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jk97 · 2 days

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Unprofessional Attraction | THREE

♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 23.6K ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff, ANGST, and explicit content (mdni), teacher/student relationship, some other members are featured, drinking alcohol, bigdick!yunho, pet names (angel, pretty, sweetheart, etc.), possessive/obsessive/toxic behavior, cunnilingus, hickeys, fingering, praise, unprotected sex, creampie(s), jealousy, blackmail ♡ A/N - I’m soooo sorry this took me forever to write (it’s so many words ahhh 🫠) but hopefully this is worth the wait. The next part will be the finale of this series. This also isn't beta read so I apologize for mistakes ahhh. I love ya’ll, thank you for your patience friends, STREAM GOLDEN HOUR ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“You could at least try a little harder to pretend you want to be here with me, ____.”

Wooyoung’s antsy fingers pinch at the straw of his drink while he watches you thumb away at your phone. Going back and forth with your friends in the group chat about Jongho’s upcoming recital is the only thing calming your nerves this afternoon. When you had agreed to his ruse, you didn’t realize you were signing up for public humiliation. Those two words might be a bit dramatic, but sitting together in the dead center of the campus food court has you immensely anxious either way. This is entirely way too public…

You don’t mean to offend him with your embarrassment. It’s not like Wooyoung isn’t handsome; in fact, that might make things worse. It helps draw in too much unnecessary attention from other women, and it feels as though there might as well be a spotlight circling your table. Luckily, Yunho has a lecture through the next hour today, so you’re not too concerned on that front. Regardless, your first fake date with him is starting to be nothing short of awkward.

“You can’t even look me in the eyes?” He inquires further.

“I’m sorry,” you find it within yourself to apologize, placing your phone face down on the table and sliding it away. To offset your anxiety, you put new effort into inspecting your food and preparing to finally eat it. Anything to just keep busy. “This is just a little out of my comfort zone.”

“Pretend I’m Mr. Jeong if that makes it easier,” he suggests, but his tone hangs on the edge of condescension. It’s not all that intentional, but he’s poking the bear. “I have access to the grade book all the same, you know.”

With narrowed eyes, you try to let his wisecrack roll off your shoulder, “That’s not a very funny joke.”

Continuing to avoid his eyes, Wooyoung watches you put all your attention into eating the meal he’s bought you so that you both can pretend to be on this lunch date. He was gracious enough to offer to pay for any meals you share moving forward, as long as it would make things easier on you while being a part of his plan. That’s what a real boyfriend would do anyway, right? Though, right now you’re not treating him like a boyfriend— you’re treating him like some kind of dirtbag with an open wallet. He can feel his own appetite slipping away slowly but surely.

“What are you both anyway, fuck buddies?” He asks a little too bluntly.

It might be a bit muffled, as your mouth is stuffed with food, but you still manage to retort, “That’s none of your business, actually.”

His increasing annoyance is evident by the deep exhale he tries (and fails) to suppress. Wooyoung doesn’t want things to be so tense, but you’re not exactly making it easy. He supposes you might gain some sympathy for him if he explains his troubles. You seem like a genuine person despite any contempt you might hold for him right now, so he figures you’ll be understanding. He needs to make conversation in some kind of way, anyway.

“How about I tell you a bit about my situation then?” He finally offers. You hum to let him know you’re listening, so he continues, “She and I were together for the last three years, but then she broke up with me a few months ago. And over something so stupid, really.”

“Go on,” you encourage, swallowing the bulk of food in your throat.

“Well, I need a master's degree to get the specific job I want… After telling her, one of her friends got in her ear about how me staying in school might hold her back after we graduate next year.” Wooyoung tries to sound indifferent to her friend’s heavy influence on her decisions, but the look behind his eyes, as he glances around to see if she’s in the area, says otherwise. It’s full of bitterness and hurt. “She wants to travel for a year before getting a job, and they told her I’d stress her out too much with a long-distance relationship. She took that to heart, for whatever reason.”

Would it be a lie if you said you didn’t support a tiny bit of actual pity towards Wooyoung? Probably. Knowing what you know now, you ponder more about the tight situation between you. He’s an intelligent guy, and you’re sure he knows exactly what Yunho is to you with the way you get touchy about his name even being mentioned. That’s why he’s using someone else’s happiness to retrieve his own once more. While that’s not exactly just, you’re aware that love makes people do crazy things. Moreover, you know you in particular can’t judge anyone after doing what you’ve done to achieve Yunho’s attention.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” is all you can reply, but it’s genuine.

Before you can process what’s happening, Wooyoung suddenly reaches across the table and links his fingers with your free hand in an act of endearment. Your cheeks prickle with heat, not from being charmed, but from more humiliation. This is embarrassing, suddenly having to do public displays of affection with someone you don’t even like in front of whoever is looking hard enough to notice.

“Don’t turn around, she’s here with a friend,” he mumbles, and then an affectionate smile tugs at his lips. It looks fairly genuine… He is much too good at looking charming on the drop of a dime. “Do you think it’d be too corny if we wore some matching outfits a couple times?”

You hesitate for the briefest second before squeezing his hand with false affection and leaning forward on your elbows to seem more interested.

Nobody is close enough to hear you reply, “Are you trying to win her back or get her to block you? Because I honestly can’t tell.”

“It’s just a little joke. Laugh a little, I beg,” Wooyoung pouts.

He leads your connected hand to fondle his cheek, trying to inconspicuously guide you through the motions. If Wooyoung didn’t know any better, he would assume you’ve never been on a date in your life. His hopes were much higher than this, as you’re much too pretty to be this stiff when it comes to showing affection. It almost has him second-guessing whether he’s right about you and Yunho being involved more than just sexually. Much to his surprise, your hand finally relaxes against his face, and he revels in the way you even stroke his skin with your thumb. The timing couldn’t be more ideal, truly. He can sense the attention of his intended audience, and the corners of his mouth curl into a subtle smirk of approval.

“That’s perfect. Keep going.”

“Don’t push it, please.”

For the rest of that week, Wooyoung insisted on repeating these kinds of daily rendezvous. This request also accompanied another for walking each other to class when applicable. He knew he couldn’t always time it right for when she’d be present, but he had his workarounds. He was fairly knowledgeable about a few of her friends’ class schedules, and he made it a point to walk with you on paths that would often intersect with those who he knew would inform her of his behavior instead. Occasionally, he would ask you to show up to school a little more fetching than usual, with prettier clothes and makeup. Wooyoung also made a point of concealing her identity from you, for reasons unbeknownst to you. He failed to tell you any more details about her after your first date, and that included basics as simple as her name. Several possibilities were considered when you finally identified this as a problem. The rational explanation would be that he doesn’t want you approaching her on your own time and taking things into your own hands. A particular irrational explanation starts infiltrating your thoughts with the more days that pass by bearing no evidence of progress:

“I’m starting to believe this ex of yours doesn’t exist.”

Your snide remark about his secrecy started as a joke.

“I have nothing to gain from lying to you.”

His terse reply didn’t necessarily extinguish the conspiracy behind your jest. After consistently being told not to look in certain directions for nearly two weeks, and no updates on her position, it became harder to believe his words. Despite everything, you do as you’re told and pray that his ex breaks through sooner rather than later.

I’m sorry.

It seems as though those two words haven’t stopped coming out of your mouth ever since you stepped foot in Yunho’s home this evening.

It begins with apologizing profusely for asking to come over on such short notice. Your complex’s Wi-Fi went out due to the wintery mix storm slamming the town tonight. Wooyoung’s been trying to lay it on thick the last few days and make your presence more than known to his ex, anywhere and every way that he can. Consequently, with a lot of your free time being taken away by him, you found little time to put towards important assignments due at the end of this week. The lack of Wi-Fi is the absolute last thing you need to happen right now.

Yunho doesn’t care about your abrupt presence at his door or even the way you track slush past his doorstep. He's more concerned about how you drove in the middle of a huge storm so late into the evening with no care for your safety. Over and over, you find new things to apologize for that make no sense to him. Another set of frazzled apologies comes from your mouth for keeping him up late after an hour or two passes. Yunho can’t help but genuinely laugh at this one.

“You do realize what day it is, right?” He inquires. The clueless look on your face makes him sit up, “It’s Saturday, ____. The day you typically come over and spend the night. I actually texted you about it earlier today, I didn’t know if you still wanted to or not since you were so busy last Saturday.”

This epiphany makes you immensely bashful and draws many more apologies out of you for your poor memory and lack of communication. How could I have lost time so badly that I forgot to reply to him about something we do so routinely? Under your stressful circumstances lately, your days are running together, and there’s just too much on your plate to appease everyone. Yunho visibly sees the shame blanket you from head to toe, and he hopes he didn’t come across as if he was upset with your behavior. In fact, he’s more concerned than anything.

Your lover can hear you type much faster after this brief exchange and he scoffs. Surely you don’t believe he’d willingly let you make haste of your work so you can disappear for another week or two… he groans internally when he realizes that’s exactly what you’re doing. He doesn’t understand why you’re so self-conscious and sheepish tonight, but he’s not going to press it. Instead, he rises from his spot on his couch and creeps over to where you’re seated at his table. His hands find the slopes of your shoulders and thumbs rub comforting circles into your muscles.

“You know you’re not going home tonight, right?” He questions after a moment of being nosey and peeking at your screen.

“And why not?”

The abrupt feeling of Yunho’s large palm skating up the skin of your throat before pushing your chin up to meet his gaze above you makes a chill run up your spine. His eyes are warm and concerned, yet stern.

“Because I said so,” he says point-blank.

Whether it be because of the terrible storm still slapping at his windows, or maybe even the fact that he hasn’t seen you outside of a classroom in quite some time, he knows this succinct answer suffices just as well those do. The subsequent pout on your lips to him is seen simply as an invitation to kiss them, and he does just that. You don’t even try to argue any further. It may not be your best work this semester, but it’s not too much longer after that when you finally submit everything due before its midnight deadline.

After briefly disappearing to his room to rummage through his dresser and change into something more comfortable, you eventually join him on the couch. Tonight’s position of choice has your head using his thighs as a pillow, cheek squished against his soft sweatpants as he spends endless minutes massaging the tense muscles of your back and shoulders with his fingers. He smells so good… that lavender and musk mix has you closing your eyes every handful of seconds just to breathe him in. Even if he can’t see your face, it’s obvious that you’re not paying attention to the movie he has on the TV, so he suggests that maybe you both should move to the bedroom so you can be more comfortable. You assure him that you’re more than comfortable right where you’re at, and that’s the truth.

Despite laying so peacefully with him, in what should be a moment of sedating intimacy, your mind is still reeling with things that need to be accomplished in the next few weeks. Every time you mentally check off something on your list, there are several more things added after, such as your three final exams, Yunho’s final paper, returning your textbook rentals, finally figuring out your ceremony dress, picking up your guests’ ceremony tickets–

“Are you going to attend my ceremony?”

Yunho hears you mumble this randomly after a while of sitting in comfortable silence. You’re sure he doesn’t need a ticket as a teacher, but the thought of having to get them brings you back to earth and reminds you of his presence.

“That was the plan,” he confirms, but hesitantly adds, “Unless you don’t want me there. I don’t want to make things awkward.”

The way you’re acting lately has him questioning things like this, now that he thinks about it. You immediately dispel his apprehension with a displeased grunt.

“No, I… really need you there.”

Yunho’s hand falters slightly in its kneading. He’s grateful that you’re unable to see his face with how you’re lying because the apples of his cheeks are taut from the overjoyed smile threatening to break through his lips. It’s one thing to be admired or adored by someone, but it’s another thing to be needed. He doesn’t hear that word often, if at all, but hearing it come from your mouth makes it even more monumental to him. That’s something he could get used to. Yunho hums in understanding, wordlessly confirming that he’ll be present. Following along the topic of graduation, he decides to ask something present on his mind recently.

“Have you thought about what you want to do after graduation?”

“Career-wise or celebration-wise?”

“Whichever… or both.”

You close your eyes to think. Nothing immediately comes to mind in terms of celebrating, but you’re sure your friends will be holding parties to attend. Putting that aside, you turn over and decide to open up a bit about your impending employment.

“I had a great internship last semester that I put my all into,” you divulge, “They wanted to bring me on full-time, so I asked if they could hold the position and wait for me to finish my degree this semester. Lucky me, they agreed.”

“Already set up for success right after you leave that stage… You’re amazing,” Yunho marvels. “I suppose I’m just as lucky too, huh? I get to watch you shine, front row.”

There’s a brief moment where you peer up and match his fond smile that’s already beaming right back down at you. When you reach up to caress his cheek, Yunho leans into your touch as if it’s second nature. The further you both dive into this relationship, it feels as though maybe you’ve finally found an additional frontline cheerleader.

“Mhm, something like that,” you tease. When he turns to kiss your palm in his form of congratulations, you sigh. Your hands have been tainted by someone else’s touch, and here he is blindly showing them genuine affection. Before you can help it, another apology comes out, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately, Yu.”

“Why do you keep apologizing tonight for things you can’t control?” The gentle, unsuspecting laugh he lets out makes the guilt sitting in your chest about Wooyoung just a little bit heavier. “It’s finals season, I know how it goes.”

When your hand returns to your chest, your gaze falls just the same. He’s right, albeit unknowingly. With those words, you can finally accept that you have no control over your current situation at all. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself that you’re guiding this blackmail ship forward, you’re just not. In any case, you still feel like you’re doing what’s best for Yunho's future. Tonight’s tornado of apologies have all been unconscious overcompensation. As much as you feel like you need to, you know you shouldn’t have to apologize for your shortcomings when they result from such unmanageable circumstances. You’re doing your best, even if your best isn’t enough just yet.

Yunho can’t figure out what it is about tonight, but you seem like your head is a bit more in the clouds than usual. You’re here with him physically, but he can tell you’re somewhere else mentally. However, he acknowledges that he could be reading into things too much since it’s been a while since you both have spent time privately.

“Hey, stargazer, everything okay?” he finally asks in a soft voice, gently tugging on your cheek to bring you back to the present.

“Sorry—yeah, everything’s alright,” you reassure him. There’s something behind those soft eyes you’re giving him that makes him question your answer, but he keeps those concerns to himself and simply nods. “Thank you for being so understanding. I’ll make it up to you when this is all over with, I promise.”

You’re no longer talking about school with those words. He’ll probably never truly understand how much weight that sentence holds, but that’s okay. For the rest of your time with him tonight, you pretend that none of your problems exist outside his home. He deserves your unwavering attention tonight, at the very least.

On the first day of the following week, Wooyoung requests your presence in front of some familiar dormitories. It’s been quite some time now since you’ve been on this side of campus, considering you moved into your current apartment around the end of your junior year. The nostalgic feeling you get when meandering your way to your meeting place doesn’t do much to alleviate the anxiety you regularly get every time Wooyoung brings you somewhere so populated.

“What are we doing here again?”

“I heard she’s swinging by here today to drop something off for a mutual friend,” he explains while his eyes still scope the area for her presence, as usual.

You busy yourself with playing on your phone, keeping your head down and yourself hidden for as long as you can manage. This place, while technically not as densely populated as the dining space you frequent, has too many opportunities for lurking gazes. This particular set of dormitories sits on the side of campus that encompasses a good amount of academic halls and the largest campus library. There are plenty of teachers and students walking to classes or accessing the library, and even more lingering outside within the surrounding courtyard despite the frigid weather. Wooyoung had insisted on holding you by your waist for the time being as well, citing something about how “normal couples warm each other up”. You just want this to be over with as quickly as possible before too many people can see you both standing so close together.

“Hey, ____,” Wooyoung hums after a while, catching your attention quickly.

“Hm?”

Before you can even fully look up from your phone, Wooyoung’s head dips down and seeks out your lips. Shock is an understatement; the feeling of your heart seizing in unison with your limbs makes you feel like you might as well be flatlining. This cannot be—

“Relax,” he whispers before deepening this kiss, interrupting your thought as his tongue enters your mouth.

Reluctantly, you do as he says and try your best to relax while kissing him back. Over and over, you remind yourself this is supposed to be putting on a show in front of his ex. You try to allow yourself to fully slip into the role you have been forced to play. Your hands find purchase on his jacket, albeit uneasily. For someone who’s making your life so much more difficult, you can’t deny he’s at least a decent kisser. This moment feels like it lasts entirely too long, but eventually, Wooyoung pulls away and you watch his eyes dart around somewhere behind you.

“She’s gone now,” he sighs, “Pretty sure she saw that though. Nice job.”

“Don’t ever do that without warning me beforehand again,” you scold him in a voice low enough for his ears to hear only. Wooyoung rolls his eyes, though he follows up with an apology. Even though it seems genuine, it does nothing to quell the immediate guilt that washes over you the moment you go to swipe saliva off of your lips with your thumb. The nauseous feeling stirring in your stomach over simply kissing someone else other than Yunho begins to build up and feel unbearable, “Can I go now? I’m supposed to meet with a teacher during their office hours soon.”

Despite the tremor of uneasiness in your voice, Wooyoung believes your lie without question. That uneasiness doesn’t depart your system for the remainder of the day even after removing his presence, and you decide to call it quits early instead of attending your final class. This feeling of guilt, almost as if you cheated while in a relationship, has you more saddened than frustrated tonight. To make things easier to deal with, you repeat the same phrase about you and Yunho in your head over and over.

It’s okay, we’re not together yet.

While you cook yourself dinner–

It’s okay, we’re not together yet.

While working on your final paper–

It’s okay, we’re not together yet.

Yunho’s failure to text you back that evening before going to bed makes that fact easier to swallow. It’s the truth, so it shouldn’t be so hard to digest, right?

Yeosang does not expect much when he asks you out of the blue the next day to come and spend time with him after school. His roommate is gone for the week to visit family and he’s all by his lonesome. For the majority of the month, he’s become used to you declining in favor of completing overdue work. He’s not used to you being so behind on your work, and it doesn’t quite make sense to him when other times you say you’re even busier throughout the day. You look a bit more drained than usual when he Facetimes you that afternoon to suggest it, but he figures he wouldn’t be that upset to hear another no if you need the rest.

The answer was yes, for the first time in a while.

As luck would have it, the imaginary shackles on you had been released for the day, and having time to yourself for an entire weekday almost felt strange. Your personified migraine had texted you early in the morning informing you he’d be out of town for the day to attend some seminar that you didn’t care enough to remember the details of. Yeosang doesn’t do a good enough job concealing his shock the moment confirmation comes from your mouth, and you feign offense.

“I'm being punked, right?”

You scoff, “I don’t like the way you’re acting like this is bizarre, loser.”

You both know that’s a fairly accurate word considering your disappearances these last couple of weeks. His broad smile at your usual banter makes you feel cherished and missed, and it’s comforting for him to know you still have such a sense of humor even through your fatigue. He’s secretly been concerned for your well-being, but he didn’t want to seem meddlesome. Eventually, you go from two faces on a screen to you perched at his kitchen table. Yeosang insisted he cook you a nice homecooked meal when you mentioned to him in passing how much you miss eating his food. His back might be turned away, but he’s still actively engaging in discussion with you over the controversial love triangle taking place on the dating reality show he has you catching up on with him tonight. Toward the end of an episode, it takes you a few minutes of rambling to realize your best friend has grown silent while he cooks. Behind your back, he’s busy ruminating over thoughts of love triangles when he decides to finally uncork the bottle he’s been keeping closed in an attempt to have a peaceful evening.

“Can I ask you a question?” Yeosang calls out suddenly over the sound of oil popping in his pan.

Your eyes stay glued to the television, but you hum in consent, “What’s up?”

“Is it true that you’re dating Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung.

His name is a burden to you these days; the syllables of it only bring you discomfort. Hearing it mentioned on a day when you almost felt like you could get away from him draws a long beat of silence from you, though Yeosang doesn’t turn around to confront such silence. He allows you the time to answer however you’d like to if you would even provide one. Even though he was somewhat putting you on the spot with such a question, Yeosang is still your best friend at the end of the day. He’s not the kind of person to pressure you or give you a hard time about your private business, despite the times he rags on you in jest.

The truthful answer is right on the tip of your tongue, begging to be shouted, but you don’t have the strength to say such a thing yet. Instead, you inquire, “Who did you hear that from?”

You don’t mean to, but you sound a bit miffed when asking. Until this point, you had hoped your fake relationship with Wooyoung wasn’t too obvious to those who don’t pay close enough attention, but the feeling of failure is now pooling in the depths of your stomach. You should’ve known better.

“When someone begins getting close to the TA who’s in charge of their grades, I guess it’s understandable that there would be some rumors… Some people in our class are saying you’re together now,” Yeosang explains, voice as calm as ever while he continues to push around the meat in the pan. “I overheard those speculations and I didn’t really believe any of it at all. Unlike them, I know you’re already seeing Mr. Jeong.”

Yeosang pauses to allow you a chance to say any words you wish to insert if anything. Being amongst speculations of wooing someone to raise your grades is the least of your worries, and you honestly couldn’t care less if people believed such silly things in the last semester of your college career. At this moment, you are much more concerned about Yunho catching light of such rumors, or really anything regarding you and Wooyoung in the same sentence reaching his ears. It didn’t seem that way when you were both in each other’s presence a few days ago talking about your future, and you’re sure that he would’ve confronted you about such things if he could. Still…

“I’m not dating Wooyoung, nor would I even think of doing that for my grades. You know me, Yeo.”

You’re sure Yeosang can feel your eyes gazing over at him now, boring anxious holes through his back. You know he can hear the uneasiness plaguing you, making your words waver.

“I understand, I do. It’s just…” Yeosang pauses once more to find the right words that don’t sound so accusatory, “Hongjoong told me he saw you both on each other on his way to class the other day. I figured I’d simply ask you about that before I come to any conclusions, that’s all.”

Several beats of silence pass before you feel like you’ve finally drowned deep in this ocean of stress you’ve been trying to keep afloat in.

“Yeosang, I’m in over my head and I can’t handle this anymore.”

Yeosang finally ceases his stirring and peers over at you the moment the last syllable leaves your lips. This is the first time you’ve both met each other’s eyes since he began cooking and his gaze is undeniably the most concerned you’ve seen him give you in years. He can’t help it when he can so clearly hear the hurt in your voice. He knows you’re a bit more reserved these days when talking about your relationship with your teacher, and he understands that it could be out of respect for his privacy. This moment doesn’t seem like a situation where that’s applicable anymore.

Navigating this situation all by yourself is draining.

These last months in college are supposed to be nerve-wracking in an exciting way, finishing finals and prepping yourself to walk across the stage for your diploma. You’re supposed to be anxious about what to wear and how to do your makeup for your ceremony, about how you should smile when the ceremony’s photographer tells you where to look as you grab that fake symbolic roll of paper. Instead, you’ve been running yourself dry trying to appease a man who’s threatening to ruin one of the best things to happen to you thus far in life. You just want to be happy. Yeosang was right in warning you about playing with fire when pursuing Yunho, but it all still hurts so fucking badly.

“I want to help you ____, but you have to be honest with me,” he stresses, “I’m concerned about you. Tell me what’s wrong, please.”

You’re uncomfortably silent for a moment, eyes glued to his while contemplating his words. At last, you decide to broach the subject of all your mental stress. If you trusted anyone to help you navigate this situation, it was going to be him. This was no longer something you could handle on your own.

“I’m being blackmailed by Wooyoung.”

The words don’t even sound real coming out of your mouth when you finally betray the promise of silence you made to Wooyoung.

Yeosang’s brows draw together even closer in concern, “What?”

“Wooyoung found out that Yunho and I are together,” you confess further, words running out as quickly as you can think to say them, “And now he’s forcing me to date him to make his ex jealous. He wouldn’t stay quiet otherwise, and it’s all my fault, Yeosang. It’s all my fault.”

Your best friend pushes his pan away from the eye of the stove and makes haste over to where you’re sitting. He knows you better than you know yourself sometimes, already sensing you crumbling before you can realize that you’re finally breaking down. All of the pent-up stress over the last couple of weeks was finally taking its toll.

“I thought it would be over quickly, but it doesn’t seem like we’re making any progress,” you sputter, putting your head in your hands and pressing your palms to your eyes. The last thing you want to do is cry over a man who does deserve your tears. “He won’t even tell me who she is. I can’t handle this anymore, I just can’t.”

Yeosang’s arms wrap around you to ground you before you can allow yourself to descend further into your breakdown. Very few times has he seen your foundation be shaken so badly by something. You’re one of the strongest people he knows, and it takes a lot to disintegrate the fortitude you hold. He knows he can help you build it back later, he’s your best friend for a reason. For right now, though, he’ll let you get everything out that you’ve been holding in and dealing with by yourself. He knows you probably had your reasons to keep such things inside and away from him.

“He kissed me yesterday and I felt so guilty for the rest of the day, like I betrayed Yunho,” you tell him, and before you realize it tears are finally brimming in your eyes.

“Be kind to yourself, ____,” Yeosang hums while he holds your face in his hands. “You didn’t do that because you wanted to, it’s okay. You don’t have to deal with this alone anymore, okay?”

Hearing those words for the first time since this all began allows a veil of peace to cover you and you nod, finally accepting your need for help. Yeosang promises you that he will do whatever he can to find out who Wooyoung has his sights set so heavy on without interfering enough to throw things out of kilter. His help could be the only chance you had at getting this charade to end faster, even if it meant riskily trying to nudge things along behind Wooyoung’s back. You were no longer satisfied with being patient, and you now realize you don’t have to settle for that anymore.

While you might’ve gained some peace that night, around 2 AM that morning, there is no peace to be found in the home of your lover.

Yunho’s been staring at his ceiling for the last hour, unable to sleep even though he knows he needs to be up in a handful of hours for work. He had tried to push this situation plaguing his thoughts out of his mind all day yesterday, but his brain does its worst on nights when he’s left to his own devices and his thoughts spiral. At least tonight it’s not for self-sabotaging reasons like he’s prone to.

He allows himself to close his eyes and relive the moment when he saw you and his assistant kissing on his way to a multi-department meeting at the library. The moment he recalls the way your hands were clutching Wooyoung’s chest, he grimaces with unadulterated resentment. For the entirety of yesterday, he felt numb. He went through the day simply going through the motions, lacking any of his usual charisma and cordiality amongst most people he crossed paths with throughout the day. He was able to put on a mask for his students at the very least. How is one supposed to act when they see their girlfriend kissing another man? That’s when he has to remind himself:

She’s not my girlfriend.

At least, he doesn’t know if you are or not, since you haven’t said it out of your mouth yet. This is exactly the kind of bothersome bullshit he was so worried about weeks ago when he realized the severity of his feelings for you. He should’ve had the conversation with you earlier to see where your head was at, but he put it off for so long under the excuse of being afraid of scaring you off. He wonders if maybe you think he’s not serious about you enough since he’s never brought it up first. And sure, he knows you both aren’t technically together right now, but you could’ve at least let him know that you’re seeing more people than him, right? It hurts a little more that it’s also his assistant of all people.

He turns onto his side in a huff and buries himself deeper under his blanket. Yunho wishes he hadn’t fallen for you so hard. It’s hard enough to deal with his feelings as things are now, especially with the circumstances, but the introduction of competition might just drive him insane. She’s a grown woman and she’s allowed to do whatever she wants, he reminds himself reluctantly while closing his eyes once more, but again—a heads-up would’ve been nice. He doesn’t even know how to approach this situation moving forward. How is he supposed to look you in the eyes today during class?

The answer is that he doesn’t.

If he can help it, he actively avoids those engaged eyes of yours while he goes on for an hour about pragmatics. He doesn’t even look over at your side of the room. It’s not until the mid-class break that he takes multiple swift glances over at you chatting with Yeosang about something that’s got you enthusiastic. That smile on your face while excitement physically pours out of you makes his eyes soften. He wonders if you’re discussing graduation, as it is coming up in some weeks now. Then, he remembers that he wanted to take you away or do something relaxing to celebrate since you seemed to not have existing plans. Would that sway you back over to his side, if he planned something nice and spoiled the surprise early? Before he can even finish that train of thought, he finds himself finally meeting your eyes while you briefly let yours wander around in the middle of a sentence. The sneaky flirtatious wink you send his way makes him clear his throat bashfully and adjust his tie.

Yunho spends the remainder of class discussing the final paper and offering to read any final drafts that people would like feedback on, as long as they’re submitted by a specific date. He knows he’s probably shooting himself in the foot by putting that kind of work on his plate so close to the deadline, but he genuinely wants people to do well on his final and he knows there are quite a few seniors in this particular class section. The least he can do is make sure those of you end your college careers with a satisfactory grade to finish off your transcripts. He did very well with his midterm evaluations as well, so he wants to do the same for his finals.

When class ends, Yunho finally takes notice of how Wooyoung has been leaving as early as everyone else lately. He could’ve sworn Wooyoung used to stick around to ask him questions, and often times he even departed after Yunho had already departed. He also notices that you are nowhere to be found now even though Yeosang is still present, seemingly already having fled the room for one reason or another. He doesn’t want to think about if he’s been so oblivious to these kinds of things up until this point, but the thought of you and Wooyoung rushing to meet up after his classes sticks with him for the rest of the day.

Yunho can admit he’s a bit toxic sometimes.

It happens in moments of weakness where he lets his selfishness outweigh anything else. He reasons to himself that this isn’t one of those situations as he stands in front of your apartment door late into the evening of that same day. He had called you and asked if he could come see you at your place, which rarely happens. While it caught you by surprise, and you were in the midst of work, you were still as welcoming as ever. He knows you’d never say no. He’d never admit it aloud, but he’s not solely here just to see you—he’s here to be a bit nosy.

It’s freezing outside, so when you finally open the door he’s scrambling to get inside.

“That was fast,” you marvel.

When you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a hug, your shivers and giggles are like white noise in his ears as his eyes sweep the room. He doesn’t notice anything out of place, nothing that would make it seem like anybody other than you had been present here anytime soon anyway. His cold hands slide up the slope of your back to cup the sides of your face, and he offers you a sweet closed-mouth smile before briefly pressing his lips to yours in greeting.

“Yeah, traffic was pretty non-existent,” he hums.

“I made soup since it’s so frosty,” you glance towards the kitchen as your hands go to unzip his jacket for him, “Are you hungry?”

“If you’re cooking, always.”

Tonight, Yunho takes things slow.

From graciously eating your cooking to cuddling on your couch, he builds up the intimacy minute by minute. It’s something he’s been craving from you lately, that feeling of intimacy and domestication. He’s more than willing to indulge you when grow aroused by something as innocent as him mindlessly drawing shapes on your thighs with his fingers, slowly shifting them inside your pajama shorts when you whisper, “I want you to touch me.”

“I’m already touching you, baby.”

You push his hand just a smidge lower, whining, “You know what I mean.”

When things finally move to the bedroom, Yunho fucks you nice and slow, and it feels much more intimate than any of your previous times together. Slow, steady rolls of his hips into yours like he’s intent on showing you every ounce of love he holds for you in his body if he’s unable to say it outright himself. Nothing inherently strikes you as odd about the way his demeanor is different tonight. In fact, this kind of pure intimacy is something you’d been curious to experience from him. It almost makes you feel like you’re officially together. Sure, sex is naturally intimate, but this? This feels different.

His hands go from holding yours beside your head so affectionately to passionately gripping and kneading the plush skin of your sides and thighs like they’re fresh dough. It’s like he’s trying to solidify that this is reality, that you’re truly here in his hands and not someone else's. Grip strong enough to dig deep into the tissue and make you moan, but gentle enough not to leave bruising marks. Truth be told, he’d rather leave marks of where he’s been in less covert places. That’s why his mouth subconsciously finds its way to your neck before you feel the gentle drag of his teeth on your skin. It’s too quick to even be considered a warning.

“Yu, wait–”

You begin to tell him he can’t leave hickeys in such open places, but Yunho quiets you by sucking your skin anyway. The first one is on the tender skin just under your jaw, right where he can feel the pulse of how fast your heart is beating with his tongue. The desperate whine you let out when he finally lets up with a quiet pop! of his lips off your skin encourages him to put another on the column of your throat. You’ll probably throw a fit later when you see how bad these are and complain about the trouble of covering them up, but he really couldn’t care less.

When he finishes off the second hickey, he kisses his way up to your lips so sweetly as if he didn’t do something so obviously possessive. As if he didnt do something so mischievous which’ll draw questions from your friends and get you flustered trying to explain. These marks are warnings as much as they are bites of love. You throw your arms around his neck and arch your back, itching for more than what he’s offering. It doesn’t matter that it still feels euphoric, those long drags of his cock against your walls just to fill you up again—it’s too slow. The breathy laugh he lets out against your lips draws a pout from your own.

“What’s wrong pretty girl, don’t I make you feel good?” Yunho asks in a whisper, deep chocolate eyes holding your gaze while he continues to roll his hips at his leisure. He doesn’t like that he needs a bit of reassurance right now, but he wants to hear it so badly. When you nod with fervor, it’s just not good enough for him, “Tell me, angel. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

“You’re everything I crave, Yu,” you oblige him breathlessly, hands scratching at the sensitive nape of his neck while you arch again. For the first time this evening, Yunho’s hips falter in their steady rhythm. He’s quite caught off guard by your choice of words; it’s as if you know exactly what he needs to hear more than he does himself. “Nobody could ever make me feel like you do.”

“Yeah? This pretty pussy needs me, huh?”

There’s that word that he now loves so much: need.

“More than you know,” you gasp when he pushes his hips into yours as deep as he can manage, obscenities bubbling from within your chest.

Even though you both have had sex many times since this all began, this part still feels fresh. The way he manages to reach new depths inside of you and stretch you out to his heart’s content feels fresh every single time. Yunho’s thrusts begin picking up some speed finally and whines claw at his throat.

“My sweet, needy baby… You’re the only one who gets this, ____,” he admits, voice trembly while he drags his lips against the sensitive skin of your jaw, kissing his previous artwork, “It’s all yours, okay?”

In a perfect world, he’d love to hear you say the same back to him, but he’s snapping his hips too roughly now to allow for words. The way you begin begging for him to give you more of himself makes up for it. Bitten-off moans tumble from your lips as the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, and it makes his cock throb and ache for release. The way you’re chanting his name has his eyes fluttering up in bliss. There’s no doubt in his mind that you want him, mentally and carnally, but the real question is if he’s not enough to satisfy that want. Yunho doesn’t have time to let his mind wander off into that kind of insecure territory. His brain becomes fuzzy as he becomes eager to feel you cum stuffed full of his cock, and then see his own paint your sweaty skin. Those familiar heavy pants he lets out against your lips make you simper.

“Getting close?”

“So close,” he nods, hissing when he feels you clench at his answer, “H-hah, oh fuck.”

“Wanna cum inside?” You offer this so shyly against his lips that he nearly doesn’t hear you talking altogether. When he offers you an absentminded ‘huh’ in response, you giggle and move to speak directly in his ear, “Want you to cum inside.”

Something behind Yunho’s eyes changes when you pull back—those blown-out pupils of his with little hearts swimming in them zero in on yours with a look you can’t quite put your tongue on. You cross your ankles behind his back to emphasize your words, to show him you’re serious.

“Really want me to fill you up, pretty?” he rasps. When you bite your bottom lip and nod, he offers you a lopsided grin, “Use those fingers and catch up, then.”

You don’t need to be told twice, one hand moving from being around his neck down to your clit to rub quick circles that’ll push you over the edge together. He’s never cum in you ever since you both started having sex, but he’s feeling overwhelmingly possessive today and it might just subside if he sees his cum leaking from your cunt onto your sheets. It’s now the only thought screaming at him in that fucked-out head of his. Your mouths connecting in a messy, sensuous kiss is the final push he needs.

Yunho’s fingers wind deep into your sheets with as much strength as he can muster while he buries himself inside you, pelvis to pelvis, pushing you deeper into your mattress. The throb of his cock and the broken moan he lets out while he finally cums trigger your own orgasm. The moment you lock your legs around him to keep him in place, your walls flutter and squeeze his cock to help milk him dry. He makes a note somewhere in the lusty haze of his mind that he just has to get you both to cum at the same time like this again at another point in time because the way you’re practically squeezing every last drop from him while you fall apart is nearly making him whimper repentance for how sinful it feels. When your legs let up on their grip, he gives you a few shallow thrusts before finally pulling out. Focusing on catching your breath is hard when he’s gazing so heavily at the mess he’s made of you.

“Don’t stare...” Yunho doesn’t even realize he’s been fascinated with watching the way his seed spills from your heat until you poorly block it with a self-conscious hand. Only then does he finally look up and find you flustered, the pout on your face growing more prominent by the second, “It’s embarrassing...”

“God, you’re so fine,” he coos. The jolt your body produces when he takes his fingers and pushes what’s been wasted back into your sensitive hole makes him laugh. “Even prettier like this too. Let’s get you cleaned up, pretty baby.”

Yunho hadn’t originally planned on sleeping over—it is a weekday after all, and he has work tomorrow morning. After showering, though, his willpower is tested. He loses nearly all his self-discipline to leave like a responsible man when you use this irresistible voice the moment he steps foot back into the room, humming honeyed words while holding his briefs behind your back to keep him from getting dressed.

“Can’t you just wake up early to swing by your house and get ready?” You eventually pout up at him when he looks as if he might change his mind. With the way your gaze is focused on his attentive eyes, you can’t see the way his cock is already twitching back to life again at your pleading eyes, the same ones you use on your knees between his thighs. He’s so thankful for that. “This is why I said you should leave some outfits over here just in case.”

“I know, I know. I should listen to you more. Can I please have my underwear back now?”

“Are you gonna stay? Please?”

He chuckles before finally conceding, “I can’t say no when you ask me so nicely, can I?”

You nearly fall apart at the way he pulls your face up by your cheeks with firm fingers before planting a kiss of surrender on your lips. Yunho doesn’t even remember why he’s over your house anymore, now only focused on getting his underwear back from your hands before you can see him getting hard all over again. He has enough sense to know that a second round will surely be much longer than the previous one, and you both need to sleep soon if he wants to wake up early enough. Lucky for him, you’re much too tired from a full day to stay up too much longer anyway.

It’s 8 AM when Yunho’s phone starts chiming with an annoying tone he set specifically to force his awakening. That grating sound is also your punishment for persuading him to spend the night. He’s slow to turn it off specifically for that reason, and a lazy smile stretches across his face when he hears you groan. Success.

“You’re so annoying,” you murmur. You instinctively search for your phone on your nightstand to glance at how early your lover has you suffering, then slowly slide yourself out of bed to go blindly search for a bottle of water.

Yunho screws his eyes shut and open a few times to regain his vision before flipping over and patiently awaiting your arrival. He gave himself a fairly decent buffer on the off chance you decide to stay awake and eat breakfast with him. At least, that was the plan until something happened that immediately changed his brain chemistry. Yunho’s eyes swivel towards your phone when it vibrates a couple of times on the nightstand. It really wouldn’t have been a problem had he not seen and recognized the name on the screen. Against his better judgment, he picks it up gently. He sees two older notifications from the prior night and the two new ones now piquing his interest.

[Wooyoung: Don’t forget lunch tomorrow]

[Wooyoung: Usual place]

...

[Wooyoung: Good morning]

[Wooyoung: If you get on campus by 10 let's do breakfast instead, they’ll be there. lmk]

His eyes constrict to slits almost instantaneously.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…

He doesn’t care that it's petty, he swipes each of the message notifications and deletes them with a pool of satisfaction boiling in the deepest pit of his stomach. You were too busy with him last night to notice his other messages anyway. If he could delete those messages permanently, he would. Realistically, there was no way he could keep you from eventually meeting up again with Wooyoung, but maybe distracting you enough to be late could be worth being a bit late to his own obligations. He’s extra needy on purpose this morning, immediately seeking out your attention the moment you groggily slip back into bed after chugging water. Feeling his warm hands grope your butt just makes you groan in that special kind of annoyance that naturally comes with waking earlier than need-be. When his fingers travel to fiddle with the elastic of your panties, an indirect request of sorts, you muster enough energy to nudge him weakly.

“S’too early, Yu,” you pout without even opening your eyes and bury your cheek deeper into your pillow.

“I know, I know. I have to leave soon,” he acknowledges. Still, his hand dances its way into the fabric. He watches you shudder when his middle finger pushes against your clit experimentally. His brow lifts when you open your legs. He licks his lips eagerly before murmuring, “You don’t even have to do anything, I’ll take good care of you. Go ahead and rest, okay?”

The hum you let out, signaling him to do as he pleases, has him gently working your panties down your legs and tossing them on the floor. He spends all the time he can, all the way until the last few minutes before he has to leave, with his face buried between your tired thighs. Always a starved man when it comes to your greedy cunt, the one that he confirmed last night needs him oh so much, he french-kisses his way into a sore tongue and a stiff jaw.

“Mhm, that’s it,” he talks directly to your heat, holding open your lips with his thumbs while watching the way slick, cum, and spit seep out to sully your sheets, “Gimme another one.”

Sleepy whines and garbled whimpers of his name have him rutting his hips against your bed. He would touch himself if he could, but his hands are too busy massaging your tense thighs in rhythm with his aching tongue lapping at your clit. The friction isn’t enough. He supposes his poor underwear will just have to suffer from precum leaking out his deprived cock, drenching the fabric the more he gets aroused. Each orgasm he’s able to pull from you drains your body of its energy more and more until you’re a meek puddle of fatigue splayed out on your mattress.

Yunho doesn’t remember what number orgasm his mouth finally parts from your core, but at some point, he finally reminds himself that he’s a man with responsibilities who still has to go home and change into his work clothes. He also needs to take care of this painful hard-on quickly when he gets somewhere private. Self-admittedly, this all was as rewarding to himself in fulfilling it as it was to you receiving. Seeing you absolutely spent and on the verge of (hopefully) deep sleep puts a shameless smile on his face.

He’s still a gentleman above anything else, taking the extra time to clean your skin and the mess he’s made of your cunt with a wet cloth before lovingly redressing you in your undies. He doesn’t even know if you can hear him after a certain point, but he still tucks you back in and whispers sweet nothings that he’ll overthink about later when he’s in his office after remembering why he was here in the first place. He even apologizes for ruining your sheets, again. The timid, fleeting kiss he leaves on your temple is followed by him carelessly saying, “Love you.”

The moment those two words tumble from his lips his eyes grow wide, and he waits with bated breath to see if you are even the slightest bit awake to hear his blunder. When you show no signs of stirring, Yunho releases all air caged within his chest and decides it’s best to leave quickly before he can make a fool of himself any further. You don’t hear from him for the rest of the day.

“I see… so she does exist,” you mutter sarcastically.

At the end of the week, following your shared linguistics lecture, you and your best friend convene at a table deep in the back of the library. Yeosang had spent a good amount of his time in the last few days covertly asking questions about Wooyoung to random acquaintances in hopes of getting bits of useful information about him or his ex. He was finally able to give you her name and class year, but he came up short otherwise.

“I wasn’t able to get any of her socials, I didn’t want to seem like I was pursuing her. However, I do have another idea,” he says, hands motioning for you to hear him out after he sees your spirits drop, “I was told she’s in Hongjoong’s capstone class and–”

“Oh brother,” you groan and sink further into your seat.

If Yeosang’s words days ago were anything to go by, Hongjoong was already convinced you were dating Wooyoung, so asking him for his ex-girlfriend’s number is surely just going to cause prying questions. You’re fully convinced that he probably won’t even consider giving it to you because he might think it’ll lead to drama.

“I know. Just hear me out,” Yeosang leans forward and lowers his voice, “I honestly don’t think it would be hard to get him to tell you. If you can come up with a plausible reason why you would need to reach out, I think he wouldn’t hesitate too much.”

“Which would be?”

“Well, I don’t know anything about her other than that she’s in a sorority. You can figure something out from that, right?”

You couldn’t deny that this was definitely a useful piece of information. Yeosang watches you purse your lips while you toss around some of the logistics in your head before nodding with some renewed optimism.

“Which app do you think I should start on?”

“I’m sure the majority of our sororities have IG pages to promote their activities. That’s probably your best bet,” he recommends, “I can help you search in between finals prep–”

“You’ve done enough, I can definitely handle that part,” you interject with a reassuring smile, “Thank you for even getting this info. I appreciate it, Yeo.”

While things definitely looked more positive from this conversation, there was an odd feeling lingering in your stomach over the next few days. From his time at your home through the weekend, Yunho’s communication and presence were lacking a bit more than usual. While it made things easier for you to see Wooyoung when requested without fear, it didn’t make things any less disappointing. Knowing he’s still there for you even through all of this mess was the only thing keeping you afloat, so it’s troubling when that disappears out of nowhere. Nevertheless, the end of the semester was creeping up faster than even you realized, so it makes sense that his schedule is being affected. Moreover, his job is what you’re doing this all for anyway, right? Even without his presence, you’d silently root for him in the shadows if it meant that December ended with you both together.

In the meantime, you push these feelings to the back of your mind and give yourself a break from being so worrisome. With this charade moving deeper into its timeline, it’s time-sensitive and imperative to ask for his ex’s phone number from Hongjoong in an effort to contact her. Wooyoung might be intent on keeping you from meeting her, but he’s severely underestimated the fire in your belly when it comes to getting what you want. You’ve played along with his shenanigans long enough.

Hongjoong’s brows furrow while he shoves a few of the fries in his mouth from a meal you asked to treat him to this particular Monday afternoon.

“I should’ve known you wanted to see me for ulterior motives,” he takes a swigger of his soda with pursed lips, “Buttering me up with free food for my connections, huh?”

“I didn’t remember until just now, I promise,” you lie, trying to remain composed. You’re not exactly the best at lying to your close friends and this time is no different. “If I knew about anyone else having her number I would’ve asked them. I wouldn’t lie to you, Joong.”

His eyes examine your body language keenly before scoffing, “I’m still caught up on how you didn’t tell me that your mystery man was Wooyoung all this time. That was a lie by omission.”

“I am not dating Wooyoung, I already told you this.”

“Then why do you suddenly want his ex’s number?”

You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and offer him an easygoing smile that you had practiced a plethora of times before even leaving to meet him.

“I’m reaching out on behalf of a mutual friend about possibly being commissioned to make the graduation stoles for their sorority. That’s all.”

Yes, through hours of snooping and finally finding her Instagram, you discovered that she is a die-hard sorority girl for one of the smaller sororities on your campus. You had almost talked yourself into simply contacting her there, but as luck would have it, her messages were turned off for strangers that she doesn’t follow back. There was no doubt in your mind that she would never follow you back if you tried that route.

“You sure you’re not trying to stir the pot?” Hongjoong inquires playfully, eyeing you with an elvish grin. You groan in annoyance. “I’m all for a little mess sometimes, but I don’t like being the gateway.”

“Come on Joong, it’s nothing like that at all. I didn’t think you would be so difficult to ask about this… You’re supposed to be my rock—”

Your heart is threatening to break out of your chest when he holds up his free hand to quiet you with a roll of his eyes. Then, with his other hand, he finally scrolls through his phone to find said information.

“I’ve heard enough, please stop being so dramatic,” he sighs. His thumb stops swiping as soon as he sees what he’s looking for in his class’ group chat, and he hands you the phone reluctantly. “Under no circumstances do you tell her who gave this to you.”

“You know I love you the most, right? Even more than Yeosang!” You smile and he matches it sarcastically.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you liar. I love you too.”

While Yunho’s impromptu visit might have subdued his anxiety briefly, he knew it wouldn’t be a permanent fix. He spent some time away from you under the excuse of helping other people prepare more for the final paper deadline approaching, but that only made things worse. The longing he feels these days is stronger when he realizes you could be spending the valuable time he’s avoiding you by seeing Wooyoung instead. It’s embarrassing really, being so envious of someone younger than him. He shouldn’t be letting some university student get under his skin so easily, but there’s too much he’s given of himself to you to just be calm and collected about things.

These things swirl about in his head while he’s seated alone at the bar’s counter, patiently waiting for his friends to finish playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who pays the tab tonight. It was fairly evident that it had been a rough start to the month for Yunho from his mood, so his best friends were intent on treating him tonight. Today and the next were the university-designated study days for finals. Seonghwa personally coaxed him out of hiding by stopping by his home and offering to drive. He knows Yunho has a hard time saying no when confronted directly. As karma would have it, it was looking to be an expensive night for Seonghwa unfortunately, marked by the heavy groan Yunho can hear come from behind him when the two finish.

When he finally joins Yunho at the counter, he searches through his wallet for his credit card while asking, “Which beer do you want?”

“I need something stronger tonight,” Yunho states before flagging the bartender down himself.

Nowadays, he’s more favorable to something light and bubbly like beer because it’s easy on his body and the buzz is manageable over a longer period of time. He can’t remember the last time he drank pure liquor… It had to have been New Year’s Eve or some other holiday that’s usually burdened by alcohol. Yunho’s not remarkably sensitive to liquor and he’s by no means a lightweight, but tonight he’s truly done a number on himself. Three Long Island Iced Teas and a few extra shots of rum have him loose and on stage in front of many eyes doing what he does best: singing. Singing karaoke duets with Seonghwa always makes him feel like a college student again, bringing him back to the days of their music classes.

When the next hour comes around and several more shots enter his system, the second phase of his inebriation hits: heartache and depression. Distractions are wonderful until they’re not, and his throat hurts from doing too much falsetto. He keeps thinking about how he’s supposed to show you this side of himself eventually, serenading you like a cheesy romcom just to hear your pretty giggles telling him that he actually sounds like an angel, and those thoughts make him sad. On top of that, his social battery is depleted entirely and now all he can think about is going home. Distancing himself for the last several days is finally coming to an end, as you’re the only person he can think of to call since he doesn’t want to ruin his friends’ time by asking Seonghwa to take him back home. While booking an Uber ride would’ve been the smarter idea, Yunho’s too lovesick to pass up on a moment to hear your voice right now.

So, while Seonghwa is busy using the bathroom and San is distracted by an attractive woman who’s gone out of her way to challenge him to a game of pool, his hazy eyes manage to find your contact card in his favorites before calling you. You take a bit longer to answer than usual, but the moment he hears that familiarly sweet ‘hello there, handsome~’ come across his speaker, he physically melts into a heap on the counter. You can overhear the loud music coming through the speaker clear as day and figure he must be at the bar tonight with other teachers since they’re all essentially off tomorrow. Calling you of all people while with his friends is risky, but you understand why he’s being so reckless the moment he opens his mouth.

“I need to see you, please,” Yunho drawls, his free palm pressed to his forehead to ground himself, “Drank too much, wanna go home.”

“Where are you, Yu?”

Yunho’s heart feels like it’s ready to take flight at the way you ask this with no hesitation and how he can hear you already shuffling to grab clothes. Maybe your feelings are as strong as his afterall.

“At that dumb bar near campus. Hwa drove me,” he sighs, and you can practically hear the drunken pout stuck on his lips. “I’ll just send my location… Can you come, baby? Please?”

“Of course, I’ll come take you home. Sit tight, I’m leaving now.”

When you do finally arrive, Yunho lets his friends know that he ordered an Uber to go home, and successfully convinces Seonghwa not to walk with him outside even though his steps feel leadened.

“Go back to karaoke,” he waves him off with an anxious smile, “I’ll let y’know when I get home.”

Parking so close to the entrance might’ve been a bit daring on your part, but you expected Yunho to have some trouble walking too far with too much distance. To offset the risk, you’re donning a black face mask with the hood of your jacket pulled over your head, and you figure that should conceal any particulars about you enough for any lurking eyes. Yunho’s surely more operational than he sounded over the phone, and even though his feet are slow on his way over, he slides in easily enough and even buckles himself in. From there, you focus on leaving the area before either of his friends gets curious enough to look outside.

The drive is comfortably silent. You keep the music low and drive a bit slower than usual to make sure he doesn’t feel too dizzy during the trip. Yes, you care for the man dearly, but the last thing you need is his vomit in your passenger seat. With his head resting idly on the cool glass of your window, he tries to relax his mind and settle the stuttering of his heart. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous to be around you right now.

“Overdid it tonight, huh?” You ask him after a while to make sure he’s still conscious.

“I don’t ever drink this much,” he replies with his eyes still closed, “M’so sorry for bothering you so late.”

“You didn’t bother me at all. Go ahead and relax, we’re almost home.”

His call was perfect timing actually, as you were just wrapping up exam prep for the day. Usually, you don’t take study days seriously, but with this being your last semester you figure giving your all includes taking advantage of the academic liberties that are offered by your university in exchange for not having to go to class. He was on your mind tonight as he always is, and even though the moment is unconventional, you appreciate him finally calling you at all. That’s all you can think about for the remainder of the drive to his home.

This is so embarrassing, he mopes internally. Yunho feels extremely vulnerable with every lug of his feet up his steps to his door. He’s not sure he ever wanted you to see him in such a state either—liquored up and liable to say anything lingering in his chest without inhibition—but it’s too late to worry about those things now.

“Thank you for coming,” Yunho sighs upon entering his abode, shrugging off his coat and kicking his shoes off to a place he probably won’t remember tomorrow.

His throat is dry and itching for something else, anything other than liquor. You know better than anyone that he needs to be drinking water right now and flushing his system as well. Closing his front door, you follow suit with your shoes and jacket.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” you assure him with a smile, “I’ll go get you some water.”

However, before you can slip past him, Yunho’s warm hands gently clasp around your cheeks. Your back hits the door as his sticky liquored lips squish against yours in an affectionate kiss. Much to his dismay, after only a few seconds of gratification you manage to pull back enough to talk.

“Water first, kissing later. Okay?” You chide with a giggle.

Yunho makes a whiny noise in the back of his throat in place of a ‘no’ before stealing your lips once more. This time, his arms fall to wrap around your torso. There’s something desperate about the way his arms squeeze the air out of you as if he loosens them even in the slightest bit you might slip right from his grasp. That’s how he’s felt for some time recently like you’re slipping away right into someone else’s arms. Somewhere deep down in his intoxicated subconscious, he’s able to acknowledge the feeling of his heart slamming against his chest from pent-up anxiety of seeing you again, touching you again… and maybe lack of oxygen. Yeah, perhaps that’s what this intense feeling is building in his chest is, a blatant lack of oxygen. Breathing is just not something present in Yunho’s impaired mind.

You, you, you, you, you!

All he wants to do is think about how he loves you more than you know.

He feels like he’s suffocating, but his brain won’t let his limbs move to breathe, lost in the thoughts and desperation of just needing to be connected to you. Just then, when he feels like he’s about to nearly pass out, you find the strength within yourself to push him from you hastily. The way you gasp for air lets him know that he was inadvertently suffocating you as well. His arms finally release their intense grip and a flurry of apologies tumble from his lips.

“M’so sorry,” he offers one last time, words running together, “I just missed you so much.”

Yunho’s head falls and rests in the crook of your neck while embarrassment floods his cheeks.

“It’s okay, really. I missed you too,” you tell him, lungs settling while you card your fingers through his hair soothingly. He’s so fragile at this moment and seeing this side of him makes your heart melt. You could never be mad at something like a little stolen oxygen. “Let’s get you settled in first though, okay?”

“Please le’me stay like this for a couple minutes…”

He’s a bit dizzy, and your fingers lovingly massaging his scalp are making his heart feel ready to burst out of his chest. It doesn’t matter that he’s older than you, or that technically he’s an authoritative figure in your life. You’re always so soft with him, so attentive to his needs, and tender in your touch. You even came and picked him up while he was a mess, with no hesitation. For some reason, in Yunho’s inebriated mind, he’s so sure that a positive answer to this next question will finally solidify your loyalty and how you truly feel about him.

“Can you stay with me tonight?”

There’s a moment of silence where you’re unusually still, and Yunho can practically hear your answer before you even open your mouth. Mentally, you’re battling with yourself because of premade morning plans with Wooyoung interfering with his request. Normally, you’d never decline to spend some extra time with him, but you’re not sure if blowing off Wooyoung last minute will have some consequences. Yunho’s the most important thing to you, but which choice proves that the most?

“I have some important obligations in the morning, Yu,” you mumble a moment later, unable to outright say no. It’s hard, but you figure the best way to show him his importance to you is to put his career first, ahead of your feelings.

In the crook of your neck you can feel him inhale, and for a second, he’s so still that you could’ve believed that he’d passed out. You’re just about to call his name when you feel him begin to tremble and snivel, and alarm bells begin blaring in your head. Lifting his head with your hands gently, you gaze up at him in panic.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” You comfort him softly, thumbs on either side of his face wiping away fat tears that begin spilling down his rosy cheeks. “I’ll stay, I will. I’m so sorry baby.”

“I can’t do this anymore, ____.”

You’re no longer worried about the warm tears spilling onto your fingers as you are the immediate tightness in your chest at such simple words. Simple, but hurtful. The last time you heard that kind of sentence, it was followed by a breakup. The pang in your chest at the realization that this is what’s probably happening makes you feel sick. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t blame him if your behavior over the last few weeks ended up being the final straw for him, and if leaving him alone drunk was the cherry on top. Your diminished communication and sudden lack of availability with obligations you could not explain… and who knows what he’s heard about your increasing closeness with his TA, if anything. You ponder if maybe that’s why he has been acting differently recently, how perhaps the rumors had finally gotten back to him. It’s hard to meet his eyes while you try to prepare yourself for words you figured you hear eventually but still never built your confidence up enough for.

“Look at me, please,” he requests. It takes a moment, but you find it in yourself to do as asked. The way Yunho’s glazed-over eyes only hold dejection when you meet them lets you know something is seriously wrong. You’ve hurt him, you just know it. You’re not sure what to expect, but it surely isn’t him following up with, “I love you so much, it’s beginning to hurt, ____.”

Yunho didn’t expect this genuine divulgence that he had finally found within himself to reveal to be met with annoyance of all things. The way your brows crease and the corners of your mouth downturn throw him for a loop.

“I know you’re drunk but you really shouldn’t say a serious word like that so easily,” you chastise him in a soft voice.

The gentleness of your tone doesn’t change the fact that you mean that statement wholeheartedly; he’s never used that word with you when sober, so why now? You don’t want to be made a fool of when these drunken words get taken back when he’s in his right mind tomorrow. Being drunk doesn’t excuse playing around with your feelings like that.

“I mean it. I do love you, so much. Not gonna pretend to be so casual about things anymore,” he retorts. While his voice still has that intoxicated twang in it, it’s now alarmingly firm.

That sudden tone and the way his face remains determined to make you understand him make your heart stutter. In the context of romance, ‘love’ is a word you haven’t heard from someone in a long time. To be fair, it’s a word you haven’t offered to anyone you’ve dated in a long time either. How long has it been since you met someone worthy of a word that powerful… You’re at a loss for words. The increasing tightness in your chest with the more you take in the situation won’t let up, and you wonder if he can feel your anxiety through the trembling of your hands still caressing his wet cheeks.

Yunho doesn’t mind that you don’t say it back, he may be intoxicated but he still knows he’s coming on very strong right now. Instead, he adds, “You don’t have to say it back, but I can’t handle not knowing what I am to you anymore. I can’t tell how you really see me.”

The way your face immediately only offers confusion at that final statement is involuntary—his complete obliviousness to how you feel about him, about everything you’ve done till this point, is just baffling. Despite any impending consequences of being involved with your teacher, you’ve given this man so much of your time, your adoration, your body—what is there to question? When you finally take your hands back and place them on your temples, Yunho senses your frustration. He begins to feel bad when he realizes too much liquid courage may have made him go a bit too far.

“Yunho, I thought it was pretty obvious that I want to be with you. I’m just waiting for graduation to say it officially,” you explain. “I– We’ve been dating for 3 months, for Christ’s sake.”

You try to remind yourself that he’s intoxicated and that maybe you should treat this situation with a bit more grace. The next question he throws out completely shatters that mindset.

“Then why did you kiss him?”

The immediate mortification you feel at that string of words hits you like a sledgehammer, and the silence that consumes the room following this question is deafening. Yunho’s eyes hold your shameful stare before you finally become physically uncomfortable, and you avert your gaze sheepishly. Yes, you had considered he might catch you in the act sooner or later, but did it have to be the stupid unwanted kiss of all things? This is not something you had readied yourself enough to be confronted about. It’s something you wish you could’ve taken to the grave if possible.

The lack of an immediate reply to such a simple question has him pressing his palms to his eyes because he feels himself needing to cry again. He’d do anything to turn off those leaky faucets behind his eyes for good right now if he could. Crying over someone he had no business falling for in the first place is exasperating because he knew better. He’s sure he’d be able to compose himself more than this if he wasn’t so drunk as well, but it’s too late for those kinds of thoughts now. Everything is out in the open, all the way down to the intensity of his feelings for you, and there’s no turning back.

“It’s not what you think, Yunho,” you finally offer after taking some seconds to sort out your thoughts. The thing is, there is no other viable option at this point: it’s either tell him the truth or lie and break his heart further. You would never consider doing the latter. “I want to explain, but this isn’t the best time—”

“You can be honest, I promise I can handle it,” Yunho interjects. He runs his hands through his messy hair, trying to mellow himself out and prove that statement, but his insecurities start to get the best of him. Words begin spilling out of his mouth without much thought, “Is it because we can’t go out like normal couples? Am I not giving you enough attention? I know it’s tough right now but—”

“No, no, of course not! None of that matters to me in the slightest.”

“What is it about him, then? If it’s something I can fix or do better, I will. I promise,” he tells you earnestly, but his face already looks defeated. He still can’t even say his name. Seeing him so distraught and broken like this over your actions is like a stiff punch in the gut. The last thing you ever wanted to do was make Yunho feel like he’s not enough.

Instead of answering, you ask him, “Do you trust me?”

As much as he should be inclined to say no with everything he’s seen, or the way you won’t give him straight answers, he just can’t say no.

“Of course I do.”

“Then I’d really love for us to have this conversation in the morning when you’re sober,” you insist, hands seeking out his for comfort and reassurance, “Please, Yunho.”

“And what happens if I wake up alone again?”

There it is. The hint of pessimism screaming at him in the back of his mind slipped through. He remembers the last time you left with no word and how it sent him irrationally spiraling. He just needs that final bit of reassurance.

“I’d never do that to you again, okay? I love you too much to hurt you like that. I promise.”

Yunho's left mute at this reply, damp lashes blinking repeatedly as his brain struggles to compute that you just said three very pivotal words he’s never heard from anyone else he’s ever dated. After not immediately reciprocating his sentiments earlier, he didn’t really ever expect them to come from your mouth anytime soon.

“You…love–”

It happens way too fast, the wave of nausea that consumes him with how overwhelmed he begins to feel. Pulling his fingers away from yours, he clasps a clammy hand over his mouth and stumbles off toward his hallway bathroom in haste. This, of course, is not the ideal response you’d like to get back after fully confessing your feelings to a man. You try not to take it to heart and finally go to grab some water for him while he’s emptying his stomach in the bathroom.

The night comes to a close not too long later with you both burrowed in the blankets of Yunho’s bed, and he falls asleep against your chest faster than your brain will allow you to join. How lucky he is to have alcohol easily lull him to sleep after such a mess, you muse. You suppose this is as good of a time as ever to sort your thoughts and words for your explanation tomorrow. That and the possible consequences following you finally revealing the truth. While Yunho might seem mild-mannered and easygoing on a day-to-day basis, you are now aware of just how sensitive he is as a person inside. He feels with his whole heart, and he keeps certain things locked inside of him. You want him to feel comfortable enough to share those things with you as a partner. You want him to trust you wholly with his entire heart, but you suppose that begins with being entirely honest with him first. He’s more than enough, and you want him to believe that. Before you can let your mind wander too deep into the territory of that subject, your eyes finally feel unbearably heavy, and you fall asleep with your fingers curled around his own a little more securely than usual.

One thing Yunho prides himself in is not being prone to heavy hangovers, and this morning is no different. From his first couple years in college, he had learned that lots of water, sleeping in, and a good meal was the cheat code to his body’s ability to survive a night of binge drinking. This was partially thanks to his first roommate who was a Nutrition Major, because if he couldn’t discourage him from drinking he could at least aid him in recovering from it. Aside from you forcing him to drinking a few water bottles before he could sleep, throwing up the prior night and purging most of it helped a lot as well, of course.

You’re not in bed when he stirs awake, but he can hear miscellaneous noise coming from another part of his home and smell the third element of his cheat code in progress. When he finally ambles out of his room and into his kitchen after chugging the bottle of water left on his nightstand, he finds you cooking something with what little groceries he has stocked in his fridge. The sound of him pulling out a chair at his table tears your attention away from the stove.

“Good morning,” you hum. He seems fully coherent, which makes things much easier on you. “How’s your stomach?”

Yunho rubs his bleary eyes with the back of his hand while yawning, “Much better… What time is it?”

“Around eleven, I think.”

“I thought you had something to do?”

“I canceled,” you tell him, “You’re more important.”

Earlier, while Yunho was still passed out, you found some time to slip away and call Wooyoung to raincheck. You’re not entirely sure if he believed the performance you put on about coming down with something last minute, but it didn’t matter. The least he can do is give you a day off of this charade. You move the food you’ve been working on off of the stove’s eye and turn off the heat before snatching up his mug of coffee and joining him at the table.

You look different this morning, the way your eyes lack any of their usual whimsy or humor, and how you sit yourself to his left with body language more reserved than normal. Your stress is palpable, and that doesn’t help settle the sad feeling beginning to manifest in his stomach when he realizes the conversation that’s about to begin. Nonetheless, he decides to prepare himself for the worst.

“I promised you an explanation,” you sigh, “So let’s talk.”

Messily relaying this story to Yeosang first helped you a lot with finding the confidence to make things more concise if a moment like this were ever to happen. You were able to tell Yunho the full extent of Wooyoung’s actions without getting as emotional as the last time. Even though you were trying to be truthful, you ultimately decided not to tell him about trying to connect with Wooyoung’s ex behind the scenes, as you didn’t want to give him any false hope if things happened to fall through. When you finish spilling anything left lingering in your guts about the entire situation, there’s an unbearable silence that settles over the whole room. Yunho’s eyes are trained on his coffee, finger circling the rim of his mug while he lets his mind run wild. The guilty feeling that washes over you feels heavier and heavier with every passing second of him not replying.

“I’m really sorry,” you finally break the silence with a final apology. “It’s my fault for being so pushy in your office that day. This wouldn’t have happened if I had just taken no for an answer.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, ____,” Yunho tails your sentence quickly. The tension in your chest finally dissolves when he speaks, and hearing his caring voice is really all you can ask for right now. He reaches a gentle hand over the table to cover yours for some well-needed comfort, before offering you a soft, sober smile, “I don’t want you beating yourself up for decisions we made together. I’m a grown man who makes my own choices, don’t forget that.”

When Yunho dares to ask how far Wooyoung has made you go for him physically, you assure him the worst has only been that kiss.

“I’m not going to pretend like this doesn’t fucking suck,” he groans, brows furrowing at the thought of being so stuck between a rock and a hard place, “I would remove him from class if I could. Seeing his face is going to piss me off even more than before.”

“I understand. The semester ends in a couple of weeks though… I know it might be a lot to ask for from you to deal with, but it won’t be too much longer,” you offer resignedly, though it’s not much of a consolation. Optimism is the only thing you have worth giving him at this point. You’re only optimistic yourself while banking on his ex wanting to meet with you. When he goes from frustratedly rubbing his eyes to running a hand through his hair, you feel the need to add, “I’d understand if you don’t want to deal with that though.” Yunho turns to you, his expression one of sheer incredulity.

“You really believe I would willingly let someone like him end our relationship?” The teasing lilt in his voice is refreshing to hear, even if it is a serious question underneath. He reaches his hand over and holds your chin while assuring you, “You can’t get rid of me that easily, okay?”

“That sounds more like a threat than a promise,” you chuckle.

“Maybe he should take it that way, then.”

For the remainder of the week, Yunho tries to bear through the new knowledge that Wooyoung is somewhere on campus turning you into a puppet for his own gain. It hits harder on the days when he texts you in an effort to check in on things but is met with radio silence. He was made aware that Wooyoung preferred you off of your phone when with him, but goddamn was it annoying. For your sake, he tries to keep these kinds of grievances to himself. He knows he needs to be supportive if he can help it. During this time frame, you also secretly began your effort to contact Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend. Getting left on read with your first message was to be expected. It took her a full day before she entertained you by replying back, even if it was a little snippy. Regardless, her replying at all was a step in the right direction. She opened the door and you planned to slip your way in as best you could. Between Yeosang asking for updates, his ex contacting you sporadically throughout the days, and Yunho checking in occasionally to make sure his assistant isn’t causing you problems that he’s more than happy to fix, you decide it’s best to keep your phone face down and away from Wooyoung when you’re together this week. Even if you want to keep up with your friends to pass the time, it’s just too risky.

“You haven’t told him anything, correct?”

Wooyoung asks this out of the blue when you both convene for breakfast on Friday. You find it funny how neither of them can say each other’s name, but you suppose Wooyoung is a bit more cautious these days to keep you from getting an attitude. You’re much too tired to even entertain such a question, but you don’t want to cause any suspicion by choosing not to answer.

You yawn after muttering, “No, why?”

“He looks at me differently these days,” he muses, pushing his fork into the plush of his lips, “It’s giving me bad vibes.”

“He has a lot on his plate with finals that you can’t help him with. I’m sure the stress is overwhelming. Cut him some slack.”

Picturing Yunho trying to give Wooyoung the evil eye when they cross paths everyday has you turning your head away, suppressing a smile to keep from laughing at the end of your sentence.

“You know better than I do,” he acknowledges with a nod and leaves the conversation at that.

Yunho begins losing a bit more of his resolve that same day when he catches Wooyoung rushing to meet you out the door after class, calling out your name right in front of his face. He doesn’t particularly care for the carefree tone of his voice, and he feels like doing something so openly is too cocky for his liking. His fingernails rake at the material of his slacks irritably from behind his podium as he opens his mouth.

“Wooyoung,” Yunho calls out before he can consult his better judgment.

When his assistant spins to face him, Yunho finds himself at a loss for words. He didn’t really think this part through. His eyes flicker to you, who’s waiting patiently by the door for your puppetmaster to join you, then back to Wooyoung. That’s when he makes the executive decision to steal him away from you for the next hour or so. He deserves that satisfaction at least.

“I wanted to discuss some things about my schedule regarding final papers next week, and then submitting final grades,” Yunho exhales while clasping his hands together.

He throws in a free and easy smile to twist the knife because his assistant loses all joy in his face at his words. The brief glance you exchange with your teacher as Wooyoung reluctantly ambles back to his station holds a world of emotions, conveying everything words cannot. The gratification he receives from simply seeing you nod and smile while departing alone for the day gives him everything he needs to complete his day with renewed composure.

Mondays generally suck for Yunho, but this final one of the semester is absolutely atrocious.

Today, he’s had the worst technical difficulties in both of his morning lectures with no valuable help from the University’s IT department. One of his biggest pet peeves is not being taken seriously when he’s working, especially as a younger teacher, and it seems that they put his issues on the back burner all morning since he’s not one of the elderly professors. Regardless, he made things work even through the giggles of some students. It’s his final class before exam week begins, the least he can do is end his spiel of encouragement towards the final paper deadline on a good note.

If things had ended there, then he would’ve had a decent rest of his day. Spilling hot coffee all over his white button-up that he rarely ever even wears puts a permanent grimace on his face for the remainder of the morning. He tries his best to dab it out with water when he gets a free moment during his lunch break, but he’s one hundred percent sure he made the liquid spread much worse. Coupled with him not even being able to put his tie back on properly in an attempt to fashion it in a way that hides the stain, he’s exactly three seconds away from deciding to go home for the rest of the day.

He decides to work through lunch in his office instead so he can end the day early once he’s finished. At least this way nobody could see how much of a mess he is today. But, after a while of Yunho holing up in his office and hiding from the rest of the world as long as he can manage, his phone vibrates with an unexpected call from San. He presses the answer option reluctantly and puts it on speaker.

Before he can even say hello, San’s voice is already excitedly asking, “You on lunch?”

“Something like that,” he chuckles weakly, and San can hear the clicks of his mouse in the background. When he hears San ‘tsk!’ in disapproval of him working, he sighs, “You know me, work’s never done. Shouldn’t you be teaching a class right now?”

“Bathroom breaks are important for everybody.”

“And you decided to call me during yours why?”

“Listen, I know you told me not to make any unannounced visits to your classroom but,” San pauses to laugh at the foolishness of what he’s about to say. “But, it seems that your student has done this to me today instead. I suppose that means today is fair game, right?”

Yunho’s hands pause their movements as he filters through his mind what exactly his friend might be referring to. When he finally recalls that line from their conversation on the day his friends briefly met you, his face pales. San adds that you seem to be dressed oh-so-pretty today and Yunho’s brows crease, not only in irritation at him talking so liberally about you but in confusion. Yunho’s prolonged silence at what should be insignificant information is duly noted in San’s mind.

Truth be told, San did not call Yunho just for shits and giggles. A few days ago, during a shared lunch break, Seonghwa had come to him secretly about Yunho’s recent behaviors:

“You can’t be serious Seonghwa,” San laughs wholeheartedly at his friend’s implications. “Yunho is a bit desperate these days, but he’s not that desperate.”

“You can’t say I’m being delusional.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m just saying that it probably isn’t what it seems like.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes so far back that it almost hurts, “Enlighten me on why he’s being so secretive when I ask then.”

“You asked him about her directly?”

“Not exactly… but I asked him about dating someone,” Seonghwa leans back in his chair and sighs, “He told me nothing. Barely even got a peep about where he met the woman. A Tinder match has got him so quiet? It just doesn’t make sense.”

“And you think it’s his student because of what exactly?”

“I didn’t say anything at the time but I saw a glimpse of his phone a month or so ago,” Seonghwa snaps his fingers while he tries to remember the details, “That night we went to that fancy lounge uptown, remember?”

“And?”

“When he was using the bathroom, he left his phone face up on the couch. I didn’t mean to pay too much attention to it, but it lit up with a text and I recognized the name.”

San pushes the food around in his Tupperware with pursed lips while he tries to rationalize this revelation. Seonghwa does have a point… Why in the world would you have been texting him at 10 PM? San’s a pretty laid-back teacher himself, but none of his students have his personal number. All teachers do things differently though, he knows this. Still…

San lowers his voice to ask, “What did the message say?”

“I didn’t see that part,” his friend continues, the disappointment in his voice making San snicker, “He came back too quickly. I mentioned it in passing though, and he said they text occasionally about her schoolwork.”

Seonghwa uses his fingers to put air quotations around that last word; as if he’d ever believe a student is texting their teacher close to midnight about “schoolwork”. He’s slightly offended that Yunho thinks he’s that much of a fool.

“That’s not that implausible—”

“I’m calling bullshit. She’s at the very least got a crush on him and he’s playing into it,” Seonghwa states plainly.

San resumes eating his lukewarm leftovers, humming, “I really don’t think he would risk getting fired over hooking up with his student. We barely even see him flirt with people outside of work… Anything beyond that just isn’t him. You know this.”

The conversation didn’t last much longer than that, and San had effectively convinced Seonghwa to simply mind his business at the time. He ponders for a second if he should have a serious talk with Yunho about the repercussions that could come to him if Seonghwa’s speculations were true, as he obviously doesn’t want to see one of his best friends lose their job. San may joke around a lot about these kinds of things, and he’s overly flirtatious with a numerous amount of people that may or may not include younger women, but he knows he’d never cross the line and put his job in jeopardy like that.

It’s always been complicated. Yunho is an exceptionally loyal person and a hopeless romantic, but very few people get to see that side of him. San has seen plenty of women attempt to pursue him with both good and bad intentions, and Yunho has difficulty deciphering sometimes. That being said, when his friend is head over heels for someone, there is nothing he won’t do. There have been plenty of times when Yunho has done some stupid things because of stupid impulses when it comes to women he falls hard for. Don’t get him started about when he had to talk him out of getting a tattoo just because a girl he fell for told him she preferred “bad boys” when turning him down. He feels with all of his heart, and that’s honestly something San admires about his friend.

He supposes while he has him on the phone, he should push the boundaries to see how he replies.

“She’s been outside of my class for nearly half an hour,” San continues in a nonchalant voice, stoking the fire, “I was wondering if I should invite her to join in on the lecture, maybe chat—”

Unfortunately for San, Yunho’s already having a bad enough day, and he doesn’t need his friend joking about trying to pick up his woman.

“Do not bother her,” Yunho interrupts him in a voice with a steely edge that makes the instruction come out slightly more bitter than he intends it to. He immediately regrets letting that kind of emotion slip through and becomes bashful, quickly sputtering a playful jab at his friend instead, “Getting a girl’s attention without buying her a drink first? That would be an amazing feat from you anyway.”

“Getting a girl’s attention at all recently would be an amazing feat for you too,” San quips back with a laugh, but he makes a mental note of this peculiar reaction. It surely doesn’t help extinguish Seonghwa’s conspiracies planted in his head. “Anyway, my class ends in half an hour, so I’m sure she’s just waiting for a friend to come out.”

At that suggestion, a thought crosses Yunho’s mind that makes his stomach churn.

“San, tell me something. Do you have a student named Wooyoung Jung in your class?”

“I do indeed, how did you know?”

I’ve got to be losing my mind…

That’s the only explanation Yunho can come up with as to why he’s speed-walking from his building in the middle of campus to the one that hosts San’s class a handful of minutes away. It’s brisk out, evident by the sharp chill of early December running down his back with every quick stride, but it’s a perfect excuse for why his cheeks are so red. He’s not flustered, he’s just cold… of course.

The moment he spots you rocking back and forth on your feet in front of San’s lecture hall, patiently thumbing away at your phone, his chest aches. You’re dolled up today just like San alluded to, wearing a pretty dress that he’s never even seen you in before. Coupled with some makeup and your hair done charmingly, he gets flashbacks to when you both went on your very first dinner together. This doesn’t fare well with Yunho’s mood.

The tap he does on your shoulder startles you enough to elicit a squeal, and that shock doesn’t change even when you realize it’s Yunho beckoning for your attention.

“I– What are you doing here?”

When Yunho’s brows furrow in offense at your question, you wince. You don’t mean to sound like the last thing you want to do is see him right now, but this is not the best time for him to be showing himself. The last thing you need is for him and Wooyoung to cross paths outside of the classroom with you directly in the middle. Nevertheless, you don’t even get an answer to that query. The moment your arm is snatched and your feet drag while your captor hauls you away from your waiting spot, you internally scold yourself about how you’re probably the easiest kidnapping victim ever. To be fair, he’s a lot stronger than he looks.

“Wait, I have a date with Wooyoung–”

“I do not care,” he snaps back.

He doesn’t bother responding to any more of your attempts of chiding him, eyes too busy following the signs that guide him to where the nearest restroom is. When he stumbles upon an unoccupied handicapped restroom, he sighs in relief and pulls you in before closing and locking the door.

“What is wrong with you?” You sputter in a dumbfounded, hushed voice.

Yunho’s face is splotchy, and he’s visibly agitated while his eyes dodge between your outfit and your face, “Why do you look like that?”

What a silly question, truly.

In his mind, the problem lies within who you’re looking so beautiful for, and not the fact that you look beautiful at all. Yunho rarely gets to see you as it is, but this prick’s got you dressing up for him? Surely this isn’t necessary, because you’re beautiful enough to make anyone jealous as you already are. In his eyes, anyway.

“I just told you I have a date and I needed to look nicer,” you argue. Before he can muster up another pointless question, you fold your arms across your chest, “Right now is really not the time to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m annoyed.”

“Then why are we here, Yunho?” His eyes finally shy away from yours when you motion to your surroundings. He hates it when you use his first name like this because he knows that often accompanies the tone of displeasure. The last thing he wants to do is upset you. You sigh, “Can’t you hold out just a little longer?”

“Dressing up so pretty for him doesn’t help me feel any better.”

“Making a scene about it doesn’t necessarily help anything either, does it?”

You’d snicker at the shameful silence that follows that statement if the situation wasn’t so genuinely distressing to him. He’s genuinely upset, you get it. You’d never admit it out loud, but a piece of you likes seeing him like this: wound-up, needy, and protective. The roles were reversed not too long ago about Wooyoung particularly, so seeing him show that same yearning and agitation when the tables are turned, even if it’s in terrible circumstances, makes you feel validated. Still, you do what you can to ease his mind for now.

“You’re too handsome to be this envious, love,” you murmur sweet nothings. He remains silent, letting those words swirl around in his head while you reach out to fiddle with the kink in his tie until it’s fixed. His lip juts out when you chuckle at the stain sullying his shirt underneath. Your eyes gaze up at his fondly before you add, “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m yours and yours only before you start believing it?”

Yunho soaks in every syllable of that soothing voice of yours while his eyes settle on your glossy lips when they talk. Anything not to look at those eyes that could surely make him get on his knees and apologize profusely for causing a scene. He’s so predictable sometimes, you muse. You’re sure a kiss or two to help settle his jealousy before you have to leave won’t hurt anyway.

Just as you predicted, he can’t help himself, and the feeling of his impatient hands grabbing at your waist and his lips slotting over yours ignites this fire inside the pit of your stomach. Your butt hits against the counter of the bathroom sink and your hands try to find purchase on his blazer.

“Reminders never hurt, right?” he breaks briefly to mumble before slipping his tongue into your mouth. You indulge him, falling victim to that sinful mouth of his as you always do.

And, sure, maybe kissing you should be enough to quell such intense feelings inside of him, but it’s just not. The thought that Wooyoung also has the ability to kiss you whenever he wants to enhance whatever convoluted plan he has going on makes it almost insignificant. Instead, his hands haphazardly drift under the hem of your dress, because he’s the only one allowed to touch you like this. He hopes so, anyway.

His warm fingers drag up the soft skin of your inner thighs with no hesitation, and your hands grapple onto his blazer tightly when he reaches the apex to stop briefly at your clothed cunt. Yunho swallows the surprised yelp you let out into his mouth when he begins to rub up and down, pressing on your clit through the cotton and feeling how damp you already are just from kissing him. God, it never gets old, the way he turns you on so easily. You shudder when he tugs your panties to the side and drags his lips in wet kisses from your lips to your ear.

“I’m gonna be late, Yu…” you complain, voice airy and whiny when his thumb rubs at your clit.

“I’m really sorry,” he murmurs while kissing the shell of your ear, “I’m just really pissed off today. You understand, right, angel?”

He punctuates that statement by finally slipping two fingers into your sopping cunt.

Yunho’s a mess.

He stares at himself in the mirror behind you while his fingers busy themselves with pushing in and out of your cunt. How did he get to such a point, experiencing so many intense emotions over someone he never should’ve fallen in love with in good conscience? How did he end up in this bathroom with his fingers evoking such sloppy noises from between your legs? He stares at how flushed he is in the cheeks with your glittery lipgloss smeared all over his lips and beyond. This is beyond silly…

Yunho swears he’s not actually such a jealous person, he swears, but the current circumstances are doing a number on his mental health. He deliberately curls his fingers up against that plushy spot he loves to find within you and watches tremors travel through your back. Aside from some tiny gasps and whimpers that are barely audible unless you’re close enough to hear them, you’ve learned your lesson on being quiet in these situations, and you keep your lips pressed together tightly. The way your knees are buckling and your hands are clutching onto him for dear life—yes, this is just what he needs. He’s never felt such an intense need to see someone cum in his life.

“Do you want more?” Yunho suddenly breathes against your ear, pressing a loving kiss on your warm skin before pulling back to look you in the eyes, “I’ll do whatever you want me to, even if you just want me to stop.”

As God is his witness, he means every word. He’ll get down on his knees and suck an orgasm from you if you want him to. He’ll hold you against the wall and fuck any word other than his name out of your head if you want him to. To be honest, deep down he just wants to see if you’d blow off your date with this nuisance—even for just a few minutes—to let him satisfy you. Those shiny eyes of yours innocently blinking at his inquiry could make him melt on the spot. You don’t know how much time has passed since you got dragged in here, or how much time there is left of Wooyoung’s class, but your hands move faster than your brain when considering these things as a problem.

His fingers slip out of your core and into his mouth the moment your hands drop to fumble with his belt hurriedly. There are no words spoken, and the only sounds filling the quiet air of the bathroom are Yunho’s belt buckle coming undone and clattering against the floor tiles once his pants are shoved down. He pushes down his underwear and quickly fists his cock while you turn to bend over the sink. It doesn’t take much to get him hard because seeing you so wet and ready for him to stretch you out with no care for anything else turns him on to the highest degree.

After tugging your panties down what he deems is enough, he doesn’t even bother teasing and prods at your hole so eagerly that it’s almost embarrassing. The soft gasp you both share when Yunho’s tip fully slips into your cunt by accident makes your stomach manifest butterflies.

Your hands grip the edges of the counter while he continues pushing forward, mouth agape and brows drawn together while watching the way the tight skin stretches around him and sucks him in greedily. When you finally feel his thighs meet yours, you release a deep breath you didn’t even know you were holding heavy in your lungs.

“You’re so wet, slipped in so easily,” he huffs, giving you an experimental thrust to see all your arousal coat his cock again before he bunches your dress around your waist in his hands. “Gonna be good for me and stay quiet, right?”

“I should ask you the same,” you whisper, giving him a coy gaze through the mirror.

The smirk tugging at his lips in place of laughing is followed by a knowing nod, and you close your eyes when he finally begins moving his hips. Yunho has no intention of purposefully rushing things to get you back to your obligations any quicker than him bringing you here. Even so, he isn’t going slow or taking his time like he treated you the last time you had sex. No, this is an exceptionally needy fuck today, with hasty, desperate thrusts that make his eyes flutter closed and chest feel heavy with noises of arousal just begging to creep out. He just can’t help himself; Yunho swears your cunt was perfectly crafted just for him.

When he feels your knees buckle after one particular angled thrust, he groans lowly, “Right there, angel?”

With a nod of your head, Yunho's hands move from your dress to your hips, fingertips digging deep into the plush skin while he reciprocates that previous thrust over and over and over until you’re gripping the sink spout to maintain some of your sanity.

“I need more Yu, please,” you beg him in a whisper, cock-drunk eyes meeting his own in the mirror, “More, more—please—harder.”

You want nothing more than for him to just grab a fist full of your hair and make a mess of your sopping cunt—to ruin your makeup and send you back out to Wooyoung looking like a mess. You crave that pure and raw act of Yunho showing him who you truly belong to. Knowing your lover, he wouldn’t decline the opportunity to assert his dominance in this situation, but you have enough self-control to keep those desires to yourself. He’s giving you enough to handle anyway, firmly pressing your stomach to this counter with strong hands and settling on a brutal pace to satisfy your request. The sounds of skin slapping skin echo amongst desperate pants and gasps from you both every time he bottoms out just as fast as he pulls back.

The steamy air of the bathroom is interrupted when your phone begins ringing on the counter. You know it’s probably Wooyoung finally out of class and wondering where you are. You can’t blame him, as you had explicitly told him you’d be waiting for him outside the classroom.

Even so, you can’t seem to care enough to remove your focus from Yunho, your unwavering eyes still locked on his own through the mirror as he continues snapping his hips into you quickly. Yunho would be lying if he said this attention didn’t go straight to his head. He knows you shouldn’t ever have to prove it, but the reassurance he feels from seeing your devotion to him in real time makes his chest tight with adoration. The way nobody else matters to you right now, and how he’s the center of your attention, chips away at every inch of jealousy he was feeling earlier.

Yunho’s hands abruptly pull you off the sink by your arms and up against him. This new position with your back arched and you on your toes has you seeing constellations, and you know you probably aren’t going to last much longer with the way he’s also heaving just behind your ear. When one hand of his moves down to rub sticky circles on your clit, you presume he’s close as well. Yunho feels like he’s going crazy, mind spinning with thoughts of if you keep squeezing him like this, he might just accidentally cum—

“Inside,” you whimper, “Please.”

He finds himself groaning against your skin, teasing you by breathing, “Going on a date with another man’s cum in you’s kinda rude, no?”

“Don’t care, please, please.”

As usual, how can he say no when you beg so cutely? He did say he’d do whatever you want, after all. Your eyes flutter closed and you focus on the final sounds of Yunho’s soft grunts and your shaky exhales mingling in the air while he ruts up into you quickly. It always seems like he knows your body better than you know yourself these days because his hand covers your mouth before he gives the last few sharp thrusts that precede him finally spilling into you, and he successfully stifles the desperate moan you would’ve let fly out once you fall apart in his arms.

“Quiet– Oh fuck, that’s it,” Yunho hisses, letting out a soft moan at the way you struggle to stand while your legs tremble and your cunt milks him for all he’s worth. He’s dangerously too addicted to this feeling already; you should’ve never introduced something so heavenly to him. He can’t stop his hips from beginning to buck again in messy strokes, intent on fucking you through your orgasm even if he’s sensitive himself. Watching the way you bite down on your lip to keep quiet as told, he whispers well-deserved praises in between kissing your skin, “Taking it so well, sweet girl. You really were made for me. Shhh, I’ve got you.”

Yunho only stops himself when your body becomes pliant in his arms, fully surrendering to fatigue and overstimulation. He waits patiently until you can put your weight back onto your feet before finally releasing his grip. When he finally pulls himself out, he’s not quick enough to step away, and his seed spills from you onto his pants still pooled around his ankles. The handful of curses spilling from his mouth at his fuck-up has you shushing him in between breathless laughs.

“I’m an idiot,” he groans.

“Yes, and that’s exactly what you get for dragging me in here.”

Yunho spends a handful of minutes using wet napkins to make his pants look a little more presentable while you do the same with the mess you’ve both made soiling the insides of your thighs. He doesn’t even try to hide the satisfied smirk tugging at his lips while inconspicuously watching you try your best to get his cum to stop seeping out of your core. There’s just not enough to properly clean up, and he finds this just as gratifying as getting you here in the first place. To be fair, you were the one who told him that you didn’t care. On that note, he goes to grab your discarded phone and ushers it your way eagerly.

“You should call your date and let him know you’ll be wherever very soon,” he insists, “I’m sure he’s waiting patiently.”

“Rushing me out after throwing such a fit is crazy,” you mutter while pulling your panties back up. You’re sure he’s just obsessed with the thought of his cum making a cameo on your date.

“A man can’t change his mind?”

As you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, quickly dabbing at your neck with napkins to clean any smeared lip gloss, Yunho leans against the bathroom wall and tries to decide how long he should wait in the bathroom before leaving after you. Between watching the way you apply a fresh coat to your lips and entering post-nut clarity, he’s a bit too scatterbrained to think about this critically, but he’s brought back to the moment when you finally spin around with a sigh.

“Do I look okay?”

There’s a bit of anxiety hidden in that question, evoked by the fear of looking disheveled or being perfumed with the smell of sex, but those thoughts are quickly extinguished when he gives you those eyes that look as though he’s falling in love with you all over again. Maybe it’s that special afterglow that sex grants, but to him, in this moment you look even better than when you enter this bathroom with him. You’re exceptionally beautiful at all times, and he doesn’t even have to answer that question for you to know his thoughts. After planting a quick peck of farewell on his cheek, Yunho stays hidden away against the wall out of view of the door so you can finally leave and call Wooyoung. He’ll hold off on teasing you about the little limp in your walk until you see each other again in private.

The following day, you find yourself seated alone at the familiar table tucked away in the back of the library, the very spot where you and Yeosang often retreated for private discussions. Wooyoung’s ex was supposed to be seated in front of you 10 minutes ago. I’m giving her 5 more minutes before I leave. She was the one who finally asked you to meet with her after a bit of cordial back and forth, so being late to her own plans didn’t necessarily make you as sympathetic to her situation as before. You suppose you should give her a little more grace, considering this is your only opportunity to try and put an end to the madness of Wooyoung’s chasing. Still, you’re a busy woman who needs to prepare for your first exam tomorrow.

“____?”

A soft voice emerges from behind you that has you craning your head to seek out its owner.

“Hello,” you greet her, and your eyes follow her as she ambles around the table to set down her bag to settle in across from you. “Didn’t know if you were still going to show up.”

“I apologize for being late,” she sighs, embarrassment blossoming on her cheeks. With her first question, she wastes no time delving into the purpose of your meeting, “So, how long have you and Woo been dating?”

Due to her Instagram page being locked down, you hadn’t seen very many pictures of her before this meeting. You were only able to get glimpses of her in a scarce amount of posts on her sorority’s page that included all sisters. In person, she’s exceptionally beautiful, and you expected nothing less of someone being so heavily pursued. Your blatant staring and lack of reply to her question have her glancing at you quizzically.

It’s a bit surreal at first, but it finally sinks in that sitting in front of you is the very person of Wooyoung’s desires. An involuntary giggle escapes you at how silly this situation is, as you were never really prepared to be confronted by the very girl Wooyoung kept you from knowing this whole time. She was merely a faceless hindrance to your life, to the point of even doubting her existence at one point. Your reaction doesn’t fare well with her, and she’s noticeably bothered at being laughed at.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” you offer a genuine apology before leaning onto the table on your elbows and admitting truthfully, “Not too long at all, just about a month.”

Still, way too long, you’d like to add. Even though she visibly relaxes at this revelation, you can see a conflicting look flicker behind her eyes.

“I still don’t really understand why you contacted me,” she sighs, but the look in her eyes just doesn’t correspond.

You’re sure she knows exactly why you reached out and exactly what you want to say; surely she already knows she is all Wooyoung wants. During this conversation, you had planned to tell a series of half-truths. She didn’t need to know how you got wrapped up in this mess, but you figured it’d be helpful to admit that Wooyoung only thinks of her when he’s with you. Maybe you’d give her some empathetic spiel about how you “think” he hasn’t moved on from his feelings for her, and make it a bit emotional on your end. Despite those words dancing on the tip of your tongue, ready to give your best performance, you realize that she looks as if she wants to do your job for you. So, you play into it and let her take the wheel.

“You look like you want to ask me something,” you observe, “I’m all ears.”

Sitting up a bit more erect in her chair, she meets your eyes head-on.

“I’d like to ask you if…” But, her voice falters before she can get to the tail of her request.

You wonder if it’s a pride thing that’s keeping her from being honest with herself. She wants him back, you’re sure of it, but she’s the one who broke things off initially. Maybe she’s embarrassed, you muse. You suppose you could gently guide the conversation, posing the question she hesitates to voice herself.

“Do you want me to break up with him?” You ask forthrightly.

“I do,” she finally confesses, “I was hesitant about rekindling our relationship, but you reaching out to me made me feel more confident that I should ask. I’m so sorry.”

Feigning indecision is easy, and pretending to fight your feelings about the situation is the cherry on top. It wouldn’t be believable if you gave up too easily, so the uncomfortable silence is more than necessary. The false front is believable enough because she cuts into the tense silence before you can even respond.

“I made a mistake and I would just like a second chance with him. I know I’m asking for a lot from you, and I want him to be happy, but I can’t pretend that I don’t still love him anymore,” she rambles on, trying her best to be authentic, “We were together for quite some time and—”

“I’m aware,” you finally interject. When she downcasts her eyes, you perch your head in your palm and sigh, “Wooyoung is still in love with you as well. I don’t want to be with someone who’s still caught up on someone else anymore. You understand?”

The way her eyes light up at this revelation makes yours soften. Even though Wooyoung’s actions may be maddening to you, you can tell he genuinely brings her joy. They both truly love each other.

“I don’t know how to go about this,” she admits after a moment of thought.

"Just tell him you want him back. He'll probably end things with me right away," you say bluntly. You feel it's best to give her a gentle nudge to act sooner rather than later, though. So, you add, "I think he’s been planning a trip for us after finals, but I'm sure he'd rather go with you. Please, do it soon."

Underscoring the word please to her might come across as begging, but at this point, you are beyond caring. Going your separate ways after closing this conversation feels like a hefty weight lifted off of your shoulders. In the end, you’ve done what needed to be done in terms of setting the stage; now it was time for her return to the spotlight as the lead.

The next morning, you awaken to a text from Wooyoung finally breaking your arrangement off. He doesn’t go into any specifics of what happened, but at any rate, you don’t need or care to know. As far as you’re concerned, he’s fully evaporated from your life the moment you delete his text thread. You find that your coffee and breakfast taste better than normal with one less weight of stress hanging over your head. Exchanging many [Good luck!] texts with Yunho has him subsequently requesting to meet with you after today’s exam. That is how you ended up dawdling around your favorite aisle in the campus bookstore just before lunch. You had decided to turn in your textbook rentals early and put all of your faith in your notes for these next few days. The only other thing really lingering over your head was to finally turn in your final paper for Yunho’s class before midnight.

You start to get a bit impatient when Yunho fails to show up after your proposed meeting time, and you wonder if maybe he’s in the wrong spot. With calculated steps, you begin to roam the nearby shelves, reluctant to call out his name too many times in such a quiet place. There are only but so many aisles he could be in within this store anyway. After a couple of minutes peeking into different empty aisles, you finally decide he’s simply just late. You venture back to your original aisle and decide to browse in the meantime; this is the last time you’d ever be stepping foot in this place, so it couldn’t hurt to chew over a last-minute purchase. No matter how frequently this aisle has seen your presence in the last few years, you never fail to find something new that piques your interest. Unfortunately, today’s mark is a small book with the prettiest spine, and it sits just out of your reach on the top shelf. Being unobtainable only makes your curiosity even more inevitable.

Stretching every muscle in your body as far as it’ll give to try and at least graze the spine fails; there’s just no use, and it seems appealing to simply give up. The moment you finally fall back on the heels of your feet, you can feel the sturdiness of a chest slyly pressing against your back while reaching for that very same book just out of your reach.

“You should really be more aware of your surroundings,” Yunho’s smooth voice hums next to your ear after feeling you freeze up underneath his presence. He plucks the book from the shelf with ease and sighs. You can feel his breath fan out on your neck and even smell the mint on his breath when he adds a playful jab, “Short stuff.”

“And you should really be more punctual,” you quip back, trying your best to ignore his proximity.

He’s dressed casually today, charmingly sporting a comfortable pair of jeans and an oversized sweater since classes are officially over. If you didn’t already know who he was, a simple glance would have you thinking he was a student himself.

“Oh c’mon pretty, at least I’m here like I said I’d be, right?” He reasons excitedly while offering you a toothy grin that’s way too cute for your liking. The gentle tap of the book on the crown of your head has you scrunching up your nose, and he sets it aside. “You sure this section is private enough?”

“One hundred percent. I used to sit here in my free time when I wanted to read books without buying them,” you admit, adding, “No cameras over here either.”

Yunho eyes you curiously. You're practically glowing today, evident to him by the smile you can’t seem to keep off of your face even when you feign annoyance at his tardiness. He presses a hand to the shelf ledge behind you while the other finds solace in his pocket with his belongings.

“What’s got you so happy today?”

He’s torn between whether you’ll say something about already being rid of one exam, or maybe your spontaneous rendezvous with him here has you that giddy. Your eyes gaze back into his expectant ones and you find yourself finally able to relax for the first time in many weeks.

“It’s all over, Yunho.”

Normally, a sentence like that would seem ominous, but the wide stretch of your lips has his poor heart shooting into his throat. It’s the way your eyes are lit while saying his name that really gets him. His pocketed hand finds its way to your cheek and his thumb skims the apple of your cheek. This kind of smile is something he hopes he can evoke from you on his own in the near future.

“I really missed seeing you this happy,” he confesses, “You look like you can breathe again, ____.”

Something about the way those soft chocolate eyes of his are openly admiring every inch of your face, committing this kind of happiness from you to memory, has you shrinking back in shyness and averting your gaze.

Eager to move the spotlight off yourself, you inquire, “So… why’d you wanna meet up here?”

Oh, that’s right…

Yunho’s decision to drive to campus today mainly stemmed from the fact that you would already be here. He didn’t want you to have to go out of your way just for him to see you, especially after an exam. A clandestine meeting in the bookstore, which you assured him beforehand would be devoid of many students, seemed like a feasible option. He moves to wrap his arms around you, pressing you against his chest in a firm embrace. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist.

“It’s going to be a very busy week for me with grading final papers all by myself,” Yunho begins tentatively.

His eyes close and he focuses on slowing down his heart that’s beating a bit too prominently in his chest when your ear is pressed against it. There are a lot of emotions coursing through him today, many he can’t quite decipher, although he supposes maybe that’s just everything he’s been feeling throughout the entire semester coming to a head: love, jealousy, desperation, angst, and more. Even amongst the newfound happiness blossoming within his chest at such a detrimental obstacle being overcome, anxiety is still the most overwhelming feeling consuming him. It’s a bit nerve-wracking inching closer and closer to the final moments where he can confidently say you’re his with no repercussions. He’s been reflecting on how things will change between you both when finally crossing over this hump, and how things will flourish sans the threats to your futures. He doesn’t want to get too ahead of himself, though.

“Continue,” you encourage him, “I’m listening.”

“I just wanted to see you in person before I have to disappear, and tell you that I know you’re going to do amazing on your exams,” Yunho’s gentle voice imparts. He lowers it further to add, “I’m very proud of you and…”

When he trails off, you turn to plant your chin on his chest and peer up at him with coy eyes, “And?”

“And… I love you,” he whispers, eyes flickering up for the briefest second to confirm you’re still in solitude.

Your gentle laughter at his neverending caution is like music to his ears. He’s still learning how to comfortably say those words without being fearful of not hearing them back. The feeling of his arms letting you go in favor of his hands holding either side of your face steals the opportunity to return his words of adoration. Instead, you put those unspoken words into the kiss he doesn’t hesitate to initiate. When you reach up and pull him by the back of his neck, deepening the kiss and encouraging him to let go, he feels his nerves finally melt away for this moment and this moment only. Yunho pulls away before he can get too lost in the feeling of not caring where you both are, and the way you’re led to chase his lips has heat prickling your cheeks.

“You know, the store’s nearly empty… Might even just be me and you,” you hum. Yunho’s eyes don’t leave yours, even as he feels your hand mischievously skirt down his chest to tap at the belt buckle under his sweater. When your fingers dare to dance further down to the crotch of his jeans, he finally takes hold of your wrist. “Oh come on, are you still nervous?”

He shakes his head confidently, “Just think it’d be more fun to reward you once your exams are over. Making you wait a lil might be fun, no?”

“You sure you can go a couple weeks without it?” You taunt him with a cock of your head. “All that stress while grading finals adds up, no?”

“Is this coming from the same woman who spent two weeks away from me in the arms of another man before I knew about it?” He immediately counters, eyebrows dancing with mischief. “I’ll be just fine. You, on the other hand, are a needy little thing it seems.”

“Don’t make me consider going back,” you warn him.

Yunho eyes find the ceiling as he inhales a deep, frustrated breath. Provoking him like this is unfair and dirty. If he were a man with no self-control, he’d have half a mind to have you in this aisle on your knees, putting that mouth to better use than spouting such nonsense. For now, he simply purses his lips and nods curtly.

“That’s okay, be that way,” he concedes in a voice low enough for your ears only, “Because the next time I get my hands on you…”

He trails off while palming your ass through your leggings and squeezing to his heart’s content. The yelp you let out at his fingers sinking in a little deeper than usual makes a pleased smile tug at his lips. He’d say a lot more, let those lewd thoughts entering his mind go freely for once, but the sounds of feet shuffling not too far away shut him up just as fast as he could think to say them. You both separate abruptly and face opposite shelves. How disappointing…

Yunho clears his throat before finally sighing, “On that note, I look forward to receiving your paper tonight.”

“I look forward to you reading it, Mr. Jeong,” you hum, and he can hear the smile lingering on your words. It’s been quite some time since he heard such formalities come from your mouth. “I hope it ends up being worth the wait. You did help me craft it, after all.”

Behind you, his warm chuckle is followed by him laying a comforting hand on your head.

“See you at graduation, ____,” he whispers.

When he departs, being left alone doesn’t feel so lonely for once.

♡ taglist: @yeos-bunny @sharksandminhos @sannieluvrr @txt-yaomi @thisisntmyrightera @oreoqueen @jadeneliz @atinism @uarmytess @nopension @aaaaajonghooooo @tmtxtf @ateezallday @bloomyroses @shingene @likexaxdaydream @innsomniacshinestar @st4rhwa @eixila @sunflower-png @jadeneliz @witchlaughwoo @ashlurrr @justthattheatregirl @bts-army380 @trivia-134340 @marvelous-llama @uarmytess @hyukssunflower @ateez-atiny380 @dazzlingstarrs @fxckinmingi @348kg @moonlightgrleric @kirilunimimi @tvxqnnie

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joelmillerisapunk · 9 hours

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How quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz

Joel Miller x reader

Masterlist

Wordcount

Summary: The enemies to lovers/one bed/forced close proximity/light grumpy x sunshine/patrol partner fic no one asked for.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, grumpy joel, reader is called "the new kid", reader has breasts but no physical description. It's more tension filled fluffy bickering than smut, but I couldn't help adding a little drop of it in.

Notes: I've been so sick this weekend and was strictly supposed to read fic, but this idea came to me anyway, so I queued it up. I hope you like them as much as I loved writing this. Ty @saradika-graphics , what would we all do without you?

Evening, Day 1

As you fasten the straps of your worn-out boots, the reality of your first patrol with Joel Miller, the cornerstone of Jackson's defence, settles in. You've heard stories about his exploits, and you're determined to prove your worth, that you're more than just another mouth to feed.

The morning air is crisp as you meet Joel by the gate. He grunts a greeting, his eyes scanning the perimeter with practiced vigilance. You fall into step beside him, the weight of your rifle a comfort against your shoulder.

"So, where are we headed?" you ask, trying to break the ice.

Joel's response is terse as he nods in front of himself. "Out there."

You nod, swallowing your disappointment and try again. "So, Joel, I've been studying the maps, and I think if we—"

"Save your breath. We'll check the traps, clear any infected, and get back before dark. That's the plan."

You nod, a little deflated but still hopeful. "Got it.” You press your lips together, taking his words to heart.

The rest of the patrol is silent, save for the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional direction from Joel. You're vigilant, alert, and when you spot a tripwire, you quickly signal to him, earning a curt nod of approval. But upon returning to Jackson, you go to sign out in the patrol book, and your brows furrow at the entry Joel has already made.

Patrol Log - Jackson Settlement

Date: Indeterminate, Outbreak

Pair: Joel Miller/The New Kid

Entry Signout: All clear minus the constant chatterbox that seems to think their voice is a homing beacon for every clicker in a ten-mile radius. - J

You didn't even talk that much. You roll your eyes and close the book a little too hard.

Evening, Day 2

You meet Joel at the gate once more, you notice a flicker of surprise in his eyes when you simply nod in greeting, foregoing the usual stream of words. He grunts in response. You're determined to show him you're not just the “constant chatterbox" he'd written about. You've spent the day replaying his words in your head, using them as fuel to prove your mettle.

—

"Up ahead, there's a blind spot by that old truck. Cover me while I check it out."

You nod, taking up position without hesitation.

As he disappears behind the rusted vehicle, your heart pounds in your chest. Every sound is amplified in the stillness of the evening—the distant hoot of an owl, the rustle of leaves in the wind, and then a low growl that sends a chill down your spine. An infected emerges from the underbrush, its eyes locked onto Joel's last known location. Without missing a beat, you take aim and fire—a clean shot that drops it instantly.

Joel reappears just as quickly as he vanished, his expression one of mild surprise at your swift action. "Nice shot," he grunts begrudgingly before moving on as if nothing happened. A small victory for you; perhaps he's not entirely immune to your efforts after all.

The adrenaline from the encounter with the infected is still coursing through your veins as you and Joel continue your patrol. His rare compliment echoes in your mind, fueling your determination to prove yourself further.

As you make your way back to Jackson, you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. You've not only held your own but also protected Joel's back when it counted.

Back at the settlement, you hurry to the patrol book before Joel can beat you to it.

Patrol with Grumpy McGrumpface complete. All infected cleared. Check back in a few days. And for the record, this chatterbox saved our asses tonight. Maybe next time, you'll remember to check your blind spots—and your attitude.

You add a little smiley face next to your entry, a playful jab at his perpetual grumpiness.

As you walk away from the book, you glance back to see Joel reading your entry, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It's a small crack in his tough exterior, and it gives you hope that there's more to Joel Miller than he lets on.

Evening, Day 3

The air is tense as you approach the gate, the familiar silhouette of Joel Miller waiting for you. There's a certain expectation hanging between you two, a silent challenge that has been building since your last patrol. You greet him with a nod, the same flicker of surprise in his eyes, quickly replaced by his usual stoic expression.

As you set out, the landscape feels different, almost as if it's holding its breath. You're more attuned to the subtle shifts in the wind, the way the light filters through the trees, and the distant sounds that could signal danger. You move with a newfound confidence, your steps sure and quiet, your senses heightened.

We're going to sweep the old high school today," Joel says, breaking the silence. It's the most he's volunteered about the day's plan, and you take it as a sign of trust, however small.

You acknowledge his words with a simple, "Understood," and follow him towards the dilapidated building that looms in the distance. The structure has seen better days, its windows shattered, the playground overtaken by nature, a haunting reminder of a world that once was.

As you approach, you signal for Joel to hold position while you scout ahead. You move with caution, your eyes scanning for any signs of movement. The silence is broken only by the creaking of a swing, swaying gently in the breeze.

You clear the perimeter, finding no immediate threats, and signal Joel to advance. Together, you methodically clear the classrooms, the gymnasium, and the cafeteria.

As the sun begins its descent, casting long shadows across the desolate high school, you and Joel finish securing the premises. The tension between you has simmered down to a low hum. It's eerie how the remnants of childhood laughter still linger among the abandoned desks and faded educational posters. You can't help but wonder what became of the students and teachers who once filled these halls with life.

"All clear," you report, as you finish sweeping the last room, your voice echoing through the empty halls.

Joel grunts in agreement, his eyes lingering on the swing set outside, its melancholic creaking a stark contrast to the silence that now fills the school. "Let's head back. It's getting dark."

You nod, but as you turn to leave, a sudden storm rolls in, the sky turning an ominous shade of grey. The wind howls through the broken windows, whipping up leaves and debris in a frenzied dance. Within moments, the heavens open up, unleashing a torrential downpour that shows no signs of letting up.

"Damn it," Joel mutters under his breath, his gaze fixed on the rapidly deteriorating weather outside. "We ain't makin it back to Jackson in this."

Your heart sinks at his words. The high school isn't equipped for an overnight stay—at least not comfortably—and sharing close quarters with Joel Miller is an entirely different kind of danger than what you've faced so far today. But there's no other choice; safety comes first. You follow him to the least damaged classroom and start gathering materials to make it through the night: some old mats from the gym for bedding; whatever dry wood helps you start a small fire, and some canned food from what remains of the cafeteria's supplies.

As night falls and darkness envelops your makeshift shelter, you can feel Joel's unease mirroring your own—two predators forced into an uneasy truce by circumstance. You both know that despite your differences and his gruff exterior, survival often requires uncomfortable compromises... like sharing body heat when temperatures plummet during stormy nights like these... like sharing a “bed” when there's only one dry spot left in an abandoned high school turned refuge from infected monsters lurking outside.

—

The storm outside rages on, its fury unabated, as the match from your hand hisses out against the wet concrete floor. The darkness inside seems to thicken and you can feel the cold creeping in, the dampness seeping through the layers of your clothing, chilling you to the bone.

Joel's silhouette is barely visible across the room, his frustration palpable in the heavy silence that follows the failed attempt to reignite the fire. The tension that had momentarily subsided now returns with a vengeance, amplified by the primal need for warmth and the instinctual fear of the unknown dangers lurking in the darkness.

Joel rummages through his bag, the sound of items being shuffled around punctuating the silence. He pulls out a small waterproof match case, flipping it open to reveal just three matches left inside. His fingers, roughened by years of survival and hardship, gingerly pick up the first match. The strike against the side of the box is sharp and swift, but the wind howling through the broken windows extinguishes it before it can catch. A second attempt meets with the same fate, and Joel's jaw clenches in frustration. "Damn it," he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible over the storm. He looks at the final match with a mix of resignation and determination. "You know, if you were more careful, we'd have more to work with," Joel grumbles.

"Oh, so now you're worried about being more careful?" you retort, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. "A little too late for that now ain't it Miller?”

Joel glares at you, his eyes narrowing in the dim light. "I've been careful," he growls. He strikes the last match, shielding it from the wind with his hand. But again it fails, leaving you with no heat.

You can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at seeing Joel struggle. "Yeah, well, maybe you should've thought about that before we ended up in this situation," you say.

Joel shakes his head. "You think this is fun for me?" he asks. "Stuck in this godforsaken place with someone who can't stop talkin?”

You glare at Joel, his silhouette a dark shadow in the dim light. "You think I wanted this?" you snap back, frustration seeping into your words. "I'm here because I have to be, just like you."

Joel grunts in response, his gaze fixed on the remnants of the failed fire. "We don't have time for this," he says gruffly, standing up and brushing off his pants. "We need to conserve body heat."

Reluctantly, you both make your way to the makeshift bed, nothing more than a pile of old gym mats and whatever dry fabric you could scavenge and a small emergency blanket meant for one person. The thought of sharing such close quarters with Joel is unsettling, but survival trumps discomfort every time.

You lie down first, turning your back to him as he settles in behind you. The awkwardness of the situation is not lost on either of you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body despite the layers between you. As minutes pass in silence, save for the howling wind and rain lashing out, Joel shifts slightly behind you. His arm drapes over your side as he tries to find a comfortable position—and then his hand accidentally brushes against your breast. You stiffen instantly; it's an intimate contact that neither of you expected nor wanted under these circumstances.

"Whoa! Watch it!" you exclaim indignantly, trying to wriggle away from his touch while still maintaining contact for warmth's sake—a delicate balance indeed under these cramped conditions.

Joel recoils as if he's been stung by a wasp. The tension in the room spikes, and for a moment, neither of you moves. Joel's breath hitches, and you can feel his body tense up behind you. The accidental touch has set off a chain reaction of awkwardness, and you're both acutely aware of the other's presence. "Sorry," Joel mumbles, his voice rough with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to..." His sentence trails off, lost in the sound of the rain pounding against the roof.

You nod, acknowledging his apology, but the damage is done. The line between survival and intimacy has been blurred, and the close proximity is playing tricks on your mind. You can't ignore the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, or the fact that you're both very much alone in this abandoned high school.

Minutes tick by, and despite your best efforts to keep a respectful distance, the reality of your situation becomes increasingly apparent. The cold is seeping in, and the need for warmth can't be denied. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, you find yourself leaning back into Joel, seeking the heat that his body is so eager to provide. He stiffens at the contact, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he cautiously wraps his arm back around you, pulling you closer.

It's been a long time since either of you has felt the touch of another person, the comfort of human contact that goes beyond mere companionship.

Joel's breath is warm against your neck, and you can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against you. It's a startling realization, but it's met with an unexpected surge of desire that you can't quite suppress. The knowledge that he's affected by your closeness is thrilling, and you can't help but wonder if he can sense the effect he's having on you as well.

The line between necessity and want is blurred, and in the end, it's the human need for connection that wins out. With the storm as your only witness, you turn to face Joel, your eyes meeting in the dim light. There's a silent question hanging between you, one that's answered with a soft, almost hesitant kiss. The kiss is an exploration, a rediscovery of a basic human need that has been long neglected. It's a slow burn, fueled by days of tension and the shared experiences that have brought you closer than either of you could have anticipated. Joel's hands find their way to your face, cradling it gently as he deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the contours of your lips before slipping inside to meet yours in a dance that is both familiar and new.

The cold is forgotten as warmth spreads through your body, ignited by the friction between you. You find yourself pressing against him, seeking more contact, more heat. Your hands roam over his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, and a soft moan escapes your lips as Joel's fingers deftly undo the buttons of your shirt, revealing skin that is hungry for his touch.

There's an urgency building between you now—a primal need that cannot be ignored or denied any longer. Clothes are shed hastily; each piece removed reveals another patch of warm skin eager for exploration and connection

As the last of your clothes fall away, the cool air of the high school classroom is a stark contrast to the heat that radiates between you and Joel. His hands trace a path down your sides, exploring the curves of your body. The rough pads of his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

Joel's gaze meets yours, and there's a vulnerability in his eyes that you've never seen before. It's as if the walls he's built around himself are crumbling down, brick by brick, revealing the man beneath the hardened survivor. You reach up to cup his face, feeling the stubble scratch against your palms, grounding you in this moment—a moment that feels both surreal and more real than anything you've experienced in a long time.

With a tenderness that surprises you both, Joel lowers his lips to yours once more, kissing you deeply as he positions himself between your legs. The anticipation is palpable; every nerve in your body is attuned to his presence. As he enters you, there's a brief moment of discomfort followed by an overwhelming sense of fullness—a completion that transcends physicality. You move together in rhythm; each thrust is punctuated by gasps and moans that echo off the walls of the abandoned classroom. The world outside has ceased to exist; all that matters is this connection—this desperate need for closeness in a world gone mad.

Joel's pace quickens; his breath comes in ragged gasps against your neck as he drives into you with an urgency born of months—if not years—of pent-up desire and longing. You meet him thrust for thrust, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back as waves of pleasure crash over you both.

The tension builds within you like a storm gathering strength—a tempest that threatens to sweep away everything in its path until there's nothing left but raw sensation and pure ecstasy coursing through every fiber of your being until finally - release washes over you both in a rush of heat and sensation that leaves you gasping for air. The world around you fades away, replaced by the pulsating rhythm of your shared climax. It's a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

As the aftershocks subside, you find yourselves entwined in each other's arms, your head resting on his chest and the steady beat of Joel's heart is a comforting sound against the backdrop of the relentless storm outside. The cold is kept at bay by the warmth generated by your bodies, and for the first time since this ordeal began, you feel truly at peace.

Eventually Joel's breath evens out as he falls into a deep sleep, his body relaxed and sated in a way you've never seen before. You take a moment to study his face—the lines etched by years of hardship softened in slumber, revealing a hint of the man he might have been under different circumstances. With gentle care, you extricate yourself from his embrace and pull on your clothes, intending to keep watch over the sleeping giant beside you.

The hours pass slowly; dawn is still a distant promise when you hear it—the unmistakable sound of movement outside your refuge. Your senses immediately go on high alert; adrenaline courses through your veins as you cautiously approach one of the broken windows, rifle at the ready. The storm has lessened but not enough to obscure the shapes moving in the pre-dawn gloom. Infected? Or something worse?

You glance back at Joel, still lost in sleep, and make a split-second decision. You won't let whatever danger lurks outside reach him while he's vulnerable. Steeling yourself, you slip out into the storm-ravaged landscape. The rain pelts against your skin, a relentless barrage that does little to dampen your resolve. You move with purpose, your eyes scanning the darkness for any signs of movement.

The high school grounds are eerily quiet, save for the occasional clap of thunder echoing in the distance. You keep low, using the remnants of the playground equipment as cover as you make your way towards the source of the disturbance. The last thing you want is to lead any potential threats back to Joel.

As you approach the perimeter of the school, you catch sight of a small group of infected, their grotesque forms illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning. They seem disoriented, their movements erratic as they struggle against the wind and rain. It's clear they're not here for you; they're simply passing through, driven by some primal instinct to seek shelter from the storm.

You take a deep breath, steadying your aim as you prepare to engage. The first shot rings out, echoing through the deserted schoolyard. One of the infected drops to the ground, its body convulsing before falling still. The others turn towards the sound, their milky eyes searching for the source of the threat.

You fire again, and then again, each shot carefully placed to conserve ammunition. The infected fall one by one, their bodies piling up in the mud as you advance, keeping the upper hand through sheer determination and skill. But as the last one drops, you hear a new sound—a low growl that sends a chill down your spine.

You turn just in time to see another infected emerging from the shadows, its jaws snapping hungrily as it charges towards you. You raise your rifle, but the mud beneath your feet gives way, sending you sprawling to the ground. The infected is on you in an instant, its weight pinning you down as it tries to bite through your rain-soaked jacket.

With a surge of adrenaline, you manage to free one arm and reach for the knife strapped to your belt. You drive the blade upwards, aiming for the infected's exposed throat. The creature gurgles in pain, its grip loosening just enough for you to wriggle free and deliver the killing blow.

Panting heavily, you push the infected's lifeless body off of you and take a moment to assess the situation. The immediate threat has been neutralized, but you're acutely aware that more could be drawn by the sound of the struggle. With no time to lose, you make your way back to the school, your heart pounding in your chest.

You slip back inside and secure the door as best you can. You turn around and see Joel is already awake, his eyes scanning the room as he reaches for his weapon. The sight of you, unharmed, brings a look of relief to his face, quickly replaced by a scowl. "Where the hell were you?" he demands, his voice rough with sleep and worry.

"I heard something outside," you explain, keeping your tone even. "I went to check it out."

Joel's expression darkens. "You should've woken me up, you could have gotten killed out there," he grumbles, his concern for your safety masked by his usual gruff demeanor.

"I didn't and you needed the rest," you reply, meeting his gaze. "Besides, I can handle myself.”

Joel's jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think he's going to argue. But then he just nods, acknowledging your capability even as his protective instincts chafe at the thought of you facing danger alone. "Next time, wake me," he repeats, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You can't help but smirk at the gruff concern in Joel's voice. There's a part of you that enjoys getting under his skin, challenging the walls he's built around himself. "You know, Joel," you say, your voice light but your eyes serious, "I think you might actually care about what happens to me."

Joel's scowl deepens, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something that looks a lot like vulnerability. "Don't get the wrong idea," he grumbles, looking away. "I just can't afford to break in a new partner."

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. "Sure, Miller. Keep telling yourself that." You walk over to where he's now sitting and nudge him playfully with your foot. "Admit it. You like having me around.”

Joel rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in a reluctant smile. "You're alright," he concedes, his voice gruff. "But don't let it go to your head.”

You can't resist the urge to tease Joel a little more. "I think you protest too much, Joel Miller," you say with a playful grin. "I mean, first you can't stop complaining about my chatter, and now you're almost starting to sound... affectionate."

Joel's eyes narrow, but the ghost of a smile still lingers on his lips. "Don't push your luckp," he warns, his voice carrying a note of fondness that he's unable to fully conceal.

You lean in closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, for someone who pretends not to care, you sure were... attentive last night," you say with a sly grin, your eyes dancing with mischief.

A flush creeps up Joel's neck, and for a moment, you think you might have pushed him too far. But then he chuckles—a low, rumbling sound that you feel more than hear. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" he says, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

You beam at him, feeling a sense of triumph. "Maybe," you admit, "but you like me anyway.”

—

As the first light breaks through the retreating storm, you and Joel prepare to leave the high school behind. You gather your belongings, exchanging quiet glances with Joel as you both acknowledge the shift in your relationship.

The journey back to Jackson is uneventful, the aftermath of the storm leaving the world outside quiet. You walk side by side, your boots crunching on the wet gravel. Joel seems more at ease, his usual stoic demeanor softened.

Upon your return to the settlement, the familiar sight of the gates brings a sense of relief. The guards nod in recognition as you pass.

You make your way to the patrol book, your fingers brushing against the worn pages as you prepare to document the latest entry. Joel watches you, his expression unreadable, as you pick up the pen and begin to write.

Patrol Log - Jackson Settlement

Date: Indeterminate, Post-Outbreak

Pair: Joel Miller/The New Kid

Entry Signout: Patrol complete. High school secured. Infected cleared. Storm provided unexpected overnight stay. No serious injuries to report.

You pause for a moment, considering your next words carefully. With a small smile, you add a final note

Casualties: Zero. Zilch. Nada. Unless you count the ego of a certain grumpy individual who may or may not have been out-shot by yours truly.

You cap the pen and step back, allowing Joel to read your entry. His eyes scan the page, and you see the ghost of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he reads your postscript. He doesn't say anything, but the look he gives you speaks volumes.

As you turn to leave, Joel's hand catches yours, his grip firm yet gentle.

Hey," Joel says as he pulls you closer. "I, uh... I don't know how to do this," he admits, his gaze dropping to where your hands are joined.

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, offering him a small, encouraging smile. "Do what, Joel?"

He takes a deep breath, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. "This," he repeats, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. "The... talking about feelings stuff."

You can't help but chuckle at his attempt to articulate his feelings, the corners of your mouth curling up into a smile. "Is this the part where you tell me that despite your better judgement, you've grown fond of me?" you tease, squeezing his hand in return.

Joel rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in his expression. "Somethin like that," he admits gruffly, releasing your hand to run a hand through his disheveled hair. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. And maybe... maybe I don't mind the chatter as much as I let on.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the gruff admission meaning more to you than any grand declaration of love ever could "Well then," you say, stepping closer to him, "I guess this means we're stuck with each other."

Joel's response is a low chuckle. "Yeah," he agrees, his hand finding its way to the small of your back in a gesture that feels both new and familiar all at once. "I suppose it does.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fluff

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sonoyoung · 3 days

Text

— so lets go see the stars

non idol!woozi x gn!reader | first encounter, fluff | 0.9k | so let’s go see the stars - boynextdoor + late night calls - p1harmony

For the first few hours each room of the house was filled with noise of chattering, giggling, obnoxiously loud singing but now it was all quiet. It amazed you that they had so much energy to spare working full time day jobs but then you’d notice how quickly it would die out.

It was your second time spending time with the entirety of the friend group and you had the time of your life, it was like being at an amusement park where each room had different activities to partake in with a new set of people, you had to formally thank Soonyoung for inviting you. Even though the alcohol had collectively hit their tired nerves, and they were all passed out in the most random spaces of the house at 1 am, you could say you enjoyed your night.

Slumber however hadn’t hit you yet so you tiptoed out, through the crevices between Soonyoung and Seokmin who laid flat on the floor. Quietly creeping to the balcony where you could let the midnight breeze rock you to sleep.

Stepping out you immediately notice him, resting on a lounge chair legs crossed with a book placed right on his face, your first instinct was to sneak back inside but you got caught too early. He lifted up the book to peek at you, sitting up in his seat so you could feel at ease roaming around, you gave him an apologetic smile before stepping back out closing the door behind you.

“I thought everyone was asleep inside” you tell him with a soft smile still standing by the doorway, the balcony was lightly lit up with stringed lights but you could tell it was Jihoon.

“Yeah I just came out for some fresh air, its a bit stuffy in there”

It felt awkward for some reason, as you walked over to the edge of the balcony leaning against the barrier you realized you had never actually talked to him prior to this moment. It was a funny coincidence that you happened to be the only ones awake at this hour, maybe it was a calling.

“You’re y/n right?” your lips were parted open ready to speak just as he asked, you turned around to face him still sat on the chair, a breathy “yeah” escaped your lips in response.

“So you’re everyone’s favorite?” you smile your eyebrows lifted in a confused manner, wondering where he got that idea from.

“Am I?”

“Absolutely, though I can’t speak for myself but tonight’s the perfect opportunity to fix that.” He gestures for you to join him by the chairs, bouncing his gaze from the seat beside him back to you.

You felt like you already knew so much about him just from hanging out with his friends but it wasn’t comparable to actually being with him. He had such a fascinating way of thinking that made you want to prompt him to continue his talking just so you could hear more.

“You guys look best when you’re all together, truly. Like a bunch of happy kids.”

Sitting under the dark night sky, the conversation flows in so many different ways, never dying, talking about how they met, staying friends for such a long precious time, some things you envied, some things you admired. The words came out of nowhere but they felt fitting, you wished you could also keep your childish heart and be happily surrounded with love.

For a moment you sat in the silence of the night, you glanced at him, right there looking at you with a small smile on his lips, the look in eyes so pure you couldn’t help the way your heart clenched at the sight.

“What?” you ask softly trying to laugh of the feeling, only making his smile for you grow as he spoke up.

“I just like how you said that, i guess we think alike” he turns his gaze away up to the starry night, your eyes stayed focused on him unconsciously, watching him take in the beautiful twinkling spread across the canvas.

“Has the sky always been this beautiful?” the question made you look up, the feeling of being caught in your fantasy crawling up to paint your cheeks rosey, just as you looked up he brought his eyes back to you, like it was a game to catch the other.

The sky did in fact look more beautiful than it had when you first stepped onto the balcony, it was an odd difference, you didn’t quite understand why but you soaked in it. His occasional glances back and forth between you and the moon finally came to a stop, right where they began, watching the tiredness take over your body.

A couple weak blinks and you were gone, he wasn’t sure if to leave you there to rest or carry you inside but seeing how you slept so soundly, he just grabbed a blanket placing it carefully over your body, loving how you instantly snuggled into the warmth of it. He felt you would become his favorite too.

He stayed there by your side for the rest of the night, for no other reason than being by your side. Morning came you parted ways, exchanging contacts with everyone finally, anticipating the next time you would have fun together.

The name on the screen caught you off guard, you had been in bed for the past hour hoping for slumber to reach you. It had been over a week since you saw each other, and you had been thinking about that night constantly but you never thought you’d get a call.

You answered the phone with his name the confusion apparent in your intonation.

“Is it weird that I missed your voice? I’m standing on a balcony right now and I miss you”

#seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #svt #svt fanfic #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt x reader #lee jihoon #jihoon #woozi #woozi x reader #svt woozi #seventeen woozi #woozi fluff #woozi scenarios

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jasntodds · 2 days

Text

Penance [1]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 7,340

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, mentions of death, mentions of injuries, a little blood, a little bit of violence

Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: It's finally the last book!! I'm honestly so excited lol You don't have to read the previous books to read this one but if you want context, feel free to ask!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Everything is different. Somehow, everything has changed so much over the last month and a half everything that happened before almost feels like some sort of sick fever dream. It's all very real and all of it happened but everything is different today. At least, to Jason it feels different.

Gotham itself is pretty much the same. Bruce has been back and doing his whole Batman thing. The only difference is he doesn't have a Robin now but his methods remain the same, it's the same routine for him, same big bads. It's the same for him. The businesses that were boarded up during Crane's reign are up and running, everything looking to be the same just as it was before. The air around the city is still smoggy and the rain is still cold and wet. The streets sound the same just as they always did and the gargoyle keeps Jason company just as it did before. So much is the same but he feels like everything is different.

Instead of him and Bruce butting heads over him being Robin, they're butting heads over his methods. Bruce has no issue with Red Hood but he does have a problem with the killing part of it. And Jason won't budge. He swears he's not bitter about what happened but he is firm in his belief that change needs to happen. It stops with him and Bruce can either fight him or get on board. They are trying to come to some sort of agreement which is significantly better than how it would have went before. Bruce keeps the Robin suit in the case. He won't tell Jason why.

Their relationship is different now. Jason thinks it might be for the better.

He hopes it's for the better.

His living situation is different than it was before. He has his own place, the main safe house he used while Crane ran the city. It's not anything too special yet and Jason doesn't have too many things that are his but it's coming along. And that is his. It almost feels like it did when he was on the streets but this time, it is his choice. It is his choice to be alone here. And he owns it. No one can come and kick him out, no one can come and arrest him for trespassing and breaking and entering, it is his. It might feel lonely sometimes after living with Bruce and the Titans for so long but it is his and it brings him some sort of pride in a way.

He works with Barbara mostly now. Whenever something a bit more dicey pops up or Bruce is busy, she calls Jason. It's his literal job now and he would be lying if he said he didn't like it. Him and Babs get along better now. Actually, him and the Titans get along better now. There's still plenty of work to be done but his relationship with them has been on the mend, something he is eternally grateful for. He still owes them.

Then there's you.

Things are different with you.

"I will be back as soon as the threat is taken care of." Bruce states as he grabs a few things from the Batcave. "Are you sure you can handle this?" Bruce asks, not because of his lack of confidence in Jason's abilities but rather his general mental health.

"I got it, man." Jason brushes him off. "Nothing I haven't done before. You've gone with the Justice League plenty of times." Jason holds back his snippy attitude, trying his best to level with Bruce and not let his anger get the best of him.

"Before you were..." Bruce trails off in a way that makes Jason shift his weight off his bad leg. "Robin." He nods once, sternly and hard. "That was before."

"I'm fine." Jason nearly whines, desperate to not get into that. They don't talk about it. "I got it." He gestures his arms out casually.

"Okay." Bruce states with a sigh. "Do not blow anything or anyone up again." Bruce warns.

The touch of a smirk pulls at his lips. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

There may have been an explosion near Harbor last week with some gun runners inside. Jason may or may not have been in the area patrolling. And that group may or may not have been the group Jason had been tracking over the last few days. Jason does think the explosion really helped though. They got all the guns and all the people involved in one sweep. Seemed efficient.

"I know it was you." Bruce states easily.

"Nope." Jason shakes his head but the grin is tugging at his lips, knowing damn well he's guilty.

Bruce lets out a sigh, not bothering to argue with him over it. "Just...keep it down, Jason." Bruce states and he's gone out of town a hundred times but something about this being the first time since Jason died and has been brought back almost makes him nervous.

Jason can handle himself. He's been doing it. This is only his second time in the Batcave over the last month and a half and only his third time back at the manor. He's doing well on his own, all things considered, but he is Bruce's son and Bruce does worry even if he doesn't show it.

"It'll be fine, just go. I got it all handled. Pick up your job you're working, almost got the one from Babs and..." Jason pauses feeling his mouth run dry. "Molly said y/n's got a few she's working."

Bruce eyes him, knowing very little but knowing enough about the situation between the two of you. "You should call her." Bruce tries to say it casually.

"No." Jason states simply. "And you're not allowed to give me advice here. The one that got away? Seriously, man?" Jason lets out a scoff.

Of all people, Jason does not want relationship advice from Bruce. Bruce had a solid chance with Selina and apparently, he's still hung up on her and is doing nothing about it. He could have had something great with Talia, too but that didn't end well. Jason is not looking to take advice from Bruce and he's thinking he shouldn't be taking much relationship advice from anyone he knows. No one seems to be getting that department together anytime soon. The way he sees it, this is fine.

It's fine.

"How did Tim know that?" Bruce questions Jason plainly.

"He stalks us." Jason nearly chortles.

"Well, that is all my advice. Call her, Jason." Bruce nods once at him.

"I'm good." Jason shakes his head. "Now go before Clark shows up and drags you back with him."

Bruce lets out a sigh, making his way through the living room. Bruce offered to let him stay at the manor which Jason declined. He's on his own. He can't come back here. If he's even being honest, he's only thinking Bruce called him to "look out over his jurisdictions" just to check up on him, make sure he feels useful as if Jason doesn't have his own work he's doing. Somewhere in his chest he wants to be mad and fight back over it, swear it's because Bruce doesn't think he can handle it so he's setting him up to prove a point to get him back. But Jason bites it all back, deciding to tell his mind to shut up for fucking once and let this just play out.

He sees Leslie once a week and that helps. He thinks he'll just tell her about it.

Jason finds himself back at the place he's calling home, enabling the alarms once he's safe inside. It's messy and somewhere in the back of his head, he can hear the echo of your voice telling him he should clean because he's not busy now. And he looks at the stuff on the floor, almost willing himself to listen, and then he heads upstairs anyway.

If Jason Todd is good at anything, it's being alone. He's been alone almost his whole life. Even when his dad was around, he was drunk or mean...so he was alone. Even when his mom was alive, she was usually high. She wasn't really with him very much. He adapted to what it's like to be alone. To fend for himself always and somewhere deep in his broken heart, he wishes it weren't this way but he's good at it. He has always pushed until he was alone. He is a natural disaster ripping through the hearts of people who love him so maybe being alone has always been better for him. At least the only thing left to destroy is himself.

Even if being lonely is some of the worst kind of hurt. But this is his penance.

One day, he swears, it won't be like this. That's the point of talking to Leslie and getting along with Bruce and being himself today. One day it won't be like this. A day will come when he won't have to punish himself for all the hurt he's caused. He won't have to punish himself for all the scars he bears at the hands of others and himself. One day he won't have to punish himself for the person he could have been. It just has to be like this today. So, Jason goes up to his room where he keeps his training equipment and monitors and he starts to work on the cipher until it's time for patrol.

The city is warm tonight. Cars are crowding the streets while people walk home from their Saturday night out and a smile pulls at your lips from under your mask as you watch the people below you. Patrol has just started and you're mostly waiting and listening, knowing something is going to happen because it always does on Saturday nights. But, you'd be lying if you said you don't like the view from where you are. Something about Gotham always being pretty at night.

The smog isn't visible, it doesn't look dreary as it usually does during the day. It's just street lights and busy people walking about. A part of you can't believe just a few months ago you were terrified of heights and now you actually enjoy the view.

Things have changed a lot since then.

You live with Molly now, probably how it always should have been. You share a small apartment, this one has better locks on the doors and windows. And every night you teach Molly some self-defense, just in case. If you've learned one thing, it's that you cannot save everyone but you can help them. At least if Molly is somewhat prepared, she has a chance though you could tell by how she moved and certain things she already knew that Jason had taught her a few things before San Francisco. Living with her is nice though. She understands you and there is no judgment. You aren't alone.

Gar and Tim talk to you every single day, updating you with whatever is going on. At first, it was fun stuff on the road trip like sightseeing and museums and bowling. Now, it's the hell Metropolis is currently under. You've never been so happy you stayed behind. You do not want to fight a demon. You'll never admit it, but you wouldn't stand a single chance against Rachel let alone Mother Mayhem and Brother Blood. Though, you are disappointed you missed the whole zombie situation. You're just glad the boys keep you up to date with everything and you talk to Dick and Kory all the time, too. That doesn't feel too different. It feels almost like it did when you first came back to Gotham and you like it this way.

And then there's Jason.

Things are different with Jason.

"Robbery in progress in the East End, convenience store." Molly says through the comms.

"Got it, send the address." You grin wildly behind your mask before you use your grappling hook to lower yourself down the backside of the building.

Molly helping out has been new. You aren't too happy about that part but...Molly was insistent and to tell her no would make you a hypocrite. Molly stays back and is youe eyes in the skies kind of deal which has been very helpful when it comes to patrol. At least that's nice.

You take the bike and head to the address Molly sent you. Patrolling is different now, too. You've always patrolled with Bruce or Jason or the Titans. Even when Jason died, you weren't patrolling. You had set targets and that's who you went out to grab. This is patrol. This is different. You're alone with Molly in your ear. You thought maybe you wouldn't like it, Iike maybe you'd actually be really bad at it being alone. But, if you were being honest, you're really enjoying it this way. You're good at it. And it's fun and you don't have to worry about anyone else. It's just you. Your life. That's it. And you like the thrill a little bit.

Jason shoves the last of four men to the ground, his hands zip-tied behind his back and the man lets out a groan. He glares up at Jason with blood streaming down his nose, his friends all a bit battered but have learned to keep quiet. This one is annoying.

"You broke my fucking nose!" He screams up at Jason.

Jason never quite understood why people committing crimes who get caught, like in this instance for example, are confused by their injuries. They showed up to rob a local small business and expected to get away with it. They're here to possibly ruin something that someone has earned and worked very hard for just because they can. A broken nose seems to be a pretty good deal.

He's not even a stranger to robbery but these guys walked in there armed and prepared to shoot anyone who wanted to get in the way. Jason was also a teenager and desperate. These four men don't seem to be in the same boat and the way Jason sees it, there was no reason to hold a gun to someone's face for a hundred dollars in a cash register. These are not master criminals.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood or your nose would be the last of your worries." Jason says casually through the modulator.

"Good mood?!" The man yells back as if he's the real victim in this situation.

"Yeah, good mood." Jason echoes back about to make another smart comment until he hears the sound of a motorcycle pulling up.

Jason turns around just in time to see it stop and he'd recognize the bike anywhere because it's the same one as his. He'd recognize the blue and black suit anywhere because it's yours.

You pop the helmet off and Jason swears his very heart just burst into flames into his chest and it might just burn through his ribcage. The corner of his lips starts to tug into a shielded smile at the sight of you and his only thought is that he misses you. He asks about you to your friends, not too often but...often enough for them to know. All of them say the same things, you're doing okay but they're worried. You're working with Barbara, too, running different jobs for the PD and you check in on Tim's parents every single day.

Molly always says the least about you.

Every single bone in his body feels hollowed seeing you. But when you lock eyes with him and you don't look happy, the guilt comes back baring its teeth and digging them right into his jugular.

It has been a month and a half and he is trying his best. It hasn't been easy and some days he doesn't try but generally, he's trying. It's hard whenever every breath he takes is haunted by the day he took his last. It's hard trying to figure out his footing. Jason Todd is Red Hood. He knows that. He is Red Hood. Red Hood protects innocent people and uses any means necessary to make sure they stay safe. But he is not a hero. He is doing what must be done and that is all. Jason Todd is Red Hood but outside of that, he doesn't know yet. Instead, he wraps himself in a straightjacket of guilt and remorse and agony and hopes that'll be enough to repay his debts to misery and happiness.

You eye him and it's like you're being exposed to the entire city in an instant. It's as if your suit and mask have been ripped from your body and every scar and insecurity and vulnerability is being displayed in some sort of sick museum as you see him. You have separate sections of the city. You, him, and Bruce. This is Bruce's section but he's out of town with the Justice League. It would have been Jason's to pick up but you didn't even question it when Molly mentioned it.

You wish you would have questioned it.

It is almost a relief he wears a full-face helmet because you aren't entirely sure what you would do if you saw his face, saw his expression. Would he be happy to see you? Disappointed? Mad? Would there be anything left at all or would he just look at you like he would any other vigilante showing up a little too late to help? You aren't sure which of those would be easier to swallow.

Something builds in the space between you, something hard and damaged, sucking the air out from between you. It snarls back at you both almost daring you to go ahead and try to move. Try to make the space less and see just how badly the teeth of grief will hurt this time. Go ahead and tempt death for old time's sake and guilt. Go ahead and try to mend this and pretend it's some sort of coincidence, as if fate has any hand in this. It bites and gnaws at you both as water brims in your eyes, every emotion bubbling over to the surface and grief screams out to you both.

Go ahead and try again, see just how badly this will all end again. It will only end in bloody hands and shredded agony. Guilt laughs in your faces, a devious crackle as if you are not worth the other. The both of you do not deserve forgiveness for the torture you've caused the other. Walk away. You both can hear it over and over again, guilt and grief and resentment and loneliness, walk away.

So, you do.

You pop the helmet back on your head just as Jason turns back to the robbers.

"Where are you going?" Molly asks through the comms as she watches the tracker on her screen start moving.

"You can see him here." You seethe. "I know you can see him, too."

Molly has all of your locations. She shares them with Bruce. It was part of an agreement with her doing this eyes in the skies thing and you being able to keep patrolling. It's how you all keep your sections of the city. Molly knows Jason is here.

"He wasn't when I sent you, I swear." Molly defends softly. It's not a lie, she just didn't mention when Jason happened to be moving towards the robbery. "He showed up but you were already on your way—"

"So you didn't tell me?!" You yell. "Seriously?"

Somewhere in the last month and a half, grief has metastasized into something resembling resentment. It's not him. You know that. But, seeing him just now brings back too many feelings you've yet to deal with properly, you're trying but you haven't gotten that far yet.

Grief bubbles back and transforms into something like resentment because you should be together. You should fucking happy and you aren't. You are, generally, but there is this void echoing in your chest. A burning pain right on your heart where his name was stitched. It sucks to be blind-sided into seeing him even if the resentment is towards yourself. You just would have liked some fucking warning about it.

You need to be prepared if you're going to see him and you aren't entirely sure you're ready. There's still a lot of shame even if missing him makes you feel like Atlas. Half the damn time it takes everything in you not to call him. Something will happen and he is still the first person you want to tell. But, you're not talking. Instead, you get updates about him through Molly and Gar and Tim. All of them have said he seems okay while sounding worried about him. It's hard not to worry about him. He's Jason. You think that's your only relief, knowing he's at least doing okay.

You just wish you had it in yourself to check in but he said space and you said space. You agreed and guilt and shame suck the very air out of your lungs to the point where you think this is your way of punishing yourself for everything you've done to him. Forcing yourself to not contact him first and check-in. You're punishing yourself but keeping to what you know and staying away from him. Maybe it was him who was always better off.

Molly sighs. "You have to talk to him eventually." Molly rolls her eyes on the other end and decides to drop it. She can hear the engine of the bike roaring louder than usual. This conversation is not one to have at the moment. "Mugging two blocks from you, take a right."

She is thankful the two of you have not put her in the middle. The most that happens is you both asking about each other. Other than that, you don't ask. You don't mention each other. It's as if you only know of each other through your mutual friends. Molly thinks that might actually be worse sometimes.

Jason gets back to his safe house and strips from the Red Hood gear. He heads right for the shower. Seeing you tonight, it feels like a lot. He never tried to kill you but somehow, you're the person he betrayed the most and dealing with that has been a lot harder than most of the rest of it. Your dedication and loyalty to him he thinks has made it so hard. To have someone so loyal and love him the way you did, sends his head fuzzy with regret knowing the pain he caused you.

At first, Jason thought it'd be a week or two. You'd both cave and talk again and then one thing would lead to another. Maybe it wouldn't be the healthiest way to deal with your shit, but you'd be together and you'd figure it out. But then a week or two turned into three and then four and then six. The more time that passes, the harder it gets to pick up the phone. Maybe that's why he asks Gar and Tim and Molly about you. They all say you're good but they're worried about you. They're always worried about you. But at least you've been good and Jason is grateful for that. He just wishes he had it in himself to suck it up and just call you. But, he doesn't so he showers away the thoughts of you and drowns himself in his guilt and regret.

By the time he's out of the shower, his phone is ringing and he's drying his hair with a towel, the white streak staring back at him in the mirror and he's still mad Dick didn't get the same thing he did.

"Yeah?" Jason answers the phone.

"I need your help." Dick states on the other end.

Jason pulls the phone from his head, looking at the caller ID before he puts the phone back to his ear. "With?"

"Training Tim." Dick states.

Jason almost laughs at the very statement. It's not that Dick is asking for help in the training department, he has before. That's fine. It's that Tim is supposed to be Robin out there and Jason knows they are actively fighting demons and zombies. Tim should absolutely be getting trained in between all of that.

"You haven't trained him yet?" Jason scoffs in surprise before he walks out of the en suite and into his bedroom.

"We've been busy." Dick scoffs back knowing damn well Jason knows what's been happening. Dick has mentioned it and Gar gives Dick updates about Jason meaning Gar talks to him plenty. "Between everything that's been going on since we got to Metropolis, we haven't had time."

Jason chuckles softly on the other end. "Yeah, uh, Gar was telling about me about the zombie shit. Fucking Deathstroke? Glad I wasn't there." Jason laughs softly and he can't see it but there might even be a faint smile on Dick's lips. He sounds good.

"Yeah," Dick huffs, running a hand through his hair. "You gonna be able to help?" Dick asks.

"Yeah, I owe you anyway." Jason agrees. "Not gonna go easy on him though. I'm gonna make sure he's ready when he comes back."

It doesn't take Jason long to have his decision. There's something...weird with someone replacing him in a way, as Robin. But, if someone is going to be Robin, they have to be prepared, more prepared than he was. Jason doesn't want someone else to end up like him and he knows Tim, kind of. He owes Dick for everything Jason has put him through and Jason did always like helping with the training. It's not a difficult decision.

"Good, that's what I expect." Dick nearly chuckles. "If he's going to be Robin, he needs a good teacher."

"Wouldn't go that far, man." Jason shakes his head, still getting used to Dick being nice.

"You trained y/n and look at what she can do. That is mostly on you. Do the same for Tim. I'll have him in Gotham tomorrow."

"You just gonna send him to me?" Jason's brows pull together as he puts a hand on his hip.

"No, I'm going to send him on a mission that is all just a ruse to get him there. You'll find him and go from there. Don't tell him." Dick explains simply as if Jason should have known Dick would have a...ruse?

"So, you're gonna send him here on a fake mission with no training as Robin?" Jason lets out a laugh. That's ridiculous and somehow Jason finds himself not entirely surprised. "Why not just fucking tell him, man?"

"I want to instill confidence in him." Dick states, almost defensively. He's trying his best and he also knows that Tim is very confident and maybe he needs to see he needs the help. "Should have done it with you guys. Not making the mistake again."

Jason clears his through. "Yeah, okay, deserved that." Jason shakes his head. "Alright, just let me know when he's on his way and where I need to be. I'll get him ready to actually be Robin."

"Thanks, Jason." Dick's voice is sincere.

"Yeah, don't mention it." Jason lets out a sigh before he hangs up.

He plops onto his bed, his eyes falling onto the helmet resting on the dresser on the opposite side of the room. Right after leaving the manor from talking to Bruce, this is not where he saw Red Hood being. Being a vigilante is now something Jason feels like he has to do, he likes it but he is trained to do it. He's trained to help people and if no one else is going to help them, Jason might as well. It's taken a little getting used to, rebranding Red Hood in a way. Red Hood is not a murderer. He kills really horrible people for the greater good. He targets people like Black Mask and Penguin by working his own circle to steal their business. He sabotages their work and steals their shipments. That part is always a bit fun. Red Hood patrols Crime Alley. He helps them. He is not a murderer.

He's still getting used to it but it's better than it was. Even if the blood on his hands burns from time to time.

This is kind of nice though, the ability to train Tim. He does miss that part a bit, training with someone. Training alone only does so much sometimes. Jason liked helping train the other younger Titans. It made him feel important and now he gets to train Tim. He'll never tell Dick, but it means a lot for him to ask for help here even if it's just because the Titans have been busy.

This is the last one for the night. You've been tracking this group of people who work for a pretty bad pimp in the city. You've gotten a couple of the women to turn and Barbara has put them into protective custody, immunity from any and all charges. It's not them they want anyway. It's the pimp and his right hand but when women stopped showing up, he got wind and went into hiding. So, did most of his men and women. Until tonight when Molly grabbed one of them on a camera in Gotham Heights. You wasted no time in trailing him.

The second this guy sees you, he takes off like a bat out of hell and the only thing you can do is roll your eyes and go after him. They always run. It's like they really think running is going to work for them. Between the cardio and the grappling hook and the bike, why do they think they'll actually get away? They always run.

The guy thinks he's smarter and quicker. Well, maybe he's quicker but he is not smarter. Molly is tracking him through every traffic camera he hits while you stay a good distance behind him until the opportunity comes for you to get onto a rooftop and continue the chase that way. He's heading somwhere, it won't be toward his boss. There's no way he's that stupid but he is heading into the perfect spot for you to grab him.

You turn off and then jump a few more buildings before ducking down into an alley. You walk to the very end and then wait a few seconds for the running footsteps to come closer. You grab a knife from your belt and then just as he goes to run past, you grab him, spinning him and pinning him against the alley wall.

You hold the knife to his neck and press it into his skin, not enough to cause serious damage, just enough to let him bleed. Blood gets people talking quicker and you're tired and hungry.

"Where is he?" You demand.

The man gulps and the blade presses into his neck further, his breathing heavy and shallow. "I don't know who you're—"

"Your boss. Yes, you do. You're all in hiding but you came out and for what? Where he is?" You question again, not in the mood to even let him think for a second he's smarter than you.

He looks at you with terror. Somehow, he wishes it were The Bat that grabbed him and yet he finds himself thankful it's not The Red Hood. The Bat won't kill him but Red Hood would make sure his death was painful if he really wanted to. You're not one to be messed with either. But his boss? That's just signing his death certificate.

You pull the knife away, kneeing him in the stomach before you land a punch to his face. You don't want to kill him. You read his record. Wrong crowd at sixteen. He was probably manipulated into this, too. He's a victim, too. But, he needs to give up his boss.

The man groans, sliding down the wall as he holds his jaw. "Fuck!"

"Tell me." You grit your teeth.

"He'll fucking kill me! I'd rather you just send me to Arkham or Blackgate! I'm not a fuckin' rat." The guy seethes but there's a quiver in his voice.

You roll your eyes. "Yes, I'm aware he'll kill you."

"What the fu—"

"So tell me and give me a reason to make sure he doesn't." You offer. "You think I'm here to kill you? If I wanted you dead, I'd kill you myself. Tell me and we'll protect you." The offer is genuine even if it comes out snippy.

"I don't believe a damn thing you say." The man gives you a weak scoff and diverts his eyes to the street.

"That's a you problem then. I'm trying to help you while you help me." You offer. "It's a real offer."

"Immunity then." The man fires back without even thinking.

You scoff. Does he not realize that the whole vigilante thing is still a crime? You can't promise that. "No. And I don't have the ability to promise that anyway. Work out with the DA. I can get you into protective custody though if you give him up."

Barbara has you working this case involving some sort of ring with sex workers. It's definitely more than just some guy calling the shots and dividing up money. Missing women, bodies turning up, drugs, it all seems to lead back to him. Your argument was that half the people working under this guy are victims, too. Some of those people are given the opportunity to flip and if they do, they're given protection. Barbara said the DA isn't too happy about it and some of the civilians will probably be pissed but you don't care. Not all of them have to go down with the ship.

"Look, he's going to find out you were with me and he's going to think you flipped or you're thinking about it. You're a dead man the second you walk out of this alley if you don't help me and we both know it."

The man lets out a sigh. "Crime Alley." He finally caves. "I don't know exactly where. I heard there are only a few women who know and then his right hand, that's it."

You nod accepting the response. It's way better than nothing. "Thank you."

"You're really gonna help?"

"Yeah, of course." You get to your feet.

"Why?"

You shrug. "You're not the big problem here." You answer casually. "My advice though, take whatever punishment is dealt to you and serve it and then get out. There's a program. The commissioner will give you information about it if they decide to try you."

"Thank you." The guy nods.

"Mhm." You hum, pulling out your own zip ties before you zip tie his hands together but before you get Molly to call Barbara, Molly comes in through the comms.

"Hey, I've got Dick on the other line, you wanna take it?" Molly asks.

"Yeah, actually, I'm done here. Let the commissioner know he flipped and I got info on him so he's good." You answer.

"Got it." Molly answers before she patches Dick in.

"I need your help with something." Dick starts without wasting a single second.

Your brows pull together. "Uh, hello to you, too?" You question as you get back to your feet. "The fuck do you need my help with? I do not want to go to Metropolis." You let out a chuckle before you look out onto the street and then back back into the alley.

"Superman?!" The guy on the ground yells.

"No, Nightwing." You scoff. "Shut up. You're done talking."

"Are you on a job right now?" Dick almost yells and at this point, he expects nothing less.

"Oh, yeah, just wrapping up." Your voice is almost cheery on the other end.

"Okay..." Dick holds the bridge of his nose, not even wanting to unpack that. "I need you to help train Tim."

You cackle on the other end. "Okay, hold on, let me wrap this up. This shit needs my attention." You laugh looking back to the guy. "Alright they'll be here in a few to arrest you but I gotta head out so...sorry about this." You pull your fist back, punching the guy and knocking him unconscious. "Anyway," You start before you shoot your grappling hook at the roof and start your jumping and walking to your bike. "You need me to do what now?"

"I need you to help train Tim to be Robin." Dick repeats.

"Is that not your job?" You quip back with a laugh.

Dick sighs, seeing as he is clearly going to have the same conversation twice. "We've been busy."

"Yeah, Gar and Tim said something about Zombie Deathstroke. Sounds fucking insane. Glad I'm not there." You laugh before jumping onto a neighboring rooftop. "Wait, okay hold on." You shake your head. "You're gonna send Tim here?"

"Yes. On a fake mission to build confidence." Since he's already had this conversation, Dick knows exactly what to cut out and include in his response to get this conversation over quickly.

"Uh-huh." You nod, getting the feeling there's a bit more to this than Dick is leading on. "Right, yeah, got it. Fair enough, I guess. And why are you asking me?" You ask knowing Jason is right there in Gotham City as well.

"You're good at this, you're the newest member besides Conner but well..."

"Superboy." You finish. "Unfair fight."

"Exactly. You also have your combat clairvoyance. Jason always said you were a good sparring partner because you fit." Dick's voice is casual and simple, you know there's something he is not telling you. He's nicer than he was before. The stick is no longer up his ass, but he's being too nice.

"Yeah, he did." You roll your shoulders before jumping to the next rooftop. "And uh, why are you not asking Jason?" You ask before it goes completely silent. And you know immediately. "Oh, you did." You state.

"I did." Dick answers simply.

Of course, Dick asked Jason first. You aren't offended or hurt by it. Asking Jason to train Tim is smart. But, not immediately telling you means one of two things. Either Jason said yes and Dick is setting you both up which makes you want to jump off this rooftop or Jason said no and Dick just wasn't going to tell you. Unfortunately, you're betting on the first option just because you know Jason wouldn't send Tim to the wolves.

"And he said yes, didn't he?" Your voice is a little snippy this time.

"He did." Dick keeps his voice level, unsure if you're going to start yelling or not.

"Okay so you're asking me to help Jason train Tim but Jason doesn't know you're asking me and you weren't going to tell me but because I asked you were obligated not to lie to me in fear I'd be pissed off enough to walk out and so would Jason?"

"When you put it that way." Dick states. "Look, I know it's complicated right now." Dick tries to reason with you.

"We're not fucking talking, Dick like..." You let out a breath. "He probably doesn't want to see me, ya know?" You nearly whine at the thought because you really believe it.

You hurt him.

"I know but this is for Tim." Dick urges.

You might be giving Dick a hard time but you both know you'll agree. Not only is Dick asking for a favor but it's also Tim. You would never not help Tim especially with everything that's happened. You owe Dick and Tim for everything. But, that doesn't make the situation any easier for you.

"Jason is gonna be pissed if he finds out, ya know?" You ask.

"Yeah." Dick answers. "Tim will get the best training from the both of you though."

"Yeah." You roll your eyes. "Fine. Yeah, I'll help and I won't tell Jason. Just when and where?"

"Tomorrow, I'll text you the rest." Dick answers. "Thank you."

"Mhm." You hum.

Dick feels bad for you and Jason. You've both been through a lot individually and together. It's two of the things that brought you together in the first place. You two always seemed to make each other happy and you actually seemed really good for each other. Dick knows first hand it's not easy and it is always complicated. It's always going to be painful trying to work out the romance department while being a vigilante. It's why it didn't work with him and Barbara. It's why it didn't work with him and Dawn. It's not easy. But, he feels bad for you both. It feels like you weren't given a chance.

"Talk to him." Dick states carefully.

You groan as you look to the sky. "You're not giving me a fucking choice are you, Dickolas?"

"You know what I mean." Dick says right back.

While you appreciate the sentiment, you are not taking dating advice from Dick Grayson. As far as you know, Dick's been in love with Kory for almost a year, at least and he has not said a single word to her about it. At least you told Jason. The way you see it, Dick should be taking dating advice from you.

"You tell Kory how you feel about her and I'll have a conversation with Jason." You offer in a higher-pitched voice, offering a bit of bite in your words.

"Okay no—"

"Yes." You quip back. "Don't give me advice if you're not going to take the same advice." You jump to the last rooftop. "She feels the same way anyway." You mutter softly.

"Alright, thank you." Dick cuts you off. "Talk to him. Tim won't know you're helping him."

"Gathered. Just let me know. I know to keep my mouth shut. I got it." You assure him.

"Thank you."

"You owe me." You laugh softly on the other end before ending the call.

After the run-in earlier tonight, you weren't sure when you'd want to see Jason again. At first, you thought about it all the time. Maybe you'd run into each other just as you did earlier and he'd make some quip about you being in his territory and you'd make fun of him for needing your help. Something would click and you'd be back to normal and it would feel good. The void in your chest will fill again and it would be normal. But that's not what happened because more time passed and you think about how maybe he's mad at you. He should be mad at you still. The more time that passed, the more you convinced yourself it was what you deserved. So, you keep your distance on purpose from him. Maybe that's your penance.

But now, you have to face him.

So, you head back to the apartment to mentally prepare. Jason Todd is still the Jason you always loved and you have to act like you're fine. You have to act like it is not eating you away inside to think about him. Everything has been going okay and you're finding yourself in this city. You think your feet are starting to land on solid ground for once. But, the thought of seeing Jason makes you feel like the earth is being pulled from under your feet. It's the one thing you have deliberately not dealt with. So, you know you have to act like it's all normal. If you're going to be able to do this with him, it has to feel normal. You have to feel normal otherwise it'll be sad and awkward and painful. Maybe he won't want your help anyway.

In no way did you expect your first time speaking to Jason again would be because Dick asked for help. But, it looks like that's exactly what's going to happen. And maybe your bones are starting to vibrate with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. You might feel guilty and you might be worried but you miss seeing him. You miss the way his voice sounds. You miss him more than words could ever describe.

Maybe you hope he misses you, too even if you don't deserve it.

Maybe as the night goes on and you get ready for bed and tell Molly about it, maybe you can't wait to see him.

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Tag List: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmesss // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @stainedstardom // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @ginger24880 // @urmomsgayforme5 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz // @lovefks // @laurelthesimp // @strawberryforks // @mxtokko // @kolpvii

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #penance

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atopvisenyashill · 2 days

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Worst things GOT did casting wise:

- making Dany too beautiful (+ styling her in a way that she never has a hair out of place, always wears BLUE - which makes her look peaceful and soft and angelic, not making her burn her hair off etc). I just think of that one official art piece that's in the illustrated AGOT book where dany is bald, with the dragons and sparks and frames around her and its so striking instead of the "beautiful angelic blonde women stand empowered with her tits out" scene we got

- casting Iain Glen as Jorah and not like. a random Lannister (like. Come on. He is a burly and ugly man... why are you casting one of the most beautiful men to play him.... this is how we ended up with dany/jorah shippers)

-making Joffrey too unattractive (this is not meant to disparage JG who is a great actor and seems like a really cool dude and i'm not saying he's ugly but I think from his very first scene Joffrey looks very punchable and it would have been so much smarter to make the audience .. relate to Sansa's infatuation with his golden looks. In my head (and in all the official art) Joffrey looks like a male version of cersei/a younger version of Jaime.)

- making Dany, Jon, Robb, Marg, Brienne etc 10+ years older than Sansa and the younger starklings .... It's not "the main characters and arya (who is so cool and can kill people) + the little children" it's ONE AGE group of equally important characters

Like I know people are upset at Ned/Jon etc being too attractive, WHICH I GET, but I feel like those were very vibe based casting decisions and i'm ultimately fine with that (I also think it's easier for the audience to root for someone if they're attractive so like. I guess they had to do it) but these other things resulated in people's perception of the characters being so wildly different from what they're supposed to be. The real reason people get so angry whenever someone says they wish tamzin had stayed is because they don't like the idea of daenerys not being this ethereal beauty (TM is beautiful but not in a conventional way) that they can fully root for without issue.

1. NO YOU ARE SOOOOOO RIGHT ABOUT THEM REFUSING TO LET DANY LOOK UGLY. it’s not to say tamzin isn’t clearly beautiful, but i think she’s beautiful in the same way gwendoline christie is, which is that she’s very striking and she has a strong presence but she’s not exactly what people picture when they say “typical hot lady” (which is Crazy these are all able bodied white women, like the definition of “beauty” is soooooo fuckijg narrow that tamzin merchant is ~atypically beautiful) vs emilia definitely is, and YES like everything from not burning her hair off to emilia being,,,,,fuller in figure than dany as a fourteen year old would be is just very clear that they saw dany different than the way she is On The Page. i mean i know people whack george for saying that she’s like a sexy funny lady or whatever but george never lets go of the fact that she’s incredibly young whereas d&d completely miss that part of her character.

i will say i Get the criticism of tamzin perhaps not picking up on the conlangs easily because one thing you can say for emilia is that she had a decent head for the conlangs, she’s even still partially fluent in dothraki lmaooo. but all the other stuff they said about why they recast dany it’s like. hmmmmmmmmmm.

2. absolutely right about iain especially because he’s similar to idk paddy in that he’s got CHARISMA but unlike viserys, they didn’t intent to portray him as a deeply flawed, antagonistic character they went in portraying him as like an objectively Good Guy dedicated to dany. he’s just so much less creepy and pushy in the show and has several scenes where he shows some moral backbone - that “yet here you stand” “yet here i stand” scene is sooooooo good for example, the fact that he actually apologizes for spying on dany, giving him the greyscale story & not having him fuck a valyrian looking woman in a brothel 💀, etc etc - and you also just lose some of the creepiness here because emilia is clearly a grown if young woman and ian is handsome, so it’s like. welll of Course you want to root for them to be together! and never mind that this is a Massive departure from their book characterizations!! again, they have this idea of jorah in their head that doesn’t match up with what’s on the page even a little.

3. i do get your point re: joffrey and i think this is my problem with aidan as littlefucker too - they’re too obviously villains and it makes ned and sansa look stupid. like, in the books we have that moment where robb almost decks joffrey which does seem to signal something bad but the crown prince being full of himself doesn’t mean he’s going to threaten his betrothed’s sister with a sword then get his ass handed to him by a toddler. in the show we get QUITE a number of scenes where joffrey is shown to be a brat AND as you say, just like aidan, jack has a Certain Look, he looks like a shitty jock who has allegations against him ajsjdj like irl when jack smiles he’s so adorable!! but in the show they REALLY play up his ability to channel a greasy aura ya know aksjd. when the point of asoiaf is often that villains don’t LOOK like villains, but some of our Main Villains clearly resemble typical villains in the show.

4. “it’s ONE age group of characters” NO YOU ARE SO RIGHT. like, there’s several years difference from robert to ned to cat to the twins to tyrion but they’re all the same generation of characters. there’s that exact same age difference from brienne to robb, dany, jon to sansa, arya, bran, with theon kind of similar to characters like jorah, who are old enough to remember The Before Times but aren’t quite in either generation. but because they wanted dany, brienne, jon, robb, and margaery to be more of a Typical archetype rather than an exploration of that archetype, they aged everyone up and essentially invented another generation between the “adult” characters and the “kid” characters. not to be super nerdy here but one of my favorite worked shoots in wrestling is one cody rhodes did where he was ranting about the way young wrestlers get put through the grinder and he has this amazing line where he sums it up as “old men talking, young men dying” and it’s not to say there aren’t a lot of old dudes Also dying lmao but you really see this where young leaders are often unprepared for their responsibilities and used as puppets by older men and you just MISS THAT when that whole generation is so grown!

it’s like they looked at those themes of war being terrible and all consuming and brutal no matter how justified you feel you are and went “wow war is brutal 😍” LIKE PLEASE????

#asks #anti game of thrones #anti d&d #anons #also i know famous wrestler cody rhodes is not the first person to say something akin to that #but bc i am a nerd. he’s always the first person i think of bc his acting was amazing in that scene lmao aksjsjs #i think he was channeling some real frustration and anger there as someone from a wrestling family and as someone frustrated #with his own booking. ntm the run ins with injury and Death he personally had. and all this being passed down by vince’s old ass.#i think that wrestling problem where multiple generations of a family are mistreated by some old man making money.#is actually not dissimilar from the problems in asoiaf we see.#like tyrion even says himself! back and back and back it goes.#and for what? for why? robb is so young. ned is so young.#just something that feels completely missed by the show!#and here cody rhodes is feeling it in real life akskskdjd

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spaceorphan18 · 3 days

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The Rogue and Gambit Project: Previously On X-Men... Rogue (Part 1)

Ten years before Gambit even came along, Rogue became a staple of the X-Men line. That's a lot of time for her to be established, so I thought I'd give a quick run down of her adventures in the 80s. There's so much to go over, though, I've decided to split it into two parts...

The Basics:

What's her name? Hahahaha, canon has no desire to tell you. It'll take the movies to force the comics to give her a first name and her marriage to give her a last. So, we're getting way ahead of ourselves. But, in case you don't know, it is Anna Marie LeBeau. I'm going to need to keep an eye for when we first learn it!

What's her backstory?? Again, we're not going to find out for a long, long while and... like all superhero origin stories its wonky and weird and doesn't make a whole lot of sense. (Oh, guys, just wait...)

Power Set (via uncannyxmen.net) : Absorb the essential energy of others on contact, allowing her to draw upon a template of their memories, learned skills, and superhuman powers, with the strength of the template proportionate to the side-effects to the victim, ranging from minimal weakness to leaving them temporarily powerless or comatose; accumulated residual templates make her mind extremely difficult to read

She'll have more but... we'll get to that, too....

Previously on Rogue's Story...

Alright, so jumping in, there's a lot of canon to go over in ten years, but Rogue doesn't play a huge role in her first decade. However, she is around, a lot, once she arrives, so I've decided to go over some of the best issues that feature her. Overall, though, Chris Claremont's 17 year run on the Uncanny X-Men is pretty classic, and I do recommend the whole thing if you're ever feeling like really digging into the X-Men...

Anyway... Rogue's best stories during the 80s (Part 1)...

Avengers Annual #10

Rogue's first appearance. This sets up a few key things you should know about her --

She was originally a part of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants working for Mystique. We learn that Mystique (and Destiny) is somewhat of a foster mother to her.

In her attempt to steal powers, she steals from Captain Marvel (Carol Danvers - then known as Ms. Marvel) and absorbs her power set a little more permanently.

That power set consists of flight, invulnerability and super strength - the power set she's often associated with.

Absorbing Carol also means that Carol is often a part of her psyche, and Rogue has somewhat of a split personality for most of the 80s. Often times, Carol comes to the forefront and Rogue herself is buried.

She clearly has no qualms about assault and villainy at this point.

Classic X-Men 44

We do get a little bit of her backstory some years after her first appearance. There are a few nods to this incident before Classic X-Men comes out -- about her past with Mystique and about Cody, the first boy she ever kissed and the time she discovered her powers. (He ultimately ended up in a coma, btw.) He's going to be a seminal part of her story for a long, long time. But this issue lays them out a little more plainly.

I should note: when she kisses Cody and when she runs away from home is not always consistent. Sometimes the kiss comes before she ends up with Mystique, sometimes it's after.

But this issue at least gives us the first real look at it.

Uncanny X-Men #158

The first time she appears in Uncanny X-Men - the main X book of the time. Carol Danvers is on the team at the moment, and spots her. The two throw down. Rogue ends up (kissing!) and stealing Wolverine's powers, Nightcrawler's powers, and Storm's powers. Storm eventually sends her away via tornado. Not a whole lot of character development here as she's purely in a villain role, but it is nice to see her in X-Book.

Dazzler #22-24, 28

Rogue then spends some time in Dazzler's solo book - as one of the primary villains there. Mostly, she's jealous that Dazzler has everything that she (thinks she) wants -- fame, money, the ability to kiss people without killing them... The Dazzler solo is mostly action heavy, but it is interesting to see Rogue in such a villain role, especially since she'll be notable hero for so much of her history.

An interesting note - Rogue takes on Angel, and Mystique wants her to steal his powers, but she's terrified of doing so since she's never absorbed someone with a more physical defining mutation. She also claims that kissing is the best part of her power stealing (she's drastically going to change her mind about this). And she doesn't hesitate to say she'll kill if she has to (an aspect of her character that she does go back on, but when push comes to shove, she will kill if she absolutely has to.)

Uncanny X-Men #171

Rogue finally comes to the X-Men after the voices in her head become too much and she wants help controlling her power. The X-Men stand around debating whether to take her in or not, and Xavier finally gives her a chance despite reservations from literally everyone on the team.

I love this issue. Not only do we see Rogue finally coming on board, but she's drawn much differently in the issue. She's much softer and more vulnerable as she comes to terms that she hasn't been a great person and her powers are something that draws a line from having actual intimacy with anyone.

This is also where we can really see that Mystique (and Destiny)'s parentage has been rather terrible and that Rogue just has zero idea what to do. As an aside - we learn here that she's only 18!!

Uncanny X-Men #173

When Wolverine's fiancée goes missing, Rogue teams up with Wolverine to see what's going on. This starts Rogue's slow integration into the team and how she befriends Wolverine. I don't know if I'd say they're super close over the years, but they do have each other's backs, and they do make a great team -- all of which starts here.

Uncanny X-Men #(177-)178

Mystique comes back to take Rogue home but Rogue isn't about to go. She's found a new home and ultimately does the healthy thing and reject Mystique here. (Mystique takes it relatively well even if she doesn't like it.)

Uncanny X-Men #182

The first issue that mostly focuses on Rogue. We get a big insight into what's going on in her head as her own psyche battles with Carol Danvers. It's a really great issue that digs into who Rogue is and the identity battle that she's going to face for a long, long time.

Uncanny X-Men #185

This is a great issue for the development of Rogue and Storm's friendship. There's a huge conversation about trust and vulnerability and it's an issue that really solidifies the bond they have with each other. This is also the issue where Storm loses her powers, and kicks off a mini arc with Rogue on the run, all of which is really good.

Uncanny X-Men #192

While not a huge Rogue focused issue, she does get to spend some time with Nightcrawler and Colossus and is beginning to really feel integrated onto the team.

After this, things take a turn. For one, Rachel Summers (the alternate reality daughter of Scott and Jean -- ooff, comics) has shown up and has become Chris Claremont's darling. Rogue kind of takes a backseat, and while she'll have a moment or two hear or there, is not a primary focus for a long, long while.

Secondly, we start to move into the crossover era, where the X-Books are less about one shot stories and mini arcs, but become sprawling, cross book stories. It's a lot to untangle, and while Rogue is never center stage through any of it, it's enough that I'll pick it up in Part Two...

#xmen #x men #rogue #anna marie lebeau #the rg project #marvel meta #marvel #marvel comics

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penelope-potter · 1 day

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Falling Forever With You~

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Owl Hybrid! Reader Summary: Alastor invited you to meet him at the library after your performance, but what could he possible want from you? Continuation from part one of 'Falling Forever'

Part 1

Warnings: No one

~~~~~~~~~

Your heart hammered against your rib cage as you slowly walked down the stage. The crowd clapped and cheered for you both but you didn't really noticed it because your gaze was looking everywhere to find Alastor. Charlie started babbling about how amazing it is to welcome everyone here as you sneaked between the tables only to find the radio demon looking around. Your eyes met his and his smile only grew wider as he turned around swiftly and looked behind his back for a last time before disappearing in the dark hallway. You could feel your hands shaking as you started walking to follow him as someone grabbed you by the wrist. "Whoa wait wait what are you doing there sweetcheeks?" You looked at Angel who's gaze was incredible worried. "Nothing...Al just wanted to talk with me about something." You said innocent and smiled awkwardly as he only raised an eyebrow. "Yeah I'm totally sure that he just wants to talk with you..." You sighed. He doesn't understand it. "Angel, I know you just want to protect me from this. But I- well, you know how it is to be in love with someone. And this one sided thing makes me sick. I just-" You stopped and took in a sharp breath. "I know that he's probably not feeling the same as I do. And maybe you're right and he's just toying with me. But I want to hear it from him directly. I want him to say it in my face that he don't feel the same, so I can't cut the rope finally." Angel looked at you sadly and pulled you into a hug. "Aww man my poor friend is really in love. Shit stop it." You let out a tired chuckle. "I wish that would be so easy..." You looked up at him. "Or that it would be obvious like the thing going on between you and Husk."

His cheeks turned more reddish than before as he shushed you. "Yeah yeah okay. Just...promise me you won't agree on a deal with him alright?" His condition shocked you. "A deal? With him..." Would he really be so brash to come up with a deal so that he could use you as his toy forever? The thought of him being so cruel and heartless when he's been so gentle with you all the time, made your heart hurt a bit more than before. "Yes, just promise me that. I can't save your lovey-dovey ass- but I can tell you how stupid you are when you end up crying because I was right. But I can't save you from a deal with him. The least I want for you is to be trapped like I am." Your shoulder dropped and you gave him a crooked smile. "I promise. No deals, and no..." You stopped. "...tears." You continued and held out your pinky for him to clink in. He smiled and bonded his with yours. "Good. Now go on- don't let him wait for too long." You nodded and looked above your shoulder one more time before you were gone, finding Alastor. The library was empty. Of course. You often go here just to read the old books Charlie has somehow managed to get and read here for hours. Almost always Alastor comes by 'suddenly' like he said and sat down with you to chat or read together. You smiled at the thought of the endless nights you two sat on the carpet and read an old novel he liked, or an old Romance book you were too shy to admit that you liked this kind of stuff. He never complained, nor he laughed at you for liking something so cloud headed. He just gave you his soft smile and asked you why you liked this scene so much, why you adore the way the story was written and while you explained it to him, he never broke eye contact. Sometimes his fingers wanders extremely close to yours, so you could feel his nails brushing against your fingertips. You walked further until you could hear a soft melody coming from one of the rooms. The library. You were a bit surprised because it was a song unlikely for him. You once heard it from your old radio he gifted you, and he just stood there for a moment and listened to it. It had a tune more from his time so less modern, he had to like it somehow. He must heard you singing along with it and now he's playing it maybe for you to calm down. It just effected you to be more nervous to be honest. You stopped before the two large doors and raised your hand to open it. Your wings flutter nervously and your tail spread like a fan behind you. Okay, it's alright. It's alright you got this. You thought to yourself before you knocked against the door, didn't waited for an invitation and stood there between the angles. He sat there, on the carpet, on his spot where he's always sitting. He shifted his weight on his left arm and his head turned around to look at you. His eyes were half lidded, the red color of his lids were shimmering like blood in the small fireplace near the bookshelf. "I must say, I was a bit worried that I might have scared you away with my sudden offer sweetheart..." He started and only then you realized that you were holding your breath the entire time. "Why would I?" You asked and smiled at him forceful. You already know how this will turn out.

"You are right. You never let me down. Just like a few minutes before..." He gestured you to sit next to him, so you slowly walked to your spot and plopped down. "Yes...uhm so if- if that's the reason why I should come, I'm incredibly sorry really- I just thought it was a good idea-" He stopped you with his finger against your lips. You almost choked on your words as you just stared at him blankly. He titled his head and took a moment to admire you as he shifted his hand and grabbed your chin. "Oh no sweetheart, I indeed trust you. And it was an exiting memory for me." He said and his smile softened. "A-and what is the reason you got me here then?" He didn’t answered you instant, he took his time to shift his head to the other side, incredible close suddenly, as his eyes found it’s way to your lips. “I wanted to ask you something dearest. And I might already know the answer…” Enough. You blinked two times before shifting backwards to loosen his grip. “Oh...you- you do.” You avoided eye contact as he just raised an eyebrow at you. “What is the matter sweetheart? I didn’t even start to-” “Just stop.” Silence is filling the room and left you feeling hopeless. Tears starts to blurry your view as you tried your hardest to hold the tears from falling. Angel was right. He was just toying with you. He must be. “(Y/N)?” Oh how you hated it. How you hated the way your name rolls over his tongue, or how his gaze seems to read through your soul with an ease when you try your hardest to keep it all hidden. “When you already know the answer why do you want me to say it?” You turned your head, still in the position with him bending forward to you. He didn’t care to move so you just sat there awkwardly as well. As he didn’t gave you an answer you sighed. “I know that you don’t feel the same about me like I do about you. And I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. But please, for god’s sake don’t toy with me. You can make fun of me or tease me I don’t care- but just don’t pretend to feel the same when it’s the opposite.” You fixated a spot near the fireplace and felt your cheeks burn up. God this was horrible, so horrible. You should have known it from the beginning. Angel was right. He kept his act just to use you for his own good. What would have happened if you would have played along? You didn’t finished your thoughts as Alastor once again grabbed your hand and lead it right to his chest. Surprised you looked back at him, his eyes now in a sad kind of way. “Oh sugar, how did I managed to let you feel this way about me?” His gaze never left yours, his hand still on yours on his chest. You could feel his heart through the silk of his coat hammering. “I might be cruel to everyone else, but never to you. I have control over many things but not over this. You are the first person I ever felt this strange attachment, and I must admit that I hated it at first.” He looked down at your lips for a brief second before looking right up again, his other hand slowly raising and hovering near your cheek for you to choose.

“If I would wanted to play with you I would already had you under my hands. But you darling are different. I never loved anyone ever before in this way and it frightens me till this point. I can’t afford myself a weakness like this. To always have an eye to the only precious thing I never want to lose. To have something to lose. But you seem to be worth starting wars for.” He paused as his expression showed a sprinkle of surprise for letting slipping the words out. You just stared at him unsure. Is he really saying the truth? He seemed to guess your thoughts because he pressed your hand closer to his chest. “I don’t have control over this. And I have control over everything about me.” His words let your heart melt and you could feel the heat rushing right up to your cheeks. Everything felt so real, his words his actions as well. You wanted to believe him so bad but something pulled you away from it. It was the pure angst you felt. His hand still hovering over your cheek as you slowly leaned your head against it, your hand stabilized his. “I want to believe you so bad Al...really but-” “Please give me a chance.” Your eyes widened. He rarely took this word into his mouth, nor he ever seemed to beg for something. You searched for anything in his eyes to tell you that he’s lying, that everyone was right and you just should move on, but you couldn’t find anything. You just sighed, shaking. “Promise me.” You said, and shifted your weight forward, he leaning back slowly but still incredible near to you. Your wings flutter and starting to shake as well. “Promise me you won’t play with me.” It took you by surprise as he grabbed your face with both hands for you to look directly into his beautiful crimson eyes. “Never. Satan himself should come and get me then if I ever even think of it. I-” He paused. “love you.” The static of his voice was completely lost, what brought you to shiver. You loved his voice but without the static filter it drove you completely insane. “I love you too. But I guess you already know this right?” His smile grew wider. “I had some theories. But I wasn’t completely sure…” He leaned his forehead against yours. This could be a horrible idea. It could be the end of you. Angel would kill you again. But when it was so wrong like everyone told you, why does it feels so right? “Liar.” He chuckled. “Just for the others….” His mouth now close to your ear. “May I?” He looked at your lips, his face just inches away from yours. “Yes.” Not even a second later he took your face once again and pressed his lips against yours. Your heart skipped a beat as you shyly grabbed his collar. The kiss deepened as his claws ran through your hair and brought you shivers down your spine, as you got braver and also took his face in your hands. He asked for permission with the tip of his tongue and you opened your mouth for him.

It couldn’t be possible wrong when you feel like you’re in heaven when you really are in hell. Alastor’s hands wandering over your back, pressing you against him, as you two shifted and lost your balance and dropped backwards on the carpet. You two chuckled like teenagers on their first make out session and you could feel your whole body burning. He’s now hovering over you, silently admiring you. “Just look at you. What did I done right in my life to be blessed with someone like you?” You just playfully rolled your eyes. “Yeah right…” “Hm what is this?” He came closer to you, your chests touching. “Not used to recieve compliments?” He brushed over your lips with his claw. “Whoever made you feel this insecure- I will find him.” His expression changed to his manic side for a second before getting soft again. Or no, it was something different. His gaze was full of desire, of longing. “You can’t imagine how often I imagined this…” His lips brushed against yours. The thought of him imagine scenarios of you and him kissing or something else made you shake for excitement. “Oh so you daydream about me?” You teased, your wings spreading wide and tickling his arms. “Oh not only on the daytime…” He brushed a feather of your right wing slowly as you started to make a noise. His smile grew wider. “My little songbird...” He continued to brush his claws through your feathers as you grabbed him by his coat and pulled him towards you, his body now pressed against yours once more, he laying on top of you. “Stop teasing me, or I might go on stage once again to escape you.” He titled his head. “Hmm that would be unfortunate. Not when you look at me with those eyes…” He took one of your feathers between his fingers, rubbing it. “...not when you look like an Angel right now.” He looked back at you and his lips brushed over yours again. As the kiss deepened you bit his lower lip a bit what caused him to squeeze. You smiled against the kiss as he pulled apart a few inches. “Rude. I guess you don’t know the outcome for getting into trouble hm?” He licked the corner of your mouth with the tip of his tongue only for connecting your lips once again. His hands tracing over your hips now, slowly finding it’s way to your legs. Your whole body heated up by the sudden intimate touch of him when you were so used to reserved ones. A hand on your shoulder, your back, your head even. The most intimate thing he ever done was to place his hand on your lower back or on your chin. This is new. But it felt so good. Your moment was over as soon as you heard steps coming from the hallway. You immediately stopped, and Alastor looked right up. His hair all messy because of your grip, his smile showed now teeths as he looked back at you.

“I-I think it’s Angel. He wants to make sure that everything is alright…” You said and watched the door, ready for the embarrassment of the evening as you heard a chuckle coming from him. “Oh how badly I want to show off with you, sugar. But I guess this will have to wait a bit.” “Al-” “You started as the door opened and you closed your eyes as you could hear him snap his fingers and the floor under you two began to shift in an instant. A few seconds later you found yourself in Alastor’s room. You were lying on the carpet on the side of his room with two armchairs. He shifted his weight from you and pulled you with him. “I really wanted to show you off darling…” His smile changed into a lustful grin. “...but I guess I am a bit selfish tonight.” You smiled and got up, close to his face of a sudden. “That’s okay I guess. But I think we should go back to the others. They must be waiting for us.” You teased and got up, leaving him alone on the floor. You didn’t came much forward because he swiftly got up and swirled you around like you would be dancing. “They had their act sweetheart. The other one is not meant for them to see…” You couldn’t hide your smile, which he found adorebal. You were so sweet, so innocent. How a soul like you could carry their heart on their sleeve and not already be used by some filthy, disrespectful demon. He knew that he had gotten himself something to be shred apart, something that could be taken away from him. But somehow he doesn’t find it so terrible anymore. Maybe the people were right. When you find something to live with, you will be able to take this burden with you. The candle which you will always be afraid it will be blown out by something or someone. He is aware of that and it scared him more than anything ever in his life or afterlife. But he’s willing to try it. You accepted him as he was, with all of his being. As you came to the hotel, you weren’t afraid of him. The opposite, you always searched for him even when he really tried his best to test you. But you were never afraid, never saw the monster he is and ever was, not being able to sense the danger coming from him. It didn’t changed as you heard all the story’s about him, story’s which were right. You didn’t cared. You never do. You give everyone a chance. Even him. “Can I ask you something dear?” He asked, looking directly in your eyes. Your expression immediately became serious. “Yes. Of course. Is everything alright?” You titled your head, a sudden wave of sadness rolling over your beautiful face, and it almost brought him to his knees as he heard the words from you. “Do you changed your mind?” “W-what? No, never darling!” He said quickly, and grabbed your hands in his. “It has nothing to do with you. It has something to do with me…” You listened, still a worried expression. “Then what is it?”

You asked finally. “I know it seems a bit strange for you. I bet so. But, why do you love me? You can’t accept a monster…” He started but you held his cheeks in an instant. “Hey. Why would you say that?” “Because it’s true. I did nothing good up there. And here neither. The people are scared of me, and I would shred them apart in an instan. The residents in here aren’t very fond of me. You should hate me for the things I did, and you should not love me. Your soul is far too pure to love a filthy like mine…” It broke your heart to hear this from him. He never showed any kinds of weakness and now he’s opening himself up in front of you. Your shoulders dropped and you pulled him closer to you. “There is nothing that I don’t love about you. You did many things but- I don’t know. I couldn’t love someone who wouldn’t misbehave. And you could tell me very terrible thing you ever did and I would love you anyway.” You traced your fingers through his hair, and you could feel how he stiffened under your touch. You caressing his head up to his ears and he slowly relaxed a bit. “Oh darling...how?” He leaned into your touch. “I can’t help it. I don’t know why, but I can count so many things that I love about you.” You smiled and came closer with your face. “Your beautiful voice for example. Or your charming way to talk or act. You always listen to everything I say, and you calm me down when the whole hell is falling apart. You hold me to the ground when I lose track and you managed to get me all flustered when I’m around you. So…” You gave him a feather like kiss on the cheek. “I guess this is a good start for loving you, hm?” He chuckled and leaned his forehead against yours. How blessed I am for finding you sugar.” “I never thought that-” You stopped. Was it really right to ask him again? Maybe you did a huge mistake for accepting his ‘love’. “Thought what?” He pulled apart a bit to look you in the eyes. “That you love me.” You gave him a crooked smile as you loose your grip on him. “...I am everything you don’t like. I come from a modern time, I cry a lot and show my feelings open for anyone to use against me. I’m weak like you would say. That we are friends was already a huge surprise, and now you love me? I-It just feels so surreal.” You looked at him standing in front of you, taking a step forward. “Sweetheart, don’t you see? You make me act like a child with their first love. I never done this before, and I know that I now have something to protect from this hell. But I am ready to risk it all.” He stepped closer and grabbed your hand once again. His smile softened as he buried his nose in the crock of your neck. “You wear your heart on your sleeve darling. And I would despise it by any other, but you made something with me. And I love it.” Your scent made him almost go insane, and how your body is incredible hot against his. Or was it

him all along? It doesn’t matter. The sudden urge to pull you even closer to him and tangle himself around you is so strong it made his heart race. “Well…” You sniffed, he looked up surprised. “I guess I have to believe you.” “Oh sweetheart no more tears.” He gently wiped the tears off your face. “Sorry…” You laughed and tried to blink the rest away. “Don’t be.” His expression got serious suddenly as he leaned closer to you and gave you a light kiss on your bottom lip. “I will tear the whole hell apart, if anyone ever tries to take away your smile. Sugar.” Your eyes lidded like his as you smiled warmly. “I don’t want you to get into any trouble-” “Shush now sweetheart…” He bit your lower lip gently as he talked against your lips, his hot breath tickling your chin. “...everything for you.” The kiss you two shared got more passionate and slow, without the need to lead to something further. It was just you two in this moment, the music from the lobby just a quiet background noise. His smell made your head fizzy and you could feel your heart beating fast against his as your bodies were pressed against another. It all felt too realistic for a dream. You were afraid everything would be gone the second you opened your eyes again. That you would be lying in bed and imagined yourself everything up, but it never happened. He looked at you with half closed eyes, while touching every inch of your skin with a gentleness you would have never expected from him. How can he be cruel and yet so gentle? It doesn’t matter to you anymore. The only thing you hoped is that his feelings would never change. You were pulled apart by the sudden chuckle of his. You looked surprised as he swirled you around, your wings spreading apart so you were hovering in the air, pulling him off his feet for a brief second. “What was that for?” You laughed breathlessly. He looked confused, his eyebrow’s told it. His smile was softer on the edges, his real one. “I don’t know...sudden burst of joy.” He rubbed his hair like a little boy, what brought you to laugh again. You pulled him close to you again and started to clap with your wings. You took him with you just a few inches above the ground, but it was enough for you both to giggle like the kids you were deep down. He never thought he would feel something like this. But with every second he enjoyed it more than anything in his past live. You were his first and last. That’s for sure.

~~~~~~~~~

Part two is finally out! I hope you like it you all :)

Tagging my favorite person again @fraugwinska ♥

#hazbin hotel #fanfiction #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #penelope write's #alastor x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you

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nalyra-dreaming · 1 day

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Hi Nalyra

Cant wait for the new episode and your thoughts on it 😍

Ok, so I was thinking about this the other day. I know you've said many times that you dont think the show will shy away from getting gritty and even darker than it is now and I have that feeling, too.

But I couldnt help but wonder about how they'll handle the reveals about Claudia. Cause so far we have mostly have had "Poor, darling, innocent Claudia who was led to a tragic fate by Loustat who have failed her". And dont get me wrong: They DID condemn her to a terrible fate from day 1 and they DID both fail her, and I truly feel for her fate.

But that's not all Claudia was - in the books. She was also quite vindictive, manipulative in a very cruel way, and ressourceful.

Do you think they will show just HOW malicious and cruel Claudia could actually be when it came to the manipulation of Louis, the way she played him and Lestat against each other HARD, and how much she deeply manipulated Louis even though she hated him and thought lowly of him (him being weak and easily manipulated)?

Or is there a chance they’ll "go easy" on her in their portrayal?

Cause so far Lestat has been painted in a less than flattering light, some of it deserved and other times it's all because of the tale/POV. And Louis will also be shown in a way darker light than we have seen so far.

Will Claudia be given the same treatment?

I think the reveal that Claudia used Louis... will be the proverbial straw that will break the camel's back.

Because that blow was a fatal one in the books. I'm... not sure if I would categorize Claudia as cruel, or malicious. I think in her thinking she did what she had to do and it was probably quite logical to her.

And so I don't see it as going easy on her if they lay out how they both failed her - and how they both never chose her. How everyone failed her. And how she did what she thought she had to do.

Now, @cbrownjc talked earlier about spirit!Claudia, and the fact that she was not benevolent in the books - and I do think that is quite on point (and I like the theory^^).

But neither will the show go the easy route, because all characters, including Claudia, are morally gray.

The show will leave some of that up to interpretation I bet.

Was she cruel? Was she justified? Did she hate them? Did she love them? Did she use Louis?

I think the answer to all of these is a "yes".

#broken--melody #ask nalyra #iwtv s2 #iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire s2 #amc interview with the vampire #iwtv claudia #claudia de lioncourt

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separatist-apologist · 2 days

Text

Never Not Mine

Summary: Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate.

That doesn't mean she has to like it…or that she has to make it easy for him.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3| Read on AO3

Elain knew she’d gotten Ayla into some trouble. For a month, her friend had been locked away in her family's chambers and when she returned, Elain noticed she winced every time she sat down.

You’re making a mess of everything, she thought morosely when Ayla wouldn’t make eye contact with her at all. Arina had retreated back into the library, leaving Elain to return to her overrun garden. She’d begun sketching it out crudely in a journal, trying to map out where things would go so she wasn’t planting blind.

Elain’s garden was the only place she felt true peace anymore. Spending time around Lucien was beginning to feel unbearable—something hot built in her throat if they were around each other too long, spilling into angry words that she couldn’t take back. Elain didn’t know why she couldn’t just be nicer or why the sight of him frustrated her the way it did.

Lucien had given her another gift just that morning—a pretty set of pearl combs she’d thanked him for before tossing them into a drawer that was increasingly becoming dedicated to the things he purchased for her. Lucien was trying, in his way. Everything he gave her was thoughtful and generous—Elain loved the simple elegance of pearls set into silver combs.

They weren’t good for gardening, at any rate—that was what she told herself as she tied a scarf around her head and headed out, prepared for another long day of ripping out weeds until she couldn’t take the seeping cold. She wasn’t alone today. There, hanging around the gates, stood Tanwen.

“Come to help?” she asked, certain he wasn’t there for any particular reason.

“Why not,” he replied, opening the iron for her before following just behind. “What do you need from me?”

“You could rip up that tree?” she suggested, pointing toward a sapling that was more weed than anything. “Or loosen up the soil with your magic?”

“Why not both?” he replied with a lopsided smile. For a while they worked in silence, digging up a pile of weeds they tossed in the center of the garden alongside all Elain’s ruined rocks. It was nice to have Tanwen there, if only to provide a little muscle when she didn’t want to exert herself so much.

“So,” Tanwen began when the skies began to darken and a gloomy fog started to roll over the hillside from the cursed forest. “Have you seen Ayla?”

It took Elain a moment to absorb his words. “I see her, but I don’t speak to her. I think she’s angry with me.”

“Ah,” Tanwen said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should take these to the stables, if you’ll…excuse me.”

Elain watched him go, hair blowing in a vicious wind. Was he asking because he’d been the one to carry her in, or because he wanted to hear more about her? Elain couldn’t be sure. It was wrong to meddle when she’d already been the cause of Ayla’s suffering and yet…

“Lucien,” Elain breathed later that night, greeting her husband sitting in a chair in the bedroom, book in hand. His eyes found her nails, caked with dirt and cracked again. Lucien’s mouth drew into a deep frown, though he said nothing.

Smart, she praised silently.

“Wife,” he replied, as if reminding her of exactly what she was to him. Elain knew they were on borrowed time—at some point she was going to have to get over herself and have sex with him. How long, she wondered? Another month, perhaps? Two? Lucien didn’t want her unwilling, but Elain couldn’t imagine a scenario in which she went to him gladly, either.

“We never had a celebration,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed once she was done with her hands.

“Why would we?” he replied, turning the page of his book without looking at her.

“Why wouldn’t we? Everyone else gets one.”

Lucien glanced up. “You want to celebrate wedded bliss?” he questioned.

Truthfully, no. It would require the two of them to be together all night, touching and dancing and smiling. Elain took a breath. “Yes, I want that. Will you ask your mother to organize it?”

Lucien stared long and hard, as if he could read her thoughts simply by willing it. Elain was careful to leave herself casual, though it did no good.

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” she replied, heart picking up speed. “I just…think it’s strange we haven’t.”

Lucien took a breath. “Does this mean I can expect you to crawl into bed with me that night?”

“I get in bed with you every night,” she snapped, immediately annoyed. Elain didn’t bother mentioning that they were getting a little too accustomed to sleeping beside each other. She’d woken in the middle of the night to find Lucien’s arm flung over her stomach as he drooled into a pillow.

“You keep your night clothes on.”

They were in dangerous territory. “What are you demanding of me?”

Lucien ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m demanding nothing. You’re the one who wants to celebrate our marriage and I…” And he was simply a male. He wanted the right to touch her and perhaps considered this a good negotiation point.

“Don’t host it, then,” Elain said, turning back to the bathroom as a means to escape him. She slammed the door behind her, back against the wood as she listened for his response.

“Cauldron boil me,” he mumbled, but Lucien did nothing else. Even after Elain took a long bath, hoping he might find some other way to amuse himself, but when she came out, hair freshly braided and mostly dried, Lucien was already in bed. He seemed asleep, back facing her as it rose and fell in a steady, fluid motion. He’d pulled his hair out of the strap he’d been wearing, allowing it to cascade over his shoulders and Elain considered, not for the first time, what it might be like to let him touch her. To be curtained with the waterfall of auburn hair, to feel the muscles of his back shift as he moved…

Touch him, a little voice whispered. Elain panicked, drawing her fingers into a fist before sliding them under her body to keep her from doing so. What was wrong with her? The urge had come from nowhere, the instinct to run her finger down the length of his spine so overwhelming that Elain’s hands shook from the effort it took not to touch him.

It was his closeness, she decided as she settled into bed. His male presence and her instinctual response. Nothing more. Still, it took Elain a long time to sleep as a familiar vision crowded behind her vision.

Go away, she demanded. She didn’t want another image of Lucien’s naked form writhing atop her as her mind forced her to contend with what might be if she just gave in. He didn’t want her and Elain would be damned if she made the first move. Or second…or hundredth, actually. She woke a little before him, dressed herself, and made her way down to breakfast before Lucien could speak to her at all.

So she was surprised when the Lady of Autumn came to her, face beaming with joy. “I heard you wanted a celebration,” she said in that sweet voice of hers. The voices in the room fell to a near whisper as everyone listened in, the excitement in the room palpable.

“I would,” Elain said, wanting so badly to be the daughter The Lady of Autumn—Amera—wanted her to be. She saw the way Amera fawned over Arina, who allowed it with glowing cheeks and shiny eyes. Elain bet Arina let Amera throw her a party the morning after, even if she spent the night torturing Eris with a knife.

Elain didn’t want to think about the implications there.

Amera clapped pale, delicate hands together. “Oh, how lovely. It’ll take a bit of time to put together…would you like to help?”

“Yes,” Elain breathed, forgetting why she wanted to do this in the first place. Her own mother could be cold, calculated and careful. There had never been much warmth even for her favorites, and Elain often felt intimidated around her mother. Amera exuded the kind of warmth she’d often wished for as a child. If Amera had asked her to commit a murder, Elain was certain she would have picked up a sword and marched beneath the Lady of Autumn’s banner.

Not that Elain knew how to use a weapon. Perhaps Tanwen could teach her.

Or your husband.

“Should we get started?” Amera asked.

Elain couldn’t suppress her grin. “Nothing would delight me more.”

LUCIEN:

“How do you stand it?” Lucien demanded, interrupting Eris and Cadmus in their private parlor.

“Looking at you?” Eris replied dryly, eyes flicking up from his cards. “I manage.”

Lucien growled, earning a laugh from Conall across the room. He sat on a sofa, the picture of bored nobility while Tanwen tossed a knife up in the air. They were hiding from Beron, who had woken up in a foul mood. It was only a matter of time before he came looking for his sons.

Better to make themselves scarce and wait for the storm to pass.

“You’re very funny,” Lucien said flatly, pulling up a chair to sit with his brothers. “I mean with mother. How do you stand her fawning over Arina?”

Eris’s brows knit together. “I rather like it.”

Of fucking course he did.

“Gets her out of your hair, does it?” Tanwen taunted, clearly bored and looking for sport.

“Her mother is dead,” Eris snarled, eyes flashing dangerously. It hadn’t been more than a year since the bond had snapped and Lucien didn’t think Eris would ever stop chafing beneath it. Even a whisper of insult toward Arina was enough to set his teeth to snapping.

“Elain is planning a celebration,” Lucien informed his brothers, sinking further into his chair as he swiped a decanter of whiskey from the ornately carved table. “All mother speaks of is how sweet and lovely Elain is.”

“She is sweet,” Connall goaded. “If she were my—”

“That’s enough!” Eris barked, unwilling to mop up blood. “She would never be your wife because that would require you to be a male with honor…which you are decidedly not.”

Tanwen chuckled as Cadmus only nodded, eyes flicking from Eris to a scowling Connall. Would Cadmus break them up? That was his usual role in moments like these.

“I don’t have a wife because Elain and Arina electrocuted the only good option left to us. How is little Ayla doing these days?”

Lucien looked up at the ceiling, wondering why he bothered to talk to his brothers at all.

“She’s well,” was all Eris said, laying his cards down with a triumphant smile. Lucien, having the benefit of standing behind Cadmus, cracked a half smile knowing that Eris was outmatched. A scowl darkened Eris’s face as Cadmus chuckled, pulling coins toward his already sizable pile.

No one could outsmart Cadmus in a game of cards.

“If you’re so bothered by your wife, why not remove her from court?” Cadmus finally said, glancing over his shoulder. “Send her to the Mountain Palace, or the Seaside Palace, if you must. Send some of the ladies from court to keep her company.”

The room had suddenly become frosty, the temperature dropping by several degrees. Lucien could feel all of his brothers glaring at him, their disapproval plain. She’d won them over just as surely as she’d stolen his mother and Lucien was jealous. Elain had simply come in and charmed everyone while he’d been trying to win the approval of his family presumably from the day he’d been born.

His brothers acted as if they knew something about him he did not—he was kept just out of reach, tolerated but not one of them. They shared some secret language Lucien did not speak. It didn’t help that Lucien was also a century younger than his next oldest brother, and Eris was nearly three centuries old by the time Lucien had been a baby. They’d watched him grow up, but in his memories, they were all grown.

Why was it so hard for him and so easy for Elain?

“Enjoy yourself, little Lucien,” Connall said in that easy, flippant way of his. “If mother likes Elain, it means you’ve found yourself a keeper. From Spring, no less.”

“It’s just…”

Not what he wanted. Every eye in the room fell back to their hands, refusing to look at him. They knew, though. Even after Eris had sent Jesminda away, even after she’d told him to leave her alone, he was still holding out some sliver of hope that he was going to wake up one morning and it would be Jesminda's dark hair splayed out on the pillow.

Even after everything, he still wanted her.

Lucien knew he was a fool.

“Go to bed, Lucien,” Eris said, rising from his chair. “Go fuck your wife until you can think of nothing and no one else. And if that doesn’t work, take a mistress to amuse yourself.”

“Leave Elain alone,” Tanwen added, a sharp edge to his voice. When Lucien looked around, he found his brothers all looking at him again, their eyes matching Tanwen’s tone.

Right.

She was one of them, but he was not. Lucien strode from the room, determined not to take Eris’s advice. Cadmus’ held promise, though. What if he sent her away after the celebration? Eris would never agree to let Arina join her, but Ayla would likely be allowed. Hells, Elain could hand pick the ladies she wanted to accompany her. And if she picked up with some sentry, well. Lucien didn’t care.

I’ll kill any male who touches her—

Lucien exhaled with frustration, making his way back to his bedchambers where he found Elain seated at a table staring at several different color swatches. She looked up when he walked into the room and without thinking, offered him a pretty half smile.

“Come help me,” she said as Lucien stood there agape. Was Elain willingly asking him to sit in her company? She typically darted off anytime he walked into a room. Lucien walked to her, waiting for the spell to shatter and her to realize it was him and not one of the brothers she preferred.

“What do you need help with?”

“These different shades of pink,” she said, a frown tugging the corners of her pretty mouth. “I hate them all.”

“So do I,” Lucien admitted, drinking in the rosy, spring shades. “What is your theme?”

Elain’s cheeks heated. “Old meets new.”

Spring meets Autumn, he supposed. Elain fidgeted with one of the squares of cloth, unable to meet his gaze.

“Perhaps something darker?” he offered. “More maroon than pink?”

“I thought the same thing,” Elain admitted, setting the little square back on the table. “But your mother has this vision of pink and silver and I don’t want to disappoint her.

“Trust me when I say you’ll disappoint her far more if you let her dress you in something you don’t like.”

“She’s been so nice,” Elain admitted, chewing on her bottom lip. “She’s like my mother if…”

Lucien held his breath, waiting for Elain to finish.

“Nevermind,” she said with a sigh, gathering up her swatches. “I—”

“No,” he breathed, strangely desperate. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing, I promise,” she said, but Lucien wasn’t going to be deterred. He’d take anything, any little piece of information that would give him a more solid footing with the stranger he called a wife. They’d been married for nearly two weeks and Lucien knew practically nothing about her. Elain didn’t give up her secrets easily and in her defense, Lucien hadn’t tried to make conversation with her, either.

“Tell me anyway.”

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?” she said, bracing herself against the table. Lucien scooted closer as Elain lifted herself atop it, legs swinging sweetly. He wanted to get on his knees, wanted to slide his hand up her slim calves and—

“No. So you may as well just tell me,” he said, flashing her what he hoped was a charming grin.

“Your mother is like my mother if she was warm,” Elain managed, eyes latching on a painting across the room.

“Your mother is unkind?”

“No, not unkind, just…” Elain bit her bottom lip again. “Spring is a lot like a vipers nest, and you have to think like one if you want to survive. My mother is queen of the vipers, I suppose. She wasn’t cruel, but…we all had our parts to play, clearly.”

“Why did you go first?” Lucien asked, giving voice to the question that had plagued him since she’d first been sent to him. “Why not your older sister?”

Elain sighed. “The High Lord delays the match. He’s angling for Feyre, but the humiliation of spurning Nesta would ruin all of us. I think mother wanted to see me gone just in case he decided to spit in the face of tradition.”

“Tamlin loves tradition,” Lucien said softly. “If he promised to marry Nesta, he will.”

Elain nodded, though it was clear she didn’t agree. Whatever was going on over there, Elain certainly knew it better. Still, it was nice to have some context to the marriage. Elain had agreed, even though she didn’t want to, to ensure her sister's futures, too. There was something strangely lovely about it.

Or maybe it was just the insight that Lucien appreciated. He didn’t understand Elain at all, especially knowing her father likely would have intervened if she’d begged. Sometimes, Lucien imagined that Elain had come simply to torment him, even if deep down he knew that wasn’t true.

She’d come because she loved her family. That made it a little harder to dislike her. Would Lucien have done the same for his brothers? He genuinely couldn’t say, though he suspected he wouldn’t have. Not that it mattered—males weren’t held to the same standards as females. If Lucien had ruined his engagement, Elain would have been tainted in the process but he would have come out unscathed.

“If you want, I can talk to mother,” Lucien offered, wanting to do something for Elain that wasn’t half apology. He felt earnest—hopeful, even. “Soften the blow.”

Elain offered him a half smile that made her even more beautiful than usual. Lucien was terrified of the day she gave him a full smile, wholly directed at him. Would he survive it? Lucien wasn’t sure he’d survive any of this because Elain was his mate, and he had the terrible feeling that if he got to know her, he’d like her.

It was a constant war between not wanting her at all and wanting her so badly it made his teeth ache. It was going to be like this for his entire life. Lucien understood why so many gave in to the bond. A not small part of him wanted to. Wanted to throw himself at her feet and demand to know why she hadn’t told him if she felt it, too. And another part wanted…well. Wanted to know if she’d like her if he didn’t have that thread tugging in his chest. His heart pounded out a steady, consistent beat: mine, mine, mine.

“I can do it,” she said, rising from her chair while stretching out her neck. “I don’t want her to think I don’t respect her.”

“She wouldn’t think that,” Lucien assured her, though he appreciated Elain was willing to have a personally uncomfortable conversation.

“All the same,” Elain said blithely, eyes still dancing even when her mouth had flattened into a neutral expression. She was so fucking pretty.

“Well. Tell me the colors so I don’t embarrass you,” he said, hoping, once again, he was coming off as charming and not demanding. Elain glanced over her shoulder, a curl ghosting over her cheek.

“Whatever you say.”

She turned for the bedroom, leaving Lucien to trail helplessly behind her.

ELAIN:

If everything went according to plan, Tanwen would ask Ayla to dance. They’d look at each other. Maybe even speak, assuming Tanwen could move both his feet and lips at the same time. Maybe they’d kiss, if the night went well, and Tanwen would realize he was madly in love with Ayla and Elain could spend the rest of her time arranging their marriage to take her mind off her own.

The Lady of Autumn had gone all out—the ballroom was packed with people from a myriad of courts, including her own. She’d seen Nesta floating around in a gown made of spun silver—a match for the blue of her sharp eyes. If Nesta was there, Feyre was, too, likely exploring some hidden area of the palace she shouldn’t be in. Elain had seen a few Day Court courtiers flock to Arina, their eyes lined with kohl, dressed in bright, breezy linens that seemed strangely out of place around Arina.

Elain had taken Lucien’s advice, told his mother she didn’t like the rose color that had been chosen and ended up in a blood red gown that she never would have chosen for herself, once upon a time. When Amera presented it to Elain, setting the silk gown gently on the bed, Elain’s heart had thrummed.

Feyre would have worn it. Nesta, too. Her sisters were bolder, less afraid of making a statement. She wanted to be the kind of female who wore things like that, though. It was modest enough, with the off-shoulder sleeves that revealed freckled skin and delicate collarbones without even a hint of cleavage. The bodice was tight, the sides embroidered in gold flowers that made it seem as if her waist was pulled in smaller, creating the illusion of real curves.

She’d pulled her hair off her face with the pearl combs Lucien had given her as a show of good faith given how nice he’d been over the last few days. Not friendly, exactly, but nicer than he’d been since they’d met. He was looking at her when he spoke to her, which felt like a major improvement.

She hadn’t seen him yet, though the night was still early—plenty of time for Lucien to embarrass her yet.

Floating through the throngs of people, the smell of sticky pastries and wine in the air, Elain tried to find Ayla. Her friend had sworn she’d be there, as had Tanwen after a lot of cajoling and pleading.

Who will dance with me? she’d asked, making her eyes big and round. Tanwen, unused to being manipulated by a female, had folded almost immediately though he’d grumbled that he didn’t dance. Not with her, perhaps—but someone else? Elain didn’t believe he was above courting entirely given the rumors she’d heard floating around.

The Vanserra’s had a reputation and if Elain had to guess, she’d bet she was one of the few people left that had no idea what it was like to be underneath one.

“There you are,” Lucien’s warm voice murmured as his fingers brushed the tops of her shoulder. Elain turned and immediately wished she hadn’t. Lucien had asked what color she was wearing and Elain had said red and yet somehow, he’d managed to coordinate his jacket to the exact shade of her dress.

Fuck him, she thought privately as she took in the well-tailored fabric fitted to his broad, muscular chest. His boots gleamed beneath the faelights, cut up to his knees before giving way to black pants that showed off powerful thighs. He wore a gold band around his ring finger and he’d half braided his hair off his face much like Elain had done with the combs. He looked…he looked good.

Beautiful, even, in a roguish kind of way.

“Were you looking for me?” Elain asked, noting that Lucien was looking at her much like she’d just done. His eyes darkened, scent sharpening and oh. This wasn’t a good time for him to realize he was sexually attracted to her.

Lucien cleared his throat, eyes returning to her face. “It’s our celebration, I figured we ought to be seen together. Happy,” he added with a frown.

Elain couldn’t help her laugh. The whole thing was absurd. “Well, you’re truly selling it.”

Lucien blinked. “Are you going to tell me what this is in service of, now?”

“You don’t believe I’m so incandescently happy?” Elain teased, gaze snagging on the High Lord. She hadn’t expected Beron Vanserra to come, but there he was, arm linked with his wife and brown eyes bright as he listened to her speak. Elain was terrified of Beron and his shows of temper, his violence, and the bruises Elain often caught on Amera’s body when her sleeves slid up her wrists.

And yet here, he was the picture of adoration. Was it possible to love someone you hated? Elain turned, catching her husband also watching with a disdainful expression on his face. He didn’t bother hiding it, and Beron didn’t notice. Elain had heard Beron was preoccupied with Eris and Cadmus, but paid little attention to Connall and Tanwen and practically none at all to Lucien. To Elain, that seemed like a best case scenario, but maybe Lucien resented his fathers disinterest.

Or maybe he resented the way Beron terrorized his family.

She’d never asked, determined not to make it her business.

Lucien rolled his eyes, returning to their conversation as his fingers skimmed down her spine. He’d been touching her more often—absent gestures she wasn’t certain he was even aware he did. Every time his skin met hers, Elain’s whole body ignited with interest, which prompted her to try, desperately, to avoid his touch. What would Lucien do if he ever caught a whiff of her changing scent?

Elain knew she was on borrowed time, that eventually there would be questions about what they did when they were alone. The expectation of children would begin to arise and Elain would have to bow to the pressure and at least try. It had taken her own parents nearly five decades to conceive Nesta and Elain expected it would take her just as long, even if she and Lucien put themselves on a strict schedule.

What was worse was the thought that she might enjoy it. The vision persisted, lingering in her mind as it taunted.

You could be happy if you made different choices.

Lucien's fingers stilled at the small of her back, as though he realized how far he’d drifted and knew he was in danger.

“Tell me the truth,” Lucien murmured, leading the two of them through the throngs of people dancing to soft music played by musicians seated in elegant chairs. Cool air blew in from the open windows and some brave souls donned cloaks before sneaking out toward the garden for a moment alone.

Elain would bet that's where Feyre was.

“We deserve a little celebration, Lucien,” she said, turning abruptly for the garden just to see what her sister was doing. The last thing she needed was for Eris to find Feyre poking through something and start an international incident like that one time Feyre had been permitted to join their father in Winter.

“Elain—”

“Why does it bother you?” she asked without malice, letting him trail after her as they made their way into the dark. A pillar half hid a couple furiously kissing, the smell of salt and desire half choking Elain. Lucien coughed, for all the good it did—the pair broke apart to look at them before deciding they didn’t care if they had an audience. Elain scurried toward the grounds when the male dropped to his knees, head ducking beneath a skirt. Behind her, Lucien muttered something she couldn’t quite make out, though it sounded disapproving.

“What if I wanted to help whatever scheme you’re currently working through?” he responded, jogging up beside her. “Did that occur to you?”

Elain’s steps slowed. It hadn’t. “I’m trying to set up your brother.”

Lucien’s brow furrowed. “Which one?”

“Tanwen.”

He laughed, which annoyed her. “What?”

“Tanwen? Elain, if you want to set him up, you need to hide her in the woods for him to find.”

“He said he’d dance,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest as she faced off with Lucien. The grass was damp, the wet bleeding through the soft fabric of her shoes. Unlike Lucien who had layers beneath his jacket, Elain merely had the thin fabric of her gown. Lucien looked warm, and some part of her wanted to close the distance between them and fold herself against his body.

“Did you use your feminine wiles on him? Poor Tanwen,” Lucien teased, poking her in the stomach.

Elain scented something strange just as she was about to retort—sea salt and citrus, wholly out of place in the Autumn wood. Lucien, too, caught the scent of it, his eyes flicking up over Elain’s head as one hand came out to half pull her against his body. She’d been right—Lucien was warm.

A moment later, Feyre Archeron appeared looking dazed and pale. Elain’s sister had merely stepped out of a rip in the world, trailing star-flecked shadows behind her as she went. There was no one with her—just Feyre, who could apparently winnow. Elain had never known that.

“Are you okay?” Elain asked when Feyre passed. Her sister started, eyes bright like the moon.

“Of course,” she said, her tone strangely breathless. “I was…lost.”

“Lost.” Lucien repeated, his tone rich with disbelief. “Where were you going?”

“I…out,” Feyre finally said, practically floating away from them. Both Elain and Lucien watched and she suspected if she’d turned to look at him, they’d be wearing matching expressions of confusion.

“That…was strange,” Lucien finally said, releasing Elain from his grip. She took a step away on instinct, desperate for a breath of air not tainted by the soft, masculine scent of him. “Is she always like that?”

Elain wanted to assure him that Feyre wasn’t, but… “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. It was pretty par for the course for Feyre to slip off and keep secrets about her magic. If Feyre could winnow and hadn’t told anyone, it was for a reason. Elain certainly wasn’t going to divulge that information.

“Come on,” Lucien murmured, and she swore when she looked at him, a faint glow emanating off the edges of his skin. She blinked and it was gone, fading to a memory she couldn’t quite recall. Had she seen it? Or had she merely imagined it?

“You’re shivering,” Lucien added when Elain didn’t move, reaching for her once again. He couldn’t keep touching her—he was wearing down her resolve. One of these days Lucien might put his hands on her and she’d thank him for it.

Something in her wanted to make him work harder, even if it was inevitable. She wanted to like him, at least, before he took her clothes off her. And more than that, Elain wanted Lucien to like her, too. She was certain he didn’t—not really. What she found gazing back at her when she looked at him was merely acceptance. He’d made his peace with this marriage, something he should have done the moment he found himself standing at the priestesses altar, and was ready to get on with things.

Elain followed Lucien back into the bright, dizzying warmth, eyes scanning the room for both her sisters and Tanwen. She found Ayla, dressed in rich burgundy chatting with a male whose name escaped her. She saw Connall leaned against a pillar holding court while a semi-circle of females laughed at something undoubtedly stupid he’d said.

Cadmus and Eris patrolled the edges of the room, talking among themselves even as Eris’s eyes continued to slide to his mate, giggling with some of the females that routinely came to Ayla’s card games.

But no Tanwen. Lucien must have realized it, too, because his fingers brushed the back of her hand. “Told you.” It was the wrong thing to say to her right then. His touch, combined with her own confusing mix of emotions, caused a rush of anger to flood through her. Elain’s attraction to him, the closeness of his body, the way she swore she saw him looking at her at times—all of it was too much.

“That was uncalled for,” she hissed, grateful when he didn’t follow behind her. Elain didn’t turn to look at him, either.

She knew he was watching.

She could feel it.

LUCIEN:

“You’re an asshole,” Lucien began, snatching the weapon from his brothers hand before Tanwen could take a swing. Tanwen turned, brows raised.

“For what?”

“You told Elain you’d dance with her,” Lucien reminded him, almost telling his brother the truth of the matter. Lucien very much doubted Elain would be forgiving if she learned he’d messed up her little plan—even if Lucien thought it was ridiculous.

Tanwen blew out a breath. “I don’t dance.”

“It was one dance.”

“You dance with her,” Tanwen retorted, reaching for the axe but Lucien held it just out of reach. They were matched for height and likely matched in strength, though Lucien knew from experience that if Tanwen wanted to hurt him, it would be relatively easy for him to do so. In his youth, he’d tried to take on all his brothers to disastrous results. Besides, if he limped back into the house with a bruised eye and busted lip, Elain would know that he’d been meddling to help her.

It might make her like him a little better…and Lucien didn’t want her to know he was trying as hard as he was. He couldn’t explain it—call it petulance, call it his own inner angst, but Lucien wanted Elain to simply wake up one day desperate and needy from the bond and court him a little, too.

“You made a promise,” Lucien pressed, tossing the axe to the damp, leafy ground beside his brother.

“I fucking hate that shit,” Tanwen snapped, running a hand over his messy hair. “The people, the noise, I—” he took a breath. “I tried, alright? But someone tried to talk to me and I couldn’t do it. If you want me to make it up to your wife, though—”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Lucien warned, temper flaring. Lucien was coming to the realization that he likely couldn’t spend another month sleeping in the same bed as his mate without touching her. He toyed with the idea of creating some kind of bargain between them in which he was allowed to have her in the evenings and she could do whatever she liked with the rest of her time. But Lucien’s treacherous mind betrayed him, conjuring images of her taking a lover and he became restless and angry all over again. In his mind, Lucien was allowed to have her however he wanted her, but ultimately bore no responsibility toward her as he figured out his own feelings.

To make matters worse, every time he pictured Elain, his guilty thoughts bled Jesminda into the image until Lucien was frustrated with himself—Jesminda had told him to move on. Move on. It was taking too long, the heartbreak making a fool out of him. How did people get over it? Did they ever?

Or maybe you’re scared you’ll move on and be fine, a traitor's voice whispered in his mind. Maybe you’re afraid you’d be happy if you let yourself.

“Shut up,” he mumbled under his breath.

Tawnen glanced at Lucien, rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry if I upset Elain,” Tanwen conceded, though he didn’t look too shamed. “I’ll make it up to her.” Lucien doubted it, though, given his wife was very much trying to set Tanwen up. He trusted she’d find some new little scheme to put them back in the same room. Begrudgingly, he had to admit the thought of Elain trying to set Tanwen up amused him, if only because Tanwen was the most oblivious of the bunch. If he had his way, he’d abandon court entirely for some cottage in the woods and live entirely off the land. Tanwen would have thrived as governor of the rural counties of Autumn, though that post belonged to Connall, technically.

Beron sent Tanwen to their biggest port city and forced him to oversee the people there, knowing Tanwen hated the politics just as he knew counting crops bored Connall to tears. It wasn’t about learning anything, either. He simply liked making his sons suffer for his amusement. Lucien wasn’t allowed any leadership positions—Beron said he didn’t have enough cities, though Lucien knew that Beron simply didn’t like him and did not want to nurture any potential High Lord qualities in Lucien that might unseat Eris or Cadmus.

Lucien left Tanwen to his weapons, meandering even when he knew where he was going. He wanted the pretense of stumbling upon her, of seeing her with her hair tied off her face with a pink bandana, hands buried in soil. Lucien found her dressed in a rich purple, hem pooled around her knees as she plunged a little trowel into the earth.

She wore his gloves. Lucien’s heart raced at the sight of them, once tossed carelessly in a drawer along with everything else. She’d worn his combs the night before, his gloves today…Lucien took a breath. Elain was softening. Maybe he could bend a little, too. Pushing open the gate, Lucien made his way toward her.

“Planting?” he asked, noting the bed of weeds had been cleared out of the space. It must have taken her hours to do it.

Elain glanced up, a bead of sweat sliding down her brow. He wanted to taste it. “Your brothers helped clear this place out,” she said sweetly, rising up to sit on her heels. “It’s made things go faster.”

“What are you planting?”

“Here? Aster,” she said, showing him the little trays of budding plants she’d clearly been growing herself. “I’ve mapped it all out. Would you like to see?”

“Yes,” he breathed, coming close enough their knees brushed when he lowered himself to the ground. Elain pulled out a little journal and a rolled up piece of paper that she spread out for him.

Lucien recognized Cadmus’ work, sketched out beside Elain’s looping, pretty handwriting.

“Your brother painted it for me,” Elain admitted, running her fingers over the pretty watercolors that graced the page. I showed him my layout and he put it together.

“We should frame this when you’re finished,” Lucien murmured, thinking it really was lovely.

Elain’s eyes were bright. “Really?”

He didn’t like that creeping hope in her voice—her belief that he wasn’t a kind male, and didn’t care about her at all. It wasn’t true, though Lucien knew he’d done very little to disabuse her of the notion.

“Of course,” he replied, trying to keep his voice light and nonchalant. “You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

Elain tucked a curl behind her ear. “It’s just a garden, it’s not as if—”

“It’s important,” Lucien interrupted, tone gentle but firm. “Beautiful, too.”

Elain’s cheeks flushed, eyes slipping back to the ground. “That’s…thank you, Lucien.”

“Can I help?” he asked, deciding to push his luck. What did it hurt, he reasoned, to try and get to know his wife? His mate?

Biting her bottom lip, Elain nodded. “That would be nice.”

“I saw Tanwen this morning,” Lucien said, adopting a lighter, more gossipy tone. Elain’s eyes lit up.

“Did you tell him he ruined my night?” Elain demanded with a grin. “Winston occupied nearly all of Ayla’s time.”

“Winston,” Lucien grumbled, though in truth he had no issue with the lord. Winston was perfectly polite, in a bland kind of way. He was the kind of male Ayla could boss around and dominate, which wasn’t the worst position to be in given how Autumn viewed females. It was the closest thing to autonomy Ayla could hope for.

“Right?” Elain agreed, taking one of the little plants from him to nestle it gently in the dirt. “He’s so…”

“Agreed,” Lucien replied, heart thudding in his throat. “Could I offer you some advice?”

“Please,” she replied, eyes darting to him again. The urge to push her into the dirt and cover her mouth with his own reared through him with an intensity so hot that Lucien could feel his cock stir in his pants.

Calm yourself, he ordered.

“Consider an activity that Tanwen is interested in.”

“Like what?”

“What is the game you, Arina, and Ayla are always organizing on the lawn?”

“It’s a bit like tag, but less rough,” Elain admitted, cheeks flushing again.

“So why not a larger game?” Lucien suggested, mind racing with possibilities. “Or, perhaps something more akin to hide and seek. That could be romantic.”

Elain’s brows raised. “You’re quite clever.”

He grinned. “I’ll take the compliment.”

“How would we ensure we get them alone?”

“Easy enough. You and I will hide somewhere together—somewhere only I know,” Lucien added, his heart picking up again. He knew the exact tree he’d put her in, ancient and hollowed out by a High Lords son long since dead. Lucien had spent years hiding there as a child, reading and writing and otherwise daydreaming about more interesting adventures. With Elain, the space would feel smaller…perhaps he’d take the opportunity to truly touch her. Run his knuckles over her cheek, his nose along the curve of her neck.

“And Arina?”

Lucien snorted. “Eris won’t be able to help himself.”

Elain wrinkled her nose, scrunching the little freckles adorably. “Ew.”

“And Tanwen considers himself an expert tracker. Finding Ayla will be easiest, because she won’t be masked by another male's scent. And maybe, once they’re alone…”

Elain clapped her hands in front of her chest, giving him an excuse to look at the soft swell of her breasts. Elain was far too appealing, mate or not, and Lucien had the sinking suspicion he’d want her even without the cord currently wrapped around his throat.

Squashing his guilt, Lucien took a breath.

Unaware of his inner torment, Elain offered him a smile. “Okay. I like this plan—give me a few days to put it together so it seems natural and not too suspicious.”

“Naturally.”

“And you’ll join?”

“Nothing would amuse me more than to see Tanwen fall prey to the very court scheming he loathes.”

“You make it sound so sinister. I merely want him to find happiness,” she said, unaware that Ayla was the kind of female Tanwen had made a habit of ignoring. He could see her with Cadmus, perhaps, if Cadmus ever deigned to smile or have a moment of fun. Connall was too busy fucking his way through Prythian to ever consider a wife and truthfully, was likely to make someone very unhappy given how little he thought of commitment.

“And you think Ayla is his happiness?” Lucien questioned.

Elain only shrugged. “Maybe. It doesn’t hurt to try, does it?”

Lucien began digging out Elain’s next chalk mark as she carefully replanted, not willing to look at her. “I suppose not,” he murmured, feeling as if she were speaking to him as well. You’re not trying at all, he swore her voice accused which wasn’t true. He’d given her gifts, hadn’t he? He was sitting outside despite the biting chill, hands without gloves, dirt gathering beneath his nails.

Lucien wondered if she couldn’t sense his hesitation, his indecision. What did she feel? He was desperate to know. Experimentally, he pulled on the bond just to see what she’d do. Elain’s brow furrowed, hand flying to her chest to rub.

“Are you well?” he asked. Tell me you feel what I feel.

“I may have strained myself,” she admitted, hand falling to her lap. “Or perhaps I’m coming down with something.”

Lucien bit back his sigh. She felt it, but didn’t realize what was happening. Perhaps that was a blessing, then. He wondered if the snapping had felt different for her, or had been masked by her other emotions, lost to the swirl of fear and anxiety. How did he tell her without upsetting her? Could he?

“You should take it easier,” he murmured, unsure how she’d even go about doing that. “Rest more.”

Elain bit her bottom lips, gaze far away. “I feel like all I do is rest. I garden, I go about with my friends, I eat, I sleep. Hardly exerting.” Interesting. “What would you like to be doing, then?”

She considered this, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Travel?”

Lucien’s whole body tightened. Was that it? His disbelief must have shown on his face because she quickly added, “I heard the continent had tulip fields as big as a sea.”

“I’ve never seen them,” he admitted, mind racing, “I’d like to, though.”

“Maybe we could go?” she suggested.

Lucien resisted the urge to crush her against him. “Whatever you like.”

It was a start.

#elucien #im a day late and i fear this is terribly uninteresting #a filler episode before we get to the touching

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