingness to take responsibility and make amends speaks volumes about the value he places on your connection, and you're moved by his unwavering dedication to repairing what was once broken.

“You know… I never hated you.” Yunho admits, with a sorrowful expression on his face, “I wanted to talk with you, I was going to wait a little longer but I just needed you to know.”

“What do you mean? I'm fairly certain you would feed me to a pool of starving piranhas.” You reply, a joking undertone to your words.

Sighing, Yunho runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head, his expression pained. "Back in high school… I thought you had left because you believed the rumours, even though the night before you said you would help. I was wrong about you. I didn't want to let anyone in again. I didn't want to get close to someone just to have them hurt us again."

You nod in understanding, remembering how guarded Yunho used to be. "I get it. You had your reasons for being cautious."

Yunho's eyes meet yours, and they're filled with regret, as he speaks his voice cracks, "I never knew the real reason. I had no idea you were dealing with so much pain, that you were grieving for your mother and brother. And I didn't even bother to ask. I judged you without knowing anything about your situation."

His words hang in the air for a moment. You can see the depth of his regret, and it's clear that he's carrying a heavy burden of guilt.

“Yunho,” you call the man's name, seeing he is starting to get slightly restless, “it’s okay. Like you said, the mind is a powerful thing. I don't blame you for thinking like that. I am so sorry, when my mom died I should've found you guys,”

“No, no. It is not your fault, tiny.” Yunho exclaims, moving closer to you, “we should have done better, I should have done better.”

“I understand you were hurt.”

“That doesn't validate my behaviour,”

With a delicate touch, the taller man's hands find their place on your face, his palms cradling your cheeks with a tenderness that's both reassuring and profound. The gentle pressure prompts you to lift your gaze, locking eyes with him.

The emotions that swim within his gaze are more intense than you've ever witnessed before; sincere, affectionate, and raw. They mirror the same love and intensity you remember from years ago, as if time hasn't dulled the depth of his feelings. In that moment, his embrace has a tangible effect on you, causing a gentle quiver in your knees.

The vulnerability and closeness shared between you create a connection that's both soothing and electrifying, a reminder of the powerful emotions that have always existed between you two.

Yunho's gaze turns tender as he looks at you, his tears now flowing freely. "I realised after the one trip to the store for your moisturiser, that I care about you a lot more than I let myself believe. I was so scared of letting someone in, of getting close to someone again, that I pushed you away."

Your heart aches at his vulnerability and his raw emotions. "Yunho..."

He interrupts you gently, his voice quivering, "Let me finish. I just… it’s eating me alive."

Yunho's voice trembles as he struggles to maintain eye contact, his emotions finally spilling out after years of being buried deep within him.

"All these years I was trying to find an excuse to hate you, to get you out of my mind but I just couldn’ t. I... I had finally started to open up to you," he begins, his words coming out in a shaky, broken cadence. "But then we ran into Danny at the store, and it just... it ruined everything." Yunho's voice cracks, and he takes a deep, ragged breath to steady himself.

You can see the pain etched on his face as he continues, his words laden with regret and sorrow. "Just as I allowed myself to open to you, I felt like I was losing you all over again. You didn't come home for a week, and I thought... I thought everything from four years ago was happening again.”

His admission is raw and vulnerable, and it tugs at your heart. You reach out and gently place a hand on his, offering support and understanding.

"Yunho," you say softly, your voice filled with empathy. "I had no idea how my absence was affecting you, and I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. I’m so sorry for putting you through this."

“It’s not your fault, tiny.” Yunho’s voice trembles as he speaks, “I… have this horrible vision in my head everytime I close my eyes. You on that rooftop breaking into pieces when we said we would be there for you. Fuck, I should’ve stayed and looked for you.”

Yunho looks at you with tears falling out of his eyes, and his grip on your hand tightens as if he's afraid you'll slip away once more. "I should have trusted you, believed in you. And I should have told you how I felt."

You squeeze his hand reassuringly, tears also starting to well up in your eyes. "Yunho, we can't change the past, but we can learn from it and move forward together. I want you to know that I care about you deeply, and I appreciate your honesty now."

A glimmer of hope flickers in Yunho's eyes as he meets your gaze. "Really?"

You offer him a warm, genuine smile. "Yes, really. I don't want you to feel like you have to hide your feelings anymore. We can work through this together. Get that vision out of your head, I’m here now that's all that matters."

Yunho visibly relaxes, and he lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank you for understanding and for forgiving me. I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Yunho," you murmur his name, the single syllable carrying a weight of emotion and longing. Tears fall out of your own eyes as you listen to his words, your emotions becoming far too much to bottle up. The intensity of the eye contact between you both only amplifies the effect, causing a gentle quiver to run through your legs, threatening to make your knees buckle under the weight of the moment. The connection you share in this instant feels almost overwhelming, as if the unspoken emotions between you are echoing in the space between your gazes.

Yunho inches closer, the charged atmosphere between you and Yunho creates a palpable tension that seems to envelop the space around you. Both of you are on the brink of something electrifying, drawn by an irresistible pull that transcends words. The world around you fades into the background, leaving only the two of you in this suspended moment.

His gaze locks onto yours, the intensity in his eyes mirroring the depth of the emotions swirling within you. It seems as if your breaths synchronise, you feel the warmth of his proximity, a magnetic force that draws you closer and closer. It's as if time has stopped completely, allowing you to savour every heartbeat, every heartbeat that echoes the anticipation in your chest.

The space between your lips narrows, the distance between you diminishing with each heartbeat. The air feels charged with an almost tangible energy, and you can practically taste the closeness as your eyelashes brush against his skin. Every cell in your body seems attuned to his presence, and your heart races in response to the intimate connection that's about to be forged.

Just as your lips are about to meet in a moment of breathtaking intimacy, a sudden interruption fractures the enchanting spell that had woven around you. Jongho's voice breaks through the charged atmosphere, his innocent question about dinner piercing through the cocoon of intimacy you had created.

“Hey, when's dinner gonna be ready?"

The moment shatters, and the almost-kiss dissipates like mist in the wind as both you and Yunho jump away from each other, shocked by the sudden intrusion to your tender moment. Both you and Yunho are left suspended in the aftermath of what could have been. The emotions that had built up still linger, leaving you both with a sense of longing and a mixture of amusement at the unforeseen interruption.

Despite the interruption, the lingering tension and the unspoken emotions continue to reverberate between you two. The memory of that suspended moment remains etched in your mind, a testament to the unspoken bond that connects you and Yunho.

“Uh…” Yunho clears his throat as he rests against the counter, trying to regain his composure. Yet, the red faced, jittery expression he wears is a clear indicator for what might have been transpiring before Jongho entered the room, and he momentarily feels awfully guilty for stepping in on your moment. “It’ll be ready in about ten minutes.”

Yunho wipes his eyes and returns to his cooking duties, the clatter of utensils and the sizzle of ingredients filling the space as he carries on with the task at hand. Meanwhile, you opt to take a seat at the kitchen island, positioning yourself so that you have a clear view of him. Your gaze remains on him, watching his every move, the tension between you both still lingering in the air like an unspoken secret.

The intense atmosphere persists, the electricity of the almost-kiss still crackling beneath the surface. It's a noticeable presence, a reminder of the emotions that had surged between you just moments ago. Yet, despite the lingering tension, you make a conscious decision to tuck it away for now.

There is something intimate about watching Yunho work, a kind of vulnerability in seeing someone so capable and confident letting his guard down in the space you share.

Time seems to blur as you talk, about everything and nothing. He shares stories of his experiments in the kitchen, his culinary triumphs and disasters, causing an eruption of giggles to emit from you.

The story of him trying to cook pasta without water makes you almost topple over from your chair at the island, another wave of laughs erupting when you see the playfully offended look on his features.

“I had never cooked before!” Yunho exclaims, pointing a spatula at you, a pout evident on his features.

“I thought it was common sense to cook pasta in water?” You say, wiping away the tears from your eyes, “did you just put it in a frying pan with oil or something?”

“Yes?” Yunho admits, laughing at himself along with you.

"Actually," he begins as he gives you a small spoonful of the pasta sauce to taste, a twinkle in his eyes, "I used to cook for the guys a lot before we came here. They were my first official taste testers."

You grin as you take the spoon of the creamy sauce in your hand, "So, I'm guessing you've had plenty of practice."

“They have seen my best and worst meals, Wooyoung, Seonghwa and I cook a lot now,” he says, a tender expression on his face “but today is different. Today, this meal is just for you."

You put the spoon into your mouth, and it is a work of art, the flavours exploding on your taste buds like a symphony of tastes you can never get enough of.

"Is it good?" he asks, his gaze fixed on your reaction.

All you manage is a frantic nod, unable to speak as you savour the dish. When you finally find your voice, you look up at him with appreciation. "Yunho, this is amazing."

He chuckles, relieved by your response. "I'm glad you like it.”

With your fork suspended mid-air, you study Yunho closely. "You didn't have to do this, you know? But I'm really glad you did."

Leaning back against the counter, Yunho’s expression softens, a smile spreading across his features. "I know, but I wanted to. I wanted to make it up to you."

Putting your fork down, your eyes meet his. "You already did."

Yunho grins, a genuine, heartfelt expression that makes your heart flutter. "Good."

“I’ll call the boys to get down,” you say, standing up from your chair.

“___, wait,” Yunho calls out from his place behind the stove.

Turning to him, you raise your eyebrow gently, silently asking him to continue.

“Thank you.” Is all he says, “for accepting me.”

“Likewise, Yu.”

—

Finishing the meal amongst the eight men, the laughter filling the house, the conversations flowing effortlessly makes you feel alive. As the evening sun casts a gentle glow through the dining room windows, you realise that this simple meal was more than just food. It was a symbol of friendship, love, of understanding, and of a connection that has only grown stronger.

Now, the late-night hours cast a quiet stillness over your room, illuminated only by the soft glow of your desk lamp. The steady hum of your laptop fan provides a rhythmic backdrop as you focus on the assignment your professor had sprung upon you unexpectedly.

But despite your determined efforts, your mind remains ensnared by a web of thoughts, every keystroke a struggle against the memories of the almost-kiss shared with Yunho earlier in the kitchen. Your fingers dance across the keyboard, forming sentences and paragraphs, but your mind keeps drifting back to the intense atmosphere that had enveloped you both. The vivid recollection of his gaze locked onto yours, the almost-touch of your lips, and the way time had seemed to stand still, it's all etched into your mind like an indelible mark.

The cursor blinks on your screen, waiting for words that elude you. Your thoughts are a swirl of sensations, the memory of his proximity evoking an electric shiver that refuses to be ignored. You imagine what could have been if Jongho hadn't walked in, your mind painting vivid scenarios of a kiss that never happened. The tempting "what if" lingers like an unfinished melody, taunting you with unexplored possibilities.

A sudden, daring thought tugs at your consciousness, the idea of seeking out Yunho, of finishing what was nearly initiated in the kitchen. Yet, the notion feels bold, an uncharted territory you're hesitant to traverse. Your fingers hover above the keyboard, caught between caution and longing, your heart pounding in your chest. You don't want to come off as needy or pushy. You remind yourself that he likes you, yet it seems like you would be pushing an unspoken boundary set by yourself.

Frustration simmers, the assignment all but forgotten as your desire for resolution intensifies. Unable to bear the confines of your room any longer, you push away your laptop, rising from your seat with a mix of determination and trepidation.

The hallway outside your room offers a breath of fresh air, a fleeting relief from the weight of your thoughts. But just as you take a few steps, fate intervenes – Yunho emerges from his own room, swinging the door open with a determined force. Suddenly, the corridor feels an awful lot smaller, the tension that had driven you out now amplified in his very presence.

“Yunho,” his name slips from your lips like a whisper, laced with longing and vulnerability. The shared tension is palpable, the intense air heavy with unspoken emotions that hang between you. Your call for his name was all he needed to hear, the longing undertone obvious in your voice.

Yunho's response is almost instinctual, his strides purposeful as he bridges the distance between you. There's a shared understanding in his eyes, an acknowledgment of the shared longing that has brought you both to this moment. His hands reach for your face, his touch gentle yet tinged with urgency, and the next instant, his lips crash onto yours.

The collision of your mouths is an uncontainable release of the emotions that have been building, a fervent union that's both messy and desperate. Your back meets the wall with a soft thud, the sensation distant against the fervour of the kiss. His lips move against yours with a fierce tenderness, each touch a testament to the emotions that have long been simmering beneath the surface. It's a kiss that speaks of longing, desire, and unspoken words, a passionate confession of everything that words can't convey. In this shared moment, you both explore what could have been, pouring the unvoiced feelings into this raw and unfiltered connection. The kiss, messy yet loving, has brought you to the precipice of something uncharted and thrilling.

In a bold and decisive move, Yunho's lips remain locked onto yours as he gently pushes your body backward. The transition from the corridor to your room is seamless, his movements confident and calculated, as if he's familiar with every nook and cranny. His lips stay connected to yours, the kiss deepening in intensity, a passionate exchange that leaves no room for hesitation.

With a practised finesse, he navigates your room as if it were his own domain. His hands, once cradling your face, now slide down your arms, his touch electric against your skin. The door clicks shut behind you, leaving the outside world behind and creating a cocoon of shared desire within the confines of your room. Yunho's skillful manoeuvres paint a vivid picture of his determination and longing. It's as if he's been waiting for this moment, seizing it with a confidence that matches the unspoken emotions that have been building between you.

Guiding you further into your room, his lips never leaving yours, the air is heavy with electricity, the intensity of your connection noticeable. The sensations of his touch, the taste of his kiss, and the intoxicating feeling of his presence leave you both breathless and wanting more.

When you feel the edge of your bed hit the back of your calves, a slight stumble causes your balance to waver. Seizing the moment, Yunho's quick reflexes come into play. His strong arms encircle your waist, pulling you closer to him with a reassuring strength. In an effortless display of his capabilities, he lifts you up, your feet momentarily leaving the ground.

His actions are seamless and purposeful, his movements confident as he turns the two of you around. Before you know it, you're being lowered onto your bed, the softness of the mattress cushioning your fall. With a gentle yet firm touch, he guides you to rest atop him, your bodies now intimately aligned as you now lay to straddle his waist, your chest pressed flat against his.

The weight of your bodies pressed together is both comforting and electrifying, a tangible representation of the connection you share. Yunho's presence beneath you is a witness to his desire and the unspoken emotions that have been simmering between you.

Yunho's lips stay against yours, a rhythmic and intoxicating movement that ignites a surge of sensations. His kiss is accompanied by a daring exploration, as his tongue gently presses at the barrier of your lips. The moment you grant him access, the kiss transforms, deepening in both passion and intimacy. It's as if the floodgates have opened, allowing a torrent of emotions to surge between you, each touch of your lips amplifying the intensity of your shared desire.

The world beyond your room becomes a distant echo, the insignificance of the outside fading into oblivion. The entirety of your focus is now on this moment, on the sensations that ripple through your body with every brush of his lips.

Yunho's embrace remains tight, his arms encircling you in a cocoon of warmth and desire. One arm secures your lower waist, drawing you closer to him, while the other curves around your upper back. His hand anchors you at the nape of your neck, a touch that's both possessive and tender, as if he's afraid you might slip away from him.

In a swift yet graceful motion, Yunho once again shifts your positions. The world tilts and adjusts as he manoeuvres, and now he rests nestled between your legs, your back against the bed. The shift in your arrangement only serves to fuel the fire between you. The kiss becomes more fervent, igniting a blaze that courses through your veins, warming every inch of your body with an undeniable desire.

With every brush of his lips and every touch of his travelling hands, the intimacy deepens, and the connection between you two intensifies. It's a moment that transcends words, a silent conversation of longing and need that finds its expression in the press of your bodies and the rush of your kisses. In this stolen moment, you're both suspended in the midst of a passion that's both tender and consuming, aching to explore every corner of the uncharted territory that you were so scared of.

Time becomes an abstract concept, as minutes slip away unnoticed in the embrace of shared desire and pining. The sensation of Yunho's lips moving against yours, the taste of him, the heat of his body pressed against yours, it's as if the world outside your room ceases to exist. In this intimate space, the only thing that matters is the sensation of being wrapped up in each other, the only thing that matters is Yunho

Every touch, every stolen kiss, is evidence to the unspoken connection that binds you together. The taste of him on your lips is like a drug, an intoxicating elixir that you can't help but crave more of. The press of his body against yours ignites a fire that burns with an intensity you've never experienced before. It's as if all you need, all you want, is right here in this moment, in his arms.

With each passing second, you find yourself falling deeper into the abyss of your own desires. The taste of him, the intensity of his kisses, and the press of his body against yours create a symphony of sensations that you're powerless to resist. The feelings that swirl within you are a heady mixture of longing, lust, and possessiveness – emotions that take root and refuse to let go.

When his large hands slip slightly beneath your shorts, their warm touch against your skin sends a shiver down your spine. The sensation of his large hands massaging your hips lovingly creates a surge of desire that's almost overwhelming in its intensity. The sudden rush of lust catches you off guard, and a twinge of fear flits through your thoughts. What if you aren't good enough?

The sudden tenseness in your body doesn't go unnoticed by Yunho, as his lips part from yours, concern etching itself across his features. The sudden shift from intense desire to a cautious distance creates a palpable shift in the atmosphere.

“I am so sorry, did I go too far?” His worry is reflected in his gaze, and his question hangs in the air like a delicate thread, waiting for your response.

Your thoughts are a whirlwind, emotions swirling within you, and the weight of his question settles heavily on your shoulders. As you gaze into his eyes, you find yourself at a crossroads, torn between the yearning you feel and the need to address your own reservations.

“No, it’s not that.” You begin, and you see the man above you relax slightly, “I haven't really done anything like this in a while.” you hesitate in your words, “Seonghwa and I kissed yesterday…” you watch carefully for Yunho’s reaction as you admit what transpired yesterday between you and his older friend, however when Yunho stays calm, only a reassuring smile on his features, you realise he doesn't mind you kissed Seonghwa, so you continue, “I haven’t really done anything like this in a long time, let alone with this many emotions, it's a little new to me.”

Yunho lets your admission render in his brain, as he thinks of an adequate response.

“It’s okay, tiny. We don't have to do anything.” Yunho says, bringing his hand up to brush away a stray hair from your face. “I’m happy to just be here with you.”

“Can we maybe…” you begin, not quite having the confidence to voice your wishes.

“Go ahead, I won't judge you.”

“Can we just lay here, with each other?” you question, feeling an intense heat travelling up your neck, “and kiss a little?”

“You want to kiss me?” a playful smile tugs at the corner of Yunho's lips as he teases you, his fingers gently pinching your cheek. His touch is light, yet it carries a spark of mischief that's mirrored in his eyes. The delicate pinch elicits the most adorable reaction Yunho could imagine, your cheeks puffing out in embarrassment, a gesture that has Yunho’s belly blowing up with butterflies.

Caught between his teasing and your own bashfulness, you can't help but hide your face in your hands, seeking refuge from the playful banter. A soft laugh escapes his lips, the sound a warm melody that dances through the air.

The atmosphere shifts from intense desire to a lighter, more lighthearted mood, as his teasing draws out your natural charm.

“Of course we can, tiny. Warning you though, I might fall asleep.” Yunho responds before laying his head on your chest, hugging your side tightly.

Yunho's form cuddles into your side, a sense of disbelief washes over you. The events of the night feel like a dream, a surreal turn of events that you could never have predicted. The contrast between the man who was once distant and rude to you and the person now nuzzling against you is staggering, leaving you in a state of wonderment.

His presence, warm and comforting, feels almost too good to be true. The way he holds you close, like a puppy seeking comfort, is a stark difference from the impression he had initially left. It's a transformation that you can't quite wrap your mind around, leaving you in awe of the complexity of human nature and the potential for change.

As you lay side by side, the weight of the night's events lingers in the air, mingling with the comfort of his embrace. The stark difference between his previous demeanour and the person he is now raises questions in your mind. Could the others have hidden depths as well? Could they, too, harbour hidden facets of their personalities that have yet to be uncovered?

The intimacy and vulnerability you've shared with Yunho have opened up a world of possibilities. The walls that once separated you from each other have crumbled, revealing a new layer of understanding and connection. In this moment of quiet reflection, you can't help but wonder what other surprises await, both from Yunho and the others who share your living space.

Yunho's gentle breathing against your side indicates that he's gradually drifting into sleep, finding solace in your presence. As you bask in the quiet comfort of the moment, the sudden ding of your phone startles you. You instinctively reach for the device on your bedside table, your movements careful so as not to disturb the slumbering man beside you.

With your phone in hand, you illuminate the screen to reveal the new text message. As your eyes scan the words, a mixture of shock and apprehension washes over you, sending a shiver down your spine. The message contains something that leaves you both shaken and concerned, and you can't help but feel a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach as you read over the cryptic words.

‘Have fun with my boys. It won't last long. <;8’

The morning sun peeks through your curtains, a cascade of soft, golden light floods your room. You inhale deeply, savouring the warm aroma of the dawn, as you snuggle in the embrace of your fresh, crisp bed sheets. The faint melody of chirping birds reaches your ears through the open window, their songs leaving you with a sense of calmness. Meanwhile, the gentle caress of the cool breeze sends delightful shivers cascading down your skin, awakening every nerve, leaving goosebumps upon your skin. It took you very long to fall asleep last night, the cryptic message you received replaying in your mind.

It takes a fleeting moment to regain your bearings, and the chill from the open window prompts you to cuddle even deeper into your warmth of sheets. Yet, your efforts are briefly halted as you sense the comforting presence of another person beside you, an arm enveloping your torso in a secure embrace.

Turning your gaze to the unexpected warmth, you're momentarily taken aback. However, a wave of relaxation washes over you as you discover Yunho's relaxed sleeping image just inches from your face.

His face bears a slight puffiness, his lips softly parted, and his cheeks adorned with a gentle, rosy hue. His tousled hair covers his forehead, pointing in many directions, the image causes a fond smile to grace your lips.

At this moment, you still find yourself struggling to fully comprehend the sudden shift in his demeanour. You are most definitely not unhappy with his change, yet you do realise it will take some getting used to.

Staring at Yunho for a few moments longer, it suddenly occurs to you that you must get up and ready for school, Yunho, and the strange message temporarily leaves your thoughts. You make a cautious attempt to extricate yourself from the slumbering presence beside you, but as you shift, he stirs in his sleep, responding by drawing you even closer, nuzzling his nose into the curve of your neck.

In a soft, raspy voice, Yunho murmurs, "Don't go yet," sending a flurry of butterflies swirling through your stomach. His face remains nestled against your neck, his breath fanning your skin, causing goosebumps to rise up your neck.

“I have to get ready,” You attempt to say, trying to ignore the way his raspy voice sends shivers down your spine.

“Please stay.” Yunho mumbles and you can almost feel the pout upon his lips.

“I have to, Yunho.” You say, holding in a fond giggle as you see him desperately tug onto you.

“Okay,” he mumbles, the pout on his face increasing as he turns around fully, grumbling into the pillows. A soft laugh escapes your lips as you tenderly ruffle his hair, and with a lingering glance, you reluctantly leave the room, making your way to the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, your eyes lock onto Wooyoung, and a pleasant surprise lights up your face. Normally not an early riser, spotting Wooyoung in the morning brings an immediate smile to your lips. Beside him stands Jongho, whose presence you had anticipated. They engage in a lively conversation, genuine smiles gracing their features.

You take a moment to observe the pair, noting the relaxed way they chuckle together, the tender glances they exchange, and how their bodies naturally gravitate towards each other. It's a sight that warms your heart.

You realise that you haven't had a proper chance to talk with Jongho since he approached you at school to settle the conflict with your eight roommates. As you approach them, your heart quickens at the way their faces light up upon noticing you.

Jongho's voice, soft and affectionate, calls out your name, leaving no doubt about the warmth of his feelings.

“Where are you off to? I thought your lessons started in the afternoon?” Wooyoung asks, and for some reason you sense a trace of sadness in his tone, you aren't sure as to why it is there.

“I’m going to see Jisung, we want to have breakfast together.” You reply, sending a curious look in Wooyoung's direction, to which he avoids eye contact and immediately looks away from you, playing with the mug in front of him, causing your curiosity to further intensify. Looking over at Jongho, you notice he also has a trace of curiosity lining his features.

“No breakfast with us today?” Jongho asks, a joking pout upon his lips.

“Not today, I’m sorry.” you answer, offering him a warm smile to which Jongho seems to take well.

You head to the refrigerator, retrieving a bottle of water, all the while keeping an eye on Wooyoung. His unusual quietness doesn't escape your notice; he appears deeply engrossed in his mug, his typical remarks conspicuously absent. It leaves a noticeable void in the atmosphere, and concern gnaws at you, wondering what might be weighing on his mind and making the space feel somewhat strange.

Just as you muster the courage to inquire about what might be bothering Wooyoung, he abruptly rises from his seat and strides toward the room's exit, heading upstairs. A rush of unease and apprehension washes over you, leaving you feeling suddenly upset and anxious about the abrupt change in his demeanour. For a fleeting moment, you think that you might be the cause, given that he had been perfectly fine just moments before you entered the room.

In response to your unspoken worries, Jongho speaks up, his voice tinged with a touch of concern. "He's fine, ____," he reassures you. "Don't worry."

With a subtle nod, you retreat back into your room, your heart pounding with an unsettling intensity. Fear creeps under your skin like an unwelcome guest. Does Wooyoung no longer have feelings for you? Was his previous confession a mistake? You stand there, facing the closed door, locked in a battle of uncertainty, wondering if you should muster the courage to return and seek answers, all the while grappling with the unsettling unease that has wrapped around you.

The abrupt interruption of your thoughts by your ringing phone startles you. You hastily glance at your bedside table, realising it's responsible for stirring the sleeping giant in your bed, Yunho. For a moment, you'd forgotten he was still there, and you can't help but chuckle at the sight of him, cozied up to one of your stuffed toys. It appears that Yunho is quite the cuddlebug.

Rushing over to your phone, you fumble to silence the ringing, determined not to rouse the slumbering man beside you. As you answer, it's Jisung's voice that greets you on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Ji, what's up?" you whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

"Hey! Why are you whispering?" Jisung's curiosity cuts through the speakers, tinged with a hint of excitement.

You attempt to offer a nonchalant response, although you're not particularly skilled at lying. "No reason, it's just early."

"Okay… we're still meeting in an hour, right?" Jisung inquires, thankfully not probing further into your behaviour.

"Yeah, I just need to shower quickly," you assure him.

"Alright, see you in a bit!" Jisung quickly hangs up, and you can't help but smile at his somewhat chaotic nature.

With your phone now silent, you turn your attention back to the peacefully sleeping Yunho, who seems to have settled even more comfortably with your stuffed toy. You can't help but admire his endearing cuddly side, a stark contrast to the confident and mature persona he often displays. With a warm smile on your face, you prepare to get ready to see Jisung.

Strolling down the pebbled path, the rhythmic sound of your footsteps crunching under the stones echoes softly in the serene surroundings. Your eyes scan the familiar landscape until they land on your best friend, nestled beneath the sprawling canopy of a large blossoming tree. He is deeply engrossed in his notebook, pen dancing across the pages as he pours his thoughts into words. It was a familiar sight, your friend lost in the world of his creativity, likely penning lyrics for another one of his songs.

You had always held a deep appreciation for his creative side. His lyrics and melodies had an uncanny ability to resonate with you, often touching the chords of your own emotions. Each song he crafts is like a piece of his soul laid bare, and you are fortunate to be one of the few who could witness the birth of these lyrical masterpieces. You are then reminded of Mingi and his own creativity. Mingi and Jisung would definitely get along.

Approaching quietly so as not to disrupt his flow, you watch him for a moment. The rays of sunlight filtering through the blossoms above cast gentle patterns of light and shadow over him, accentuating the intent look on his face. His fingers tapping the notebook rhythmically as if coaxing the words from his heart.

Your heart swells with pride for your friend's artistic talents. It was moments like these, witnessing his creative process, that reminded you of the depth of your bond. As he continues to write, you can’t help but smile.

"Hey Ji," you say softly, now standing close enough for him to notice your presence beneath the blossoming tree.

Jisung's head shoots up from his notebook, surprise flickering across his face before breaking into a wide grin.

"Hey!" He closes the notebook and sets it aside, inviting you to join him in the small patch of shade beneath the tree.

You ease yourself onto the ground beside him, the grass feeling cool and inviting. The delicate scent of blossoms fills the air, and you inhale deeply, savouring the moment.

"What's the inspiration today?" you ask, gesturing to his notebook.

Jisung's eyes twinkle with excitement as he leans in closer, as though sharing a secret.

"I've been thinking about that road trip we took last summer, you know, the one to the coast? The waves crashing against the shore, the salt in the air… It's all coming together in my mind."

Your heart flutters with nostalgia at the mention of that memorable journey. You notice Jisung is in a sentimental mood, like he is most of the time when he writes, causing you to feel yourself falling into the same mood. It has always been alien to you how much your and Jisung’s moods can mirror each other.

"I remember it very well," you say, a soft smile playing on your lips. "That sunset was insane.”

Jisung questions you, his eyes wide and sparkling, “what was your favourite part? I need more inspiration.”

You ponder on your thoughts, recalling the trip, “probably when we had that huge bonfire, and you were determined to roast marshmallows, but the fire was way too wild and you almost burnt off your eyebrows.”

Jisung lets out a loud laugh, remembering the scene as if it was yesterday.

You continue, “the smell of the sea, the fresh air. The feeling of freedom...”

Jisung's gaze softens as he gazes at you, his eyes filled with gratitude.

"Exactly, ____," he whispers. "Those moments, those feelings, nostalgia and feeling free. They're all part of this song."

You can't help but feel touched by his words. It's as if he has a unique ability to capture the emotions and shared experiences and make them into melodies.

"Well I’m very grateful you love me so much to make a song out of it,” Jisung chuckles before nudging your shoulder with his own. You continue talking, “your songs have a way of making memories even more special," you tell him.

He laughs modestly, running his hand through his hair. "I guess I have a good way of turning what I feel into words."

“That's what makes you special.”

The two of you sit in companionable silence for a moment, taking in the serenity of the blossoming tree and the memories it holds. It's a place you both frequently visit, a spot of quiet reflection amidst the hustle and bustle of life. The tree’s delicate petals dance in the breeze

Jisung offers you a warm smile as he passes you a croissant. Jisung had brought a small picnic with him, a collection of your favourite snacks and a thermos of hot coffee to ward off the slight chill in the air. The two of you used to do this all the time when you first started this school. The story of your friendship with Jisung traced its origins back to the very first day of university, a day etched in your memory for its mix of confusion and chance.

It had been a chaotic morning. You were a wide-eyed freshman, clutching a stack of textbooks and notebooks to your chest like a lifeline. The huge university campus had felt like a labyrinth, and you had no idea where to find your first class. In your quest for the dean's office, where you hoped to get directions, you navigated through a sea of students, your nerves escalating with every passing minute.

Jisung, on the other hand, had always been something of a whirlwind. He had a tendency to be lost in thought, even while navigating the bustling campus. On that fateful morning, his mind had been consumed by thoughts of class schedules, room numbers, and the whirlwind of university life, along with the gentle hum of music through his headphones.

And so, it happened. You both collided in the weirdest way. You, with your arms full of books and your gaze locked on a campus map, didn't see him coming. Jisung, equally oblivious, was deep in thought, head buried in his own class schedule.

The impact was both comical and chaotic. Books scattered like confetti, your class notes tumbled to the ground, and Jisung's schedule ended up in a similar state of disarray.

For a moment, you both stared at each other, shocked and disoriented. Your books lay in a haphazard pile at your feet, and Jisung's papers fluttered around you like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind.

"I'm so sorry!" the blonde male manages to blurt out, scrambling to pick up his errant schedule. "I didn't see you there. Are you okay?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. "I think so. Are you okay?"

He flashed you a sheepish grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah, just a bit scattered. First day jitters, you know?"

Both gathering your belongings, you realised that this stranger who had literally bumped into your life might be your saving grace on this bewildering first day.

"I'm actually looking for the dean's office," you admitted, your voice tinged with embarrassment. "I'm completely lost."

Jisung's expression brightens as he extends a hand to help you up. "No worries! I'm headed there, too. We can find it together."

From that moment, your friendship with Jisung began to take root. He became your guide through the maze-like university campus, showing you the ropes, introducing you to his group of friends which you found out they were all from the same highschool, and sharing in the ups and downs of the university journey.

The blossoms continued to fall around you, a reminder that even amidst the chaos and uncertainty of life, beautiful friendships could bloom from the most unexpected collisions.

"Isn't this place just magical?" Jisung exclaimed, his eyes scanning the pink and white canopy above. "I can't believe we're graduating this year."

You nodded, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Graduation was indeed on the horizon, and it brought with it a mix of excitement and nostalgia. You cherished these moments with Jisung, knowing that they were soon to become cherished memories.

“You look better, ____. I’m glad the talk went well.” Jisung smiles at you and you recall the talk you had a few days ago. You feel grateful that Jisung doesn't pry for knowledge.

As you nibble on the croissant, you realise you owe your best friend an explanation of what happened, so you muster up the courage to speak about the topic that had been gnawing at you for a few days.

"Jisung," you began, your voice soft and hesitant, "there's something I need to talk to you about."

He turns to you, his eyes filled with genuine concern. "Of course, anything. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Taking a deep breath, you decided to dive right in. "It's about the boys. They... they said they have feelings for me, romantic feelings."

The words hung in the air, and the rustling of leaves seemed to hush in anticipation. Jisung's gaze remained steady, his expression an anchor in the sea of emotions swirling within you. There is a visage of shock upon his features, yet he doesn't speak.

"They've all been so kind and caring," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't deny that I've grown close to them, too."

Jisung nods slowly, processing your confession. "I see. That's quite a situation. But that also proves how awesome and lovable of a person you are."

You sigh, a mix of emotions welling up inside you. "I appreciate that, but... I'm scared, Jisung. Scared to give an answer. Scared of hurting them or losing the friendships we've built."

Jisung reaches out and places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the moment. "It's natural to be afraid, especially when it involves the hearts of people you care about. But you can't let that fear paralyse you

You meet his gaze, finding comfort in his wisdom. "But what if I say yes and it ruins everything? What if I say no, and it still changes everything?"

Jisung chuckles softly, his voice carrying a sense of understanding. "Life is full of uncertainties, ____. But it's also full of opportunities for growth and love. You don't have to have all the answers now. Take your time, communicate openly with them, and trust that the bonds you've built can withstand these challenges."

Sipping your coffee, the warmth spreads through you, you can’t help but be grateful for Jisung's presence and wisdom. Jisung, always open and honest, begins to share his own experiences. He speaks about his own relationship, how it hasn’t always been perfect, but how it had thrived because both he and Minho were willing to work through the challenges.

"Love, whether it's romantic or platonic, requires effort," Jisung says, his voice gentle but firm. "It's about understanding, compromise, and a willingness to grow together. Sometimes, things get tough, but it's the willingness to work through those tough times that truly defines a relationship."

You listen intently, savouring his words. His insights shed light on the complexities of love and the importance of communication.

"As for the boys," Jisung continues, "they care about you deeply, and it's clear that you care about them, too. Take the time to understand your own feelings, communicate openly, and remember that love has a way of finding its own path."

"Thank you, Jisung. I knew you'd have the right advice."

He gives you a warm smile, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently. "That's what best friends are for, isn't it? Though I can’t say I'm not jealous."

“What are you saying?” You laugh, questioning his words.

“The Park Seonghwa likes you, along with all of them. They are very good looking.”

“That’s not the reason I like them, idiot. Their looks are just a huge bonus.”

“Okay, okay.”

A mischievous spark dances in your eyes as you decide to inject a playful twist into the conversation. "We kissed."

You delivered the words with a deadpan expression, your voice laced with just the right amount of nonchalance. It was a statement so out of context that you knew it would elicit a humorous reaction from your best friend.

Jisung's eyes widened in surprise, his composed posture coming to an abrupt halt. He blinked at you, clearly taken aback by the unexpected revelation. "What, you kissed Park Seonghwa?" Jisung almost screams as he hears your words.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, all the while trying to shush him in case someone overhears the conversation.

"Jisung you need to learn to control your volume levels," You laugh.

Jisung suddenly scurries towards you on his knees, a mischievous look plastered on his features.

“With tongue or without?” he whispers, as if he is a kid in highschool talking about their first kiss.

“Grow up Jisung,” You laugh loudly at his immature question, Jisung also falling backwards, laughing at himself.

Jisung lets out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. "I need to know if I have to buy a suit and a fancy hat for the wedding."

“We are not getting married now, and if you turn up at my wedding with a fancy hat I will not let you in.”

“My fashion ideals are beyond your comprehension.” Jisung rolls his eyes whilst crossing his arms.

Eventually, Jisung turns to you, his eyes filled with curiosity as he seemingly remembers something. "So, what had you whispering into the phone earlier?" he asks, suddenly he gets overly excited, “Did you sleep with Seonghwa?”

You can't help but blush, feeling somewhat exposed. Jisung knows you well, and secrets between you two are a rarity. "We did not," you reply with a grin. "I was whispering because I might've woken Yunho, but it turned out fine."

“Wait, Yunho? I thought you guys weren't on great terms,”

“Well, he apologised, very well I might add. He made my favourite meal then… we almost kissed in the kitchen, it was intense, you would have screamed Ji. But then Jongho walked in…”

“Ugh, homewrecker,” Jisung rolls his eyes, getting annoyed that Jongho ruined the moment, yet he cannot seem to stay mad at Jongho, seeing as he had become rather fond of him after the confrontation the other day.

“Ji, he just walked in at the wrong time,” you exclaim, slightly exasperated but laughing gently, “Well, in the evening I couldn't sleep because of it so I went to go find Yunho.”

“Did you guys have sex?” Jisung almost screams, getting way too invested in your story.

Panic surged through you as soon as those words slipped from Jisung's lips. You knew the topic of your roommates and their romantic feelings was something that needed to be kept under wraps, at least for now. You hastily reached out and clamped your hand over Jisung's mouth, your eyes wide with urgency.

"Shh! Jisung, not so loud." you whisper urgently, your voice barely more than a hushed breath. You shot a quick glance around, making sure no one was within earshot.

Jisung's eyes widened in realisation, and he nodded as best as he could beneath the constraint of your hand. You slowly removed your hand, ensuring that the coast was clear before continuing the conversation in a hushed tone.

"We can't let anyone overhear us," you explained quietly. "It's... a complicated situation, and I don't want to cause any unnecessary drama." You say, laughing, but also exasperated by your bestfriends words. “And no, we didn’t.”

“Oh, I forgot that you’re gonna be a virgin for life,”

“The only reason I'm still a virgin, is because I would have to lose my V card and I never lose. I’m not a loser, I'm too sexy and macho…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Okay.”

You two stay silent for a few moments, before bursting into laughter. As the two of you sit together beneath the blossoming tree, you're reminded once again of the connections that enrich your life. Whether it's sharing creative inspirations with Jisung or quietly embracing moments of friendship, these bonds make life's journey all the more beautiful. The delicate blossoms above seem to nod in agreement, as if nature itself acknowledges the preciousness of these connections.

For a second, you wonder if you should speak to Jisung about the weird message you received last night, then it seems as if Jisung remembers something, his eyes lighting up for a second, causing you to momentarily forget your concerns.

“I am going to a cute cafe this afternoon with Minho and this girl we met at the mall yesterday. You finish at three today, right. Do you maybe want to come?”

“Mall? I was also there yesterday, I didn't see you guys.”

“Oh, really? That’s so weird, we were mostly in the game stores.”

“Hmm, that’s why,” you nod in agreement, “but sure that sounds fun.”

“I'll meet you at the East exit then, we will meet them there.”

“Sounds good!”

The final lecture of the day concluded, and you couldn't have been more eager to meet up with Jisung at the east wing as planned. As you made your way there, your anticipation grew, and your steps quickened.

True to his nature, Jisung arrived with his usual bright smile, his infectious enthusiasm immediately lifting your spirits. His friendly hug was a warm embrace that signified the beginning of another memorable outing.

"Hey!" he greeted cheerfully, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I hope you're ready for some quality time with your favourite person."

Returning his smile, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation for the day ahead. "Absolutely," you replied, matching his enthusiasm and returning his smile, genuinely looking forward to catching up with Jisung and Minho.

Honestly, you are slightly afraid to meet the new person that Jisung said was coming, you sometimes get awkward meeting new people, so you hope you can find some common interests with them to start a flowing conversation.

Walking together to the cafe, Jisung fills you in on what's been happening in his life, since you told him about yourself in the morning. He talks about his recent adventures, college life, and the projects he and Minho have been working on. Your conversation flows effortlessly, and you feel lucky to have Jisung. Attentively listening to his words, you walk side by side towards the cafe.

“You’re going to love it here, I’ve seen this place all over TikTok.”

Upon arriving at the cafe, you spot Minho already there, sitting with a girl who must be the girl they met at the mall. As you approach, Minho's face lights up, and he stands to greet you with a warm hug.

"Hey, ____, you look great. I'm glad you're feeling better.” Minho says quietly in your ear, his words full of genuine care.

You reciprocate the hug, feeling instantly welcomed by Minho's friendly demeanour, him not being big on hugs, you relish in the fact he gave you one so carefreely.

“Thank you, Minho."

When you part from the hug, you notice the sandy blonde haired girl sitting across from Minho and you put your full attention towards her. She offers you a polite smile and a nod of acknowledgement.

"Hello, nice to meet you, You must be ____." She says, her words pleasant enough, but her tone seems a touch distant, even with a trace of something behind her words, yet you can't quite distinguish what it is.

You take a seat next to Minho, feeling a bit uncertain about the girl’s demeanour.

“That’s me!” You reply, trying to keep positive and lively.

“I’m Ryuha,”

Nodding back, you offer her a smile, and you can't help but notice the way her smile falters ever so slightly. Nevertheless, you continue to hold conversation. Perhaps she is shy around new people.

The small, cosy café gives a warm buzzing atmosphere, the usual clatter of cups and the soft hum of conversations surround you, yet despite the comforting ambience, the vibe that Ryuha is emitting leaves you feeling extremely weird.

As you take a sip of your drink, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you turn your attention to Ryuha. Her presence has been somewhat enigmatic since she arrived, and her dismissive attitude towards you has piqued your interest to say the least. Leaning in slightly, your eyes meet hers, and you can’t help but ask, "So are you going to school around here?"

Ryuha's eyes, sharp as a hawk's, bore into you for a moment before she replies, "No, just visiting here. I go to school by the west coast." Her voice was smooth and measured, but her gaze held an intensity that left you somewhat uneasy.

"That's nice," you continue, trying to keep the conversation flowing and hoping she will warm up to you. "Any reason why you're here?" A warm smile accompanies your words, an attempt to break the ice and bridge the gap that seemed to separate the two of you.

Ryuha's response, however, was far from welcoming. She maintains eye contact with Minho and Jisung, her tone noticeably more pleasant when she answered, "Oh, just exploring a bit, meeting some friends." It was as if an invisible wall had been erected between you and her, and she seemed perfectly content with keeping it firmly in place.

Ryuha continues to engage in the conversation, but something about her body language strikes you as off. While she appears friendly with her words, her eyes occasionally give you a subtly scrutinising look, almost as if she's sizing you up. As the conversation progresses, Ryuha makes comments that are laced with passive-aggressiveness. She offers what seem like compliments, but her tone and expressions suggest otherwise.

For instance, when you mention your recent accomplishments, she responds with, "That's impressive," but her raised eyebrow and faint scowl make it clear she doesn't entirely mean it. Or when Jisung complimented your outfit and she replied with, “it's definitely…unique.” Again when you mention a book you are enjoying, and she says, “that’s not my cup of tea, but everyone has their own tastes.”

When the third passive-aggressive comment slips from Ryuha's lips, a subtle but growing sense of irritation begins to gnaw at you. You can’t help but feel a bit upset, wondering why she seemed so fixated on you, creating an atmosphere of discomfort.

Ryuha's persistent comments left you feeling isolated, as if she had singled you out for some unknown reason. It puzzled you why she would choose to be passive-aggressive with you, while her interactions with Jisung and Minho were filled with kindness.

Despite the growing unease, you opted to maintain your composure. You weren't one to engage in confrontations, especially with someone you had just met. Instead, you focused on the positive aspects of the gathering, cherishing the time spent with Jisung and Minho, and hoping that the mysterious tension created by Ryuha's comments would eventually dissipate.

It is when the subject of dating comes up that Ryuha suddenly seems awfully curious all of a sudden.

Ryuha leans in slightly, her tone carrying a touch of curiosity as she asks, "So, do you have any boyfriends?"

Jisung, ever the friendly and open one, began to answer, "Well, she—"

But you do not let him finish. Something about Ryuha's tone and the way she had been subtly probing throughout the conversation put you on edge. You met Ryuha's gaze with a polite yet guarded expression, deciding to take control of the narrative.

"I'm not seeing anyone at the moment," you reply evenly, your words carefully chosen. It wasn't that you were opposed to sharing, but you had a gut feeling that Ryuha might have ulterior motives for gathering such information. Your trust wasn't easily earned, and you weren't about to hand over personal details to someone you had just met.

“Interesting.”

Jisung, catching on to your hesitation, offers a supportive nod and changes the topic, steering the conversation toward lighter subjects. Ryuha, though her curiosity remained apparent, seemed to respect your boundaries, at least for the time being.

“How about you?” You ask, trying to continue the conversation and ignore the awkward atmosphere that has shaped around you.

“I’m not seeing one at the moment, but I’m interested… they will likely be mine soon.”

Ryuha's eyes locked onto yours with an unwavering intensity, the sudden wave of confidence in her statement became overwhelmingly intimidating. It was as if she possessed an uncanny ability to dissect your thoughts and emotions, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. At that moment, you are almost certain that there is something behind her cryptic comments.

Glancing over at Minho, who is seated next to Ryuha, you cannot help but notice the baffled and almost disgusted expression on his features. It makes you bite back a smile when you realise it is clear that he has caught onto Ryuha's dismissive and rude behaviour. Seeing his reaction provides reassuring confirmation that you weren't imagining things, Ryuha was indeed being impolite and disrespectful.

The silent acknowledgement between you and Minho serves as a small source of solace amidst the uncomfortable atmosphere created by Ryuha's demeanour. It is a silent reminder that you weren't alone in your assessment of the situation, and that there was validity in your discomfort.

Yet, when you shift your gaze to Jisung, who is still lively and enthusiastically chatting with Ryuha, it becomes evident that he has not caught on to her behaviour. His obliviousness to the underlying tension provides a stark contrast to Minho's reaction, highlighting the complexity of the situation.

The conversation flows, yet you cannot shake the feeling that there was more to Ryuha's inquiries than simple curiosity. You decide to stay cautious and trust your instincts when it comes to sharing personal information, especially with someone whose intentions remain shrouded in mystery.

Throughout the conversation, you notice that Ryuha's attention frequently drifts away whenever you speak. It's as though she's dismissive of your words, and you can't help but feel a growing sense of discomfort. Her actions don't align with the polite facade she maintains with her words.

Despite her subtle rudeness, you remain polite and try to engage in the conversation as best as you can. It's important to you that you make a good impression and enjoy this time with Jisung, Minho, and their friend, even though Ryuha's presence remains a mysterious and somewhat uncomfortable aspect of the gathering.

It takes an hour for the gathering at the cafe to come to an end, you have to stop Minho twice from saying something back to Ryuha as she issues yet another passive aggressive comment in your direction. You would rather not have to face a conflict in the middle of a bustling cafe.

The moment you step out of the café and feel the cool breeze on your skin, it is as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. The atmosphere inside had been heavy with tension, and the sense of relief outside is a welcome change. You take a deep breath, savouring the crispness of the afternoon air.

Turning to leave, you are taken aback when Ryuha turns toward you, her sharp gaze still fixed on you. She speaks, her voice smooth and confident, with a hint of something you can’t quite place. "It was nice to meet you, finally," she says, her words hanging in the air.

You furrow your brow, utterly perplexed by her statement. The two of you had never met before today, and you were sure of it. What does she mean by "finally"? You can’t help but wonder if there had been some misunderstanding.

"I mean, Jisung told me so much about you yesterday," Ryuha continues, her tone carrying a sense of familiarity that left you feeling slightly out of place. Her words added to the growing puzzle, as you tried to reconcile her earlier dismissive attitude with this newfound knowledge.

“Anyways, I have places to be. There’s something important I need to do.”

Her enigmatic behaviour continues, leaving you with more questions than answers. Watching as she exchanges warm goodbyes with Minho and Jisung, you cannot help but notice that she doesn’t bid you farewell, further deepening the mystery surrounding her intentions.

“Holy shit, remind me to never meet with her again.” Minho exclaims as soon as he sees Ryuha out of earshot.

“What? She was so nice.” Jisung says, confused to what Minho is saying.

“I’m sorry babe, but you have to have your head up your ass to not see she was a raging bitch. Are you okay?” Minho asks as he turns towards you, scanning you for any trace of discomfort.

“Minho what are you saying? What happened?” Jisung questions, oblivious to the situation.

“It's nothing Ji, she was just kind of off.” You reply, not wanting to start something yet also getting slightly irritated at Jisung’s way to easily trust people.

“Wait, was she?” Jisung questions, yet starting to believe you, seeing as he knows you are able to see through most people.

“She was weird as fuck, almost a pick me, ew.” Minho contributes, a disgusted look on his face, which almost makes you laugh.

“I don't know, I thought she was nice.”

“You're just going to have to trust us, she was strange,” Minho replies.

“Okay…then I hate her. If you don't like her neither do I.”

Laughing gently, you feel grateful for Jisung’s complete understanding. The three of you start to walk towards your respective homes.

“Do you know what is even weirder?” You say after a few moments of silence, judging by the curious looks on your friends face, you decide to continue, “she is so familiar, yet I cannot for the life of me put a name, place, to a face.”

“Creepy.” Minho says, with another disgusted face.

“Maybe you met her before and you were mean?” Jisung adds before correcting himself, “nevermind, I don't think you've been mean to anyone in your life.”

Minho hums in agreement before going deep into contemplation, then speaking once more, “Whatever it is, hopefully we never see her again.”

All you can do is nod in agreement, a profound sense of gratitude filling your body.

After entering the house, you automatically kick off your shoes and hang your coat, a familiar routine that brings a sense of normalcy to your day. However, something catches your attention, something that doesn't quite fit the usual order of things.

The basement door stands slightly ajar.

Your brow furrows in confusion because you distinctly recall that this door is typically kept shut. In fact, you've walked past it countless times without giving it much thought, almost forgetting the existence of a basement altogether. It's a part of the house that you haven't had the chance to explore since moving in.

A wave of curiosity washes over you, particularly as you recollect the conversation you had with Wooyoung and Yeosang about converting the basement into a movie room. With the day's confusing events and the strange messages gnawing at your nerves, the idea of seeking some comfort becomes rather appealing. The prospect of losing yourself in a movie before dinner sounds like a welcome distraction from the mysteries of the day.

Tentatively, you push the basement door open wider, the hinges creaking softly as if revealing a long forgotten secret. The descent into the basement is dimly lit, and as you take the first step, your heart races with a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

The air grows cooler as you make your way downstairs, and you're struck by the transformation of the basement. The space has been meticulously converted into a cosy movie room, complete with plush bean bags, cushions, and a projection screen that spans one of the walls. The soft, warm glow of fairy lights traces the contours of the room, casting a magical ambiance that feels like a comforting embrace. The aroma of freshly popped popcorn hung in the air, adding an inviting touch to the atmosphere.

Strolling through the room, your eyes take in every detail of its inviting setup. In the midst of the warm ambiance, you spot Wooyoung. He is lounging on a sofa, his back turned towards you, his gaze seemingly lost in deep contemplation. Approaching him, you can’t help but notice that the usual playfulness that usually defines him has been somewhat subdued. It is a stark contrast to the vibrant, charismatic Wooyoung you had grown accustomed to.

A soft, genuine smile graces your lips as you greet him, your voice carrying a soothing undertone that seemed to resonate with the room's tranquillity. "Hey, Wooyoung."

He turns to look at you, slightly surprised by your presence, yet his smile is warm but tinged with a hint of melancholy.

"Hey muffin," he replies, his eyes holding a depth you have not seen before.

Taking a seat beside him, you turn to face him, “How has your day been?” You attempt to strike up a conversation, excitement evident in your tone. You haven't had much alone time with Wooyoung, you are excited for this time together.your concern evident in your eyes.

“It was fine,” he replies, his smile not reaching his eyes, like it usually does.

"Is something bothering you?" you ask, your voice filled with genuine worry. "You've seemed a bit different lately."

Sinking into the plush couch in the dimly lit movie room, a strange sense of unease washes over you. It's as if the comforting embrace of the room has given way to an eerie feeling of vulnerability. The malicious messages you have been receiving, the slightly ajar basement door, and now this unsettling thought creep into your mind, and you can't help but feel a wave of fear.

Suddenly, your thoughts become a turbulent whirlwind, and a nagging doubt begins to gnaw at you. Could it be that Wooyoung, the one you had grown so close to, no longer has the same feelings for you? The idea takes root in your mind, and irrational fears start to twist your perception of reality.

You remember the somewhat subdued demeanour he displayed earlier in the kitchen. Your mind starts to interpret it as a sign of detachment, as though he's pulling away.

The warmth of the movie room, once so comforting, now feels like a suffocating cocoon of uncertainty. Your heart races, and a lump forms in your throat. What if it was all a mistake? What if your connection with Wooyoung was just a fleeting moment, destined to fade away?

In the dim light, your mind conjures up all sorts of scenarios, each one more distressing than the last. You want to shake off these irrational fears, to find solace in the familiar sanctuary of the movie room, but the grip of anxiety is relentless.

Wooyoung cuts off your thoughts by sighing softly, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting yours and it seems as if he was reading your mind. "I still really like you, ____," he admits, his voice laced with vulnerability. "But... I'm a little scared."

His confession takes you by surprise, and you search his eyes for an explanation. "Scared? Of what?"

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, a habit of his when he is unsure of how to express himself. "I've always been flirty, you know? It's just who I am. But I've never felt this strongly about someone before, and it's... intimidating."

Your heart swells with understanding and compassion. Reaching out, you gently place your hand on his. "Wooyoung, you don't need to be afraid of your feelings. It's okay to care deeply about someone."

He seems relieved by your understanding but presses on. "I'm also afraid that you might see me as a playboy, or someone who's not interested in something serious because of how I act."

Shaking your head, you offered reassurance. "I don't see you that way, Wooyoung. People are complex. Your playful side doesn't define your capacity for something real and meaningful."

Wooyoung smiles tentatively, grateful for your words. "And there's something else," he admits, his voice softer. "Back in high school, I didn't talk to you much. I worry that you don't like me as much as the others because of that."

You let out a sigh, understanding his insecurity. "Wooyoung, it's not a competition. I care about all of you equally, and I have precious memories with each of you. High school was a long time ago, and people change. You've shown me a different side of you, and I appreciate it."

Wooyoung's smile grew wider, a mixture of relief and gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you, muffin," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I needed to hear that."

Giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, you smile back at him.

"Anytime, Wooyoung. We're all here for each other, remember? I’m here for you."

Intertwining your fingers, Wooyoung holds onto your hand gently, the action making your heart race as you share a smile with him. The both of you settle back into the plush cushions, surrounded by the warm embrace of the fairy lights, you knew that this moment was a step towards a deeper understanding and connection.

"I really like you, Wooyoung." The words escape your lips in a whisper, soft and filled with sincerity, and it's as if the world around you holds its breath, waiting for his response. In that moment, everything seems to hang in the balance, your vulnerability exposed in the dimly lit movie room.

For Wooyoung, those words are a revelation, a cascade of emotions that threaten to overwhelm him. His heart flutters, and he feels a warmth spreading from deep within. It's a feeling he's been yearning for, yet never quite dared to voice.

"Thank you for liking me, all of you," you continue, your voice holding a gentle grace that resonates with him. It's a sentiment that he's been unable to express, a gratitude that goes beyond words.

“How can we not?”

Wooyoung hesitates for only a moment, his emotions too strong to contain. In one fluid motion, he pulls you close, enfolding you in a warm, earnest hug. The position is a bit awkward, given that you're both sitting, but at that moment, neither of you cares about comfort or convention.

Your bodies are pressed together, and it feels like an unspoken promise. In the embrace, there's a sense of completeness, of two souls finding solace in each other's presence. Tears well up in Wooyoung's eyes, and he holds you tighter, as if afraid that this beautiful moment might slip away. The dimly lit movie room bears witness to this intimate connection, the air filled with unspoken emotions.

In this tight embrace, you both find comfort, solace, and a shared understanding that goes beyond any uncertainties or fears. It's a simple yet heartfelt affirmation of your feelings for each other, a promise to explore the uncharted territory of your hearts together. The cosy movie room seemed to hold its breath, as if recognizing the significance of this moment.

With a sense of shared understanding and comfort, you and Wooyoung turn your attention to the old projector, both blushing profusely, ready to lose yourselves in the world of cinema. The room, with its warm glow and soft furnishings, felt like a cocoon of safety, shielding you both from the uncertainties of the outside world.

As the movie begins, you couldn't help but steal a glance at Wooyoung. The flickering light of the screen cast a mesmerising glow on his features, highlighting the handsome contours of his face. His eyes sparkled with a quiet intensity, and a soft genuine smile tugged at his lips.

You couldn't help but admire how effortlessly handsome he looked, the warm illumination accentuating every angle of his face. Your gaze falls upon a tiny mole just beneath his eye, a charming imperfection that somehow added to his allure. Another mole adorned his lip, drawing your attention like a magnetic force.

For a moment, an intrusive thought crosses your mind; the idea of kissing that mole on his lip. It was a fleeting fantasy, a tempting daydream that brushed against your consciousness like a gentle breeze. But as quickly as it appeared, you banished the thought, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush at its audacity.

Your gaze lingers on Wooyoung's charming mole beneath his lip, you're drawn into a brief reverie, a fantasy that dances at the edge of your thoughts. However, before you can dismiss the whimsical notion entirely, something unexpected happens.

Wooyoung, ever perceptive, notices your lingering gaze. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes, and he offers a playful, enticing proposition. "You know," he begins, his voice a low, husky whisper that carries a hint of amusement, "if you're thinking about kissing this mole..."

He raises a single finger, gently tracing it over the tiny mole on his lip, his lips curving into a sly, teasing smile. "You're more than welcome to give it a try."

Your heart skips a beat at his audacious invitation. It's a playful dare, a flirtatious challenge that Wooyoung has always been known for. A rush of emotions floods your senses – surprise, anticipation, and a flicker of desire. It's a moment filled with unspoken tension, a playful dance between temptation and restraint.

For a moment, you're left in a tantalising dilemma, caught between the allure of his suggestion and the awareness of your surroundings in the cosy movie room. The glow of the screen casts soft, shifting shadows, creating an atmosphere of intimacy that's hard to resist.

As you steal another glance at Wooyoung's inviting lips, a thousand thoughts race through your mind. It's a choice you have to make, a moment that teeters on the edge of something more profound, all set against the backdrop of a movie playing in the background.

"Dinner's ready!" a voice calls from upstairs, breaking the enchanting moment between you and Wooyoung. Startled by the interruption, you hastily stand up from the couch, your heart still racing from the intense emotions that had been building.

Wooyoung lets out an almost inaudible groan of frustration, clearly annoyed at the timing of the interruption. He rises from the couch as well and follows closely behind you as you ascend the staircase. However, just as you're about to take that final step to exit the basement, Wooyoung gently grabs your waist, his touch both firm and gentle.

Your back is pressed against the wall, the proximity between you and Wooyoung electrifying. He stands on the step just below you, his eyes almost meeting yours, him looking up at you with wide eyes, and you can feel the tension in the air. It's as if the missed opportunity from just seconds ago has come full circle, and now, you both find yourselves on the cliff of something unspoken.

His eyes, filled with a glint of longing and vulnerability, look up at you, and a moment of intense connection passes between you two. It's a gaze that speaks of unspoken desires and a tantalising yearning. Your heart flutters, and you can't help but feel flustered by the close proximity, your thoughts racing with the possibilities of what could happen next.

Wooyoung's expression is one of longing, like a lost puppy seeking comfort and affection. His eyes are filled with an unspoken question, a silent plea for something more. You imagine what it would be like to lean down and capture his lips in a tender kiss, to explore the depths of this uncharted territory that beckons.

But the knowledge that dinner is waiting and the awareness of your surroundings pull you back to reality. The moment remains suspended in time, an unresolved tension that lingers in the air. Wooyoung gazes up at you, the glint in his eyes ignites your imagination, and you can't help but wonder what might happen in a different situation, if he was looking up at you in a different situation.

"The offer is always open," Wooyoung murmurs, his voice a warm invitation as he gently pulls you closer, your lips nearly touching in a tantalising promise of a kiss. His breath caresses your lips, and the world around you seems to fade into the background.

"My lips are yours," he whispers, his words a sweet promise that lingers in the air. The moment is charged with desire, and you can feel your heart racing as you lean in, ready to close the distance and savour the taste of his lips.

But just as your lips are about to meet in a gentle kiss, Wooyoung moves away, leaving you breathless and wanting. He looks at you, his eyes roaming over your flustered state, a smug sense of pride blossoming within him as he senses the desire that courses through your veins.

With a sly and teasing smile, he turns away and heads to the kitchen for dinner, leaving you standing there, your heart still pounding, and aching for the taste of what could have been. The promise of that kiss lingers in the air, a tantalising reminder of the unspoken desires that simmer between you and Wooyoung, just waiting for the right moment to ignite.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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