#'Memories of me— More false memories of me will just make his feelings for **** even stronger than before.' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ceilidho · 8 days

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 11)

first chapter >> last chapter

Your heart could very well have stopped beating and you’d be none the wiser.

By now, you’ve experienced fear in all its varietals. The stomach churning and the latent, the languid; the swift moving silverfish slipping out of your grasp. The monstrous rising beast of it the day you turned around to find the master of the house turning the lock on the door and trapping you in with him. Then the delayed panic in the aftermath of bringing the bust down over his head and hearing his skull crack under its weight, the blood pooling around his body, almost aureole-like. Pondering the miraculous like, well, isn’t that just the devil of it. A halo for a man intent on your ruin.

The fear washing over you now is entirely new though. Like a rapid exhalation. Of course you were right all along . Right to expect the devil showing up on your doorstep. The weeks of silence had imbued you with a sense of confidence. An arrogant, undeserved confidence that whispered in your ear to let your guard down.

But you know now that the world is not large enough to hide in. It is a wasteland of false prophets and false directions. There are no second chances.

The only consolation is the silence from the man behind the counter as he studies the warrant. You imagine him standing there giving it a good once over, his face maybe scrunching up as it calls to mind the woman that just walked through his door. You wonder if they thought to add a sketch of your likeness, whether there’ll be a woman on the warrant that looks an awful lot like you.

You stay put behind the shelf though, not risking so much as a peep.

“Any information you might have would be much obliged,” Graves says, trying to coax an answer out.

After a few more seconds, the shop attendant answers with a rueful, “Can’t say I have, sir. You want me to leave this with the sheriff?”

Graves breathes out through his nose in frustration. “Now, are you positive about that? Take a closer look—I don’t mind waitin’ a bit longer for you to sift through your memories. I’m sure a town as big as this must get passersby from time to time.”

“No. I’m sorry, sir, but I’m certain. Never seen a woman fitting this description or name. Couldn’t even tell you the last time we had a stranger come through town and stay longer than a day.”

“I see.” It’s hard to tell whether Graves takes him at his word or not. The aura of menace that the man exudes suggests that anything said to him might rouse his suspicions. That they’ve already been roused, in fact. It makes even you second guess the man behind the counter, wondering if perhaps he knows and simply stays his tongue.

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Still want me to pass this along to the sheriff?”

The floorboards creak under his feet when Graves takes a step back. “If you don’t mind. Been having the darndest time tryin’ to track down the man and, frankly, I’ve got other obligations. I do appreciate your time though.”

You stay hidden behind the shelf, listening to the sound of the spurs on his boots rattling as he leaves. The chime on the door jingles when it slams shut. You flinch at the sound. For a minute after his departure, you wonder if the door will burst back open and he’ll come crashing in, heading straight for the back to haul you out by your hair.

A minute passes and nothing happens. The floor beneath you still feels like it might give out at any moment.

When you take your first step, the nausea comes rushing up.

“Mrs. Price,” the shop attendant says, perking up at the sight of you coming out from behind the shelf. “I forgot you were still here.”

You feel like an automaton or a ball-jointed doll, your movements stiff as you approach him. Morbidly curious as to what you’ll see on the warrant spread out on the counter separating the two of you. When you look down, your breath comes shuddering out.

The sketch on the paper does bear a passing resemblance to you, but only if you squint. Nothing that anyone could point to and claim with certainty that it depicts you. Underneath the sketch, you balk when you see your real name. It’s jarring to even look at. Though you’ve gone most of your life answering to it, the past few weeks have disabused you of any connection to it. Now, you feel permeable, malleable—a substance that has been reshaped into something new. That girl on the warrant is gone now. Done and dusted. So detached from memory that even the sketch of her depicts someone else, proves false.

Still, you’re shaken by how close he’d gotten. Supposing Graves had come in while you’d been within sight. Supposing he’d looked you in the eye and asked you directly, and you’d stuttered under his sharklike gaze and drawn further scrutiny. You almost can’t believe how close it’d grazed you. The sharp edge of fate like a blade now sheathed again.

“Would you mind taking this to the sheriff?” he asks, not realizing the gift he’s given you. “I’m a bit tied up minding the shop.”

You nod wordlessly and take the folded up warrant from him.

It burns red hot in your hands when you step outside. You glance around nervously, unsure as to whether Graves had stuck around to question more people. You wouldn’t be surprised if he were still within earshot.

You waver in the street with the folded piece of paper tucked in your hands. A horse pulling along a cart laden with firewood creaks as it passes, rousing you from the trance you’d fallen into. You flinch, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. It’s blinding suddenly. A clear sky, the clouds long since taken away by the wind.

John could be anywhere at this time of day. Despite the fear curdling in your belly, you can’t help the knee jerk reaction to go to him. That’s precisely what you don’t want to do though. You don’t want to be around the county sheriff on the day a bounty hunter came into town looking for you.

A crow sitting on the roof of a building across the street caws and flaps its wings, taking off into the sky.

You want to be anywhere but in town waiting anxiously for John to come find you. You don’t want to lay eyes on him and see that he’s found you out. The thought of John finding out about the man you killed back east is beyond contemplation. It nearly has you keeling over in the middle of the street. You can hardly bear the thought. How could you bear to live a moment beyond that, withering under his disapproval? His contempt?

You don’t think you can.

Every shadow fills you with dread. A barmaid comes out to toss a bucket of dirty water in the alley and you flinch like you’ve been caught. You keep your head down as you walk, eyes straight on the ground. Someone calls out your fake name and you ignore them.

Your instinct, as usual, is to run. Abscond from the scene of the crime. Even if the thought hurts. Even though you’d let yourself begin to hope that the times of trouble had passed you by. That perhaps you could’ve made a home out here in the middle of nowhere. You should have known that those dreams were just that. You should have known better than to want. These days, it is dangerous to long for anything.

It’s better if you fade from memory like a bad dream, you think when you spot Buttercup fixed to the post outside the sheriff’s office. Better if they think of you with a bad taste in their mouth and nothing more. A girl that came and stole their sheriff’s heart and his horse and then vanished into the night.

When one of her black eyes fixes on you, you still in your advance. A horse can’t possibly read your intentions, but you feel like she does somehow. Like she knows you intend to take her and flee. She shifts, hooves coming up and back down, and you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth suddenly, nerves taking on. You won’t let yourself be ruled by them though. There are bigger things to fear.

“Come on, Buttercup,” you whisper, hesitating before smoothing your hand down her nose. You flinch when she nickers. “I just—I need you to help me, okay?”

It’s an outrageously bad idea. Even to you that’s obvious. You don’t have nearly enough experience riding solo or even with John trailing behind you on another horse to help offer correction if you falter on your own. You’re blinded by fear though, practically shaking as you undo Buttercup’s lead from the post outside the sheriff’s office.

You’re clumsy trying to hoist yourself up onto her without John to boost you up and hold you steady. It takes a couple of tries before you manage to swing your leg over, and you curse under your breath when your dress bunches up around your waist, exposing the bare flesh of your legs. There aren’t many people roaming the street, fortunately for you.

Buttercup resists at first when you tug lightly on the reins to guide her away. She stomps her foot when you try again, giving a light whinny. Panic seizes you, a coil in your belly. You’ve only ever ridden her before with John at your side; you wonder if she’ll even listen to you in his absence or if even she can tell you’re about to do something foolish and wants nothing to do with it.

“Please, girl,” you beg. “I promise—I’ll figure out some way to get you back.”

On the third attempt, she finally listens. The way she abruptly breaks into a fast trot nearly sends you toppling over. You catch yourself by clutching the horn, tight enough that your knuckles ache. Your forehead breaks out in a nervous sweat. Buttercup covers ground fast, and without John sitting behind you like a silent sentinel, you feel control slip out of your slippery hands, clammy with sweat too.

“Whoa, girl,” you breathe, trying to calm her by stroking a hand down her neck.

It does precious little to calm her down. You remember something John once said about animals smelling fear. They know it like your name.

You lose control of her fast. Almost in the blink of an eye, you go from steering Buttercup towards John’s house to holding on for dear life. Your body rocks with hers and you’re forced to tighten your thighs around her midsection when she breaks into a gallop, your hands still clinging tight to the reins. Her hooves kick up dust and dirt in her haste, sending it flying behind you.

“Slow down!” you shout, but the words are swept away by the wind, already behind you.

Not once have you ever ridden a horse at this speed. Your direction seems like more of a suggestion to Buttercup, and not one she’s inclined to take. The town rapidly vanishes behind you, the vegetation sparse for the first few hundred yards, arid scrubland scorched by the sun and fed off of by the horses and mules coming in and out of town. The sun beats down hot on your head, no hat to shield you from the heat.

You can’t imagine you would’ve been able to hold it down though, you think wildly, mind still in a flurry of panic. It would’ve flown right off ages before.

Your breath comes out in hitched pants as you clutch with all your might to the horn of the saddle, your hands soon transferring to her mane for better purchase. Buttercup moves like a rogue wave beneath you, like something sailors only speak about in hushed whispers. She takes a wide arc around John’s property, heading towards the mountains instead, and no amount of trying to steer her with your legs seems to work.

Your head whips back to watch the house pass, the dark shape of it sailing past you, and it nearly causes you to lose your balance. Looking back in front of you only makes it worse. Panic courses through you when you stare ahead only for the world in front of you to spin. Bile creeps up your throat. You swallow it back, but only just.

The half-formulated plan you’d had in mind is long gone. All you can focus on now is remaining astride the horse beating dirt under you. Any thought of bringing her to a halt dissipates. Even the thought of escape evaporates into thin air.

Only when you feel Buttercup slow to a trot do you peel open your eyes. The breath you let out as you look around is short, panic still churning in your guts.

Over the weeks since John married you and took you home, he’s taken you through the mountains a fair few times, familiarizing you with the land to the best of his abilities in such a short amount of time. But the wilderness stretches far and the terrain beyond John’s homestead is rough, treacherous.

When you look around, you realize that you don’t recognize this part of the mountainside.

The trail Buttercup takes you down is cut haphazard into the landscape—a crude, handmade path, not one seared into the ground from frequent travel. It feels distinctly wilder than where you’ve been before. Your head swivels around as you try to look for something that might jog your memory. The striated mountainside tells you nothing. The trees out this deep into the mountains are thicker and older, gnarled root systems bursting up from the earth and coiling around the nearby rocks like snakes winding around their prey.

You sit up a bit straighter, still shaking when you rub your hand down Buttercup’s neck. “You know where we are, girl?”

She puffs out a breath.

That tells you nothing, but she keeps going down the same path deeper into the woods. No amount of squeezing your thighs or patting her neck gets her to stop. You should be thankful that she’s at least no longer sprinting, that you can actually sit up and catch your breath now, but the fear from earlier is but a paltry shadow compared to that which is brewing in you now.

Every crick and snapping twig makes your head spin round. You stare intensely past the treeline, searching for the barest hint of motion. You don’t know much about these parts, but you know that this is no place for a woman by her lonesome. Even a man on his own out here might feel jumpy. This far out of the way, only cougars and bears take refuge, and the odd band of outlaws making camp for the night and taking advantage of the relative isolation this far out west.

“Come on, girl, we can’t be out here,” you whisper, leaning closer to Buttercup to hopefully muffle your voice. Even as low as you speak, it still seems to echo.

You don’t know where you’re meant to go though. In the flurry of panic that had come over you at Graves’ arrival, you’d bolted without thought. Without a compass or map, you’re as good as lost in the unsettled land deep in the mountains.

As that reality dawns on you, you realize that you haven’t had a drink of water in quite some time.

An hour must pass with Buttercup stubbornly refusing to listen to your commands to turn back. Maybe longer. She resists even when you pull on the reins. In truth, you don’t blame her. Your commands come feeble, no strength behind them. The fear of being bucked off her back makes you soft. John would be gruff, unyielding—you can’t imagine him giving into fear.

That somehow upsets you even more. You can’t help but wish more than anything that he were here with you.

The temperature drops as the sun begins to set. Without the sun beating down on you, you shiver in the cold air. There’s nothing to keep you warm other than the clothes on your back. Your lips smack when you part them, parched after hours without water. You haven’t stumbled across a river or stream in the hours since starting down this path.

Then, from behind you, you hear it.

The name that isn’t yours. You don’t catch it at first until it comes again, louder this time. When you look over your shoulder and down the path behind you, John’s furious face stares back at you, his lips worked into a flat line.

The way you gasp must spook Buttercup, because she abruptly breaks into a gallop, forcing you to hunker down and hold on. You want desperately to look back, torn between relief and distress, but you stare ahead instead.

The black horse he rides gains on you fast, legs pumping beneath its massive body. It’s not a horse you’ve seen before. Maybe borrowed in his haste to chase after you. You don’t let yourself digest that thought though, too concerned with remaining astride.

Despite its size, it collapses the distance between you two quickly, nearly on you now. Instinct has you leaning into Buttercup, trying to get as low as possible and let the air glide around you. Her gallop quickens into a sprint. You’re just holding on now, facing straight ahead, no chance of being more than a passenger on this trip.

John shouts at you from your rear to bring Buttercup to a stop. You squeeze your lips together instead of shouting back that you can’t. If you open your mouth, you think your stomach will come straight out.

Your body jostles around on top of your horse, on the verge of slipping off with every passing second. When she takes a turn too quickly down a trail leading up into the mountains and you slide a bit to one side on the saddle, only your foot in the stirrup catching you, your heart stops. Fear is ice inverted; poured over you. It drenches you in another layer of sweat that dries rapidly in the air whipping around you.

Hot and cold. The ground seems to come towards you every time Buttercup’s legs kick up. Always on the verge of falling and breaking every bone in your body. You suck your tongue to the roof of your mouth so it doesn’t get caught between your clacking teeth and bitten right off.

“Pull up on the reins!” John roars over the cacophony of stomping hooves.

A glance to your right finds him close enough to graze with your fingertips. Your heart jumps in your chest.

“Pull up!” he shouts again, but all you can do is stare uncomprehendingly.

You don’t know if he can see the terror in your eyes. It must be splayed clean across your face. He has to see the way his words mean nothing to you. Your panic effaces any meaning; all you hear is noise and anger pouring from his mouth, and trampled dirt and labored breath.

When his horse pulls up alongside yours, he gets close enough to lean over and snatch the reins out of your hands. He pulls firm, tugging Buttercup’s head back until she almost rears up and you scream, hands fisting in her mane.

Your body lurches forward when she comes back down, slumped over the saddle horn. It digs hard into your stomach. There’ll be a bruise there come morning, but nothing like the bruises that’ll bloom between your thighs. Even now the ache radiates down your body. You look up at the sound of John’s breath panting out like a bull, and he glares down at you with undisguised fury, the angriest you’ve ever seen him.

“What in the blazes were you thinkin’?” he booms. Even the horse he sits astride shakes its head at the sound. “There’s nothing out here but outlaws and predators!”

The hand fisted in Buttercup’s reins pulls her closer, and he guides both horses into a slow trot and then to a stop. You can feel the way Buttercup’s ribs expand and contract under your legs.

“Stop it— don’t touch me!” you snap when he reaches for you, smacking his hand away.

“Darlin’, if you get off that damned horse—” John warns, but you’re already swinging your leg over the saddle as the words come out of his mouth.

You almost trip over the stirrup when you slide off Buttercup’s back and take off on foot. You fist the skirt of your dress in both hands to lift it as you run, letting it swish around you with the force of your strides. A curse and grunt come from back behind you. The sound of John’s boots hitting the dirt is loud, and when he chases after you, his boots pound into the earth.

It’s a desperate last move, but all you can think is that you’d rather be anywhere else but in his arms. You’d rather take your chances with the wolves and bears in the woods, or with the bandits and brigands on the trails leading to the next town.

You barely make it past the next tree before he barrels into you and takes you both to the ground, the world spinning as you fall down. He angles his body to take the brunt of the impact, but you still cry out when your hip hits the ground hard. The way he pulls you into his chest just barely keeps your head from slamming into a rock.

“Goddamn it, woman,” John spits. “Where d’ya think you’re even going? There ain’t nowhere to run out here!”

Your head spins. When you open your mouth, all you can taste is rust and salt, sweat dripping off your upper lip. You can feel the heat of his chest against your back and he doesn’t give you a chance to gather your bearings before hauling you to your feet, tugging both of your arms behind your back.

“Let me go!” you scream, trying to wrestle out of his hold to no avail.

You know he doesn’t understand, but you can’t help the way you try to fight your way out of his hold. There’s no explanation that’ll make sense to him other than the truth, which you clamp tight in your chest. There's no telling if he already knows, if maybe Graves finally tracked him down or if someone else brought their suspicions to his attention, but you won't go spilling the truth yourself.

He’s a solid mass behind you, breath labored from hours spent tracking you. You wonder if he noticed mere moments after you took Buttercup and left or whether he came back to the sheriff’s office only to find the two of you gone.

John holds your wrists in one big hand at the small of your back and gives you a mean shake. “I don’t know what’s got you so riled up, but you better fix this attitude of yours and explain yourself before we get home or so help me God, I’ll take my belt to your ass.”

The mention of him belting your backside makes your hands go clammy, but you must have abandoned your common sense a mile back because your mouth keeps running. “I’ll gut you like a pig if you touch a hair on my head!”

“We’ll just see about that,” he grunts, and you can hear the raw edged smirk in his voice and the anger behind it.

When he leads you stumbling towards the horses waiting in the middle of the trail, you realize that capture had always been an inevitability in your mind. Maybe it even comes as a relief to know that the jig is up.

You just hadn’t realized that it would be someone else hauling you back by your hair.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #price x you #price x reader #john price x reader #price/reader #john price/reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you

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zanarkandskylines · 19 days

Note

Hiii omg I love your writings so much!!

May i request texting katsuki while reader is drunk in a bar (maybe bc reader just broke up with her previous boyfriend or sth. It’s up to you but please make it spicy 🔥) (also 18+ please 🥹)

ohhhh the things swirling in my head about this!!! thank you for the request nonnie & hope it delivers! 💜

on the rocks

『 ♡ 』 k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ pro-hero au | age 24 | friends to fwb ꒱ ⇢ your week couldn’t get any worse. between a screw up at work and getting dumped out of the blue, you needed to desperately let off some steam. thank goodness the girls were more than happy to take you out for the night in the city and spoil you with a good time. everything’s fine until you receive a text that spirals into an unpredicted hookup.

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ 18+ MDNI mentions of alcohol, mild/implied smut, suggestive texting, friends to friends with benefits, heavy flirting, sexually comfortable reader, reader went through a break-up, soft bakugo, fluffy ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; ~2.6k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

The bartender hands you the drink you ordered, nodding a thanks when you smile at her. You’re not drunk, per se, but you’re definitely buzzed - that warm and fuzzy feeling dancing through your veins, letting you relax for the first time all week. Tonight's goal was to think about absolutely nothing, to let go of all the shit weighing on your shoulders. Even if it's just for one night, anything to shake away the pain you've been carrying.

But the alcohol seems to be betraying you, forcibly shoving those thoughts to the forefront of your mind instead of burying them.

Memories of your ex begin to haunt you as your mind wanders aimlessly, the dam bursting that was keeping it all at bay. You try and shake your head to rid yourself of the feelings, but they just wouldn’t go away.

God, fuck him and every false promise he made to you.

Some people would consider three months a short amount of time, but to you, it felt like an eternity. He seemed so sweet, caring and kind when you first met, but once he forcibly ripped off your rose-colored glasses? He was nothing but a walking pile of shit.

Suddenly, your phone dings on the bar, lighting up to show a text message notification.

'Who the fuck is texting me so late?'

You blink a few times, re-reading the contact name before it registers: Katsuki Bakugo.

That's rather...odd. He's notorious for going to bed by 9pm - it’s almost midnight. You two were friends, sure, but never the 'text you in the middle of the night' type of friends. Curious to know what he wanted, you open the text to reveal nothing but a picture. When you squint through your hazy vision, you realize just what you're looking at.

It's a picture of Bakugo from the neck down, laying on his bed in nothing but grey sweats that are tugged down and nestled at the bottom of his hip bones. The pose accentuates the delicious deep V below his abs and shows the blonde trail disappearing underneath the hem of his sweatpants. The shadows trace each well-earned muscle, perfectly outlining them in the dim light of his bedroom.

Was this meant for you? Did he send it to you by accident? Your mind goes blank, stopping your previous train of thought about your stupid ex.

…did he send it to you on purpose? Your core pulses at the thought, causing you to cross your legs defensively.

Right on queue, another text pops up, your phone vibrating in your hands.

[katsuki] fuck, sorry. that was an accident

That was a bold face fucking lie, and you knew it. Bakugo's not that stupid to send the wrong text by mistake, especially a selfie. There's no way in hell he would even take a picture like that for someone unless he wanted it to be seen.

Liquid courage does you a favor when you reply, loosely teasing him about it.

[you] damn, katsuki. who's the lucky girl?

You don't notice Mina approaching you with how intently you're staring at your phone screen, startling you when she taps your shoulder.

"What are ya doing over here?! Come dance with us!" she pleads, pulling on your arm. She notices how you're clutching your phone like a lifeline and the coral tint on your cheeks. She quirks an eyebrow at you. "Who are you texting?"

Oh god, find a lie - fast! She'll see right through your facade if you don't.

"No one, just a spam text."

Mina stares at you - shit, she knows you're lying.

"You're a shit liar, babe. Who is it?"

"I got a random text from Katsuki," you admit, the flush in your cheeks deepening at his name. Are you into him, or is it the alcohol in your system? It's no secret that he's attractive, he's always been effortlessly handsome. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't checked him out a few times, but never acted on it. The two of you were friends and you’d assumed he didn't think much else of you.

Mina grabs the phone from your hands, entering in your passcode (how did she know it?!) and reading the texts. Her eyes blow open, pinching the screen to zoom in on the photo. You scramble to grab the phone back to quit her oogling as she's squealing with glee.

"Holy shit!" she yells. "Accident my ass, Blasty. Damn, that's hot."

"Mina! Keep your voice down," you beg, locking the screen to prevent anyone else from seeing.

"No one is listening over this music," she squawks, punching you lightly in the arm. "Come back to us soon you minx!"

And with that, she leaves you at the bar, returning to the dance circle with the rest of your girlfriends. Your phone vibrates a few more times in your hand and recaptures your attention.

[katsuki] thought you'd like a distraction [katsuki] shit, if this is weird, just tell me and i'll fuck off [katsuki] i should've just asked instead

So it was on purpose. You swallow hard as you shakily type out your reply, trying to keep your cool.

[you] it's not weird, what made you think of me? [katsuki] mina wouldn't shut the fuck up about you earlier. sent me pictures of you in the dress you have on, couldn't get it outta my head

When the fuck did Mina do that?! You had thought she was taking pictures of herself earlier at your apartment. That sneaky bitch!

[you] goddammit mina, i'm sorry about her. why would she send them to you?

You see the typing indicator pop up and disappear a few times before his response arrives.

[katsuki] you know how she is, playing matchmaker and shit with everybody [katsuki] honestly? i'm not mad about it [you] oh? [you] so that's why you sent it to me. hell of a pickup line kats [katsuki] fuck off [katsuki] i can't deny that you're gorgeous [you] yeah? feelings mutual

Your face is burning hot, sitting at the bar in disbelief that Bakugo's flirting with you. And it was all because he was infatuated with what you're wearing? He couldn't get it out of his head?

You're still debating on whether you want to yell at or thank Mina for igniting this fire. [katsuki] where are you right now? [you] sitting at the bar, some club in the city

Another picture is delivered to you on screen and has your jaw dropping to the floor.

The picture is closer to his face this time, cut off at his cheekbones and barely illuminated as Bakugo's fingers are parted over his mouth. His tongue is lazily hanging above his bottom lip with a string of salvia attached to one of his fingers.

Your legs twitch as you bite your lip, imagining his face slotted between your thighs.

[you] holy shit, katsuki...fuck [katsuki] find a bathroom or some dark corner [katsuki] there's more where that came from. just say the word, princess

The pet name is doing things to you that you didn't think was possible. Your overloaded with a sudden rush of arousal, heat twisting in your belly at his promise. Grabbing your bag from the chair, you bolt to the nearest bathroom and lock the door behind you. Luckily, this club's on the nicer side, the bathroom not being as scummy as you thought it would be. You set your things on the counter and grab your phone, turning the camera on and pointing it in the mirror.

If that's how he wanted to play? You could play right back.

[you] that deserves a reward

The photo attached shows your breast pushed closed together, daring to spill out of the top of your dress and wearing the poutiest lip you could muster.

Bakugo’s response is immediate.

[katsuki] goddamn, your tits look amazing in that dress [you] would you believe me if i said they look better out of it?

You turn the camera back on and click the record button, sensually slipping the top of your dress down and letting your breasts loosely lay over the bust. Your nipples are pebbled from the rousing desire flowing through you, making them standing perfectly at attention. You give the camera a wink and squeeze one of your breasts playfully. Once you're happy with the video, you send it with no hesitation and readjust your dress. [katsuki] holy fuck [katsuki] you alone? That's not the response you expected, but you roll with it. [you] yeah, one person bathroom

- Incoming Call: Katsuki Bakugo -

You stare at the contact screen for a few seconds before picking up.

"Hey Kat," you greet, nervousness wracking your body, the thrill of the situation making your heart flutter.

"I wanted 'ta hear your voice instead," Bakugo groans, heavy breaths following his words. "I never thought you'd...want to do this with me."

You can't help but laugh under your breath. "Never thought you wanted to, either."

You're thankful that your not drunk off your ass after all - you want to remember this. You're tipsy, but coherent.

And turned on to high heaven.

Bakugo breaks the silence before you cut him off. "I know you're fresh outta-"

"Katsuki, he's not worth mentioning. I'm focused on you right now."

"Yeah? Tell me more."

"I'd love to see what you're hiding under those sweats, Dynamight. I'm practically a puddle just thinking about it. How do you think my lips would look wrapped around you?"

You can hear Bakugo exhale into the phone and groan. He tries to hide it, but fails miserably.

"Cat got your tongue, huh? Too forward?"

"N-no. It's fuckin' hot. Shit," he whispers with baited breath. "God, what club are you at again?"

"The one near Shibuya station. Crystal Crown, I think. Why?"

There's a pause before you hear various clicks and a beep or two from his side before he answers.

"Changed my mind, this ain't happenin' over the phone the first time. You're 15 minutes from my place, I'm comin' to get ya."

You can feel your panties soak from your excitement, clenching at the thought of him just ravaging you in his car and not being able to make it back to his apartment before touching you like a man starved.

"Coming to sweep me off my feet or to fuck my brains out?" The words spill from your lips before you can stop them, but you don’t regret it when you hear Bakugo moan in response - loudly.

"Fuckin’ - have you been stockpilin’ this shit ‘ta say to me?" He laughs. “You’re gonna kill me before I leave the damn apartment.”

“Didn’t think you’d be so easy to play with,” you joke playfully, twirling a piece of your hair in your fingers. “Better get here before I change my mind, find some other rebound in this stupid club.”

“I’ll be your fuckin’ rebound any day of the week, sweetheart. Ain’t no guy in that building better than me.”

His confidence makes it difficult to bite back the moan in your throat.

“Guess you need to prove it. Get your ass over here, I’ll be out front. You better be wearing those sweats.”

You’re about to hang up when you hear Bakugo say something quietly, too muted for you to make out right away.

“Kats?”

He clears his throat before repeating himself, his voice soft and low. “You sure y’want this? I don’t wanna fuck anythin’ up or whatever.”

“You won’t fuck anything up, nothing wrong with friends fucking with no strings attached. I already flashed my tits at you, no turning back now.”

You subtly hear him let go of the breath he was holding and a hollow chuckle, sounding relieved at your answer.

“Good. See ya soon.”

The line ends with a click, leaving you with your thoughts while staring in the bathroom mirror. You didn’t realize how badly you’ve been shaking until you attempt to walk, unexpectedly stumbling like a baby deer on your heels. Once you gather yourself, you exit the bathroom and hurry over to the dance floor. Mina spots you, rolling her eyes and placing her hands on her hips when you approach the group.

“Where the hell have you been?!” She shouts over the music. “I was starting to think you died in there.”

“I’m heading home,” you say while waving your hand, brushing away her worries.

“Oh…oh my god. Is Bakugo coming to get you?!”

“Mina!”

Jiro and Uraraka turn in your direction, yelling in unison. “Bakugo?!?!”

You palm your face, desperately attempting to hide your flared cheeks as the girls squeal and cheer for you.

“Stop it! We’re still just friends!”

Mina clicks her tongue. “Uh-huh. That’s what I said about Kiri a year ago, and now look at us!”

“You gotta let us know how it goes,” Uraraka winks, elbowing you in the rib. "Rumor has it he lives up to his hero name in bed."

Before the interrogation continues, you back away from the group with a smile and turn for the entrance. You slide through the doors and slip out onto the sidewalk and see Bakugo parked out front, smiling as his eyes spot you on the busy street.

Has he ever smiled at you like that before?

He gets out of the car and walks around to greet you.

“Hey Katsu-”

Before you can process what’s happening, Bakugo’s got one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your neck. He gently leans you against the car as he swoops down to place a featherlight kiss to your lips. You squeak before melting into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Sparks are flying through your whole body - a sensation you haven’t felt for a long time. When the two of you part, his eyes are half-lidded, cheeks flushed and lips parted with shallow breaths.

“Ready to go?” He asks, removing the hand from your neck and stroking your cheek with his thumb. Your heart is in your throat, strangling any words you try to say, so instead, you just nod ‘yes.’ Bakugo walks you to the passenger side and opens the door for you, just like any other time you’ve hung out. When he shuts the door and goes to walk to the drivers side, you finally notice he’s wearing the damn grey sweatpants.

The entire drive back to his place, Bakugo’s hand doesn’t leave your thigh. His fingers danced over your skin, playing with the hem of your dress and gingerly squeezing the plush surface every so often. You return the favor, walking your fingers up the inside of his thigh a few times, stopping short of the growing tent in his sweats. Pulling up to his apartment complex seems to take the breath out of both of you. He turns the car off and you sit idly in silence, it's only a minute or two, but feels like a lifetime.

Bakugo gets out first, jogging over to your side to open your door. He takes your hand as you stand, closing the door behind you and swiftly sweeping you off your feet into his arms, bridal style.

"Wow, do all the girls you bring home get this treatment?" you tease, planting a kiss on his warm cheek.

"Never had the pleasure of bringin' a princess home, so no."

That shuts you up and makes you quiver in his hold.

"I'm honored, sir Dynamight. Take me to your castle!" You swoon, dramatically leaning back with a hand over your head.

Bakugo shakes his head and grins, starting to jog through the parking lot and up the stairs with you. You hold onto his shoulders while giggling uncontrollably, ecstatic to see where the night takes you.

One things for certain - you haven't thought about your ex once. And you look forward to keeping it that way.

tags; @slayfics @maddietries

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo smut #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugo #katsuki bakugou x reader #my hero academia smut #☆.rei writes #☆.from the stars

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lizardbraining · 2 months

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Forgive my overindulgence but do you know what this means??? Do you??? Can you even conceive of the potential????

Say Wukong didn’t kill Macaque.

What if he doesn’t know?? What if he just thinks they had their fallout under the mountain, Macaque disappeared for hundreds of years, and when he showed back up again he hated him? What if they never spoke of it, because obviously not even Wukong would forget something as awful as murder-betrayal. What if both their images of each other are twisted, Macaque thinking Wukong is a violent monster who turned on him the second he didn’t serve his purpose and Wukong thinking Macaque is a coward who had one argument and abandoned him for a hundred years, coming back only to start fights and target his student? What if everyone’s perception of Wukong is a little skewed due to some celestial influence? What if the Lady Bone Demon, did a lot more damage than anyone ever knew?

Most importantly, what would they do if they realized they were tricked? If Macaque digs up his unaltered memories and realizes he abandoned his best friend for next to nothing? If Wukong realizes someone made Macaque think he killed him? If they could even make up after centuries of fighting under false memories, or, alternatively, how quickly they reconcile even after so long?

In conclusion, Shadowpeaches is my lifeblood but I stopped doing art because the canon implications of their murder-betrayal relationship made me feel kinda weird but now, with this new headcanon, I suddenly have a lot more material :)

#lmk #lmk headcanon #shadowpeach #ive been awake and chewing doorframes for three days #no really it made me feel so weird that i made dnd characters to project the shadowpeach dynamic on #but now they’re their own characters so IM BACK BABY

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oncomingnight · 10 months

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𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫

ᵀʰⁱˢ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱˢ ᵐᵉᵃⁿᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᶠᵉᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳˢ

You were a prop designer for several well-known shows and movies. This job allows you to meet and speak to multiple actors and actresses, some even award winning. But, on the set of an incredibly advertised and anticipated movie, you formed a friendship with one of the actors.

The producers of the movie were able to snag some of the best musicians for the soundtrack, the most unexpected collabs along with incredible actors in the cast that would most likely cause traffic on the way to the box office.

Ahmed, his name was. You'd always found him immensely attractive and even... alluring. These thoughts of yours were never shared with him because you didn't want to embarrass yourself with the possibility of a one-sided confession.

What you would come to acknowledge was that Ahmed shared your feelings, if not stronger. He was enamored with the passion you had for your craft, speaking of it even outside of work. The absolute care and attentiveness that leaked out of you was enough to make his pupils morph into hearts.

After a long day of filming, he decided to invite you to his room in the Airbnb that all of the film stars were stationed in. You didn't expect to see all of the food he had prepped for you, most were cooked in memory of his homeland. Whilst you spent your unconfirmed 'date-night' laughing and talking about your personal lives, he cut through the conversation and made room for his confession.

"Y/n, by your face when you walked into the room, I know you're confused as to why I did all...this. Well, I find you incredibly pleasant to be around, and I want more of you and of this. Moments where it's just you and me without the bustle of meetings, calls, press tours, fittings. You make me feel as if I'm so much more than what I've imprinted onto the world, so much more than what people judge me for. The thought of you drives me absolutely crazy and to think about the fact that you're not mine drives me even crazier, in an extremely self destructing manner. So, if you'll have me, I'd love to be able to be the one you call 'mine'. Will...you have me?"

Despite being shocked about the feelings you had oh, so, desperately tried to hide from Ahmed being shared, you were able to find your words and stammer a "yes".

After this incident, you could hardly bite back your smile when you saw him around the set. He would follow you around on his breaks as if you had him on an invisible leash. He'd memorize your coffee order from the days you spent together and hand you the caffeine filled cup first thing in the morning.

When the movie had finally been released, the two of you decided to move in together.

This was his idea.

You hardly noticed his obsessive tendencies as he would indulge in them when you had your back turned towards him. But if you did notice, you didn't say anything...I mean, how silly would you look if you accused him of something false? Plus, it felt incredibly reassuring and nice to have someone so willing to love you and protect you under any circumstance.

Like, murder.

When Ahmed was there to witness someone flirting with you, he would dig his nails into his shaking palms with beads of sweat sprouting onto his sun-kissed forehead. Who did they think they were? They seriously thought they were good enough for you? As if you'd stoop so low.

Ahmed would use his reputation as an A-list actor to make sure that person never has the chance to talk to you again. He's got connections that would shock you, but it's all a normal evening stroll to him.

Let's cut to the chase, yeah? You and him have quite the age gap but he doesn't use this as an excuse to degrade you and your intelligence. I can't say the same for some of the press, though. During the press tour, he'd get asked questions about your relationship that were quite insulting.

How convenient is it that right after the interview, the journalist just so happened to lose their job...huh. anyways!

He'd kill for you, alright? He's admitted this to you several times during intimate moments. He's even said this during interviews, just not flat out.

Int: "and your most recent girlfriend, would you like to speak about her?"

Ahmed: " of course I would. I mean, yeah, she's truly amazing, I couldn't believe it when she said yes to being with an old man like me. I'd do anything for her, absolutely anything. We're stuck with each other."

Int: "oh, come on! Your age gap is barely anything, and it sounds like she's got you wrapped around her pinky, huh?"

Ahmed: "Thank you, not many would agree with that, sadly. And, oh yeah, she's got me hooked."

Before you, he never even thought of the word 'marriage'. His past relationships were absolutely nothing compared to you. Your presence practically engulfed him into a warm, tight, quilted hug. He's never going back.

He hopes you haven't noticed his search history for a shiny rock to put on your finger, after all, it's supposed to be a surprise!

In interviews, absolutely nothing can stop Ahmed from speaking about you and how you make him feel. It leaves interviewers questioning their own relationships.

Ahmed regularly goes shopping for gifts to surprise you with, he stores it in his memory what your likes and dislikes are. Do you like sweets? Gold jewelry? Lacey clothing? Silk? Jade jewelry? He'll buy it all.

"and how much is this necklace?"

"1,500."

"Eh, I could do better. Show me another one."

He takes you out to the most expensive and incredibly well renowned restaurants, trips and events. You've given him such an incredible amount of joy that he'd never thought he'd ever feel, but you proved him differently. You deserve to be constantly rewarded and reminded of everything you're worth.

His co-stars and long life friends have noticed the feelings you ignite within him, how he now has an extra pep in his step when he walks onto set. Now, they may be a little overprotective of you as well. Whenever some rando on the internet accuses you of being a golddigger despite you constantly overworking yourself, him and his friends are always the first to defend you. On and off camera.

Ahmed understands that everyone has off days where they don't feel so great, he acknowledges that you'll go through that. But he'll never let you go through it alone. He'll put your favorite movie/show on, stroke your cheek and kiss the side of your head, cook up your favorite meal and station himself by your side with his arms around you.

At times, you'll feel self conscious, having horrible thoughts that Ahmed will leave you when you inevitably age, as older men enjoy younger woman and you have an age gap yourselves.

He tells you that he'll never leave you for doing something that everyone does, it'd be silly and just plain wrong. He's not Leonardo DiCaprio, so don't you worry.

#yandere oc x reader #yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x you #yandere oneshot #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x willing reader #yandere actor #yandere actor x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere fanfiction #yandere fantasy #headcanons #x reader #x yn #yandere movie

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hisui-dreamer · 2 months

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Hihi Rinna! Saw the cool event and I would like to request a bouquet ⁠\⁠(⁠･⁠◡⁠･⁠)⁠/ daffodils, rhododendrons and a few cherry blossoms, please send it to Lilia, Jamil and Jade!

everlasting mementos

Characters: Lilia, Jamil and Jade

Synopsis: you've left twisted wonderland, leaving behind a simple bouquet of flowers for him as a parting gift

Tags: heavy angst (disco wants suffering y'all), no happy endings, bad vibes all around, farewells

Word count: 976

Notes: hooboy this one was depressing ヘ⁠（⁠。⁠□⁠°⁠）⁠ヘ hope you enjoy the pain!!

Masterlist

flowers of choice:

daffodils: please don't forget me

rhododendrons: red ones symbolise tremendous grief

cherry blossoms: scattering, fleeting moments

Lilia casts a spell on your flowers to make them everlasting, keeping them by his bedside table his gaze is always drawn to it every time he walks into his room, and he’s reminded of all the memories you’ve shared together

he’s become used to saying farewells, having gone through the pain of losing his dearest friends and countless comrades in the war

he’s long learned that life will always move on, and whether or not you move along with it isn't a choice you get to choose

tries to act as normal, but everyone can tell he’s not energetic as usual

silver and malleus offer to spend more time with him so he won’t feel too lonely, and sebek even watches his mouth to not accidentally upset him

he’s incredibly grateful to everyone for being so considerate, but there’s no stopping the dull ache in his heart

every time he’s in the kitchen, he hears your panicking voice echoing in his ears, scolding him for another misdemeanour

or your squeals of surprise when he pops down from the ceiling to give you a kiss

you've really left a mark on this old fae...

Lilia tenderly caressed the flowers, tears welled in his eyes, tracing silent paths down his cheeks. He knew his time with you was limited, that you would always go back to your world and never return. He knew that nothing would last forever, but he just hoped he could have spent a little more time without you.

"How foolish am I...," he murmured softly, his voice tinged with sorrow. "To dare to hope for a different ending. One without goodbyes."

Amidst the flickering candlelight, he found himself enveloped in memories of your presence. "The world feels so much dimmer without you," he confessed, his words laden with longing and regret.

Jamil wanted to throw out the flowers but he couldn't bear parting with the last thing you left behind for him

he ends up turning them into pressed flowers, making a tiny pendant with them so he can keep you close always

Jamil, like he's done most of his life, decides to bottle up his feelings and go about his day as usual

but everyone in scarabia can tell he's snappier and a lot more tense than usual

even kalim, who's been trying his best not to upset or trouble jamil

on late nights, when he's all alone with his thoughts, he pulls up your old voice recordings, unable to fight the urge to hear your voice

he replays them tirelessly until every sentence is etched into his memory

the comfort they once provided now only serves to amplify his frustration, a mere reminder of your absence

he had resigned himself to a life in the shadows, but then you came into his life and for the first time in forever he let himself hope for a brighter future but now...

he wants to be mad at you for giving him this false hope, but he can't even stand the thought of being mad at you, he's just mad that he let himself hope again

still, he doesn't regret a single second he spent with you

The sound of your voice from the recording dwindled into the hushed night, and with it, the floodgates of his emotions burst open, and he collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down his face.

"It's not enough," he whispered between sobs, clutching the device tightly in his trembling hands. "Just hearing your voice... it's not enough."

He yearned to see your smile, to feel your warmth beside him once again. "You gave me so much hope," he choked out, his voice breaking with emotion. "That maybe, just maybe, we could have been happy."

Jade keeps the bouquet of flowers you gave him, propagating them so they'll always thrive by his side, making sure to care for them so he'll always have the last gift you give him

each time he tends to them, he talks to them as if they're you, telling them about his day, what shenanigans floyd has gotten into, how well his mushrooms have been growing...

he never leaves without wishing for your happiness, because that thought eases the ache in his heart slightly

on the outside, he acts unaffected and you really wouldn't be able to tell he's upset at all

but floyd and azul can tell, it's clear as day to them just how devastated he is

azul lets him have more free time, cutting his shifts shorter so he can go on hikes or take care of his terrariums, any activities to cheer him up

but even those activities fail to lighten his mood, because he's constantly reminded of his memories with you

him taking care of your wound after you'd tripped and injured your knee, you excited to show him the new mushroom dish you've been working on, the subtle stares and smiles the two of you exchanged at school...

there are traces of you littering every corner of his heart...

As Jade passed by a familiar hiking spot, the very place where countless moments were shared between the two of you, bittersweet memories flooded his mind. He sank to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as he struggled to catch his breath.

How was it possible that you were only in his life for a short period, yet your absence felt unbearable? How had you managed to leave such a profound impact on him, with every little thing now serving as a painful reminder of your absence?

"I just... wish to see you again..." he whispered to the empty trail, his voice choked with sorrow. "What can I do... to make this feeling go away?"

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#✧2k! blossoming bouquets✦#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #lilia vanrouge #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia vanrouge x reader #jamil viper #twisted wonderland jamil #jamil viper x reader #jade leech #twisted wonderland jade #jade leech x reader #✧disco🪆✦

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sunboki · 4 months

Text

⎯ CHRISTMAS BLUES a Hwang Hyunjin fiction

🎄 : Hwang Hyunjin x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, reader is a writer, one bed au, forced proximity au, hyunjin is an artist(not mentioned a ton), coincidences

WORD COUNT. 7.3k words ☆ 40 minute read

WARNINGS. cursing, angst galore, mention of sex (non desc.), breakup, hurt feelings, making up, mentions of getting drunk

AUG'S NOTES. this is a stupidly lovestruck hallmark christmas mindset talking, whatever you read below is definitely not me… definitely. anyway, happy holidays to everyone that celebrates! this has been sitting in my drafts for months now, initially planned to be a smau, then a fic!! hope this fic exceeds your expectations, feel free to leave a reblog or comment of your thoughts!

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. You thought getting a call from Hyunjin was the last thing you needed during the holidays, but when he reminds you of your non-refundable tickets to Paris you had booked seven months prior to your earth-shattering breakup, you realize that his call was the least of your problems.

or alternatively :

Just a week over Christmas with your ex in Paris, what could go wrong?

Every circumstance has a question that goes along with it.

How did I get so lucky? Why did you leave?

As for yours, it’s fairly simple.

Where did we go wrong?

December 18th – Seoul, South Korea.

Holding onto what could’ve been is stupid, you agreed upon that mindset a long time ago. However, the past, Him being the past, lingered around you like the scent of citrus still clinging beneath your fingernails even after washing your hands. Everywhere. He was everywhere. And no matter how hard you tried to erase the memories of what was, they served their memory purpose and disfigured your mind all the same.

And so, you replaced it.

Replaced the hurt, the searing burn, with someone else. Who turned into someone else, and someone else after that till the only thing sufficing any weekly relationship was a no-strings attached notion.

Until you met Seungmin.

He was your vice, the person dragging you out of your self-made hole of false sanctuary and safety. He laid all his flaws on the table, showed himself to you. Seungmin was gentle and kind, he was patient— more patient than anyone else in this world— and loving. Oh so loving.

But behind your undying affection for your boyfriend, he saw something you didn’t. Perhaps in your eyes, perhaps in your soul, bared to him on an onslaught of occasions.

Longing.

He saw longing in your treasured hues, longing for someone that wasn’t him.

Because some scars take longer to fade away, but yours hadn’t even begun to heal. Masked with his many layers of band-aids only to never staunch the cut, the one Hwang Hyunjin left on you.

“Seungmin I’m so sorry—“

“You love him, I know,” He nods his head, a sad, soft smile holding place on his lips.

Tonight was the night he officially talked about it. The unforgivable thought continuing to incessantly plague his mind.

Although, he didn’t regard you sourly for it. That connection you had with Hyunjin was something no other person could return nor deliver, and he had to accept that if he really loved you.

If Seungmin really loved you, he wanted the best for you, even if that meant the best were when you weren’t with him.

You were shocked when he brought up the matter, asked if you really missed him, asked if you still loved him. Yes, you had of course discussed your previous relationship, but never to this extent, never so blatantly.

Though the absolute kindness in both his tone and the way he looked at you, seated at the dinner table, kept you from lying.

It’s not fair. Not fair for Seungmin, your boyfriend, to have to take responsibility for your tormented feelings. But here he is, assuring you nevertheless.

Because he’s known. He knew from the start you weren’t over Hyunjin. Knew that, despite so much ache and anguish he caused, your heart can’t help but beat at his pace, fruitlessly connected.

And he knew in the end things would fall apart just like this, and his spot as a placeholder would fall apart along with it.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.

“He hurt you, but you love Hwang Hyunjin, I know.” He whispers, fingers tightly twined beneath the table. There’s a sort of hiccuping sound bubbling up from your throat. You stave it down.

“I’m sorry.”

He smiles, smiles when you don’t deny it, reaching forward for your trembling hands to take in his own.

“I want you to be happy, Y/N. I’m not the one you’ll be happy with though.”

A soft squeeze before he rises and curves to where you sit, free-flowing tears threatening to cascade past glossy eyes.

Without hesitation you wrap your arms around him in a hug, chest wracking with unfiltered sobs. Guilty. Guilt is devouring your soul. You don’t deserve Seungmin, nor does he deserve to be hurt so cruelly by someone he loves. But here you are, ruining him.

He’d never admit it, but the pain in his eyes—the ones you’ve stared at countless times—will always remain evident. No amount of smiling or laughing can hide that.

Pulling back while your arms stayed hooked upon his shoulders, you savor the kiss he places on your lips, the ones he delicately pressed to each of your wrists.

Sad. It’s a sad kiss. A kiss that causes your entire body to wilt against him, crashing deeper and deeper into his warmth, his comfort. He’s not false, he’s real. A real, unadulterated love you’re undeserving of.

Guilty.

“If you’re happy,” He breathes, leaning in to land gentle pecks all over your face, forehead connecting with your own. “I’ll be okay.”

December 20th – Seoul, South Korea.

Your room is still exactly as it has been. Pillows faced the same way, sheets still tousled and hanging halfway off the bed. Hell, he hasn’t even touched the blinds — staying open throughout countless nights, your perfume lingering.

Like he was afraid his touch would break apart what he had left of you.

He hopes, swallowing down the remainder of wine in his glass, you’ll be able to look back and laugh at what used to be, find the matter childish and ridiculous.

What you used to be.

Lovers.

Not kids anymore, you taught him once before. You also taught him how deep a love could be. There’d always be a space for you here, just as you left it. Although, he doubts you’d come back. In fact, you’ve probably moved on with your life. Found someone else to fill the space he did.

But maybe, if he keeps the room as it was for long enough, your room; if Hyunjin keeps those tiny paper notes you wrote for him long enough, you would come back.

What a lie.

Wishful thinking takes you far then drops you into festering despair over and over, he’s learned this the hard way.

Starting with a text.

He blinked once, then twice, then three times—picking apart his brain in order to recollect anything, any details whatsoever that could decipher this random message on a Monday morning.

Paris.

Paris?

Paris.

It hits him, evidently.

Immediately clutching his head and simultaneously slapping an aghast hand over his mouth, a sensation recognizable as utmost horror obliterates his soul into pieces, quite literally rocking his world.

Months ago, he remembered.

You’d been stupid, you’d been drunk, and impulsively booked the tickets, laughing off the “no refunds” reminder as if nothing would’ve ever happened.

It did though. And now he’s dealing with the karma in return for that idiotic decision. Soon enough you both will.

Non refundable tickets to Paris, two days from now, together.

What were the chances?

Blindly tapping his password into his phone, he (just as blindly) jams his finger to the first caller he sees, who turns out to be Minho, seeming like both a blessing and a curse in unison.

Never before had Hyunjin so clearly lost his mind and control of his words, but there’s always a first time for everything, right?

“Minho, what the hell am I supposed to do? She hates me and the flight is booked two days from now. This is just.. Fuck!” Hyunjin pours, slamming his hands against the steering wheel, burying his head into the leather as if that would magically make his endless desperation disappear.

He didn’t usually curse, so when he did, whatever had happened was serious. He carried his words elegantly, proficiently.

He'd be the last picked candidate for elegance right about now.

“If I were Chan I would’ve said you should still try talking to her about it, but in my opinion that wouldn’t change a thing. So suck it up Hwang, it can’t be that bad.”

Ah. Remind me why I ever decided to call you hoping for advice.

‘Hwang’ was the name his friend had reserved for him, coming from a long line of tissues in the mouth and other ways Minho would pick fun at the blonde. But he was at least trying to help, somewhat.

How he got himself into this situation is honestly laughable, situation being your nasty breakup and a plane to Paris.

Great. Paris is great, right? Wrong.

Because this stupid, stupid trip to Paris isn’t one he’s going on alone to enjoy the sights and delicacies there, it’s one with you, the girl who ripped his heart in half two months ago. The trip you’d planned while you were still head-over-heels, not hating his guts.

Oh, and your tickets were nonrefundable. Couldn’t forget about that part.

“.. What am I gonna do?”

“Suck it up, duh.”

“And please enlighten me on how the hell I'm supposed to ‘suck it up’ in a plane seat right next to her for thirteen hours and spend every day glued to the hip, your honor.”

The mental picture of Minho’s fraud-innocent face through the line grated his nerves like nothing else. Brows lifted, mouth slightly open. He wanted to punch that imaginary face so badly right now.

"Then follow Chan’s tutorial on making it up to your now-ex. You asked me for my opinion, and you got it. Look, all I’m saying is this is a good chance to get some level ground between you two, even if you still fly back hating each other—"

“I don’t hate her,” Hyunjin quickly quips.

Honestly, truthfully, he doesn’t hate you, he can’t hate you and he doubts he ever will. You were the one responsible for years upon years of the best moments of his life, how could he hate you for that?

Although, by the way you looked at him that night, he doubts your response would be the same.

Minho sighs.

"Even better, you could fly back with her hating you slightly less."

For once the snarky man he was spilling his problems to had provided decent reason, it was terrifying.

From a spectators point of view, his utter fit had to be quite a sight. For the record, witnessing thee calm and collected Hwang Hyunjin go insane in his car wasn’t a sight you’d see on a regular day.

But today wasn’t a regular day. Instead, it was the day he found himself trapped in a loophole of love and war with his ex.

What were the chances?

There’s no book that could wholly describe Hyunjin.

Even as a writer yourself, not even Shakespeare could depict him to the full extent. He’s flawless but so flawed, kind and yet malicious in terms of his brilliantly unfair beauty.

Every day you run into Hwang Hyunjin. The first few times, you called it coincidence, told yourself his meeting happened to be at the same time, maybe he was headed to a neighboring coffee shop.

Well, before those few days turned into every day on your commute.

And when a breakup is as nasty as yours was, it’s not too refreshing constantly seeing your ex on the daily afterward.

Today, Hwang Hyunjin is wearing a tan trench coat that reaches down to his knees. He’s wearing the same tennis shoes as always (except his usual camera is absent from the picture), and his hair is pulled up, soft, sandy strands framing either side of his face. He stands on the other side of the crosswalk, occupied with his phone while you internally ridicule him.

Staring daggers into his frame, the frigidly cold beverage in hand doesn’t aid in warming up chilling temperatures burning your fingertips, signs of winter’s impending approach.

He looks up.

You avert your gaze to your shoes. You can feel his eyes on you; feel them traveling over your body, then to your face, boring into your skull. He’s waiting, watching.

And somehow, you know you’ll eventually have to make eye contact. Because on your normal route, your turn left on Harrison street, then right on Fords. He’s there. Unbelievably, wildly, he’s there.

It’s the one factor in your (almost) perfect life without him that makes things hell.

Back then, you were like clockwork. Not a minute going by without someone being awake. You taking a nap after spending two hours searching synonyms on Thesaurus, Hyunjin just waking up, heading out with his signature Canon camera loosely hung around his neck.

Two perfect oppositions leaving their cluttered love scattered all over a cheap apartment.

For Hyunjin, it was the mug you’d gotten him last christmas labeled in bold font: “ART WHORE”, while yours was an equally degrading “SHE WOULD RATHER FUCK THE MEN IN HER BOOKS” sticker print slapped on the back of your laptop.

Little did you know you’d be desperately scraping the sticker off seven months later, that you’d leave your chapter unfinished since breaking up and that he had likely thrown away that mug.

Or maybe not. Maybe he painted over it, scribbled it out and somehow made it look good. Hyunjin has a way of making anything catastrophic look pretty.

You, on the other hand, are an erupting volcano. One that cries its lava onto the earth and doesn’t leave a pretty photograph. One that froths and rumbles, and destroys things as it goes.

Perfect opposites, exactly.

Now for the real question, the monumental “where did we go wrong” part that served as an explanation.

Three little words.

I love you.

You lied.

Those are big words, big words for somebody. Big words for yourself, words you spoke to Hwang Hyunjin, looped in his apartment, making love on the couch.

Big words he didn’t return.

Big words that kept your heart stilled in your chest, left your lips blue, drowned as you collected your discarded clothes off the floor.

And you left.

You didn’t need the awkward silence, the “let me think about it”, the bullshit they spouted Kissing-Booth-style. You needed him, his reassurance when you were your most vulnerable. His three words that told you your three years together weren’t one sided, not wordlessly confessed through actions though too scared to say aloud – a feared incantation.

Words he never said. Because you did love Hwang Hyunjin, so much it consumed you into his favorite muse, him your inspiration. Then came the doubt. The recollection of your favorite, dearest moments. Was it all a lie?

Those hour-long seconds, tangled on his sofa, kept that incessant anxiety alive.

You thought you found the one when your drunk night didn’t turn into an orgasm you can’t remember, but rather being coaxed into a warm shower despite your complaining about your pants being too tight.

Somehow, you can still feel his tender kisses like a ghost of a presence, littering the skin of your shoulder instead of the sloppy alcohol ridden ones you’d known before, and for once you had woken up beside the person responsible — not to a note saying they had to leave early.

He was the one responsible for teaching you how to paint, propping you in his lap, hand guiding your own while tracing careful strokes on the canvas. It was hardly possible sitting on his stool together, though neither of you noticed (nor cared), too busy savoring the intimacy of the moment.

That was Hyunjin. He was the glass of water placed in front of you after one too many at happy hour. He was the relaxing bath when everything hurt, the shoulder to cry on.

But you were mistaken. He wasn’t the one. Seungmin was the one, the one you had left behind only to chase after a toxic remedy.

In fact, Hyunjin never was the one.

And it fucking hurt remembering that.

December 21st - 22nd – Seoul, South Korea.

The last news you’d anticipated slammed into you like a bus.

Cozied up at your desk, a number pops up on your screen, interrupting the one moment of silence you managed to enjoy. Most people didn’t call during your work hours, except Seungmin, who, for the record, called before work.

The number you’d memorized by heart was not normal either.

Him.

“Before you curse at me,” He begins, and your hand hesitantly hovers over the call button, jaw clenched beyond reason, silence shouting loud. No strength in your bones allowed you to reply. Was it fear, hatred? Both most likely.

Taking the time to continue, his silky tone lulls along the line.

“Do you remember the tickets?”

Hatred seemed the dominant factor.

“What are you talking about?” You rhetorically snap, obviously annoyed albeit confused.

Tickets? It’s been three months, why the hell are tickets the first thing he’s mentioning?

He sighs. “The tickets to Paris. You remember, don't you?”

It takes you a moment, then, aha.

How could you forget? The tip of the iceberg of what two naive, lovestruck idiots thought would be forever. Little did they know everything would slip past their fingertips.

”Well um, did you know they’re non-refundable?”

Huh.

“WHAT?!”

You’d just managed to convince yourself free of Hyunjin, but he simply dragged you further into his labyrinth.

Or so you thought.

You had grown since he broke you (with the help of your better-ex, Seungmin). You evolved better (or so you told yourself). So out of the plentiful lessons you’d learned during your reflection, the factor that stuck with you most was that nobody is there to pick up for you. No matter how much you think they will.

You swore yourself into the belief Hyunjin would mend you, but you lived blind to the truth that he was just as broken as you were, a dog chasing its tail.

And so, you dealt with it.

In ways.

Whether that was incessantly talking to yourself, fanatically checking the date, contacting Felix on the verge of tears for him to laugh and then attempt at consoling your doom, or googling the best ways to run away from your predicament, fate had it out for you.

A disgustingly impertinent, unfairly fair fate.

Packing wasn’t all too stressful, unless you count trying on an entire entourage of outfits descending from dinner to snow-attire, then focusing on simple.

And it really shouldn’t have been so awful getting into your car, nonetheless waking up to realize today was the dreaded day, but it was, and you seriously deserved an award for the amount of times you checked your clock.

Although, you at least expected to have a little bit of time before having to face him again. Talking and interacting, not just drilling holes into his head. Little bit of time as in, a few years at least.

You were wrong.

Not the first time that’s happened.

“Hi Hyunjin.”

Answering his awaiting call with unsteady pitch, your eyes immediately gravitate to the blond-haired man. Taller in stature, leaning against a nearby pillar by your gate, staring directly at you.

Never had it felt so terrifying.

“Hey.”

You hesitate, never breaking eye contact with the man you’re speaking to a few meters away.

“Are we…Are we doing this again?”

He’s solemn. He’s not the same. Different.

“I don’t know. You decide for me.”

Never for a second does your gaze stray to his lips that barely move as he utters the line. Not the same either.

Before, you’d always been mesmerized by his lips. Then he’d notice and tease you prior to delivering the long-awaited kiss, again and again till you were breathless and your head became dizzy.

But this wasn't before; this is now, filled with grudges and sourness.

“You know I can’t make big decisions.”

That isn’t him. Isn’t the Hyunjin who would always provide endless tips and support, opinions unable to be held back without duct tape.

“Because you don’t want to get hurt knowing we chose this?” He whispers, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth hard enough to bleed.

“Because I want better for us.”

“Y/n,” He sadly laughs, and your name rolling off his tongue sends an ache clawing your chest. It’s humorless, bitter in his throat.

“There is no us, only you and me, remember? So who do you want better for?”

There’s no twinkle in his eyes or his charming smile, it’s dry and painful, like he’d been crying.

You don’t want to think about that.

“Tell me something, okay?” Holding your phone to your ear with an iron grip, you slowly inhale through your nose, sparing a fleeting glance to the floor.

“Anything.”

“If I cry, will you hug me?”

“Do you want that?”

Question after question. He reaches in further, ripping out pieces of your soul with each inquiry. Stupid, sure. But genuine, all the way from the shrouded depths of your mind did you ask.

Of course you want that, want what’s so bad for you. No strength can make you admit it.

He knows the answer.

You hang up the call, fiddling around with your suitcase prior to wheeling the blundering thing over and ensuring you find a comfy spot out of Hyunjin’s sight.

Only five minutes of talking and you already feel as if your body is splintering into little pieces he’ll arrange into the perfect puzzle, ideal and pleasing.

He won’t. Not anymore he won’t.

And in that stead you’ll remain shattered.

What a shame.

Now boarding Group Five. All passengers in Group Five are welcome to board.

The hailing announcement earns a muffled groan through your mask, begrudgingly rising to your feet while directing your attention solely upon the bridge and your tightly held boarding pass. Luckily, Incheon International Airport isn’t half as hectic as you anticipated, but you have a gnawing feeling Paris will have a lot more to say.

Truth be told, you thank every lesson on task focus you once deemed useless as you shuffle among Paris-goers to find your seat.

One that obviously had to be right by Hwang Hyunjin.

“How’s you and Seungmin?” He fixes the length of his headphones, sparing a quick look at you while speaking. You despise how easy he treats this, how easy he’s treating everything at the moment.

Unfortunately, booking this hell-on-earth back when either of you were in your demented fantasy-land meant sitting beside each other also, in assigned seats.

Cupid really needs to give up by now.

You grunt beside him, uttering a hushed, “We broke up.”

Tilting his head, Hyunjin presses his face closer, craning. Close enough that you hold your phone up as a barrier, shrinking away nearer to the window.

“…Who broke up with who?”

Asshole.

Sighing boisterously, you shove in your own earbuds, rolling your eyes. Hyunjin, cocking a brow, dejectedly slouched back. Although he doesn’t ask any more questions, and you successfully get through your first three hours in silence.

Well, prior to the flight attendant strolling by with her cart, mandatorily beckoning orders from each row.

Wheeling her cart over where your seats are, Hyunjin takes a ginger ale and the customary pretzels they hand out. So when she gets to you and you order a Sprite, the man to your right’s head snaps to you, giving you quite an incredulous cock of his brow.

“No ginger ale?”

You wrinkle your nose.

“I don’t like it,” Biting back, you interrupt him upon accepting the canned soft drink, expression bitter and unwavering.

“You always got it when you were with me” or “Wasn’t it your favorite” was what you expected to come out of his mouth, positively obliterating any ounce of peace of mind remaining inside your rattling skull. You weren’t about to sit another seven hours sulking about something your ex said.

The ex you were very much over.

Right.

Your new goal? Avoid genuine conversation for as long as possible, at least on this flight.

So, given the chance to be deep in thought, you came to a conclusion.

You were clockwork, just like before. Except now instead of just equaling the time of day, he was the hour hand and you were the minute hand, always chasing after one another only to briefly touch and start all over again in an endless cycle of time.

Although the rockier the air gets and the more your grip squeezes the armrest does your initial goal falter, finding his considerate gesture asking if you were alright practically impossible to keep from responding to.

Especially when a huge drop has his hand racing atop yours, both too nervous to truly let go.

Just the circumstances, you blame, as if this plane was the sole cause of your slamming heartbeat.

Bullshit.

Four days and this trip was going to be one for the books for a multitude of reasons, that’s for sure.

Let’s just hope you can land first.

December 23nd – Paris, France.

His assuring hold on your hand guiding you through the bustling crowds of visitors and locals storming Charles de Gaulle Airport gives you this disgusting nostalgia, festering in your gut the longer you focus on his dark head of hair in front of you, kind, magnificent almond eyes flickering back to catch sight of you time and time again — like you’d magically sift from his grasp.

It’s a miracle you managed to hit ground in one piece, nevertheless end up with the notorious artist-jerkface named Hyunjin navigating you through an supremely overpopulated airport.

Perhaps it’s the scent of wispy pine or faint cigarette smoke that tinges the atmosphere such a rosy hue, perhaps everyone’s anticipation for the holiday’s. Either way, it certainly doesn’t help fuel your “absolutely NO touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda”.

Well, you had no doubt you’d have to stick to your morals on this trip in the first place, and it’s not like the odds were supposed to work in your favor. Although, a little assistance would‘ve been nice.

Guess you’ll just have to make due.

Lovely.

“Thank you!” You shout, forcing your voice to sound chipper speaking to the Cab Driver (opposing the twenty-two hours of traveling you managed to survive through). Except now, you didn’t know what to do nor what to say standing outside the hotel entrance, especially not when Hwang Hyunjin was going to be biting your ass for the next few days.

Much to your luck though, it seemed he was just as clueless as you, both prioritizing just checking into your room first and foremost.

Thankfully, the sights are a wondrous source of distraction, and you devise a plan to go walking more often than not (and not just to avoid Hyunjin). Each building appears as if it’d been expertly carved from stone, historically aged beige, awnings titled a bottomless array of Grand Seiko and Jaeger-LeCoultre.

To add, huge paneled windows are placed in each room, allowing a breathtaking view of the city as evening dawns. Whether it’s a quaint bakery hitched right below a bookstore or the bell tower seated comfortably in the middle of a square—you could never get bored.

Seems your interest tore you away from an unwelcomed reality until Hyunjin cleared his throat, thick eyebrows raised questionably.

“..We could go ice-skating?” He offers, index pointing to the huge rink a few blocks to the left.

You don’t have to speak for him to know your response, unzipping your suitcase to gather a new change of clothes without a word.

“Look, I know you want nothing to do with me, but I doubt either of us will ever have enough money to come to Paris again, so just, do it for the experience, not for me.”

That’s it.

“For you? You think I’m doing this for you? Are you really that conceited to think I’m still catering to you, Hyunjin? I’ve changed whether you like it or not, and I’m not the girl that’s willing anymore,” You toss your clothing to the side, giving him a downright venomous stare. Loathing. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“In fact,” Spitting poison, you stab your index to his chest, causing him to back up the more you advance forward. “You don’t know shit about me.”

He appears torn. His nose scrunches, and his lips form a squabbled line upon his face, evidently troubled.

Somehow, those actions that normally earned your sympathy only reared your deftly oiled gears more, angrily roaring without fail.

“Because if you did, we wouldn’t be like this.”

Gesturing around, you retreat back a few steps, arms slapping your sides irritably. Meanwhile, the tall man remains silent, attention magnetically directed down at his shoes. And for a swift moment, mere seconds, you feel sorry — apologetic even.

It makes you sick to your stomach.

You exhale. “I’ll go, and not for you. Understood?”

Hyunjin doesn’t reply, biting his cheek as he watches you disappear into another room.

You thank the refreshing scent of peppermint for its momentary relief upon entering the bathroom, practically drenching your face in ice cold water over and over as if it’d clear your head.

For you; you’re doing this for you, nobody else, you remind yourself, prepping a washcloth and your toiletries whilst praying the warm shower water eases your blaring jet-lag.

Yet, you didn’t expect a visitor to suddenly pop in while you were mid-shampoo, and it seemed he didn’t expect it either.

You swore the prolonged eye-contact went on for centuries, absolute terror embracing every aspect of your face through the clear shower door.

“Fuck! Get out!”

Scurrying like a character off a cartoon, Hyunjin manages – through spilling apologies – to blindly ram himself into the door, hands gripping his skull.

Suddenly, he pauses, hesitating.

“Wait but I’ve seen you naked befo–”

“GET OUT!” You scream.

“Okay! Okay.” He hurriedly slips out, leaving you to rethink every decision made with his name involved. A recurring thought at this point.

And with that, you quickly accept that your jet lag isn’t even close to gone and likely won’t be as long as the artist sharing your hotel room is within a six-foot radius.

Oh, and you don’t know shit about ice-skating.

Of course, Hyunjin is a natural on ice. He glides like a snow spirit, freer than ever. Meanwhile, your nails are embedded into your vice of a railing, knees shakily attempting at balancing with little success.

He’s the princess, and you’re the frog. It’s decided. Walking while you crawled, running while you walked. A step ahead that was at some point motivating, now plain humiliating.

The ice rink is jam-packed, citizens and tourists alike savoring the crisp winter, the faded twinkling of lights glittering in the distance.

“C’mon, just one?”

You, clawing the icy edge, confusedly avert your focus to where the voice came from.

It’s Hyunjin, gesturing to his camera while you piece together his request before childishly whining your despair. He lifts his toboggan upward, a few endearing tufts of golden peering out to hang over crescent moon eyes, evidently smiling.

Leave it to this man to test your sanity. How could anybody say no when he looked that cute.

“Fine, one.”

Not like I could run off anyway, you mentally consider, finding the fact your legs are quite literally flailing as a good enough sign to give in.

“Yes!” He chirped happily, hurriedly fiddling with his camera.

Watching him with that kind of expression, you witness your Hyunjin again, fumbling around, so excited about the smallest of things.

It hurts.

“I..” He trails off, voice barely audible whilst winking to see through the lense. “Don’t want to miss a moment of you.”

“What was that?”

The camera flashes, and you wonder if you heard him correctly.

“Oh nothing.” His lips curl into a sheepish grin, easing toward you and unexpectedly prying your hand into his own, involuntarily pulling you along.

Panickedly, you clutch onto any article of clothing available (another goodbye to your no-touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda) similar to the handrails, squeezing your eyes shut while painfully awaiting a harsh slam against rock-hard ice.

A harsh slam that never happens.

You cautiously open an eye.

“One, two, one, two.” He counts steadily, soaring across the ice, unable to contain the huge beam the longer he watches you. Captivating.

You fight the urge to smile, the sensation of wind whipping your hair and his warm, reminiscent touch setting your nerves into a dopamine frenzy, making the routinely frown much harder than need be.

Nevertheless, perhaps staying in Hyunjin’s grasp would’ve been the safer option. Because with confidence comes failure (at least in your book of life), and your knees would’ve definitely appreciated not getting ruined.

“Are you alright?” Hyunjin murmurs, sympathetically regarding your black and blue frame, looking worse for wear, skates in hand.

“Amputation has never sounded more tempting,” Grumbling, you hobble to return your skates, the man tailing behind you choking back his giggle, kindly waiting in case you stumble.

From the way things are going, the probability is high. Except, Hyunjin walks on eggshells, worried you might rip his head off in the case he asked the question sitting tentatively on the tip of his tongue.

Keeping himself contained had never been as unbearable as when with you, constantly having to refrain from wrapping your precious self into his arms, witness those warm, beautiful hues blinking at him like globes.

Five minutes into the walk back and your near-face-plant-turned-catastrophe was his last straw.

“Can I at least carry you?”

Your head snapping back was almost comical, ogling at Hyunjin as if he told you he’d been neutered or something.

Insane. He’s officially gone insane.

So have you, apparently. Because after getting all too familiar with the icy side walk for a fifth time, you give in, stifling your thoughts from erupting out of your skull—feeling like your entire earth was slowing down on its axis when he easily swept you off your feet.

Cute, hell, romantic too, until you arrive back at the hotel and the curious looks sent your way have your cheeks burning.

“This is so embarrassing.” You whine, burying your face in your hands. Of course, Hyunjin just laughs.

You missed his laugh.

And he cares for you that night, transporting you from room to room in his arms despite your complaints you could do so yourself (although you secretly preferred it, and no, not because it was Hyunjin, only because of how bruised your legs were).

Plus, the mental exhaustion was practically debilitating, sleep beckoning you into its cozy embrace as the clock ticked on the wall. The man before you knelt in front of where you sat on the side of the bed, gently applying antiseptic to your cuts while you blanked in and out of consciousness.

Any common sense had completely abandoned you. Certainly, since you hadn’t noticed only one bed sat dead center in the room. Nor had you noticed through your half-asleep eyes how sweetly he maneuvered you around, pulling the comforter snug over your body.

His hand strays, wistfully smoothing some hair from off your eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, gathering spare pillows and blankets.

He’ll sleep on the floor.

December 24th – Paris, France.

Apparently, there was much more to this Paris dilemma than just the “going to Paris” part (excluding, y’know, the havoc that’s occurred over the past three days).

This fantastic surprise came in the form of a booked Louvre Museum date, now a bit more like a punishment with your current state of soreness merely rising up from bed. And, in turn, seeing Hyunjin sawing logs on the floor below, an action you were inaudibly grateful for.

You two are a different kind of romantic if that’s what you want to call it, especially when Hyunjin practically barricades the bathroom door, nonsensically shouting that he won’t make the same mistake of walking in ever again.

Sweet gesture, but it gets a tad bit irritating when you have to basically charge the door in order to move the chair situated behind it, making you doubt if it was to keep Hyunjin himself out or keeping you in instead.

Yeah. Different kind of romantic. Exes kind of romantic.

Once 5pm rolls around, you’re already dressed and ready to leave, trying your darndest to pretend you’re doing something on your phone to evade conversation. A middle school move, though your ego is on the brink of becoming extinct anyway.

Seems the final act is when Hyunjin steps out of the bathroom, wearing that tan trench coat he always did.

He notices you analyzing, stifling a very tempting smirk.

“I thought you’d like this jacket. Y’know, since you stared at it all the time.”

With a sentence you watched your endangered ego obliterate in real time, embarrassment swallowing you whole. The cycle is neverending.

Thankfully, at least one factor in your unsolvable equation proves itself useful, the factor being your already purchased tickets, granting an earlier entrance into what felt to be a new world.

A new world you recognized as Hyunjin’s world. Vast, expansive. A place you can get lost in and be okay with. Stories hidden behind gold-rimmed frames, so much to tell if only you’d listen.

He lingers by the Psyche and Cupid sculpture longer than usual. Briefly, he told you about them many moons ago. Their love awakening from something much more tragic, apocalyptical.

What a coincidence.

You spend what feels to be days in there, daylight from the lengthy windows overhead falling dark by the time you’re finished. The temperature dropped exponentially while you explored, ignorant to the frigid conditions till realizing you still had your trek back.

Curse the taxi service for not running twenty-four hours.

“You grew your hair out.” You comment, but it’s not really a comment, more like an observation you already knew and felt the need to point out for some odd reason. The awkward silence is suffocating enough.

Granted, you’d known his hair had grown. You saw him every day coming to and fro from work, so any adjustments he made you saw, some of which you remember loving oh so much.

This adjustment was his hair.

Hyunjin’s lips quirk ever so slightly, fingers straying up to tousle a strand.

“You used to love it when I grew it out.”

He continues to walk ahead, ignoring how you had stalled behind, numb grip desperately clutching your puffer jacket as if it’d magically allow you inhalations.

“You would tie it up for me, and stick my paintbrushes in the bun.”

This time, he spins around, seemingly unaffected by your (both literally and figuratively) frozen finger that simply blinks at him — robotic-like.

Like Hyunjin is a stranger. Like your Hyunjin, the old one you were mad for, is now a stranger.

“And I,” He sniffs in, his exhale causing a cloud of air to comprise in its stead. “Really wanted to marry you.”

There’s your breaking point.

He’s pulled you thread by thread closer to an unthinkable free fall, a freezing free fall. Unfurling your strings of yarn to no point of repair. So as you teeter on the edge, your defense mechanisms kick in. And before you can logically consider your options, you smack him.

Right. Across. The face.

He’s stunned, you don’t blame him for that, but there’s also a crinkle in his brows, a look of utmost hurt beginning to stain any somber expression left.

“You have no right to say that when you’re the one that caused all of this.” Your volume increases, unaffected by the glances from passerby.

You have no doubt the two of you are quite a scene, though common sense had long abandoned you, and no thought but fiery rage curls around you, tendrils alight.

“Why the hell did you want to marry me if you can’t even love me? Quit hurting and confusing me Hyunjin, I can’t keep doing this.” Practically pleading, he pulls his palm from where it babied his cheek, instead retreating to your wrists, keeping you in front of him.

“Listen.”

“No!” You screech, trying your hardest to escape.

“Listen.”

You pause, gingerly allowing him to adjust the scarf over your pink nose and ensure your gloves trap warmth for your fingers.

He bites his lip, gaze dancing across your features.

“I love you.”

You shakily exhale, wishing everything would just stop. Time would simply diminish into nothing but stillness, easiness.

Your anguish and anger was easy, and staying mad was a whole lot easier than this—confronting the pains of meeting him again, nonetheless this trip.

He’s finding the pieces to your puzzle.

You want to hide.

Worst of all? Especially hearing him say the words that ended you two months prior.

Cruel.

“I loved you,” His voice wavers. “More than anything, Y/n. And I still do. But when you said that, I got scared.”

He shakily inhales, the grip on you lessening a bit.

“Because when I say I love you back, that means I have someone to lose.”

It’s hypocritical, you know.

Hell, you know what it’s like to be a hypocrite more than anything right now. From hearing the godforsaken news to sitting in an airplane together after wholeheartedly promising yourself you’d never let him have you once more.

Yet here you were, dragging him by his collar into a kiss.

He kisses you back, like an idiot, childishly grasping his clothing-cladden frame against your face and savoring the small bit of heat huddled between where your lips meet.

His trench-coat, you remember, despite so many adjustments, is the same as usual, and it’s almost comforting to find he smells the same as well—floral, with hints of jasmine (mainly thanks to his favorite perfume). You remember that too.

Guess some things never change.

Perhaps he kept that mug after all, drank from it every day like he used to.

And perhaps, right now, he’s wishing back all the time you’ve spent apart, just like you are. Wishing you would’ve just talked like mature, capable adults. Figured things out.

Newsflash, you’re not mature adults. You’re two broken lovebirds fighting to find their song after being caged together, searching high and low for the perfect pitch when all you needed was a single note, a single start.

Positioning you where an arm wraps around your back, the other holding your cheek, he dips you as if in a ballroom dance, not kissing beneath a street light.

Everything is pretty in Hyunjin’s presence.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” You whisper, nostrils burning the longer you’re surrounded by snow, falling in hefty sheets at this rate.

He hums into your lips, maneuvering his head to kiss away the chilled tears beginning to froth upon your waterline. And in those moments, you feel so fragile, so weak in his touch.

Almost instinctively, his grip tightens oh so slightly.

“I really don’t want to lose you.”

And he laughs, a muffled laugh that nonetheless causes his shoulders to shake before delving further into your kiss, melting away every bit of anguish you felt, all the hurt and ache. Dissolved into nothingness by his lips.

Figures briefly illuminated by the light of the street lamp, you remain ignorant to the encroaching nightfall, the way the stars seamlessly blend with white snowflakes. Something out of a fairytale.

You’re certain you could’ve stood there forever, all numb and freezing cold.

But in love. So very in love.

For him you would’ve stood there. And the you still in denial without understanding this entire story would’ve died before admitting that.

This time, you’re okay with letting him finish the puzzle, create a song as lovebirds.

“You won’t, I promise,” He traces your cheek with his thumb. “Now let’s get someplace warm, shall we?”

Landing an affectionate peck to your burning red nose, he takes your hand, guiding you through climbing snow toward your hotel, sign reading “Hôtel de Vendôme” glittering in the distance.

In your opinion, however, it was too fleeting. A kiss you hadn’t realized you’d been waiting for until it actually happened, till you pathetically craved it again and again.

Although, that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy gaining feeling back in your fingers and toes, treasuring the flicker of the fire crackling beneath a brick mantel. A few guests litter the lobby, dishing paper cups of hot chocolate left and right, taking the opportunity the mistletoe hanging above a long forgotten stairwell provides.

Christmas Eve and you’re beside the ex you swore you’d never spend it with, spend any time with generally. So surreal you simply cannot stop thinking about it, enough that you become too distracted to notice the mischievous glint in Hyunjin’s vision.

Well, before he points upward and you notice the dangling mistletoe.

And he kisses you again just like you wanted. Deeper, slower, like separating would cause you to break apart, carving your kiss into his memory for a second time.

Standing there, too lost in him to ever consider anything better than this, you begin to think maybe you’ll be able to finish that stagnant book of yours. Maybe it’ll be about two lovers turned two exes, whose trip to Paris might just have been the cherry on top to hurt feelings and broken love. Because, at the end of their tribulations, Cupid falls in love with Psyche.

And you begin to think—as the clock’s ringing announces midnight has arrived—maybe this Christmas will pass by on a good note.

No, you’re certain of it.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @slut4colinbridgerton @armystay89 @shujohajohaminnie @minhosbitterriver @callmedarlingsstuff

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futureman · 4 months

Text

safe & sound

pairing: finnick odair x reader

summary: after years of hard nights and bad dreams, finnick knows better than anyone how to make you feel safe again

warnings: post-mockingjay, established relationship, victor!reader, fluff, comfort, nightmares, brief depictions of death & anxiety

word count: 1.2k

(based on this request, tysm <3)

Callused fingers cradle your cheek while soft lips pepper softer kisses down the slope of your neck. They're a welcome reprieve from the terror that lingers after yet another bad dream.

Yet another night, forced to relive the greatest horrors of your short lifetime. Sometimes it's the arena, your hands covered in the blood of your fellow tributes, their small faces frozen in their final moments of fear.

Tonight's was somehow even worse. It was him, cruelly dismembered while you watched uselessly from the top of that damned ladder. You can still hear them clear as day, hissing your name instead of the Mockingjay's with voices much too human for their mutated, reptilian bodies.

But the games and the war are over now, you know that. You're not trapped in those tunnels anymore, or desperately tugging the love of your life to safety as the Capitol's mutts snap at his ankles in their violent attempts to drag him to his death.

Because in the waking world, they didn't. Finnick is right next to you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that mean everything. Those gentle words spoken in the dark mean he's still alive.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart. It's not real. None of it is real," he mumbles carefully, shifting to mouth at the sweat-slick skin just below your jaw. The deep timbre and vibration of his voice are soothing, if only a little. "Take a deep breath—in through your nose, out through your mouth. Do it with me, come on."

You do as he says, tensing in anticipation, preparing for the overwhelming scent of roses, but it never comes. Instead, you smell seawater. It's strongest in his sleep-tousled curls, so you nose into them and breathe him in, letting your focus drift elsewhere. Somewhere safe.

Your next exhale is a little steadier, even more still when you repeat the action with him, once then twice. Slowly, everything you see, feel, smell, taste, is him. His lips meet yours, and your eyes remain open even as his flutter closed in your desperation to keep the familiar, nightmarish images that dance behind your eyelids at bay.

But as he coaxes your mouth open and buries his fingers in your hair to pull you closer, everything else begins to fade away. There's only Finnick.

You repeat it to yourself like a mantra—there's no one else here but Finnick. He's right here.

Blunt nails gently scratch your scalp, tensing to keep you near, to maintain the grounding pressure of his lips against yours, and the kiss deepens. But there's no heat behind it. Only the potent taste of sugar cubes and the persistent bite of determination. He won't give up until he banishes every awful recollection and replaces them with newer memories of comfort and peace—at least for the night.

Eventually, he pulls away, chastely pecking your lips a few more times when you chase him. Immediately, you feel colder, and as if he can sense it, he pulls you flush against him, resting his cheek on your collarbone.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks, a faint murmur as he peers up to meet your gaze.

There's concern in his eyes, and you wonder if you were screaming again. God, you hope not. It happens often enough, but even so, it's not something you think either of you will ever get used to.

You sigh and start to shake your head, but stop short. Do you want to talk about it? The answer is usually a resounding no—why dwell on anything that causes so much pain, that you've discussed over and over, practically to death?

And yet, for the first time in a long time, there are words on the tip of your tongue desperate to escape. Tonight, you actually do.

"It was bad, Finn," you whisper shakily, still falsely convinced you need to remain quiet so you're not overheard. "They got you this time. Tore you apart...ripped you to shreds, and I did nothing. None of us did. We let you die—sacrificed you for some greater good, but no one even tried," you spit out, your voice rising in anger the longer you recall your dream. "We could've saved you. We chose not to."

He stays silent, his arms tightening around you as a reminder of your reality. You're positive he can feel you trembling, and his brows knit together in what anyone else would assume is sympathy. But he understands. He felt that crippling fear back then and he feels it radiating off of you in waves right now.

Fighting to hide the intensifying quiver of your lips, you breathe sharply out your nose to dispel your misplaced blame. You didn't lose him, and so of course there's no one at fault. You repeat that like a mantra, too.

"You know, sometimes I wake up searching for you. l expect you to be gone like you were never here at all," you mumble numbly, but your body betrays you, finally giving in to the burning behind your eyes. "It feels like I'm suffocating. I can't breathe no matter how hard I try, and there's this huge weight on my chest, this crushing loneliness I can't shake."

A few stray tears fall against your will, and he brushes them away with a gentle swipe of his thumb before you can rub your skin raw. He cups your cheeks again, guiding you down for another kiss, and it's salty and wet, just like seawater.

You suddenly feel overwhelmingly grateful. Night after night, you go through this same routine, and he calms you without question or complaint, lovingly. After so many years, it feels like second nature to both of you. And when he has his bad nights, quieter than yours but no less traumatic, you soothe his unrest with stories from your childhood, of ocean spray and fishing nets filled to the brim on a stormy day.

Rolling you onto your back, he braces himself on his elbows to keep from crushing you while he shields you from the rest of the world. This bed—the light, scratchy fibers of home woven into your blanket and pillowcases—is the only world that matters, the one you've made for yourselves.

Finnick kisses you breathless, then fills your lungs with his air. You feel lighter. Relieved. Then he speaks and his voice is like a lullaby, better than any bedtime story with a happy ending meant only for you.

"But you always find me, right? When you open your eyes, I'm always here," he says so earnestly that it must be true. You nod, your eyelids growing heavier as the world fades into a wash of bronze and seafoam green. "It's okay to close them. Get some rest. I promise you, I'll be waiting right here in the morning when you wake up."

As you drift off, he lowers his body to rest carefully on top of yours, and his heat acts as a blanket to shelter you against the cool, salty breeze filtering in through an open window.

You're home. You're safe. Tonight, you believe it.

thanks for reading!

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games fanfiction

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tallulah477 · 5 months

Text

Keep Me Warm

Kinkmas Day 1: Cockwarming

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Na'vi!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Somnophilia, Fingering, P in V, Cockwarming, Obsessive/Possessive behavior

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Happy Day 1 of Kinkmas!

Summary: Neteyam wakes up from a dream, hard and aching, and can't help but want to feel you wrapped around his cock, keeping him warm.

Translations:

Tewng - Loincloth

Tìyawn - Love

Mawey - Calm

He wants to be inside of you so badly.

Your warm body is pressed snuggly against his front, his arm slung securely over your waist to keep you close. Even his tail has wrapped itself around your thigh, intent on keeping you next to him even in sleep - as if you would ever want to be anywhere else.

His dreams so far have been kind, yet cruel.

You star in all of them - your beautiful body teasing him with promises of fulfilling what he wants. He had you bent in half, twisted around and into yourself as he plowed into you from whatever position he wanted. He still remembers how you looked, dream you mimicking real you to the point where it's difficult to see the distinction. The overwhelming intensity and pleasure written clearly on your face when he fucked into you, the same one you wore just earlier in the night as he dragged orgasm after orgasm from your exhausted body with his tongue, and then his cock.

You had both been exhausted before the night ended, sweating and panting as you moved together on the woven mat inside your shared hut, cut off from the rest of the world. Just you and him, together - both in the physical sense as well as the literal. Him inside you, stretching your walls out as you writhed underneath him, him fitting inside you like a perfect puzzle piece.

The dreams are beautiful, realistic and sweltering in the way he knows being with you to be. But they are brutal when they ultimately crash into reality, the excitement coursing through his body enough to cause the dreams to break down around him, your false image fading into nothing but a memory as he jolts awake - hard, aching, and unsatisfied.

It’s a testament to how obsessed with you he is that even in his dreams he can’t stand to be away from you for even a moment. He needs to feel it - needs to feel how your pussy clenches around his cock, trying to suck him in further and refusing to let him free. Needs to feel how wet you are for him, so he knows that he’s the only one who can ever make you feel that turned on, that desperate, and oh so fucking needy for him.

He needs to know he’s not the only one dying for it.

His fingers move lightly against the soft skin of your stomach, knuckles sliding back and forth just above your belly button before dipping lower, fingertips tracing the invisible line of where the band of your tewng would sit, if you were wearing one. His lips brush gently against your shoulder, pressing kiss after kiss along the available canvas of skin until his lips nibble playfully on the back of your neck. The sensation would have sent you into a fit of giggles had you been awake. But all it does is make you tilt your head slightly, nuzzling further into the mat, a heavy sigh falling from your lips - but still, you don’t wake.

Neteyam’s roaming fingers travel lower, sliding between your closed thighs and working his hand between them with practiced grace. He’s always been insatiable when it comes to you. You knew that going into the relationship with him, and there've been many nights where you’ve woken up with his hand between your thighs or his cock sliding against your ass. You’ve never minded before - you love the idea that he needs you so bad he can’t wait to have you. And your body unconsciously reacts to his demanding touch.

He groans against your shoulder when he feels how wet you are already - so soft, and silky, and slick for him. Were you dreaming about him too? Thinking about how you need his big cock inside you more than you need air to breathe?

His fingers play around in your wetness as he mouths at the back of your shoulder, long skillful fingers circling your clit and he hides his grin with his teeth pressed against the curve of your shoulder when you moan quietly in response. His cock throbs against his thigh, the swollen tip smearing precum along one of your asscheeks when he can’t help but rock against you.

He can’t take it anymore, can’t wait another second without feeling your soaked pussy wrapped around his needy cock. Neteyam moves carefully, movements slow and purposeful so as to not wake you. He climbs over your sleeping body, holding himself over you for a few seconds just to watch your eyelashes flutter and the gentle rise and fall of your chest. You look so peaceful - so comfortable and at home on your shared mat.

Great Mother, he wants to eat you alive.

With another skillful movement, he’s on his side again, this time in front of you so you’re face to face. He leans forward, tongue daring to swipe across your bottom lip, just wanting to taste you, his large hand cradling the back of your thigh. He hauls your leg up, hooking your thigh around his hip, spreading you out just enough for him to slide his cock against your dripping folds. The quiet moans that fall from your parted lips as the tip of his cock glides past your clit are like music to his ears.

He positions himself at your entrance, the head nuzzling carefully at the wet hole before slowly pushing inside. His breathing is shallow as he pushes in further, feeling every single inch of your tight, gummy walls as they contract around him - making room for him and welcoming him into their depths. Your face changes the deeper he goes, eyelashes fluttering more abruptly, cheeks twitching as your moans turn into pitiful whines.

Your eyes fly open the second he bottoms out inside you, desperate whimpers of his name caressing his eardrums as your hands reach out for him, still dazed and eyes glassy from an interrupted sleep. He quickly wraps an arm around you, sitting up and pulling you with him so you sit flush on his lap as he coos in your ear.

“Shh, tìyawn. Relax,” He whispers. “Just wanted to feel you.”

“Teyam, please,” You whine, arms winding around his neck to keep him close. You’re fully awake now, the large cock currently sitting in your guts is making sure of that.

He feels so big inside you, so hard and thick as he keeps you split open on him. You can feel how his cock twitches inside of you, pulsing against your walls. He lets out a shaking breath when they flutter around him, the wetness from your core running down and dripping over his swollen, heavy balls.

“You feel so good,” He breathes, golden eyes slipping shut as he shudders. “Made for me, right? This pussy was made for me, to keep me warm and safe.”

You can’t help the way you pant, dripping on him and making him all wet and sticky with your slick, hips unconsciously trying to rock against him to get any kind of friction. But he doesn’t move - doesn’t lie back and tell you to ride him, doesn’t flip you over and start the punishing pace of pounding into your already battered cervix until you see stars. Instead, he keeps you there, gentle hands sliding soothingly along your back to keep you calm as he kisses your cheek.

“Mawey, ma y/n,” He says, groaning slightly when you wriggle on his lap a little too much, the clench of your pussy around his throbbing cock is almost enough for him to put an end to his little game. He quickly grabs your hips in his strong hold, keeping you still despite your confused cry. “Mawey,”

Your hand unwinds from his neck, snaking down play with your aching clit, but you only get one small touch at it - just enough for a shot of pleasure to shoot up your spine at the touch - before his hand pulls yours away again.

“Behave,” He warns, kissing your palm and guiding your hand back around his neck.

“Teyam, move,” You beg. “Please move.”

Neteyam shakes his head and silences any continued begging with a slow kiss. “I’ll fuck you, I promise. Just keep my cock warm for a little longer, okay?”

**Special thanks to @neteyamsyawntu for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @tsewtx @skywonder @neteyamswillow

#𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✎#Avatar12DaysofKinkmas #neteyam smut #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x reader smut

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nastyaromatherapy · 5 months

Text

Footlong (18+)

Ethan, a boy you bullied in highschool, sees you at a frat party and is hungry for revenge.

saw (this fic) and was like damn, i need an extended version of this.

pairing - dom!ethan landry x bully!reader

one shot length, 1.9k+ word fic

warnings: PIV, creampie, mentions of sh, degradation, tara reader and quinn are all bitches, big dick ethan

“Ethan? Please. I bet he’s never even held hands with a girl.” You quipped to Tara when his name aroused in a game of Fuck Marry Kill. Quinn quickly disagreed, “I bet- No, I know he’s packing. Haven’t you seen the outline in his khakis?” You internally bleh-ed at her wandering eyes. “Quinn, you fucking horndog,” you joked, leaning back in your chair and contemplating the original question: Fuck Mary Kill, Chad, Ethan, Frankie. “Fuck Chad, Marry Ethan, Kill that motherfucker Frankie.”

“Swap Ethan and Chad, then agreed,” Quinn said. Suddenly Ethan walked in in the khakis Quinn was talking about earlier, finding his seat in the back of the class. “Speak of the devil,” Tara tsked. “Yo, Ethan,” you called out. His eyes flickered up to meet yours before quickly dropping back down. “C’mon, why the long face? I heard only fans should be back up tonight, and I’m sure the ladies miss you as much you miss them,” you fake pouted. He just rolled his eyes and focused on copying down notes he borrowed from some friends.

“Ethan!” Tara called out to him, only this time he didn’t look up. “Don’t mind y/n, she’s just nervous. She wants to invite you to her party tonight, wants to see this ‘big dick’ everyone’s gassing.” You smirked and found Tara’s comment as a perfect opening. “Yeah, Ethan, that true? That you hide a footlong in your khakis?” You asked him condescendingly, a flush already flooding his cheeks. “Oh, Ethan,” Quinn gasped, grabbing on the sides of her desk to rock it. “It’s too big, I can’t take it,” she moaned artificially.

Ethan slouched in his seat, wanting to be as far as possible from here.

He was though, he slouched in his seat on the couch at the frat party, beer can in hand. He saw you dancing with some of your friends who he’s never seen before, having not seen you since Highschool. Oh would vengeance be sweet.

He waited until you walked into the kitchen for a drink so that he could approach you without distractions. “Y/n l/n,” he said with false surprise, making you turn around with a gasp. He grew taller, his hair was more put together, he was just hotter. “What a surprise,” he smirked. “Footlong!” You smiled, the name stemming from the joke from 12th grade. “Ethan- sorry. Old habits die hard,” you said. “It’s all good just, surprised to see you here,” he spoke.

“You’re taller!” You said awkwardly, gesturing your hands towards his figure. “Yeah, I guess canceling all those only fan subscriptions helped me grow,” he joked self deprecatingly, sadly smiling. You sighed, hating apologizes. “Oh, yeah sorry about all that. It was just a joke,” you said in the most tone deaf way possible. “Hey I mean, at least those were all rumors. It’s not like it came out that I had a threesome with Paul Keene and his cousin and it turned out to be very true.” Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips twisted into a snaky expression.

“Yo what the fuck is your problem?” You asked him as your temper rose. “Just taking a trip down memory lane,” he smirked before taking a sip of his beer, then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You looked at him with utter disgust for his remarks about the past. “Okay, my bad. You have gotten sexier though,” he said, empty hand reaching for your side.

You inched closer, giving into his touch. “Oh yeah?” You asked as you let his feel up your side. “Yeah,” he confirmed before finally landing a grip on your waist, pulling you in close. “You wanna dance?”

You led him to the dance floor to engage in some tipsy dancing. He wasn’t the best, was a little stiff, but you were there to help him out. You grinded on him as his hands rested at your hips. Ethan groaned as he felt his erection slowly growing as your ass rubbed against him.

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing you by your wrist, and you complied to follow him up the stairs. He slammed you against the paneled wall and kissed you hungrily, groaning into your mouth. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a littler turned on by this, your stomach churning.

You slowly slipped your tongue into his mouth, moaning into the kiss as his hands reached to fumble with your tits.

“Fuck,” he said after pulling away, wiping the extra slobber on his face with his palm. He grabbed you by your hand this time, leading you into an empty bedroom, being quick to lock the door.

“So, Footlong,” you started while walking into the room. “We gonna test if the rumors true? And I’m gonna guess you’re a virgin. Sex isn’t the same as porn, and girls aren’t like those cam girls I know you like to watch. Just to let you know.” He grimaced at your words, seeing that you obviously haven’t changed at all.

“Sad to see you haven’t changed,” he said. “Still a bitch,” he said with a smirk. “A sexy bitch,” you said. “According to your words.” Ethan was quick to correct you, “I said you were sexier, not sexy.” Your expression quickly faltered. “God I can’t believe I kissed you. You probably have herpes,” he said while wiping a hand down his face. “I-I don’t-”

“You know I used to burn myself? Almost everyday after school?” He asked, completely shifting the mood. Your face filled with shock, up until now unaware. “Ethan- I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me-” “Cause it was none of your fucking business!” He yelled, making you inch back a bit. “Just like it was none of your fucking business saying those things to me, knowing what I already had going on in my life.” He said, referring to the death of Richie and his father’s coping mechanisms.

“But I know why you’re here, y/n. It’s not because you like me, it’s not because you want to make up, it’s because you’re a fucking loud mouthed whore.” You opened your mouth to deny it, but you just couldn’t.

As he stood he started to unbuckle his pants, letting them drop to his knees. Your eyes grew wide at the visible bulge in his boxers, maybe not 12 inches, but still huge. “What? You need a step by step tutorial?” He asked, eyeing your blank expression. His words made you quickly snap out of it and get down so your knees touched the cold wood.

You tugged his boxers down, allowing his dick to spring out. He shallowly hissed at the cold air. Your mouth watered at the sight, he was perfect. You eagerly took the tip of him, feeling the rumbles of his groans. “That’s it, shut up and take it,” he grunted, slowly thrusting himself deeper into your throat. You rested your hands on his inner thighs and moaned on his length, finding yourself extremely turned on.

“Is this gonna be our secret? Are you gonna be too embarrassed to admit to your friends that you got face fucked by Ethan Landry?” He asked, his thrusts growing more aggressive. Your eyebrows contorted upwards, and with every thrust your mouth made a wet clicking sound.

You continued moaning around him from the pleasure of being used, eyes now glossy and red. Ethan slipped his hand down and pulled his cock out of your mouth, making you sigh from disappointment. “Stick out your tongue,” he softly demanded, and you quickly complied. “That’s a good whore,” he groaned as he jerked himself off over your tongue. You found yourself reaching your tongue up, just for a little taste. “Does the slut want my cum?” He asked, growing close, face completely red. “Yes,” you moaned. “Beg for it.”

You pouted, hungry for his cum. “Please cum for me, Ethan. I want your cum s’bad!” You whimpered out. Ethan threw his head back as he shot his cum directly in your mouth, a little making its way onto your lips. You licked it off your lips sluttily before swallowing all of it. Ethan tilted his head slightly, “Not even a thank you?” He asked, annoyed. “Thank you,” you corrected.

He looked down at you on the floor, eyeing you still in the dress. “Turn around.” After you turned to face away from him, he unzipped your dress to help you take it off, taking his shirt off as well. He hooked your black thong in his fingers and moved them to the side, eyeing your glistening pussy. He spit on it before giving your ass a slap, making you yelp and bounce forward.

“Face down,” he ordered, making you lay your face down on the cool floor. He took his cock and rubbed it up and down your pussy, leading you to whimper. “Please fuck me, Ethan,” you moaned. He slapped your ass again, “Yeah, you want my cock, slut?” You nodded furiously. “Please, need your cock in me,” you whined, pushing your ass back in an attempt to gain more friction.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he slid into you, grabbing a hold of your waist. “Ethan!” You moaned out. Never in a million years would you ever think that Ethan fucking Landry would be stretching you out. “That’s it, take my cock,” he groaned, ego boosting from how much you enjoyed it, from how you whimpered on his dick and clenched around him.

“So big,” you whispered, which he picked up on. “Yeah? You love my big dick stretching you out?” You nodded in response. “Yes, fuck I love your cock, Ethan!”

He got so much pleasure out of watching you submit for him, the girl who tormented him for years just from her words, going dumb on his cock. “Mm, slap my ass again please, it felt s’good,” you slurred out. He smiled and was quick to comply, leaving a red mark on your cheek. “Slut love when I smack her ass?” He asked smugly. “Mhm,” you whimpered.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you struggled to find anything to grab onto, reaching for your discarded dress to scrunch in your hands. “Not gonna say anything bitchy?” He asked, thrusts growing deeper. “Where’d your confidence go? Fuck you’re pathetic,” he smirked. “Pathetic slut who likes getting her pussy ripped apart by absolutely anyone.” You moaned at his words, growing close as tears formed in your eyes.

“So close, Ethan,” you whined, your stomach twisting in the most pleasurable way. “Oh yeah? Beg for it,” he grunted, slamming into you harder. “Fuck- please let me cum Ethan, your cock feels s’good,” you begged, cunt squeezing his length so tight. “That’s a good fucking whore, cum on my cock,” he groaned. You released all over him, squirting for the first time.

The liquid spurted onto his thighs and the floor, making you feel somewhat humiliated. He continued to fuck you, having not came yet. You screamed from the overstimulation, moaning uncontrollably. “Fuck, oh fuck. Ethann,” you whined as he chased his own high.

“Fuck!” He groaned with one final slam, filling your cunt with his thick cum. He was quick to pull out and watch his cum slowly drip out of your pussy. “Come taste yourself,” he said. You shifted around and bent over to suck his dick, covered in a mix of yours and his cum. He cursed under his breath as you overstimulated his cock, grabbing your head and pushing you down on his length, throwing his head back, groaning as you deepthroated him. Then he lifted your head up to see your fucked out face, wet with sweat. “Be useful and open your legs.”

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meiieiri · 5 months

Text

water’s edge | 02

₊˚.༄ pairing: crown prince!gojo satoru x f!reader | setting: modern royal au | official playlist

₊˚.༄ summary: in a world where titles define their fates, gojo satoru, the crown prince of japan, and his wife-to-be, face a tempestuous court of deception and schadenfreude. as they waltz on the edge of ruin, can their love endure the treacherous waters that threaten to pull them apart, or will the whims of the enigmatic chrysanthemum throne prove strong enough to drown them both?

₊˚.༄ author’s note: did i really just punch out a 12.9k chapter? 😅 thank you again to the loml @angstbot2000 for beta-reading! sorry for the wait everyone and thank uou for the sweet messages! again, reblogs are highly appreciated.

₊˚.༄ masterlist

Flashback: Shinjuku Opera City (a week after the jubilee gala)

Click. Beep. beep. beep Your wristwatch mimicked a ticking time bomb right now. You breathe once to make sure you were still, for all intents and purposes, alive. The smell of the Sauvignon blanc laid in front of you was so heavenly, its grape-like aroma tempting you to take a sip but you couldn’t, afraid that your body will just reject it in its current state of shock. You must have had a few too many earlier, your commoner palette not exactly used to the refreshing and crisp taste of white wine directly sourced from the rolling hills of Pouilly-Fume, and you must be hallucinating all this in your drunken stupor. Yes, all this was a hallucination, some sick naive dream you conjured after sharing a passing glance with the prince of the nation. It had to be, otherwise, why does it feel that your body has shut down? You were unable to move. Unable to speak. Unable to think.

And you were adamantly sure that you had also been rendered unable to breathe.

“…Huh?” That probably sounded stupid to your unlikely companions, well, normally it isn’t that stupid if you haven’t said that every five minutes or so during this fateful encounter. “This is a mistake. You really want me to-?”

“-Yes,” he said immediately, his mother nodding alongside him. His finger glided across the rim of his scotch glass. He took it neat, of course, the Crown Prince is a man of good taste. “I can ask my people to help you move your belongings to a more dignified residence tomorrow morning.”

The empress frowned at Satoru’s backhanded comment about your way of life. “Satoru, you’re scaring her,” she whispered worriedly to her son.

“If she’s smart, sure,” Satoru hisseed under his breath. If he was going to propose to you and consequently marry you under his parents’ orders, he was going to do it his way. “Look, Ms…?” he trails off, your name escaping him.

“(Y/N),” you provided. “My name is (Y/N).”

He makes a soft ‘tch’ sound which goes unnoticed since you were too preoccupied in shaking away the haze of thoughts in your mind dimming your ability to think. He continues, “As I was saying. Ms. (Y/N),” he puts emphasis on your name, etching the loathsome sound of it into his mind. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

What did he mean by that? “Excuse me?”

“I know I said that I was just a fan when I sent you those flowers after your performance tonight but, I guess you could say I’ve become an admirer of yours.”

This was all scripted, and Satoru, despite having had a memory good enough to memorize has a good his entire family tree including the collateral branches before he even graduated from primary school, found the words getting stuck in his throat and he trailed off, his mind was filled to the brim with nothing but the face of the woman he is unwillingly betraying in the name of protecting his status.

But wasn’t this what she wanted when she threw herself at the emperor’s feet that night? She was selflessly allowing him to go through with this despite knowing that every false tender word that he says to you would be a dagger to her heart, that every moment spent with you instead of her would make her cry a river of tears.

It feels as if this entire thing was a circus he had been forced into because his crown was hanging dangerously off the edge of the tightrope above him. Forced to perform, forced to act, forced to smile so that he wouldn’t feel the sting of the whip his father, the ringleader, had in his hand. Wasn’t that something Satoru has always done? How was this any different from all the elaborate ruses he’s been ordered to perform? Gojo involuntarily looks behind his seat, craning his head back, hoping to see the familiar figure of the love of his life standing exactly a meter away from him, just as she’s always faithfully done, but that was all wishful thinking; Himiko had been removed from the duty of accompanying him tonight.

“I don’t think I’m just a fan,” he continues, turning his attention back to you, the words confessing his so-called love being uttered stoically. You stop him right there, the amount of bewilderment in your heart at a fatal maximum. His hand finds his pocket, searching for the godforsaken ring he is about to present to you. “And I—“

“—You’re just curious, Your Royal Highness,” you dismissed his so-called feelings with a shake of your head. “You’ve never been with someone outside your circle, and you’re curious about what it would be like to be involved with a commoner like me.”

When the words leave your lips, a stretch of panic washes over your face. Did you just disrespect the prince and the empress by doubting the sincerity of his words? Or did they disrespect you by treating you like a moron? Were you just supposed to believe that Prince Satoru had feelings for you? Your mind was spinning, and you were feeling a migraine aura beginning to form at your peripheral vision. You had to get out of there. Quickly moving the chair back so that you could stand up, you bow contritely to excuse yourself from the room. “Ms. (Y/N), please wait!” the empress sighs exasperatedly when you leave the private dining room of the high-class restaurant, your heels clicking against the marble floor as you hurriedly see yourself out.

Perhaps, they were being too hasty for you to say “yes”, too secretive about their true intentions. If they were to even have a chance of convincing you to marry Satoru, they have to let you in on the truth. Luckily, despite her age, the empress catches up to you just as you are about to hail a cab which was proving to be difficult since it was now past eleven o’clock and even the busy skyscraper district of Shinjuku was starting to look deserted.

“Ms. (Y/N),” she breathes, stopping just a few feet from you. “Please hear me out. I’m sorry, this was a mistake…”

“It's fine, Your Royal Highness, I know the Crown Prince doesn’t like me the way he says he does. I may not be as highly educated as you but I’m not an idiot.”

The empress looks on sadly. “Well,” she sighs, standing next to you. “I knew you would figure it out sooner or later. Still, I’m really sorry for what happened back there.”

You don’t respond for a long while, contemplating what to say; the air between you is one of awkwardness and something’s gotta give, otherwise, you and the empress would be standing in the middle of the empty street like total fools. You are the first to break, “Your Highness. Why me? And what’s this really about?”

Why on earth were you chosen over so many other women in Tokyo’s most affluent families to become Prince Satoru’s wife? You expected that this so-called dinner would be nothing more than a courtesy call to thank the prince and the empress for visiting the last night of your show. One could only imagine the emotional whiplash you felt when the prince suddenly offered for you to become his wife which was totally unexpected considering you have never spoken a word to one another before. Just what kind of a messed up Shakespearean romantic tragedy did you wind up in? This entire thing felt like a work by some deranged author who’s had one too many to drink while writing this poisoned manuscript of a love story.

“It’s exactly as the prince said,” she says succinctly. “The prince isn’t getting any younger and he’s in need of a wife. That’s what I would have told you if you were one of those shallow high society women I’ve had the displeasure of meeting.” The empress bitterly thinks about one specific girl that is so loathsome and vile that she has forcibly brought Satoru on the brink of total destruction. Last week’s fiasco with the emperor was a warning shot, and knowing her husband, there won’t be a second time.

You frown, not liking it when people are purposefully brought down to compliment another. “I’m sure that’s not true,” you mumbled, not really knowing what to say.

“But it is,” the empress insists. “People who are born with everything have this tendency to think they are above everyone else. Maybe that was what caused the prince to become this way, because his own mother was born from nothing,” she chuckled.

Knowing that the prince was the only son she will ever be blessed with, having had him at the age of forty-one, she overindulged Satoru by giving him everything, and bending to his every will. So, Satoru grew up confident that he’d only have to point at a storefront window and his mother would get it for him, otherwise he’d throw a tantrum. Maybe that’s what’s going on — all the scandals, all the controversies — was this another one of Satoru’s tantrums because they refused to allow him to have a relationship with, much less marry, his chief-of-staff?

“Nothing? I thought Your Highness, well before you married His Majesty, was an heiress to a car company. I don’t think you should lump yourself in with us.” Those who were truly born from nothing, you thought to yourself.

The empress puts a hand over her mouth as her shoulders begin to shake as she giggles. “Is that so?” she laughs, reaching into her coat pocket, in search of something. Finally, she feels the familiar feel of the trinket she keeps with her day and night.

You expected her to pull out something more valuable than a five yen coin, and it looked like it’s an old one, judging by its rough and rust-stained edges. “See this?” She carefully places the coin in her hand as if it were a precious item. “This was the first ever money I ever had to my name at only eighteen years old. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it even now,” she smiles wistfully as memories of her youth, albeit a simpler time away from the intrigue of the imperial court. She gently places the memento in your hand.

It was so light, it barely weighed a few grams yet it held so much of the empress’s heart in it, like a personal diary that has kept her company throughout the years, or perhaps it was a compass that led her to the path that resonated with her true self- the girl of only eighteen that had the look of a dreamer in her eyes, or maybe it was an anchor that served to keep her feet firmly planted on the humble ground in spite of her exalted status as the emperor’s consort.

You studied the coin. “Only five yen?” Even you, a musician whose finances are scattered to the wind, could make more than five yen in less than an hour. You were confused. Was this another one of their tricks to get you to say yes? No, it couldn’t be, seeing as how the empress seemed so genuine now, almost like the conversation you were having was like a mother and daughter having a heartfelt chat.

The empress nods. “I was a store clerk at a music shop when I was young. It was the only way I could save up and go to college. Of course, this was all before my father invented that powerhouse of an automobile when he was tinkering around with a few of the customer’s cars in the mechanic shop he ran.”

Listening intently to the empress’s story, a sense of solidarity seemed to grow between you and her. “And this was your first salary? Hard to believe music shops pay so little back then.”

“No, no. That was a tip I received from a customer when I returned her wallet. She left it in the shop and I ran after her. Of course if I were a thief, I would have taken off with it, but it was completely empty.” That caused you to laugh. Who knew that the empress who always carried herself with poise and dignity had such a deadpan sense of humor? “So, she gave me the only coin in the wallet to thank me. A five yen coin. Since then, I’ve kept this with me at all times. Call it an old lady’s sentimental ramblings, but this is what keeps me from letting all this get to my head.”

You nod in understanding. But what did this beautiful story have to do with marrying Satoru? The empress senses the question before you could even form words to ask it.

“What I’m saying is that Satoru was my outlet,” she sulked. “My second chance. So I gave him everything his little heart could ever want. And as a mother I know it was wrong of me to raise him to think he’s above everything and everyone.” She didn’t actively do that, though. Satoru just developed that toxic kind of thinking somewhere down the line. “I’m sure you’ve heard the nasty things they say about my son.”

The atmosphere suddenly turns sullen. You remembered how you watched in horror when Prince Satoru appeared on your TV screen the morning after the jubilee gala. You normally saw the prince attending royal functions such as groundbreaking and ribbon-cutting ceremonies, and while you are aware, just like everyone else in the country, that Satoru had his own share of misfits, you dismissed it as the actions of a rebellious young adult. You never thought for one second that you would see the prince battering a man until he was closer to death than a rat caught in a mousetrap outside of a shady gambling den in an unsavory district in Tokyo.

“I’m pretty sure the press is stretching the truth at times.” That was the right thing to say, you didn’t want to badmouth her son in front of her.

She scoffs humorlessly. “I’m not asking you to defend him. What I’m asking of you is to help him.” She takes your hand in hers. “Ms. (Y/N), this marriage may start out as a publicity stunt, but you could turn into something better than that.”

Maybe you’d fall in love with the prince, and maybe he could open his heart to love another again, someone who was healthier for him than Himiko. While the disbelief in your face was clear, the empress’s words give you a sense of hope but again, being excused from this narrative was what you wanted more than anything. “I think you overestimate my power, Your Highness. What you are asking of me will only end badly, I’m sure of it. It’ll be a disaster for everyone.”

Looks like there was no convincing you. A lot seems to be going on inside the empress’s head and you sympathized with her anxiety, but this was something you couldn’t do. You have been what people call a “pushover” your entire life, but the subject of your marriage is critically non-negotiable.

“I understand,” the empress is now resigned to her son’s fate. It seems, after all that song and dance in front of the emperor, it was all futile in the end. At this rate, this time tomorrow, the son of the empress’s unwilling mistress would probably be declared heir apparent and she would be powerless to stop it.

“I’m sorry, it’s just my mother taught me that marriage is sacred and that I should never mess around with it. You could have asked me for anything, Your Highness, and I would have said ‘yes’ in a heartbeat.”

“Your mother seems like a very wise woman,” the empress smiles softly. “And she’s very lucky to have you as her daughter.”

You stiffened at that. “I…I wouldn’t know if she feels that way, really.”

A wave of confusion crashes over the empress. What did you mean? “Sorry?” she clarifies. You hesitate to let her in on your own pain and you feel a slight prick of guilt poking your heart. She had been so vulnerable tonight, so open with you about her grief while you guarded yours in a titanium safe. She decides not to push the subject further and instead places a hand over yours comfortingly before turning to leave.

A thought occurs in your head and everything seems to slow down. The cars passing by the main avenue of Nishi-Shinjuku seemed to be running at 10 mph instead of the road’s minimum 20 mph. The billboards towering over you have momentarily lagged like some fatal error occurred in the LCD screen.

…This was wrong, you shouldn’t even be thinking of this.

...What would make you any different from a bloodsucking gold-digger?

…Don’t run after her.

She wouldn’t want you to do this. It would kill her if you did this. But haven’t you killed her many times before? What would make this time any different? Absolutely nothing. Your mind is made up.

…

“Your Highness, please wait.”

6:12 AM.

You didn’t know that the smell of flowers could be so vile and revolting.

Sat in the middle of a room with about a hundred bouquets of flowers from a multitude of well-wishers, at six in the morning on the day of your wedding, you gaze up at the huge mural of your new residence in the imperial palace. The pupils of your eyes followed each image on the vast painted ceiling which, compared to your tiny Tokyo apartment, felt like the entire sky altogether. Your eyes follow the image painted by Kanō Eitoku depicting life in the old seat of the imperial system, Kyoto, each blink of your eyes, you hone in on a new aspect of the mural: the mountain of Ryūgatake, the old imperial palace which you were told still existed today, the grasslands surrounding the ancient capital, and the people of Kyoto as they go about their daily lives.

If only those people could speak and were not just plastered images on a lifeless cement canvas to keep you company, maybe you won’t feel as lonely having had to wait for your wedding day to roll by without your husband-to-be by your side.

Sighing, you fall against the carpeted floor, your hands clutching a greeting card from one of your friends who gushed about how you had suddenly become a princess-to-be overnight and how you must be so happy to be engaged to such a handsome man that is prince Satoru Gojo. You hold back your tears, your fingernails digging into the vellum card.

You’ve given up calling the Imperial Household Agency to connect the line to Satoru, they come up with a different ruse each time. “Please, I need to speak to the Crown Prince,” you would sniffle into the line’s speaker desperately.

“His Royal Highness is busy right now in his office.”

“My apologies, Ms. (Y/N), but Prince Satoru is unavailable right now due to [insert name of engagement which is perfectly-timed with the wedding consultations he’s supposed to attend with you here].”

“Prince Satoru is currently away to inaugurate the new building for [insert any imperial charity foundation here].”

But you know all those so-called reasons for his absence were lies, excuses to keep their future consort from overthinking where her distant fiancé could be. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen Himiko around either, that alone should be enough to answer the lingering questions in your head about Satoru’s whereabouts. It wasn’t as if you could suddenly act like some jealous spouse when 1.) You aren’t married yet. 2.) You are the trespasser in their relationship. 3.) You are simply a bandage solution to clean up the prince’s image, someone who had unknowingly been at the right place at the right time. You are well aware of where you stand in the grand scheme of things; that kiss as you drove out of the palace compound that day should have been a good enough reminder that you will never truly be your future husband’s better half.

That title, the one you unwittingly stole from a woman you’ve never even met before, is something you can never truly call your own. You were no different than the typical other woman who would wear the legal wife’s wedding dress like some thief.

Yet how is it that you know all of these things like scripture but you still spent the entire night crying over a man who finds it physically impossible to be in the same room as you? Why did it hurt so much when you saw your fiancé shield his girlfriend from the autumn chill the same way you hoped he would shield you from the many challenging questions during that press conference? Why does it feel like a dagger had been plunged into your chest when you saw Himiko kiss Satoru so tenderly, and your husband-to-be returning the gesture with equal fervor?

You lay on your side, the velvet texture of the carpet somehow providing you some semblance of comfort. What would your retainers say when they come into this room and see the crumpled form of their future empress on the floor, her knees hugged to her chest as she tries to make sense of everything that has happened these past few days? You imagined that they’d probably think you were crazy, and Satoru would probably jeer at the thought of having a simpleton as a wife.

You were only a girl of twenty-three summers, you should be enjoying your twenties by doing the things that you love with the people you love. These sunny days of youth pass by in the blink of an eye, but in your case, you have been totally robbed of it, now being primed to become not just a princess but a wife too. While the former is certainly an intimidating role, the latter is just downright petrifying for someone as young as yourself.

Not a single soul save for the empress went to check up on you last night, the only people you were expecting to keep you company today are the hairdressers and makeup artists to prepare you for the wedding. Of course, the austere members of the Imperial Household Agency are also set to make an appearance in your chambers today probably to make you sit through another briefing session on court etiquette. You glance out the window, it was barely light out due to the winter equinox when nights are longer than daytime, and somehow that made you even more sad than you already were laying down on the floor of your room, desolately alone.

A knock at the door awakens you from your trance and you sit up, arranging your hair neatly and pulling on your shoes. Sighing, you make your way towards the door and see someone who you do not quite expect. He momentarily shifts his attenton to the battalion of attendants behind him, nodding to them. “Leave us alone.”

“Your Majesty, good morning,” your breath hitches in your throat as you hastily bow your head before the emperor who seemed to be more anxious about this day more than you, seeing as he is already dressed in his three piece suit and slacks ensemble with the Collar of the Supreme Order of the Chrysanthemum hanging between his lapels.

The emperor was an enigmatic figure who mostly kept to himself, his chamberlain and main staff often joking amongst themselves how the emperor was really a recluse who had only been born to become the sovereign ruler of a nation by an unfortunate stroke of fate. Your future father-in-law hums in acknowledgement and you are left to wonder if this is where Satoru gets his aloof nature from. “Good morning, (Y/N). May I come in?” he asks as if this entire compound wasn’t his.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

He eyes the many bouquets in the room, sighing heavily as he does, the guilt of putting you in this impossible position weighing on him. He admits that he jumped the gun when the empress offered to have Satoru marry someone who could brighten up his public image from the many blemishes it incurred during the night of the jubilee when he and Himiko were seen together, causing trouble in the casinos of the infamous Kabukichō red light district.. To have you bear the weight of becoming a lamb to the slaughter with this marriage was just downright cruel, knowing that his son will certainly make it his life’s purpose to destroy you, but what choice did he have?

It is the crown that makes the choice for him, he’s been told by his own father.

“Listen, do you have the slightest idea of what you’re about to go through?” the man whom you would call your father-in-law in just a few hours asks flatly.

Of course you do, Satoru has already given you a taste of what your marriage is going to be like. You solemnly nod “I think so,” murmuring softly, crestfallenness is evident in your voice. “Satoru has made it clear.”

The emperor purses his lips as he fumbles with a tulip that had been nestled in one of the bouquets in your chambers, “Well, it’s good that you know. I know my son and I am not here to tell you that everything you’ve seen these past couple of days will get better,” he eyes the telephone, one you haven’t even placed the phone back onto the handset in hopes that Satoru would call you. “In fact, it’s only going to get worse from here.”

You frown, crestfallen. “How so?” you asked, your hand gripping the fabric of your dress. “Are you saying that this is just the beginning?” Truthfully, you were fine with this being the beginning, only if you could have the reassurance that all this will come to an eventual end. But it seems now that this was going to be life as you know it, with a husband who gags at the sight of you and has the innate ability to treat you like you were his personal bedwarmer and doormat.

“Yes,” the emperor says gravely, a dark look crossing his features. “So if you’d like to back out now, now is your only chance. Satoru has made enough messes, a canceled wedding will barely do anything to his reputation at this point.”

He’s right; these past days have only proved that Satoru is probably granting you a way out, maybe that’s why he has done nothing else but to ignore you as a final act of mercy if you ever decide to bail. One tiny kiss on the cheek is nothing when he starts to go missing in the middle of the night to attend to his mistress’s beck and call, when he starts to bring home his mistress for dinner to actively spite you with their relationship, or when he, god forbid, starts fucking in her in your marital bed while you’re away on some royal function.

You could live a full life without him, having barely even known him save for his proclivity to emotionally torment you, but it feels wrong to just…up and leave after all that song and dance in the press opportunity.l Shaking your head, the emperor’s offer is refused insistently.

“I’m not going to give up on him, I won’t give up on our marriage before it even begins,” your eyes bore into the emperor’s own. You’ve promised yourself and the empress that you’ll see this through, if Satoru is going to make your life a living hell, then, you’ll just have to take all his blows like a champ.

“I don’t doubt your willpower, (Y/N). I’m just saying that this might be even more difficult for you than you think,” the emperor warns. “Satoru doesn’t just push back, he’ll run over people who get in his way.”

“Your Majesty, it’e alright. I’ll manage somehow.” you mumbled. “The empress and I made an agreement that if I marry Satoru, I…” you trail off, not really wanting to reveal more than you should, the emperor waits for you to continue, his eyebrows furrowed together.

What would you get if you married Satoru if not unnecessary suffering? And even then, that didn’t sound like a good deal, the emperor thinks to himself. You could have gone on happily with your life, blissfully unaware of the trials of being married to the white-haired prince, you probably would have continued climbing the career ladder before finding someone to settle down with, maybe you’ll have a few kids along the way, and Satoru would also be blissfully unaware of a certain (Y/N) (L/N) existing on this plane of reality with him.

Why were you so committed to marrying him?

“I’d be able to…” you stutter. There was no use hiding it now but maybe you could conceal the truth a little longer, if not for your sake, but for the empress — no, a grieving mother — who met you in a hotel café that night with the weight of the world on her shoulders and asked you to keep the details of this transactional union a secret. “I would…”

The emperor raises a hand to stop you, though he is mildly perturbed at your hesitance to open up to him, he decides that whatever you and his wife were keeping from him does not concern him or the throne and that it is simply a thing that should be left unsaid. He really didn’t want to pry into the details of the contract you agreed to, and since you seem to have already made up your mind, all he could do now is hope that you do not give up so easily on his son the same way he did, and that this choice to marry Satoru would not backfire on you or the imperial system in the long run.

“Stop. I understand,” the emperor nods, his shoulders seemingly slumping in defeat as he is unable to convince you to cut it and run from the horrible fate you were speeding towards at a hundred miles an hour. Maybe Satoru was right to make you out to be an idiot, the emperor frowns. “But…don’t say I didn’t warn you, and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you all the best.”

And just like that, the wedding pushes through as scheduled, having declared before the father of the groom that you weren’t one to give up so easily, or…maybe it’s just your blind optimism talking.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you settle into an ornate curtsy, your foot gracefully tucked behind the other, your hand postured in a cordial handshake with His Majesty. The emperor’s pupils dilate, his mouth runs dry and he feels like something in his body had momentarily stopped working or had broken entirely — he knows that trademark act of obeisance so well — you’ve perfectly captured the image of a younger version of his wife who had perfected royal protocol in just under a year when they got married. She must have sought to teach you everything she knew or rather she was forced to learn by herself when she was in your position in an act of true esprit de corps. And for a moment, he finds himself surrendering to your doe-eyed but unmistakably poised charm, and he starts to become more convinced that you were a worthy future daughter-in-law.

He shakes his head, swiftly snapping him out of his trance, now was not the time for these things. The emperor nods back to return the gesture before turning to leave, just as your attendants are about to arrive to get you ready for the ceremony. “We’ll see you in the cathedral, then, (Y/N).”

But as soon as he is halfway out the door, he turns back to look at you one last time as (Y/N) (L/N), for the next time he will see you, you will then be (Y/N) Gojo, his first daughter-in-law, the first royal bride in centuries who neither hails from a family of politicians nor influential persons alike, the icon of a new chapter for the imperial family.

He sighs, turning back around to face you, having almost forgotten the task he’d been entrusted with by his wife. “I almost forgot. Ijichi,” he calls to his faithful grand steward who is waiting outside your chambers to bring forth a rather special gift he and the empress intended to present to you after the ceremony but he figured now might be a good time. The tall, lanky and sickly-looking spectacled man known as Ijichi bows before you which leaves a strange feeling festering within you, he was carrying a navy blue felt case that seemed so valuable that he had been compelled to wear gloves to prevent his bare hands from touching the fine fabric.

The emperor motions to open the case and your face pales when you see what is inside. “This is intended to be worn by the Princess Royal on her wedding day but since I don’t have a daughter to give that title to, the title will now belong to you.”

The tiara in his hands is a hefty thing, molded entirely from the most of valuable of silvers, it resembled the Queen Mary Fringe Tiara that had been worn by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II on her wedding day, with an abundance of baton diamonds dotting every conceivable nook and cranny. It takes some time for you to adjust when it is placed upon your head, it only weighed a modest 1.7 kilograms, it was much lighter than the many tiaras the family keeps hidden away in the imperial vaults but for someone like you, it is an awfully heavy thing not just in the literal sense but also in the figurative side of things.

As of this moment, you weren’t just an ordinarily forgettable face in a crowd anymore.

“Carry the weight.” The emperor’s voice is commandeering. He steps back, scanning how the tiara looks on you from afar and though it looked awkwardly placed on your head with how you are struggling to balance its weight, you still managed to carry it adequately. “Now…you’re one of us.”

8:55 AM.

“Need some help?”

Satoru looks up to inspect the reflection on the mirror and a sad smile crosses his face when he sees the familiar figure of Himiko leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest as she gazes at her beloved getting ready for his wedding day. “You don’t have to be here.” He begrudgingly fumbles with his collar, unable to meet her eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he professes, despite having immeasurably hurt you these past couple of days instead.

Himiko shakes her head. There was no use in grumbling about it now when just on the other side of the palace, Satoru’s unworthy bride-to-be was being pampered by her many ladies with manicures, foot massages, and practically anything to make you happy while she, the prince’s true love, was condemned to watch him be cruelly given away to someone else. There was a sense of finality with how hundreds of palace staff rushed through the hallways carrying all sorts of wedding paraphernalia to decorate the Chowaden reception hall and the courtyard to welcome the wedding guests.

Satoru frowns when her hands find his collar, she skillfully untangles the ribbon medal and readjusts the silver emerald-studded necklace that came with it.

Please…just one more minute…one more minute with you, Satoru closes his eyes as Himiko’s thumbs tentatively rub his chiseled cheek as if she were memorizing every bump and every curve of his skin before someone else tries to claim that they know every bit of Satoru inside and out. She knows it will never be true, no one can ever know Satoru the way she intimately knows him, not even if he was going to marry another woman. It may be possible for you steal everything from her — the emperor and empress’s favor, the public’s warm approval, the ring that had been fitted to accommodate the size of her finger before it was given to you — it may have been easy for you to pull the rug from underneath her, but it would be difficult — no, impossible — for you to ever claim ownership of Satoru.

He was hers and she was his, Satoru leans against Himiko’s touch, sighing woefully. “I’ll make her pay, I promise. I’ll break her, destroy her again. And again. And again until nothing’s left of her,” he recites the promise, punctuating the words with a kiss every time, as if they were having an illicit wedding of their own, and his words were a marriage vow — the only one that he will honor with every fiber of his being. Himiko bites her lower lip before she slowly nods, appeased.

“But Satoru, marrying her is the only way for you to be restored as heir apparent. Either way, we can’t win without doing this your father’s way.” Her hands leave his collar and she sadly gazes out the window, her narrow eyes glazing over the ancient ginkgo tree at the center of the palace’s vast atrium which was now shedding their green leaves to take on the tell-tale yellow hue as autumn draws near. She always loved the view of the palace courtyard from above, especially in this room where she and Satoru spent many nights proving their love for one another.

Gojo frowns at her melancholia, he comes up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’ll think of something, I promise this won’t last longer than it needs to,” he kisses her cheek, nuzzling it with his nose tenderly.

“I don’t mind waiting, Satoru, I’d wait for you forever, and as much as we both hate her, we need (Y/N),” she spits out your name as if it were rat poison in her mouth. “So, let’s just play along. It’s not like we’re not used to meeting in deserted parking lots at midnight, right?” She offers him a half-smile, reminding Satoru that their entire affair has always been illicit in nature.

It’s not like she was accepted by his parents to be their son’s future consort. They’ve been through this before, hundreds of times rather, even before you came along. They’ve had to deal with so many forces ripping them apart over the past three years from the oh-so-omnipotent emperor who hardly wields any political power to his neurotic wife whom she has called, on several occasions, a bitch.

And yet, together they remained as it has always been, with Satoru cradling Himiko in his arms as he peppers kisses up her neck, sucking at the soft flesh, his hips flush against hers. He does this in front of the window for any unfortunate passerby to see. Hell, Satoru was hoping you’d walk by and see this heartbreaking display and maybe you’ll just run home in your wedding dress with your tail between your legs.

“We don’t have to get used to it, Himiko,” he mumbles into her neck, inhaling her sweet perfume, the one he liked the most. “One day, we won’t have to hide anymore,” he kisses her cheek tenderly, caressing the bone of her wrists which still bore faint marks from the handcuffs that had been wrongfully placed on her with his thumb. “And people can say whatever they want about us, and it wouldn’t matter because I will have been the emperor by then and you, my empress.” He presses their foreheads together, the tips of their noses barely touching in a moment of silence.

After a long while, Satoru lets go of Himiko, his eyes scanning hers as if he were searching for answers hidden deep within her soul. “What is it?”

“I just wish you hadn’t stepped in back there.” It was a thought that kept him awake these past agonizing nights. “Maybe if you just stayed out of my father’s office, this wouldn’t have happened. I was alright with you visiting me in my jail cell, you know.”

“As if I’d ever let that happen,” she sighs when he pulls away to fasten his cufflinks, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened at the loss of his touch. She kisses his cheek, looking at his reflection through the mirror, her eyes alight with adoration. “I promised I’d always be your ally, didn’t I?”

When she and Satoru first met three years ago in the selection for his chief-of-staff, Himiko Zenin, despite coming from the affluent Zenin clan, lagged behind compared to her contenders who aced the exams that tested their knowledge on the law, constitution, history of the imperial system, royal protocol, foreign languages and other aspects that may prove useful for the prince’s right hand. But there was one thing that she had that all the other applicants didn’t have, and she demonstrated that perfectly when Satoru unexpectedly dropped by during the final interviews to speak to each of the candidates himself.

Satoru stared at Himiko with a bored expression that day, his being devoid of any emotion. “Ms. Zenin, it seems you did poorly in all of the exams,” he glances at her file which should have been tossed in the bin by the time she placed last in the jurisprudence exam. “And you’re affiliated with one of the more morally ambiguous families in the country. Looks like today’s just not your day, huh?”

It was true. Having Himiko Zenin as his chief of staff was dangerous from the get-go. The Zenin clan’s head back then during the time of the selection was on trial for graft and corruption. But, there was something Himiko had that all the other applicants did not. At the time, he couldn’t quite put a finger on it but now, after years of selfless service to him, Satoru realizes that it was the ferocious loyalty that hid underneath her then perfectly ordinary shell which he personally refined into the gem of a woman she is now, and she never swore allegiance to the crown but rather to him, Satoru Gojo.

“But, I’ll indulge you,” he reclined against his chair that day, his arms crossed. “Why should I even consider you as my chief of staff? What can you offer me that the others before you cannot?”

Her answer to that question instantly won him over and in that instant, Himiko’s life had changed forever. “Whatever you ask of me, Your Royal Highness, I’d give my very life for you.”

Satoru turns away from the mirror, his lips instantly on hers. His hand dangerously hovered over the hem of her dress. “S-Satoru, what are you doing?” she moans into his mouth as Satoru moves both of them to the bed, he climbs atop of her as she lay on the mattress, her locks splayed over the silk sheets. She knows what he’s doing, this was almost like a film she has seen many times before; this was how tense conversations with Gojo go with him impatiently parting her legs, their hands desperately discarding their clothes until they are left utterly bare before one another.

He wanted to destroy you the same way you destroyed what he had with Himiko. This anger translated into his rough pace. He roughly jostles his hips against Himiko’s, her arms wrapping around him as he buries his cock inside her, his lips covering her milky flesh with dark-purplish bruises, marking her as his.

Call him a sadist but he hopes that Himiko would change into a dress that could flaunt her marked skin so that when you fearfully look around the cathedral, warily searching for her, your heart would break at the sight of the countless hickeys on her neck and collar. He wanted to see you cry the first of the many tears you will shed for the crime of marrying him.

“Satoru…!” she cries out as the luscious feeling of his girth pistoning in and out of her. He grunts as he feels him inch closer and closer to his high. “Mmph—‘Toru,” she whines when he reangles his hips, plunging deeper into her, his arms locking behind hers as he violently chases his release. He’s so close. “I love you, I love you…-a-ah!”

A symphony of pleasured groans falls from his lips, his very being uncoiling as he cums. His hips involuntarily keep thrusting as hot spurts of his cum drips down Himiko’s entrance, mixing with her own release. Himiko frowns as Satoru clicks his tongue at the soiled sheets beneath their connected forms. He groans as he pulls out, sinking into the warmth of her embrace, his still hardened cock poking her inner thigh. “Promise me you’ll only love me?” she whispers as her fingers absentmindedly play with his white hair.

“I promise,” Gojo murmurs into the crook of her neck as he lulled to sleep by her soft, even breaths. “I promise it’s only you…no one else.”

11:45 AM.

Only half an hour left. A crowd of, from what you have heard, 70,000 have gathered on the strip of the main road that the bridal car will pass en route to the cathedral.

“It’s true,” your maid of honor who people refer to as Ieiri says, showing you her phone which showed the many tweets from news agencies, famous personalities and normal people alike about how excited they were to witness your wedding day. There were countless social media posts consisting of yours and Satoru’s official engagement picture and many have taken to hosting their own live-streaming sessions of this monumental day.

“Everyone’s so excited. I wish my wedding would be this big,” one of your bridesmaids sighs dreamily. You manage a small chuckle at her, maybe if she knew of your plight right now, she would probably be eating those words alongside the many petit fours she’s been munching on this past hour. “Look at all those people,” she continues scrolling through her phone.

“It’s the first televised imperial wedding so obviously, it’s a big deal, Riko,” Utahime laughs. “Not to mention, it’s the first time a member of the imperial family would be married in a Western-themed ceremony.” For everyone to see.

One of your newly appointed helpers enters the room, and jogs over to you as quickly as she can in her heels, she has a small jewelry box delicately decorated in an ecru gift wrapper in her hand. “Ms. (Y/N), this is from the prince. His butler told me to give this to you.” You’ve been sad all day and your ladies-in-waiting heave a sigh of relief when they see a hint of a smile on your face, even if it did hold a bit of apprehension.

“Really? For me?” You stand up to accept the small token, careful not to ruffle your wedding dress too much as per the dressmaker’s instructions since the fabric used to construct the piece was susceptible to crumpling. Momentarily setting your phone down on the vanity table mid-text, you graciously accept the wedding gift. Maybe Satoru was starting to warm up to you and that he is now chipping away at the wall he built between the two of you. You hoped that by sending you this gift, this would be the start of something new and better with your husband.

But given how things are, that would be impossible. This was probably just a gift he sent to appease you after many days of effectively acting like you don’t exist.

You open the box and your ladies chatter around you excitedly. “It’s so pretty!” the youngest of your bridesmaids, the daughter of the Japanese ambassador to France apparently, marvels at the pair of earrings. Briefly smiling at her, you then turn your attention to the small letter that was neatly slotted between the groove of the box’s padded interior that held the earrings in place. His handwriting was so conscientiously beautiful that it almost looked like a computer-generated font, there wasn’t a hint of clumsiness in each stroke.

“To (Y/N),

I’m sorry about these past few days. This won’t make up for it, but, I’d like to join you in wishing for a successful marriage together.

– HRH Satoru Gojo”

Your heart slows at the cold closing. He had omitted the words “love” and “sincerely” before his name, but you expected that. If scraps of affection are all you could ever hope to get out of him, you have to learn to deal with it sooner or later; this was your life now, you will always be second to the love of his life. It must have taken everything out of him, and it must have caused an argument to erupt between him and Himiko, to send you this and you understand that he’s also having a difficult time with how things are now but it mattered so much to you to see him try. Regardless if this gift was given to you freely or not, you couldn’t refuse it, even if every voice in your head was screaming at you, reminding you of the horrific scene you saw that day when you caught your fiancé kissing another woman out in the open immediately after you announced your engagement.

“Would you like me to put it on you?” Riko asks. “I’m sure the prince will be happy to see you wear these.”

“You really think so?” you wince when your helper struggles to find your earlobe piercing. “I didn’t know he could be so sweet.” That’s obviously a lie; you know full well Satoru could be sweet, it just pained you to remember that he’s capable being sweet to another deliberately causing you immense grief. Your helper stiffens slightly. She has seen him become sweet before, albeit to another, but she didn’t have to divulge any details and accidentally ruin your wedding day.

She nods shyly, succeeding with the first diamond earring and then the other. She steps away from the mirror. You looked radiant. “Y-yes.”

Noticing her discomfort, you expertly steer the conversation elsewhere. “I see. Well I should probably return the favor.”

You’ve gotten Satoru a wristwatch you and the empress had personally had commissioned by a famed watchmaker that could rival the craftsmanship of a Rolex. It just arrived last night and well, given your current mental state then having taken the brunt of Satoru’s ire the past few days, you couldn’t bring yourself to wrap it. Momentarily deciding if you still had time to have one of your helpers buy some wrapping paper, you realized it would be cutting it too close so you hastily scribbled on a blank dedication card you randomly plucked from one of the bouquets you received. Luckily, some of them had extra cards.

“To Your Royal Highness,

Please don’t apologize, I’m sorry too for being pushy lately. Thank you for the gift, I’ll be sure to take good care of it. Happy wedding day, and I’m looking forward to better days together!

Wholeheartedly yours,

(Y/N) (L/N)”

Reading through it one last time, you affix your name at the end. “You guys are so sweet,” your youngest bridesmaid gushes as she presses a button on the room’s telephone to request for a butler. “I’m sure the prince will love it.”

“Whatever ‘sweet’ means.” You grimace, your unease getting the better of you. A few moments later, a butler peeks into the room. You bound over to him, placing the present in his hands. “Could you please give this to Prince Satoru?” you asked him and the butler looks slightly bewildered at your choice of words. If it was an order, you could have just said so. Perhaps you were still getting used to the idea of having people waiting to attend to your every beck and call.

“Right away, ma’am,” the butler replies obediently nonetheless. “Also I ran into His Majesty’s chamberlain just a while back and he asked me to remind you of the time. Everything’s ready,” he informs you just as he turns to leave in the direction of the palace’s east wing where Satoru's private chambers are. Upon hearing that, the bridal entourage starts to get ready to leave ahead of you, they’ll be going to the venue with a separate convoy from the bride’s since you’ll be driving through some of Tokyo’s major avenues en route to the cathedral.

You watch as they file out of the room in their cream dresses, each one of them, despite having known you for only a little less than half a day, pull you into a bone-crushing hug wishing you well. “Congratulations, (Y/N).”

“Thank you,” you kindly smiled at each one of them as they left.

When you are left alone to your devices, you take one last look at (though you could hardly recognize yourself) the mirror, swallowing harshly, your hand absentmindedly playing with the locket which you continued to wear, ignoring the gracious advice of the Imperial Household Agency’s grand steward to set it aside for today’s festivities as it was uncustomary for royal brides to wear articles of clothing and accessories that did not hold any relation to the imperial family.

Only thirty minutes to go ‘till everything changes. Wait no, that was grossly inaccurate. Everything changed the split second you laid your eyes on him. Since then, everything seems to be a jumbled haze like some sort of psychedelic trance that just won’t end. Reaching for your phone one last time, you hastily search for a particular contact number, your finger hovering over the call button. No, there’s no point, you sniffle softly. Calling her would only make things harder than it already is and backing out of this now is out of the question.

Another knock is heard on the door, but it isn’t as insistent as the first few ones as everyone was starting to get a bit frustrated at you. Did they think you were stalling for time? “Just a minute,” your voice wavers. You just received a new text message from the number you were planning to call.

“We’ll be moving her in a few hours. Will send you her new room number when we get there.”

Bringing the phone to your lips, your heart makes somersaults in your chest when you receive the news. The sacrifice you were still yet to make has already paid off and your ledger of personal favors crossed out with a red marker effectively completing your transaction with the empress. Without even giving you time to text a quick “thank you”, another urgent knock is heard on the door. “Ms. (Y/N), I’m very sorry to interrupt but, we should get going now.”

“I’ll be right there,” you said again, quickly typing another message on your phone: “I wish I was there with her. Please hold her hand for me.” The second it goes through, you quickly shuffled towards the door, your head bowed in apology. You hold your breath as you balance the tiara on your head hoping that it won’t fall as it hangs precariously off-center on the crown of your head, your eyes trained on the ground as the door slides open. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries, I’m pretty patient. Ijichi, on the other hand? Not so much.”

His voice is feather-soft and melodious like a harp string being plucked delicately so that it produces a clear and deep bell-like sound, the very language he chooses to speak with is devoid of neither a shrill nor sharp word unlike the fusillade of orders you’ve been mercilessly bombarded with this entire day. Walk like this, speak like that, don’t do this, and most certainly never do that, you must have gone through a decade’s worth of rules and regulations to follow during the ceremony and even after you’ve said your “I do”’s. Still, you found solace knowing that Satoru is slowly warming up to the idea of cooperating with you, and has even found it in his heart to give you an olive branch of sorts which was now hooped through your earlobes, sparkling under the light like a clear drop of water from the sky.

At first, you naively think it’s him. Did Satoru really come over to see you? While that seemed uncharacteristic of him, the very thought of him voluntarily visiting you planted a sense of relief in you regardless. Maybe he wanted to settle things before the ceremony, to be upfront with you about his intentions in this marriage, how the two of you will be towards one another going forward, and if your luck holds out, maybe he’d finally let you in on his acts of impropriety with Himiko.

But, you would recognize Satoru’s indifferent timbre anywhere, this voice was far too different and seemed much kinder and softer than your fiancé’s.

You slowly open the door to greet your guest, confirming your suspicions as you meet the gaze of a man you haven’t met before. He seems severely unfamiliar.

No, wait. That can’t be it, he may seem unfamiliar but he’s definitely recognizable. In fact, you’ve seen him a few times before, standing feebly next to your fiance during the emperor’s birthday broadcast. Then, it clicks. Wasn't this…?

“Crown Prince Suguru?” you blinked. He’s the only senior member of the imperial family that you’ve never been officially introduced to. Of course, you are on speaking terms with the emperor, the empress and of course, Satoru, but never the prince that idly lingered in their large shadows.

The raven-haired man chuckles deeply at your shocked expression. Clearly, you didn’t expect to meet him under these circumstances, and that caused you to accidentally refer to him as the Crown Prince when that title only belonged to Gojo. He looks at you endearingly, finding you intriguing.

So this was the woman his younger brother is to be married to. Suguru has heard a lot about Satoru’s docile bride-to-be, in fact, he received news of the engagement while he was in Rome, the last leg of his first solo tour in Europe. People were so quick to label it as a pivotal point in the history of the Japanese monarchy and that you are the symbol of change, specifically, they likened you to a camellia blooming in a sea of chrysanths, a breath of spring in the imperial family’s everwinter – alluring in every sense of the word. But, alluring isn’t exactly a word he’d use to describe you seeing as you’ve only just met but, right now, he found you to be so adorably cute that he might just start to believe the things they say about you on the news.

“It’s just Prince Suguru. Satoru’s the Crown Prince.” The gentle correction makes you so flustered that you feel blood rush up to your ears, a tell-tale sign of your abasement. “But you could just call me Suguru.”

“Oh, right, my mistake,” you rub your eyelid, growing embarrassed. “Prince Suguru,” you stressed his correct title, remedying your earlier mishap. Despite you being in heels, you can’t see past him, given that he towered over you so easily so you stand on your tallest tiptoes, trying to peek over his shoulder. “You haven’t happened to see Mr. Ijichi, have you? He was right outside the door a few minutes ago.”

Suguru buries his hands in his pockets. “He just left, you’re welcome,” he winks at you, having sent Ijichi on his way when he accidentally stumbled across him furiously tapping on your door as he was making his way to his car.

Ijichi was…difficult to get along with — he’s short-fused, demanding at some times, and he is what people could call a stickler for the rules — Suguru isn’t doesn’t really want to say nasty words about his father’s grand steward and he’d give credit where it’s due since Ijichi is not just efficient when it comes to running the imperial household but he is also fiercely dedicated to every member of the imperial family.

Still, he couldn’t count the many times Ijichi had to scold him for all the mischief he caused while he was growing up even if his life depended on it. The worst scolding he got from the older man was when Suguru went missing on his fifth birthday, having snuck out of the banquet hall with at least ten pieces of bread stuffed in his pockets with every intention to feed them to the many ducks in the imperial garden’s ponds.

“What?” your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, you were going to get an earful later. “You mean he went ahead without me?”

“It’s alright. You’ll see him later, sure he’s probably going to talk your ear off but he means well, trust me,” Suguru flashes you a reassuring smile.

You look at him, your lip curled into an uneasy grin. “That doesn’t sound like fun,” you bemoaned, having had enough reprimands to last you until your next life. “So, with Mr. Ijichi gone, forgive my bluntness, but am I right to assume that Your Highness will be the one to bring me to the cathedral?”

Suguru accommodatingly holds out his arm for you to hold onto. “You assume correctly,” he says warmly. You expect him to hurriedly lead you down the steps leading to the palace’s main driveway, but he does something entirely different. “Are you ready to go or do you still need more time?”

That was the first time anyone in a kilometer-wide radius has asked you what you want to do instead of telling you what to do.

Suguru watches every small change in your expression. He figured that you must be pretty tired of people treating you like some robot, training you to blindly obey every order perfectly. The jet black-haired prince has only known you for two minutes and his heart is already disintegrating for your current predicament of feeling completely and entirely alone. If he could alleviate your troubles even with just a small act of kindness by engaging in polite conversation with you and actually listening to what you have to say instead of talking over you like most of your etiquette coaches have done all day, then, he’ll gladly tune in to listen to you even as you read through an entire book of sonnets if you ever felt up to it.

Being validated comes a long way, and if anyone understands your plight, it was him and even if he didn’t understand, he’ll do everything he can to try regardless.

“I-I’m ready,” you nodded hesitantly and Suguru doesn’t walk ahead right away and allows you to set the pace as you walk past the line of attendants that bowed to you and the prince as you made your way to the imperial family’s very own Toyota Century convertible which had been custom-made for you.

The open top roof gave onlookers access to see their future empress as the motorcade departs from the Kōkyo Imperial Palace and follows a 4.6-kilometer route that will travel to the St. Mary’s Cathedral, the seat of the Roman Catholic archdiocese of Tokyo. Neither you nor Satoru were practicing Catholics yet, the imperial family has decided that a Christian-themed wedding rather than the ancient Buddhist matrimonial ceremony that is usually done away from public view would make the imperial system appear more accessible to the people.

Suguru helps you into the car, gently arranging the train of your gown so that it doesn’t get all wrinkled. “Thank you, Your Highness” you whisper to Suguru who squeezes your free hand as if to say “you’re welcome”. The car’s engine hums to life the minute the two of you are settled in the backseat. “W-what am I supposed to do now?” you asked, readjusting your grip on your bridal bouquet.

The prince lets out a humored snort, having forgotten that this was your first official function. Showing you the correct way to wave and the right angle to face and bow to the crowd, he watches you closely, allowing you to struggle for a bit before stepping in to help with some encouraging words. “Just keep smiling and waving. It’s just like being onstage, you know.” At the center of the motorcade, six police cars patrol every side of the convertible forming a ring of protection just in case someone in the crowd with ill-intentions would try to harm either you or the monarch next to you.

Countless people erupt in happy cheers at the sight of you and Suguru, some are simply content with waving while others are holding up flowers and tossing them to the front of the crowd barriers in jubilation. “It feels a little more intense than just being onstage,” you mumbled, your eyes landing on a little girl sitting in her mother’s arms as she waves a little Japanese flag in her hand which looked like she made it in her arts and craft class. You awkwardly wave at her, chuckling when she happily waves back, delighted to see you directly looking at her.

“Well, you’re doing great.” He inches closer to you, wrapping a steadying arm around your waist while the other guides your hand, gently angling it in a more prominent position so that you look a little more assertive. “Like this,” Suguru helps you wave in a more continuous manner, teaching you to center the motion by keeping your elbow mostly stationary and allowing only your wrist to subtly move from side to side. “And keep doing what you’re doing. Make eye contact with them; make them understand that you see each and every one of them.”

Suguru watches you bow and wave to the spectators with a proud smile on his face; the motorcade has now reached the Shinjuku area and is nearing its destination of Bunkyo-ku where the cathedral is and even still, the crowd doesn’t appear to thin out. Suguru feels like he’s watching history unfold before his very eyes. He wonders if Satoru had purposefully chosen a commoner to conjure up a classic “love conquers all” romance of his own wedding day, if he did, then Suguru must congratulate him for a job well done. No one has ever come out to see a member of the imperial family in this sheer number, he daresay, not even the empress on her wedding day or His Majesty on his coronation day.

But with you, this day is nothing short of a revolution.

“Your Highness, you’re staring.” Suguru hums, confused, before realizing that he’s been looking at you funny. “You’re still staring,” you said succinctly.

“Oh, sorry.” Suguru says awkwardly and you couldn’t help but let out a slight snort. “What?” he cocks his head in your direction. You were laughing, though brief, the very sound of it brings a smile to his face. “It was about time though. We’ve been in this car for more than fifteen minutes now and that right there is the first genuine act of happiness I’ve seen you make,” he remarks. He was starting to think that you were incapable of smiling which he found a little unsettling since brides aren’t exactly despondent during their wedding day. Of course, what would he know? His little brother had gotten married ahead of him.

You crinkle your nose in mock displeasure. “That’s kinda mean and probably the last thing I’d say to someone I just met…with all due respect, Your Highness.”

Suguru grins at your tiny jab at his character, and to think that he nearly bought into the whole “as demure as a butterfly” thing they said about you in the papers. Make no mistake though, he sees how elegantly ladylike you are, but he also sees how you are so effortlessly spellbinding with your wit translated into a few short but sweet words. No wonder Satoru fell for you and even gave up his vice-like romance with his chief-of-staff to marry you, he thinks to himself. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry that was a bit uncalled for.”

“Oh— Your Highness, I was just joking.” You waved to the crowd of people on Suguru’s side of the car, grimacing when you see a few schoolboys, probably university students with how tall and mature they looked, pretend to blow you kisses. Indulging them, you subtly return the gesture flustered beyond all measure. Everything feels so public now, and you are left wondering about how you could survive the rest of your life like this.

“…I knew that.” Choosing momentary silence, Suguru finally decides to chip away at the facade you were putting up. He could see it in your eyes, you were a cross between scared and unhappy which is clearly normal for someone who is marrying into the oldest monarchy in the world. You weren’t at all what the members of the Imperial Household Agency said of you when you were out of earshot: a sorry excuse of a future empress who is privileged in every way but can’t find it within herself to stop her endless complaining. “Just trying to make you smile, that’s all.”

Shouldn’t your future husband be doing that? You sighed. Oh right, he was probably busy comforting Himiko. She probably needed him now more than ever after everything you’ve done to torment her. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Suguru,” he corrects kindly. “If you’re going to marry my little brother, you could, at least, drop the troublesome title when you’re talking to me.”

Little brother? How have you never heard of this before? You knew Satoru had a brother, but you never thought Suguru would be the older one out of the two of them. If that was the case, then, why didn’t he get the title of “Crown Prince”?

“Weird, huh?” He breaks you out of your trance, as if he heard the question swirling around in your head. “Why is Satoru the Crown Prince and not me?”

“Are you psychic or something?” you playfully teased, slowly growing more comfortable with the jet black-haired prince that sported an Apollo-like smile - warm, and inviting. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Suguru shrugs. “Why? Whose mind do you want to read?”

Satoru’s, you smiled sadly. Maybe by unraveling the inner machinations of your soon-to-be husband’s mind, you could learn to meet him halfway by understanding him a little better; no person is born inherently cruel and while you had your doubts, you know, in your heart, that Satoru is no exception to that rule. “No one in particular.”

“Ah, well, I expected that.” He grinned at how guarded you are, reclining against the plush seat of the car to rest his stiffening back for a minute. The convoy is about ten minutes away from the cathedral now.

You offered him some consolation though, grateful for this light-hearted chat. “Let’s just trade answers next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Himiko thought this day would be horrible but it turns out it isn’t as bad as she pessimistically thought. If she only knew that this was how the love of her life’s wedding would go with him still inviting her to his bed before he gets hitched off, then, maybe she shouldn’t have been so awful towards you who never stood a chance against her. Competing with you would be like making a rival of a rat; it would be unnecessary trouble. Still, even if she had all but won against you (as if you were worthy enough to even become her opponent), that didn’t stop the Zenin clan’s little darling from causing a little trouble today.

Her eyes flutter open to reveal Gojo’s handsome slumbering face, utterly spent from their lovemaking session, their naked forms still entangled together under the cotton-percale sheets. She stretches her supple body luxuriously, and pulls away from Satoru’s embrace earning a small “mmph” of disapproval from her lover. Giggling, she plants a soft kiss on his chiseled cheek.

“Your Highness?” Someone says from behind the door. Taking one last look at Satoru’s sleeping form, she walks leisurely to answer it, clad only in the prince’s shirt which ran above her knee.

Leaning against the door, she answers for the prince, a detestable act similar to a cardinal sin. It was forbidden for a mere servant to speak for any member of the imperial family. In the past, in the Japanese empire’s golden age, a servant who took the words out of their master’s mouth would have their tongue swiftly sliced off. But Himiko is not a servant, nor is she subject to the rules as long as the prince was around. “His Highness is asleep.”

On his wedding day? The butler nods stiffly. “I see. Ms. Zenin, can I trouble you with this? The prince’s fiancé has sent him a wedding gift.”

Himiko doesn’t answer for a long while and a tense silence fills the room. “Fine, but have you done what I asked?” she relents opening the door, the butler’s face turns red at the sight of her lack of modesty. “Having you run my errands isn’t cheap, you know.”

The attendant bows his head, “Yes. She’s currently wearing it right now, last I saw.”

“Good. I’ll be taking this then.” She shakes the box to get a feel of what’s inside, not that it would be anything of high value though given its cheap sender.

Curiosity gets the better of her and she succinctly opens the gift, her eyebrow quirked. A watch. Very typical. She notes how it’s made out of silver and she scoffs harshly. Even if she didn’t chuck it into the trash, Satoru would have done it himself since he prefers gold pieces over silver and he most certainly wouldn’t want to touch anything that was from you given how he loathed the very idea of you.

The attendant gulps when he sees Himiko harshly discard your gift. “Ms. Zenin, don’t you think that giving her that would be taking it too far? You know how the Crown Prince feels about those earrings. If he ever were to find out that it had gone missing…”

She turns her head in the direction of the bed where Gojo was currently tossing and turning in his sleep. “Then, I’ll tell His Highness that his chief butler,” her eyes were aglow with cunning as the butler trembled slightly at her murderous gaze. “Is a thief who stole from the imperial vaults, and if you ever decide to rat me out, who do you think the prince will believe? A nameless no account like you or me?”

It slowly registers in the attendant’s mind that he had been utterly played when Himiko asked him to give those earrings to you via an under the table agreement, it’s not like Satoru prepared a wedding gift for you anyway thinking that showing up to the accursed wedding in itself is a generous gift already. “…You used me…!” he whispers angrily, not wanting to rouse the prince.

Himiko shrugs nonchalantly. “And you were stupid enough to be used for a few banknotes. Now get lost, I’ll just inform His Highness of your voluntary resignation tomorrow morning.”

She closes the door on the rattled servant and saunters back over to the bed, slipping back under the sheets. Satoru sleepily notices the bed dip with her weight, and unconsciously snuggles closer to her, his arms wrapped around her form. She lovingly strokes his disheveled hair alternating between twirling his locks in her index finger and massaging his scalp as if she hadn’t just ruined a man’s life two minutes ago. Her hands reach for the phone on the nightstand and she scrolls through her feed watching a video of the bridal car pulling up to the cathedral.

She boredly watches you step out of the car with your hand looped through Suguru’s arm shyly waving to the thousands happily anticipating this glorious day while your bridesmaids help you with your wedding gown’s train so it doesn’t snag across the concrete steps. It takes about five minutes for the cathedral’s towering doors to open and she smirks when she sees you slowly make your way inside, completely oblivious to the fact that your groom is not at the end of the aisle where you expected him to be and is instead still soundly asleep next to her.

The silence that follows is indicative of the horrific scene that greeted you and Himiko switches off her phone, settling back into the pillows contentedly. Serves you right, (Y/N), she smirks.

12:30 PM.

Funny how you think that you’re immune to awful things that happen to other people…before it happens to you. There’ve been hundreds of stories like this before, but you never thought that you’d find yourself in the long list of unfortunate jilted brides. Your hands tremble as you hold your bouquet of white calla lilies and baby’s breaths. Surely you must have gone blind or something or this was all some sick dream, you desperately search the cathedral room with abject horror in your eyes. It couldn’t be…you take an uneasy step toward the witness as your wedding guests whisper amongst themselves, their hearts filled to the brim with condolences for you.

Something in you jeeringly mocks you as if to chide you for living too long in the forest of your fantasy, dodging every pocket of reality’s sunlight as it shines through the many trees you’ve cultivated with your delusions that this…whatever the hell this is…could miraculously work out in the end. That you stood a chance against all the cards that were catastrophically stacked against you, and that he could give you even just a scintilla of respect if it was truly impossible for him to ever learn to love you.

“Suguru,” you instinctively clutch his hand as if by him squeezing your hand back, you could miraculously be put together again. You were so heartbroken that you didn't even realize that you just called him by his name, forgoing the mention of his venerable title. “…I-I…” you gulp as you feel the dreaded words lodge deep in your throat, clogging your airways with uncried sobs.

“Oh, (Y/N), I’m so sorry…”

“…Where’s Satoru?”

water’s edge taglist: @dummyf @kentokaze @esthelily @mandysfanfics @userbananababes @strawberryjimin13 @snowprincesa1 @naturallyspontaneous @kooromin @gojoist @dcvilxswish @13-09-01 @peachipeachy @iluv-ace @sawendel @helloitsshitzulover @jjuniescuderia @ackermendick @starrylibras @timetobegone @heelariously @idktbhloley @jeon-blue @8aif9sgbsnn @purpleguk @rednezvous @yeseurri @floralsightings @yoheyyosup @dontwannacry04 @dragonladyy

REBLOGS AND INTERACTIONS IS WHAT KEEPS AUTHORS GOING SO SHOW SOME LOVE ✨💕 mwah! see you all in episode 2.5!

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matenr0u · 6 months

Text

Riku: Island Breeze

I was going to put this in my combat analysis, but it absolutely deserves its own post.

In 358/2 days, Riku wields Oblivion/Bygone Memories for the final encounter he has with Roxas. Having called out to him and realized that Roxas really is Sora’s nobody, Riku goes all out to bring him to Castle Oblivion where his best friend is sound asleep, having his memories pieced back together.

During this iconic battle, Riku is specifically vulnerable to Aero: the power of wind.

Why is this relevant, you might wonder. Riku is associated with a fair handful of things: bat wings, darkness, fleur-de-lis, but not wind.

On the contrary, Riku has a little known fondness for the wind. You could even say, it makes him feel nostalgic.

Fair enough, Roxas can hurt Riku with the wind because he misses the island breeze. Neat gameplay detail, no big deal. But if I can compel you to peer just a little closer… Because this is Riku— the guy who spent his days gazing enviously at the sea and the sky and brooding over his dark angsty feelings. This time, it actually is that deep.

In other words Riku is weak to Roxas’ Aero attack because it reminds him of Sora.

Sounds like a reach, right? Allow me to demonstrate.

This passage alone is insane, but there’s more.

While Riku is elsewhere in Castle Oblivion reminiscing, Sora battles Repliku for the first time. This is before they have both been consumed with false memories.

Everything about this exchange is so Riku. It’s all of the real Riku’s messy, complicated feelings dialled up to 100 and Repliku doesn’t even understand why he’s having these thoughts. Sora is clueless of course.

So he runs away, and as he leaves, Sora picks up this…

After defeating Repliku, Sora finds the Aero card. The island breeze. Riku’s memories of chasing each other, rolling in the sand together, of jealously watching from afar as Sora and Kairi grew closer.

The way poor Repliku’s dramatic ass just drops it and runs away lmao

Some time later, following the second battle against Repliku, Sora obtains his lost Oblivion/Bygone Memories keyblade after talking to Namine. Wonder why Namine had that keyblade. Probably just a coincidence…

I’ll close this post with a few more of Riku’s thoughts.

Other Diamonds:

Chain of Memories:

“The wind brushed through Riku’s hair.

I wonder if I really will meet someone from my memories in this castle… I want to meet— Sora. More than Kairi, more than anything, I want to see Sora. I want to see him— and apologize.”

Translation credit: goldpanner, keijitranslates

#kingdom hearts #soriku #riku #kh analysis #soriku nation please Just read #like.#RIKU……

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starillusion13 · 3 months

Text

MINE TO KILL

Pairing: Royal!Yunho x f!reader (ft.Wooyoung & Seonghwa)

Genre: Royal, Mature, Enemies to (?), Smut, Angst

W.C: 11k (don’t ask me why so long)

Warnings: mention of - to kill someone and threats, death, memories, lots of crying, raw sex(don’t do it sillies), nipple play, oral(f), lots of kiss, twins(?), jealousy, fingering, orgasm denial, soft love, crying, scared, mention of torture, open cut with knife, loss of blood, forcing into (a slight dub-con), false visions, going psycho, stabbing who(?) find it out. Regrets and manipulation. Playing with someone’s feelings and emotions.

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Note: Thanks for reading and reblogging. I appreciate all of your reviews and feel free to text me if you want. Spread love to others, not hate. I love Yunho when he is angry and guys finally I have identified my bias in Ateez I think it’s Yunho😃 dw it will change in my next fic lol

MINORS DONT INTERACT UNDER THE CUE!🔞

Let's see our Villain Yunho!

"Even if I go away..." she sharply inhaled and gulped the lump in her throat, turning her back to him to hide the tears which were shaking to fall from her eyes, her fist clutched the locket above her chest tightly in her grasp and bit her lower lip to exhale the silent sob which managed to escape, "...don't forget me. you...you are my everything. Even if we don't deserve this, still we belong to each other and no one can ever change this fact."

His arms wrapped around her shaking body from behind and his nose bumping into her unsettled hairs from the wind earlier. Her soft hands placed over his palm and the rings displayed nicely on his fingers were bumping her strokes on his skin. Just like the way, her every happy moment was getting halted by that only person. who?

His lips touched her backside of the head, the heat of his lips and the breath fanning around the area was making her grip on him tighter.

"are you crying?" his whisper made her heart beat faster. Even if she was going to leave soon, his voice would be the reason to kill her sooner. The heavy and low tone with the concern dripping from every word for her, only for her. It sparkled a desire to live more. She wanted to live. to stay.

"...no..." she closed her eyes and ducked her head down.

He exhaled into her hair causing a shiver run down her body and he kissed the previous place again, "why are you lying, y/n? I said we will get over this and then we will be together for always."

"I don't have time...I have to go...far away...away from everything, from this place and......from you." she whispered the last two words and hearing that he quickly removed his arms and turned her around harshly, she stumbled in her place and still looking down. She didn't want to face him, knowing the effect on him after hearing her statement. She was prepared for this for a long time but couldn't say it earlier.

Or maybe she didn't want to say it. Even now.

He cupped her cheeks to make her look up. His eyes were furious with the anger after hearing the words of her leaving him. He was giving her the hopes to stay forever but still she was hoping to get away from him.

Closing her eyes, she refused to look at him, a tear slid down his cheeks but she couldn't see it and she gripped his wrist, the sleeves of his silk attire adorned with intricate golden embroidery that traced elegant patterns pierced her skin under the hold.

"Look at me, y/n." He was mad, not at her but at her words. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. He kept looking at her when his gaze fell on her quivering lips. She was scared but why.

"Are you scared of me?" His question was broken just like his soul seeing her so weak in front of him.

She quickly denied it by shaking her head furiously. His hands over her cheeks made her still. His eyes followed the way her tongue wetted the dry lips. Her tongue was not enough for her dry lips.

He ducked his head to her shoulder as he whispered, "let me prove you that I can love you and I will protect you forever."

"Please don't say like that. I can't forgive myself for leaving you."

He scoffed, "then don't leave me. Why can't you stay?"

She remained silent. He raised his head and brought his lips to her. Just a breath away, he stopped. His tear line touched her cheek, the liquid sensation made her flinch and his breath so close to hers sent an ache to the heart. Both of theirs.

He murmured, his lips bumping into her quivering ones, "why can't I know the truth? What are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing." You breathed out the words.

He slowly pecked you, "then stay with me."

"I can't."

One hand entangled in the hairline on the back of her head and other resting on the nape, he pulled her into a kiss. He was craving for it. His desire to taste her even though he had tasted her a lot of times before but still felt like it was the first time.

No but he didn't know it was his last time.

A tear drop escaped her eyes. she lost the war to hold back the tears from him. the kiss tasted bitter sweet and yet the melody of the beat was same from her heart, filled with love. sweet for the passion and longingness for each other and bitter for the pain in their heart for the lost hope of living forever.

he stopped the moving of his lips but stayed as close as possible. his lips mixed with their saliva which running down to his jaw, his lips travelled to her cheeks planting soft kisses and moving down to the jaw and kissing the skin which was longing for him. pulling her dress off the shoulder, she whispered his name. her whimpers made him kiss harshly on the exposed shoulder and bit all the sweet and soft spots he was familiar with. her lips softly kissed his ear. their sweet smells intoxicating each other's nose and making them pull towards the other even more. he pulled his head back.

she gripped his wrist tightly, whining for the lost of his lips. his forehead rested onto hers and closed his eyes. she finally looked at him. the moon reflected in her eyes, the breeze blowing silently, the loose materials adorning their body swaying with the wind, shivers running through their skin but the love of each other keeping them warm.

"Don't make me regret for leaving you."

"I will make you regret. I can't afford losing you even if I have all the royalties, money and everything that everyone desire of. it's nothing compared to you. please..." he was sobbing. she had never seen him so vulnerable and weak because he had a noble and prestigious status to maintain and his ambition was always to win.

but somehow he lost, the day he met you.

"call me selfish but I want you to remember me. Remember our each moment we spent together. Remember the things I have told you. Remember our love and our memories...Remember us." she said and cupped his cheeks to make him look directly towards her. she smiled to him and he did the same. she taught him many things and he will always remember them.

How can he just forget you?

"If you die. I will be the one to kill you. I am selfish for you." his tone was very familiar, the way he always shows his possessiveness over her. she sadly chuckled.

"I am not dying...I am just leaving but I'm always yours to kill." she hugged him and he pulled her closer to his embrace.

His to kill.

"Welcome back Prince Wooyoung. It's been honored to see the handsome young man after such a long time. How are you?"

The young man with the black glittery attire with jet black hair, a black coat with the same color bottom with some gold and silver embroidery lining the materials and some tracing patterns on the back and above the chest. A chain attached to the second button to the pocket on his left side. Every gem and jewellery over his body reflecting the sunlight peeking inside the grand hall of the palace. His black boots hitting the carpeted marbled floor and with each step the servants and maid bowing towards him. A sly smile resting in the corner of his lips and hands folded behind his back. Nodding his head causing the muscles from jaw to neck to move tightly, he acknowledged all the greetings and dismissed them.

Taking a glass of water from one servant, he sent a smile towards him with his bright eyes before turning towards the man who greeted him, "Seonghwa, what's with the formal greet? Atleast treat me like an usual person. I hate this royalty enough already now you don't give me more reasons. Well, fortunate enough I am fine and I have something to show you all."

Seonghwa was in royal attire with a white fringed sleeve shirt with a corset and black loose bottom. Piercing eyes with loose black hairs falling over his forehead, few strands sticking to the sweat lining.

The older one laughed to his whines and patted his head, "I am glad to know that you are fine enough after the long trip. Stop being so dramatic now and what's the thing you want to show?"

"We need this other person to be here as well. Talking about him, where is he though? I expected him to be the one standing at the entryway." he said and took a place on one the two loveseats. everything around him was screaming the royalty but he was looking as if a young boy pressured to be the one to carry the crown of a prince.

Seonghwa hesitated for a moment before replying, "He might be busy with works but I hope he will be happy with the news of your arrival."

"what? you haven't informed him about me?" he frowned and placed the glass on the table.

"It's not like that, he-"

"Woo. you are back?" a deep voice echoed to the walls of the hall. the guards behind the door were also attentive to this person, the birds even remained still and the sunlight coming from the window directly falling over him, admiring his black hairs with the black lace around his neck. the black loose shirt hugging his body and the similar jet black bottom admiring his body proportion with the golden embroidery black coat hanging on his one arm. the thumb played with the ring in the index finger and then moving to the middle finger. His shadow was the most dominating one in the palace at that moment and Seonghwa felt intimidated before the look but nodded in his direction when his gaze fell on him.

The younger boy had a wide smile across his face and jumped up to run towards the person who just now announced his presence inside the hall. His arms flew up to wrap around the tall figure who wasted no time to welcome him to his embrace. He missed his love so much. Seeing the excited younger one, he patted his back before pulling apart.

"How was your training?"

"Yunho. I missed you. it was so difficult without you teaching me in a smooth way. they were so harsh and Hongjoong. he was always there to scold me. It would have been better if Seonghwa had went there with me instead of him." Wooyoung made an annoyed face which brought little smiles on other two males.

Seonghwa chuckled, "I am gladly sending this speech to him."

"Oh shut it." Wooyoung glared at him before turning to his elder brother, "Well there is someone I want you to meet."

"Yeah, he was telling me earlier that he wants to show us something. I don't know if I am allowed to be here or not." Seonghwa said in an unsure tone.

Yunho turned towards the older one, "of course you are welcomed to everything. you are like a brother to me and to us." He side eyed his younger brother.

Wooyoung nodded and clasped his hands together to call a maid towards him. The maid bowed towards them and waited for his order. He whispered something to her and she nodded before taking her leave.

"Let's welcome her." He smiled towards them and waited near the door.

"Her?" Seonghwa was confused but having a concern look over his face when he glanced towards Yunho who was sitting on the chair beside the table. He was quiet and gripped the knife tightly in his hold.

Wooyoung just nodded and looked away. Seonghwa sighed and walked towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Where is she?"

"She is in the guest room beside my room to freshen up and I asked the maid to call her here. Before you ask me anything else, I met her during the trip to the kingdom. She was the one who kept me alive after Hongjoong's daily torture."

Seonghwa smiled at him.

Someone knocked on the grand metal door. Both of their attention went towards the door and saw a young woman standing in a light blue gown with sleeves hanging slightly from her shoulder with white straps over it. The dress was plain and the hairs loosely resting on the shoulder and locks falling to the side of her face. Tugging the hair behind her ear, a smile sent out to them.

"Hello..."your soft voice made Seonghwa's breath hitches. Wooyoung skipped his steps towards you and embraced you with his arms.

Hearing the voice, Yunho threw the knife across the room. Seonghwa looked at him and he was both scared and concerned. He quickly went towards him and held his hand when he was about to throw the spoon again. Wooyoung was too distracted with you.

"This is the one I was talking about. Meet my savior, y/n from Utopia."

Y/n...

Yunho stood up and pushed the man away to look at his brother and you. He was furious. The muscles around his jaw and neck turned red with clenched fingers and teeth and staring at them with rage.

"Who is she?" He asked with a dark look.

Wooyoung was confused with his sudden reaction but still introduced you to him.

"Y/n..." Yunho repeated the name, he tasted the word in his tongue and it tasted bitter and sweet at the same time. He scoffed and stood in front of you, "and why are you here?"

You were scared and pleading for help from Wooyoung who gave you a smile. "Yunho, don't scare her. She is new here and we will be getting married soon."

Yunho bitterly laughed, "Marrying? Are you serious? Do you even know her?"

"Yunho...you said you will allow me to marry anyone."

"Anyone but" he glared at you, "her."

He turned away and walked towards the door. Seonghwa followed him in close behind and when his gaze fell over you, you saw hatred in them similarly like the other. You gulped and clutched the man's hand beside you, he patted you.

"Oh I'm sorry I didn't look in my way." You apologized and looked back and you bowed towards him, "your honor, Prince Seonghwa."

"Just stop with your acting already. Tell me why you are here. Don't give false excuses." He was glaring and his words were dipped in hatred.

Since the day you started living in the palace, you have seen the similar hatred in their eyes. Their every stare felt like they were about to kill you.

Even Yunho attempted to corner you one day with a knife in his grip and held it to your throat while he was gripping your other arm tightly. You were scared but he was not fazed by that look but when a tear fell from your eyes, a glint of regret, a flick of sadness occurred in his eyes. He loosened his grip and you managed to run away from him.

You sent a confuse look towards Seonghwa after his question and shook your head slowly, "what are you saying? I'm here with Wooyoung."

"You are with him because now he is the easy catch for you. Leave him before Yunho or I will kill you."

"You won't be attempting this wild thing. It's not what you want to do with me. Think about it again. Can you really kill me?" You stood closer to him and smirked. "Can you live in peace after killing me...after killing y/n?"

You bumped into his side before leaving him there. He sighed in his place.

You were right even if he threatened you, he could not kill you.

But what about the other one.

"What are you doing here?" Your voice made him roll his eyes but still facing his back to you. You sighed and stood beside him and leaned over the railing to pick a flower.

"Don't even dare to touch it."

You played with the flower between your fingers and replied, "but I love these flowers. Y/n loves theses flowers a lot. Look at them, these are so sweet." you turned towards him and he was staring at you. you smiled when your gaze fell on the locket around his neck. his silver bodysuit with wide neck making it highlighted. "that locket has the same flower."

"don't speak about this flower from your filthy mouth." he spat at you and you nodded.

"why do you hate me so much? as far as I know, you really can't hate me or harm me."

"Do you really want to hear? Then listen..." he gripped your jaw and stared at you furiously and you kept a neutral expression, "I hate that you are here. I hate everything about you, your face, your voice, your gaze and...you."

"So basically I need to change my whole being and that's not even possible because people love me for who I am. Well, I can't spend a minute more here to hear your shits so better learn to accept me or leave this place for a while because I will be here for a long time and I'm not leaving soon. I will take my leave for now,Prince Yunho or should I say Yuyu."

"Y/n!" He shouted your name and a smirk appeared on your face before turning your back to him, walking away towards your designated room. "I will see how you are going to stay here. I will kill you before you can even realize. Y/n is only mine."

two days later.

You were shocked to hear the news that Yunho left the palace for a while and he won't be returning soon and no one was aware of his day of return. you leaned back into your chair and sighed.

"Why are you not eating? what happened?" Wooyoung asked you while munching on his food. Shaking your head, you pout and held your fork near your nose to inhale the scent of the delicious food and hummed in satisfaction. he chuckled to your reaction.

"This smells so delicious, Woo. I am craving for it even though I haven't tasted it yet." you took a bite and your eyes went wide with the taste melting on your tongue.

"Then eat it. There's a lot and you can have as much as possible." You nodded to him and started eating other dishes. You felt someone's gaze boring hole on you and you smiled to yourself before locking your gaze with the man across from you. He didn't touch his food but was gripping the juice glass tightly with clenched jaw towards you.

"Here. have this, you haven't started eating anything. are you not happy with me being here?" you offered the side dish to Seonghwa and casted a glance towards Wooyoung who smiled to your gestures and laughed to him across the table.

"Of course not. He is really happy with your presence and he is just not used to being around a girl in this palace. Right, Hwa?"

The older one glared at you before replying, "Woo. I am well aware of how to react to a girl's presence but I don't know how to react to her. I think she has said something to him for which Yunho left so early and didn't even inform anyone when will he return. I hope Mingi sent us some news soon or I will kill her." He stood up, making the chair fell behind and before glaring at your direction, he went off to the garden.

"Seonghwa!?" Wooyoung shouted.

"What happened to him?" you asked with the teary eyes.

Wooyoung pulled you and calmed you down, "Hey, it's okay y/n. Dont be scared. I think he is disturbed with something. I will talk to him."

you nodded and both of you proceeded to eat when he told one maid to serve Seonghwa his food in his room.

It's been one week you haven't seen Yunho since he left that day without telling anyone where he went. You asked Wooyoung about his brother's whereabouts but he was even not aware of anything as well. You both were on the same boat. After the commotion you had with Seonghwa during the lunch, you saw him very less and even if he comes across you, he ignores you as if you don't exist. You felt hurt that two of them don't appreciate your presence but still you were trying to win their heart, win their trust that you were there for a home.

You always wanted to stay with your loved one.

You smiled to the thought of Wooyoung. He was busy with archeries since last morning and you were keeping yourself busy with wandering around the palace and getting familiar with the people.

The servants, maids and the soldiers were all very polite and strict to their schedules while on duty but they really treated you nicely. They referred you as the best princess for the kingdom, Halazia.

"Y/n is always the best one and our dear princess."

This compliment always made your heart warm and forgetting about those two who hate you, a feeling of being loved surrounds you.

When you took a turn towards the stairs, you watched the sun setting down slowly and the dusk welcoming the dark sky to cast upon the palace. But as soon as you looked away to your front, you made eye contact with the elder prince, Yunho.

He is back? when? you smiled towards him and walked closer to him. his expression was neutral, you were not clearly understanding his intention but still you slowly approached him.

"Yunho...you are back. How are you?"

he scanned your face and you noticed his eyes were red and cheeks were red and he couldn't stand properly without a support. when he was about to lose his balance, you gripped his side and balanced him with holding his arm and waist. "Hey, are you okay?"

"What are you doing here?"

you ignored his question and pulled him towards the door. he was quite heavy for you but still you managed to push open the door with him in your hold. He was whining like a baby and hiccupping when you pulled him towards the bed.

Your white night gown was so low in appearance to his extra-ordinary embroidery prince suit. you managed to take off his coat and shoes with the jewelleries. he was repeatedly asking you why you were there and why you were helping him, this and that but you just smiled towards him and tucked him in the bed. his eyes were closed but you offered a glass of water and urged him to drink, first he refused you but eventually drank it and fell to his back. placing the glass on the table, you approached to his side and kept staring at him. his pale soft skin was tinted with red but his dark personality was hidden behind the whining little boy in front of you. His puffy cheeks were urging you to pinch them but you shook off the thought and turned around when he grabbed your hand.

"Y/n...please don't leave me...please stay."

your breath hitched to his request. you couldn't believe he was urging you to stay with him. you gulped but didn't turn back because your scared eyes were fixed towards the door. you hoped someone to enter but neither Seonghwa nor Wooyoung was at the palace for the moment.

you slowly turned around and held his wrist softly. "Yunho, you are drunk. you don't know what you are saying. I should leave now and sleep. you must be tired after returning back."

His eyes shot open and he was crying, he sat up and pulled you on the bed and embraced you in a hug. "please, y/n. why are you doing this to me? please...please don't leave me again. I can't stay without you."

again...

you patted his back, "Yunho...please sleep."

"No. please let me show you that no one can else can love you more than me. I am the only one for you. we are for each other."

"Yunho-"

before you could say anything more, he connected his lips with you. your eyes went wide and even when you tried to push him, he pinned you down. he was hungry for your kiss. biting down your lips, you cried in pain and wiggled under his hold. his tongue explored your mouth, teeths clashing to each other and he sucked your tongue. he was tasting every inch of your corner. his lips kissed your jaw, your throat and his face rested in the nape of your neck, he breathed out and his lips nibbled the area before biting down the area.

"please stop it. Yunho, I...I..." you were sobbing but he hugged you tightly. "y/n please please don't cry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"you are not hurting me but it feels wrong doing this."

he pulled apart and pushed you on your back, your head hitting the pillow and his fingers entangled with yours when he hovered on top of you, "nothing is wrong when I am making love with my y/n. you are mine and I can do anything for you and to you."

"but-"

"please..." his pleading with teary eyes made you nodding to him. you agreed to obey him, to let him do anything to you.

you smiled when he returned to kiss the areas where he bit you earlier. he pulled down your night gown, untying the loose knots and pulling the materials down which were blocking your intimate areas. you felt shy under his gaze. his face was attached to your skin. he gripped your palms tighter, flexing his muscles and veins popping out from his hand, neck and forehead. you eyes rolled back when he plopped a nipple in his mouth and toying with the other. your fingers entangled with his hairs.

He has done this before. Same feelings he has made you feel it again and again but still you love it each time.

"Yunho..."

"Only I can make you feel like this. only I am allowed to love you. Only me. Y/n is only mine. No one can have her other than me."

the way he is saying your name, it felt like he was talking about someone else to you. he was referring someone else. his grunts and groans filling your ears, making you squirm under him. his hand left your breast and move down to undo his pants and quickly remove them. he was impatient and so was you.

he was impatient to have you and you were impatient in fear to get caught by someone, maybe Wooyoung.

he planted a kiss between your breasts, right under the heart. a tear drop fell on the place and he closed his eyes.

his red and hard member dripping with precum toyed with your heat, you squirmed and whined when his tip rubbed your entrance, you moaned out and his mouth left your nipples and bit the soft areas around it. his juicy tortures of the lips and teeth trailed to your jaw before planting a long kiss on your anticipating lips.

"Yunho...please..."

"Have patience, Y/n. Take it slow. We have the time for whole night." his thumb rubbed circles on your clit and suddenly he pushed himself inside you. you cried out with the stretch and the pain but he didn't wait for you to adjust and started thrusting faster and harder. His pace quickening and when you caught his gaze on you. he was glaring at you.

"This is what you wanted, right?" he clenched his teeth and gripped your jaw when you tried to look away. "Tell me. Am I making you feel good?"

Tears falling from your eyes and his glare made you clench around his member. he scoffed when he hit you deeper. your hand gripped his forearm and urged him to slow down but he pinned you down more and wrapped his fingers around your throat.

"You can't say anything? huh? such a filthy one. you are already dumb with this. Tell me that you are mine. Tell me y/n. who do you belong to?"

"Cum...I want to cum...Yunho please..."

"Shut up. I am asking you to tell me who do you belong to? Cant you answer it?" you choked when his grip tightened around your throat and he was putting more pressure on to the side.

"Should I stop?"

"No no. please..." you coughed out and his gaze darkened.

there was a fear in your eyes. you were not sure if he was loving the moment with you or he was trying to kill you but the rage in his eyes was bold than the fire and the gaze darker than the night sky. there was a void in his eyes, you couldn't see any love while he was deep buried inside you but there was a cover of hatred.

when he quickened his pace and it became uneven, you were sure he was near but when he was about to cum, he pull out and spilled his seeds on the sheets. you whined for the lose of his touch but moreover you whined because you wanted to cum.

"you are not allowed to cum because you didn't reply me."

"Please..."

"Leave my room before I will do something to you." He waited and watched you being still in your previous position, "I said LEAVE!"

you flinched to his shout and wrapping the gown around you somehow, you glanced at him. he didn't look to your direction and you left his room. the moment his door was shut, he started crying.

"what have I done? why? I'm sorry y/n...I'm sorry." he clutched the locket around his neck and sobbed to himself.

“Stop running around, y/n . You will fall. Seonghwa will scold me that I have let his precious one to fall down.”

“First catch me then only I will stop.” Her laugh echoed around the hall and the said man watched them playing around the palace. He loved her like his own sister and watching her so happy made his heart warm.

“You are running too fast. Those gowns are not safe to run around in.”

“Just accept that you are a weak Prince, yuyu.”

"Tell me y/n, why are you here again?" Seonghwa's eyes were red and he was holding your hand, preventing you to leave the place and go back to the party. you were cursing yourself to come here alone without Wooyoung and annoyedly, you wiggled your arm from his grasp.

"what's your problem, Seonghwa? I won't tell you anything. Leave my hand. you are hurting me."

"And you are hurting me with false hope. please tell the truth. I am begging you."

"Seonghwa, it's better if you go on your own way and let be on mine."

"Y/n."

"Don't say my name. I am tired of hearing this name with you all behaving so pathetic around me. Just stop with your nonsense already." you rolled your eyes and pushed away his hand.

You caressed your wrist and continued, "you all look really pathetic. how you are you going to manage your whole kingdoms on your own when you all are so weak and giving false threats to a girl."

"Don't test my patience, y/n. Why are you here again?"

"Are you not tired of asking the same question since day one. Stop it. I am with Wooyoung here and we are getting married soon. also after he will convince his brother and I will be the princess of Halazia. Oh wait, I will be the Queen."

he stood close to you and glared, "so you are here to take over this place. To rule this kingdom. You are using Wooyoung to get the access to the core."

"that's an intelligent prince there. Maybe, I'm here for the exact reason." you smirked and held his wrist. "even if I'm here so close to you but you can't even kill me. You won't hurt me because you don't have the courage to do it."

Seonghwa pulled his hand away from you and turned around and when he was about to exit the door, you laughed and said, "atleast Yunho hasn't notice it yet. He is yet to find out the reason behind me being here."

You watched how he harshly opened the door and without even glancing back, he went out. you knew you had triggered his emotions.

but what emotions exactly?

"And you thought I won't notice?"

You flinched to the sudden dark voice from the stairs. The ceiling lights and the lamps had a warm radiant but those lights were still piercing on your skin. As if the hatred inside you was adding to the heat of the lights.

Your piercing eyes reflected the shining light of the light chain decorated on the railings. You gripped the glass tighter in your hand, feeling the anger rising in you to watch him descending the stairs.

He should slip a step and fall from the stairs in front of you.

The boots hit to the marbled stairs slowly, the walk was slow, too slow to let you hear each sound of his boot precisely and clearly.

Your glares directed towards him made his corner of the lip to tug upwards slightly. He watched you intently and noticed your slight fear which you were trying to hide it but still couldn't. At this point, the grip on the glass could have broke it easily but somehow it didn't break.

Maybe like the hatred inside you was enough to burn him but the slight fear was more powerful to hold it back.

"Why are you here?" You hissed.

He eyed the glass in your grip and walked forward to stand a bit too close to your liking. you were glued to the ground. you wanted to run away but still something inside you was forcing you to face, face him like the royal you are. are you strong enough? maybe not. he is more powerful than you. both in morals and money.

"If I say...for you?" he said and leaned forward to inhale the perfume. he hummed near your ear, "same sweet smell. It always remind me of the night. don't you miss the day?"

"Never. why can't you just forget about it?"

he chuckled and stood straight, "oh it's too perfect and interesting to remember. how can I just let that sweet moment slip through my mind. I am carving it on a campus to make it remember even if I have amnesia one day."

you gritted your teeth and raised the glass to throw the wine at him but he was quick to get a hold of your hand and took away the glass from you. you glared at him but he just smirked at you and brought the glass to his lips, maintaining an eye contact with you. you could hear some people passing by the passage through outside the main door of this hall in the backyard of the palace. you glanced to the direction of the door and hoped someone to enter so that you could escape his grip because your strength was nothing to his.

the voices became distant and the hope inside you died down with the rising of the bubble of fear.

"I hope you soon have the amnesia and so that I can kill you by myself." you wiggled your hand under his grip.

he ignored you and asked, "have you drink this? did your lips touched the glass?"

"why? will you drink from it now?"

he poked his inner cheek and smirked widely, "oh! I am craving for the lips from that night and if you don't give me the honor to devour them again then I have to do it in this way."

"Yunho, mind your words." you threatened him only to get a loud laugh from him. he threw his head back and amusedly watched his grip on your wrist. the image from that night flashed in front of his eyes. the same way you were whimpering under this hold and begging to him.

"But you loved every words from me when I was choking you." He cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

"Please stop it."

"And if I don't?" He loosened his grip on your wrist and as soon as you stepped backward, he harshly grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him. "Does Wooyoung know about this?"

"About what?" You hissed at him because the grip was leaving red marks on your arm and the fingers on his fingers were pressing on your skin.

The touch was filled with hatred or love?

It's visible that it's all about the hate for you.

"About us? The love we shared that night. The way I made you feel good." He leaned to your level to whisper into your ears, his breath hitting your nape and you shivered, "the way I marked you mine. When in the first place you are always his."

"There is nothing called us. That night was a mistake. Don't talk about it again. I don't want Wooyoung to know about it. I am never yours."

He sipped the wine from your glass and closed his eyes, humming in the taste of the liquid. You watched him in disgust. Gulping down the glass, he noticed your glare.

He paused to stare at the door and when the voice of the person on the other side became distant and he noticed that you were distracted.

He threw the glass across the room and glared at you. You flinched to his sudden action and his grip tightened.

"y/n...y/n...y/n..." He sang your name and his voice and the name coming out from his mouth sent a shiver down your spine. He noticed your little gulp and harsh turned you around and flushed your back against his chest.

"Y/n and Yunho...isn't our name fit nicely together?" He darkly chuckled in your ears. His one hand grabbing your arm tightly and the other placed on your throat. The hand was caressing the skin around when he suddenly squeezed it.

Your choking sound made him smile widely and in satisfaction he whispered, "it will be so fun to kill you, y/n."

You scoffed, "is that a threat?"

He chuckled amusedly, "why? Does that sound like a compliment?"

He loosened his grip around your throat, you coughed out and took deep breaths but he held you against his body.

"Leave me, Yunho."

"I will only leave you when I will kill you." He gripped your jaw and made you face him. His glares were strong, his muscles tight against the jaw and neck and the gritted teeth hissing at you.

"Then kill me."

"Y/n. Y/n, where are you?" Wooyoung's voice echoed around the place and you both could hear it. You broke the stare with him and looked towards the door when the door was pushed open.

Yunho changed your position and placed his hand on your cheek and other still holding your arm. Smiling at you and you stared at him in confused silence.

Why is he suddenly acting like this?

Wooyoung entered the hall and found you either Yunho, he smiled at your form who was held by his brother. You both were facing side to him. Yet to notice his approaching steps towards you.

"There you are my love. What are you doing here, y/n? That even with Yunho?" He was smiling all the way and when he reached near you, you pushed Yunho's hand and hugged Wooyoung.

Wooyoung smiled and patted your head in his embrace and with confused looked at his brother.

"What happened to her?"

Yunho chuckled, "she lost her balance in this dress and her glass fell from her grasp so I was just helping her out."

Wooyoung nodded and felt your hug tightened around him. You clutched his coat tighter and closed your eyes in anger.

These brothers were always different from each other. Wooyoung was in red attire representing his love and passion for you. Whereas Yunho in black attire radiating luxury and power in elegance shooting towards you.

"Are you okay, y/n?" You nodded to his question and he urged you to stand straight. He signaled his brother that he would like to leave the place with you to spend some time and his brother nodded. He guided you towards the door and you followed him either your hand entangled with his and looking down. You could feel a stare burning hole on your back but you didn't look back.

Yunho's eyes followed till you both exited the door and took a turn. As soon as you were out of his sight, he grabbed his hairs and pushed back in annoyance.

"I will kill you, y/n." He clenched his jaw and glared at the way from where you left with his brother.

"Always remember that you are mine." He exhaled heavily and clenched his fist where his knuckled turned white and the palm was almost flushed red with slight edge of the nails digging into his skin.

"Mine to kill."

y/n is his.

"Aw you are looking so pretty. My beautiful one. this flower really suits you. I will make a whole palace with a garden of these flowers just so you can look this mesmerizing when playing among them." He said and hugged her tight.

"you love me too much. even if it's too cold out here but your words are making my heart warm." she said and turned around to put the flower behind his ear, "this look good on you. I love this flower and I love you so we both will live together in that palace."

he smiled at her and kissed her lips, surprising her with his sudden action. she was used to his playful nature but every time still he managed to surprise her. she was too naive for him and he swore to protect her at all cost.

"I love you, y/n."

she smiled and kissed him, murmuring into the lips, "I love you too, Yuyu."

Yuyu...

"y/n...where were you for one whole week? you didn't come to meet me for so long. Do you even know how much I have missed you?" she shook her head to the whiny man who was sitting in the middle of his bed and staring at her like a lost puppy who missed his owner.

"Am I your owner? you are a grown up man so learn to behave like that. Where are the etiquettes of a prince?" she folded her hands and raised a brow while questioning him. She yelped in surprise when he pulled her on his lap.

He was only covered in blanket and she knew if she just pulled a little bit of the corner, she would be greeted with the authentic sight of his perfectly pale and muscled body with his veins patterning under the skin. she wet her lips with the anticipation of what was coming next. The loose materials hugging her body was being removed slightly to get a better access to the places he desired. Gripping his shoulder, eyes closed, she bit her lips to hide the effect of his every touch on her.

"Let me hear you, my princess."

she shook her head and when he bit the back of her ear, she moaned out his name and he lightly chuckled into her ear. It was as if her body gets pulled to his lips like a magnet. Everytime, if the tip of his finger touches her, the body ignites with the desire to get railed by him. she felt embarrassed with the thought and he was well aware of it and he loved to tease her about it.

Pumping the breast over the loose material somehow hanging from her body, his ears were blessed with the whines and moans from her. To tease her and push her to her limits, he grunted in her ears and when she tried to push him down on the bed, he laughed at her impatient state.

"Come on. Don't tease me. Please..."

"Y/n...you won't be ever leaving me, right?" he asked her while he was laying her down slowly, kissing the shoulder blades and marking her wherever he pleased to and then kissing away the pain. he brushed back the hairs from her face and smiled to her when she returned him the similar look.

"Never...you are not getting rid of me unless you are the one pushing me away."

"You are always pretty, y/n."

"Of course, for my handsome prince, I need to look always my best or it won't be fair." placing her arm around his neck, she pulled him into a kiss. he didn't mind but let her kiss him. he was rather enjoying her desperation to feel, to have him for herself. he smiled into the kiss and his hands toying around with her heat and breast and pressing the clothed nipples, making her gasp into the kiss. She pulled his hair and apart from the kiss and glared.

he laughed at her silly face, "what happened? desperate? for me?"

"Yes..." she breathed out, "show me how much you have missed me all these days. her hands travelled all over his back and caressed the bare skin. Taking a hold of her hands, he pinned them down and his look darkened with lust but his every word and action was filled with love.

"Be ready for me princess."

"Always for you…Fuck..." she gasped out and pressed her thighs tighter around his head. "that feels good..."

"Like this?" He hummed against her heat and nuzzled his nose on her clit making her whimpers louder and he was enjoying the sight of her squirming just under the effect of his tongue.

"Uh yes...yes... Like that...please" she replied breathlessly and gripped the sheets tightly.

"Yuyu..." she whimpered. "It feels so good... It's driving me insane..."

"Such a dirty one, aren't you, princess? You know I go crazy whenever you call me this name and still you are saying it now." he murmured against her throbbing ache. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No!" she exclaimed, thighs tightening further around his head. the pressure around his head made him gripped down her hip and continued with his abuse.

"Mmm..." He hummed as he added a finger making her cry out with the cold touch of his rings to the heat, "you are so delicious..."

"Ahhhh..." she moaned loudly when she cummed inside his mouth. he gulped down the liquid and licked the area with his hot tongue. he slurped the juices as if he was starving for all these days.

"Yuyu" she whimpered, "No more please...I need you"

"Yes... have patience, princess" he groaned and got up, hovering over her, squeezing her breasts harder. his dark gaze scanning her body, he smirked that she was all displayed like that and flushed red in front of him because of him, for him.

his fingers rubbed her leaking and aching heat and scissored it before he let her feel the tip of his hard member hitting her entrance. the precum dripped on her heat, mixing with her stained walls from her previous orgasm. He pulled back his hand from between her legs and sank down his hip onto hers. she gripped his arms and cried out with the stretch and his lips kissed the tear line and lips hovered over the closed eyes.

"Look at me love. Let me see those precious pearls."

she snapped her eyes open to find him already staring at her with amusement filled eyes and his hand was caressing her face and patting her head, whispering soft and encouraging words to forget the pain and focus on him because they were making love and love can be gained with a little pain. she grinned as she watched him throw back his head when he felt her clenching around him. he groaned and pushed his his hip faster and his muscles were flexing under the dimly light of the room. his fingers traced over the curves of her body and her nails dig into his back.

She snaked a hand behind his head to pull him down for a kiss. The heated moment when their lips met, their bodies trembled in anticipation and the each little of their touch made them whine. he ran his fingers through her hair, stroking it gently. His lips gently grazed and his tongue licked her lips and she smiled. parting her lips slightly and felt his tongue slide against hers. His tongue traced along the every inch of her lips before sliding inside, tracing the outline of her teeth. His lips wrapped around her desperate tongue and sucked onto it.

She let out a muffled moan as he slipped a finger to rub her clit and push her to the edge. His finger slid inside of her and collected some juice. her breathing became heavier as her body heated up. With every flick of his tongue, every movement of his fingers, her arousal grew stronger and she whined. he could feel her trembling form under him, squirming and becoming weak. he pulled back his finger and urged her to stay still.

"open your mouth and eyes on me." she obeyed his command and soon he pushed his finger inside her mouth. he smirked when he watched her sucking his finger for the dear life, her back arching with the approach of her orgasm and he was near too. she grabbed his wrist and he knew she wanted to cum and he gripped her jaw and nodded. He glanced between her breast and smiled.

she screamed with her climax, the walls clenched tightly and he felt her cum coating him. Waves of pleasure washed over her as her orgasm exploded within. closing her eyes shut tightly, she trembled uncontrollably.

"you look more beautiful like this, y/n..." He moaned and thrust faster, "mine. you are mine y/n...tell me who you belonged to....tell me."

"You...it's only you, Yuyu" she whimpered as her palms clutched tightly under his strong grip. "only yours, I can't take it anymore."

"Thank you love." He smirked. "That means I am making you feel good that no one else can."

"You like it when I fill you up, right princess?" he whispered into her ear. "Do you like feeling me deep inside of you?"

"yes yes..." she moaned out. "You feel so good Yuyu."

Soon he bottomed out inside her, she had felt his hot liquid filling her inside earlier a lot of times but every time, he felt so good. He made her look at him when he filled her with his seeds and the blissed out expression made him hummed in satisfaction. they both were tired and he slowly pulled himself out and fell over her. he pecked her lips and rested his head on her chest before planting a kiss on the place just under her heart between her breasts, fingers flicking the hard bud in front of his eyes. she whined and hit his hand. his laugh vibrated on her chest making her smile.

"I love you, Yuyu...we will always make love like this. I want a happy future for us where no one can harm us and we will be enjoying our life with each other." she played with his hairs and stared at the ceiling, the flames from the chandelier lighting her eyes. his eyes were reflecting the flames from the candles decorated on the various shelf.

"Love...we are always together...in every universe...in every life. I can't lose you ever. No one will take you away from me. You are mine. I love you, my princess y/n."

His princess...

Then why are you his enemy now?

Does he not love you anymore?

what happened to him?

"what happened, y/n? searching for Wooyoung?" Yunho laughed in the end of his statement and you paused before retorting back at him when your gaze fell on his hand, holding a knife. you gulped and stepped back. you tried to run towards the door but Seonghwa closed it shut and stood before it with folded hands and a wide smirk plastered on his face.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked you and chuckled.

"Move. I need to leave. Wooyoung is waiting for me." you said annoyedly and he rolled his eyes.

Yunho laughed again and it was pissing you off and you turned around to glare at him. he raised a brow and held a glass. before you could contemplate his moves, he threw the wine towards you, making you drenched and your eyes went wide.

"What the hell you are doing?"

"Trust me. Wooyoung is not waiting for you and even if he is waiting for something then it's to hear the news of your death." he glared at you.

You scoffed, "and that won't be happening today. You...you can't kill me. You can't kill your Y/n." you smirked and wiped off the liquid from your face. why the hell you were in that situation. you were hoping to atleast get someone out from between these two psychos but who was there to help you. No one. Wooyoung wants you dead.

What is going on?

"Oh he definitely can kill you." The man standing in front of the door said and glared at you.

your confused look went back towards Yunho who was playing with the knife between his fingers. you gulped how his fingers swiftly swiveled the knife. your mind was storming with the thought that he won't harm you, he can't kill you.

you are his first love. his only love.

"Yuyu..."

"Don't say that name from your filthy mouth. I will cut off your tongue first."

you flinched to his shout and the choice of his words sent a shiver. he approached to your trembling form. he watched how tears were falling from your eyes and you were trembling under his gaze. the memories of you being in the same state before flashed in front of his eyes. his index finger wiped off a tear-drop. he watched it intently, he bit his lips to prevent his weakness to come out. His anger rose inside his body and furiously he watched how your eyes were shedding tears.

He stroke the knife up your arm and slashed it. your forearm burned with the cut and you shout out making him smirk and throw a dirty look at you.

"Yunho! Are you crazy?" you pressed over the cut to prevent the blood flow out from your cut. you were scared and annoyed. how can he hurt you like this? he never liked you getting hurt. then why?

he again slashed on your other arm. you cried out in pain. you fell on your knees and hoping him to stop. Seonghwa was watching the whole incident but never stepping in front to stop him. He was somehow satisfied with the situation unfolding in front of him. you were sobbing and wishing to get away from him when he grabbed your jaw harshly, he was grinning at you.

"I am crazy. I am crazy for Y/n."

"You should not hurt who you love." you said between your hiccups.

"and how about you realize the same thing?" he grabbed your hair and pulled it backward, you hissed in pain and his eyes travelled all around your face. every inch was similar to that Y/n whom he loved, whom he cared. the one who taught him the beauty and flaws in life. the one who gave him hope to live. the one he treasured. the one whose memories he kept safe. the one whom he can't ever forget.

but the heart was not same like before.

that y/n had a warm and liberal heart and this y/n with a cold and greedy heart.

he scoffed and traced the knife with the lining of his face. your fearful eyes looking back at him, begging him to stop but he was nowhere near a pause.

"Please. stop it. it hurts."

"it hurts her too." he replied quickly and you gulped. the tip of the knife pressed onto your cheek, slowly piercing it. "she was begging to stop too."

"who are you talking about?" you sobbed and continued, "you should only think of your y/n. I'm sorry I left you but please we can talk about it. I will explain."

"There is nothing left to talk about. she left me. she left me forever. she is not coming back." he said and slashed his knife across your cheek. you let out a shrill cry and he smirked to the satisfaction. "maybe you have the same face but you cant be her."

"Yunho...I'm still your Y/n."

"you are not her!!!" he chocked you with his fingers putting pressure enough to make your vision go blank for a moment, "You are not Y/n...Y/n is dead. Sana, you have killed her."

"Sana, you can never be y/n even if you are her twin sister." he pushed her back. She coughed out and caressed her throat before glaring back to him. the blood flowing out of the cut and her throat was marked with red fingerprint.

"Yu-"

"are you still pretending to be her?" he placed the knife over her chest. "she cried to me. she cried to me that she didn't have time. she hoped for me to save her from her decisions. she said her goodbye to me but I thought just like the other day, she will again come back to me."

but she never did.

"why you had to kill her? you envied her so much that you had to erase her forever." he stabbed her thigh, her body jolted down and let out a shrill cry again, satisfying his ears. "she was crying for you to stop but you didn't listen."

he pulled out the knife and stabbed again, "you wanted money. you wanted this royalty. I would have given you everything but you killed her. That day I left all of a sudden because i didn't want you to know that I went to Utopia and I didn't expect that I will get to meet y/n. Not her but her last letters to me. Her aunt really kept them safe but she couldn't save her."

"stop.." he twisted the knife. "please..."

"she begged for you to stop. You didn’t. She promised you that she will not return to me that she will help you to get everything you want but you didn’t listen to her. You hit her, you hurt her, you tortured her and then killed her.”

“If she was alive then I could not have approached here. I used her to get to you.” Sana still managed to smirk, “I wanted you from her and this whole royalty.”

He pressed Sana’s wound on the arm and she hissed. “You didn’t only use her to get here but also you used my brother’s feelings. You played with his emotions. I want to torture you like you did with her but my patience is gone. I just want to kill you right now. Right here!”

He raised his hand with the knife, blood dripping from all the wounds he created earlier. Sana closed her eyes when he was about to stab her on the chest but he paused.

Sana opened her eyes slowly and watched that he was still in his previous position. “Before I kill you. Just know one thing. She didn’t die because you have stabbed her. She died because she was betrayed by you whom she loved so much. Her twin sister killed her. She felt losing the war with herself.”

Those were the last words Sana heard before he stabbed her.

he stared at her hooded eyes, "from today I will believe that I have killed her because she left me. I have killed my y/n with my own hands." He repeated the action so many times that Seonghwa ran towards him and hugged him from behind, both were crying but neither of them knew how to comfort the other.

Seonghwa patted his back before standing up and called out the guards. No one would dare to say anything to anyone about this matter but his heart. He was staring at the body, blood oozing out from the heart, making a scar on the chest.

“Why you always kiss on the scar above my chest?” You asked him smilingly.

He again kissed you at the same place and nuzzled his face between your breasts, “it reminds me of the day we met. You saved me from the fire and got hurt. I will kiss it every day to let you know that this is not a scar but a seal to our bond, just above it is your heart beating for me.”

“For you, yuyu.” You planted a kiss on the top of his head.

For him.

“Yunho…” he heard a soft voice calling out his name, he didn’t look up but staring at the floor at his hands, he killed her. The blood on his hand felt like yours. The knife fell from his hand.

Did he kill her? Or you?

“Yuyu…” he looked up instantly. That name with that sweetness in the voice. You were standing in front of him. A sweet smile and sparkling eyes staring back at him, “you remembered me.”

“Y/n…you are really here?” He asked you in a shaky voice.

“No…” she approached him and kneeled down and held his shoulder, “but I want to say that I really love you. I still love you. I am here with you all the time. Don’t feel lonely. We are still together and I still love to see you smiling and laughing like before.”

“You are here. You are lying.”

“I’m here but to say the final goodbye. You promised me that if I die you will be the one to kill me and look you killed her because I left you. I should have said you everything but sorry. Let’s meet again in our next life.”

He grabbed the knife and attempted to cut his wrist when you held his hand, “don’t be stupid Yuyu.”

His body was aching for her touch but still her touch felt distant, just a wave of air. A piece of memory.

“No let me kill myself. I will meet you again and we will be with each other forever.”

“Please….Yunho…I am already far away from you now but don’t kill yourself. Stay for me. I couldn’t live enough to know the beauty of life but you will live for me so that you can tell me everything when we will meet again.”

“Y/n…. I can’t.”

“Yunho, please for me…” tears fell from her eyes “I will wait for you.”

Yunho kept his eyes open because he knew if he blinked a little, the worst sight he had to notice. You held your hand over his eyes and felt his wet eyes. You kissed his forehead “Goodbye…”

Yunho opened his eyes and tears flowed down his eyes, “y/n…”

You were nowhere. He was all alone in that grand place. It was all his imagination that he read in your last letter for him.

“Keep this locket with you. Even if I’m not with you then also I will feel you are safe with me. This will hang over the scar. I will shield it.”

He gifted you the locket but last day, you gave it back to him and that’s why maybe you died.

He killed you. You were always his. Your everything was his.

You were his to love. His to care. His to protect.

His to kill.

And he will live for you. In the end he was always yours since the day you saved him from the fire in your childhood.

[a reblog in appreciation and your reviews will be greatly appreciated. Please let me know if you liked it or not.]

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