#🎵 in other words 🎵 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

studioeisa · 2 months ago

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keeping score ⚽ mingyu x reader.

hating mingyu is easy. seeing him in any other light takes work, and you’re tired of trying to figure that out.

⚽ uni soccer player!mingyu x reader. ⚽ word count: 20.4k ⚽ genre: alternate universe: non-idol, alternate universe: university. romance, light angst. offshoot of @xinganhao's soccer team!hhu verse. ⚽ includes: mentions of food, alcohol consumption. cussing/swearing. frenemies to ???, looots of bickering, slowburn, pining!! yearning!! tension, idiots in love, feelings realization/denial. reader is a fashion major, mingyu is a goalkeeper. hhu ensemble (mingyu’s soccer teammates). other idols make a cameo. ⚽ footnotes: this entire piece of work— all 20k words of it— is dedicated to @maplegyu. this couple is our magnum opus, and i owe so much of this vision to her; i can only hope i’ve done them justice. my favorite gyuldaengie! iyong iyo ‘to. ily. <3 🎵 the official keeping score s01 playlist.

▸ S01E01: THE ONE WITH THE MONTHLY FAMILY LUNCH.

The bane of your existence arrives like clockwork every month, complete with a three-course meal, polite conversation, and the insufferable presence of Kim fucking Mingyu.

You love the Kims. Really, you do.

His mother is an absolute angel, his father tells the best stories, and his sister is one of the few people in this world you can actually stand. But Mingyu?

Mingyu is a menace. A thorn in your side. A perpetual migraine dressed in a soccer jersey and an overinflated ego.

And yet, because your families are close, you’ve had the misfortune of growing up with him. There has never been a time in your life when he wasn’t there wreaking havoc, getting on your nerves, making these monthly lunches a test of patience and endurance.

You barely step through the Kims’ front door before he spots you, and the smirk that spreads across his face already has you bracing for impact.

“You spend all your money on clothes, don’t you?” Mingyu drawls, gaze sweeping over your carefully chosen outfit. This month’s best attempt at dressing to impress. “Do you ever buy anything useful, or is it just fabric and brand names at this point?”

You flash him a saccharine smile, one wide enough to make your cheeks hurt. “I would ask if you ever spend money on anything besides soccer cleats, but then I remembered—” You snap your fingers. “You don’t. Trust fund baby, right? Still trying to deserve that, Kim?”

He clutches his chest dramatically, as if wounded. “Low blow.”

You step past him, muttering, “Not low enough.”

The act drops at the dining table, of course. Because despite the mutual irritation that fuels your every interaction, you both have the social awareness to play nice in front of your parents.

Mingyu is seated next to you, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to roll your eyes when he oh-so-helpfully pulls a serving dish closer. To himself, obviously.

“Let me guess,” you say, resting your chin on your hand. “You’re carb-loading for a game?”

Mingyu, mid-scoop of mashed potatoes, doesn’t even blink. “Nah, just loading up so I don’t wither away listening to you talk about… what was it last time? The ‘psychological complexity of lipstick shades’?”

His mother lets out a dramatic sigh, though there’s no real dismay behind it. “Mingyu, be nice.”

“I am nice,” he says easily, flashing his mother an innocent smile before turning back to you, tone all too sweet. “And personally, I think you’re more of a soft pink girl than a red one.”

It’s a direct dig at your choice of makeup for the day. You know he’s just speaking out of his ass; he doesn’t know the first thing about shades, and red is definitely your color. You take a slow sip of your drink before matching his tone. “That’s funny. I was just about to say you’re more of a benchwarmer than a starter.”

His father chuckles, far too used to this by now. “Oh, come on,” he chuckles. “You two have known each other since you were in diapers. When will you stop with the little jabs?”

“Maybe they’ll finally get along,” your mother says amusedly, “now that they’re graduating.”

You and Mingyu exchange a look, one perfectly in sync despite how much you loathe the idea of ever being on the same wavelength.

Nose scrunch. Head shake.

Not in this lifetime.

There was a time— brief, fleeting, and foolish— when you thought you might actually be friends with Mingyu.

You must’ve been, what, eight? Nine? Young enough to still believe that people could change overnight, that rivalries were just a phase, that some friendships took time to bloom.

Back then, it was silly competitions: Who could swing higher at the playground, who could run faster in the backyard, who could stack the tallest tower of Lego before the other knocked it over. It was childish, harmless, even fun at times— until you saw his real colors.

And now, over a decade later, nothing has changed.

He still finds new and inventive ways to drive you up the wall.

Case in point: Your families’ traditional group photo.

You don’t know why you still expect him to behave. You should’ve known better.

Just as the camera shutter is about to go off, you feel something tickle the back of your neck. You tense immediately, but it’s too late. Mingyu, standing behind you, has flicked the ribbon of your dress like an annoying schoolboy pulling on a pigtail.

You whirl around, shooting him a sharp glare.

“Don’t,” you warn through gritted teeth.

He gives you a wide, infuriatingly innocent grin. “Don’t what?”

You turn back, forcing a pleasant smile for the next shot. And yet— there it is again. A slight tug, barely noticeable, but just enough to let you know he’s doing it on purpose.

The camera clicks.

This time, you whip around so fast he actually takes half a step back.

“I swear to God, Kim Mingyu—”

“Kids,” your mother calls, barely looking up from her phone. “Let it go.”

“We’re not kids,” you shoot back.

Mingyu nudges your side with his elbow, leaning down ever so slightly to murmur, “You’re right. We’re adults now. Which means you can use your words instead of glaring at me like you’re trying to set me on fire with your mind.”

You retaliate by elbowing him in the ribs. He squeaks and begins to whine to his mother.

There is no universe in which you and Mingyu will ever get along. No amount of family lunches, no shared childhood history, no forced photo ops can change that.

And you’re perfectly fine with that.

▸ S01E02: THE ONE WITH SOCCER PRACTICE.

Mingyu is having a good practice session— until Seungcheol ruins it.

“Yo, loverboy,” the team captain calls out, grinning as he jogs up beside him. “You’ve got an audience today.”

Mingyu frowns, breath still heavy from his last sprint across the field. “Huh?”

Seungcheol subtly tilts his head towards the stands.

And there you are— looking as out of place as a flamingo in a snowstorm.

You’re sitting as far from the field as possible, like being too close might infect you with ‘sports’. Your arms are crossed, your pink-clad form nearly swallowed by the ridiculous sun hat and oversized sunglasses shielding you from the very concept of nature. A frilly umbrella is propped up beside you, even though there isn’t a single drop of rain in sight.

The sheer disgruntlement on your face is almost impressive.

Mingyu groans. “Oh, come on.”

“Who’s that?” Vernon asks casually, appearing beside Mingyu and Seungcheol like a curious puppy. He’s the newest, youngest guy on the team, so he can’t be blamed for knowing the semi-constant fixture in Mingyu’s life.

Wonwoo, stretching nearby, lets out a knowing hum. “That,” he responds, “is Mingyu’s one true love.”

Vernon blinks. “Oh.”

Seungcheol laughs, slinging an arm around Mingyu’s shoulders in a way that always ticked the latter off. “The love of his life. His childhood sweetheart. The Juliet to his Romeo,” the older boy sing-songs.

Mingyu scowls. “Shut up.”

Vernon looks at you again. The way your expression barely changes as you sip from an offensively fuschia thermos makes him squint in confusion.

“She doesn’t seem too happy to be here,” the youngest notes, and Mingyu holds back the urge to snort.

You’re fidgeting now, glaring at a single blade of grass that’s found its way onto your lap, as if deeply offended by its existence. He’s half-tempted to dump an entire barrel of dried leaves on you, just to see you screech.

For now, though, Mingyu settles with shoving Seungcheol’s arm off him. “You guys are so annoying,” Mingyu grumbles.

Wonwoo pushes his glasses further up his face. “We’re just stating facts.”

“They’re not facts,” Mingyu snaps. “And she’s not here because of me. Trust me, if she had any choice, she’d be anywhere but here.”

Vernon looks between Mingyu and you again, then back at Mingyu. “…So?”

“So, what?”

The younger player shrugs. “Why is she here?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “She’s waiting for me.”

Seungcheol lets out a dramatic gasp. “Oh? Waiting for you? Just how deeply are you entangled with this woman, Kim Mingyu?”

It’s a story that Seungcheol and Wonwoo already know. Mingyu knows they’re just being difficult for the hell of it, trying to goad him into reacting. He focuses on indulging Vernon, knowing the longer he avoids it, the longer he’ll be picked on.

“I owe her family,” Mingyu says through his teeth. “It’s not some stupid love story— her parents basically helped raise me when mine were busy working. You think I want to drive her places? I don’t. But my mom guilt-trips me into it every time.”

Seungcheol and Wonwoo share an unimpressed look.

“Uh-huh,” Wonwoo says. “Poor you. Forced to chauffeur a beautiful girl around in your nice car. Sounds awful.”

Mingyu fights the urge to sulk. “It is. She’s unbearable.”

“She seems pretty quiet,” Vernon grunts as he adjusts his cleats.

“That’s because she’s sulking.” Mingyu isn’t sure why, but once the explanation starts, it just keeps going. “Normally, she never shuts up—always going on about useless crap, complaining about things normal people don’t even think about. Like, oh no, her new nail set doesn’t match the vibe of her outfit, or God forbid a restaurant uses the wrong kind of parmesan.”

He realizes he’s said too much when he notices Wonwoo fighting back a smirk, and Seungcheol biting the inside of his cheek. The latter pushes it further with a drawl of, “So, what I’m hearing is… you listen to her. A lot.”

Mingyu groans, rubbing his temples. He really had to learn how to keep his mouth shut. “No, I suffer through her,” he insists. “There’s a difference.”

Wonwoo folds his arms. “You know, it’s funny. You talk all this smack, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard her rant about you.”

“That’s just because she’s stuck-up. Always has been,” scoffs Mingyu.

His mind flashes back to childhood— when he was seven and you were six, and you turned your nose up at his scraped knees, saying, Only boys who don’t know how to run properly get hurt like that.

When he was ten and you were nine, and you refused to eat a slice of pizza at his birthday party because you only liked the fancy kind with real mozzarella, not whatever that was.

When he was fifteen and you were fourteen, and he caught you scoffing at his old sneakers, telling your mom some people just have no concept of ‘aesthetics.’

And yet, despite everything, your families had always forced you together.

Mingyu was never given the option to just avoid you. Your parents and his were practically inseparable, and since childhood, he’s had to deal with your high standards and exasperated sighs and perpetual disapproval over whatever nonsense you deemed worth being mad about that day.

“I promise you, she’s the worst,” Mingyu mutters, stretching his arms behind his head.

Vernon, still watching you, tilts his head. “So, what does she think of you?”

That one’s easy.

“She hates me,” Mingyu says simply. Like it’s a fact. The sun is warm, the sky is blue, and you hate Kim Mingyu.

Seungcheol grins, his smile a little too sharp and knowing for Mingyu’s liking. “Oh, well. At least that’s mutual, right?”

Mingyu doesn’t answer, but he does glance back at you just in time to see you struggling to shove your umbrella back into its case. You catch his eye and stick your tongue out at him, the act so childish that Mingyu can only roll his eyes and flip you off.

The feeling was most definitely mutual.

The practice goes as usual— drills, passing exercises, a scrimmage where Mingyu manages to nutmeg Wonwoo (which earns him a half-hearted shove after the play). By the time they’re finishing up with cool-down stretches, the sun is dipping low in the sky, casting the field in warm golds and oranges.

Mingyu runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair and chugs the last of his water bottle before chucking it at Seungcheol’s back. “Captain,” he calls mockingly, “we done?”

Seungcheol catches the bottle before it can hit him. “Yeah, yeah. Go, be free.”

Mingyu doesn’t need to be told twice. He grabs his bag from the bench and jogs off the field, presumably heading toward you, who is still seated cross-armed, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the entire practice.

The three boys watch the interaction from a distance. Mingyu says something; you scowl. He nudges your knee with his foot; you swat at him.

Wonwoo rolls his shoulders. “You think today’s the day?”

Seungcheol lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Not yet. Give it another few months.”

Vernon furrows his brows. “What?”

“The bet,” Wonwoo says simply.

Vernon blinks. “What bet?”

“We’ve had a running bet for years about how long it’ll take those two to get together,” supplies Seungcheol.

Vernon looks between them, then at you and Mingyu again. The two of you now seem to be engaged in some sort of bickering match. Mingyu pulls at the edge of your pink cardigan, and you swat his hand away with increasing irritation.

How long it’ll take the two of you to get together?

“You guys are insane,” Vernon says flatly.

Wonwoo snorts. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I mean, look at them.” Vernon gestures vaguely in your direction. At this point, you’re looking like you’re five seconds away from pouncing Mingyu. “They hate each other.”

Seungcheol and Wonwoo do it again. That shared look, that quiet understanding.

“Look again,” the team captain urges, and Vernon does.

He watches as Mingyu steps back, laughingly avoiding your physical assault. You— despite your obvious frustration— fight a smile before rolling your eyes.

There’s something there. Some spark of familiarity, of knowing each other too well, of a connection that might just be a little too deep for pure hatred.

Huh.

A beat. And then Vernon digs through his pocket and procures a couple of loose bills.

“Before the year ends,” he declares, making Seungcheol and Wonwoo chuckle.

▸ S01E03: THE ONE WITH THE JANKY ELEVATOR.

You don’t know why you always end up here.

Actually, no. You do know why. Because your parents insist you wait at Mingyu’s place whenever they’re running late to pick you up, since apparently his apartment is safer than a café or a mall. Nevermind that the biggest threat to your wellbeing is standing right beside you, scrolling through his phone with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Was a functioning lift too much to ask for when you were looking for apartments?” you say, eyeing the rickety metal doors of his apartment building’s elevators.

Mingyu doesn’t even look up. “Oh, sorry, princess. Next time, I’ll make sure to move into a high-rise penthouse with gold-plated buttons just for you.”

You make a noise of disgust, jabbing at the button with unnecessary force. “As if I’d ever step foot in your place again after today.”

“You say that every time.”

You open your mouth for a comeback, but the elevator doors groan open just then. The lights flicker ominously. There’s a suspicious stain on the corner of the floor. You step in with a sigh, Mingyu following behind you.

The doors shut. The elevator lurches upwards with a wheeze.

“You know,” Mingyu says, “if you hate coming here so much, you could always just Uber home.”

“Oh, believe me, if I didn’t have to be here, I wouldn’t. But my mom insists you’re—” You pause, making air quotes, “—‘trustworthy.’”

He smiles like he’s some God-given gift. “I am trustworthy.”

“You once stole my fries in front of my face and claimed I was hallucinating.”

“Okay, but—”

Before he can finish, the elevator gives a violent jolt.

And then everything goes black.

For a moment, there’s silence. Just the quiet hum of the emergency light kicking in, the faint creak of metal settling.

Then, Mingyu takes a sharp inhale.

“Uh.” His voice is suddenly tight. “No. Nope. No way.”

You blink, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. “Oh, great,” you grumble. “Fantastic. This is what I get for stepping into this death trap of a building.”

“I think— I think I need to sit down,” Mingyu mutters, lowering himself to the floor.

You huff. “Be so for real right now, you lumbering idiot.”

But then you actually look at him.

The usual cocky tilt of his head is gone. His fingers are gripping the fabric of his joggers, his breathing coming in short, uneven bursts. His eyes are darting around the elevator, as if checking for an exit that isn’t there.

Oh.

He’s genuinely scared.

A new, unfamiliar kind of concern settles in your chest. “Wait,” you say, kneeling beside him. “You’re not actually—”

“I just—” Mingyu gulps. “I hate elevators. And small spaces. And, you know, the whole getting stuck thing.”

And then it clicks.

You remember being kids, when the power went out at the Kim’s summer house during a thunderstorm. You remember little Mingyu, barely taller than you, sitting stiffly on the couch with his knees pulled to his chest, trying— and failing— not to let his fear show. You remember the way his face twisted when the room was swallowed by darkness, how his mother had to light candles and sit beside him until the power returned.

He never admitted he was scared, of course. Mingyu never admitted anything.

But you knew.

Looking at him now— his face pale, his jaw tight— you realize some things don’t change.

Without thinking, you place a hand on his arm. “Hey. Breathe, okay? It’s fine.”

Mingyu exhales shakily. “I am breathing.”

“Yeah, like a terrified chihuahua,” you mutter. “Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

He gives you a look, squinting at you through the darkness, but he obeys. Inhale, exhale.

You squeeze his arm. “See? Not so bad.”

He closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing. You sit beside him, fingers still on his arm, grounding him. After a few beats, his breathing evens out. His shoulders relax.

“… Don’t tell anyone,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, I’m definitely telling the team.”

“I will murder you.”

An unbidden laugh escapes you. You nudge his knee with yours. “See? You’re fine.”

“Still hate this,” Mingyu exhales, rubbing his face.

“You are kind of pathetic.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He leans back against the wall. Then, like it pains him to say it, he adds, “Thanks, though.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t remove your hand from his arm.

With a sudden jolt, the elevator whirs back to life. The overhead lights flicker before settling into a steady glow, and the quiet hum of movement returns beneath your feet.

Mingyu exhales the biggest sigh of relief you’ve ever heard. “Oh, thank God.”

He’s on his feet before the doors have even fully opened, practically leaping into the hallway like he’s just escaped certain death. You follow him with a disbelieving huff.

It isn’t until you’re several paces into the hallway that you realize you’re still holding onto him.

Your fingers are curled around his forearm, right where they’d been when you were calming him down. Mingyu, ever the opportunist, notices right before you can subtly let go.

He tilts his head. “Aww, you care about me,” he coos, but there’s a hint of something in his tone. You think it might be genuine appreciation; you’re not about to dwell on it, though.

“Shut up,” you snipe. You want to shove him back in the elevator and see just how cocky he can be when it crashes out again.

“Admit it,” he sing-songs, trailing after you toward his apartment. “You were worried about me.”

“I was trapped in an elevator. I was worried about myself.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

You choose not to dignify him with a response, striding ahead until you reach his door. Mingyu unlocks it with a beep, stepping aside to let you in.

As soon as you enter, you do what you always do— make yourself at home. You toe off your shoes, toss your bag onto his couch, and march straight to his kitchen. The years of forced proximity have made this something as good as a routine.

“You got anything to eat?” you ask. The question is rhetorical; you’re already prepared to rob him of whatever he has in his pantry.

Mingyu scoffs as he kicks off his sneakers. “This is not a restaurant.”

“Clearly,” you huff, swinging open his fridge. The contents are bleak. A few eggs, a half-empty carton of orange juice, a suspiciously old container of takeout, and at least three protein shakes.

You make a face. “Be serious.”

He sprawls onto the couch. “What?”

“You live like a caveman.” You shut the fridge with an exasperated sigh, turning to scan the apartment. Your gaze lands on a new decorative shelf against the wall, filled with an assortment of mismatched trinkets. They’re all atrocious and generic.

You’re inclined to tease him that it’s why he’s bitchless, this sheer lack of consideration for aesthetics. You reel that in, though, opting instead for a lighter, “Since when did you care about home decor?”

Mingyu props his feet on the coffee table. “It’s called having taste,” he shoots back.

“You don’t have taste.”

“Excuse you—”

“This,” you gesture at the shelf, “is ugly.”

Mingyu grabs the nearest throw pillow and chucks it at you.

You barely dodge it. It whizzes past your head, and once again, you think this is exactly one of those things you should’ve expected from Mingyu. He’s immature, and obnoxious, and unbelievably rude.

“Did you just—” you’re gaping, but then another pillow flies your way.

You snatch it out of the air, and then you catch the way he’s already scrambling for another ‘weapon’. “You are such a child!” you screech, except you’re not above retaliation.

What follows is a semi-violent pillow war that neither of you are willing to concede. It’s ridiculous, and loud, and it feels exactly like every argument you’ve ever had with him. Full of unnecessary dramatics and zero real malice.

Just like that, the moment in the elevator— the quiet, vulnerable, human side of him you’d glimpsed— disappears into the back of your mind. A moment of weakness, never to happen again.

Because Kim Mingyu is still the same as he’s always been.

▸ S01E04: THE ONE WITH THE NIGHT OUT.

Mingyu swears he’s going to kill you.

He’s probably made that threat dozens of times in the past years, but tonight, he’s fairly sure he’ll actually do it.

He should be in bed right now, getting some much-needed shut-eye for tomorrow’s game. It’s the type of do-or-die match where scouts will be in the audience, after all, and while Mingyu doesn’t really give two damns about going pro, he wouldn’t mind the validation.

Alas, instead of being in his bed, he’s stuck in traffic en route to wherever the hell you’ve gone drinking tonight.

If it had just been you that asked to be picked up, Mingyu would’ve ended the call without question. Probably would have told you to get off his case and book a cab yourself.

But it’s your mother who’s asking, who has entrusted your safety and well-being in Mingyu’s allegedly capable hands. He’s not about to turn down the woman who practically helped raise him.

Disgruntled, Mingyu pulls into the parking lot of where you said you’d be drinking. Some swanky club with thumping music and neon lights.

“So help me, God,” Mingyu grumbles underneath his breath as he stomps out of his car and toward the establishment. When the bouncer charges him an entrance fee— an entrance fee!— Mingyu’s urge to cause you bodily harm only triples. He coughs up the fee and marches into the club, fully prepared to give you grief for this little stunt.

The club is alive, full of sweaty bodies pressing against each other and questionable house remixes that everyone is pretending to like. It’s an assault on the senses, and Mingyu absolutely loathes it.

He wasn’t about to act holier-than-thou. He’s had his fair share of drinking escapades, had even been to this very club himself once or twice. Still, it’s different when you’re ready for a night out and when you’ve been forced out of your restful evening because of a person you can barely even consider a friend.

It takes him all of three minutes to find you.

Take away the history, the tension, and fine. Mingyu would willingly admit: You’re gorgeous. Sometimes. When you tried.

It’s more than the sinfully short dress, more than the ankle-length boots that no one else would pull off. It’s that laugh of yours, so bright and open and loud as you let one of your friends twirl you around on the dance floor. The sound reaches Mingyu over the din of debauchery, and he feels a muscle in his jaw tick.

He hates it. He hates you.

He wants to be home, back in his bed, instead of standing five paces away from a stunning you. A you that he will have to drag down because of responsibility, because of his blasted pride. Whether or not he cares to admit it, he hates that, too.

Mingyu weaves through the crowds of dancing people until he’s reached you. He’s just about to call your name when the DJ plays a song that you seem to like, because you let out a loud squeal and try to jump.

Key word: Try. You’re just a little off-balance from your choice of shoewear and the alcohol running through your veins, because your attempt has you stumbling.

Instinctively, Mingyu reaches out to catch you. His palms land on your waist as your back falls against his chest, and it nearly kills him— the sound of your drunken giggle. You tilt your head back to look up at him.

It starts off as a half-lidded, hazy expression, one that shows off just how intoxicated you already are. But there’s something different there, too. A heat. A hunger. One that shows you’re out for something, someone tonight. Mingyu hates that the most.

He hates how that look on your face disappears when you realize who caught you. Immediately, your unchaste expression gives way to something more akin to sulky discontent, like Mingyu is the bearer of bad news.

And he is, really, because his fingers squeeze at your waist as he glares down at you.

“It’s past midnight, Cinderella,” he says, pitching his voice just loud enough above the music. “Time to head home.”

Your reaction to him is always a good litmus test of how intoxicated you are. When you jut out your lower lip and whine out a petulant “Mingyu!”, that gives him the idea that you’re pretty damn gone.

“You’re no fun,” you whine, trying to wriggle free from his grip. “This is my favorite song—”

“And it’s one in the fucking morning. Let’s go.”

Somehow, you manage to peel away from him. One of your friends links arms with you, the two of you bursting into laughter of giggles. Mingyu is tempted to leave you then and there. There’s nothing funny about this situation, and he’s already planning to tell you off for how this might affect how he plays tomorrow.

“One more song!” You put up one finger, practically shoving it up to Mingyu’s face. “Pleaseee?”

He’s only halfway through saying something like no, let’s go before your friend is dragging you further into the throng of dancing people. Mingyu can already feel a headache blossoming beneath his temple.

Resigned to his fate, he steps to the fringes of the crowd. He isn’t in the mood to scream to All I Do Is Win with all of these strangers; the least he can do is keep an eye on you.

You, scream-singing the lyrics. You, whose dress rides up with every little sway. You— laughing, dancing, still several paces away from Mingyu.

He crosses his arms over his chest and briefly closes his eyes, exhaling through his nose. A voice snaps him out of his reverie.

“Hey, handsome. Want a drink?”

Mingyu’s eyes flutter open. He hadn’t noticed the girl sidling up to his side. She’s a bombshell, sure, with a lecherous gaze and a barely-there dress, but Mingyu trips up over the fact that the two of you kind of smile the same.

“No, thank you,” he says curtly. “I’m driving.”

The girl throws her head back and laughs. Mingyu’s headache feels like it’s worsening.

“You’re too good-looking to be the designated driver,” the stranger purrs. When she reaches out to run an innocent finger over Mingyu’s crossed arms, his lips tug into a slight frown. He’s no stranger to girls coming on to him. He’s entertained a couple, even, in settings exactly like this.

Tonight, he’s not in the mood. That’s it. That’s all there is to it, he thinks— as if he’s trying to convince himself.

That’s how he builds the courage to lie through his teeth.

“I’m here to drive my girlfriend home, actually.”

In the morning, he will justify it like this: He wanted the stranger to leave him alone. He wasn’t exactly lying. You were a girl, and you were… kind of his friend. And he was driving you home. That much was true.

In that very moment, though, his heart— the treacherous fool that it is— skips a single, infinitesimal beat at the prospect of calling you his ‘girlfriend’.

The stranger is undeterred. It’s a common throw-off, after all. The lie about having a significant other.

“Where’s this girlfriend of yours?” she asks, one eyebrow cocked upward in amusement.

Mingyu’s eyes flick over the throng of dancers. Right. He had been watching for you. He opens his mouth, about to mention some notable feature of yours, when the words stick in his throat. Because he’s looking right at you—

You, with your arms over the shoulders of some guy. You, tilting your face upward to kiss said stranger.

The strobe lights cut Mingyu’s vision into strips. He sees each moment like a flashbulb blinking on and off: Your eyes fluttering close. The stranger’s hand slipping to the small of your back, right over the curve of your ass. Your body, arching upward a little bit more.

Mingyu, still paces away.

By the time you’re pulling away from the man, Mingyu is already at your side. He’s still ever so gentle as he yanks you away from the stranger’s grasp.

“We’re going,” he announces.

The guy you had just been kissing lets out some strangled sound, something to the effect of “what the hell, man,” but Mingyu can’t be bothered to stick around and clarify. He focuses on hauling your ass away, even as you begin to kick up a fuss.

“But he said I was pretty—” you’re whining, the tone of your voice grating on every single one of Mingyu’s nerves.

“Because you are pretty!” he snaps as he guides you through the crowd. “Don’t go around making out with anyone who compliments you. Jesus!”

Somehow, the two of you manage to spill out of the club. Mingyu has a white-knuckled grip on your shoulders as he attempts to push you forward, towards his car.

You only add to his mounting annoyance when you dig the heels of your boots into the ground, keeping him from going any further.

“For fuck’s sake—” Mingyu grumbles. “I swear to God, I will leave you. I’m going to leave you to your own devices in this parking lot, you leech.”

“You wouldn’t,” you say shrilly. “You would never leave me!”

“I would,” he shoots back. He contemplates just throwing you over his shoulder and being done with it.

That train of thought is swiftly interrupted by you spinning around to face him. You plant your hands on your hips, speaking surprisingly evenly for someone who looks drunk out of their mind. “I was having fun,” you sniffle.

“And I was supposed to be asleep four hours ago,” he seethes. “Instead, I’m dealing with your bratty ass—”

“I didn’t ask you to—”

“Your mother asked me to—”

“Well, she can go and—”

“Please!”

Mingyu huffs out the word with his whole chest. Honestly, at this point? He’s not above begging. He runs his hands over his face before wringing them together.

“Can we just go home already?” he pleads. “I have to be up by six, and the student manager will have my neck if I’m late one more time. Please, please, please just get in my car already.”

You only stare him down with that steely expression of yours. Once again, Mingyu toys with the idea of manhandling you into his backseat, until you speak up.

“He said I was pretty,” you repeat, like that’s somehow the most important fact of the night.

“You are,” he responds exasperatedly.

“You’re lying,” you insist. It might be a trick of the light, a fleeting moment in the darkness of the otherwise empty parking lot, but Mingyu swears he sees a flicker of insecurity in your eyes.

You go on, “You’re just saying that. Unlike the guy back there, you don’t actually think—”

“Oh my God. Fine. Fine. I don’t think you’re pretty!” Mingyu throws his hands up in the air in a gesture of defeat.

You look like you’re about to deflate, but then he barrels on, going absolutely insane over this whole stupid affair. “I think you’re breathtaking. I think you’re the most gorgeous girl in the world,” he bites out. “But, holy shit, are you the most annoying one, too!”

If you’re surprised, there’s no indication of it in your expression. But your hands do drop from your sides, and you’re looking at Mingyu with a little less disdain than a couple of seconds ago.

A beat. And then—

“You think I’m breathtaking?” you ask, the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

To hell with it. Mingyu surges forward and wraps his arms around your waist, hauling you off the ground.

You’re squealing and raining punches down his back the entire way to his car.

▸ S01E05: THE ONE WITH THE MORNING AFTER.

You wake up to the distinct smell of something warm and buttery wafting through the air, the scent tugging you out of your heavy slumber.

Your head is pounding, and your throat feels like you swallowed a gallon of sandpaper, but worst of all, there’s a familiar sense of displacement— the kind that comes with waking up somewhere that isn’t your own bed.

Cracking one eye open, you’re met with the soft glow of morning light filtering through unfamiliar curtains. It takes you a second, but then you recognize the room instantly: Mingyu’s apartment.

The realization doesn’t startle you as much as it should. In fact, you sigh, rolling onto your back and rubbing at your temple. It isn’t the first time you’ve found yourself here after a night out, though it’s usually because of some family event that went on too long rather than Mingyu being forced to drag your inebriated ass home.

Still, the headache and vague memories of last night are enough to sour your mood. You groan, sitting up and taking in your surroundings. Your shoes are neatly placed by the door. A bottle of water and a pack of painkillers sit on the nightstand, which you’re quick to grab.

And then, there’s the smell. The one that pulled you out of sleep in the first place.

You shuffle out of bed and into the kitchen, where you find an actual, plated breakfast waiting for you on the counter. A plate of eggs, toast, and— because you assume Mingyu is still an insufferable health nut— a side of fruit. Stuck to the rim of the plate, a bright yellow Post-it with the worst handwriting known to mankind.

Stop drinking. -KMG

You find yourself staring at the plate longer than necessary. No matter how crude the note is, the fact remains: Mingyu cooked this. For you. Before his game.

There’s an uncomfortable flutter in your chest that you quickly stomp out.

Because sure, Mingyu cooked for you. Sure, he bought you medicine. But he also had the gall to leave you a rude Post-it note like the patronizing asshole that he is. You grab the note and crumple it in your fist before popping one of the painkillers in your mouth. You mutter “fuckin’ bitch” to no one in particular, but it lacks real venom.

Your thoughts are interrupted by your phone ringing. You frown before spotting Mingyu’s charger plugged into the wall, your phone attached to it. You don’t have time to unpack whatever that means, because your mother’s name flashes across the screen.

With a sigh, you answer. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” she asks, voice sharp with concern. “I tried calling last night, but your phone was off.”

“I was…” You hesitate, glancing at the breakfast on the counter. “With Mingyu.”

There’s no need for your mother to know where you really were dancing, who you’d spent the night flirting with. Hell, all of that is pretty much a blur at this point. The only thing left in your alcohol-addled mind is Mingyu calling you Cinderella, Mingyu’s hands on your shoulders, and… Did he carry you to his car? You’ll have to wheedle that information out of him later.

Your mother’s reaction to your white lie is immediate. Her sigh of relief is so loud you have to pull the phone away from your ear. “Oh. That’s good,” she breathes. “At least I know you were in good hands.” The food in front of you suddenly looks much less appealing. Of course. Of course that’s all it takes for her to drop her interrogation. You could have told her you spent the night at any of your friends’ places, and she still would have had a million questions. But mention Mingyu, and suddenly she’s appeased.

“Yeah,” you say flatly. “Great hands.”

You don’t like it. You don’t like feeling indebted to him. You don’t like that he has that effect— not just on your mother, but on you, too.

As much as you want to brush it off, you can’t help but glance at the plate again, at the neatly arranged breakfast that he didn’t have to make, at the medicine he didn’t have to buy.

And that flutter? That stupid, tiny, treacherous flutter in your chest?

You shove it deep down where it belongs.

Meanwhile, Mingyu fights his own battles. On the field, he’s a wall. A force of nature.

His muscles burn. His mind is sharp. Every time the ball nears his goal, he’s already two steps ahead. The opposing team is relentless, throwing every tactic they can at him, but it doesn’t matter. Not today.

Today, Mingyu is untouchable.

The scouts on the sidelines are nodding, murmuring to each other with increasing interest. His teammates are exhilarated, feeding off his energy. Seungcheol is the first to voice it, panting as he jogs past the goal. “You’re playing like a fucking monster.”

Mingyu doesn’t answer, just adjusts his gloves and keeps his gaze locked on the field. Wonwoo watches him a beat longer, brow furrowed. “You’re not usually this aggressive.”

Mingyu exhales sharply. “Gotta keep the scouts entertained, don’t I?”

It’s a good enough excuse. No one questions him after that.

But the truth is, he knows exactly why he’s playing like this.

Because across the field is him— the guy from last night. The guy who got to kiss you, to touch you while Mingyu watched.

And the jerk looks perfectly fine. Well-rested, even. Ready to play.

Mingyu’s jaw tightens.

When the next shot comes, he doesn’t just block it. He slaps it out of the air with enough force to send it soaring toward midfield. The sound of his palm meeting the ball echoes across the stadium. The forward who took the shot looks stunned; the murmurs from the scouts grow louder.

Seungcheol lets out a low whistle. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I like it.”

Mingyu exhales, flexing his fingers inside his gloves. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, but he’s locked in, focused. He doesn’t care how many more shots they take. None of them are getting past him today.

You’re not even here, but you might as well be by the way Mingyu thinks of you the entire damn time.

And if, after the final whistle blows and his team secures the win, he happens to walk past him with just a little too much shoulder in his stride? Well.

That’s just the cherry on top.

He feels proud. Vindicated. He revels in it for a full minute before— much like you— shoving the feeling as far away from him as possible.

Now it’s even. Now, he doesn’t owe you a thing.

▸ S01E06: THE ONE WITH THE PERFUME.

Mingyu isn’t sure how he ended up in the fragrance section.

The trip to the mall had a purpose— find a birthday gift for their student manager, someone patient enough to handle their chaos. Seungcheol was atrociously down bad for the girl, and was still trying to prove himself worthy of her time.

Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and Vernon debate between a sleek planner and a wireless charger.

“The planner will help her deal with us,” Wonwoo pushes, “we’re always bombarding her with our schedules, anyway.”

Vernon butts in. “Getting her a gift that benefits us is a shitty thing to do.”

The man of the hour— Seungcheol, who is balancing the two gifts in his hands— gives the world’s shittiest suggestion. “Let’s just get both!”

As the three try to argue the merits of the gifts, Mingyu wanders off. For some reason, he finds himself drawn by the gleam of glass bottles and the faint hum of different scents in the air.

He has no business being here. Cologne isn’t something he puts much thought into; he has his one bottle, the same one he’s used for years, and it does the job.

Still, his fingers ghost over the display, picking up a tester bottle without much thought. The label is understated. Minimalist design, black serif lettering against a frosted background. Expensive-looking. He presses down on the nozzle, sending a fine mist into the air.

The scent unfurls slowly. First, there’s a burst of something citrusy— bright, crisp, and fleeting. Then it settles into softer notes, something warm and clean, like white musk and fresh linen.

But underneath, lingering just at the edge, is something else. Something vaguely floral, but not overpowering. A hint of jasmine, maybe, softened by vanilla.

His grip tightens around the tester. He’s suffered through this scent before.

It clings to his couch cushions, stubborn even after airing out his apartment. It lingers in his car, filling the spaces between his words when you're in the passenger seat. It’s in his hoodie the morning after you crash at his place, making his head turn before he remembers you’re already gone.

Mingyu frowns, inhaling again, as if the scent will offer up an explanation for why it pulls at something deep in his memory.

Could it be your own perfume? Could your shampoo have the same notes?

He debates it for a second. Buying the bottle, testing if it really does smell the same. If it would fade the same way, settle the same way. If it would remind him of you just as much.

And then— what the hell is he doing?

Mingyu sets down the tester bottle, clicking the cap back on. He tries to chalk it up to curiosity. That has to be it. He’s a man of logic, someone who likes to confirm hypotheses like whether this inconspicuous bottle of perfume is the same as his arch rival’s.

That’s all there is to it, he thinks, as he stalks back over to his teammates. A verdict has been reached: Seungcheol will get her the planner. The charger will be halved three-way by Mingyu, Vernon, and Wonwoo.

“Where’d you go?” Wonwoo inquires.

“Nowhere,” Mingyu answers, even though his mind is still on the stupid smell.

He wipes at his wrist like that might help him get rid of the thought of you.

(In the other side of the mall—)

▸ S01E07: THE ONE WITH THE SHOPPING TRIP.

You love shopping.

Not just for the thrill of it or the satisfaction of walking out of a store with a new find, but because it’s part of your studies. As a business major with a minor in fashion design, you don’t just see clothes. You see craftsmanship, marketability, trends, and the little details that separate the exceptional from the ordinary.

Which is why you don’t take it lightly when a saleslady looks down on you.

It starts with the way she barely glances at you when you step into the boutique, her gaze flickering from your casual outfit to the more expensively dressed customers lingering by the racks. She doesn’t offer a greeting, doesn’t ask if you need help, just wrongly assumes that you’re not worth her time.

You brush it off at first. It’s not the first time someone has made a snap judgment about you, and it won’t be the last. But then, as you pull a dress from the rack, inspecting the stitching along the seams, you hear her scoff.

“That one’s a little out of budget, don’t you think?” she says, her voice coated in artificial sweetness.

You arch a brow, turning the dress over in your hands. It’s a designer piece, sure, but it’s not about the price. It’s about the construction, and this one? Overpriced for what it offers. You could name at least three brands that do a better job at a fraction of the cost.

Instead of rising to the bait, you hum thoughtfully. “The stitching here is uneven,” you muse, holding the fabric up to the light. “And the lining? They cut costs with synthetic blends when they should have used silk. The structure won’t hold up after a few wears.”

The saleslady falters, clearly unprepared for an actual critique. You don’t stop there.

“For the price, I’d expect better craftsmanship. If you’re going to charge this much, at least make sure the dress can justify it.”

A beat of silence. Then, another voice chimes in— a stranger, another customer, who suddenly looks interested in what you have to say. “That’s actually a good point,” she murmurs, inspecting her own dress more closely.

The saleslady’s expression tightens, and she suddenly looks less inclined to speak. You hide a smirk, setting the dress back on the rack.

You love shopping. But more than that, you love knowing exactly what you’re talking about.

The next store is quieter, more minimalist, with racks of clothing spaced out deliberately to give each piece a sense of importance. You skim through them idly until something catches your eye.

A shirt. Simple, well-tailored, the kind of thing that would sit well on broad shoulders.

Mingyu’s shoulders.

You wrinkle your nose at the thought. The idea of picking something out for him makes your stomach turn, and yet… you keep looking at it. It’s a nice color, something that would complement his skin tone. The fit would be flattering. It’s practical, stylish, something he could wear effortlessly.

You chalk it up to habit. It’s the same as when you find a cute piece that would suit a mannequin perfectly. Just another exercise in styling. Nothing more.

Besides, if you bought it, it wouldn’t be for him. It would be for the sake of aesthetics. Like dressing up a doll. Or— better yet— like charity.

Yes. That’s all it is. You like knowing what you’re talking about, and this is just a manifestation of it.

You grab the shirt, holding it up for a final once-over before tossing it into your basket. If anything, you can pass it off as a Christmas gift. That’s reasonable. Normal, even. No big deal.

But then you see a sweater that would pair well with it. And a jacket that’s undeniably his style. And before you know it, your basket is full.

It’s only when you’re standing in line to pay that it truly hits you.

What the hell are you doing?

Your grip tightens around the handle of the basket, heart hammering in your chest. You stare at the pile of clothes— clothes for Mingyu— and feel a wave of unease creep up your spine. This is not normal. This is not something you do.

You were supposed to get one thing. One. Now you’re standing here like some deranged personal shopper, about to spend money on a man you claim to tolerate at best.

No. Absolutely not.

You step out of the line, return to the racks, and unceremoniously dump the basket’s contents back where they belong. One by one, you rid yourself of every last piece until there’s nothing left.

Your heart is still racing by the time you exit the store. You need a spa day. Desperately.

▸ S01E08: THE ONE WITH THE GAME.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Mingyu stares from across the field, frozen in place as his teammates jog past him. The pregame warmups blur into the background because there you are, sitting in the stands. Willingly.

It shouldn’t be a big deal, shouldn’t mean anything, but it does. Because in all the years he’s known you, you’ve never voluntarily attended one of his games. Not without some level of coercion. Not without at least thirty minutes of complaining.

And yet, here you are.

Unfortunately, you also stick out like a sore thumb.

He sees you draped in obnoxiously bright colors, layered in mismatched school merch like someone who got dressed in the dark— or someone trying too hard to look like they belong. The cap, the oversized hoodie, the scarf, all of it is excessive.

The worst part? It works.

Because even from across the field, even as his teammates stretch and the crowd chatters, Mingyu sees you. And now he can’t unsee you.

He ignores the cheerleaders calling his name. Ignores the people waving at him, the fans holding up banners with his number. Ignores the way his coach is probably going to yell at him later for getting distracted before the game.

Instead, he heads straight for you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demands, stopping just short of the stands.

You lower your phone, where you’d clearly been snapping photos, and peer down at him like he’s the one acting weird. “Your mom asked me to take photos of you,” you reply, voice maddeningly nonchalant. “Don’t lose.”

Mingyu scoffs. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Then, a beat later, he petulantly adds, “Also, I never lose.”

You roll your eyes, already angling your phone for another shot, but Mingyu doesn’t move just yet. The fact remains; you’re here, looking infuriatingly good, and he’s going to spend the next 90 minutes fighting for his life. He can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing.

Either way, he knows one thing for sure: He really, really can’t afford to lose.

But he does.

It’s a hard-fought game, and Mingyu plays like a man possessed. He dives for impossible saves, yells orders at his defenders, and shuts down shot after shot. The crowd roars every time he denies the other team, and for most of the match, it looks like his team might just scrape by with a win.

Then, in the final minutes, everything falls apart.

A miscalculated pass. A stolen ball. A breakaway that happens too fast.

Mingyu sees it unfold in real-time, feels the moment slip through his fingers before it even happens. He charges forward, determined to cut off the angle, to make himself big, to stop the shot. But the ball soars past him, hitting the back of the net with a deafening thud.

The stadium erupts. The other team celebrates. And Mingyu, chest heaving, fists clenched, can only stare as the scoreboard confirms it.

A one-point lead. Game over.

He barely hears the whistle. Barely registers his teammates patting his back, muttering things like You did great and We’ll get them next time. None of it matters. Because he lost. Because he let that shot in.

Because somewhere in the stands, you saw him fail.

He drags his gloves off, jaw tight, shoulders tense. He doesn’t want to look up. Doesn’t want to see if you’re still watching.

Against his better judgment, his gaze lifts toward the stands anyway.

There you are, camera in hand, expression unreadable. Of all his losses that day, that was the one that inexplicably ticked him off the most. The fact that you weren’t smiling, weren’t frowning. You were just… watching. He’s never been able to read your mind, but he despises that inability the most today.

Mingyu exhales sharply, looks away, and storms off the field.

He doesn’t expect you to wait for him outside the locker room. You’re there anyway when he steps out, your arms crossed and your lips pursed. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t acknowledge you beyond the look he shoots your way; you have to take large steps in your ridiculous heels just to keep up with his pace. He feels like a hurricane— one that’s about to sweep through your stoicism, about to leave significant collateral damage.

“Come on, then,” he mutters, shoving his duffel strap higher onto his shoulder. “Tell me just how shitty I am.”

“Excuse me?”

He lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You must be dying to rub it in my face. Go ahead. Get it over with.”

You frown. “What the hell is your problem?”

That sets him off.

“My problem?” he snaps, finally stopping in his tracks to glare at you properly. You follow suit, and it amuses him for a fraction of a second— just how easily he towers over you. “I just lost a game, in case you missed that part while taking your stupid pictures.”

You scoff, fully displeased now. “Are you serious? You think I came here just to laugh at you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” His voice is sharp, low. “You’ve never had a problem making fun of me before.”

Your jaw clenches.

“No need to make me your punching bag, Kim.” In turn— your tone is piercing, almost hurt. “I came here to comfort you. I’m not the fucking devil you make me out to be.”

The words hit harder than they should.

The weight of the loss still clings to him, frustration simmering beneath his skin. His hands are still balled into fists, his shoulders locked up so tight they ache. But the way you say it, the unexpected offense in your voice, makes something in him falter.

He rubs a hand over his face. The hurricane in him quiets, runs out of rain. “Yeah.” His voice is quieter now. “Sorry.”

You roll your eyes. Really, you have every right to give him more shit; he knows he deserves it. “I should just leave you here to wallow.” You make a grand show of turning away— really, you have every right to give him more shit; he knows he deserves it.

But then you glance at him over your shoulder. “Since I’m feeling benevolent, I’ll treat you to a meal.”

Mingyu stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You?” He gestures vaguely between the two of you. “Treating me? Are you dying?”

“Maybe,” you deadpan. “From secondhand embarrassment.”

He lets out a sharp exhale, something between a huff and a chuckle. “Wow. Real comforting.”

You shrug. “I never said I was good at comfort,” you snipe, and he knows that much is true.

Somehow, that’s how he finds himself behind the wheel of his car, hands gripping the steering wheel. He’s still mildly dazed as he glances over at you in his passenger seat. He doesn’t remember actually agreeing to this. He doesn’t remember deciding to take you to his favorite restaurant. And yet here you are, scrolling through your phone like this is the most normal thing in the world.

For the first five minutes, the drive is quiet. Mingyu fiddles with the AC, rolls his shoulders, frowns at the road ahead. But the longer you sit there, humming under your breath, mindlessly playing with the hem of your sleeve, the more it starts to sink in.

This is the first time the two of you have willingly shared a meal together.

Not because of mutual friends. Not because of a group project or an event neither of you could get out of. Not because your parents forced you into it.

Just… because.

It’s the strangest possible way for Mingyu to have possibly ended the night.

He spares you another glance as he pulls into the parking lot. “You better not complain about the food,” he warns, “or I’m leaving you here.”

Of course, that gives you the leeway to complain, bitching about things like sanitation and standards for cuisine. He tunes it out like he often does, instead trying to figure out how the hell he ended up here.

Here, sitting across from you in a restaurant that he usually only visits with his teammates. It felt like a fever dream to approach the host stand and ask for a table for two; his voice had come out a little too uncertain, like he couldn’t quite believe the words himself.

The host had seated you without question, handing you both menus before disappearing, leaving Mingyu to sit there and take in the absurdity of the situation. You, sitting across from him, elbows on the table, flipping through the menu like this is any other meal with any other person.

His mind flickers, unbidden, to a thought: Are you like this on all dates?

Then, he scowls. No. This is not a date.

“Alright, what am I getting?” you ask, still scanning the menu. “You’re the one who dragged me here, might as well give me a solid recommendation.”

Mingyu raises a brow. “I dragged you here? You were the one who insisted on treating me.”

“Tomato, tomahto.” You shoot him a sharp glare, as if his insolence was something that caused offense. “Just tell me what’s good.”

He studies you for a second like he’s waiting for the punchline. When you just blink back expectantly, he sighs, resigning himself to whatever surreal alternate reality this is. “Get the beef stew,” he finally says. “And the garlic rice. You’ll thank me later.”

To his surprise, you actually listen. He half-expected you to ignore him just to be difficult.

The conversation that follows is easy in a way that confuses him. You bicker, naturally, but it’s mostly over trivial things— your tragic lack of appreciation for his taste in sports documentaries, the way he insists that pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity. Nothing about the game, nothing about his loss, nothing about the way frustration still lingers in the tightness of his jaw.

Instead, you seem content commenting on the restaurant itself, mentioning how you like the warm lighting, how the playlist is surprisingly good. And then there’s the way you eat. Without rush, without any of the absentmindedness he sometimes sees when you’re multitasking with your phone. You actually appreciate the food, nodding approvingly after each bite like you’re mentally scoring it.

Somewhere between your satisfied hums and the way you swipe an extra spoonful of his rice when you think he’s not looking, Mingyu realizes something strange: You’re actually enjoying this.

And, maybe, so is he.

It’s disorienting, how quickly the irritation from earlier has faded.

He tries to remind himself of the reasons you’re infuriating. That you’re picky about things that don’t matter, that you have a bad habit of being late, that you roll your eyes too much, that—

But every thought is immediately met with another. That you actually care about things enough to be picky. That you only run late when you’ve lost track of time doing something you love. That you roll your eyes, sure, but you also laugh, also banter, also make things more interesting.

Mingyu stares at you for a moment, something warm settling into his chest.

By the end of the dinner, he’s forgotten why he was so upset in the first place.

▸ S01E09: THE ONE WITH THE HIGH SCHOOL REUNION.

The party is already in full swing by the time you and Mingyu arrive.

It’s the usual reunion scene— too many people packed into a house slightly too small for the occasion, music loud enough to drown out the conversations but not enough to stop them altogether, and a lingering smell of something fried mixed with overpriced cologne.

You’re still annoyed. Annoyed because Mingyu had, with all the grace of a wrecking ball, insulted your outfit on the drive here. Something about how your skirt was too short and your heels were impractical for a house party. As if he was some kind of fashion authority.

“Thanks for the unsolicited advice, asswipe,” you had snapped back, crossing your arms and staring out the window. He only scoffed in response, muttering something about not wanting to be responsible if you tripped and broke your ankle.

Now, hours later, you’re still disgruntled about it. You refuse to think about how, deep down, it had been less about disapproval and more about the way his gaze had lingered.

That would be a problem for another time. Maybe never.

You make your way to the kitchen, eyeing the assortment of drinks lined up on the counter. A bottle of something expensive-looking catches your attention. You grab it, twisting the cap with determination, but it refuses to budge. You try again, gripping it tighter, but all you manage is an embarrassing squeak of effort.

“Seriously?” you mutter under your breath, frustration bubbling up.

Before you can attempt another futile try, a large hand appears in your periphery. The bottle is plucked effortlessly from your grip. In one swift motion, Mingyu twists the cap open like it was nothing. No struggle, no hesitation, no unnecessary flexing. Just pure efficiency.

He doesn’t even smirk. Doesn’t gloat or tease you like you expect him to. He just hands the bottle back to you before turning away as if it had never happened.

You blink. Then blink again.

The room suddenly feels a little warmer. Must be the alcohol in the air. Or the heater. Or—

Oh, God.

With absolute horror, you realize Mingyu was kind of hot for that.

You take a generous swig from the bottle, hoping it burns away whatever ridiculous thought just took root in your brain. Unfortunately, the warmth spreading through you has absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol.

You take another sip, then another, letting the burn of the drink ground you. It’s fine. It’s whatever. You’ll drink and have fun and not think about the way Mingyu’s hand had so easily dwarfed yours when he took the bottle from you.

You wander back toward the living room, where clusters of people are chatting, laughing, reliving the glory days. Just as you settle into the buzz of the atmosphere, you catch Mingyu’s name being thrown around in a conversation nearby. You don’t mean to eavesdrop— okay, maybe you do a little— but something about the way his voice carries through the room makes you pause.

“Not drinking tonight?” You hear someone ask him.

“Nah,” Mingyu replies, nonchalant. “I’m her designated driver.”

Your stomach does a weird little flip.

Well, then.

If that’s the case, if Mingyu’s already consigned himself to the role of responsibility, then there’s absolutely no reason for you to hold back.

You tilt your head back, take another sip. Then another.

A warmth spreads through your limbs, but whether it’s from the alcohol or the fact that you now have free rein to drink without consequence, you’re not sure. You tell yourself it’s definitely the alcohol, though. Because the alternative— the thought that it has anything to do with Mingyu— just isn’t an option. Not tonight.

The alcohol has settled comfortably in your veins by the time the dancing starts. The living room has been cleared to make space, furniture pushed against the walls. Now the music pulses louder, the bass vibrating through the floor.

You’re laughing with old friends, moving with the rhythm, when you feel a sharp tug at the hem of your skirt.

You whirl around, already prepared to snap at whoever dared, only to come face-to-face with Mingyu. He’s standing there, a frown on his face. He leans in slightly, voice low but clear over the music. “I told you it was too short.”

You blink at him, thrown off by the way his fingers had just been on you, tugging fabric downward like it was some sort of personal mission. Something fizzes beneath your skin, something that has nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with the fact that Mingyu— annoying, overbearing Kim Mingyu— is looking at you like that.

It’d been such a boyfriend move. You force yourself not to dwell on it.

You don’t know what compels you, but maybe you’re just tipsy enough. Maybe you want to make him suffer.

You suddenly reach out, looping your arms around Mingyu’s neck. His whole body goes stiff, his eyes widening in immediate suspicion.

“Dance with me,” you say, tilting your head, voice syrupy with tipsiness and mischief.

Mingyu shakes his head, already taking a step back. “Absolutely not.”

You grin and pull him right back in. “You sure? ‘Cause I know things, Kim. Lots of things.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” he squeaks.

You sway closer, pretending to consider it. “It’s more of a… strategic incentive.”

A battle wars in his eyes. But then, with a low ‘tch’ and a mutter of “You’re insufferable,” Mingyu lets your grip pull him in.

The moment is bizarre.

His hands find their place— one cautiously at your waist, the other hovering near your shoulder like he’s afraid to touch too much. You move to the beat, feeling the heat of him through his shirt, the solid press of his frame against yours.

It’s ridiculous. It’s stupid.

It’s also the best decision you’ve made all night.

The song shifts into something heavier, the bass thrumming through your chest, the kind of music meant for bad decisions and blurred memories. Mingyu hasn’t bolted yet, which is a miracle in itself. He’s actually keeping up with you, moving in sync, matching your rhythm with ease. It’s unexpected, the way he doesn’t seem like he hates this, like he’s maybe— God forbid— having fun.

You scoff at the thought, but the amusement lingers. The insults come easy, natural, tossed between the two of you like a ball neither wants to drop.

“You dance like an old man,” you tease, voice warm with liquor.

“And you dance like you’re trying to summon a demon,” he shoots back.

You laugh, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. Maybe it’s the dim lighting or maybe it’s the alcohol, but Mingyu’s gaze doesn’t seem as sharp as it usually does. His grip on your waist is firm but not forceful, like he’s not entirely opposed to being here, to this, to you.

It’s too easy to forget that this is Mingyu, that this is the same guy who has made a sport out of getting under your skin. Because right now, he’s just a tall, ridiculously handsome man who happens to be an unfairly good dancer.

The thought sneaks up on you before you can fight it. If he wasn’t Mingyu...

The words slip out before you register them. “I wonder what I’d do if you weren’t you.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows raise. “What?” His voice is a little rough around the edges, and far too sober.

Shit.

You blink rapidly, force a laugh, and shake your head as if you can brush it off. “Nothing. Ignore me.”

But the thing is— you can’t ignore it.

Because somewhere, in the back of your mind, you’re already picturing it. A world where Mingyu isn’t Mingyu, where he’s just some stranger with sharp eyes and broad shoulders who smells good and dances well, who looks at you like he’s actually seeing you.

A world where you wouldn’t have to fight every instinct telling you to lean in.

Eventually, your feet start to protest. You’re wearing heels that were never meant for this much standing, much less dancing. You haven’t even said anything about it, but your expression must be reflecting your discomfort and your frustration. Mingyu sighs like you’ve personally ruined his night before crouching down and unlacing his sneakers.

“What are you doing?” you ask laughingly as he kicks them off, right there on the fringes of the dance floor.

“Giving you my shoes,” he says, like it’s obvious, shoving them toward you. “I’m not carrying you to the car.”

You snort. “You’d probably drop me anyway.”

“Exactly.” He watches as you swap out your heels for his much-too-big sneakers, which make you feel ridiculous but are, admittedly, a godsend.

You don’t realize until you’re halfway to the car that Mingyu is walking in only his socks, completely unbothered. You slide into the passenger seat, tipsy and warm and just self-aware enough to realize something terrible is happening.

You are warming up to Mingyu.

It hits you like a truck.

Mingyu, your mortal enemy. Mingyu, who has annoyed you since childhood. Mingyu, who insults your outfits and steals your food and opens your drinks without a second thought.

Your head lolls against the seat as you stare at him in horror, combing through the memories, trying to pinpoint exactly when this started going wrong.

By the time he pulls up in front of your house, you’ve made a decision.

You need to stop being too nice to him.

▸ S01E10: THE ONE WITH THE TEAM LUNCH.

Mingyu is halfway through his second helping of rice when he hears it— the unmistakable sound of his personal hell approaching.

He doesn’t even have to look up to know it’s you. The dramatic click of your heels, the way the conversation at the cafeteria table shifts just slightly, the exasperated sigh that escapes Wonwoo before you even arrive.

And then, as expected—

“Kim.”

Mingyu exhales sharply through his nose. He doesn’t know what you want, but if the past few weeks have been anything to go by, it’s nothing good. Ever since the high school reunion, you’ve been nothing short of a menace.

He still doesn’t know what changed that night, but suddenly, you’ve taken it upon yourself to be the most irksome person in his life. There was the time you texted him an obnoxious amount of links to ugly sneakers after he’d lent you his at the party. The time you “accidentally” swapped his shampoo for some floral-scented one that lingered in his hair for days. The time you sent him a video of him losing his last match, edited with clown music in the background.

He finally looks up from his food, expression already set in a scowl. You’re standing at the edge of their table, arms crossed, a shit-eating grin plastered on your face. Seungcheol, Vernon, and Wonwoo all look between the two of you like they’re watching a horror movie unfold in real-time.

“What do you want?” Mingyu asks, voice flat.

You feign offense, placing a hand over your chest. “Can’t I just stop by to say hello?”

“No.”

Vernon snorts, covering his mouth with his hand. Seungcheol nudges him under the table, but he’s grinning, too.

“You wound me, Kim.” You pull out the chair beside him and sit down like you belong there. “But fine, I do need something.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes, shoving another bite of food into his mouth before jerking his chin at you. “Then spit it out already.”

“I need a favor.”

Mingyu groans. “No. Absolutely not.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet!”

“I don’t need to know what it is.” He glares at you. “It’s a no.”

Wonwoo sighs, setting his chopsticks down. “Just let her talk, Mingyu. We’d like to finish our meal in peace.”

Mingyu gestures wildly. “I would like to finish my meal in peace!”

You pat his shoulder condescendingly. “This is more important than your third bowl of rice.”

He swats your hand away. “It’s my second bowl—”

“Not the point,” you cut in. “Listen, I just need—”

Mingyu groans again, slumping back in his chair, already regretting every choice that led to this moment. He knows, deep in his soul, that whatever you’re about to ask is going to be something ridiculous.

And yet, for some godforsaken reason, he doesn’t immediately tell you to leave.

“I need help moving some furniture.”

Mingyu blinks. “That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it,” you deadpan. “Are you going to help or not?”

He stares at you. It’s one of those things that’d be a given for anybody else. Mingyu was the type of friend who would drive someone to the airport, would help someone move, would cook if someone was sick. Those were things he’d do for someone he was friends with— something the two of you were decisively not.

“And why, exactly, would I do that?” he challenges.

“Because you owe me?”

He lets out a laugh. “I owe you?”

“Yes, for—” you flounder for a reason, “—for existing, Kim Mingyu. Do you know how exhausting that is?”

Unconvincing to a fault. Mingyu is half-tempted to call you out for being a spoiled brat, but he’s not interested in escalating this argument in front of his team.

“Not my problem,” he settles on saying.

“You’re the fucking worst.”

“And yet, here you are.”

The two of you go back and forth like that, the jabs mostly inoffensive and subjective. Mingyu is vaguely aware of Seungcheol pinching his nose like he’s nursing a headache, Vernon sipping his drink as if watching a spectacle, and Wonwoo calmly chewing his food, unfazed.

Finally, Seungcheol decides he’s had enough.

“Both of you,” he interjects, voice firm. “Can you stop fighting for five minutes?”

To Mingyu’s shock, you actually fall silent. You roll your eyes but begrudgingly listen, arms still tightly crossed.

Mingyu scoffs. “Oh, so you can listen to people,” he mutters. “Didn’t know you were capable of being nice.”

Your head snaps toward him. “I am capable of being nice. Just not to you.”

“Right, because you’re a little devil sent from hell just to ruin my life.”

“Your life was already in shambles before I showed up. Don’t blame me.”

The bickering immediately picks back up, much to the dismay of Mingyu’s teammates. Vernon exhales dramatically. “Mamma mia,” he sing-songs jokingly to Wonwoo, “here we go again.”

You suddenly reach out, snatch a piece of Mingyu’s pork right off his plate, and pop it into your mouth as you ready to leave. His jaw drops; he’s stolen your food a fair amount, but you’ve never done it to him. “Hey—”

You’re already turning on your heel and walking away, not sparing him another glance. “Thanks for absolutely nothing,” you chirp.

Mingyu watches, speechless at the petulant display.

“Did she—” he starts, then stops. His grip tightens around his chopsticks. None of his teammates push, all too wary of the dark look that passes over his expression. Seungcheol promptly tries to change the topic.

Mingyu finishes his meal in a foul mood, stabbing at his food with unnecessary force.

He doesn’t understand why you’ve gotten so absurd with him lately. Every interaction with you feels like a new test of patience, like one day you just woke up and decided to amp up all the ways you could make him miserable. He had almost started to believe, for one fleeting second, that maybe, maybe you weren’t that bad.

But no. The night at the reunion was just a fluke— when you’d danced together and he’d privately thought it was something he could get used to.

You were always meant to be his worst nightmare, and he resolves that he’s not waking up any time soon.

▸ S01E11: THE ONE WITH THE REASON.

The joint family meal is as lively as ever, voices overlapping in conversation, laughter ringing between bites of food. You, as always, have taken it upon yourself to make Mingyu’s life difficult today.

“Wow, even you managed to show up on time for once,” you remark as he slides into the seat across from you. “Did hell freeze over?”

Mingyu shoots you a deadpan look, clearly not in the mood for your antics. “Not today, Satan.”

You grin, but there’s something off about him. He doesn’t come back with anything more biting, doesn’t engage in the usual back-and-forth. His shoulders are tense, and there’s a blankness to his gaze that makes you wonder.

Your mother places a generous serving of food onto your plate, and you idly push some rice around with your chopsticks, gaze flickering toward him again. “What, got scolded for being too slow on the field?”

Mingyu finally looks at you properly. His frustration is clear. “Can you not today?” His voice is quieter than you expect, worn at the edges. “I had a shitty day at training, and I really don’t have the energy for you right now.”

The words catch you off guard. You could leave it at that, let him have his peace for once. A part of you— one you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge— almost wants to ask why, wants to pry into what’s bothering him and offer something resembling comfort.

Instead, you shove that impulse down. Whatever this is, whatever softening that night at the reunion did to you, needs to be stomped out immediately.

So you double down.

You spear a piece of your meat a little too forcefully. “Right, because I’m the problem here. You always find a way to suck at things all on your own.”

Mingyu’s expression shutters. For the first time ever— in all of your interactions with him— you feel something unpleasant coil in your stomach. He shakes his head and then goes back to eating without another word.

There’s a small, screeching voice in the back of your head that wants to demand an explanation. Not for Mingyu’s dismal mood, no, but for that flicker of disappointment that’d passed his face when he shook his head.

Why would he be disappointed over your cruelty? Why would he expect anything else from you?

The rest of the meal passes without his usual jabs in return, and you tell yourself that’s a victory. It feels like anything but.

As dessert is doled out, your mother calls out to the pair of you. “You two, go somewhere else for a while. The adults need to discuss business.”

You open your mouth to protest. You’re both adults already; surely you and Mingyu could sit in, rather than be forced into yet another awkward situation neither of you can run from.

But Mingyu is already pushing his chair back with a grumbled “fine.” The look your mother shoots you indicates that this is not about to be up for debate. You follow Mingyu out, both of you stepping into the cool evening air.

The restaurant’s outdoor area has an old playground— rusting swing sets, a chipped slide, and monkey bars that have seen better days. You walk ahead and hop onto a swing, the chains creaking slightly as you push off the ground.

Mingyu stands nearby, watching you for a moment. “Didn’t take you for the type to get sentimental,” he snorts, and that slight edge in his tone gives you just a bit of hope that he doesn’t completely despise you.

“I’m not. I just need somewhere to sit that’s far away from you,” you say matter-of-factly.

He huffs but doesn’t argue. Instead, he heads towards the monkey bars. He grips one, testing his weight against the metal. “Remember when you got stuck on these in second grade?” he asks as he free-hangs.

“I wasn’t stuck,” you sniffle in protest. “I was strategizing.”

Mingyu lets out a bark of laughter. “Strategizing how to fall on your ass?”

You drag the tip of your shoe against the dirt, narrowing your eyes. “If I recall correctly, you weren’t any help. You just laughed at me until my dad had to come pull me down.”

“Hey, in my defense, it was funny.” He swings himself onto the lowest bar, legs dangling. “You had snot running down your face and everything.”

You lunge half-heartedly to kick at his shin, but he pulls his leg away just in time. There’s a beat of silence, the air filled with the distant chatter of your families inside. It’s strange, this reminiscing. The usual bite to your exchanges is still there, but it’s smooth around the edges, tinged with something dangerously close to fondness.

Mingyu exhales, gaze fixed on some nondescript point in the distance. You think he’s gearing up for his next jab about something. Probably your embarrassing high school days, or that one summer vacation you hate talking about. Instead—

“Why aren’t we friends?” he asks. His voice is quiet, thoughtful.

You blink. The question is so absurd it momentarily stuns you. “What?”

“I mean,” he shifts, “we’ve known each other our whole lives. Shouldn’t we— I don’t know— be close?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was teasing. But the question doesn’t sound rhetorical, and he seems almost wistful.

You hate it.

You hate him.

Your chest tightens, unbidden memories surfacing. There were plenty of reasons. The bickering, the competition. But at the core of it, there was one moment. One day that cemented everything in place, whether Mingyu realized it or not.

You were seven. It was summer, the sun blazing high as the neighborhood kids gathered for a game of soccer. Everyone had been split into teams, and you had waited, jittery with anticipation, as Mingyu— the fastest, the strongest, the boy everyone wanted to follow— started picking players.

One by one, he called out names, grinning as kids ran to his side. You had stood there, heart pounding, willing him to say your name next. You were family friends! Sure, you were a girl, but surely Mingyu could see how fast and strong you were, too.

In the end, Mingyu had picked everyone but you. When there was no one left, you had been shuffled onto the other team by default. You still remembered the sting of it. The two of you were already acquainted, and yet he hadn’t even seen you as an option.

It was stupid. It was petty. And yet, that wound had never quite healed. Everything that came after was just a domino effect after that.

If you were a little meaner to Mingyu than you had to be, if you were much more curt and snappy with him than you were with anyone else? It all came back to that. That moment where Mingyu hadn’t seen you— worse.

He had pretended not to.

You swallow, dragging yourself back to the present. Mingyu is watching you expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Because you didn’t pick me,” you say at last, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “That one time.”

Mingyu’s brows knit together. “What?” he asks, and it feels like a punch in the gut.

The look of confusion on Mingyu’s face— you don’t know if it’s a curse or a blessing. He doesn’t remember. Of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

But you do. You remember, and you hold on to it for the lack of a better thing to hold on to.

Hating Mingyu is easy. Seeing him in any other light takes work, and you’re tired of trying to figure that out.

Mingyu opens his mouth. For a second, it looks like he might protest. His brows pull together, his lips part, and there’s something foreign in his expression— something that makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. But before he can say anything, you hear your mother beckoning for you from the restaurant.

You stand up and brush nonexistent dust off your clothes. “Well, that’s my cue,” you say airily, praying to any higher power at all that Mingyu won’t call out the way your voice shakes. Just a little bit.

Instead, he remains by the monkey bars, watching you with an impassive look on his face. You can feel the weight of his stare even as you turn away.

You hesitate for half a second before glancing back at him. “We’re probably better off this way,” you say, because you always have to have the last word.

His grip tightens around the swing’s chains, knuckles going white. There’s a pause.

Then, finally, he nods. A jerky, forced thing.

“Yeah,” he says, voice strangely even. “Probably.”

You don’t acknowledge the way the word sits heavy between you, don’t let yourself linger on the way it sounds more like reluctant acceptance than agreement. Instead, you pretend not to hear it at all, turning on your heel and walking back toward the restaurant.

Hating Mingyu is easy. It’s all you’re good for. As you leave him standing alone, you hope it feels a little bit like that day in your childhood— when you’d been the name he hadn’t called.

▸ S01E12: THE ONE WITH THE SMILE.

Mingyu doesn’t get it.

He’s been off his game for days.

It’s not an injury. It’s not exhaustion. He’s been training the same way, eating the same meals, sleeping the same hours. And yet his shots don’t land the same. His passes are sloppy. He misses easy blocks he could have made blindfolded.

It pisses him off.

The ball soars past him yet again, hitting the back of the net with a dull thud. Vernon cheers and Wonwoo does a victory lap. Mingyu just stands there, hands on his hips, jaw locked tight. His fingers twitch at his sides, itching to punch the goalpost out of sheer frustration.

Seungcheol, ever the captain, jogs over. “That’s enough,” he barks, voice edged with authority.

Mingyu bites the inside of his cheek. He knows what’s coming for him, and yet he still tries to protest. “One more round.”

“No. You’re done.” Seungcheol’s tone leaves no room for argument. “Go home. Figure out whatever’s got you playing like shit and come back when your head’s on straight.”

Mingyu has to bite back the retort that he’s not playing like shit, that he does have his head on straight. The numbers don’t lie. There’s no talking his way out of this one. With a sharp exhale, he yanks off his gloves and stalks off the field, muttering curses under his breath.

As he grabs his bag and heads toward the exit, he runs through every possible reason for his sudden slump.

Training? No. Diet? No. Stress? Maybe, but it’s never affected him like this before.

You?

You’ve been distant ever since that night at the playground. The constant quips, the snarky remarks, the way you always seemed to find a reason to pester him— it’s all dialed down to nearly nothing.

It should be a relief. He should be thriving with all this newfound peace and quiet.

Instead, he’s a goddamn mess.

Mingyu kicks a stray rock on the pavement as he walks to his car. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get you. And worse, he doesn’t get why it bothers him so damn much.

It’s entirely by accident, how he ends up spotting you. Maybe it’s some form of twisted divine intervention, some cruel twist of fate.

He’s at a red light, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, when he happens to glance to the side. And there you are, ripped right out of his scrambled brain, standing outside a café with a group of friends.

You’re wearing one of those preppy outfits he always mocks you for, all pristine pleats and crisp collars. It’s the kind of thing he’d usually say makes you look like you stepped straight out of some rich kid catalog. He tucks away the insult in his mind, filed for the next time you annoy him.

But then—

You’re laughing. Your head tilts back; your eyes crinkle at the corners. The street lights catch on the soft highlights in your hair, the gentle slope of your nose, the flush on your cheeks from whatever ridiculous joke was just told.

You look light. At ease. So effortlessly happy.

Mingyu watches, unseen, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

He’s seen you smirk, seen you grin in that infuriating, self-satisfied way when you get under his skin. He’s seen you scoff, roll your eyes, pout. But he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you smile like that in front of him.

And what’s worse—

Why does he want it?

He presses on the gas pedal once the light turns green. By the time he pulls into his parking lot, his mind is still spinning. He kills the engine but doesn’t move, just sits there, glaring at the wall in front of him.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. A stray hair tie, wedged between the seats. One of yours.

He stares at it, his brain stalling. The last time you sat in his passenger seat… when was that? His mind scrambles, trying to pinpoint the moment, but he comes up empty. The fact that he doesn’t know unsettles him more than it should.

Something else comes, too. A stupid, fleeting burst of happiness. An excuse to message you, to return it, to say something anything just to get you talking to him again.

The realization slams into him all at once.

His frustration. His inability to focus. The way your absence has been gnawing at him. The way your happiness without him made his chest ache.

Mingyu slumps forward in his seat, his forehead resting against his steering wheel.

Not even the screeching sound of his horn is able to drag him out of the horrific realization that he’s off his game because he likes you.

He likes you, the one person in the world he shouldn’t. The one person in the world he can’t have.

“Fuuuck,” he grouses, banging his head on the steering wheel so that the beeps come in sporadic bursts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He’s fucked.

▸ S01E13: THE ONE WITH THE PLANNING.

You don't know when it started— this weird, drawn-out awkwardness with Mingyu.

It’s not like you’ve stopped arguing. You're still giving him shit for his stupid hair, his dumb socks, his loud chewing habits. But lately, he’s... off. Slower to snap back. Not quite meeting your eyes.

Worst of all? He’s barely even tried to make fun of your outfit today.

It’s part of the Mingyu playbook. Some wisecrack about your clothes, some comment about how you should be running hell in Satan’s place. If he’s feeling particularly inventive, he even deigns to bring your course into it.

Today, though, it’s all painfully polite. Curt answers and absentminded nods. You know you’ve frozen him out since that night on the playground, but you didn’t expect to get the same chill in return.

“So what I’m hearing is,” you say, tapping something into your phone, “you’re fine with anywhere as long as there’s pasta. Are you five?”

Mingyu squints at you like he's struggling to come up with a comeback. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Shrugs.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Wow. Riveting. Have you always been this dull or did I finally break you?”

He laughs, but there's no real bite to it. “I’m just being agreeable,” he offers. Even the snark in that is half-hearted, hesitant. “You should try it some time.”

“Oh, don't get all mature on me now,” you scoff, scrolling through the list of local restaurants your parents emailed. “God forbid you grow a personality overnight and forget how to argue.”

Mingyu mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “still better than yours.” He seems distracted, for the lack of a better term. The two of you have the unfortunate task of deciding on the next joint family meal’s venue, and he’s been uncharacteristically civil throughout it all.

Somehow, it unnerves you more than when he’s being an insufferable asshole.

“Seriously, are you okay?” you press, a touch of concern making its way into your tone. “You're kinda giving... robot with a mild software glitch."

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” he grumbles. “Just tired."

“Tired or scared I’ll beat you in the battle of wits today?”

“Not scared. Letting you have the spotlight for once.”

“Touching. Very generous.” You know a lost battle when you see one, so you scroll down the list again before turning your phone so he can see it. “Okay, vote: Overpriced fusion place with truffle everything or rustic hipster café that serves lattes with art so complicated it should be in a museum?”

Mingyu squints. “The second one has better lighting.”

“... Lighting?”

He raises his shoulders in a shrug. “For your parents’ photos. You know how your mom gets.”

Something twists in your stomach.

The fact that Mingyu is considering your mother’s happiness, that he knows how she is and he’s not complaining— instead accommodating?

You feel almost grateful, almost admiring, but you shake it off with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Hipster café it is. Let’s go, then.”

“I’m literally only here because you begged me to come.”

“Yeah, but I begged louder. So I win.”

There it is— the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Not quite a comeback. But closer.

It doesn’t quite explain why his ears have turned pink, but that’s a can of worms you decide you’re not ready to open up just yet. Instead, the two of you go to scope the venue, lest your parents call you out for not fulfilling your duty-bound obligation to this godforsaken tradition.

The café is aggressively quaint. All pastel walls and potted plants and menus printed in cursive. A waitress greets you at the door with a bright smile and a clipboard in hand.

“Table for two?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says.

She glances between the two of you, then beams. “Perfect! You're just in time for our couple’s lunch special. It comes with two entrees, a shared appetizer, and dessert for only half the price.”

For a moment, you wish you could see yourself through the waitress’ eyes. You can’t imagine a single thing that might give off the impression that you and Mingyu were a couple. There’s too much space between the two of you, and the look you two share is enough for you to gleam that he’s equally flabbergasted.

He turns to look back to the unassuming waitress. “Oh, we’re not—”

The world’s most brilliant idea strikes you then. You act on it before you can develop a semblance of shame.

“We'll take it,” you cut in smoothly, linking your arm through Mingyu’s before he can ruin it. You smile sweetly at the waitress, completely ignoring the way Mingyu goes rigid beside you.

As you’re led to a corner table by the window, he leans down to frantically whisper, “What the hell was that?”

“A good deal,” you respond cheerfully. “Unless you want to pay full price just to protect your ego.”

He glares. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You knew that when you got in the car.”

The waitress sets down your menus and tells you she’ll be back shortly for your order. Mingyu slumps in his seat, looking very much like you’ve told him he can never play soccer ever again.

“Cheer up,” you say, nudging his shin under the table. “If you play your cards right, I might even feed you.”

His eyes narrow. "You wouldn’t dare."

Ah, but you would dare. The moment the pasta arrives, you’re already grinning. You twirl the noodles with your fork; he tries to communicate with his gaze that he wants you dead.

“Say ahhh, loverboy,” you sing-song.

“Absolutely not.”

You kick him again. He hisses mid-sip of water. “Just pretend, Mingyu,” you say through the teeth of your smile. “God, have you never faked a relationship for free food before?”

“I have not, actually,” he retorts. “Fuckin’ cheapskate.”

Begrudgingly, he opens his mouth. He at least seems to know that you’re not about to let up. You shove the fork into his mouth; he retaliates by ‘feeding’ you some chicken piccata, though it’s more of him forcing the bite into your mouth even after you’ve protested the presence of peas.

The next half hour is full of increasingly absurd couple behavior. You fake gasp when he offers you water. He pretends to be offended when you steal his garlic bread. You stage-whisper pet names across the table just loud enough for the waitress to hear, coos of baby and sweetheart in between eye rolls and grimaces.

And through it all, there are moments— brief, fleeting— when his eyes linger on yours just a second too long. When his smile is a little too soft. When his hand brushes yours and he doesn’t pull away immediately.

You tell yourself it’s all part of the act.

But maybe that’s not the whole truth.

The meal ends as it should. Mingyu foots the bill, and he does it without complaint. On your way out, the waitress smiles at the two of you like you’re some couple to be revered.

Pride sparks like a flint in your chest. You douse it as quickly as you can manage.

Outside, the sun is bright and the sidewalk smells like coffee and car exhaust. With your joint scoping done, the two of you walk a little slower than usual. You’re unsure why you’re not rushing to get back to the car.

“Well,” you say casually, “you make a convincing boyfriend. Color me shocked.”

Mingyu gives you a flat look. “Glad to know my fake relationship skills impress you.”

“What can I say? Low expectations,” you chirp, then jab him lightly with your elbow. “Now that I think about it— you're pretty single, huh. Why is that, again?”

It’s a jab that you’ve delivered far better in the past. Jokes about him being unable to pull. Remarks of him not knowing the first thing about romance or women.

Today, though, it comes out as a query of genuine curiosity. One you typically might throw at someone you wanted to gauge interest in, and my God, how damning was that?

Mingyu doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He answers your question with frustrating casualness, toying with his car keys as he drags his feet. “Busy. Not looking. The usual.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Lame excuse. Try again.”

“What about you?” he counters, the attempt at evasion only driving you a little more crazy. “Still turning down anyone who doesn’t meet your god-tier standards?”

You tilt your chin up, mock-offended. “Absolutely. Only the best for me.”

“Yeah? What does that even mean?”

It’s obvious. You know the answer to this.

“Someone who’s funny. Smart. A little annoying but not, like, murder-worthy,” you ramble. “Tall, but not weird-tall. Knows how to argue without being a total asshole. Kind to animals. Can cook. Probably has nice hands.”

The words come out easily, too easily. You mean to keep it jokey, casual, but the list tumbles out before you can really filter it. It’s only when you hear it out loud that it hits you.

You know someone like that.

Your mouth goes dry. A beat passes.

You realize, too late, that you've gone quiet. That the silence between you has shifted. It’s not awkward, but it’s charged.

Mingyu bumps your shoulder with his, snapping you out of your reverie. “That’s oddly specific,” he taunts. “Anyone I know?”

You scoff and shove him away. “Shut up.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see him fighting down a teasing grin. You can feel your pulse thudding in your ears, can feel the heat creeping up the back of your neck.

You don’t dare look at him.

You hope Mingyu doesn’t know. You hope he doesn’t realize you just described someone that sounds suspiciously like—

▸ S01E14: THE ONE WITH THE WORST SEVEN MINUTES OF MINGYU’S LIFE.

Mingyu knows better than anyone, just how true the platitude every second counts is.

He plays soccer. Of course he knows the value of a ticking clock, of a last-minute save, of seconds that tick by arduously slow.

The clock has always been his enemy. But, today, it’s his friend.

Every second that ticks by moves the hands on the clock. Every movement on the clock will end this game faster.

He had this coming, really. When Ryujin dared him to kiss a girl— any girl— in the circle, he had known he was being baited. They all wanted him to choose you, to confirm whatever stupid assumptions they’d made about your complicated relationship.

Mingyu lived to defy expectations, so he leaned over and pulled Chaeyoung into his lap, and he kissed her like it meant something. Did his eyes briefly flicker open to check if you were watching? Did he feel some sort of sick, perverse triumph when he saw that you looked annoyed?

He should have known that karma would bite him back fast. You had the tendency to do that— knowing just how to piss him off right back.

It’s been two minutes and thirty-five seconds since you stepped into that goddamn pantry with Yugyeom.

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Jinyoung had teased when the bottle landed on you, giving you free rein to choose anyone.

And Mingyu knew immediately that it wouldn’t be him.

Your high school friend group had jeered and laughed and teased when you reached for Yugyeom. Mingyu was not an inherently violent person, but he wanted so badly, in that moment, to wipe the smug smirk off the other man’s face.

You didn’t even look at Mingyu as you slinked away with Yugyeom.

Mingyu is nursing a new bottle now.

Trying to focus on the game. Trying to ignore the empty spaces in the circle. Someone’s daring something scandalous, a strip tease of some sorts—

You’re wearing his jacket, Mingyu realizes. From the little spat earlier this night when you’d spilled rum down the front of your shirt. Before you could throw a hissy fit, he’d shoved his varsity jacket in your arms and told you to suck it up.

The thought of Yugyeom unbuttoning that piece of clothing— that one thing on your body that might mark you as Mingyu’s, if it mattered at all— has the keeper clenching his beer bottle a little tighter.

It’s been three minutes and twelve seconds. Mingyu doesn’t know why he’s counting it down, but he also doesn’t know how to keep his cool.

His brain keeps supplying him with images of what he might do if he were in Yugyeom’s place.

The realistic answer: You’d sulk, probably. Find a way to blame him for the situation. The two of you would bicker the entire seven minutes and then come out of the secluded pantry in foul moods. Seven minutes in hell, he would say sarcastically, when asked, and you’d flip him off.

Underneath the realistic answer, though, is something that’s close to a fantasy. His hands resting at your sides, his touch warm over your— his— jacket. Your fingers entangled in his hair. The way he'd have to lean down, to tilt his head.

Would you taste like all the alcohol you’d drank that night?

Would you taste like everything he’s ever dreamed of?

Mingyu shakes his head and takes a sip of his beer, his fingers trembling around the bottle. Eunwoo is stripping as part of a dare; Mingyu tries to focus on that, and not on the fact that it’s been five minutes and fifty-two seconds.

Jungkook lets out a loud squeal. The sound pierces through the pre-drunk migraine that Mingyu already feels coming on. The sound—

What would you sound like?

In his arms. Against his mouth. Underneath—

“Fuck,” Mingyu cusses lowly, the word spoken mostly to himself.

He’s drunk. He’s riled up. And you’re just so pretty tonight—

“Oi, lovebirds!” Jinyoung calls out in the direction of the pantry. “Seven minutes are up!”

Mingyu barely registers the sharp ring of the seven-minute alarm going off, or the jabs that everybody else throws out. His gaze is now fixed on the pantry door, the one he has to fight every urge to approach. Every second that ticks past the required mark has his head spinning with thoughts, with ideas that he would rather not dwell on.

Yugyeom emerges first, that smirk of his still in place. You come out right after, looking unruffled as you smooth out the front of your shirt.

You don’t waste a single beat. Your eyes find Mingyu’s face, where he’s poorly concealed just how much more intoxicated he's gotten in your absence.

A corner of your mouth tilts upward in a vicious smile. The action you give him next is so brief, he could have imagined it.

You pucker your lips.

A flying kiss.

Mingyu has never wanted you so badly.

▸ S01E15: THE ONE WITH THE WORST SEVEN MINUTES OF YOUR LIFE.

Seven minutes.

You could do anything in seven minutes.

Say something stupid. Say something brave. Let someone kiss you. Let someone else go.

You step into the pantry and it smells like cinnamon and dust and maybe a little bit of regret. Yugyeom’s behind you, grinning like this is just another game. And maybe to him, it is. A dare. A kiss. A story to laugh about later.

The second the door shuts, the world dulls. Muffled cheers and drunken cackles blur into the walls, and it’s just the two of you in this cramped little time capsule. His hand grazes your arm. Your breath catches, but not for the reason it’s supposed to.

“Hey, pretty,” Yugyeom greets, and there’s some sort of vindication in knowing he actually does think you’re pretty.

This was an evening of unepic proportions, of high school friends coming together for a birthday party and bad decisions. In your head, there’s some small consolation to the fact that there’s not much light in the pantry.

Just the hint of fluorescence flooding through the door crack, reminding you of a loose circle where Mingyu is seated.

The thought of him makes your skin crawl. It’s bad enough that you don’t know how to act around him anymore. But then he went in to make out with Chaeyoung of all fucking people—

“Let’s get on with this, Kim,” you tell Yugyeom, trying to sound convincing, sultry.

Your voice wavers just a bit on the surname. Wrong Kim.

To give Yugyeom some credit, he laughs softly before leaning in. His lips are warm. Kind. And you think, briefly, that he must be good at this. The kind of guy who gets picked in these games a lot. The kind of guy who smiles and means it.

You wonder if you’ll feel anything when he kisses you.

You don’t.

It’s not bad. It’s just not… anything.

You try. You really, really do. Your fingers curl at the front of Yugyeom’s shirt; his own hands dance over your sides. Over the jacket, over Mingyu’s jacket, and you wince because you’re thinking of him, of the way he’d introduced himself to the unfamiliar faces with that winning smile and that nickname of his, the stupid Gyu you never get to call him—

“Mmm,” Yugyeom hums against your lips. He pulls back, eyes still closed, a lazy grin on his face. “Did you just say ‘Gyu’?”

Fuck.

You blink at Yugyeom, your brain slow to catch up. “No, I didn’t,” you sputter.

He opens one eye. “You totally did.”

You could say you said Gyeom. You could simply shut Yugyeom up with a fiercer kiss, maybe a little more action.

But it’s there, out in the open, curling in the space between you two like something dangerous and damaging

The slip wasn’t just a slip. It was your heart showing its cards. A royal fucking flush you can’t even begin to run from.

Your hand falls to your side. Yugyeom steps back.

No annoyance, no dramatics— just something soft in his smile that makes it worse. “You wanna try that again? With the right guy’s name this time?”

You cover your face with your hands. “Yugyeom,” you groan, because while you can’t bring yourself to try making out again, you can at least say the right name. “Please don’t make fun of me.”

“Never,” he chirps. He shifts to lean on one of the pantry’s low shelves, hands tucked in his hoodie. “So. Mingyu, huh?”

You don’t answer right away.

Because what is there to say? That you’ve spent more than half your life wrapped in arguments and almosts and the kind of tension that should’ve burned out by now but hasn’t? That the sound of your name in Mingyu’s mouth makes you want to scream or kiss him or both? That he gave you his stupid jacket and you’re still wearing it like it means something?

“It’s complicated,” you gripe.

Yugyeom cackles. “That’s the most girl-who’s-in-love thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Shut up.”

He doesn’t. “You know he was watching the door like a lovesick puppy, right?”

That shouldn’t make your heart flutter. It does anyway. “He was?” you ask, and you could kick yourself for just how giddy you sound.

It’s as close to a direct confirmation that Yugyeom is going to get. You think that he might be grinning, but it’s not something you can be sure of in the darkness. It’s something you hear instead, bleeding into his words. “Pretty sure he was ready to fight me.”

You sit beside Yugyeom. The shelf creaks. Your hands are cold in your lap, but your face is burning.

“Do you love him?” he asks, and it’s so straightforward you want to laugh.

You don’t say a thing. It’s one of those silence-means-yes moments, one of those things that should go unsaid.

The sun is warm, the sky is blue, and you’re in love with Kim Mingyu.

Despite how much the fact has simmered underneath your skin, it’s something you can’t bring yourself to say out loud. Because it’s not that easy. Because it’s him. Because you know the way he is— impulsive and stubborn and so good at pretending he doesn’t care when really, he cares too much.

And so you don’t answer Yugyeom. The two of you kill the remaining minutes in silence; it’s almost like your friend is letting you sit with the truth, the realization.

After a long moment, he leans in to press a chaste, friendly kiss to the top of your head.

“Whatever it is,” he mumbles into your hair, “he’s one lucky bastard.”

You let out a watery laugh. You hadn’t even realized you were tearing up— the sheer fear of the reality overwhelming you.

Jinyoung’s voice echoes from outside. “Oi, lovebirds! Seven minutes are up!”

“Come on. Gotta act like we had some fun in here,” Yugyeom urges. “You picked me to make him jealous, right? Let’s make it look like that.”

“I owe you my first born child,” you respond, genuinely grateful despite everything.

“Hopefully the one you’ll have with Ming—”

“Let’s not go there.”

He messes with your hair. You rumple up his shirt. It’s all a farce, a show, and Yugyeom is kind enough to play along. He throws you a conspiratorial wink as he steps out, that smirk of his slotting right back on to his barely-swollen lips.

You take a deep breath, and then you follow.

It’s almost like a magnet, how your eyes seek out Mingyu. He looks just a little more drunk; a feat, considering the fact you’ve been gone for only seven minutes.

You can’t help it. Your mouth twitches in a fond grin. The way his gaze is burning into you, the way he’s clutching his beer bottle just a little too tightly?

That might be what compels you. It’s a flicker of an action, a ghost of a tease. You throw him a flying kiss, giggling to yourself when his face flushes a shade of red.

You have never wanted Mingyu so badly.

▸ S01E16: THE ONE WITH THE ‘MISTAKE’.

He doesn't want to be mad.

Truly. Logically. On paper— whatever. Mingyu knows he started it.

He kissed Chaeyoung first. He played the game. He played you. And now here you are, sitting cross-legged on his couch in your usual over-the-top family dinner outfit. Like that one night at the party didn’t end with him counting down seconds that felt like drowning.

You’re humming some song under your breath. You’re so calm, so nonchalant.

Mingyu is not. He stomps and clenches his hands into fists and slams his drawer with more force than necessary.

You glance up from your phone. “Damn,” you say with a low whistler. “Did the closet offend you or something?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s pulling clothes out of his dresser like they all personally insulted him. Button-down, slacks, watch, socks. All too formal for something that’s supposed to be casual, but tonight everything feels like a performance.

He ducks into his room and dresses quickly. By the time he emerges, you’re already standing by the front door. It shoots a momentary panic through him, the thought of you leaving.

But then you’re quipping, “You said we had to leave at seven. It’s 6:55. Just reminding you before you start blaming me for being late.”

“I’m not blaming you,” he grunts, padding across his living room in search of his wallet.

He can see you looking skeptical in his peripheral vision. “Sure feels like it,” you huff.

“Can you not?”

“Can I not what? Breathe in your general direction?”

Mingyu exhales sharply. He should stop. He should apologize. He should not make this worse.

He does.

“Yeah?” His tone drips with derision as he finally shoves his essentials into the pocket of his trousers. “Maybe if you weren’t so good at pretending nothing ever touches you, I wouldn’t have to.”

You laugh; the sound is incredulous, sharp. Offended?

“Right, because clearly you’re the one who’s been suffering,” you jeer. And then, completely out of the left field—

“I forgot how hard it must’ve been for you, kissing Chaeyoung like your life depended on it.”

There’s so much to unpack. The way you’re bringing this whole thing up days after it happened, even after you and Mingyu have just kind of… bristled at each other a lot more. Mingyu wanted to think your patience was just a lot thinner than usual— as was his— but he hadn’t imagined it would be related to that night. Or to Chaeyoung.

It makes his heart, the traitor that it is, practically stop in his chest.

He knows where you’re getting at. He knows what this could mean. He just has to make sure, and it’s in the way he tries to keep up with his rage when he snaps, “What does that have to do—”

“Why didn’t you kiss me?”

And there it is.

The question cuts through everything. Your voice— loud at first, angry— is suddenly small. Wounded.

Mingyu’s head spins.

You wanted him to kiss you.

His mouth opens then closes. Your face is incandescent, burning with shame. He knows this about you, knows you’ve never been able to deny yourself a thing. You’re an open book, a heart-on-the-platter type of girl. As badly as he wants to try and figure out all the signs he might have missed, he’s more concerned with the fact that you’re already trying to take it back.

Your hand is on the door handle. You’re about to make a run for it, Mingyu realizes, and that’s not something he’s going to let happen.

Before you can get too far, his fingers are wrapping around your wrist and tugging you back.

When you look up at him, his expression is contorted into a mix of torment and want. You’re not looking any better yourself; you look caught between desire and fear, like all the years you’ve shared are bearing down on the two of you.

You look as crazy as Mingyu feels.

“I was waiting,” Mingyu breathes, his eyes wide and wild. “I was waiting—”

“For what?” you bite out. “What were you waiting for?”

His sharp response is softened by the desperation edging his tone. “For the perfect moment,” he snaps.

Mingyu tugs you into his space. He’s gentle, still, as he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer until you’re chest to chest. He has to tuck his head to press his forehead against yours, and he can’t breathe.

You’re holding your breath, too, like you’re fighting every instinct to kick up a fuss at how patient he’s being. He has to be. He has to be, or else he’s going to give you everything when the two of you have to meet your families for the night.

His breath ghosts over your lips, which are already parted so beautifully for him.

“But I guess,” he whispers, his heart in his throat, at your feet, in your hands, “my shitty apartment is as good as any for a first kiss, huh?”

Mingyu doesn’t even wait for you to answer.

He closes the distance and presses down into you, enough that you end up taking a step back. When your nails sink into Mingyu’s shoulders to hold yourself steady, he lets out a low hiss against your mouth but refuses to pull away.

He kisses you like he’s thought about doing it for years.

And maybe he has. Maybe it’s always been there— this prospect, this possibility, and he could’ve gone his whole life just wondering what it might be like.

Now that he has it, has you, he doesn’t know if he can go without it.

It might be a mistake. He knows that.

He’s crossed a line you’ve both danced around for too long. There's a part of him— rational and careful— that screams this could ruin everything.

But then you kiss him back.

You kiss him back like you mean it, like you’re angry about all the years wasted not doing this. Like you want to climb into the marrow of him and stay there.

Mingyu doesn’t know how long it lasts. Doesn’t care. Eventually, the space between you pulls taut again, and you're both left staring, dazed, stunned, as if the world has shifted under your feet.

His fingers ghost over his lips. They’re swollen, just like yours, and he knows there’s no going back from this. There’s no way he’ll ever be able to convince himself that you’re some annoying pest instead of the love of his goddamn life.

“We— we should go,” Mingyu says hoarsely, barely above a whisper. It’s all he can manage.

And for once, you don’t fight him.

▸ S01E17: THE ONE WITH THE PROMISE.

The bane of your existence drives you to your family’s monthly dinner in his car with its one working speaker, and a half-eaten protein bar wedged into the cupholder.

You complain about the lack of legroom. He snarks back about your giant tote bag taking up all the space. It’s almost impressive how easily the two of you slip back into the familiar routine of bickering.

If someone were to eavesdrop, they’d never guess you’d made out half an hour ago. That he’d kissed you like you were the only thing keeping him breathing; that you’d kissed him like he had all the answers to the questions you’ve been afraid to ask.

Mingyu parallel parks like an asshole— too far from the curb— and you mutter something under your breath as you slam the door shut behind you.

“You could say thank you,” he says, locking the car.

“Thank you,” you echo. “For the trauma.”

He almost smiles. The sight of him fighting that back reminds you of his lips, how they’d been so soft against yours despite the heated, desperate way he moved.

Your brain is going to be in the gutter the whole evening. You’re sure of it.

Your families are already there at the vouchsafed hipster café when the two of you walk through the door. For a treacherous moment, everything feels like clockwork again. The smell of garlic bread wafts through the air. His mother greets you with a warm hug. His dad already has a story locked and loaded. Your parents give him the same doting affection.

It’s so normal you almost forget what’s changed.

Almost.

Mingyu sits next to you instead of across from you. He offers you the breadbasket first, tops your glass when nobody else is looking.

At one point, you arch a brow at him, suspicious. He says nothing.

It’s all suspicious.

Conversation flows easily enough. Your families are familiar, loud, opinionated. There’s some rapport between you and Mingyu; if your parents notice that it’s not as scathing as usual, they don’t point it out.

Under the table, something changes.

You feel it before you see it. Mingyu’s hand, careful and tentative, resting on your knee. His touch is featherlight, like he’s giving you a chance to move away.

You don’t.

It’s hidden by the table cloth, and you think you might be imagining it until you glance at him.

He’s already looking at you.

His expression is half-agony, half-hope.

And that’s the thing about Kim Mingyu. He’s always been too much and never enough. Too loud, too cocky, too frustrating. Never thoughtful enough, never serious enough, never willing to make the first move until now.

You’re done keeping score. This isn’t a battle of wits, a challenge of who can hold out better. This is a game neither of you will win.

No. This is a game you no longer have to play.

You lace your fingers through his.

Mingyu’s shoulders drop like he’s been holding that breath for years. He squeezes your hand, and you think you could get used to this, to him. You’ll have to talk about it later, to decide; for now, though, the promise of it is more than enough.

You used to think there was no universe in which you and Kim Mingyu could ever get along.

But maybe— just maybe— this one will do.

#mingyu x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svthub #keopihausnet #mingyu imagines #mingyu fluff #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #kim mingyu x reader #(💎) page: svt #(🥡) notebook

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cuteandhughesy · 4 months ago

Text

Met You At The Right Time, This Is What It Feels Like | Quinn Hughes

summary: falling in love with quinn through your shared years at college (umich!quinn x reader)

[word count] 3.3k

a/n: based off this request! this was so fucking fun and cute to write and now I want quinn as my boyfriend ! so hope you all feel the same

🎵 feels like by gracie abrams, constellations by jade lemac, birds of a feather by billie eilish, + live while we're young by one direction

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

ღ bf! quinn hughes who you first met at the rink. one of your good friends was dating another one of the wolverines and asked you to accompany her to his game.

quinn had spotted you during the warm-ups. your smile wide and amused as you watched all the athletes warm up in their own routines. you were joking with chloe—your friend—while her boyfriend tossed you both pucks over the glass. quinn almost passed out when you glanced his way—sending him a sweet, reserved grin. he forced himself to smile back, and when that made you blush and look away, quinn knew that he had to know you.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who asked his teammate about you as soon as the game finished—a victory for the wolverines, thankfully. he attempted to sound nonchalant and uninterested, but his teammate knew quinn too well. he wrapped quinn up in a firm, annoying side huge and gave him a nugie, all while saying 'does huggy bear have a crush on y/n?'

quinn thought the name suited you perfectly. thankfully quinn doesn’t need to ask again before his teammate is getting your number from chloe.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who texted you the following night. at first you were confused—a random number sending you a message with no identification other than a simple 'hey, is this y/n?' curious and intrigued, you responded immediately; 'this is she. who's this?'

quinn's response was immediate, 'shit, sorry. it's quinn hughes.'

and of course that made you giggle into your palm, feet kicking like you're an oversized excited child. because quinn fucking hughes was texting you. quinn hughes, the cutie who sits two rows back from you in kinesiology class. quinn hughes who was stupid good at hockey and was looking at you during warmups the day before.

you don't even care how he got your number (he told you regardless though, obviously), all you cared about was him wanting to text you in the first place.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who after a week and a million shared text messages later, you run into at a local coffee shop—where you merely miss spilling your entire iced chai down the front of his light coloured hockey hoodie.

he freezes and stutters at the sight of your flushed face, and his nerves only build when he sees that you're not nervous to talk to him. quinn quickly realizes he has some sort of infatuation with you, and before he can sike himself out he asks you on a date.

quinn asks in the middle of your scentence, but you don't even care. he's cute—he's dorky. 'would you wanna get dinner together sometime? like maybe thursday, if you're free?'

you are so free.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who picks you up at your dorm room before your first date. he lives off campus with his friends, and he borrowed his roommates car to come and get you. he brings you flowers—which you put in an empty orange juice bottle that you filled with water—and hugs you at the door. it’s kinda awkward and so perfectly quinn.

he lets his hand hover your lower back as you walk to the car, and of course he opens the door for you. quinn lets you play your music in the car, and he lets you talk his ear off—he can’t help but admire how comfortable you are around him. he thinks you’re like sunshine.

quinn takes you to a local italian restaurant, where you order chicken alfredo and he orders spaghetti bolognese. the conversation flows between you easily, and by the time desert rolls around, you’re sharing a lava cake—your respective spoons swiping at each others while playfully fighting for the same bites.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who after bringing you back to your dorm, grabs your wrist before you can walk in. your roommate isn’t home yet, and you can smell the peonies quinn brought that you left in the jug by the door.

you blink at him curiously, because you’ve already shared your pleasant goodbyes and made plans to see each other again. ‘you okay?’

quinn’s palm is sweaty where it wraps around you. he’s nervous, and he swallows roughly—eyes darting around your blushing face like he can’t get enough. ‘can I kiss you?’

your answer is pushing up to your toes and wrapping you arms around his neck. that’s when quinn leans down, kissing you timidly but also firmly. he’s never felt lips softer than yours, and you’ve never had a kiss turn your stomach inside out the way quinn’s did.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who asks you on a second date, and then a third, and then a fourth. each date is accompanied by a kiss, and another kiss—until all it feels like you’re doing is giggling and kissing like teenagers.

he’s a gentleman, and never makes advances that you aren’t comfortable with. quinn brings you to the beach for sunsets, kissing you under the glow of the setting sun. he takes you to the movies and to a local pottery class—sneaking kisses anytime your eyes meet.

he asks you to be his girlfriend on your fourth date while you’re both still in the car, hands twitching against his pants nervously. you’ve never smiled bigger, and you squeal in excitement, leaning over the centre console and kissing him.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who has never had a serious girlfriend before, only stupid month or so situationships and meaningless hookups. so now that he’s got you, an actual girlfriend, he’s enamoured by all the little ‘girlfriend’ things you do.

quinn goes feral when you wear his clothes. the sight of you waking up in his cozy bed, blinking tiredly while his shirt rides up your body, revealing your underwear…quinn just about dies.

you cook dinner for him, and you always tickle his back when he’s falling asleep. you want to watch all his favourite movies, and you want to learn about hockey—which leads to him teaching you how to skate, where you inevitably fall and bring him down with you.

you’re the perfect girlfriend. and even though quinn stresses he doesn’t need you to fold his laundry or pick up his shampoo when you notice he’s out, he appreciates it more than he could ever express.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who always is getting you flowers. whether it’s a pre-made bouquet from the grocery store, an arrangement he picked out at the florist, or a bunch of wild flowers from the park beside his house, quinn is giving you flowers.

when he’s at the grocery store he always picks up your favourite ben & jerry’s ice cream, as well as your favourite drink. quinn always makes sure you have water before he gets in bed himself, because you’ll be upset if you don’t, and he lets you tuck your feet under his legs because they’re always cold.

quinn is the sweetest boy you’ve ever known and he is constantly making sure you’re content before anything else.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who takes your virginity. you’ve only had one boyfriend and that was back in highschool—the farthest you’d gone with him was kissing and a little groping. when you tell quinn that you’re a virgin, he’s a little nervous—especially because he’s already hovering over you, painfully hard while your bare tits are starring at him. the only reason he’s nervous is because he wants you to be comfortable and sure. he wants it to be perfect for you.

but when you assure him in a breathy whisper, your small nimble fingers reaching out and squeezing his dick, quinn can’t hold himself back any longer. he fucks you soft and sweet, bucking into you at a pace that has your breath hitching. quinn checks on you through the whole thing, scattering kisses along your face and neck while you’re moaning in pleasure.

it’s perfect for you, and that makes it perfect for quinn.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who plays a little extra hard when you’re in the crowd. there’s something so special about having you watching him in the stands during his games, cheering him on and jumping up and down with excitement. quinn swears he can hear you over the crowd, and that always pushes him a little bit more.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who always makes sure to comfort you when you’re stressed—and vice versa.

you often get overwhelmed with your school work. you’re very smart and have a jam packed schedule, and a lot of the time if you want to spend time with quinn, you’re bringing your textbooks and laptop so you can get some work done. quinn hates the way you sigh shakily when you reach a difficult question. you’re tired and done with school, and most of the time it makes you emotional.

when you begin to cry quinn darts to you, wrapping you in a hug while you sob into his shoulder. he rubs your back soothingly, squeezing your arms and sides comfortingly. he whispers words of reassurance in your ear until you’ve calmed down, and when you inevitably get back to work, quinn helps you. even though he has no fucking clue what you’re working on, the effort makes you melt.

quinn is always the most stressed when he’s dealing with an injury or illness—because that puts a pause on hockey. you know how much hockey means to your boyfriend, and seeing him so broken about not being able to play just wrecks you. in times like that, it’s the little things you do that help quinn feel better.

making him food and making sure he’s stocked up on drinks and getting his electrolytes. massaging his shoulders and giving him head scratches. if he’s injured you make sure he’s got everything in reach so he doesn’t have to move, and if he’s sick you make sure you’re in reach, because all quinn ever wants is you.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who isn’t a huge party guy. he prefers staying in—watching movies and hockey highlights until he’s falling asleep, preferably with you tucked into his side.

you’ve always been more outgoing than quinn, and mingling is one of your favourite things to do. so every now and then when you go out, quinn joins you. he loves watching you in your element—dancing with your friends and talking to anyone who will listen. and when you’re wrapping yourself around quinn, blinking and pouting up at him all pretty asking him to dance with you, quinn never declines.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who has a few lovey dovey nicknames for you—lovey being one of them. there’s a few more common terms of endearment like babe, baby and beautiful that often slip from his lips like second nature. they’re the safest ones, the nicknames he’ll call you around his friends and yours like it’s no big deal. but then there’s the nicknames he reserves for when it’s just you both—honey, his girly, and your personal favourite: lovey.

your nicknames for quinn are simple—usually just babe or baby. but on the odd occasion when everything feels really soft and intimate, you’ll can him bubba.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who’s love language is words of affirmation. he didn’t realize it until after he met you that it was his love language, but anytime you praise him or reassure him, quinn’s stomach swoops and his heart flutters excitedly. he’s obsessed with the way you speak to him, and he’ll never get tired of it.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who knows your love language is physical touch. you love being close to quinn. if you’re not sitting next to him, you’re sitting on him—trying to get as close as possible at any means necessary. you love wrapping your hands around his arm, and throwing your leg over his hips when you’re in bed together.

quinn can be a bit awkward when it comes to physical contact, especially in public, and you understand and respect that. so when you’re out together and he kisses your cheek or wraps you in a hug, it makes it just that much sweeter.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who may not always go out to parties with you, but will always drop you off and pick you up if you need a ride. it could be a local bar or a random sticky frat house, quinn will be there if you need him.

he’s the most patient human in the world. guiding you to the car while you babble about nonsense—completely hammered. quinn pulls over if you feel sick, even if you has to pull over 15 times in a 5 minute ride. he helps you shower if you’re sticky, and he puts you in pyjamas before you get in bed—no matter who’s place you’re at. quinn makes you chug water and take advil, and he makes sure you’re sleeping on your side incase you get sick.

and he doesn’t even mind doing it either. as long as you’re safe and okay, quinn will do whatever he needs to.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who says I love you first. you’ve been dating for 6 months, and spring is blooming in michigan. it’s the first really warm day of march, and he’s taken you to the pier for a afternoon date.

you walk the pier and have shitty boardwalk food—laughing, kissing and talking about anything and everything. dates like this are always your favourite. just you, quinn and the comforting atmosphere.

you had been mid talking about the book you were reading, a book that was making you angry because you claimed the plot was ‘stupid’. you were telling quinn about the main character, hands moving animatedly as you talked when quinn just said it.

‘I love you so much, y/n’ he said quitley. but you heard it, and your previous ramble comes to a halt. you blinked once, and then again, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. and then tears begin forming in your eyes, and quinn smiles. ‘don’t cry lovey’ he said, pulling you into his chest.

but of course you continue to cry, holding onto quinn like your life depended on it. and when you look up at him and say it back, lashes all wet and nose running, quinn thinks you’ve never looked prettier.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who has to be almost sneaky when it comes to having sex with you. you live in a dorm room with a roommate, and he lives in a house with four other teammates. quinn doesn’t have his own car, and neither do you. having sex is like trying to curate a spy mission.

you have to plan times you’ll be alone, which is usually in your dorm room between 5 p.m and 6:30 p.m while you’re roommate is in a clinical lab. that’s always the best sex with quinn because he doesn’t have to hold back. he holds you against the mattress with his body, and there’s a pillow shoved under your hips while he slips in from behind. quinn pounds you into the mattress until it’s creaks, and he has to cover your mouth to muffle your moans. after all, it’s still a dorm room and you have neighbours.

but there are times when you’re both too impatient and horny. his roommates are scattered through his house, half downstairs and the other only a room over. quinn’s simple and innocent kisses soon turn more heated, and before either of you can think logically, you’re exposing only the essentials so quinn can slip into your heat while he holds your legs open.

your moans are muffled with his lips, and he shoves a pillow between the wall and headboard to not give away what you’re doing.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who gets really stressed once scouts starts checking him out for the upcoming draft. you notice in the way his shoulders are tighter, and he starts to get a little distant.

of course it hurts your feelings, but you understand the pressure he’s feeling. so like the sweet girlfriend quinn knows you to be, you reassure him. you’re not too pushy, and you’re not overwhelming. you kiss him gently and whisper your confidence in him when it’s just the two of you, facing each other in bed—nothing but the moonlight illuminating you.

it helps him more than you’ll ever know.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who is a silent jealous type. he knows you’re social, and he also knows that guys love that. when you’re at parties and mingling your little heart out, lots of guys will try and make advances on you.

you ooze confidence, and your smile is so fucking pretty that quinn almost understands these guys. but you’re his girlfriend, and the sight of these boys trying to touch you and flirt with you makes his blood boil.

of course you don’t entertain them, but that doesn’t stop the jealousy that stirs within your boyfriend. you can always tell when quinn is feeling jealous because his body gets tense and he pouts like a little boy. it doesn’t matter where you are—could be the beach and strangers are checking out your body, or a grocery store and a man compliments your smile, quinn always has the same jealous reaction. and that’s no reaction at all expect that frown.

when you see it you’re instantly moving, wrapping yourself around quinn and giving his pulse point a little kiss. and when you murmur that you love him, quinn always cracks.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who even when you’re fighting, never raises his voice at you. it doesn’t matter how frustrated he is, or how pointless your argument is, quinn would never yell. most of the time is just makes you angrier, because why can’t he just put you in your place—especially when you know you’re being annoying and stupid. but quinn always just tries to problem solve in a calm, soothing voice.

but don’t worry, he puts you in your place in other ways ;)

ღ bf! quinn hughes who asks you to stay with him for a few weeks in the summer at the lake house before the draft.

if quinn wasn’t in love with you already, seeing you with his family would’ve had him falling. you always cook breakfast with ellen in the morning, the two of you giggling and chatting like you’ve known each other for ears. you go golfing with quinn and his dad, and even though you suck at it, jim has nothing but praise and encouragement for you.

jack and luke tease you like you’re their sister. they push you into the pool and steal your fries when you’re not looking, which always makes you laugh. you blend in with his family so well, quinn can’t do anything but smile and admire it all as it unfolds.

you sit with quinn during bonfires and movie nights on the couch, sharing quick kisses when you both think nobody is watching—news flash, somebody is always watching, which usually ends with his mom cooing or his brothers teasing. you and quinn both wake up a little extra early, stifling moans as quinn pushes into your heat in the uninterrupted hours of the morning. you swim like kids, go grocery shopping with his brothers, dance in the moonlight as taylor swift songs, make out on the boat when everyone else stays back. it’s perfect. its simply just you and quinn.

ღ bf! quinn hughes who you sit beside at the nhl draft. he’s nervous, your hand clutched in his clammy one while his thumb runs over your knuckles absentmindedly. just before the draft starts, you squeeze his hand three times, a silent I love you. and quinn squeezes back.

his name gets called and you feel like crying. he hugs his parents first, and then quinn turns to you, a smile on his face while your eyes begin to go misty. he kisses you, in front of the cameras and the crowd because he knows you’re going to be together for the rest of your lives, and the nhl might as well get used to you now, because you’re not going anywhere.

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #quinn hughes headcanons #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine #nhl headconons #nhl smut #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey headcanons #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #hockey x reader #quinn hughes

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cherspastries · 11 days ago

Text

PRETTY THINGS,

WITTY WORDS!

GET IN LINE!

Lando Norris x Reader

SUMMARY 𐙚 Lando’s been waiting for the right moment to make a move. When he finds out you’ve broken up with your toxic boyfriend, he seizes the perfect opportunity!

WARNINGS 𐙚 Mentions of a toxic relationship

A/N 𐙚 First SMAU ever… I had to break out my graphic design skills for this one 🫣

DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN

lando

🎵 MF DOOM • Coffin Nails

liked by abercrombie, mclaren, lnfour, and 523K others

lando Don’t miss out on this

view all comments

user1 He’s sooo fine

user2 who’s missing out on what?! 😩

abercrombie on the merch! Buy it now!! 😤

user3 We all dread the day someone claims a piece of him

user4 It’s gonna be me ♪

→ user5 no way

yourusername Nobody missing out on shit 💀

lando I’d roast you but my mom said not to burn trash

→ yourusername CORNBALL!

ー→ user6 can you guys stop flirting

ーー→ yourusername Alright fun’s ruined

user6 never bought a shirt so fast

lnfour 🔥 make sure to wear your sweatshirt when watching the race 👀

user7 A hit as always

𐙚

yourusername

🎵 Doja Cat • Ain’t Shit

liked by lando, friend1, friend2, mclaren, and 12.3K others

yourusername This is your sign to break up with your toxic boyfriend #freedom

view all comments

user1 YESS

user2 ATE

lando You have access to McLaren passes and yet you picked FERRARI? 😤

yourusername I look better in red

→ lando I thought we were friends

user3 Men ain’t shit

user4 GOODBYE BUM

user5 Thank God

scuderiaferrari Our new biggest fan

yourusername OFC 💋

charles_leclerc Lovely meeting you

yourusername omfg.

→ user6 GIRL you won

→ lando 🧐

𐙚

lando

🎵 Frank Ocean • Pink + White

liked by yourusername, lnfour, mclaren, and 521K others

lando Merch drop 🔥

view all comments

user1 HE LOOKS… 😳

yourusername ok mog

lando 🤫🧏‍♂️

lnfour 🔥🔥🔥🔥

user2 is it hot in here? 🥵

yourusername No it’s just me

→ user3 Why are you always in his comments? It’s giving obsessed…

ー→ yourusername God forbid a girl have friends

user4 Y/N in their breakup era… Lando in his single era…

user5 Let’s not

→ user6 bffr they have so much chemistry, you’re just jealous

𐙚

Regardless of his forewarning, Lando’s sudden arrival at your house had taken you by surprise. He arrived with such haste, you had to giggle at the idea of the racer speeding across the city to get to you. The knock came roughly twenty minutes after your exchanged messages, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Lando was impatiently standing on the other side of that door.

You steadied your nerves before pulling the gold-plated handle down to open the grand wooden door. Lando’s eyes lit up upon the sight of you, and he quickly pulled you into his grasp. His muscular arms encircled your waist, tugging you taut to his chest as he spun you around in an elegant circle. With a rather loud smacking sound, he stole a kiss away from you.

“I’ve waited so long to do that,” He spoke with a cheesy, boyish grin. His curls framed his face, and his smile lit up his features perfectly. He was the definition of handsome. You giggled as you combed through his soft locks.

“Now you’ll never have to wait again.” You sealed your promise with yet another peck.

𐙚

lando

🎵 Billie Eilish • BIRDS OF A FEATHER

liked by yourusername, friend1, lnfour, and 212K others

lando This is your sign to date your best friend

tagged yourusername

view all comments

user1 I KNEW IT

user2 FINALLY

lnfour Favorite girl🔥

yourusername omg 😆🫣

lando Hey… Step back now

user3 AHHH CUTIES

oscarpiastri Congrats mate

friend1 Just know I was there first

lando Blah blah blah

→ friend1 🤨😤😠😡🤬

mclaren Time to ditch the Ferrari!

scuderiaferrari Hey wait a minute

yourusername I looove you 🤩

lando Thank God 🧡 Idk how I pulled you

→ yourusername By being a charming loser

871 notes · View notes

shadowkoo · 13 days ago

Text

Bad Influence

→ Summary: In a dark, pulsing nightclub packed with strangers, you’re just looking for a good time—free drinks, dirty dancing, maybe a hot kiss or two. But when Mingyu finds you on the dance floor, he changes the game entirely. What starts as harmless teasing spirals into a filthy, no-boundaries encounter right there in the crowd. And by the end of it, you're not sure who’s corrupting who.

↠ mingyu x f.reader | 1.6k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, strangers to lovers, pwp

→ Warnings: rave night club party vibes, bad boy!mingyu, alcohol consumption, mentions of earlier drug usage, consensual sex while under the influence of drugs & alcohol (pills mentioned but no name specifics), unprotected + explicit sex, rough sex, scratching, biting, hair pulling, grinding while dancing, fingering, finger sucking, quicky in the middle of the dance floor, exhibitionism, mild choking + breath play, cum warming/stuffing, dirty talk, praise, pet names, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

→ Networks: @ksmutsociety @k-vanity @keopihaus @lapydiaries @cosyhomenet @svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

→ Author Note: happy 10 year anniversary to seventeen!!! this idea was born bc bad influence has been playing on repeat all day and i cannot get the thunder visuals out of my head either so here you go LOL as always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

🎵 Bad influence, you had to do it, An ordinary time ain't enough for you 🎵

You slam back the first shot, barely flinching before accepting the next from the stranger beside you. He’s cute, just not your type. Still, you’re not above a little harmless flirting if it keeps the drinks coming. Lucky you.

Unlucky for him though, you have zero intention of going home with him. You flash a smile, murmuring a quick thanks before slipping between the bodies on the dance floor, losing him in the blur of lights.

Arms lifted and hips circling to the beat, you toss your hair back, letting the music take over. The mix of alcohol and pills from earlier hums through your veins, softening everything around you. It feels good.

A firm hand slides onto your hip, syncing with your movements like he already knows your rhythm. A man who can match your tempo? Instantly hot. You silently hope his face is as good as his dancing.

Sneaking a glance, you’re more than pleased. He’s insanely good-looking too. Messy black hair. A lip ring shining under the strobe lights. Probably has tattoos too, if you cared enough to look for them.

Fuck yeah, you’ll dance with him. And better yet, you’ll even let him take you home after.

“I’m Mingyu,” he says, leaning in with a cocky grin. “What’s your name, Gorg?”

“Y/N!” you shout over the music, turning back around to grind against him. His fingers trail down your sides, brushing the bare skin between your tiny skirt and your cropped, backless halter. He moves as if he knows exactly where this night is going, and you’re not about to stop him.

His lips brush your neck as you dance, followed by the teasing flick of his tongue and a playful bite that sends heat straight through you. You spin in his arms again, this time facing him, and crash your mouth to his without hesitation.

Mingyu’s arms lock around you, pulling you flush against his solid body. Your hands roam, tracing the hard lines of his biceps, his broad shoulders, the tension coiled in his back—then lower, to the firm curve of his ass.

You're sharing body heat, breathing each other in, getting lost in one another.

“Mmm,” he murmurs against your lips, “Baby, you should know I’m nothing but a bad influence.”

You pull back with a dangerous twinkle in your eyes. “So influence me then, Mr. Bad Boy,” you dare him.

🎵 Bad influеnce, you had to do it, You wanna have a good, good night 🎵

His thumb drags slowly across your lips, smearing the last of your gloss.

You part them slightly, tongue flicking out to taste the corner of your mouth, knowing exactly what you’re doing.

He takes the opening, pressing his thumb past your lips.

Instinct takes over. You close your mouth around it, tongue swirling, sucking slowly. His eyes darken, hunger and lust flashing through them.

With a soft pop, he pulls his hand away. You turn around without a word, body rolling as you grind down to the beat, taunting him to make the next move.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you back up, mouth at your ear, voice low and rough. “Don’t start something you’re not gonna finish, dollface.”

You push your ass back against the growing bulge in his jeans, grinning wickedly. “Right back at you, darlin’.”

He groans, no longer holding back, completely indifferent to the people surrounding you both. One hand wraps firmly around the front of your neck, tilting your head back and keeping your body flush against his. The other glides down your bare stomach, slipping beneath the hem of your miniskirt.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he growls, fingers sliding through the heat between your thighs. “This for me, baby? You want a good time? I’ll give you a fucking unforgettable one.”

The pressure at your throat flares for a moment, just enough to make your vision edge with stars. Then, mercifully, he loosens his grip, letting you gasp a few shaky breaths before tightening again.

“Make all the noise you want, Gorg. No one here gives a shit. I’m gonna fuck you right here too, make you lose your goddamn mind on my cock. You want that?” His fingers pick up their pace, curling relentlessly against your inner walls.

The bass from the music thuds in your ears, but it’s nothing compared to the pulse pounding between your legs. Mingyu’s breath is hot against your neck. His lips brush your skin as he mutters filthy praise into your ear.

You can feel him too, hard and throbbing through his pants, grinding against your ass in rhythm with every stroke of his fingers.

Your legs threaten to buckle as he hits that perfect spot again and again, sending tremors through your core. You're dripping, thighs slick as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. A small gasp escapes your lips, then a whimper, louder than you intended. But he was right. No one notices.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he growls, voice laced with pure desire. “Let ‘em hear how good I’m making you feel.”

You’re unraveling. The pleasure is building, sharp and blinding. You throw your head back against his shoulder, mouth parted, eyes fluttering shut as your body starts to shake.

You nod, too breathless to speak, reaching back to clutch the back of his neck. Your nails dig into his skin as he pinches your clit hard.

White-hot ecstasy tears through you, the orgasm hitting like a jolt of lightning. Your legs tremble violently, mouth falling open as a cry escapes you. Without Mingyu’s strong grip holding you up, you’re certain you’d collapse right there on the dirty dance floor.

🎵 Bad influencе, you had to do it, It's four in the morning, what the fuck we doin'? 🎵

But he’s not finished with you. Not even close.

“I wasn’t kidding, Y/N,” he growls against your ear, pulling his hand from the front of your skirt. You hear the soft, unmistakable sound of his zipper lowering as he frees himself with a quiet, practiced motion. His hand slides to your ass, tugging your soaked thong aside with a rough, impatient grip. You feel the thick head of his cock press against your slick folds, teasing, threatening.

“I’m gonna ruin you right here, between all of these people,” he whispers, his voice full of dark promise. “And you’re gonna let me. Aren’t you?”

Then he pushes in.

You both moan in unison as he begins to stretch you open. The intrusion is intense, overwhelming, and everything you didn’t know you were desperate for. The loud music around you pulses through your bodies, but all you can feel is him.

It’s so much better than you imagined.

“Fuck,” he hisses, thrusting deeper, inch by inch, until he's almost fully sheathed inside you. “You feel that? You think you can take all of me, baby?”

“Give me everything,” you mewl, voice shaking with need.

And he does.

He starts fucking you from behind, his tip hitting deep inside you while his girth stretches against your walls. You’re trapped against his body and the faceless crowd. Bodies blur around you, lights flash, bass pounds. Everyone’s too drunk, too high, too far gone to register the way your breath hitches or how his hand fists your hair to keep you upright.

His mouth brushes your ear again, “Goddamn, look at you. So perfect around my cock, so fucking greedy for it. You were made to be fucked like this, weren't you?”

“Y-yes, made for this,” you gasp, voice cracking. “Made for you.”

That last word snaps something in Mingyu.

He growls, going feral as a switch flips. His movements grow rougher, harder as he pounds into you recklessly, chasing your release like a man possessed.

You fall apart all over again, body writhing, head tossed back against his shoulder as you come undone. A hot gush of wetness spills out around him, dripping down your thighs, making an even bigger mess. But that’s a problem for later.

“Gonna come,” he grunts through clenched teeth, thrusting once, twice, then burying himself deep as his hips jerk. You feel the molten heat of his release pulse inside you, in thick and hot threads. The sensation alone is enough to make your legs buckle, arousal spiking all over again at the thought of him filling you up.

He pulls out slowly, and you feel some of his come leak out after him.

But he’s still not done.

Mingyu drops his hand between your legs, massaging your combined mess into your swollen folds. Then, with zero hesitation, he slides two fingers back inside you.

“Fuck, still so warm, so tight,” he murmurs, eyes dark as he watches your body react. “Think you can give me one more?”

He already knows the answer. Your walls flutter around his fingers, clenching in anticipation even as tears prick the corners of your eyes. It’s almost too much, but you crave it.

It’s so fucking good.

Your body tenses, shuddering violently as a third orgasm rips through you, smaller but more intense. You cry out, unable to hold back, clutching his forearm like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground.

Mingyu groans, pulling his fingers free. They’re coated in slick and come. Before you can move, he presses them back against your entrance, pushing his release back inside you with a filthy smirk.

“Can’t let it all go to waste,” he says smugly. “Gotta hide the evidence.”

You glance over your shoulder, flushed and wrecked, barely able to stand.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks, already zipping up, eyes locked on yours.

“Your place or mine?” you ask breathlessly.

🎵 Bad influence, you had to do it, You turn and say "a good, good time" 🎵

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm

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705 notes · View notes

hvseung · 7 days ago

Text

open up (l.hs)

pairing: roommate!heeseung x f!reader

genre: smut

warnings: explicit smut, profanity, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex (🥳), minors DNI !

wc: 4.7k

🎵now playing: hush by the marias

✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　. ✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　. ✦　.　　. 　 ˚

"Im assuming you're my new roommate." You spin around, almost dropping your coffee at the sound of the unexpected voice lurking behind you. A guy stood in the kitchen doorway with a lopsided grin and one hand resting on the frame. His voice had a warmth to it, like he was already trying to break the ice, but your eyes slowly grazed up and down his build.

He was tall; easily six-foot-something-and effortlessly good-looking in a casual, messy sort of way, with tousled dark hair and sharp features that probably turned heads everywhere he went. "I didn't hear you arrive last night?"

"I came in quite late," You sip your coffee. "I'm just glad I didn't wake you."

"I'm a pretty heavy sleeper - you don't have to worry about waking me up." He moves to walk beside to the kitchen island, leaning against the counter as he gives you a quick once over. "So, what's your name, then?"

"Y/N."

"Y/N..." a flicker of a smirk dances across his lips as he echoes your name almost immediately. He seems to be testing it out - like he's trying to see how it sounds coming from his mouth. "Y/N." He finally repeats, his eyes raking over your face.

"I'm Heeseung." He holds out a hand, waiting for you to take it. You clasp your hand around his. His grip is secure and steady, easily dwarfing yours as his fingers encircle your hand. As you shake, his eyes don't waver from yours; the lopsided expression hasn't faltered yet, if anything it's grown, his gaze seemingly drinking in your features.

You clear your throat, pulling your palms from his. He lets go of your hand just as quickly, a hint of a chuckle escaping his lips as he watches you pull away. "You're shy, aren't you?" He teases, his tone playful and light. "You're not going to be a very good conversationalist, are you?"

"Probably not no." You pull your lips into a thin smile, scratching softly at the back of your neck. "It's nothing against you though, I'm just not good at... talking."

A flash of a smile graces his face at your words, and he casually leans against the kitchen island, folding his arms over his chest. "Don't worry, I'll get you to open up to me eventually."

"I don't doubt that you will."

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Over the course of a few weeks, the pair of you had fallen into a pleasant routine. You had grown fairly comfortable with each other. Heeseung had somehow managed to coax you out of your shell and the two of you had an easy, friendly relationship now.

However, Heeseung seems to have grown into the habit of touching you. Nothing perverse or suggestive; it's all seemingly innocent. A hand on your shoulder to get your attention, a hand on your thigh as he squeezes past, a friendly pat on the back whenever he greeted you.

And it hadn't gone unnoticed... but you didn't mind either. It's not that Heeseung's touch is unwelcome - actually, you find yourself almost looking forward to these little touches and gestures that Heeseung seems to do without even thinking. They're all so nonchalant - it made you wonder if he treated everyone that way, or if you're the only one who got this special kind of attention.

"You're up late."

You look up from your laptop, pulling your glasses down to avoid the glare from the screen that's been burning your retinas for the past two hours. Heeseung stands in the living room doorway, clad in a grey shirt and sweatpants. His dark hair is a tousled mess, the kind of mess that somehow makes him look better, like he’d just stepped out of a dream. Which, ironically, he probably had.

"You're awake?" You ask, blinking the bleariness out of your eyes.

"Mhm. Can't sleep." He sighs.

"How come?"

Heeseung shrugs and sighs again as he walks over, taking a seat on the edge of your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it is. He’s been doing that more often lately — just showing up like this, quietly making space for himself in the corners of your day... or night, apparently.

"Just too much on my mind, I guess. I usually have trouble sleeping." His gaze finally drifts over to you, lingering in that way it sometimes does. It’s not uncomfortable, but you still feel your stomach twist a little under the weight of it. "But it looks like you're busy."

"I'm never too busy for you." The words leave your mouth before you have the chance to overthink them, which is rare for you. But it’s true. In all honesty, Heeseung was the only new friend you'd made over the last few weeks since starting college. So if that meant taking a break to spare him of his troubles, you would do it. "Gives me a reason to take a break anyway."

"Well, I'd say spending some time with me is a pretty good reason." He leans forward slightly, peering over your shoulder to get a look at what's on your screen. You're very aware of how close he is: close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him, close enough to smell the faint scent of his cologne thats worn off during the day. "What’re you doing, anyway?"

"Assignment."

Heeseung reaches down to shut the laptop without even asking. A small, panicked part of you hopes everything just auto-saved, but you don’t stop him. You let him close the screen, like you're surrendering to a better offer. And honestly, you are.

"Alright," You nod, settling back slightly. "What’s preventing your beauty sleep?"

He pauses for a moment, mulling over the question. "It's just been a long week." His voice carries a weary note, something heavy and worn tucked between the syllables, but his tired smile never falters. "Nothing you need to worry your pretty head over."

Pretty? Your stomach churns a little. Did he mean that? Or was it something to say - easy, offhand? You smile softly, hoping to comfort him. "Is there anything I can do to distract you?"

"You're always distracting me"

You blink, tilting your head. "Whats that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on.." He rolls his eyes, but there's no heat in it. Just that same tired smile. "You've got me all messed up."

You feel your heart climbing up your throat. For a second, you don’t say anything—just watch him. The way his eyes linger on you even when he’s trying to play it off, like it doesn’t matter. Like you don't matter. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It is." He huffs a breath of a laugh, his gaze dropping for just a moment before coming back to meet yours. "At least, it was supposed to be."

You raise an eyebrow. "Supposed to be?"

"You weren’t supposed to mean anything." He trails off. "But now I can't stop thinking about you."

He's so close now, you can feel the heat of him, the tension pulling taut between you. "And what if I said I’ve been thinking about you too?"

You barely finish the sentence before he closes the distance, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that’s all heat and held-back longing. His hand cups your cheek, fingers trembling slightly—like he’s been waiting for this, aching for it.

At first, the kiss is frantic, but slowly, almost reluctantly, it softens. Heeseung presses closer, not to consume but to feel. His other hand finds your chin, tilting your face gently as if he's memorizing every angle, every breath. His thumb strokes your cheek with reverence, grounding himself in the moment.

Then, he pulls back, just enough to speak, his forehead resting against yours. "I think you should get some sleep."

You blink, stunned. After a kiss like that, he’s telling you to sleep? "What about you?"

"I'll be fine without sleep for one night."

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The next few days were silent between the two of us.

Not cold. Not awkward. Just quiet.

Heeseung still lingered in the same spaces you did—hovering near the kitchen counter when you made coffee, brushing past you in the hallway with a murmured “excuse me". Your eyes would still meet every now and then, but each time, he looked away first. He didn’t avoid you, not exactly.

At night, you replayed the moment over and over. The way his lips had moved against yours like he was afraid he’d never get the chance again. The tremble in his hand. The softness that had crept in, like he was trying to say something without words.

You wanted to ask him what the kiss meant. You wanted to demand why he kissed you like he needed you and then vanished behind silence.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you held onto the memory like a secret: the way he said, “I’ll be fine without sleep for one night.” like you were worth staying up for. Like you were worth something.

"He definitely wants you."

You give yourself a once-over in the mirror before scoffing, turning to face your best friend as she intricately curls her hair. "No he doesn't."

She turns over her shoulder, looking at you as if you were the most naive person in the world. "Come on, he kissed you. No guy does that if he's just looking for friendship."

"And he obviously regrets it." You mumble.

"You cant be serious right now? Are you-" She stops short when she sees the look on your face, softening her approach. "Is he gonna be at the party tonight?"

"Everyone is gonna be at the tonight." You reply, evasive.

"Then talk to him."

You sigh. "He wont even look at me."

She sets the curling iron down and walks over, placing her hands gently on your shoulders before sliding down beside you on the bed. "Okay, look. He’s an idiot." She wraps an arm around you. "But if he’s got half a brain, he’ll figure it out."

You nod, not quite convinced.

"And if he doesn't, I'll castrate him myself."

You laugh - genuinely.

"Now come on. Let's go get you some alcohol to drown your sorrows."

The party is in full swing by the time you both arrive. The house is packed; loud music and the smell of alcohol and sweat hanging heavily in the air. Bodies are pressed together, some dancing and some just trying to squeeze by.

You smiled on the outside—playing beer pong, throwing back shots and posing for selfies—but your gaze kept drifting to the door, to corners of the room he might be hiding in. You wondered if he had arrived yet, if he arrived before you, if he was even going to come at all.

Then you saw him.

Heeseung stood near the kitchen, half-leaning against the counter, drink in hand, talking to a girl you didn’t recognise. His hair was a little messy, like he’d run his hands through it too many times, and he was wearing that stupid black hoodie he always wears. For a second, you just watched. You couldn’t help it. That familiar knot in you chest tightened - nerves.

But you didn’t think. You just walked.

By the time you were in front of him, his eyes had already found you. He straightened up, the easy smile on his face faltering into something more guarded. You stopped just close enough for him to feel the tension radiating off you.

“You came,” you said, voice sharp but quiet.

“Yeah,” he said after a pause. “Didn’t think I’d see you here, honestly.”

You folded your arms, tilting your head just slightly. “Why? Because it’s easier when I’m not around?”

The girl he was with had caught wind of how this conversation could go, and decided it was better if she left. He looked down, his thumb tracing the rim of his cup. “Thats not- It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” Your voice was steady, but your chest was tight. You were both definitely a bit too drunk for this conversation, but if it didn't happen now it was never going to. “Because you've been avoiding me ever since... you know."

You both stood there for a beat, surrounded by noise, but wrapped in your own silence.

Heeseung sighed, setting his drink down. “Can we talk? Somewhere quiet?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Let’s talk.”

You stepped outside, the hum of music and chatter fading behind you both as the door shut. The street was mostly empty, save for the occasional car passing by. Heeseung shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced at you, his jaw tense.

"So," you said. “Are you gonna pretend like nothing happened again?”

He flinched. “I’m not pretending.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” You gave a dry laugh. “You kissed me, Heeseung. And then you ghosted me all week. Not even a text.”

He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I don't know what you want me to say.”

“Try starting with, ‘Sorry for being a dickhead’,” you snapped, then regretted the bite in your tone immediately. You softened. “I just… I thought it meant something to you. It did to me.”

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at you, eyes dark and unreadable in the low light. Then, finally, he murmured, “It did. It does. That’s the problem.”

You blinked. “How is that a problem?”

He took a step closer, not touching you but close enough that you could smell the remnants of his cologne and whatever bitter drink he’d been nursing. “Because if it meant nothing, I could’ve moved on. But it meant something... and that scares the hell out of me.”

You felt your breath hitch, emotions swirling too fast to catch one cleanly. “So you avoided me because you were scared?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t want to mess it up. I didn’t know how to be around you after that night. Everything felt… different.”

“It was different,” you whispered.

He looked at you like he wanted to say something else — a hundred things, maybe — but instead he reached out, gently brushing your hand with his. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just didn’t know how to face it.”

You stared at his hand for a second before lacing your fingers through his. “Then face it now.”

He looked at you and then stepped in, closing the distance between you. “If I kiss you again,” he said, voice low, “I’m not running this time.”

You swallowed. “Then kiss me.”

He doesn’t wait for you to say it a second time.

Then his hands are on you, cupping your face and pulling you closer, his mouth claiming yours in a needy, heated kiss. The kiss was sloppy and uncoordinated - probably due to the alcohol that still lingered on both of your breaths... but neither of you minded.

Heeseungs hands dropped from your face and found their way to your hair, hid fingers curling with a light tug, coaxing a sound from the back of your throat.

"I cant stop thinking about you." He murmured between kisses "I tried not to but -" he bit your lowers lip, then soothed it with his tongue. "But I want to."

It wasnt long until he had you pressed up against the door of some random bedroom - your thighs wrapped around his waist and his body flush against yours.

His hands were everywhere - in your hair, against the back of your neck, then slipping beneath the fabric of your shorts, touching and caressing every inch of exposed skin he could find. He groaned against your mouth, the sound desperate and needy, his hips rocking into you.

You tip your head back with a soft whine, your fingers splayed across his shoulders to keep you steady. Heeseung groaned at the sound, his hips jerking forward as his movements grew a little desperate. One hand slid up to tug at your shirt. “Can I-” he started, his voice raspy then trailing off.

"Please."

He quickly rids you of the material, lip snug between his teeth before practically throwing you on the bed. His body blankets yours in an instant. He takes a moment to look at you in the mess of someone else's bed.

"So fucking pretty." He grasps your chin, cooing at you.

You whimper, hands reaching up to eagerly tug at his hoodie strings. "Let me see you..."

He groaned, sitting up to let you help him pull his hoodie off. No shirt underneath. Surprising. "Your turn."

"My shirt is off."

"I wasn't talking about your shirt." He leans down to kiss you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He shifts, snaking his hand teasingly down your stomach to unbutton your shorts. Once unbuttoned, he dips his hand under the waistband as his lips leave yours with a smug grin. "Can I?"

You nod fervently, canting your hips up in an invitation. He obliges, wasting no time in peeling them off, then pauses for a second, looking at the lacy underwear you had on. His favourite colour. "You couldn't possibly have worn those for anyone but me."

"Only you." You breathed out, shifting your thighs to hide the obvious wet patch in the middle of the beige material. He was affecting you more than you would like to admit... but thats what he wanted.

"Don't." He lets out a disapproving tut, pining your thighs apart at the knees. "I wanna see them before I ruin them."

His head dips down, placing a wet kiss on the lace. You bite your lip, practically clenching around nothing - and you were sure he had noticed.

"I could just leave you here." His tongue runs along the fabric, pressing against you in just the right way. You whined, thighs twitching softly. "with these soaked panties of yours."

"No! Don't, please." You shake your head desperately. This was humiliating - you weren't one to beg. Usually.

He chuckled, the vibrations doing wonders on your sensitive core. He pressed another kiss, this one lingering and purposeful. He hums, gently pushing your legs together and watching the soaked fabric bunch between your folds. "Are you gonna be a good girl for me?"

"Yes."

"Good." He pushes your sticky lace to the side. He didn't wanna take them off - he wanted to eat your pussy whilst you wore his favourite shade of beige. He didn't waste any time either, leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss against your clit. His tongue runs in a lazy circle, slow and sensual.

You gasp, almost a sigh of relief as you feel the heat pool in the bottom of your stomach. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling ever so gently.

He hums against you. He's always been weak for a firm hand in his hair, and he definitely didn't mind you using that against him right now. And then in one fluid movement, he's wrapping his arms around your thighs, pulling your legs over his shoulders and holding you in place.

He groaned against flesh, the sound sending little sparks up through your spine. He continued to kiss your sweet little cunt, lapping and slurping at your clit like it was his favourite meal, fingers pressing into your thighs so hard you were sure you would see remnants of his fingerprint in the morning.

You moan louder, causing him to cover your mouth gently. A warning. You were both aware of the party still going on downstairs - and whilst the music was loud enough to cover you both, if someone got close enough they would definitely hear you.

His grip on your thighs tightens, blunt nails digging crescents into the back of your knees. Your thighs are clenching around his face, desperate for more - possibly something a bit bigger. He sucks your folds into his mouth, swirling his tongue around before pulling off with an obscene ‘pop’.

You were an absolute mess, moaning and breathing heavily against the palm of his hand. You were trying your very best to stay quiet, but he was making it so difficult. But you were making it difficult for him too.

He moves his palm away from your mouth, just to shove two fingers in instead. "Suck."

You moan around them, sucking on the digits instinctively, your tongue swirling and coating them in strings of saliva. He could feel your walls clench around nothing, and he can’t help but be a tease. "That should keep you quiet."

He purses his lips, watching a glob of spit fall from his mouth and slide down between your folds. He bites his lip, a low grumble emerging from the back of his throat. And then he’s burying his face in you again, pressing his tongue flat against your clit and taking it into his mouth, flicking the tip of his tongue over the sensitive spot relentlessly.

You feel the heat swirling in your belly, a pool of sweet pressure that feels so good, but not quite enough to push you over the edge. You clench your thighs around his head, arching your back desperately. A frustrated whine tumbles from your lips, muffled by his fingers. "Please-"

Your thighs are shaking, tears have spilled over your cheeks, but he’s still going. He could probably make you cum untouched like this - maybe he should, just to make you even more of a mess. But he's feeling kind.

He pulls off, giving you that insufferable smirk over glistening lips. He pulls his fingers from your lips and drags a finger through your folds, gathering your slick on the digit before plunging it past your entrance.

"Look at you, making a mess all over my fingers" he coos, pushing a second one in and watching it disappear with ease. You're clenching around his digits so desperately, and it makes him wonder if this is just a product of all those weeks of denied tension, or if you would have always been this desperate for him. "Such a whore..."

He curls his fingers in a way that has your toes curling, a strangled moan leaving your lips. Heeseung is past caring who hears you now. In fact, he hopes someone hears you.

"There you go- taking me so well" he coos once again. "Just like I knew you would." He pushes another finger in, rocking them with a torturous pace. His tongue finds your clit again, rolling over it gently to bring out more moans from your mouth.

"M'gonna cum seungie." You mewl, clenching desperately.

But he laughs - a cruel laugh. He pulls his head up, retracting his fingers and leaving your desperate folds empty. "No you're not." He says in mock sympathy, watching your eyes widen in protest.

"No! I was so close!" You sob out a whine. You were absolutely ruined - yet you knew this was nothing compared to what was coming next.

He stands up, undoing the button of his pants. They drop to the floor, and he’s left standing in nothing but a pair of black boxers - the same black boxers he was wearing the morning you met. You could tell from the distinctive waistband that was peeking out of his sweats as he greeted you.

Looks like you weren't the only one with purpose in your underwear choice. Maybe it's because deep down you both knew you would have ended up in this situation by the end of the night.

He pushes his boxers down, finally letting himself spring free. He's hard, leaking and clearly grown tired of waiting. Your stomach churned at the mere size of him. He reaches into his jeans pocket, pulling out a shiny gold wrapper.

"Prepared, were you?" You pant.

He rolls the condom over himself before throwing the wrapper in the bin. He grabs your thighs and hooks them over his hip - lining himself up with your eager entrance. "You're not gonna cum until I say you can. Understood?"

"Y-Yes" you choke out, already feeling him teasing your entrance and making your stomach pool. "Yes, sir."

Sir. He liked the sound of that. He clutches your hips, forcing you onto your stomach before guiding himself into you. You feel the stretch - not too much after the preparation, but it was more than enough to make you whine. He reaches forward, his fingers gently curling around your neck.

"Look at you taking me so well…” He hums softly, letting out a strained groan as he bottoms out. You clench around him, unable to hold back the breathy moans that escape your swollen lips.

He pauses, breathing harshly and grounding himself a little. Then he’s snapping his hips forward, driving himself so deep you swear you can taste him in the back of your throat. You gasp, your hands flying up to grasp at the sheets beneath you. He’s not gentle anymore, now grabbing your hips and shoving his cock into you like it’s all your good for.

"Fuck!" A moan rips from your chest. You could feel every inch of him; every vein as he filled you in deliciously.

"You like that, huh?" he grunts. He smacks your butt, making you jolt. "You like taking my cock like a good girl?"

"Yes sir

" You moan, managing to muster up a few words.

His grip of your throat tightens a fraction, making your back arch. It's not hard enough to hurt, but enough to feel a little light headed. Your stomach coils. "M'so close."

His hands move to the back of your thighs, shoving one up so your knee is pressed up towards your chest. "Not yet."

The new angle has him brushing against your sweet spot, hitting even deeper than you thought was possible. You were absolutely sure he had teared through your cervix at this point.

Heeseung was far from quiet now too, his grunts turning into deep moans. You turn over your shoulder. He looks wrecked; his hair sticking to his forehead and his head thrown back. If you weren't in the position you were in, you would have taken this time to admire him.

Your eyes rake over his body - the way his thighs tense, the beads of sweat rolling down his collarbone. You’re drunk on it - him, like his touch has turned you into an addict.

"You're so fucking pretty" He pulls you up by your throat, pressing his chest against your back as he kisses you desperately. You reach forward, using the headboard as leverage to push your hips back against his.

"That's it, princess" he groans, his voice almost wavering. "Just like that."

He almost stills his hips, letting you take charge as you forcefully shove yourself down on his length. Your movement is sloppy and messy, but he doesn't mind - can't mind, not when you feel this heavenly around him.

He moans, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek with such gentleness that it could have come from a different person if you didn’t know better. "My pretty girl, mmh?”

Your thighs shake as you try so hard not to cum; waiting for his signal like you promised you would. "Please... let me cum."

He debated denying you just once more, but his orgasm was approaching faster than he would have liked to admit. "Cum for me... make a mess of me baby."

And you didnt need to be told twice. You threw your head back against his shoulders as you shoved yourself down on him once more before finishing on his cock. You moan loudly, white-hot pleasure completely taking over you as he grasp the headboard to ground yourself. And like a chain reaction, Heeseung pulled you closer and moans lowly as he finishes too, filling up the condom.

"Holy shit." You whine as he pulls out, watching as your juices run onto the bedsheet below. You felt bad - for ruining someone else's bedsheets... but you didn't have the energy to care much.

"That was amazing." He sighs, kissing your cheek before gently manoeuvring you to lay down on the bed before lying next to you. He wrapped his arm protectively around you, kissing your forehead.

"Hopefully you're not gonna ghost me until I have to confront you. Again." You huff.

"Not a chance."

✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　. ✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　. ✦　.　　. 　 ˚

taglist: @taeghi @hollyoongs @jaehoonii @prettygurlnikittie @kittympirty @hoonprksung @starggukies

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@ hvseung, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway. thankyou :)

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#enhypen #kpop #fanfic #fanfiction #enha #lee heeseung #lee heeseung smut #smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop bg

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81evermore · 15 days ago

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a bridesmaid's to do list, kim mingyu [teaser]

When your best friend Jihyo is getting married, you're nothing less than thrilled. Your excitement dies a little when you find out that your ex will be attending. Luckily, your friends have already found a solution!

🎵the only exception, paramore 🎵 you are in love, taylor swift 🎵margaret, lana del rey 🎵daylight, taylor swift

pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader cw: alcohol consumption, strong language tags: (kind of)strangers to lovers, fake dating, fluff, a little bit of angst, he fell first and harder (yuppp), wedding au

You’re currently sitting on your couch, 3 wine glasses in. You lay your head on Seulgi’s shoulder, since she’s the only one sitting next to you. The girl’s talking to Seungkwan, who’s sitting on the floor in front of her. You can hear Vernon, Sana and Mingyu talking in the kitchen, probably pouring themselves more wine – you really can’t blame them. To be honest, you don’t even know what’s the occasion for this gathering, or where the rest of your friends went, but you’re way too busy sipping on your fourth glass of wine. The group that was in the kitchen walks back to the living room, and you’re making eye contact with Mingyu almost immediately.

It’s not like you and Mingyu are friends. Of course, you know him – he's Vernon’s best friend after all, you’ve met him a handful of times. Neither of you interacted with each other much, except for group hangouts like this. You didn’t really know that much about Mingyu. You knew that he runs his own restaurant, which you had been to with Vernon multiple times. You knew that he has a cat, since Vernon took care of it when Mingyu was on vacation. To be completely honest – that might be all of your knowledge when it comes to Kim Mingyu. It does kind of make you jealous – seeing how effortlessly he strikes up a conversation with everyone in the room. Why does he never talk to you?

You must have had a grimace on your face, because Seungkwan looked at you concerned. “Are you okay? You’re sulking” he nudged your calf with his foot. “What’s got you so worried?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just thinking about Jihyo’s and Joshua’s wedding” you didn’t completely lie – you were thinking about it, until Mingyu walked into the room.

“Right, Jaehyun” Sana said in a cold voice.

No one noticed, but Mingyu visibly perked up at the mention of your ex – if he’d been sober, then he would have tried to be much less obvious about it. Mingyu knew about Jaehyun and his actions, since Vernon had come to him numerous times, hoping that he would give him some advice on how to free you from the monster’s hands – Vernon's words, not his.

“I just don’t want to see him at all. Also, I’m sure that he will try and talk to me. I’ve had to block his number four times, because he kept messaging me from new ones” you frowned, drinking all the wine left in your glass at once.

“God, I don’t even have words to describe that filthy fucking-” you stopped Seulgi from continuing by placing your hand on her mouth.

“Wait! I think I have a good idea!” Seungkwan exclaimed. “How about you and Vernon go to the wedding together and pretend to be a couple? Maybe he’ll leave you alone, since he was so insecure because of him?” he rolled his eyes while the last sentence left his mouth.

“Aren’t we too old to do that? Besides, he would think that he was right. You know, accusing me of cheating on him with Vernon”

“Why don’t you take Mingyu instead? He can be scary sometimes!” Vernon exclaimed, definitely proud of his idea.

“I don’t know about that second thing” you snorted, making the rest of your friends laugh.

“Hey! I can be scary if I want to! I’m tall and probably more handsome than Jaehyun! I can do it!” Mingyu pouted, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Sure, buddy” Seulgi patted his shoulder.

“Guys, don’t laugh at me! Y/N, I can do it! Seriously! I’ll be the best scary fake boyfriend on planet earth! He won’t even dare to look at you!”

“Why do you want to do it so bad anyways?” you asked the man, visibly confused.

“Because I really want to prove you guys wrong, and all of you will be there. I’m the only one that didn’t get an invite, and I get that it’s because I don’t even know Jihyo and Joshua that well, but I would be very sad if all of you were having fun and I was sitting at home. And obviously, I want to help you, Y/N” Mingyu said with a pout on his face, and after not receiving a response from anyone, he added “Well, also because I really love weddings”

You could feel everyone’s eyes at you, curious about how you’ll respond to Mingyu.

“Okay, let’s do it” you sighed. As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt muscular arms wrapping you in a hug and lifting you up from the couch.

“YES! You won’t regret this, Y/N!” Mingyu shrieked, spinning you around.

The next two months will definitely be hard.

an: ahhhh i'm so excited for this!! hope that u guys enjoyed this little teaser, the whole thing is currently in the works, hopefully it won't take too long <3 comment if u want to be added to the taglist, reblogs and comments will make me very very happy!!!

#kim mingyu #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x you #kim mingyu x y/n #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fanfic #kpop x reader #fake dating #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x you

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deesblanketfort · 2 months ago

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Silly regression things! ☆´ˎ˗︶︶︶

🍇: Blowing raspberries all the time, at anything and anyone

🖍️: Inventing new words, both for things that already have a name and things that don't

🧦: Inventing a new way to walk everytime you have to go somewhere

👾: Talking back at cartoon characters like they could hear you

🧸: Actually, talking to anything inanimate like they could hear you: Hello sun! Hi desk, how's your day going? Good morning pillow :D

🐾: Barking at dogs, meowing back to cats, chirping along the birds, after all you can engage in conversation with anyone regardless of species!

🎵: Inventing silly songs for any occasion! Like you're the lead of a musical!

🎀: Wearing clothes backwards or in a way they're not supposed to be worn (like wearing a hoodie as a cape)

☔: Jumping on puddles! Splashing water on yourself and/or others at any opportunity

🍬: Trying your best to make everyone laugh :)

🌞: Being generally happy go lucky and carefree, just the tiniest bundle of joy you could've ever imagined

#sfw agere #agere sfw #agere blog #sfw agere blog #age regressor #age regression #sfw regression #sfw regressor #agere #sfw age regressor #sfw age regression #agere textpost #agere positivity #blankiefort ★´ˎ˗#kitty rambles ★´ˎ˗

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sturnmeovr · 5 months ago

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♡‧₊˚ Babydaddy!Chris x Sweetheart!Reader - Delusional

Part Two

🎵 Spread Thin - Mariah the Scientist

The warm morning sun peered thru the bedroom curtains; you blink a few times in an attempt to adjust your eyes to the bright light. Knowing Chris usually sleeps in late with you, you roll to his side to fling an arm around him, only to realize he had already woken up and got out of bed. A small groan leaves your lips, not getting your morning cuddle session in with your babydaddy gave you a bad start to your day. Your son was already doing somersaults and backflips in your womb, letting you know he was awake and as active as he could be.

The cold hardwood floor sends shivers up your spine, your sleepy daze fogging your brain as you make your way out of the bedroom and down the hallway. You could see Chris lazily slumped across the couch with his back facing you, one hand stuffed in a bag of chips while the other held his phone. Being the sweet – yet naive – girl you were, you saw it as the perfect opportunity to pull a cute little jump scare prank on your boyfriend. You watch him like a hawk as his thumb dances across his phone screen, making sure you’re light on your feet as you tiptoe toward him.

Just as you’re about to close in on him like a lion with its prey, his phone chimes, indicating a text was sent. Your eyebrows crunch in confusion as he sits up, freeing his other hand to type a quick reply. Uncertainty buries itself deep in your gut and your intuition makes you take a few steps forward to get a clearer view at who Chris was texting.

You had no idea how you were pulling off being so quiet. You were nearly in your third trimester; pregnancy obviously came with weight gain, so you weren’t exactly light on your feet to say the least. Clumsiness was blessed upon you at a young age and your baby bump didn’t do you much justice these days. All you knew was – you were bound and determined to see who the hell your babydaddy was texting. No matter how hard you squinted, you couldn’t make out the name. A little voice in the back of your head kept telling you to take a step closer, finally being able to focus on the name written at the top of the screen, when the realization bestows itself upon you; he wasn’t texting anyone familiar. Before you found out you were pregnant, there were a few incidents where other females had slid in your direct messages on Instagram, coming to you as a ‘woman’ about your boyfriend's shitty behavior. Granted, he had been on his best behavior the last seven months – or so you thought.

Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach as you watch him sneakily type a reply into his phone, letting out an uneasy breath. It must’ve been a bit too loud because Chris lifts his head, turning around to face you. His mouth gapes open, astonishment spreads across his face as he realizes he’s caught in the act of texting another bitch that wasn’t the mother of his unborn. Chris stumbles on his words, “Hey — Hey, Babe?” his cheeks rosy red as he chews on his bottom lip out of nervousness.

“Who are you texting?” you ask, trying to be as nonchalant as possible while a frown pulls at your lips, a mixture of embarrassment and sadness hitting you like a bus. The look on Chris’ face gave you all of the confirmation you needed, there was no doubt he was texting another girl, nothing could convince you otherwise. You watch as he jumps up from his seat, pressing the lock button on his phone in a rush and stuffing it into his pants pocket. You position all your weight on your left side while rubbing a hand over your bump, sucking your teeth as if you were rushing an answer out of him, “nobody just someone asking for a collab. I’d have to talk to Matt and Nick about it first,” he stumbles over his own words, making it nearly impossible to believe the bullshit excuse he made up off the top of his head. It had always been clear he was a horrible liar, but this was an all-time low for him.

You furrow your brows together, letting him know you called bullshit before opening your mouth to speak, “yeah — and who was that?” The last year and a half you had been with Chris, you became accustomed to his sneaky ways. A lot of the time you felt like you were playing detective, constantly poking and prodding him with questions just to get the truth out of him. You watch him shake his head, “nobody important — probably won’t end up going thru with it anyways,” his eyes not meeting yours one time.

“Let me see,” you tell him, holding out your hand like an angry mother who was confiscating her middle schoolers phone. Chris’ face crunches in confusion, his brows knitting together much like yours were, “why?”

Going thru his phone was something you had only done a few times before and each it led to uncovered lies, days of crying, and treacherous heartbreak. You had been in this situation before, his reluctance to hand over his phone gave you all the confirmation, not that you didn’t have it already. If it was the other way around, he wouldn’t even have to ask to go thru your phone. Your password was your due date which he knew very well. Your heart thumps in your chest and you try to muster up a response, an argument was the last thing your emotions could handle but you knew deep down it needed to be addressed. You didn’t deserve this. You shrug your shoulders at him, “I’m not dumb Chris,” tears brim the waterlines of your eyes as you let out a staggered breath.

Chris stares at you from across the couch, not knowing if he should run to comfort you or stay frozen in his place, continuing to play dumb like he did last time he was caught red handed. He immediately regrets the next sentence that falls from his mouth, “Sweetheart, you’re being delusional,” his phone vibrates in his pocket, sounding off another notification alert. Your eyes drifting down to his pocket and back up to him, “I’m not texting any bitches — honest!” he lies thru his teeth, not daring to make eye contact with you.

“Chris, I’m due in twelve weeks” your voice thick with emotion as you blink back the tears fighting to be set free, “you think now is the right time to lie to me?” You don’t let him get out another word before you spin on your heels and march to his bedroom. His footsteps echo off the hardwood floor, letting you know he was quickly in tow behind you, “baby – wait!’ you hear him call after you before slamming the bedroom door, making sure to lock it behind you. Chris stands on the other side, his face pressed against the door as he knocks repetitively, trying desperately to plead his case as you shove random clothes into a duffel bag, "sweetheart — c'mon, please open the door," you ignore him, alternating between ordering an uber and texting your best friend to let her know you’d be staying at her house for a while. You weren’t letting Chris talk his way out of the trouble he caused this time — he had no excuses.

wc - 1262

♡‧₊˚ I put out a poll the other day asking if you guys wanted this or Brat and Neighbor!Matt's first interaction. They results were pretty close, but the angst won lol. I didn't want it to be too angsty because there's more to come, obviously. My heart aches for sweetheart but I'm glad she's standing her ground. Let me know what you guys think?!

Tags - @lvrsturniolo @ribread03 @strnsvhx @m11rx @sweetshuga @loveparqdise @frickin-bats @katie-tibo @leila-marie4 @delusional-4-fake-people @shadowthesim @immy08 @trevorsgodmother @watercolorskyy @thepubeburgler @courta13 @luvr4miya @chrislilcumslvt @strnilolover @sagesturns @slut4chris888 @watermelonstarzz @purpledragon222 @reidshearts @sophand4n4 @mattssslutbby @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturnslutz @sturniolo101 @sturniolos-manslut19 @stvrniolostan

Babydaddy!Chris Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist (comment to be added)

Requests/Asks are always open - send me asks about Babydaddy!Chris x Sweetheart!Reader & Neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader

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happysparklingshadows · 3 months ago

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A Certain Hunger (6/?)

Chapter 5 ✿ Chapter 7

Summary: Passion and fear go hand in hand. You find yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place; you might as well enjoy yourself while you're here. Playing games and playing with fingers distract you from the looming dread that everyone and everything is falling apart. Your adult self is slipping back into old habits and fears, rediscovering how she used to listen through the trees.

Pairing: Surviving!Poly! Yellowjackets x reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Smut (18+), Angst, loss of virginity, the reader has sex against a tree after her weird trippy episode in the last chapter, Natalie finally puts the moves on the reader, Lowkey period sex but its chill, Natalie is a messy toxic 90s bisexual who is still figuring it out, Mentions of menstrual cycle, Mentions of stalking, the 90s setting with the views of the time, internalized homophobia, Mentions of body and body weight, the occult, and possession.

Word count: 18k (the longest so far and I am sorry if that is a turn off!)

Notes: Happy Season 3 premiere!! The title of the French chapter, "Friends on the Other Side," is for anyone who is wondering! All French will have translations at the bottom of the chapter. Happy to use my one year of college French for good use! I also have put this series on wattpad and Ao3, and made a playlist for this story if you wanted to check it out.

❀ A03 ❀ wattpad ❀ spotify playlist ❀

‘96

🎵 This is how we do it 🎵

“One, two, one, two, three, four!” Mari yells out with her fingers matching her words over the music. Everyone around you starts to jump and dance to the music, appreciating the little music you have heard in the last few months.

🎵 This is how we do it 🎵

“Running Man, Running Man!” You all say as you wave your hands above your head to dance to the song from the MTV video.

“Bart Simpson, Bart Simpson!” You stepped back as some of the girls stepped forward, smiles and giggles dancing around the air as you joyfully sang to Montell Jordan. You barely even notice the pinch in your neck as you giggle. Your eyes met with Misty, who meekly stood in the doorway and swayed to the music, too scared to join in but watched on. You all step back to the wall, bump into Laura Lee, and giggle, grabbing her hand that was reaching for yours with a shared laugh.

“And Javi! Javi!” Mari giggles as she pulls the thirteen-year-old into the center to dance for everyone. You whistled to him with the others, encouraging him to dance. Seeing the shy kid come out of his shell a bit was sweet. This is the most you have seen him interact with the group, and it made your smile grow on your cheeks.

“Designated driver, take the keys to my truck.” All of you sing and whip your hands outstretched in front of yourselves, like you were driving a car. “Hit the shore ‘cause I’m faded.” you all continued as you ran a hand over your eyes to cover them, turning to someone side yourselves. “Honey’s in the street say, “Monty, yo, we made it.”

You gave up singing along as everyone took to their own rhythm and moved their bodies freely, your arms flailing above your head as you swayed your hips around. “It feels so good in my hood tonight. The summertime skirts and the guys in kani, All the gang bangers forgot about the drive-by-”

The music weakly tries to continue but dies pathetically in the middle of the song. Everyone stilled in disappointment as Van walked to the walkman with a grumbled damn it.

The room filled with panting of the girls, yours being one of them, as you felt your chest heave, breathe in like a suffocating person, “What happened?” Jackie asked Van from beside you.

“I don’t know,” Van grumbles again, frustrated about the death of her beloved Walkman as she slaps the box. “Oh, no. Has hitting something ever fixed it?”

“M-Maybe try blowing on it?” Mari says, coming closer to the girls and circling the box.

Creak. Creaaakk.

“The fuck is that?” Mari asks the group.

“Hey, you heard it too?” Lottie asks the group quietly as she looks around the room,

“It was probably just a branch.” Taissa reasoned, unimpressed, with her hands on her hips, stoic as ever.

“Inside, on the floor?” Mari asked her with wide eyes. She was floored by any explanation other than a ghost. “What if it’s... him?”

“What, the dead guy?” Shauna asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Um, yeah,” Mari grumbled.

“You know what it probably was? The dead guy’s missing fingers trying to crawl their way home.” Natalie smirked as she spoke, trying to scare everyone mischievously. Akilah slaps Natalie’s chest at the joke. Everyone jeers on at Natalie and some tell her to shut up for even joking. You laughed at her joke even though you shouldn’t, you couldn’t help it.

“You really have to encourage them?” Taissa sighs.

“You got to admit, it didn’t sound like it was on the roof.” Akilah says to Taissa with a worried wrinkle on her brow.

Jackie reasoned, “Fine, then it was a rat, or a raccoon, or something. I don’t know, it-.”

“Shh!” Lottie interrupted, looking up to the ceiling, trying to listen in on whatever was up in the attic.

“Oh my god.” Taissa completely deflates her arms and turns to her makeshift bed shoved into the corner

“Shh. Listen, " Lottie says, focusing on what she hears.

You all wait for something to happen, but nothing does.

“Well, I don’t hear it now.” Mari broke the silence.

“See?’ Taissa jeered with a smirk, she laid her blanket on the ground.

“Alright. Alright. You know what I think it was? I think the ghost decided it was time to get some sleep. And we should probably do the same, yeah?” Coach Ben reasons.

Everyone whined and booed at Coach Ben, but everyone started to lay out their beds on the floor. Some were whispering in the corner of the room like Misty and Krystal about the ghost upstairs, but the cabin's ground floor came to a lull and was peacefu when everyone fell asleep.

You lay down, sandwiched between Jackie and Shauna, staring up at the ceiling.

Your period was heavy this month for some reason. Your cycle has been all messed up since the crash, and it was beginning to become normal again. Your first month in the woods, you were so anxious for when your period would start, only for it never to come as the others all started around you. You and Shauna both snickered at the blessing of not having your periods before getting rescued. The next one was surprisingly light and quick, only lasting three days, it was a dark pink and watery red spotting, but as you lay in your makeshift bed, you were on the fifth day of heavy, deep red. It was your first real period in the woods, and your body made sure you paid the price for having some peace in your womb by giving you extremely painful cramps and nausea that would sneak up on you in the hot August sun. You used 6 of the makeshift pads yesterday and felt embarrassed, especially because you had to make a new one almost every time you needed a new one. The makeshift pads were made from shirts and stuffing from one of Travis’s orange puffer jackets, which he packed and offered up instead of Laura Lee’s bear. When everyone was having a discussion, and the girls talked about how they were going to make the pads, everyone looked over to the brown bear lying on Laura’s blanket. Travis offered his coat, saying his mom made him pack the stupid coat that he never wore and might be best used for stuffing our pads. It shocked you. You didn’t realize he had the ability to have empath after all his assholey comments, but it was making you see the guy in a better light slowly. But after he offered it, he demanded never to be informed about our periods again and stormed out of the cabin while Ben chuckled and Javi was mortified. Thankfully, it seemed to mellow out within the last day, and you were hoping your period would completely calm down before tomorrow.

The cabin's ceiling had dust stains and caked-on cobwebs that had been built upon themselves for years stare back down at your tiredness. Your legs twitched under your blanket, you felt your heart pounding in your chest somehow. Your mind was numb and thoughtless as you felt the fuzzy fabric of your mother's handmade blanket caress your legs. The hours went by with no sleep in sight for you. You sat up quietly and looked around at the others to see if anyone was still awake. You couldn’t find anyone as you tried to stand up without a sound, you crept to the door and to the pile of shoes everyone had left. You slipped on your shoes and hugged your blanket around your shoulders.

You open the door a little to sliver so it won’t groan, and so you won’t wake the others. After you slip through the crack, you close it behind you. The cold summer air hits you first as you start walking aimlessly.

It was dangerous. It was dark, and you got confused last time.

At least, that's what you like to believe and what others think as well. They believed you were dehydrated and got confused, and they decided it was no longer okay for you to go out on your own because they believed that your weight loss could be the main reason. You wanted to fight back against them, but you were two sizes smaller than before the crash almost four months ago, and it concerned Jackie and Shauna the most. But, something within you couldn’t fully believe it was just because of you. You are the smartest student at your school, scored the highest on the ACT, and were supposed to go to NYU in September. And somehow, the others look to you for guidance in the wilderness like a leader. You knew you were of sound mind, and you wouldn’t have imagined a tree creature watching you, or not noticing a significant amount of hours passing. It was something else.

You didn’t want to think about the tree woman again, you didn’t want to think that day even happened. You made sure to skip that day in your journal. As you have for most days after that scary one, except to log your period and take notes of the food everyone got in the day. You felt depressed as your period came with an almost bored feeling lording over your head all day.

You continue to walk on, you decide to turn left at the fork in the path towards the poop bucket cliff, and you hear the tree whistle beside you. It was calming you down. You didn’t feel the fear of the forest anymore because you hadn’t seen the creature yet, and you hadn’t felt the energy that you had that day either since.

It became your escape once again. Away from the others momentarily and to feel your feelings away from your friends' prying eyes. You loved your friends, the first- and second-year students, and their coach over the time you have been out here, but they can be overwhelming with their questions and concerns. You knew they couldn’t help that they didn’t have wilderness survival drilled into their heads since they were kids, and they couldn’t help being nervous about the things they didn’t understand. But you wanted to sometimes scream at their immaturity and recklessness.

The chill in the air woke you up as you came closer to the bluff cliff of the mountain, and looked up to the sky. You look down at your feet anxiously, thinking you might fall over even though you stood 6 feet away from the drop-off, and you sit down on a smooth rock you had become fond of when you had poop duty. The rock was at the base of a tree and was big enough to be a seat.

You look up at the clear night sky, littered with stars and a full moon lighting up the night. You take a deep breath of the clean, crisp air, a breeze from the top of the mountain. You can hear the whole forest where you sit, and it makes you feel so peaceful and safe. The water from the lake, the feet of small animals crawling up the trees, the berries and leaves dancing in the bushes, and the branches breathing beside you.

You couldn’t help but grasp the fuzzy blanket closer as the thought of your mom came to mind. Your lip pursed, but no tears came to your eyes. “I hope Mom is looking at this moon. She would love how bright it is, " you thought as you relaxed more on the cold rock. “Dad would love the view… Dad would be proud of me, I think. I have gone good so far.”

A smile came to your lips as you knew what you thought was right. You have done well as a group so far, and it was all thanks to your father. You knew that you would be thanking him so much if you were saved.

If you were saved.

It grossed you out to even think about the possibility you all wouldn’t be found in time. The cold breezes of the summer make you think of the colder and harsher months ahead when food will become rare. What if you all starve to death, get the flu and die from lack of vitamins, or fall asleep without a fire in the fireplace on accident? You had to push those thoughts to the back of your mind for later days, as for now, you try to relax on your rock. Hoping that maybe tonight was the night a plane or helicopter would fly by.

You look up to the clear sky at the stars that shine for what seems like only for you. The moon was almost half the sky from your angle on the mountain. It was like looking at the proof of a god because nothing could just be that beautiful and serene.

Snap!

You turn your head to the side and see Taissa standing there with a blank expression, which startles you.

“Oh! Taiss-”

“Find her,” Taissa rasped, her eyes staring past yours. Her voice didn’t seem like her own as she stepped closer. Under the moonlight, her eyes almost looked red.

“What?” You asked as you stood up from the rock, a little scared at how quickly she approached you.

“Find her,” she repeated as a smile started to curl on the corners of her lips

“Taissa? What are you saying? Why are you here?” You sternly said as you stepped back out of confusion, why was she here? How did she know you were here?

“Uh—” Taissa blinks, and slowly, her face becomes hers again. She rubs her eyes. “I don’t—sorry, I am half asleep. I saw you weren’t in the cabin and got worried.”

“Oh—” you say as you look over her in concern. It doesn’t make sense why she would know you were here. “Oh, okay! It’s okay! I couldn’t sleep.”

“Sorry, I don’t know. I fell asleep while I was looking for you! That was crazy!” Taissa chuckled, pulling her hand out to lead you back to the cabin. “Let’s go back to bed. It’s cold out here,” she added. There was dirt caked underneath her fingernails and her cuticles, it made you pause before you took her hand. But you took it so as not to cause a scene, just wanting to leave the situation and get back to your bed.

“Okay, let’s go to bed. I’m exhausted,” you sigh as you look at Taissa. You can’t help but ask, “How did you know I was here?”

“I hear you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t know. I heard you breathing,” Taissa said as she looked down at her shoes, not even knowing her answer and how she knew you were there.

You didn’t notice the symbol carved on the back of the tree, on the opposite side of where you were leaning your back, dripped sap onto the ground as you walked past it.

You woke up later than normal today as the sunlight shined right into your eyes. The others must have given you a break. You give yourself a moment of peace as you stare at the ceiling. Your body felt achy and unwell, your inner thighs sticky and wet with sweat, and you softly became aware of the dull pain coming from deep in your stomach. When you finally pulled yourself from the ground and stood up, you noticed the only other person still lying down was Jackie. People would have tried to wake her up, but she had lied back down. “Lazy Jackie,” you think to yourself as you loom over Jackie’s lying body on the ground. You couldn’t help but chuckle, softly lift your leg, and shake her shoulder with your foot.

“Jackie.” You say to her like a lure, only to have Jackie groan in response and not move. “Come on, wake up.”

Jackie cuddles her blanket to her shoulders and groans, “I’m so cold.”

You look down at her with an unimpressed purse of your lips, and she rolls onto her back with a grimace of pain, “I have cramps.”

“No, duh, Jackie. We’re all cramping; we’re all synced up, and Mari has Endo, so you don’t have any excuses, princess.” You say as you kick her shoulder again, and she groans loudly again. But she reluctantly sits up as you watch her. She yawns. You pat her shoulder and smile, “Shouldn’t be too much work today, just keeping up.”

You and Jackie get dressed for the day, and she comments on how the two of you should match, to which you agree wholeheartedly. Jackie and you were as close as you used to be in the wilderness. Jackie would always find her way back to you in the forest fishing to sit and talk.

Despite the circumstances, you were so relieved to know Jackie still sees you as her sandbox friend as you did, and even more so now than ever have the two of you relied on each other with Shauna.

Your overpacking for the trip was such a blessing in disguise, and your body insecurity, making you have many changes of clothes, benefited you by having almost a new pair of clothes every day. But it always bit you in the ass when it was your time to do laundry, and you had to carry all your weight clothes on an incline—multiple times.

“Hey, do you want to wear your blue shirt? Match with me?” Jackie says as she starts to button up her blue and white-striped button-up. She looks at the blue shirt you wore yesterday, lying on top of your luggage or, lately, your dresser, and then over to you as you pull your pajamas over your head.

“I can’t. It’s dirty. I only have my butterfly shirt and my cardigan clean, " you replied, shaking your head softly. Then, you pulled your shorts off your legs.

“Why are you wearing a cardigan? It’s like 100 degrees outside.” Jackie snickered as she struggled with a button, looking at you humorously.

You felt a small wave of insecurity come over you. You had a habit of wearing long sleeves to hide your arms. You didn’t like the idea that someone could see your chubby arm jiggle when you simply grabbed something, but you were sweating like a pig because it was 100 degrees outside. “I don’t like my arms, " you answered your best friend as you looked at your feet for a second out of embarrassment. You continue to pull up your jean shorts from your ankles as you wrap the belt around your waist.

Jackie didn’t say anything for a moment as she looked you over softly with her buggy brown eyes, and she always hated when you put yourself down for being fat but she wasn’t going to disagree when it was about your feelings about your body. She was always mindful about that.

“I don’t see why you have to overheat; you have limps on the side of your body like everyone else. But the sweater is cute, so I will let off easy this one time for not matching with me this one time, okay.”

You just shake your head jokingly and narrow your eyes, “Other people have arms too?”

She rolls her eyes at you as she finally finishes her shirt. “Oh, haha. You know what I was trying to say.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You giggle as you nudge Jackie’s shoulder, and she returns the giggle with you as you both leave the cabin.

You were stopped by Alilah making a makeshift pad. She sits infront of the fire with the hunting knife in her hands, two of your big pots hang from their hooks on the fireplace crane.

“Hey!” Alilah says with a smile sent both of your ways, pointing the knife to the two pots, one an orangeish brown and the other a deep red, “Bloody Soldiers on the left and breakfast on the right, okay! Don’t mess them up, like Travis did.” Aliliah finished by turning her head to the boy behind her eating his breakfast.

“Okay, you guys are disgusting. I’m-” Travis cringed, getting up from his tree trunk.

“Shut up,” Aliliah replied softly with a chuckling shake of her head.

“Yeah, shut up, dork. You’re the one who wanted to eat the red one, " you say to Travis with a soft eye roll. You were growing to not hate the guy, but he somehow still got on your nerves.

“Whatever.” Travis says as he storms off to the cabin, passing by you. You felt the wind swirl from his movements away from your standing body.

You smile at Alilah and the other girls; Mari stops Jackie beside you, thrusting a bucket in her hands. “How about getting some more water? Breakfast isn’t going anywhere.”

Jackie stood stunned by Mari and looked on with an open mouth. She looked over to you for an answer. You felt satisfied that Jackie had finally been called out for not helping out, but you didn’t like the feeling of her sad brown eyes looking at you.

“Okay, a little bitchy Mari, but yeah, Jackie, go get some water and your morning walk in.” You say it with a smile, sending Mari a sharp look but a smile to Jackie. “You can help Laura Lee with laundry today and get your feet in the water.” You offered Jackie with a soft voice to lure her into trying it out.

“Okay,” Jackie grumbled, a pout on her lips as she walked away towards the lake.

You felt yourself pause at the fact that Jackie wasn’t pulling her own weight, as she hasn’t your whole friendship, and that she is becoming increasingly lazy as the days drag on. You didn’t want to act like you were doing favoritism and make the others jealous, but you couldn’t bring yourself to scold Jackie, at least on your own. You look down to see Shauna staring off where Jackie walked away from, and her eyes slowly traveling to yours. Your eyes communicated the same thing; something needed to be said before it became a bigger problem.

“Here,” Shauna mumbled as she handed you her mug of water. You took a big gulp of it without question. The summer heat was getting to you already this early in the day, and you panted softly as you took the mug from your lips.

“Thank you, Shauna.” You cheer down to her with a smile, then turn to the others around the cabin doing odd jobs like cutting the firewood, eating, or hanging clothes on the clothing line.

“Hey Guys! Good Morning!” You say out to everyone with a big wave of your hand. You look over to everyone, giving you their complete attention. Misty is already raising her hand to ask a question. “Cleaners and Cooks, you are off the hook today! Um, if you have any time, try to find some mud or clay to patch up the crack in the window! And cooks, keep smoking out the jerky; it needs to be completely dry before we can eat it!”

“(Y/n)?” Misty asks politely as she lightly lowers her hand as your eyes meet hers.

“Yes, Misty?”

“I was hoping I could go out and forage today to find some more medicine for our periods, and Ben-”

There was loud snickering in the corner of Mari, Alilah, and Marlissa, and you looked at them with a sharp eye for a moment.

“Have something to add, Mari?”

Mari looks at you with wide eyes for a moment in shock. You would call her out for the second time this morning: “No, but Misty is trying to make a love potion or something!”

“I am not!” Misty flushes with a deep red on her cheeks, her voice laced with shame and embarrassment. It wasn’t the first time Misty was shut down for her requests or mocked for simply standing around, you have grown tired of the bullying Misty has been put through out here.

“Okay, so, you're going to make fun of her for trying to find some pain relief while we are all on our periods, Mari?”

“Well-”

“You’re going to be real happy when Misty finds something that can smooth out your endometriosis, but you just fine making fun of her in the meantime?” You lecture as you talk with your hands and slap them to your sides as you add, “It’s pointless, why say that?”

“(Y/n), I wasn’t trying to say anything like that-”

“Mari. We are all in the same boat. Misty is here with us, and I am happy she is here because all she does is try to help out, as much as anyone else, and she cares. She is the reason some of us are even still alive.” You say to Mari with almost a stoic brow that you felt you had authority over the girls and needed to use it for the team's betterment. Infighting will only cause more unneeded tension. You turn your face from the almost crying Mari, ashamed underclassmen around her, then to Misty.

Misty looks on at you in awe, a creeping smile on her face, awkward, and pushes her glasses closer to her face. The flush on her cheeks didn’t go away with time.

“Misty, do whatever you think is necessary. " You turn your head back to the group, now looking to the ground. “You all will go with her for safety and to build empathy. It seems to be the wilderness skill you all lack.”

“But-” Mari stammered with a soft pout of disgust on her lips.

“What?” You ask her softly, you're eyebrow-raising without your control. You could hear a snickering behind you; you knew Van and Shauna were watching you control the underclassmen with amusement. They always remembered you as someone who was too nice, and seeing you talk sternly yet sweetly to the younger girls made them want to laugh. You didn’t stop the snickering from behind you as a smirk softly tried to come to your lips. It was Mari’s own karma.

“Nothing. Fine.” Mari says as she looks to the ground.

“Okay, great, happy to get that sorted.” You say with a sigh, your hands on your hips, and you look behind yourself to Shauna and Van, trying not to laugh when your eyes meet their amused ones. “Alright, Natalie and I will go mapping until noon. Then, Natalie will go hunting with Travis. Javi, I want you to go wood cutting with Taissa, and Taissa, I want you to look out for any tracks.”

Taissa nods her head at you with a smile when your eyes meet. She sits across from Van now as she eats her breakfast gruel.

Laura Lee raises her hand softly, “May I speak?”

“Of course.”

“Is anyone going to look at the plane? You know, see if it could work. Or use the radio to communicate with someone to rescue us.”

You pale slightly at the thought of returning to the old passenger plane. You said, “I don’t know if it’s safe, but if you felt like you needed to check, go for it. Please don’t try to start it or go inside of it too much. Read the book if you want.”

Laura Lee smiled and nodded her head, “Already on it.”

You smile back, “Okay, just don’t hurt yourself.”

“God willing.” Laura Lee agreed with an earnestness that made you smile more.

“Okay. Alright, is there anything else? Except mending clothes and cleaning our rags?” You ask the group as Jackie struggles behind you with the bucket full of water. No one had anything else to add so the morning announcement ending unceremoniously.

“Fuck.” Jackie gasped from behind you as she leaned over the bucket. Van and Taissa share sharp looks of annoyance at Jackie’s panting, just proving their thoughts about Jackie being lazy. It made you feel bad as you didn’t know what to do. You sent her to do her chores, and she could barely do them. Everyone looked to you to correct her, but you didn’t even know how to confront those thoughts.

Shauna stands up, notices the looks, and comes to Jackie’s on a mission: “Hey, do you need a hand?”

“No, it’s okay.” Jackie sighed. “I got it.”

Jackie flexed her aching wrist as you approached the conversation with your best friends, “Why are you so chipper? Don’t you have a blood sacrifice between your legs like the rest of us?” Jackie asked Shauna with a soft concern in her eyes as she rubbed her wrist. You turn your head to Shauna with your head tilted a little, and the memory of her not having a period with you the first month comes to mind.

“Um, I’m late this month,” Shauna replied quickly. “Uh, we were in a plane crash. It’s probably just stress.”

You nod your head beside Jackie as you accept her response. “I didn’t even have a period our first month, but it came back, it’s kicking my ass now.”

“Yeah, lucky you’re a virgin or we’d really have to worry.’ Jackie chuckles as she smiles at Shauna and yourself, leaning down to get the bucket. “Anyways, enjoy it while it lasts, I guess. This rag situation is a fucking horror show.”

“I know! I had to make myself 6 two days ago because I couldn’t stop bleeding. I wanted to die!” You joke to Jackie as she walks to the cabin to put up the water, Jackie laughs with a snort as she struggles away. You turn your head to Shauna to see if she thought it was funny too only to see her staring blankly at Jackie’s back.

“Hey, you okay, Shauna?” You ask her with your hand coming to her shoulder.

She tried to smile as pushed your hand away, “Yeah. I just have to get some water.”

She walks away as Van approaches you. You don’t even get to move an inch as Van comes over to you and says, “Hey, can I help you go fishing today? I wanted to give it a try on the pole.”

You laugh softly, “What? But, yeah okay! You can come whenever you want you don’t have to ask, Van!”

“Well, I just wanted to make sure you wanted to hang out with me for a while.”

“Of course, Van, you're my friend.” You smile and touch her arm softly, and you can see Taissa looking at the two of you talking. “I can tell you all my secrets now.”

“Oh, (Y/n), has secrets? I didn’t think you could keep a secret.”

“What do you even mean by that?” You question with a smile on your lips and a chuckle in your voice.

“I don’t know, how about when we were smoking in the back of the cabin, and you told everyone you have little stories about Vampires.”

You blush in embarrassment, “Oh my god, Shut up, please!”

Van laughs as Taissa walks by you two with five cut logs for firewood. As she passes, she says, “Hey, I just beat your record.”

“What?”

“I carried more than four logs of wood!” Taissa stuck her tongue out to you as she snickered. She’s mentioning the logs you were carrying when you found them kissing.

“Oh, what the fuck ever!” You laugh at everyone and turn your back to walk away to go to the bathroom.

‘21

You: Callie is home now. But yeah, she slept over my house because she was having some friend drama. Shauna: Did she tell you what it was about? You: Not really, and to be honest its very petty stuff. You: Some girl is talking about how Callie is being fake for being nice to her even though she is friends with her boyfriends ex Shauna: Okay, that makes me feel better but I wished you had called me You: Callie came into the house screaming and upset, and we talked for hours and by time I could call you I knocked out You: I’m old now Shauna: We’re the same age! You: We’r so old Shauna: *We’re You: fuck you Shauna: whatever loser You: Callie picked out my outfit for the romance convention You: and the reunion You: She found my New York clothes Shauna: Oh she found the good stuff Shauna: You’re going to the reunion? You: Are you? You: I don’t know if I can go if you don’t. I don’t want to be the only one there, you know. Shauna: Are you going to brunch?

You pause as you read your text. God, it’s almost Jackie’s 43rd birthday.

You put your phone down on your lap as you sit in the driver's seat of your car. You wanted to text Shauna when you dropped off Callie. You were getting ready to leave after making Callie lunch when you got a call from Misty. You couldn’t help but sigh a little when you saw her call you again, making it about 10 times since you left the car with her—after impulsivity, eating her out in her driver’s seat. You knew she meant well, and she was lonely. She couldn’t help how creepy she came off as.

She told you to meet up with her at Natalie's hotel, which you told her you couldn’t go to because of how tense it was between you two last time.

Misty asked again, promising it was only to figure out what had happened to Travis. The guilt in your stomach didn’t let you disagree that you owed Travis this, even if you knew there was no killer deep down. It was himself. He couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t blame him. You remember how much you hated him at first, and how he grew to be a friend out there in the woods. You remember a lot about him you wish to forget, but some you hold dear. He was gentle when it counted.

So, You turn towards Natalies, and with your luck, you got there before Misty. You knew you needed to face Natalie again and be honest about how you were far too brutal with her the last time you spoke.

You kiss your teeth, reapply lip gloss, and slap your mirror shut. You hated it when you were in drama with them.

You knock on her door politely as you have your emotions under control.

Natalie opens the door with narrow eyes and sharply asks, “What are you doing here?”

“Misty told me we needed to meet for something related to Travis.” You pause and try to smile at her. Then you ask, “How are you holding up?”

“Why are you here?”

You tilt your head and feel confused yourself, “I guess because I want to get answers to what you were right about. And also, because I didn’t like how we last spoke.”

Natalie leaned on her door and looked deeply at you. She knew you were being honest, "Like it always does.”

You shrug as her words bring back many memories—before the crash, in the woods, and after—good moments and bad. “Well, I will always love you even if I can’t be there for you. I am here now. I want to support you and Travis, " you say to her and smile again. This one came from something deeper in you than just this moment.

She gives you a smile back. Maybe the cycle you shared with her wasn’t healthy, but none of your relationships were. She opens the door to let you in, and you take a seat on her bed without question.

She just stands there and looks at you with pursed lips like Natalie is trying to find words for you. “I hope you know I get why you did go with Misty. I just didn’t know how to respond to it all.”

“It’s okay, I was just really testy that day for some reason. I saw my dad and it just- yeah, I’m sorry for being so hurtful but someone was lurking to get you to spill.”

“You know I can handle myself.”

“I know. But, I didn’t know if she would be asking about Travis, not the wilderness.” You say to her as you look at your lap and play with your fingers to soothe the small shake. “I didn’t know if you could talk about him with someone looking for answers. I wanted to protect you.”

“Protect my feelings?” Natalie asked, raising her eyebrow mockingly. “You know where that led you before, (y/n). Be careful.”

You chuckle darkly with a shake of your head. Fucking bitch.

“Okay, will do, my queen.” You smirked with your mock back to her. You didn’t need Natalie of all people, to tell you about your habit of overweighing others over yourself.

There was a knock at the door. It was in Morse code.

“ I told you we didn’t need a code.” Natalie spat as she opened the hotel door for Misty.

“I’ve got good news and bad news.” Misty cheers as she hands Natalie a pink present with green tissue on the top. Walking inside of the room.

“Which one is this?”

“No, open it,” Misty says. She turns in the motel room, smiles as she sees you sitting on the bed, and waves to you. You think she is excited to be inside Natalie’s room finally. You smile back and wave, telling her you and Natalie are alright now. “It’s an Aroma Diffuser. Ylang-ylang with a hint of gardenia, subtropical florals are very, very uplifting.”

Natalie opens the box as Misty speaks. She looks over the owl diffuser and then at you as you watch the women walk around the room. Misty is indifferent to Natalie opening the present and looks around the room curiously. She opens a little file to see what is inside. “Good to know. What’s the bad news?”

“Well, uh, my contact can access the files, but he’s a bit of a D-bag.”

“Who is this person, exactly?” Natalie asked as she looked over Misty’s body.

“We only know each other by our Citizen Detective chat handles. He’s mad at me because I didn’t tell him it was a police file,” She paused to push up her glasses, “so now he wants to meet in public to ‘discuss’ the terms of the exchange.”

Natalie looks at you quickly, the two of you share a look for a millisecond as you both process the information. “Oh, we’ll meet all right.” Natalie chuckles.

“Is that going to work, Nat?” You ask as you loom over Natalie’s crouching figure; she is siphoning gas from a car outside the chinese restaurant. Misty anxiously standing beside you as the both of you try to hide Natalie’s body from onlookers.

“I mean, most restaurants won’t let you bring in drinks or food or anything." Misty adds as she hands Natalie the mobile coffee cup. As she inserts the tube to fill it, Natalie spits the little that got into her mouth.

“I don’t know, you tell me, guys.” Natalie says to both of you as she fulls up the cup. “I’ve still got that rifle in the truck.”

“Well, I don’t know how we’d get that into the restaurant,” Misty asks, disappointed that she hasn't figured out why the gun should be used instead. You pale at the thought of the gun. Natalie sighs.

The three of you walk into the restaurant with a swayer you haven’t felt in years, maybe since you were a young woman clubbing in New York. The restaurant was lit in red and held tiny lanterns on the ceiling of the place, divers between every table. You find a single man sitting alone at a table.

You smile as you approach the table and sit beside the man with the cup in your hands. You say in your best sexy voice to the man with a ponytail, “Stallion99?”

“African Gray?” He asks you back as he looks at the two other women across the table.

“Yeah, that's her.” You point to him carelessly to Misty as you smile wider, his eyes lock into yours and back to Misty, then back to yours and a glance down to your breasts.

“I’m African gray, " Misty said as she looked at the two of you. You let your hand snake on his shoulder with a soft squeeze.

“I…” He looked flustered at you, then glanced back at Misty and said, “I didn’t authorize anyone else to come to this meeting.” He whispered to Misty, leaning over the table slightly so she could hear him. Your hand ran to the back of his neck, and you saw the touch-starved goosebumps on his skin prickle.

“Well, cool out. I can vouch for them.” Misty whispered hissed back to him as she tried to look cool in front of Natalie and yourself.

“Oh my god. Just tell us what you want.” Natalie sighs as she stares the man down.

“I want in.”

You laugh out loud, out of control, looking at him with raised eyebrows and a mocking smirk. It unsettled the man, and the other people in the restaurant, but the two other women looked just as amused. Who, in their right mind, would want to be with the yellowjackets?

“On what?”

“You operation. The stiff in this file, I looked him up, and he doesn’t exist.”

“No shit, ‘cause he’s dead. And he’s none of your goddamn business. So you should just give us the file to look after it.” Natalie slowly spoke. You knew her threat was deep as you looked over at the man. He’s not taking it seriously. Your finger playfully unscrews the cap of the coffee mug.

“What’s it worth to you?”

“You have no idea.” You giggle a little when you slowly pour out the gas onto his crouch, wetting his pants. He reacts quickly, trying to stop the pouring with a grunt, “What the hell?”

“If the question is, “Is me lighting your dick on fire and going to jail worth me getting my hands on that file’” Natalie says as she pulls out her lighter and lights it without hesitation. She stares him down from across the table with her sharp blue eyes.

“You guys are fucking crazy! Here!” he pulls a flash drive out of his breast pocket and gives it to Natalie, you pull away from him in the booth. Natalie and Misty quickly get up and start to leave. You do the say and send the man a quick, “Sorry, it’s really important!” as you rush behind the girls—a small giggle in your throat.

“You should ask that guy out. You two have so much in common,” Natalie chuckles jokingly to Misty. Her eyes find you quickly as you laugh a little with the two women. Misty scoffs beside you two with a shake of her head, and you can’t help but giggle a little at her face.

‘96

You walk peacefully beside Natalie through the greenery, looking up at the leaves above you. Natalie looks down at her shoes as she adjusts the rifle strap. She looks around for tracks, but she is still learning them.

“Natalie?” you ask as you look at the blonde bottle. You have felt nervous whenever you have been around her lately. You felt your heart beat hard against your chest, and you could feel a little lump form in your throat.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever gone camping before all this?”

Natalie chuckled and shook her head, amused. “With my big happy family, we always go camping at national parks every summer.” She darkly jokes with a rasp you only heard when she was trying to be tough. You felt like she was mocking you a little bit as you felt your eyebrow furrow and realized she was technically talking about you and your family before you could speak. “Shit, sorry, I wasn’t making fun of you, I was trying to joke about my own fucked up family.”

“I didn’t think you meant it.” You reassure her as you look at her with round eyes, trying not to have her hurt feelings. You felt so better and not offended after seeing Natalie try to fix her fuck up.

“You don’t have to lie for my sake.” Natalie stops walking and looks at you with hurt eyes. Her blue eyes, looking into yours, melting your heart.

“I’m not, I just give you the benefit of the doubt, I know you wouldn’t hurt my feelings on purpose. You were just being sarcastic.” You smile again and touch her arm to reassure her that her comment didn’t hurt your feelings deeply.

Natalie looked over your face slowly, as if she couldn’t trust your response. “Why are you so nice? I know I didn’t mean it, but it sounded like I was talking shit about you. You know you can be a bitch to me, right?”

You chuckle, and a smile grows as you shrug, “Natalie, why would I do that?”

“I don’t know! Just don’t let me walk all over you, it pisses me off.” She says with a raised eyebrow, she just looks over at you in a judgemental way.

You raise your eyebrow at the energy of her getting cagey with you being kind to her, you let your lips purse as you say to her, “I’m not letting you walk all over me. I am just being a good friend. I know you, Natalie, so you weren’t trying to put me down. Just drop it if you are going to be weird.”

“You know what? Let's be honest since we’re stuck out here and have all the time in the world. What's the game?” Natalie asked you with narrowed eyes, resting her hand on her hip. She was studying you, and she didn’t trust what she saw.

“What game?” you ask, offended. “Why are you giving me the fifth degree for asking if you ever went camping?”

“I’m not. I just don’t know how you can be so nice when there isn’t any reason for it. I don’t trust it.”

“What the fuck, Natalie?!” You yelled as your eyes widened in shock. You take a step back from her and look her over. What happened to the girl you would flirt with? “I can’t be myself without you acting like I am pretending! I don’t understand-”

“It’s not normal for people to be this kind without getting something it. For, like, the first year of our friendship, I thought you were being fake.”

You felt your heart sink into your stomach and your throat dry up. You wanted to cry but you were so overwhelmed with how Natalie was talking to you, “I don’t-”

“I’m not trying to be mean, I’m being honest. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met, and I don’t know if it’s real or if I’m the messed up one for not knowing people could be so nice.” Natalie says, her voice softer as she continues to speak. Her eyes were looking straight into yours, and you wanted to explode with all the emotions going through your body. “I never went camping, by the way. I have slept outside before because my parents locked the doors. I slept outside in my trailer’s shed.”

You paused as you looked at her in sadness. “I didn’t mean to bring up something sad for you.”

“Almost everything about me is sad compared to you,” Natalie replied, looking at your face softly. You couldn’t describe the air around you two at this moment.

“I don’t think so.” You mumble out as you take a step back, and your back hits a tree. You keep your eyes locked onto Natalie’s for a moment as you try to think. “I think you’re one of the coolest person here.”

Natalie smirked softly as she took a step forward. “Oh yeah? Well, I think you’re the prettiest. And the sweetest.”

You blush at those words and shy away as if trying to understand why she would say that.

Before you can react, Natalie’s hand cups your cheek to face her again, and she leans down to kiss you against the tree. Her other hand planted against the tree's bark and caged you into the kiss.

You couldn’t help but let your body answer for you as your hand came to the back of her bottle blonde hair, pushing her closer to your body.

Your body arches against the tree, and when Natalie lays a hand on your cheek and onto your left breast, a soft moan comes out of your throat out of excitement. Your body delights in her caresses as you let her tongue enter your mouth.

Her hands softly rub against the fabric of your shirt and bra, and your nipple hardens under her touch. Her fingers knowingly pinch the tent made under her touch as she raspily chuckles, “You like me touching you like this?”

“Y-yeah.” You stutter as you pull her into another kiss. The hot summer sun made your skin sticky as you touched each other but it didn’t stop your lust from taking over your mind. “I’ve thought about this a million times.” You say in between kisses as you feel Natalie slide her hand down from your breast over your plush stomach, to your pants button.

Your mind went blind in confusion and passion. You didn’t understand why you two were dry-humping against a tree; nothing you had discussed before made the events happen. Nothing this morning hinted at this possibility.

You moan loudly as Natalie pushes her hand down your pants and pushes your underwear under her fingers, her fingers gently rubbing in circles on your clit. You groan as you instinctually roll your hips against her touch.

Natalie shushes you quietly in your ear, her hand gently goes down until her two fingers enter your greedy cunt. She thrust her fingers into you recklessly and viciously. “That’s right, good girl, take it from me.” She whispers darkly into your ear as you try to bite your lip to hold in your screams.

Ah. Ah. Ah~

You couldn’t help yourself as you let your sexual frustrations completely melt away with each delicious thrust, you felt your shirt pulled up to your neck and Natalie’s needy hands recklessly grabbing your bra away from your breast. Her lips attached themselves hungrily to your hardened nipple as she owned it as she harshly sucked onto the tender flesh.

You let out a muffled scream into your hands as you trembled under her touch, as an orgasm rips through you. Your eyes close tight as your thighs shake violently when Natalie doesn’t relent her thrusting fingers, Natalie chuckles softly as she looks up at your pleasureful face, “Good, good girl, cum on me, that’s right.” She whispers as she rubs her free hand on your thigh, touching the bare flesh in reverence.

You pant as you slowly look down at her, and you pull her into another kiss. This one felt romantic and blissful, like you had always imagined with Natalie.

You let your hand caress down her shoulder to her chest, until you got to her pants button. You wanted to do to her what she did to you. But as your finger starts to pull her shirt from under her jean shorts, however, her hand softly pushes yours away.

As you pull away with a smile on your lips, you notice the slight drop in Natalies.

It made your heart drop.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as you caress Natalie’s cheek. You leaned against the tree for a moment to support your almost jelly-like legs.

“I, uh,” Natalie stumbles as she took a step back. She wipes her hand of you, a clear slick with a pink tint to it, on her shorts and looks at the unbuttoned fly of your pants. There was an almost panic in her eyes, “I like Travis.” she blurted out to you. Your high instantly sobering up.

The air got sucked out of the forest. You felt like you were stabbed in the heart. You wanted to cry.

You smile, hiding your disappointment and heartbreak as best you can in the moment, you blink slowly as you think, “I-I, uh, I know. I saw you give Travis heart eyes last time you got a deer. Don’t-” You say as you quickly try to button yourself up. “Don’t worry about it! We just got wild, it’s okay. I’m sure guys like Travis like this type of thing!”

You wanted to vomit. This was wrong. She was supposed to like you. She just fucked you. She took your virginity, and you couldn’t help yourself from getting upset inside. You try to keep your eyes off of her so she doesn’t see how hurt you are. How much this meant to you.

It broke your heart knowing this was just a hook-up for Natalie. A moment in the woods to forget about: she was just playing with you this whole time.

“(y/n), I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Natalie tries to say as she comes closer to you but hesitates.

“I’m okay! It’s all good-” you try to say without your voice breaking, but it fails as you get to the end. You wanted to sob. “I get it! You are straight and like Travis, and I am your gay friend. I’m okay with that.”

“(y/n), I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just have gotten feelings for Travis since we started hunting and-”

You couldn’t hear another word without wanting to sob. You put on your mask as best you could.

You straighten out your shirt and tell her with a smile, “It’s okay. I get it. Go to Travis.” You say with as much kindness as you could find. “It was just a little moment between me and you, and he doesn’t have to know. Just go hunting. It’s past noon.” You say as you try to find a way to run away from all of this. You blink a lot, and no tears appear in your dry eyes.

You knew this was going to happen.

You knew no one really wanted you.

“Okay…” Natalie said as she started to take a step back. She looked hurt and confused, a mix of emotions that she had caused. “I’ll be back later. See you then.”

“See you then.” You quickly say as you immediately turn around to walk away. You felt your face twist and your body shake softly as you tried to hold back your cries. You refuse to cry anymore out here.

It doesn’t take long for your legs to take you back to the cabin, and you feel like something is sitting on your shoulder again. Now, another is attached to your chest.

You look over at the fire and the two pots. Akilah is cleaning the cooking pot of all the morning's soup, and you see that the period pad pot is unchanged from this morning. As you walk to the camp, a metallic, musky, Ammonia-like odor comes from the pot.

You wanted to act like nothing had changed, like you were still the same as you were a few hours ago, “Hey, Akilah, we need to clean this pot. It’s fucking gross.” You say as you poke a stick into the pot to pick out the washing pads. You scrunched up your nose. You try to act as nonchalant as possible.

“Sorry, it was so much more heavier than this one,” Akilah says quickly as she comes over to you without a question. The underclassmen were always willing to do what you asked them to do, and you thought it had to be with how you treated them sweetly and comforted them when they cried. You felt like their older sister.

“It’s okay; take the other end, " you say as you point to the handle on the other end. You lift the hot pot from the fireplace, panting a little as you walk towards a berry bush by the cabin.

You both placed the pot over the bush and poured the red water onto the leaves. The dirt below it was wet, drinking up every drop you poured.

“Why do we even pour this on the bushes? It just seems like extra work.” Akilah whined and panted as the two of you let the pot down for a moment.

“It helps the berries. The iron helps it-” You pant as you start to pick it back up again, “There will be more berries because of the iron in the blood.”

As you walk back up to the cabin, holding onto the big pot with Akiliah and looking down at your shoes in almost numbness from everything that happened, you hear Mari screaming from within the cabin. Jackie and Shauna sit at the fireplace, and Laura hangs laundry. They all turn to see the commotion. You and Akilah put the pot off to the side of the fireplace.

“Get it off, get it off, get it off, get it off!” Mari panics as she runs out the front door. She shakes her shirt so that something can fall out of it.

You rush over to her with all the other girls circling her. “Hey! Hang on! Hey! What's wrong!” you say to her as you help her pull up her shirt. A memory of lifting Natalie’s shirt comes to mind as you try to push it aside, ashamed, pulling out Mari’s tucked-in shirt.

“I don’t know!” Mari groans as she still twitches and writhes in spot. Akilah comes to the both of you, as does Shauna, as everyone starts to fuss over Mari. “I-I was standing under the trapdoor. But something crawled down my shirt!”

“I don’t see anything!” You say to Mari as everyone except the hunters starts to circle in on the situation.

“It’s fine. There’s nothing there, Mari!” Shauna tried to reassure her, with a hand on Mari’s shoulder.

“There’s nothing there,” Akilah added to it.

Mari slowly calms down as she stares at Shauna in disbelief, “But-”

“Must have been the ghost.” Taissa dryly stated on the porch, arms crossed and a smirk growing on her lips.

Mari turns her head sharply at Taissa with fear on her face. You try to rub her shoulder to soothe the fear, but you look over at Taissa with sharp eyes. “Don’t say that!” Mari demanded softly, she was afraid. You know that Mari comes from a superstitious family and believes full-heartedly that the house has a spirit.

“Wh- You guys!” Jackie comes in with a smile, an eureka face plastered on Jackie’s. She gasps as she jumps into the inner circle, “Okay, you guys, I just had a brainstorm. We should have a Seance.”

You felt your head unconsciously shake, you didn’t want a seance. You didn’t want to feed the fears of the others and make things harder for you all, someone was already having mental health episodes daily, and you didn’t want them to get worse. But you looked up quickly to see how proud Jackie was of her idea and having a job she could do for everyone, you stopped it before anyone could see. Fuck. You thought. I’ll just do whatever Jackie wants.

Taissa and Van laugh at first, then look at Jackie in disbelief. “That’s a terrible idea. Also, we’re not in middle school.”

“But remember how fun this shit used to be?” Jackie offered, raising her eyebrows, because she really wanted to do the seance. “Besides, maybe if we can laugh about this, then it would help,” Jackie added.

“The occult is no laughing matter.” Laura Lee bluntly stated, disapproving of the entire idea.

“It’s not the occult, Laura Lee. It’s a game. Come on, Shauna, (y/n), tell them. It’ll be fun.” Jackie replies, now insisting that everyone goes along. She looks at both of you as backup, and you both crumble to the pressure of her eyes.

“Um…” Shauna looks over at everyone and says, “Well, I mean, it’s not like we have anything better to do. And maybe this dead guy can give us some life advice.” She says as she looks over to Van and Tai. Both laugh and nod their head, “Okay.” Van relented.

“So, it’s settled. Tonight, the attic.” She says as she points to everyone, now amused by the situation. “We make contact.”

Everyone giggles softly except Laura Lee who looks down angrily. You rub her shoulder and say, “Can you pray for us downstairs while we do it? To protect us if that's what you believe.”

“I will be praying for everyone’s soul,” Laura Lee says seriously as she walks away in a huff, her hands in surrender. You chuckle softly at her, and the others giggle a little harder at the seriousness of the situation.

‘21

Shauna: You’re never going to believe this Shauna: it’s so messed up. Shauna: I’m a bad mom. You: Omg what happened? Shauna: I went to the club with Adam. You: Why are you still talking to him? Shauna: I DON’T KNOW Shauna: I went out with him because Jeff was gone again and we ran into Callie You: NO You: NO YOU DIDNT Shauna: yep Shauna: She was wearing Jackie’s uniform as a costume. You: WHAT THE FUCK!! SHAUNA!! You: I AM GOING TO GIVE HER HELL NEXT TIME I SEE HER Shauna: She was on Molly, too. Shauna: I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s out of control, but so am I. I am just so messed up from her wearing that uniform and brunch tomorrow. You: I can Imagine.

You sit on the toilet in Natalie’s hotel room, and you quickly throw away your tampon into the trash can before you flush the toilet. You wash your hands and quickly rejoin the others as they look over the folders worth of papers you had to print at Misty’s house.

You didn’t have much of a stomach to look at the autopsy photos. You wanted to cry when you read that Rosa Martinez picked up his ashes as soon as she could. His mother survived him, and there was no one to survive her. You could only think of her pain of losing everyone in her family, surviving only by memories 25 years ago. You wondered if she ever moved on; if she lived a new life after you all came back.

“Hey guys, I am ordering Chinese food. Do you want some?” you ask as you leave the bathroom, pulling up the number on your phone.

“Really? Right now?” Natalie asked you with a look of disbelief, she was looking at his autopsy photos.

“Yeah, I’m starving. Misty?”

“Steak fried rice and wonton soup, please.” Misty asked with a smile as she read over the coroner's report. His death was ruled a suicide by asphyxiation with construction equipment. The police of his country didn’t have to look too hard to see that he had changed his name, he was once a part of the yellowjacket plane crash and said that was the reason for his suicide. It was cut and dry. It was honest in your opinion.

“Okay, Natalie, you're getting the same. Are you okay with that?” You ask as you start to diel the chinese place down the road.

“Yeah, sure.” Natalie dismissively says.

“Well, You can save it for late when you're hungry then.”

“Okay, mom.” Natalie sassed as she continued to look at the photos.

You rolled your eyes as you cheerfully answered the phone. Then, you ordered everyone their food and yourself, adding egg rolls to everyone’s order.

You smile and sit back on the bed, looking over the papers. You see, there were still more photos and reports on him in the folder. He went to a rehab clinic about 3 years ago, and he went to the hospital the past year for acute bronchitis. You decided to look at the crime scene photos instead, the ones without his body in them.

You noticed something that raised your eyebrow. A little black smudge was on every single photo. You couldn’t turn your face away from it. It was in all of them.

“Guys?” You say out loud as you lay out one of the photos for the two other women to see. “What’s that thing? It’s in all of them.”

You put another photo out that was connected to the other one.

“What, that smudge?”

“And here,” Misty whispers beside you, looming over your body a little to look over, her finger pointing to another. “Does that look like wax?” Misty asked.

Then, Misty pulls the photos from your hands and starts to look over the landscape of the photos. She started to line them up perfectly and continued placing the images down one by one. She pulls out a sharpie and starts to connect the smudges.

Natalie and you stand behind her just watching as Misty work her magic, and she intensely focuses as she lines the marks together.

First, there is the circle, then a triangle, with two arms off to the side, one short on the left and the other all the way through the triangle, and then the hook at the bottom.

You wanted to vomit.

“This is bad.” Natalie says anxiously beside you, swaying, arms crossed. “This is so wrong. Travis didn’t believe in any of this shit.”

You raised an eyebrow at that. You didn’t want to correct Natalie.

“Then why is it in the place where he died?” Misty asked back blankly.

“I don’t know, but I promise you, he did not put it there.”

You wanted to laugh, and you knew he did. You knew Travis very well—not in your later years, but out there. You remembered his prayers and devotion, which made you want to vomit more.

Knock! Knock!

You felt a cold wave come over you as the knocks startled your overwhelmed body. You quickly grabbed the money in your pocket and opened the door, trying desperately not to cry, you didn’t want to see that symbol. “Thank you, keep the change.” You say as evenly as you can, but it failed, you close the door before you feel your eyes damn over.

You turned back to Misty and said, “Sorry, I am still not ready to see that thing sometimes—uah—you know.” Your breathe gaves out as you led your hand over your racing heart.

Your heart felt excited and terrified.

Misty comes over to you with wide eyes, taking the food out of your hands, “Are you alright? You’re crying?”

You didn’t realize your eyes were just rivering tears without you blinking. You haven’t felt this kind of dread since the wilderness. Unconsciously crying, your face stayed the same. Embarrassment comes over you as a rush of darkness curls in your stomach. “I-I-I don’t un-understand-” You studdered out as your breath panicked and tightened at your throat. Natalie then approaches you with a hand on your shoulder, concerned. The two of them have seen you like this before.

A cold sweat comes over you, and your breathing is shortens more as you heave your chest; an unpleasant tingling engulfs your entire body as you tremble in the corner of the room. Your eyes were blurry from your tears as you were coughing out apologies for crying and acting crazy.

Misty goes to her purse as you slide down the wall. You hold your chest, and Natalie stays beside you, holding your shoulder and breathing deeply into your face. Your eyes lock together as she tells you through the mental fog, “Breathe. It’s okay.”

You breathe slowly as you look deeply into her eyes. Misty comes back with a paper lunch bag, and you are so grateful Misty was there. You start breathing in the bag and watching the bag expand with your air, calming you down slowly.

Scrrrrappppeee! Scrrrapppeee!!

You screamed as the trees outside of Natalie's hotel room scratched the window. You push the two women away and shout. You feel hot tears burning your crazed eyes, “Stop! Stop! I don’t want to hear it!”

Laisse l'obscurité te libérer.

You wail as you hear the voice through the leaves. You have forgotten how to hear the voices in the leaves since you have been back, you knew they were in your head.

“(Y/n)-” Natalie cupped your cheeks, trying to calm you down as you sob violently, weakening and pushing her off of you.

“It’s talking to me! Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!” You sob helplessly into Natalie’s hands as you fall to the floor, pressing your forehead to the ground. “I had a brain tumor- I had enough! There is nothing outside! There is nothing outside! There is nothing outside! It is not here. (y/n) stop, please-” You whisper to yourself as you pathetically cry to the ground, trying to stop the panic attack.

Laisse l'obscurité te libérer.

The two women standing over you, both have tears from their eyes as they see you age regress. They've seen you panic like this before. They see you wail as you are now. It wasn’t pleasant to see you now as a stable, the most stable in their eyes, adult crying like a child.

The leaves outside whistle in the wind as the tree knocks on the window. You fearfully sob in your hands on the ground. “I-I’m sorry! I don’t mean to-”

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Natalie says behind you as she kneels down and rubs your back. She knows how much the wilderness took from you and how much all of this would weigh on you, but she doesn’t see past it. She knows you will keep pushing on even after this, but she cannot help but pity you now. She pulls you up and hugs you, and Misty quickly jumps in as well. You sob into Natalie’s neck.

“The leaves won’t stop talking-”

“They are just leaves. They're not saying anything.” Natalie stated that she was trying to kill the idea before it came closer to her adult life. “We’re home, and we are safe. It is going to storm, and the trees aren’t talking to you.” She sincerely says, knowing that what you experienced in the woods felt real to you. You couldn’t help but believe what you saw and heard from the others, your brain was vulnerable. It still was.

You tremble as you hug her close, and Misty pets your hair. Misty says, “You’re safe and healthy, the trees are just moving in the wind. I promise, you're safe.”

You wanted to vomit as you saw the tree in the window sway to the heavy wind like it was waving at you and smiling.

‘96

Jackie, Shauna, and you all worked on decorating the unused attic to prepare for the seance. Although you didn’t want to help, you knew this meant a lot to Jackie, so you stayed by her side and helped, as you always have in your life.

“No, no, no. Not like that.” Jackie waved her hand over to Shauna as she was placing down candles. “Put them on the marks that are already here. This symbol thing is totally seance-y.” She says as she places a candle on the mark with a little thud for dramatic effect.

You chuckle as you shake your head, you pull up a blanket over the mirror in the back of the room. You giggle a little as you pull out some crystals your mom put in your carry-o for good luck. Your mom was really into nature and natural gems, decorating your house with them and putting them in your bags and her own. Your dad had a tigers’ eye necklace just because your mom told him to. Funny enough, you didn’t have a crystal for safe travel, but you did have one for protection so that was fair enough. You placed it in the middle of the circle.

“Laura Lee will have a seizure if she sees this.” You joke as you look around the room, and Shauna starts to place the candles on the carved marks.

“Isn’t this kind of, like, a waste of candles?” Shauna says to Jackie, ignoring you. You roll your eyes at the familiar feeling crawling up your back.

“Not if we’re getting rid of a ghost.” Jackie scoffs, as she shrugs her shoulders.

You jokingly roll your eyes, “Yeah. Shauna.” You mock as you put up little homemade charms the others made tonight to hang from the ceiling.

Shauna softly laughs, looking down. “Yeah, whatever.” She does as Jackie says, circling the candles in the places where the craved symbol is on the floor.

As the two finish up, you pause momentarily and ask Jackie, “Isn’t it a little creepy that we will be in the middle where the mummy was?”

“Yeah, but it just adds to the ambiance. Come on, you guys can’t seriously believe there is a ghost in here?” Jackie asked as she stood up, dusting off her hands. “If there was a ghost in here, he’s long gone. He died in here a long time ago, he would have gotten bored of the cabin.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “I am scared. I don’t like messing with this stuff you know.”

“What? Because one time, the Ouija board spelled out your mom’s name.”

“Yeah, and 4 months later she got cancer!” you defended and you pointed to Jackie. You then look up jokingly to add, “Well, she had cancer a long time before that so it doesn’t matter! The board is creepy!”

Jackie rolled her eyes and said to you sarcastically, “Can you just call people up here to do the damn thing.”

You chuckle and nod, heading to the door. You call down the attic steps that it is about to begin if anyone wants to talk to the dead guy. Laura Lee bitterly states that she will be reading her Bible downstairs, and if anyone wants to read with her, it only makes more people come up the stairs, except Taissa and Javi.

Almost everyone comes upstairs, smiling at you as you greet them at the door. Even Natalie eventually comes up. When she comes up the steps, you smile at her with a blush coming to your cheeks.

When your smile meets her eyes, she looks away sharply. Then, she moves away from the stairs, you, as quickly as possible.

You felt a dagger stabbed you in the heart again.

You shouldn’t have told her your feelings.

You shouldn’t have let her hand down your pants.

“You didn’t have anything better to do. And it felt good.“ you thought as you sat down next to Lottie and behind the standing Shauna. You saw Natalie from across the way next to Travis and bitterly thought, “If I’m nothing to you, you’re nothing to me either, asshole.”

Lottie looks at you with a serious face and softly touches your arm. “It’s going to be okay. We might be able to ask him to leave.”

“What?” You snap your head back at Lottie. Then, everyone starts to sit down in a circle.

“You look nervous? Your scared about the ghosts?” Lottie questions as she rubs her hand on your thigh comfortingly.

A memory of Natalie caressing your thigh comes to you as you put your hand on hers to stop it. You hold Lottie's hand for a moment and joke, “If I jump, catch me okay.”

“Okay.” Lottie chuckles as she looks at your hand, holding hers for a moment before letting go of each other. Jackie starts the seance.

“O keeper of this wild and hidden place…” Jackie chants as she swirls her finger in the reddish brown paste and puts her finger on Shauna's forehead. Shauna stood still with a blindfold over her eyes and the butcher knife tied to a long shoelace to act as a pendulum. “We anoint ourselves with blood and earth,” Jackie added, putting a small cross on Shauna's forehead.

She walked away to hand the small bowl to Travis, “Here.”

He doesn’t take it for a second as he stares at her nonchalantly, you roll your eyes deeply at his presence. You were in competition with him?

“It’s just dirt and deer blood. Classic witch recipe. Relax.”

She smiled as he took it, sitting next to him with a big smile. She raised her arms to the ceiling and said, “O spirit, we offer our sister as your instrument. Come to us and speak your peace.”

“It is I,” Shauna states, in a mocking deeper voice, “Jacques.”

Everyone fell into a stifled giggle at her voice. Shauna clears her voice and repeats, “Jacque.” Everyone laughs harder this time to Jackie dropping her arms defected, “Ask your questions. The pendulum will answer them.”

“Okay,” Van says and she hands you the bowl. You look down at the tiny bowl with a small grimace as you dip your finger in it and put a cross on your forehead, passing it to Lottie. Van clears her throat and says, “Dear dead hunter guy… did O.J. do it?”

You laugh as everyone around you giggles as well, Jackie sighs across the circle and says, “Come on, guys, real questions.”

“The veil is thin between our two planes. Ask what is in your heart.”

“I’ll go.” Mari smiles across the way, she holds her hands on her knees as she leans forward, “Is Principal Berzonsky screwing Ms. Dewine?”

You giggle again, feeling in good spirits again and forgetting about the whole Natalie situation, you look forward to the pendulum, and you see it lean towards yes, with Van letting out a little oh.

“It is certain.” Shauna snickers, holding on to the deep voice. Everyone giggles loudly as we hear the amazing gossip.

“Okay! Hunter guy, if we hadn’t crashed, would we have won nationals?” Alilah asks, excited with a smile on her lips, your eyes look back to the pendulum with a smile. It leans towards no, and everyone's boos and giggles come from your throat.

“I don’t believe that!” you bravely stated as you asked, “Now, is our math teacher Mr. Mattz really a pervert for marrying his young wife?”

The pendulum moves quickly and sharply towards yes to your question, it made you shake back with a laugh everyone did as you continued, “So is it true she was once his student!”

It moves back to the center and back to yes sharply again. Everyone erupted in laughter, and you felt yourself fall back onto Lottie a little bit, with tears coming to your eyes. “Of course he is!” You cackle, and everyone continues with the laughs.

“Is Frenchie Deveto’s boobs fake?” Marlissa asks with a big blushing giggling grin.

Natalie chuckled and shook her head. You felt a lull in your happiness while she spoke. “They’re obviously fake. Do you really need a ghost to tell you that?” Natalie asked Marlissa as Javi came up the steps.

You looked away from Natalie to smile at him, which he bashfully shared. Javi sat down next to Natalie and Travis. He was a sweet kid who didn’t talk much, and you always tried to be sweet to him.

“You think?” Mari agreed from across the way. “But who would’ve paid for them? Her parents?”

“I think they got divorced recently. It could have been guilt money.”

“Well, that’s just creepy.” Mari looked at Van in disbelief, and you and Lottie shared a look of humor.

“Your mom and I are splitting up, but don’t worry,” Van mocks a man's voice as she cups her breasts for effect, “‘cause your tits are gonna look amazing!”

Everyone giggles as Van jokes. The pendulum does not move, and it hasn’t since everyone has been joking. Taissa comes up to the attic as Jackie waves her hands around to say, “Guys, guys, okay, focus. Next question.”

Misty raises her hand, and Jackie smiles at her. You smile softly, and Misty politely and shyly wants to participate. “Misty?” Jackie asks.

Misty nervously chuckles and pushes her glasses up. " Um...” She takes a deep breath to calm down. “Dear spirit, I need to know the truth.” Her brown eyes look at you once before nervously shooting back to the ground. “Does the person I like like me back?”

There was a silence caused by pursed lips and trying not to laugh at her, and you couldn’t help but feel pity for Misty. Coach Ben will never like her, and it is clear that she lusts over his every move. It was sad. Jakie rests her chin on her fist and says, “Awh.”

You wanted to laugh loudly at her little comment but bit your lip. You see Taissa sitting in the chair in the corner, the mummy’s chair, and you take a little longer look at her. Her eyes seem lost for a moment as she clunches the arms of the chair tightly.

The pendulum moves towards yes, and Van looks down at it unimpressed, “Okay.”

Travis whistles for Misty, and Natalie slaps his chest in response with a smile on her lips. You wanted to scream. Everyone giggles softly as Misty excitedly takes in the news. “Yes, Misty!” Mari cheers for Misty with a smile, and everyone seems to be actually happy for her a little bit.

“Okay, next question.” Jackie says softly with a smile.

Javi raises his hand with a sad look, and you feel something coming. Jackie’s nods and says, “yeah?”

“Are we all going to die out here?” He asks gloomly. He was dead serious.

The lightness in the room was sucked with that question. You look over at him with concerned eyes, “Why ask that, Javi? We’re doing okay, that is too dark.” You say quickly as you see the pendulum move a little bit. You felt like a mom hiding the grim reality from their kids. You didn’t want the answer to that. You ask loudly before anyone else can speak, “The better question is, Is anyone looking for us?”

The pendulum sharply points towards yes. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, but as we started to look at Javi again for asking such a depressing question, it started to move towards no, then back to yes, as if in a trance, quickly going back and forth. It was shape like an 8.

You feel pressure at the back of your head, and you look behind you quickly towards the window. Nothing was there. You were getting paranoid.

“Okay, an eight? What’s that supposed to mean?” Van asks grumbly, as she hugs her knees towards her chest. She was also getting scared.

“It’s not an eight; it’s an infinity.” Lottie corrected as she looked down at the knife. She looked behind herself too as she also felt the pressure like you just felt, you turn your head, too, on instinct.

“Yeah, okay, Aristotle.” Van snipped back to her best friend, frustration building from fear.

There was nothing but the trees outside. You were about to turn your head back as Lottie let out a bloodcurdling scream.

BOOM!

The window flings open from the outside, slamming against the wall of the attic, blowing out every single candle at once. You scream in response as Shauna drops to the floor in fear, she pulls her blindfold off, as you step back into her, “What the hell!” You scream as everyone in the room yelps and screams in terror.

“Who has the matches?” Jackie panickingly asked the group as she crawled forward. Lottie continues to scream at the top of her lungs. Everyone started to yelp in fear.

Taissa had run cover to close the window behind the two of you.

You come over to Lottie and say shakingly, “It’s okay, there was nothing out there!”

Lottie hyperventilates in your arms as she stares down at the ground in an intense trance. Spit is dripping from her open, panting mouth as her palms press against the wooden floor.

“It’s okay!” You try again and rub Lottie back. Van comes over to you two as she also rubs Lottie’s back, “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Guys, something’s really wrong with her.”

Lottie sobs violently as she grabs the side of her head, she doesn’t blink as she cries, her mouth curling with primal groans.

“I-I don’t think she-” Akilah comes over to look at Lottie and tries to calm her down.

“It wants… It wants…” Lottie sobs as she starts to curl her lip like an animal.

“Misty, what do we do?” Van sternly asks the blonde in the corner, wanting answers on how to fix this.

You stare at Lottie blankly as you don’t know what to do. You just listen to her, “What does it want?”

“IT WANTS!” Lottie yells back as her body starts to tremble under your touch, a layer of sweat lining her face.

“Lottie, I swear to god, if you are fucking with us!” Mari cries as she slowly crawls away. She is horrified. Marlissa and Gen stare beside her in fear. You wanted to rush over to the underclassmen and hug them, make them stop crying. Lottie’s thrashing and screaming made you look back to her.

Her once brown eyes stare into your in a reddish crazed haze. Something like a giggle and sob comes out of her throat as she stares at your face. A pained smile spreading on her pink lips.

“I think she’s, like, possessed,” Akilah says as she tries to hold Lottie's face to see if she is biting her tongue.

“Listen, Lottie, Lottie, Sweetie-” Shauna tries to lure Lottie back to reality, kneeling in front of the girl. “What’s going on? What is ‘it’?” Shauna asks her with her face right next to Lotties.

Lottie groans in pain as her tears rush down. She shakes more as Shauna presses, “More like, what does 'it' want?”

“Hungry.” Lottie sobbed as she stared down to the ground. You followed her eyes, and she was staring at a symbol. “Hungry,” she whispers. She seems to tire for a moment, but she starts to giggle. You freeze at this moment, locked in your own fear. You knew it. This wasn’t fake. Lottie’s eyes looked a little red in the moonlight, like Taissa’s the night before. Lottie shushes the air, as she grabs ahold of your arm. She slowly looks up at your body until her brown eyes into yours, “it’s in you already.” She says as her neck cranes back to Shauna, like she was answering Shauna and not you.

You shake in fear as you look into her eyes.

Something is in her.

Something wasn’t right here.

“Lottie, Knock it off. This isn’t a game.” Taissa hissed, not believing in what was happening.

Lotties eyes look back up to Taissa’s as she whispers, “Il voulait du sang. Il veut toujours du sang, Il veut plus de sang.”

“Is that French?” Marlissa asks the group, pale.

Lottie would have failed French without your notes. You don’t understand. You had the best grade in class, yet you couldn’t speak French like she could in this moment.

This wasn’t right.

“Il voulait du sang. Il veut toujours du sang, Il veut plus de sang.”

“Since when has Lottie ever spoke French?” Natalie asks the group as she stays away from the situation.

“Jackie-(y/n), W-wasn’t she in your class?” Shauna asks both of you, her head snapping from you back to Jackie.

Jackie panics, her arms out in surrender, “Yeah, but she sucks at French.”

“Well, what is she saying?!” Mari asks with a hiss to Jackie.

“It wants blood, always wants blood. It wants more blood.” You try to translate as you try to single out all the other voices besides Lottie chanting one. You just let Lottie’s hand squeeze your one so hard your bones were touching more than they should.

“Il veut plus de sang. Il voulait plus de sang. Le sang coule ici. Ici, ici, il faut…"

“Always wants blood. Something flows. It must… here? Here?” You say with your eyebrows furrowing together tightly in confusion.

“Il voulait plus de sang. Le sang coule ici. Ici, ici, il faut… ”

“Blood flows free here? Here, here, it must—" You tried to understand what she was saying as she abruptly stood up, circling her spot until she saw the window.

She approached the window with a mission: “Ici, ici, il faut… ” Lottie whispered as she gently touched the cold glass.

“There’s blood where Lottie?” Van asks, she follows Lottie closely behind.

“You really have to be encouraging her, Van?” Taissa asks from across the way, deadpan.

Van points a finger at Taissa to shut her up, snapping her head back to Lottie, “Blood here, or out there?”

“le sang féminin nourrit les baies et les nourrit.offrez-lui ce qu'il veut et il se nourrira. tous se nourriront. Ici, ici, il faut!” She whispers as she presses her sweaty palm on the glass.

You can’t bring yourself to say it to the others. You don’t believe what Lottie was saying. The idea you all have been giving offering to some spirit for weeks without knowing disturbed you. “Here. In here.” You say and pause in disgust—your periods.

Lottie turns her head slowly towards you, making eye contact, her eyes wild and complete detached from Lottie, “Laissez les ténèbres vous libérer. Laissez le sang couler et il ne vous décevra jamais. Il a seulement faim comme nous, laissez-le vous consumer. Oui, Oui!” She whispers softly as her eyes twist in contern, she shushes the air as she comes back to the window. “Écouter… Écouter…” she lets the tips of her fingers touch the window.

You ask her, your lip trembling and your eyes filling with tears, everyone watching on with terror, “I am listening. What darkness are you talking about? You don’t make sense! What’s hungry!? The woods?”

Her breath rasps as she looks into the glass, focusing on the wild outside, she whimpers, “You must spill blood. Or else…”

“Or else what, Lottie?” Jackie asks still frozen to the ground. Lottie only pants louder as she doesn’t move from her spot, looking out the window. “Lottie, what are you-”

“Laisse l'obscurité te libérer.” Lottie whispers as she suddenly slams her head into the thin glass with a disgusting crack. Van, Akilah, and yourself coming up behind her quickly. Blood trickles down Lottie's forehead as she wails out to the girls, almost like a child to its mother. Lottie touches her bleed forehead in confusion as she falls to the floor taking the other girls with her.

A roaring thumping up the stairs could be heard as Laura Lee stormed inside the attic. Her face was stoic and serious, and she held her Bible. She was over whatever the hell happened tonight.

“The power of Christ compels you! Begone, Satan!” Laura Lee desperately yells as she holds up her bible to the groaning Lottie. “The power of Christ compels you!”

Lottie countries to wail and groan on the ground demonically as Laura Lee’s eyes panic, “Lottie! Lottie, stop!” She demands that she throw the heavy leather-bound bible onto Lottie’s lap.

Lottie yelps as her eyes widen in shock. Her face regains color within seconds, and she takes a few breaths. “Ow!” She whines as she looks up at Laura Lee in shock and confusion, blood dripping down her cheek dramatically. “What the hell, Laura Lee?”

Everyone stared at the girl in the center. The only sound was people panting, and a relief was washing over everyone.

“Seriously?” Mari demanded Lottie, angry and starting to believe it was all made up. “What the motherfuck just happened?”

Laura Lee doesn’t move as she watches Lottie, completely amazed by her abilities and believing god worked his magic through her as a vessel. Lottie’s face twists in confusion as she lifts her finger to feel the dripping sensation from her nose, she panics a little at the sight of blood.

You wanted to vomit.

“Lottie, do you even remember what just happened? Are you okay?” You ask as you come over to the girl with soft eyes.

You completely believe her just from her eyes. She really thought something had come over her. There was no way she could speak French like that. There was no way Lottie would shove her face into the glass.

“No- I- Why am I bleeding?” Lottie asked, confused as she continued to touch her nose. You look over to the others to silently say to them something you couldn’t figure out. Lottie has gone too far into her delusions.

You hug her shoulder and say as you rub her arms, “Come on, let's get you cleaned up, you hurt yourself. Let's get you to bed.”

You anxiously lay down in your makeshift bed sandwiched between Shauna and Jackie. You felt your eyes stare at the ceiling unnerved to even close your eyes, you held your blanket up to your chin as she listened in on the conversation in the corner. You knew everyone was too scared to go to sleep.

“Do we think it’s still up there?” Akilah nervously asks the group, and she plays with her fingers as she looks down.

Taissa, who was lying just off your left, sprang up and hissed, annoyed, “You all need to stop. There is nothing up there. Lottie has been acting weird for weeks.”

Everyone was silent as you looked around. Then, you saw Van nervously watching over Lottie, her best friend, and Akilah nervously sitting up doing the same. Lottie was deep asleep on her pillow, curled up, with a small wrap around her head from her head wound. Everyone nervously lay down in her bed and tried to act like they weren’t listening.

“Fine!” Taissa says, standing to her feet and taking her pillow and blanket with her. She grabbed her backpack and slung it behind her shoulder, “I’ll prove it.”

“You’re going to sleep up there?” Akilah asks Taissa in disbelief.

“That’s right. Who’s with me?” Taissa states that she turns back to see that no one is following suit with her. Everyone was still scared from earlier.

Laura Lee started whispering a prayer louder in her bed. She was praying for all our souls and for protection from darkness in these woods. Van shakes her head quietly and looks down as she continues to watch over Lottie.

“Fine. More room for me, then.” Taissa sassed as she walked through the floor littered with bodies in their bed. She walked to the cabinet with the ladder to the attic.

No one moved for a moment as she left the room. No one had the courage to come with her; no one was as fearless as Taissa. You felt a pang of guilt come over you as you felt you were partly to blame for everyone's freakout.

Shauna sat up and looked towards the ladder. She whispered to the two of you, “We should go up there with her.”

“In the attic? No frickin’ way!” Jackie says with no hesitation. She shakes her head as she lies on her pillows.

“Well, she shouldn’t be up there alone. I mean if it weren’t for us-”

“Shauna, whatever happened tonight was not because of our dumb seance.”

“But everyone is so freaked out because we wanted to do it.” You added as you played with your cuticles and started to pick them. Your stomach growls.

“Okay but-”

“If you want to sleep up there, fine, be my guest. I’m staying down here.” Jackie stated that she had finished the conversation with the three of you and that you all would stay with her. You felt so much guilt for staying, and now you didn’t want to upset Jackie.

Jackie then huffily turns to her side away from both you and Shauna. You stay still for a moment as Shauna lays back down.

You both just lay down in the shared bed for another 10 minutes before you turn your head to look at Shauna. She was already looking at you and when your eyes met, you decided you would leave at that moment.

You stand up and say to Jackie, “I can’t leave her up there, I don’t want to make anyone worry. I promise I will come back down here tomorrow, but I can’t leave Taissa up there.” You say as you grab your pillow, Shauna is already leaving the maze of beds to the attic. You follow behind as best you can until you climb up the ladder. You see Taissa curled up in her pillow with her blanket up to her chin in fear. She sits up when she sees the two of you.

“We were just going to keep you company,” Shauana says to the two of you as you both stand in the doorway. “If that's okay?”

“We couldn’t let you sleep alone up here.” You add as you walk closer to the laying girl.

Taissa stays quiet for a moment as he puts your thick foam, taken from a plane seat next to hers. You smile at her softly as you lay down a blanket and pillow. You start to lie down with your fuzzy blanket dragged over your legs. Shauna follows suit and puts hers next to yours.

Everyone sits down momentarily and takes a breath, taking in the situation in the dark attic. You are only lying 5 feet away from the man who took his life. It wasn’t a good feeling up these stairs, but you didn’t care.

“How far along are you?” Taissa whispers into the air, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. You felt your eyebrow raise as you turned your head to look at the two other girls, you knew she wasn’t talking to you but what was she even saying? Shauna’s eyes widen just a little as she slowly turns her head to Taissa, and your heart drops to your stomach.

Oh, no.

The two look at each other for a moment as you watch on. You realize quickly that Shauna and Taissa’s conversation, but you have no context, was happening because they trusted you with this information as much as each other. You were the moderator. You keep quiet as you nervously look over Shauna's body. “You are pregnant, right?” Taissa asks again gently, looking over Shauna.

Shauna blinks slowly as if she is finally accepting the fact, she whispers, “You guys won’t tell anyone… Will you?”

Taissa shakes her head immediately with a quick, “No. I won’t.”

You reach your hand over Taissa's body to touch Shauna’s shoulder, “Nothing for us to tell. That’s only if you're okay with it.” You reassure her in a whisper. You rub her shoulder as you feel your eyes sprinkle with tears. A mix of emotions was coming over you for your childhood best friend. You were excited to see her baby and to be an aunt as you always dreamed of becoming for her kids and her to your own one day, but you felt dread at the thought of a baby growing inside of her. You were hungry tonight, and you were sure Shauna was too.

Taissa whispers as she looks at you, and your eyes meet quickly to exchange worry and stress about the situation. “But if we’re stuck out here long enough, I have a feeling it’ll come out one way or another.”

You felt yourself nod a little at her words, agreeing all the way. But you couldn’t shake the want to comfort Shauna at this moment with her eyes fearful and nervous at Taissa’s words, “That’s not for tonight.” You say softly to Taissa as you rub your hand on Shauna’s shoulder, “She’s not showing now, and a lot can change in time. People are looking for us, and I am sure Shauna will get to a hospital before anything happens.” You try to reassure her.

You look at Shauna fully now. Tears well in her eyes, and she is worried, and you feel like you are a mirror to her. But at this moment, you want to give her some peace.

“You’re having a baby?!” You excitedly whisper to Shauna with a smile, a tear rolls down your cheek, and a chuckle comes to your throat. You didn’t even know Shauna wasn’t a virgin anymore, you didn’t know who the father was, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about that. At this moment, you assume that this was something you missed while taking care of your mom, and you will get more details on who the father was later. For now, all you could care about was Shauna and their baby.

Shauna’s worry falls away for a moment at someone reacting positively to the pregnancy, the only one to have it, and she tries to smile back. A chuckle comes out of her mouth as she wipes a fat tear from her eye. “Yeah. I think I am.”

“That’s amazing!” You say with a wide grin, tears falling. You giggle again, uncontrolled. Taissa, below you, chuckles, too, feeling the excitement that you are holding. “That is great news, maybe not out here, but Jesus Shipmen, we’re having a baby!” You whisper as you run your arm down Shauna’s arm to her hand, holding her hand tightly.

Shauna starts to cry as you congratulate her fully. You know she wasn’t happy, and this wasn’t what she wanted, but she needed support. You hold her hand, and Taissa puts a hand on Shauna’s head. “We’ll be here for you no matter what. We’ll keep it a secret. We’ll do whatever we can for you and the baby, Shauna!" you add to the attic's darkness.

The three of you hug on the attic floor as Shauna softly cries into both of your chests, you and Taissa try to calm her down until the three of you fall asleep, exhausted from the day you had.

‘21

You try to forget about the night you had last night as you read over more editors' notes for the 10th chapter of your novel. It was slow work to comb through every paragraph, every sentence, every word to make sure it all made sense. It had foreshadowing but was not too oblivious. It had depth without being melodramatic. It was tiring, but you kept going. There were another 22 chapters in your novel to go through, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care that it was grueling.

You needed to have this sent and done for printing by the end of August for it to be realized by October, and you needed to look normal and mentally prepare for a press conference. You needed to promote the book before it came out for presales. They need you to talk about the smut and the angst that will excite the long-time readers.

You’ve done this circus before. Nothing was new. You knew what questions were going to be sent your way. You used a pen name as your name, and you have aged 25 years since the crash, so most people don’t talk about that anymore. Most don’t even know you were a part of the yellowjackets. They just thought you were a hermit romance author who doesn’t do a lot of interviews. But, you remember at your first convention where someone asked if you had eaten people and if you used your experience to write your vampire series. They were taken out by security, you saved face every well by tearing up, and the questions were sent away from you. It’s been years since then and now you mostly get lonely people asking questions about your characters like they were real people. You happily indulge because it's the reason you became a writer.

Your phone vibrates, and it is Natalie. Your heart skipped a beat.

You answer, “Hey, what's up? Before you say anything, I just want to say sorry-”

“You’re sorry about last night?” Natalie interrupted you with a chuckle. No, don’t be. Please come over. We have something important going on, and I trust you the most.”

Your eyes widen, “You do? Thank you, okay, what's wrong?”

“You have to come over, I called Shauna over too. It’s an emergency.”

You pale a little bit at the thought of your friends contacting each other without using you as the messenger. “Okay, coming as soon as I can.”

“Can’t wait.” Natalie snarky replies as she hangs up the phone.

You click save on your document and get out of your chair. You had no more meetings today or any reports to look over for your story, you just have to edit. You grab your purse and fling it over your shoulder as you anxiously leave your house.

When you got to Natalie’s hotel, you noticed that Misty's white minivan wasn’t there but another expensive white Tesla beside Natalie’s black Porsche. It made your eyebrow raise as you didn’t know anyone who would have such an expensive car, but you were happy to get there before Shauna did to ask if Natalie could downplay how much you have been in contact. You know Shauan will be wrathful upon knowing you were hanging out with other people, especially Natalie and Misty, behind her back.

You knock softly on the door and hear Natalie talking to someone. You smile when she opens the door. Natalie lets you into the room and acts like the night before never happened. You feel grateful until you turn to look at Taissa standing in the kitchenette.

You stood still as you looked at her. You haven’t seen her since 2006. Your phone, which you had been using to call the other girls, was in your purse because of her. You didn’t know what to think.

“Hey.”

“Hi, (y/n). You look nice.” Taissa smiled, then looked at you nervously. She knew she wasn’t who you wanted to see. Your history with her was a little too personal after the rescue, and it didn’t end pretty. You bit your tongue as you looked at her expensive outfit.

“Thank you, you too. You look like you’re already a senator.” You say back, with a smile of your own back at her. Trying to keep it short and sweet with her. Your eyes look down gently to the table where the photos from last night were tapped together to keep the written symbol in one piece. “Oh, god, why is it still here?”

“You know about this?” Taissa asked as she looked down at the table. “Did you get a text from the blackmailer?”

You snap your head in shock towards Taissa with wide eyes, “Blackmailer? What are you talking about?”

Taissa showed you her phone and the top text was “Gather 50k cash and await further instructions. Do NOT discuss this with your teammates - I WILL KNOW.” and an emoji version of the symbol.

You felt pale as you stared at the screen.

How could someone know anything and blackmail you?

The only people to know what happened out there were you guys or dead.

“Did you get the same text?” Natalie asked as she came from behind.

“No.” You confess as you hand Taissa her phone again, your hands go to open your purse, “Did you call Misty?”

“That conniving, poodle-haired, little fucking freak doesn’t need to know anything. Keep Misty out of it, okay.” Natalie said as she pointed a finger at you. You pulled out your cigarette bag and pulled out a cigarette. “She told Shauna Travis died! She didn’t even tell Taissa or tell us she told Shauna.”

You roll your eyes as you place a cigarette in your mouth, You look over to the women and say, “Okay, fine, do you guys want a cigarette? I need a fucking cigarette.”

Taissa comes to you with her hand out. You hand her one stick, light your end off, look at Tai, and then light hers.

“Hope you know, you’re getting a cleaning bill after your stay here Natalie.” You say as you blow the smoke out the window beside the table. You knew this was a no-smoking hotel, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the room.

“I don’t fucking care. Where the fuck is Shauna?” Natalie stressed as she peeks out the window beside you.

Translation for Amis de l'autre côté

Taglist: @zhivaxo @h-doodles @homopheli @bigtimesalt8196 @juniperjean @scatorccioz @juniperjean @yaakooi @lottieswebs @juchily @freezinggay @deathly710-blog @ghostoflesbianism @marvelous-wandanatangel @errriiie @anskkks @deathvidal @slutforhotpeople @thursdayygrrrl @day-ziez @evewasheretoday @mayasaurusss @captainbabybear @eleanormall @mommyeater2000 @leonchef @mikititta @tigersarrcool @nyasbae @dykepvppy @jax1118 @oakwave @mmiah @dvrkhcld @swiftin0f @opheliadeservedbetter-27 @psychicdreamwonderland @pinkmoonzzz @under-your-bed-not-in-it @sadsapphic-rose @fictitious-sapphic @gayandfairycore @modernvenuss @livil589

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ahundredtimesover · 11 months ago

Text

Hold Me Closer | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. brother Jimin)

Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; slight angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption; kitchen emergency; eldest child feels, adulting; explicit sexual content (making out, oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex but be safe please!); Seven JK (18+)

Word count: 19.2k

Read Part 1: Hold Me Close

Summary: When you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up... Not if your brother can help it, though.

Listen to 🎵: Hands Down by Dashboard Confessional

Playlist 🎶: High School Playlist

A/N 1: I know I said I’d be on a break but I reread Hold Me Close and found comfort in this Jungkook 🥹 so I went ahead and wrote this little piece! Whipped and comforting boyfriend JK is what I needed so I hope you enjoy this 💕

Six - the number of work calls you’ve already taken in the last hour, with each one of them lasting one whole song. Jungkook calculates that you’ve spent half of the entire drive since leaving Seoul talking with your boss about some report that he somehow can’t complete without you, which sucks because Jungkook was really looking forward to this road trip with you and his best friend.

You groan after you hang up and the clackity clack of the keyboard continues. He was hoping to hold your hand while he drove and maybe sing with you some of your favorite songs that he put on but it doesn’t seem like those will happen anytime soon. You’re immersed in your work but he guesses you have to be; the sooner this ends, the sooner your focus will be on him and this present moment.

He finds the positive side of it at least. He gets to listen to you explain things - why the numbers are what they are, what targets you reached, and what risks you managed. It’s quite silly but it’s kind of a turn on, hearing you talk about something you know like the back of your hand, pretty much proving to your crap of a boss how good you are at your job and why you’re an asset to the company. You know your shit, and you have a classy way of making sure they know that you do.

Six calls, and Jungkook already knows half of your project report. And perhaps he’ll know more, as the seventh one comes.

You let it ring for one, two, three times, as you hold your phone in one hand while you continue to type away with the other.

“I swear to god, ___. If you don’t pick that up, I’m gonna throw your phone out of this car,” Jimin, who’s comfortably seated in the backseat, growls.

The dramatics is understandable because one, it’s Jimin and two, the constant ringing is a little bit much.

“___, I’m not fucking kiddi—”

“Hello, sir,” you finally answer, then proceed to discuss this month’s analytics and projections for the succeeding quarter.

Jungkook predicts it’s gonna take you another whole song to finish, so he instead focuses on the road and appreciates the clear skies and familiar scenery of the drive to Busan. His thoughts go to how these next several days are gonna go. There’s visiting your favorite spots growing up, going to a resort, staying in to eat and play video games, and of course, cuddling with you in your room, as you and Jimin will have your parents’ house to yourselves once they leave for their anniversary trip in two days.

His musings are disrupted though, when he looks at the rear view mirror and sees Jimin’s annoyed face blocking his view. Jungkook can’t help but laugh, especially when he hears his best friend grumbling complaints just behind him.

“Leave her be, she’ll be done soon,” Jungkook dismisses him. “They sound like important stuff.”

“She’s talking so loudly!” Jimin groans. “I just want to reminisce and sing along to our teenage emo music, Kook.”

Jungkook turns the music off.

“There, I paused it. You can sing along once she’s done speaking on the phone,” he says.

Jimin pouts in response. “You always take her side. You weren’t like this when we were kids.”

“Well, if it means anything, I always took her side. I just never told you,” Jungkook laughs.

“Traitor.”

“I’m literally your most loyal friend.”

It’s a statement that Jimin can’t counter. Jungkook is his most loyal friend. And the most supportive. And the most dependable. And definitely the one who’s never left his side.

When Jimin casually told their group that he likes girls and boys, Jungkook was the only one who didn’t need time to “warm up to the idea.” Jungkook was also the only one who never disappeared whenever he had a girlfriend. He was also the one who never missed a single one of Jimin’s dance showcases in college and professional shows.

And of course, Jungkook was the one friend who took up his offer to drink that Friday afternoon, resulting in that infamous gutter incident - as you like to call it - and his subsequent unemployment and homelessness. While you, his beloved sister, were there to pick up the pieces, so was Jungkook, the way he promised he would after they became friends at 10 years old.

Those months when Jimin was heartbroken and unsure of what he was going to do with his life, his best friend was there to make sure that he wasn’t going to lose his drive and love for dancing. His best friend is also the one constantly cheering him up about this long-distance relationship that he decided to have with Taehyung while others continue to be a skeptic.

Jungkook is that friend, and Jimin supposes he can forgive the other man every time he sides with you.

Jimin is about to complain again when you put the phone down and make one of your restrained cries. He pities you, but it doesn’t change the fact that he wishes you wouldn’t be doing your work stuff while you’re on a trip of what’s supposed to be a mini-break.

“I don’t get why you don’t pick up after the first ring,” he huffs.

“It’s so Mr. Soo knows that I’m not easily available,” you say.

“But you are. You answer it anyway,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Exactly, I’m gonna answer it anyway. Might as well make him wait for it because he needs me,” you point out. “It’s bad enough that he’s calling while I’m taking the leave he approved, so I’m just pissing him off. He doesn’t know I changed the prompt to leave me a voice message to an annoying song so he’ll have to sit through it to get to me. I already know it’s getting on his nerves.”

“Ooh, petty. I like that,” Jimin hums.

“I know. I got that from you,” you proudly smile.

“But why are you even working?” He whines, your brother’s tone more of pity than annoyance. “It totally defeats the purpose of a leave. And you shouldn’t be indulging him!”

“Well, Mr. Soo approved this leave thinking that Chul would help him craft this report, which is based on the project that I proposed, only to realize that he doesn’t know shit about it because I wrote everything, and he just took the credit,” you explain. “I don’t want to be doing this, too, but I also just took the chance to show who’s driving the wheel, and it’s definitely me. Plus, I worked hard for that project. Working on the report at least gives me a chance to give myself credit for it.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right,” Jimin concedes. “Your voice is just so loud.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to match his tone,” you say. “But he’ll be in a meeting for the next hour or so and he probably won’t need me again until then. You can turn the music back on.”

“Ugh, thank god,” Jimin groans again. “I missed my favorite song.”

He leans forward and squeezes himself in the small space between you and Jungkook. The proximity causes Jimin to smack his elbow on your face, which you know is intended, considering how much of a brat he is. So you do what you always do - flick the back of his head.

He yells but gets over it once he manages to press the rewind button and plays the song he’s been wanting to hear. You haven’t been paying attention throughout the drive and hadn’t even known what they were listening to, but once the music comes on, a wave of nostalgia hits you.

You take the CD case you see in the compartment and scan the song list.

“Dashboard Confessional?” You read out. “Mayday Parade? Something Corporate?”

You go through 2 other CDs and look at both men questioningly.

“These are literally plucked out of my high school playlist that I illegally downloaded,” you state, given that music streaming sites weren’t a thing over a decade ago. “Why do you have them in CDs? And did you even know these songs back then?”

“Yes, because we listened to your playlist when you weren’t around,” Jimin confesses, earning him a flick on the arm.

“You went through my computer? You were in my room?!” You yell.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jimin rolls his eyes. “It was a boring room, there was nothing to see. We just wanted your music because they were cool, but I’d never admit it.”

“I’m sure,” you shake your head. “But it was my ex, remember? He was a new kid from the US and he got me into these emo rock bands and I thought they were cool, too. He downloaded them illegally for me and I just jammed to those songs all the time even after we broke up.”

“We know. Jungkook and I could hear it from my bedroom,” Jimin says, “which is why we used to sneak in and listen when you weren’t around.”

“Is that why you put them in a mixtape? So you could listen to them whenever you wanted?” You ask, turning to Jungkook because between the both of them, he’s definitely the one who’d know how to do this.

“Yeah, Kook. Why did you make these mixtapes when neither of us had a portable CD player… but my sister did?” Jimin presses, cocked eyebrow and smug face on display.

You’re looking at him now, and it’s a curious look that Jungkook can’t resist.

“I just thought to put your most played ones in CDs,” he shyly admits, “and uh, planned on giving them to you before you left for college. But I chickened out so I just left them in a box in my room that I brought to Seoul. I’d forgotten all about it until Jimin raided my studio and found them.”

“You… you made me mixtapes? When you were 15?” You ask.

“___, I think I’ve established enough that I had a huge crush on you when I was a teenager,” he turns to you and laughs.

It’s a little embarrassing even if he’s already dating you. It still feels surreal sometimes, as he thinks of his growing up years and how he always looked forward to sleeping over at Jimin’s place and then catching glimpses of you. There were the times when you’d watch movies with them in the living room, and then he’d help you clean up in the kitchen so he could spend more time with you.

That was over 10 years ago and so much has changed, but the admiration he felt for you never dwindled. There was always that image of you looking happy. He kept that version of you in his mind, even when you had your boyfriends. He just wanted to remember your smile, and now he gets to be the reason for it, like now.

“It’s just… it’s very sweet and thoughtful,” you say softly.

“I… Well… I took interest in the things you liked. I guess that happens when you like someone.”

“Told you he’s a romantic,” Jimin nudges you.

Between the fairy tattoo he designed and did on your shoulder, the dinner and picnic dates he takes you to despite both your busy schedules, and the way he holds you so close to him whenever and wherever he can, you can definitely say that Jungkook is a romantic.

It’s only been three months but it feels as if you’ve been dating him for longer, given the overflow of affection he’s been giving you. It’s in the way he always holds your hand and kisses you so passionately. It’s in his encouraging words and the way he spoils you with the littlest things.

It’s refreshing to be with him. He has boyish charms that have become even sexier with his slightly long hair and the lip ring that he recently got. And whatever he’s wearing, there’s just something so comfortably sexy about him that’s both warm and exciting, and you often find yourself swarmed in butterflies whenever he talks about you.

It’s only been three months but it’s a relationship you’re still slowly being open about. Your friends were definitely surprised. Hoseok fell off the couch with all his body movements; Jin spat out his drink; Yoongi gasped, then followed it up with a teasing smirk; So-Hee and Na-eun gushed over how Jungkook treats you, and took the chance to say how he’s gotten more handsome over the years.

You asked them if it was that shocking for you to be dating someone younger - and your brother’s best friend at that - and while they said it was a bit unexpected, what really got them was how different Jungkook is from your exes. He’s not some corporate man with ambitions, they pointed out. His life is less structured, too, given his freelancing career and gig at the tattoo parlor. He’s definitely a lot more laid-back and more casual than they’re used to.

They were short of remarking that Jungkook’s lifestyle isn’t as stable and secure as what you normally go for, and they wouldn’t be wrong. It’s a thought you’ve had before, and something even he brought up because he didn’t want you thinking that he can’t keep up with you. But you’d been the one to point out to your friends that stability can come in different forms. With how Jungkook has been so dependable and assuring, that’s given you more security than you ever thought.

But it’s not something that’s easy to explain. Maybe your friends could understand. They’ve made careers in different industries, after all, with short term jobs forming part of their resume. But your parents are of a different generation and mindset. Stability for them means one thing, and they raised you to want the same thing in the same way.

Which is why it’s already been three months, and you still haven’t told them about you and Jungkook.

“I started young,” he laughs, pulling you out of your thoughts as he takes your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours. “I used to just choose my moments of romance but with you, I’m romantic all the time.”

“Really? Does being a flirt count as being romantic?” You cock an eyebrow.

Because that’s what he is. He likes to tease and call you out when he affects you. He likes to charm and then edge you until you’re pleading for him to do more.

“Definitely! I mean, I’m out here living my teenage dream, you know?” He winks at you. “Not just anyone gets to say that they’re dating the person they had a crush on when they were 13.”

“Oh god, here we go again,” Jimin groans, earning him a laugh from you and Jungkook.

But even if your brother fake-gags at your not-so private displays of affection, you know deep down that he’s happy for you and his best friend. The two most important people in his life found comfort in each other, and he gets to witness and bask in that.

He also gets to brag that it all happened because of him.

You spend the next hour jamming to all your favorite emo rock songs because Jungkook wasn’t kidding - he really did include all of the ones you had on repeat from your playlist. It takes you back to over 10 years ago of playing the music so loud while you’re in your pajamas, jumping on your bed and singing your lungs out. They don’t really remind you of your ex-boyfriend. That was a short-lived relationship that only really had you appreciating the songs he shared and not much more.

Your boss doesn’t reach out to you until a half hour later. He’s taken to sending you messages instead, and when he does, you’re back to typing away on your laptop, to the displeasure of both men.

They don’t call you out this time and instead leave you be. Until, of course, it hinders you from enjoying yourself.

The car has stopped but you’re still on your laptop, double checking figures. Jimin has stepped out after telling you that he’ll throw your laptop in the ocean if you don’t stop, but Jungkook stays with you inside the car. He bops his head and hums to the music that neither of you could barely hear. He picks on his fingers and yelps at the hangnail he pulls out. He opens the window and shoos away a bug, then hangs out his head to feel the late morning sun.

“Kook, you can go out if you’re bored,” you say, your eyes still glued to your screen. “You don’t have to stay with me here.”

“But I want to,” he responds. “I’m not leaving until you do, not when you said we’re spending the week free from work and stress.”

“I just need to get this done,” you sigh, rechecking your stats for the third time and then aligning the table. “I’ll be finished soon.”

“You said that 15 minutes ago,” he points out, not wanting to sound like he’s complaining, although he might as well be.

“It’s just—”

“You’ve done your part, babe. You’ve encoded the figures and cross-checked the targets and objectives. Writing the rest of that report and formatting it isn’t your job anymore,” Jungkook says. “You weren’t even supposed to do those. You’re not on the clock. You’re on leave, and you deserve this break.”

“I hate that I have to work, too, but it’s not something I just can’t do, not when my boss is calling and expecting me to do all this,” you groan.

You see his eyebrows furrow and you get defensive.

“You know what, nevermind. You work solo, you answer to no one, you don’t have to prove yourself to corporate assholes. You won’t get it.”

You sigh once more and return to reviewing the conclusion, but the sudden silence is unnerving. You glance at Jungkook and see the look on his face - it’s not sadness but disappointment, and it’s one you don’t see very often on him.

You’re about to apologize when he speaks, his voice soft and low, as if speaking is difficult for him.

“I work with so many clients on a daily basis, with more than half of them setting deadlines that they don’t even follow and demanding so many things so yes, I get it,” he says. “But I put my foot down when I need to, because I learned a long time ago that I shouldn’t let people walk all over me. I know you’re up against a lot of things and you may feel like your hands are tied but they aren’t. A break won’t hurt you. And you know you deserve it. We deserve your attention, too.”

Your heart cracks at his words. Even more at the way he looks, as you see that all he wants is to spend time with you. He’s been busy, too. He’s spent the last few nights at his studio, buried deep in his projects because he said he wanted to focus on you this week. And you know that he’ll keep his word like he always does. Jungkook is dedicated to his work but he focuses on you when he says he will. You’re the one not loyal to what you say.

“Kook, I’m—”

“Just do what you have to do,” he interjects, his eyes downcast now. “I’ll be outside with Jimin. Come out when you’re done. You like it here, so don’t worry. We won’t leave until you’ve come down.”

Jungkook exits the car before you can say anything. You watch him walk down the stony path towards the ocean.

You hadn’t even realized you’re here.

You’re at Cheongsapo, with the pebble beach just meters away being one you all went to as kids. Jungkook’s older brother used to drive you here during summer, and you all enjoyed the calmness of the place. You used to bet on who would treat ice cream by playing rounds of stone skipping, with Jimin winning every single time. You remember how you and Jungkook taught each other how to do it, and then tag-teamed against your brother so he could finally treat you both that one time.

Whenever you’d visit Busan during your college breaks, you’d always come down here with your friends, with Jungkook and Jimin in tow. You’d visit at sunset and hold out your sparklers, then navigate the terrain at night and laugh about who tripped and slipped on the way back.

Jungkook’s right. You like this place. It holds so many memories of your youth, and you find yourself constantly reminiscing, as you try to recall his place in your life back then.

You mentally smack yourself. He didn’t deserve your dismissal. He didn’t deserve the way you spoke to him. He’s been trying to help, especially with how busy you’ve been these past several weeks. You were supposed to work from home while you housesat your parents’ house but Jimin convinced you to take your untouched leaves when Jungkook decided to come, and then they both called it a mini-break.

And maybe you need it, considering that all this preoccupation with work has caused you to snap at your boyfriend when all he wanted to do was ease your mind.

So you get out of the car and head to him.

There’s a small forest to pass through and a steep staircase to maneuver, but you manage. You look out to see Jimin already throwing stones and Jungkook standing by, reacting to every gliding pebble on the water. You spare a few seconds to admire him from the back, with his plain white shirt and light gray lounge pants, accentuating a figure that has you weak in the knees. His hands are in his pockets and his slightly long locks are in a half-bun, and he looks every bit of comfort in this place that holds so much of your years growing up.

You walk to where he is and wrap your arms around him from behind. He stills but he doesn’t say anything. You savor his natural scent and the way the tips of his hair tickle your face. You bask in the taut figure that somehow softens under your touch. Once you feel him relax a little, you tilt your head and whisper in his ear.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

He remains quiet and unmoving. All you can hear are the sounds of the waves and Jimin’s cheering from some meters away.

“I just got caught up with work but I’m done with it. It wasn’t right of me to neglect you when I promised I was gonna take a break and spend time with you,” you continue.

Your voice is low and Jungkook could hear your pout. Just a little bit more and he’ll give in.

“You look so hot today and I just want to—”

“Yah!” He whines, finally returning your affection and caressing your arms that are now wrapped around him tightly. “Don’t tease me.”

“Hmm, that caught your attention, huh?” You giggle, lightly kissing his neck.

He shivers at the act, and he laughs at himself for how whipped he is for you, giving in so quickly.

“You know it would,” he huffs, turning around to face you now.

You still have that pout and he just wants to kiss it off you.

“How was walking down the steep staircase?” He asks, knowing that was your only non-favorite thing about this place.

“I tripped on a step but I’m fine,” you proudly smile now.

“You should’ve called me,” he frowns now.

“But you were upset with me!”

“So? Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help you down the stairs and risk you tripping. You know how those steps are. And the pebbles can sometimes be slippery. You can trip here, too, and— what?”

“Nothing. You’re sexy when you’re worried about me,” you say nonchalantly.

“Ugh, come here,” he groans, pulling you in a hug, one that you fall into immediately. “I’ll always worry about you. And I’ll always help you, even if I’m upset.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I’m sorry again. But I’ve laid off the report now. I told Mr. Soo I shall not be disturbed anymore for the rest of my leave.”

“Good,” Jungkook hums, pulling away to face you now. “Because I really want to know what you wanted to do.”

“Ah, many things, Jeon Jungkook,” you smirk. “But I’ll maybe settle for this first.”

You lean in and kiss him - deep enough to have him moan against your lips, and you suddenly can’t wait until you can do more.

“Oh, my eyes!” Jimin squeals, prompting you to look at him with his arm covering his face.

Jungkook only laughs but you scowl at your brother.

“You’re so dramatic,” you roll your eyes. “You’ve seen worse.”

“And I’ve erased that image of my sister and my best friend swallowing each other’s faces from my mind. Please don’t remind me again,” he groans. “But anyway, are you tolerable again?”

“Yes,” you frown. “I think,” you mutter, turning to Jungkook.

“You’re alright,” he teases, before he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. “Now Jimin here wants to reassert his dominance as the stone-skipping king. You game for a match?”

“Do I have a choice?” You cock your eyebrow.

“No. So okay, same rules,” your brother announces. “Loser treats everyone to coffee and pastry. We all know it won’t be me.”

“Brat,” you say under your breath.

But he’s not wrong. He dominates and Jungkook ends up losing. The wink he makes tells you he let you win. And though you like to play fair, you won’t lie and say his teasing smirk definitely turned you on.

You spend the rest of your morning enjoying iced coffee while overlooking the beach, then you head to your favorite seafood restaurant for lunch. You go to your usual market for ingredients for the week, including tonight’s dinner that your mother will be preparing. She wanted to cook for all of you before they flew out, she said, and that got you excited.

It’s refreshing to walk through the streets and spots of your childhood and reminisce with your brother and boyfriend. The memories take on different forms this time, as Jungkook tells you things from his perspective.

You remember that one time you scolded them for sneaking out on a school night and then picking them up at an alley with Jin driving you. Jungkook says he liked how caring and understanding you were then; you said you’d cover for them after flicking their foreheads.

There’s that summer when you got your friends to buy from Jimin and Jungkook’s ice pop stand so they could buy these skateboards that neither of your parents wanted to get for them. Jungkook recalls how you complimented his recipe and told everyone he made them so that they’d praise him, too.

There’s that winter when, after your brother’s begging, you had him and Jungkook join you and your friends’ bonfire night at one of your secret beach spots. Jungkook points out that you always made sure that as the youngest ones there, they were warm and well-fed.

And then there were their sleepovers when you’d join them play video games and watch horror movies in the living room. Jungkook gushes at how pretty you looked and how you’d always prepare them popcorn and drinks. He outs you as the one who puts the blanket over him and Jimin when they fall asleep on the couch.

“I tend to forget a lot of things but I remember when they’re about you,” he mumbles as he starts the drive to your house. “It’s just always stuck with me. Please don’t be weirded out.”

You giggle but assure him that you aren’t. You understand him - there are things and people and moments that naturally stick with you, and they’re the ones you hold dear, too.

He was a kid with a crush and his attention was often on you, and you suppose that given how you’d felt comfortable around him then, it was also maybe natural that you’d feel the same way now that you’re both older. It just so happened that he ended up looking as attractive as he did, and that’s just an added bonus.

Jungkook drops you and Jimin home before he drives three blocks away to his parents’ house. He’ll greet them first before heading to your place, he says, excited for your mom’s cooking that he always enjoyed.

It’s been some time since you last saw them. They don’t always drive out to Seoul, only doing so to watch Jimin’s shows, and you haven’t had time to go home, either. Plus, you had an injured brother to take care of, and he’s also really the topic of every conversation you’ve had with them these past months.

And there are no bad feelings there. He’s had injuries and illnesses that had them worried, and you’re pretty much as unproblematic and predictable as any eldest child could get. You think you’re that monotonous or unexciting, too, and you suppose that just meant they didn’t feel the need to check on you as much as they did with Jimin.

But you express your longing once they offer you their hugs. You say how you miss your mom’s cooking and your dad’s baking, which is code for saying that you’ve missed them, too.

You get your stuff to your room and sigh in relief at the comfort it still gives you. Not much has changed between your double bed, your desk, your beanbag, and the large cork board of photos on your wall. You pin the Polaroids from earlier, deciding to keep the ones of you and Jungkook for your place back in Seoul.

You huff this time, unsure how you’ll open the discussion of you dating your younger brother’s best friend to your parents. They’ve known him since he was a kid; they watched him get into all kinds of trouble with their son, and were there for his milestones, too.

Jungkook was always Jimin’s partner-in-crime; they were two peas in a pod who went through everything together. Now it’s you and him and you don’t really know how they’ll take it.

But you brush it off for now and think it’s a conversation for later, or maybe when they come back from their trip. You intended on telling them in person, which is why they’re still in the dark. It’s just a matter of how you’ll say it.

You head downstairs and take in the scent of seafood soft tofu stew. The two boys are already at the kitchen counter, munching on the rolled omelet that they shouldn’t even be having yet. But your mom lets them, as Jimin talks about his new agency and shows videos of him doing some choreographies.

You stand next to Jungkook, who sneakily feeds you. You don’t know why you get flustered at the act, even more when he whispers in your ear.

“So, I finally get to see your room with your permission,” he cheekily smiles. “I promised Jimin a few rounds of Overwatch before going to you.”

You merely laugh and tell him that your dad’s asking him something.

“So, Jungkook. How has work been? Jimin tells us you’ve been getting more projects recently,” your old man asks.

“Ah, yes, uncle,” he responds. “I’m getting more clients and exposure now. It took a while but it’s all going well.”

“That’s good. Although I always wondered why you never thought of joining a firm. Doesn’t that mean a more consistent client base? And better for you financially, too.”

“Well, I get to choose my clients and my projects as a freelancer,” Jungkook explains. “I control my time. And it allows me to take appointments at the tattoo parlor.”

“Oh, right, your hobby,” your dad nods. “I guess having multiple sources of income is the new trend these days.”

Jungkook just hums in agreement, already used to your dad’s frame of thought when it comes to a career. So are you, because it’s often the first thing he picks up on with your boyfriends. Each of your partners just happened to be working in corporate so there was never this line of questioning followed by an awkward silence.

But Jungkook is just your brother’s best friend, as far as they know. You wonder how they’d react once you finally tell them the truth.

You don’t completely fault your dad, though. It’s less about judgment and more about practicality. He and your mom came from the generation that believed survival and security mattered more than passion. They always thought the latter could come later on in life, which is why they opened their own cafe not long ago, at a time when they were already pretty secure. You suppose it’s his way of looking out for you, which is why he’s always been concerned about your partner’s occupation.

The conversation changes, as the focus now turns to your parents and what they’ve been up to. You assist your mom in the kitchen while the men hang around, helping when they’re called upon. Jungkook stands near you, asking if you need him and attempting to feed you with a dumpling this time, but you manage to feed yourself and he merely looks at you in understanding.

Dinner is finally ready and you all head to the dining table. You take the seat next to your mom, across from Jungkook, and he looks at you curiously but you offer him an apologetic smile. You only told him that you’ll tell your parents about your relationship in person, which you planned on doing.

That is, until your parents bring up your friends.

“Sweetie, Jin’s son is so adorable,” your mom chirps. “I saw the pictures on Facebook and the little one took after his father so much. I can imagine how happy he and his wife are.”

The topic of your dear friend and his family injects energy into you. You say how Jin’s been bragging about his mini-me but that the nursery you helped put together looks so beautiful. You were all there when his wife gave birth a few weeks ago and though you’re still unsure about having kids, you won’t deny how much it warmed your heart when Seo-yoon’s tiny fingers wrapped around your thumb. It’s not something you say though, as your mom eventually mentions Na-eun and her fiancé.

“I read that he’s been promoted as Director of their company,” she says.

Your dad pipes in that So-Hee’s new boyfriend is apparently the son of one of his former colleagues, and you’re quite frankly over the conversations about your friends’ partners. The insinuations aren’t lost on you.

“How do you even know these things?” You groan.

“Facebook,” your mom replies. “Of course I’m friends with all your friends. And it’s nice to know how well they’re doing since we don’t get to see them much anymore. You’ve reached that age of settling down, after all.”

“I guess,” you hum, no longer interested in the conversation. Jimin’s roll of his eyes tells you he feels the same. “Lots of good things are happening for them.”

You don’t mean to sound bitter and you aren’t. You adore your friends and genuinely love that things are looking out for them. You’re not the same person from months ago who felt lost and falling behind amongst them. Sure, things could be better career-wise, but you haven’t felt this much security in yourself and your relationship until Jungkook. Explaining why is a different thing altogether.

“What about you?” Your dad asks. “I know we’ve been calling every week to ask about your brother but we haven’t been checking in on you. I’m sorry, dear,” he continues, his eyes softening. “Is there anything new in your life?”

If the earlier conversations hadn’t happened, perhaps you’d willingly hint on the newest thing in your life, which is the relationship you have with the man currently looking at you with his doe-eyes in anticipation.

But they did, and you know mentioning your friends’ partners was their way of subtly pressuring you about being with someone of similar stature. And you’re not really in the mood for that right now.

So you end up doing the stupidest thing you possibly could, and that’s to lie.

“Not really,” you say, hating the prolonged silence that follows.

And as you look at Jungkook across from you, you see his face fall, and you hate even more that it’s because of you.

Your lack of a follow-up prompts your parents to move on. They know that when you’re in the mood to talk, you will and when you’re quite passive, it means you aren’t.

Your mom turns to Jungkook instead and asks him what else he’s up to other than his various jobs and looking after Jimin. He looks at you before his gaze shifts towards them.

“Not much else, auntie,” he replies.

The crack of your heart knows you completely messed up, because if it stings like this, then you know it hurt him even more.

“Oh, is there no one special in your life?” She asks, as she often does. Given that she treats Jungkook as part of the family, she’s lost all filter when it comes to him, too. “I recently met with my friend and her daughter. She’s such a lovely young woman, Kook, she’s brilliant and oh so charming. She’s in Busan for the week, too. Do you want to—”

“Is it time for dessert?” Jimin butts in, not wanting this conversation to continue.

He knows Jungkook wouldn’t know how to turn your mother down, and if he even slightly entertains the idea to appease her, you’d be the one upset, even if you technically put this upon yourself. Jimin already sees you a bit uncomfortable, and if there’s anything he can do to not make this worse for you and his best friend, it’s to be a brat.

“Oh, yes. Your father made an apple pie and some ice cream,” she says. “Let me—”

“I’ll get it,” you offer, standing up from your seat now.

You don’t want to know what your mom’s other propositions would be. You’re sure she’ll find some person’s son to match you with, given that she’s done that a few times after your breakup with Namjoon. You’re also not ready for Jungkook to agree with her about meeting someone, even if you know he won’t mean it.

Which is really stupid because if you’d just told them the truth, then you’ll be having a completely different conversation, although you’re unsure if you’re ready for that one, too. But at least Jungkook wouldn’t look as upset as he does right now, as he’s resorted to picking on his food instead of finishing it, which tells you that he’s lost his appetite and that’s never a good thing.

You go to the kitchen to slice the pie and scoop the ice cream. You do it so slowly to lengthen the time before you’re back there, only because you don’t want to know what else they’re talking about.

You’re in the middle of cursing yourself when you feel the sting of a tiny pinch on your arm, and you yelp in pain and smack your brother’s chest in reflex.

“Ow!” You yell, frowning at the man before you and ignoring your mother’s order to “behave,” even if they’re used to you two quarreling.

“You deserve that,” Jimin scowls at you. “Because what the fuck was that?!”

“I know,” you sigh, glancing at Jungkook who’s trying his best to be interested in what your parents are saying. “I… froze. You know what they wanted to hear, Chim. All those things about my friends’ boyfriends and what they do? I just didn’t want them to compare them to what Jungkook does if I tell them.”

“Why, what’s wrong with what he does?” Your brother raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing. It’s just… you know how focused they are on career stability and shit like that,” you try to explain. “You heard what dad was telling him earlier. I just didn’t want Jungkook to hear any underhanded comments from them and then feel bad about it.”

“And you think denying that you’re dating is any better?” He chides. “That’s literally worse!”

“I—”

“Jungkook knows how our parents are. And after you got together, he already anticipated that they’d question how he’ll be able to sustain your life together once you told them about your relationship,” Jimin explains. “He was ready for it. I doubt he anticipated this…”

You stand there, the crack in your heart getting deeper and bigger as the seconds pass. You hadn’t realized that Jungkook was already confiding in Jimin about any concerns he’d have about facing your parents. You suppose he would, given that you said you’d tell them when you saw them the one time that Jungkook asked if they knew, and you didn’t raise it again after. Living in your bubble together seemed more important, and you’d forgotten to mentally prepare yourself for this conversation.

“Chim, I fucked up,” you pout.

If it were about anything else, Jimin would push it. It’s how you always were, and you’ve reached that point in your relationship where you could call each other out and know it comes from a good place. But he doesn’t want to do this today, not when you’re already sad and guilty and he doesn’t want you to feel worse. He doesn’t want to take sides, even if he’ll admit that you were in the wrong, but he doesn’t want to antagonize you either.

“Hey,” he nudges your arm. “It’s not the end of the world. You’re both gonna figure it out. I don’t know how hard he’ll take this but he’s a really soft-hearted person, so just… keep that in mind, okay?”

You nod, wanting to believe that you’ll be able to fix it.

“And don’t hate yourself too much,” your brother adds. “He’s really, really into you. I just know he won’t be able to resist you.”

You nod again but you think that just makes it worse. You doubt he expected that out of all the people to disappoint him, it would be you. Yet here you are.

You and Jimin return to the table with the plated desserts. You hand one to Jungkook but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He doesn’t meet your eyes either when it’s all you try to do. He peacefully eats his apple pie while you feign interest at your parents talking about their recent weekend at a spa.

When everyone’s done, he helps Jimin clean up. It’s how you know that Jungkook’s considered part of the family, as your parents don’t stop him from doing so, unlike when it comes to other guests or your friends.

You watch helplessly as he washes the dishes, turning down your offer to help. You take the rest of the plates and walk towards him instead, standing close so you could place them in the sink. He just moves his arms to give you space then returns to his task, not sparing you a glance.

You stay with your parents in the dining area to talk about their trip. They leave you with important documents and give you instructions should anything bad happen to them while they’re away, as they always do whenever they go on a trip. Everything is your responsibility as the eldest, they remind you.

They finally go to their room to continue packing and you sit on the corner of the couch where Jimin and Jungkook have just finished watching some video of a guy reacting to other videos. You constantly glance at your boyfriend but he seems to be intent on not giving you attention because he’s not like this - he always wants to be close to you, needing his hand to be touching your arm or your thigh or even your hair, and his pretty eyes locked on you. But not tonight.

You recall how months ago, you avoided him because of what you started to feel. And perhaps this is how he felt then - helpless, unsure, and desperate for you to be next to him again.

You find the tiniest bit of courage and call out his name, hoping he’d at least turn to you this time.

“Kook, I’m—”

“Hey, we should probably play now so we finish early,” Jungkook nudges Jimin’s knee. “It’s been a long day; I don’t really want to stay up late.”

Your brother looks at you in apology as he responds to the man on his left in agreement. They both head up, leaving you rooted in your seat, wishing that Jungkook would turn around to tell you that he doesn’t mean creating this distance, but he doesn’t.

And you wouldn’t blame him. You’d stay away from you, too.

You end up watching Aliens on your own, crouched on your corner of the couch with the large blanket over you. You give up after an hour, once the movie starts getting intense and scary though. There’s no Jungkook to hold you during the jumpscares, or to tease you about your screaming, or to assure you that he’ll protect you from all types of monsters.

There’s no Jungkook next to you but you want him there, and it’s another half hour later when you decide that you’re not going to bed without speaking to him.

You hate sleeping sad and upset. You don’t like ending the day not being on good terms with him. There are so many things you want to tell him but more than anything, you just want to hold him close. He always said he liked that, because even during the times when there’s so much to say or feel, falling into each other’s arms is the easiest thing to do. It says enough. It shows enough. And you’ve both survived misunderstandings and stressful moments by holding each other, and then holding each other closer.

Walking up the stairs and towards Jimin’s room, the nerves kick in. Jungkook has been ignoring you the whole evening and you’re unsure if he’s willing to hear you out.

But you try, as you knock on the door, your heart beating fast when it slowly opens. Your brother’s downcast eyes meet you and you don’t need to say anything else.

He opens the door wider then turns to the man lying on a mattress on the floor.

“Kook, my sister’s looking for you.”

You glance at him, dressed in that black tank top that always made you breathless, but once again, he avoids your gaze. But he does stand up after a nudge on the foot from your brother and walks over to you.

“Can we, uh…” you gesture towards the room just across the hallway.

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t shut you out, which is a good thing. You take it as your cue to start walking and you hear his footsteps right behind you.

You let him in then close the door behind him. There’s so much you want to say, like you’re sorry and that you were stupid, that you didn’t mean to deny him but that you didn’t know how to tell your parents, or what you were even nervous about. You want to say that you just want to spend tonight wrapped up in his arms and apologizing in all the ways that you can.

But instead of uttering the words, your throat dries up. Seeing him standing there with that upset and disinterested look on his face breaks you a little. So you reach out, your hands pressing gently on his chest to try to feel him, to be close to him, hopefully to hold him and make your mistake go away.

“Kook, I…” you tremble, trying so hard to find the words.

Jungkook looks back at you, your face nervous and unsure, unlike his that’s probably still painted with disappointment.

He still doesn’t know what to make of your denial. He’s been trying to see things from your point of view all evening, but doing so only in his head because verbalizing them, especially to his best friend, makes it sting a bit more. Maybe Jimin can explain on your behalf but that would just confirm to Jungkook one of two things - that you don’t really intend on telling your parents about both of you for whatever reason he can’t comprehend, or you don’t think he measures up to their expectations and for that, you might just think he’s not good enough for you.

He doesn’t think he’s ready for that, so he shuts Jimin down when he asks. They watched videos earlier to have something to laugh about but he was faking it. He suggested playing a game just so he wouldn’t respond to you calling him earlier but all they’ve done since going to the room is lie in silence.

Jungkook doesn’t want to talk about it with his best friend. And he certainly doesn’t want to talk about it with you. He doesn’t want an explanation right now. It’s not what he wants to hear.

And it seems as if it’s something you’re even struggling to give him, as you stand there quivering, your hands slowly trying to pull him closer to you.

It’s what you usually do when you can’t find the words to express something - when you’re stressed and frustrated, when you want to patch things up after a small misunderstanding, when you want his comfort. And he always loved it when you did. He always willingly gave you that hug and that kiss and those whispers of “it’s okay” and “we’re okay” and “I’m just here.”

But not tonight, not when there’s this unnamed thing that’s eating him inside, and not even you can fix it.

“I don’t… I don’t really wanna do this right now,” he mutters, taking your hands to slowly slide them off him.

The look of hurt in your eyes is one that’ll probably haunt him for a while, but he’ll learn to deal with that. It’s better than talking with you about something that you don’t even know how to express.

This isn’t like him. It’s not like him to be upset at you like this, to not want to comfort you, to not want to be around you. This messes him up, too, and all he can do is step away and walk out.

He doesn’t really wanna be here, he thinks to himself as he enters the room just across, to the surprise of Jimin who half expected both of you to have made up. Jungkook would go home if he only brought his keys and it wasn’t too late to ask his parents to open the door for him.

But his best friend’s floor mattress will do for now. And so Jungkook puts on his earpods and plays whatever music is loud enough to shut out the thought of you until he falls asleep.

In the other room, you lay in your bed in complete silence. You don’t want to cry, only because he’s not there to wipe your tears away. And you don’t ever want to know what that’s like, so you don’t. You keep the tears at bay and force yourself to drift away.

You jerk awake the next morning to your mother knocking on your door. You promised to do errands with her today, so you get off the bed and yell out that you’ll just fix up.

“No rush, dear. I’m still having breakfast with your father. You can join us when you’re ready.”

You head down and eat the pastries that they brought from the cafe. You don’t have much appetite and these will suffice, but your mind goes to Jungkook and how he was craving kimchi fried rice and spam yesterday.

So that’s what you make for him and Jimin. You even prepare iced coffee the way they like it. You’re about to set the dish aside for them to heat up when you hear rushed footsteps down the stairs and you know they’ve woken up.

“Wahhh, it smells so good,” Jimin exclaims as he walks over to the counter while his best friend sits on the table. “Did you make something, dad?”

“Oh, your sister cooked for you and Jungkook,” your father hums. “It’s making me hungry now.”

“There’s still some in here if you want,” you call out, with him responding that he’ll get some later.

You serve the dish in two bowls. You hand one to Jimin and then place the other in front of Jungkook without sparing him a glance.

“Iced coffee is in the refrigerator,” you tell them.

You hear Jimin’s little squeal before he gets them. “Where you off to?” He asks.

“I’m running errands with mom.”

“Make sure you two make it in time for dinner, okay?” Your father says.

“Of course. I can’t miss your steak, dad,” you give him a small smile.

“Good. I prepared meat good enough for five Actually, six. I count Jungkook as two people,” he laughs.

The thought of this comfort and familiarity hurts you because you’re the one who made Jungkook think otherwise. You see him smile at your father’s remark but you turn away when he looks your way. You know he’s still upset and you don’t want to force it if he’s not yet ready to speak with you. You also haven’t gotten over the way he pulled away from you last night, and so looking at him today is a little difficult.

“You’re still joining us at the party, right?” Jimin asks.

Their friend, Hari, whom you know briefly dated Jungkook in high school, is celebrating her birthday tonight. Their group always looked to you as the cool sister so you’re always invited to whatever they’ve got going, and while the three of you talked about attending later, after what you did, you doubt Jungkook would want you to spoil his evening. You’re also not exactly in the partying mood for obvious reasons.

“I’ll pass, Chim,” you respond. “You guys should have a best friend night.”

You go back to your room to fix up before joining your mother to head out.

Back in the dining room, Jimin nudges Jungkook’s knee.

“She’s still playing favorites,” he playfully rolls his eyes as he gestures to the generous amount of spam in his best friend’s bowl compared to his decent serving.

Jungkook just hums, guilt forming that he didn’t even thank you for this because he really has been craving it. Before any of them could say anything more, your father speaks up.

“Your sister okay, son?”

“Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t she be?” Jimin nervously answers.

“She just doesn’t seem like herself, that’s all,” your old man replies.

“Maybe it’s work. It’s been tough lately,” your brother reasons.

“But she’s more tired and frustrated when it comes to work but that’s not what she is. Maybe it’s a guy.”

At this, Jungkook chokes on his food, and he’s glad your father doesn’t react.

“What makes you think so?” Jimin asks, his eyes flitting to his best friend.

“Hmm, it just seems different,” your father insists. “Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my end. She hasn’t introduced anyone since Namjoon. And I wish she would, just so we know she’s moved on, you know? And that the breakup isn’t still hurting her.”

“She has, and it doesn’t affect her anymore,” Jimin confirms, certain of at least that bit.

“Then why hasn’t she introduced anyone yet?”

“Maybe it’s because you really liked Namjoon, and he seems to be your standard so ___ is just probably just taking her time.”

“Well it’s because he’s smart and stable and very self-assured and—”

“Also very much married. And a soon-to-be father,” Jimin interjects, already being protective of you.

He wonders now if this is how your parents talk about him to you, and that you’ve always just protected him from all of it.

“Oh,” your father sighs. “It could’ve been her.”

“But it isn’t and that’s totally fine,” Jimin exclaims. “She’s young and she’s got time. And who knows, maybe that’s not the life she wants, or at least not yet? If you could accept my version of happiness, you should be able to accept hers, too. And what does ‘stable’ even mean?”

“Someone with ambition, with a direction,” your old man explains. “Someone who’s secure and financially capable of sustaining this good life that your mom and I gave you both.”

“Those are all the things she is, too, you know?” Jimin frowns. “And also, I love you, dad, but you’re old. By that I mean your thinking is old. It’s outdated. You think stability is about prestige and money and I get that but… that’s not everything. There are other things that matter to her and if you lessened the pressure a bit, you’d see that. She’s your daughter, don’t you want her to be happy? To be loved?”

“Of course I do,” your father sighs.

“Well then don’t let your version of what a good partner is dictate her life,” Jimin advises. “She’s a grown up, she knows what she wants and how to get it. But she’s also your daughter who doesn’t want to worry or disappoint you. What if she’s found someone who makes her happy and treats her right but she’s nervous of what you’d think because of all these expectations you have of her?”

Jimin’s eyes flit to his best friend again who’s quietly munching on his food but is clearly taking in this exchange. While Jimin still thinks you were wrong to deny your relationship, he at least hopes that Jungkook could understand what was going through your mind and it was all this.

“Well if she has then I’d want to meet him,” your father insists.

“And maybe you will, once she stops feeling the pressure of what she’s supposed to be for you and who she’s supposed to date,” Jimin explains.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, dad,” Jimin groans. “I lived with her for months and she just… she worries about a lot of things. It would be nice if she doesn’t worry about this. So please, stop with all the projections and underhanded remarks, okay? She sees right through you. Just let her live her life.”

A smile forms on your father’s face. It was never his intention to put all that pressure on you but he supposes you just accepted that it comes with the territory. But he realizes it shouldn’t be. His son’s right - he’s old. He and your mother worked hard so that you and your brother could have a life where you didn’t have to worry about anything, but he supposes the intention got muddled along the way. At least you and Jimin have each other.

“I know you and your sister don’t like to admit it but it’s really touching to see how similar you both are,” your father says.

“Excuse me, I’m cooler and funnier and definitely more talented,” Jimin pouts.

“Maybe,” your old man laughs. “But she’s sat on that same chair, lecturing me and your mom about letting you live your life and now you’re doing the same. She’s your biggest advocate and your biggest protector. It’s just nice to see how you’re the same for her.”

Running errands with your mother has always been your responsibility, but it’s once you’ve hit your late-twenties mark that you’ve come to appreciate it.

You learn a lot about the practical stuff like insurance and emergency funds and inheritance when you accompany her to the bank. You’re also reminded that sometimes you have to spend more to make things last when she drops off her clothes at the laundry service and picks up the bag and shoes she had professionally cleaned. You also remember the important things like buying flowers and leaving them on your grandparents’ graves.

You’ve just left the shopping center after she bought your father an anniversary gift, and her excitement over the satchel and perfume she got him has you smiling. You wonder how differently she feels for him 30 years later, and if this life they have together is everything she imagined it to be.

“Was it hard at the beginning? Being married to dad?” You ask.

“Of course, dear,” she answers. “Because it’s how marriages typically go. Your father and I were together for two years before we got married and it was a big change. You just… learn to consider another person, and you get used to someone always being around you.”

“It’s a good thing you can stand each other then,” you chuckle.

“That’s true,” she laughs back. “You’d be surprised to know how many married couples can’t. But we just always managed. And we had to be on each other’s side, you know? It’s the reason why we’ve lasted as long as we have.”

She looks quite emotional as she says the words and it’s probably because of what they’ll be celebrating soon but she turns to you with a smile.

“Your father’s parents wanted me to become a housewife, a stay-at-home mom who just ran the household,” she continues. “But I wanted to work so I could help my parents, and your father stood by my decision. He saw how working gave him financial freedom and he wanted that for me, too. And we just… worked hard. We fought a lot at the start because we were building our careers and raising a family but we knew it would all be worth it, as long as we stood by each other.”

“Then I suppose that’s what’s important in a partner, isn’t it?” You say. “Being dependable, being supportive, not… not what kind of career they have.”

“Well, a stable career helps,” she points out. “I mean, it’s how your father and I got to afford sending you and your brother to good schools. It’s how we could afford trips as a family and how your father and I can be secure at this age without needing much help from our children.”

“But that’s also because you worked hard, plain and simple. And you and dad had each other and overcame whatever challenges you faced together. You can’t say the same for all married couples,” you push.

“That’s true. I mean, it wasn’t like this during our parents’ time. I guess people had less options then. The world’s changed so much, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” you hum. “Not everyone cares much about their partner’s upward mobility and stuff like that. They want to savor the good life their parents gave them. And because they work hard, too, they just want someone to enjoy it with them. You know, like me.”

There’s a beat of silence as your mother processes your words.

“Is that why it didn’t work out with Namjoon?” She asks, reminding you that you’d only given them a general reason as to why things ended.

“We spent too much time planning for our future that we kinda lost our way,” you explain. “I guess that’s when I realized that I wanted someone to enjoy the moments with, regardless of what they do for a living. And we’ll never know what life will throw our way and I need someone who’ll stand by me, the way I’ll stand by them. You know, cheesy things like that.”

You smile to yourself as you think about Jungkook and his shameless affection that he shows in so many ways. You enjoy the cheesiness but you’ll deny it first before admitting it. But then again, he probably knows already. He pays attention to you after all.

“Well, I suppose that’s why we wanted to give you and your brother a good and secure life, so that you can enjoy it,” your mother hums.

“Exactly. You raised us well, mom. We’re not gonna throw our lives away, however we choose to live it, and with whom,” you assure her.

She gives you a warm smile. She takes your hand at the stoplight and caresses it. Perhaps it’s the assurance you need, too.

You return home to your father preparing the meat for tonight’s dinner. There’s a platter of steak, vegetables, and sausages that he’s seasoning to grill, and you can imagine how happy this is gonna make Jungkook. He always liked it when your dad prepared dishes like this paired with your mom’s spicy chicken soup, and you wish you could enjoy it together.

But you’re giving him space to feel what he feels and you’re doing the same, even if all you want to do is apologize. You haven’t had an issue quite like this, so things are a little unfamiliar to you. You tried to talk to him last night but he wasn’t ready, and you’re unsure when he will be.

You head towards the counter and cut up the vegetables for the soup before slicing the fruits. You’re focused on your task, knowing how sharp the knives are, but it’s at the same time that your brother and Jungkook arrive. Seeing your boyfriend look as good as he does in that denim jacket-over tank top fit is so sinful; it’s a crime you’re not talking that it distracts you, and it’s what causes you to slice through your finger and yelp in pain.

“Did you hurt yourself, dear?” Your mom asks as she stirs the pot.

“Yeah,” you say, placing your hand under running water.

You’re about to ask Jimin to get the First Aid kit from the drawer but Jungkook gets to it first, knowing where it is.

He knows that your brother, who’s terrified of blood, won’t help you, and despite your situation, Jungkook can’t stand not helping. So he lathers an antiseptic once the bleeding has stopped, then he wraps a band-aid around it. Just like him, you focus your gaze on your finger. Or maybe you’re stuck on the way he tends to you. Or the fact that this is the most physical touch you’ve done this past day when you normally can’t take your hands off each other.

He sighs to himself. If he wasn’t so hung up on his hurt feelings, he’d be able to tend to you better. This might not even have happened if he’d just spoken to you last night.

But he shakes the thought away. He’s still upset. But he’ll always want to take care of you; that’s the one thing that won’t ever change.

“Thank you,” you mumble, still not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll do this,” he says, waiting for you to step aside before he takes your place.

“Jungkook dear, do you mind helping me with the glazed potatoes after you finish that?” She asks.

“Sure thing, auntie,” he replies.

You watch him work around the kitchen the way he’s done so many times before, and your heart stings at the sight because you want to be doing this with him, with your parents, in your family kitchen. But it’s not like you could talk to him right now, not when you don’t know how to say what you want to say. So you head outside to where your dad is grilling the meat and help him instead.

It’s not long after when dinner is ready, and you’re seated across Jungkook again. It’s a little tense when you look at him when he looks away, but Jimin thankfully finds a way to keep the conversation light and focused on him.

Your parents insist that both men don’t need to help clean up, and Jimin asks you if you’re really not going.

“Yeah I’ll just… stay home, make sure mom and dad are packed well and just get everything in order for tomorrow,” you say, half lying.

“Gee, you make me look like a useless child,” Jimin pouts.

“You’re alright,” you hum. “You can drive them to the airport tomorrow.”

“But mom asked Jungkook to do that.”

“Well then you could just… make them a card or something,” you shrug.

Your brother sticks his tongue at you and you do the same.

“Fine, we’ll head out,” he announces.

“You guys have fun,” you say softly, glancing at Jungkook before walking towards the sink to do your duty.

You turn to your brother. “Call me if you need me to pick you up. No driving drunk, okay?”

He salutes you in response then heads out after Jungkook.

It’s uneventful after that. You help your parents with last minute packing then have a long shower. You lie on your bed and mindlessly watch some movie on your laptop hoping that you’ll fall asleep soon, and that when you wake up, you’ll find the strength to go to Jungkook and tell him that you’re sorry and that you don’t want to go another day without him.

“Hey, Jungkook. Dance with me.”

Jungkook looks up to find Hari and gives the same answer he’s given the last two times.

“Sorry, I’m injured,” he says.

She raises her eyebrow as if she doesn’t believe him and he can’t blame her; he doesn’t exactly know how to act like it.

“Oh, Jimin. There you are,” she chirps as the said man approaches the table. “Dance with me.”

“Sorry, I'm injured.”

“Great. It’s my birthday and I spot two hot guys in this party without girls around them and they’re fake injured,” she scowls. “What’s up with you two?”

“I’m not in the mood,” Jungkook shrugs.

“I’m babysitting,” Jimin says, gesturing at his friend. “But Mingyu and Eunwoo are right there. Go tell them to dance with you.”

“Fine. I’ll get in line then,” she rolls her eyes then walks away.

“How come no one believes me when I say I’m injured?” Jungkook asks as he munches on the fried chicken wings his best friend got.

“Because you’re a terrible actor. People believe me because I’m believable,” Jimin hums.

“They believe you because you posted all over social media that you hurt your ankle,” Jungkook corrects.

“Yeah but that was like, half a year ago.”

“Why are you even pretending you’re injured? You don’t have to stay with me, you know? Go to the dance floor and have fun. That’s your thing.”

“Well, maybe I’m also not in the mood because my best friend’s sulking,” Jimin frowns.

“Gee, I wonder why.”

“You know my sister’s sorry, right?”

“She’s ashamed, that’s what she is. And I’m just supposed to live with that.”

Jimin sighs as he watches his best friend mindlessly stare out onto the dance floor. Jungkook’s probably trying to rid himself of the image of both of you dancing and kissing and having fun if you were here. He could be making sense of what he feels, or his mind could also just be completely blank right now.

But what Jimin knows is that another glass of whiskey is something that Jungkook shouldn’t be having, so he stops his best friend from ordering another one.

“You might get drunk and then you’ll call or go see her and then you’ll say things you’ll regret and then you’ll hurt her and you’ll get even more hurt and you’ll have a harder time fixing things and then it just won’t stop and you’ll feel stupid because you’re not talking over something you could easily fix,” Jimin heaves.

It’s a lot to process but Jungkook knows that Jimin’s right. He’ll just get too emotional and won’t be able to control himself and despite what he feels, hurting you is the last thing he wants.

So he orders water instead, finishes it, then heads for the door.

“I don’t wanna be here anymore,” he says. “I need to get some air.”

They end up at a park, the one that you used to hang at with your friends in high school. Jungkook knows because he always accompanied Jimin there when you’d tell him where to meet you. It’s peaceful at this time of night and much more beautiful, too. It’s no surprise he keeps thinking that you’re right next to him, with your head on his chest and laughing at his jokes.

“Why is this affecting me so much?” He wonders out loud. “Why am I so hurt and so stubborn?”

“Because she said something she shouldn’t have. But also because you put her on a pedestal,” Jimin answers. “She made a mistake, and you’re free to fault her for it. I mean, anytime someone we care about hurts us, it sucks like hell. But you also have to think that maybe it’s affecting you as much as it does because she’s always been faultless in your eyes and she isn’t.”

The reality is a slap on the face, but one that Jungkook thinks he needs to have. You were everything he ever wanted and these past three months have been a bliss. But now that reality hits and you have to face the pressure that’s part of your life, your humanness is showing. And that’s what he’s always liked about you, isn’t it? The imperfections and the flaws? Now that those are affecting him, it’s affecting him hard, and he’s having a hard time getting over it.

“Maybe once you accept that she’s human and not just the dream you’ve had since forever, then you’ll realize that things like that happen but she never means to hurt you,” Jimin adds. “You can’t think that she does. You learn to work it out by facing it, Kook. You have to talk about it. You have to tell her it hurts and you have to listen to what she says, and then you forgive. That’s kind of how grownup relationships go.”

“Guess I’ve never had one before, huh?”

“Maybe they just didn’t mean enough to hurt you.”

“This means everything, then,” Jungkook sighs, as things get clearer in his mind. “Because I think what hurts more now is not being next to her.”

“Great! Then can both of you patch things up now?” Jimin beams, feeling hopeful. “I hate seeing both of you sad and so stupid. Plus, my parents are leaving tomorrow and you won’t have a buffer anymore. So please just talk.”

Jungkook admits feeling touched. He knows at the end of the day, Jimin cares about him and you more than anyone, and he probably misses being around both of you at the same time. Jungkook does, too, but he misses you the most and it’s only been a day.

“Tomorrow,” he says. “I don’t know what to tell her and it’s late. She might be asleep and—”

“Now you’re just making excuses,” Jimin crosses his arms.

“Well, what if I expect her to be the one to talk to me?”

“She tried but you didn’t want to, remember?”

“That was last night. The wound was still fresh,” Jungkook pouts.

“Oh god. I feel like I’m dealing with children,” Jimin groans.

“Imagine how we felt taking care of you,” Jungkook answers back.

“At least I was just one person,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Your dramatics were equivalent to two people though.”

Both men bicker as they walk back to the car. It started to drizzle so they decided to go back to their respective homes. Jungkook could stay over at your place and maybe talk to you if he really wants to but he’s seriously just chickening out over it.

He’s never had to make up with you because none of your previous arguments ever led to you not talking to each other, or him pushing you away. He’s never had to spend a day ignoring you. And now, there’s so much to say and so much to feel but he doesn’t know how to approach it. He’ll need tonight to sort himself out and then he’ll speak to you, maybe after he drives your parents to the airport. Or maybe on the way back.

He drops Jimin off; 30 seconds later, he’s home, too. You’re so close but so far away just like you used to be. But at least this time he knows that when the next day comes, he’ll have a chance to just pull you close and tell you he doesn’t want to be like this ever again.

There’s an incessant knocking on your door, and as you’re about to yell out that you’re asleep, you realize it might be Jungkook. You sit up on your bed and when the door opens and you see your brother instead, your face falls.

“It’s just me, unfortunately,” he says. “Kook’s back at his place.”

“Oh,” you sigh. “Why are you home so early? It’s like, 11.”

“Because after the third girl, his fake injury excuse wore off and people just didn’t believe him. We looked like losers sitting on the table eating chicken,” Jimin chuckles. “So we left after an hour then went to a park and I knocked some sense into him and now he’s not so upset anymore. And I’m here to knock some sense into you, too.”

“I already know I made a mistake, Chim. I’m… I’m so fucking stupid. I just… don’t want him to think that I’m ashamed of him or that I don’t think he’s enough or any of that. I mean I’m—”

“Crazy about him, right?”

“I kinda am,” you smile softly.

“Good, because so is he and he’s hoping you’d go talk to him even if he says he’ll talk to you tomorrow. Don’t waste time anymore and—”

You’re bolting off your bed and putting on your hoodie before your brother could finish his sentence.

“If mom and dad look for me, tell them I—”

“Got attacked by a clown in the sewer.”

You look at him incredulously then realize you’re wearing yellow then you frown.

“Just make up some excuse. I’ll… hopefully be back in the morning,” you say.

“Alright. It’s drizzling though so—”

And just like that, you’re gone.

It takes all but 10 seconds for the rain to pour, and your hoodie and sweatpants are no match for it. You groan at your brother for underselling the weather but then again, you also should be thanking him for telling you what you needed to hear - that Jungkook’s not so upset anymore and that he’s hoping you’d speak to him.

Much as you think you would’ve taken any chance today to patch things up, you also would’ve frozen in front of him. You suppose you needed to know he was ready for you, and if he wouldn’t tell you, then of course, Jimin would. You just really wish he had the foresight to know it would rain this hard but you’re probably asking for too much.

But Jungkook’s place is just a few blocks from yours so you power through. When you get there, you realize that you forgot your phone, so you make the stupid decision of climbing over the short fence and then hitting your cut finger in the process.

You have no time to feel pain though, as the next order of business is getting Jungkook’s attention. But before you can execute your plan of throwing rocks on his window, the front door opens, and you telepathically thank your brother who probably called your boyfriend to alert him that you’ll be arriving at his place wet from the rain.

“___, what are you doing here?” Jungkook asks with worry painted on his face.

“I just… I needed to come and see you,” you manage to answer.

His face softens and you feel the hope bloom in your chest. He pulls you inside by the wrist and instructs you to quietly go up the stairs. You’re at least not drenched but you still got wet, so he leads you to the bathroom to wash up. He tells you to wait as he gets you something to change in, and he returns after half a minute with a towel and a large shirt.

“Cream and band-aid, for your wound,” he says, placing them on the counter. “My room’s the second door to the right, in case you forgot.”

You take him in, in his black tank top and shorts, his tongue playing with his lip ring the way he always does when he’s nervous. You manage to nod before he heads out, and you take a quick shower and then pull his oversized shirt over you.

You quietly walk to his room, knocking on the door first before opening it slowly. It’s a bit dim but seeing him is all you need. After placing your clothes on the nearby chair, you look at him again.

He looks tired and worried. He also looks like he has so much to say but he doesn’t know where to start. There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes but there’s longing, too, and you suppose he’s mirroring how you look. You feel a lot. You also want to say a lot, but you don’t know where or how to start.

So you do the one thing you know often works. You approach him then wrap your arms around his torso. You fall into his embrace as quickly as he falls into yours, as he seems to have the same idea. You hold him tighter and pull him closer. You flush your cheeks on his chest while he buries his face on your neck. You grip his top and he does the same with yours. Your heart beats fast in longing and you feel his own do the same, too.

There’s so much to feel and say but this is all you can do. And right now, it’s quite enough.

You loosen your grip, but only so you could nuzzle his neck while your arms wrap around them. He feels so warm and he smells so delicate and he’s all you need.

“You knew I was coming?” You ask, turning to him

“Jimin said you were on your way without an umbrella and your phone,” Jungkook chuckles. But his face softens as he wipes the lone tear that falls down your cheek. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a typhoon or anything.”

“I had to get to you,” you mumble.

“He also told me he wasn’t subtle in telling you to come here.”

“Well, he did say you wanted me to talk to you. And I wanted to. I just wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear me out and I was… giving you space.”

“Yeah well, I don’t know what to do with that space without you there,” he sighs, his eyes shy and absolutely adorable.

“Neither do I,” you smile. “So, uh. Will you invite me to your bed, maybe fill that space and more?”

“Of course,” he laughs, taking your hand and leading you there.

You get under the covers and once he lies next to you, you scoot closer, hugging him again until you’re laying on top of him. But he doesn’t complain. He just hugs you back tightly, pulling you closer until he’s able to bask in your scent and the warm feel of you.

But despite the relief, you know you actually have to do the talking. You pull away and lay on your side. You take in his beauty and his softness and the way they make you feel like all is right again in the world. Your fingers trace his face, from his nose to his cheek to his lips, and he does the boyfriend thing of kissing your hand - including your cut finger - before wrapping it around his waist. He looks like he’s anticipating your words, too, so you try and hope they’re enough.

“Kook, I’m so sorry,” you start. “I… I have no excuse. I was being selfish and cowardly because I didn’t know how to tell my parents. I didn’t want to deal with what they’ll say about your job, knowing how they are and what they value and I just…”

“That’s for me to deal with though,” he says. “Because I chose this. And I’ve always known how they are but I still chose you.”

“It’s for us to deal with, and I did it so terribly,” you shake your head. “I don’t want you to think that I’m ashamed of you and what you do. That freedom, the ability to create… they’re things they don’t really understand. And I thought I knew how to make them. I just ended up denying us and that was so wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“I… I get it,” he responds, caressing your cheek now. “They worked so hard to give you this life and of course they want to make sure you’re taken care of. And for them, they only know of one way that could happen. I’d be naive to think they’ll just accept that the man who’s crazy about their daughter isn’t some corporate dude with secure employment and upward mobility in his career.”

He doesn’t miss your shy smile and the way you nibble your lip and that just triggers the butterflies in his belly.

“But that’s for me to show them that I can take care of you, and not because you can’t do it yourself but because I want to,” he adds. “I… I wanna be that person who makes things better and easier for you and who makes you happy.”

And who makes you feel loved, he doesn’t say. That’s a conversation for another day, he thinks.

“You do,” you assure him. “And I feel it everyday. You’re good at that, and I don’t tell you enough.”

“I know now,” he smiles, leaning closer to kiss you softly.

You return it but pull away. “Do you forgive me?”

“Of course I do,” he says, falling into the kiss that he gives again.

“Okay. I don’t wanna hurt you like that ever again.”

Your pouty face tugs his heart and he wants to tell you that none of that matters now because you’re back in each other’s arms, and that’ll always be enough for him.

He just hums as he goes for another kiss that’s deeper this time. And when you let him push you to lay on your back as you moan against his lips, his heart soars even more. He’s missed you, and it’s definitely going to be a long night.

He hovers over you now, and he shivers when your fingers graze his neck and then his chest. You open your legs to meet his hips, and the feel of your clothed cunt against him has his brain short-circuiting. He gets in the rhythm of grinding against you while he kisses your lips then your jaw then your neck, his hand now sneaking under your shirt to fondle your breast.

It’s when he sucks on that sensitive part near your ear that you yelp in pleasure, and he immediately covers your mouth with his hand while he giggles.

“Gotta keep it down babe,” he whispers. “My parents are in the other room.”

But he doesn’t stop his kissing and you don’t really want him to.

“It’s not like you’re making it any easier,” you moan as he pinches your pert nipple.

“I’m not and I won’t, but you gotta try,” he smirks before his lips trail downward.

You’re unable to say anything once his tongue swirls around your buds. His hands wrap around your breasts that he praises, that he kisses and licks before slowly letting them go to hold onto your waist this time. He presses open-mouth kisses down your torso, his lips in tandem with your underwear that’s teasingly being removed off of you.

You hear him let out a breathy moan as he spreads your legs wider.

And while you know that this tender-hearted man has a cheeky streak in him, you didn’t expect for him to have his finger against his lips to shush you, knowing what he’s about to do. His smug face turns you on even more, and your breath is caught in your throat once you feel his tongue flat against your flesh, warming it up before the tip of his wet muscle swirls around your nub.

But you go along with his request, biting back your moan, even as your pussy chases his mouth for more.

And it’s what he gives, as he dives in and sucks and bites your clit while his two fingers explore your hole. The cold of his lip ring is a contrast to how hot you feel, and it’s a sensation you can never get enough of. You whimper in silence but you manage to look at him, his eyes closed as he buries his face in your cunt.

“Look at me,” you whisper and he follows, his gaze meeting yours. “Fuu-uuck, Kook. You feel so good,” your voice quivers.

His mouth’s full but yours is hanging open. You cover yours with your free hand while the other pulls on his long locks. He’s enjoying this so much, you can tell with the way he squeezes your thighs and moans against your skin. He follows a pace that has your body shaking, straining in intense pleasure until it gives in. You let out a low scream as your orgasm hits, and he’s right there, riding out your high with you.

He cleans you up with his tongue and then makes a show of licking your essence off his fingers before kissing you again.

“You did good,” he teases, as he caresses your cheek.

You’re about to say that so did he when bucks his hip against yours, and the feel of his hard cock against your still wet cunt ignites another fire in you. He repeats it, and it’s what has you moaning again.

“Fuck baby, I told you to keep it down,” he says, continuing his movements.

You know you can’t help it at this point, not when he’s back to licking your neck and kneading your breast.

“Whatever. Not like this isn’t new to your parents or anything,” you say.

It’s a guess but you doubt you’re wrong.

“What? Fucking a girl in my room?”

“Yeah?”

“But you’re the first girl I ever brought in here,” he cocks an eyebrow.

“That’s uh, that’s kinda sweet,” you reply, your breath steadying now.

“Yeah and well, who gets to say they fucked their childhod crush in their childhood bedroom?” He smirks again. “I can.”

He’s back to kissing you and much as you enjoy this, the itch to feel him in your mouth overtakes you, and you take the chance when he trails down your neck.

“So, can this childhood crush suck your dick?”

“Yes, she can,” he chuckles.

He removes himself from you and leans against his bed frame. You get on your knees and pull off his boxers, salivating at the sight before you. You get on top of him, your damp lips gliding against his hard cock and his mouth drops open, an invitation for you to do what you wish.

With your movements on his hips, you focus on his neck, licking up the smooth flesh and the protruding vein that has him biting back his moan. Then you kiss him, desperately and passionately, as you slowly remove his tank top and rest your hands on his chest.

It’s your turn to trail kisses down his torso now and you give every inch of him ample attention. But when you make it further down, there’s one part of him that deserves so much more. You tease him only a little, stroking his length and kitten-licking his slit, before swallowing him whole and swirling your tongue around and all over his cock. He’s hard and thick and everything you want inside of you.

You hold back a gag while he holds back his whimpers. You stroke him relentlessly so you could watch his mouth hang open and his strained body almost folding in pleasure as his thighs tighten in your hold.

“You like that, baby?” You hum.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good around me. Fuck,” he keens, his voice quivering now.

You let his sounds guide you on how hard and how deep to go, but he’s the one who stops you, as he leans close and captures your lips in a searing kiss. He pulls you back on top of him to slide down his cock and the stretch makes you moan in his mouth.

He’s propped up on his arms for support while you move up and down, loving how he drags inside you in an angle that has your mind going hazy. You wrap your arms around his neck while he pushes upward to meet you, and somehow doing this while trying to be quiet is making the pleasure more intense.

It gets too much for Jungkook and he wants more. He wants to hit your deepest spots. He wants to be as close to you as he possibly can. He wants to swallow your moans and touch every part of your body and pleasure you in every way that he’s able.

So he pulls you off and lays you on your side, sliding back in from behind, with your one leg raised. The angle has you keening, even more when his one hand finds your breast and the other does its work on your clit. He pushes gently then roughly, no longer caring about the odd sounds the bed is making against his wall. He wouldn’t mind making up a reason to his parents if they ask him about it. Right now, all he wants is to reach his peak with you.

Your body is shaking in pleasure and overstimulation but you urge him, wanting to feel his seed inside you as well.

You lick his mouth. “Baby please, I want to feel your cum inside me,” you beg. “I want you so bad, fuck fuck.”

He loves it when you plead to him like this. He loves hearing what he does to you. He revels in the way your body molds into his, the way it aches to be close and to be one with him. His movements continue, and with his unrhythmic pounding against your pussy, he comes. You come right after, caused by his intense fiddling of your clit, and you feel like floating, your body in the clouds of pure pleasure.

But like always, he’s there with you, making sure you safely fall into a bed of hugs and kisses and warmth. He stays inside you as he softens, but his arms wrap around you, his face in your neck as he mumbles words of praise.

“Fifteen-year-old me would never believe this,” he heaves as he turns you over to face him.

You giggle in response.

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“I do. It’s how I am with you. In the best way, of course,” he smiles his boyish smile, an interesting mix of innocent and cheeky.

“It’s the same with me,” you whisper, kissing his nose. “And 18-year-old me would never believe this.”

You wake up the next morning to the alarm that you set on Jungkook’s phone. Your parents are leaving early in the afternoon and they wanted to prepare breakfast for all of you, and it’s a meal with them that you’re excited and a little nervous to have.

You kiss the chest that your face is flushed against, and this elicits a groan from the man next to you.

“Good morning, babe,” you greet, shifting up to kiss his nose this time.

“G’morning,” he grunts.

“So, uh, we’re supposed to meet my parents for breakfast. And uh, I’m going to tell them about us.”

It’s what prompts him to finally open his eyes, and the softness in them makes your heart burst.

“Okay,” he smiles. “I hope it won’t ruin their trip or anything.”

“It won’t,” you assure him. “I… I tried to get through to my mom yesterday. You know, just telling her the things I value and stuff.”

“Hmm. Jimin did the same with your dad. I guess I won’t be such a disappointment now, huh?”

“Shush, you’re not even that,” you pout. “I think they’ll understand.”

He mirrors your smile and there’s a giddy feeling at finally - hopefully - seeing your parents be happy for you. So you get off the bed and sneak out of Jungkook’s bedroom to go to the bathroom.

You wash up quickly, only to make it to the hallway and find his parents standing there, wide-eyed as they look at you in surprise. You realize you’re only wearing Jungkook’s shirt that falls just above your knees and you try to cover whatever you can with your hands.

“Hi, uncle. Hi, auntie,” you shyly smile. “This, uh, this isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”

“Well, we don’t really mind,” Jungkook’s mother smiles. “We’re just glad you’re here. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.”

“I know. I, uh, I wasn’t dating your son yet the last time I was here.”

“And that calls for a celebration, doesn’t it?” She giggles. “That boy has had a crush on you since forever. It’s funny he never believed that we knew. He wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” you laugh back.

You hear a door open and before you know it, large arms are wrapping around your waist and a mop of hair tickles your cheek. Jungkook grunts against your neck as he says that he’s finally awake, and you cringe at his parents’ amused faces.

“Kook, your parents are in front of us. This is so embarrassing.”

“Nah, they don’t mind. They’re cool,” he says.

“Yeah, and my parents aren’t,” you sigh.

“So, I’m guessing your parents don’t know yet?” His father asks.

Your pout prompts him to explain. “Well, the day after you got together, our lovesick son here told our family about both of you. But he said that you haven't told your parents yet so we’ve kept it from them ever since. It’s hard since we see them all the time but we managed.”

“Kook also told us about what happened,” his mother asks. “He was grumpy all day yesterday and we got him to tell us why he was so upset.”

“I’m sorry,” you pout again. “That wasn’t my finest moment.”

You feel Jungkook’s hold on you tighten, his way of telling you it’s all okay.

“It’s alright, darling,” she smiles. “We know how your parents are, and their reasons come from a good place. We tried to make this boy here understand them and you as well. Firstborns carry immense pressure to meet expectations; he just doesn’t get it because he’s the youngest. But it seems that it’s worked out with both of you, and we’re glad it did.”

“He couldn’t resist me,” you shrug, to his parents’ amusement.

“Uh, you’re the one who walked through the rain to come see me,” he reminds you, his head popping out of your neck now.

“You wanted me to.”

He tickles you in response and you’re all laughing in no time. It’s a different dynamic with his parents, as Jungkook always had a very close relationship with them. You saw it as a teenager and now, you get to be part of it, too.

They finally let you go and ask you to have dinner with them tomorrow, and that’s one meal that you’re definitely excited to have.

You push Jungkook towards the bathroom and then return to his room to dress up. It’s shortly after when you’re both walking the few blocks to your house, fingers interlocked as you give each other comfort.

You make it home and once you unlock the door, you can already hear laughter and clanking pots from the kitchen. You head there, meet Jimin’s smug face, and clear your throat to announce your presence.

“Oh, there you are. We were wondering where you were,” your mother says. “And hi, Jungkook.”

He greets your parents and from behind you, you take his hand again.

“I went for a walk… with Jungkook.”

He clears his throat and you backtrack.

“I mean, I, uh, was at his place. That’s where I slept.”

“Oh?” Your parents say at the same time, their eyes looking at you in confusion.

“He’s kinda my boyfriend.”

“Kinda? Babe, I think I’m more than ‘kinda’ your boyfriend,” he exclaims.

Your parents look shocked and next to them, Jimin is laughing in his seat.

“I mean, he is my legit, actual boyfriend,” you correct. “The new thing in my life that I denied is actually him. And the person who stands by me, who makes me enjoy the moments? That’s him, too.”

Their faces soften, and somehow that’s the comfort you need. Perhaps all the talking that you and your brother have done has gotten into them. You wouldn’t be surprised if they talked about it, too.

“Why didn’t you tell us, then?” Your mother asks.

“Because he’s not what you expected,” you sigh. “And I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

“Well, he is your brother’s best friend,” she points out.

“Who’s had a crush on me since he was a teenager,” you explain.

“That’s… not surprising,” your father laughs. “We could tell.”

“Oh my god, Kook. You are not subtle,” you elbow him. You turn back at them. “But I… I didn’t know how to tell you because you expect me to have a partner who’s part of your world, you know? And Jungkook likes his freedom. He likes his art and… he really likes me. And I happen to really like him, too.”

“He treats you well? Makes you happy? He’s someone you can depend on when things get tough?” Your father asks.

He smiles tenderly at you and you feel like crying.

“Yes, very much,” you nod.

“Then I think he’s everything we need him to be. A good partner, I’d say.”

You let out a sigh of relief. This is all you needed to hear.

“We’re sorry if you felt like you couldn’t be honest with us,” your mother shakes her head. “I guess we just needed some reminding of what we want for you and your brother. And well, Jungkook’s shown us his heart all these years. He’s always been a part of the family and he’ll be even more.”

They’re words that Jungkook didn’t expect would get him emotional, and he hugs you from behind just to steady himself. But it’s what makes your mother walk towards him for a hug, and your father surprisingly does the same.

“Alright, I guess it’s fitting to have this family breakfast together,” your mother says.

You all take your seats at the dining table, with yours being next to Jungkook now.

Jimin cheekily smiles. “Well, if this whole dance thing doesn’t work out, I guess I can just be a counselor or family therapist or something.”

“Just don’t call your clients ‘stupid,’” you roll your eyes.

“I won’t. That’s only reserved for you.”

And just like that, everything is as it should be.

You get through breakfast with lots of laughter, as you and Jungkook tell your own versions of the story while Jimin butts in to tell his own. It’s heartwarming to see your parents this way, especially when they tease your boyfriend about his crush on you growing up.

But even they admit that they’ve depended on him all these years, too, and that they don’t doubt his loyalty and commitment to you.

You share a tense moment with him after you all drop your parents to the airport, though. Jungkook has just unloaded all their things and as they hug you goodbye, your father teases.

“Just don’t welcome us home and tell us we're grandparents already.”

Jungkook dry laughs and so do you. That’s another topic for another day, you suppose, and while you’re still unsure of having a family, you just know it’s something you’ll both talk about.

You all get home soon after to wash up. Jungkook’s excited about how you’ll spend the day now that you’re both talking again, and you suggest hanging by the beach and then going out for dinner.

Jimin says he’ll stay home to let you two make up for the past two days and so he could have that online date with Taehyung, and you agree.

You and Jungkook end up having a really good day.

You go to a mall and walk around. He gets you a pair of stud earrings to commemorate the day you went official to your parents and you buy him a silver chain necklace for the same silly reason, but also because he looks really good in one and you want him to have more. It pairs real nicely with the shirt and joggers casual outfit he’s been sporting these past days, and the teasing look he makes after he puts it on reminds you of that one time his necklace was dangling on your face when he was pounding into you on your couch.

You get fruit drinks and snacks at the stalls you both used to buy from as teenagers, then you head to the beach where you lounge until sunset. You wade in the water, splash each other, and then make out when there’s no one around.

You feel so free and light, so young and hopeful. These are the moments you love having with him, the ones you like to enjoy and savor and have more of. And you know you’ll have them for the rest of this trip and when you get back to Seoul.

Jimin joins you for dinner at a burger place, then you all buy cup noodles and beer and head to your favorite park. It’s just like how most of your nights together go, just in the outdoors. You and your brother bicker and Jungkook referees; there’s also the occasional “you’re so cheesy” comment from you to your boyfriend and Jimin’s gagging sound.

You confirm plans for the rest of the trip. Your parents will be enjoying Hawaii for close to two weeks, and you have all that time to rest and spend time with your two favorite people. You’ll be off work. Jungkook has some projects to finalize while you do your own thing, and Jimin will be watching dance shows to get him inspired.

But there are more beaches and parks and villages to visit. There’s also that two-night stay at a resort you’ll be having. There are other sites and restaurants to go to, and you’ll be reliving your teenage years together while making new memories.

You’re now back at home, snug in Jungkook’s arms as he leans against the bed frame in your room, with you in between his legs.

“Today was a really good day,” you say, turning to him after he kisses your cheek.

“Today was amazing,” he hums.

He smiles as he replays the scenes of you shopping for each other, frolicking on the beach, and walking around your favorite spots. They’re all so simple and things you’ve done before but today felt so much more. There was a look in your eyes that held such tenderness and care for him. You held his hand as if you didn’t want to ever let go, as if you didn’t want him to.

“I really like you, Kook,” you mumble, almost like a confession, as if it’s not known. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

His eyes soften, as does his smile that he’s had on pretty much the whole day. But he just looks at you, and though you know he feels the same way, you want to hear him verbalize it again.

“Hey, say it back,” you nudge him.

“I love you though,” he says after a beat of silence.

You’re now the one who looks at him, unable to say a word.

“Are you that surprised?” He looks back at you nervously, nibbling his lip ring. “I mean, I think it’s quite obvious, just like everything I feel about you is.”

“Kook, I…” you try, but you don’t exactly know how to respond.

You don’t doubt his feelings but somehow you can’t help but think that maybe right now, he loves the idea of you and not you, and there’s a difference.

“I think I always have but I guess I didn’t realize just how much until this whole thing happened,” he continues, wanting you to understand what he feels. “I asked Jimin why it was affecting me so much and he said it’s because I put you on a pedestal. You were this dream I’ve had for so long that I admired from a distance and now I get to be with you and you’re… human, not some flawless being who doesn’t make mistakes. So when you hurt me, I faltered. That’s on me, too. Because I… I expected too much. And I’m sorry.”

His focus is on his hands that are playing with yours before he turns to you again.

“I realized that I wanted so badly for you to want me, that’s why it hurt. I wanted to be that person you cared for and trusted and needed because you’re all that for me. And when I saw you at my door last night, nothing else mattered but you,” he continues.

“Whatever misunderstanding or mistake or disagreement, I learned to accept them and I just wanted you, in my arms, so I could show you that you’re all I need. I’ve dreamt of you for so long and this version of you is more than I could’ve imagined. And I just… I love you, okay? It doesn’t matter how you feel. I just need you to know that I do, and I don’t think I’ll stop.”

Your heart is about to burst, and all you could do is cup his face in your hands and kiss him, hard and deep until you run out of air. You kiss him eagerly because you’re desperate for his touch. You kiss him passionately because there are things you feel that you can’t put into words yet, and this is how you tell him.

He’s quick to follow your pace, wrapping his arms around your waist as he helps you sit on his lap. Your fingers comb through his hair and grip his top and pull him closer, all while you grind against him and moan in his mouth.

But when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and caresses your cheek, you go tender.

“I love you so much,” he whispers against your lips, and all you feel is the warmth of his touch and how it’s all the comfort and security and stability that you need.

You slowly pull away and graze your nose against his. You don’t say anything else and he doesn’t expect you to. But you kiss his cheek and hug him, and you hear him sigh in relief.

He pulls away and cheekily smiles.

“You know, there’s a song for this.”

“A—what?” You laugh.

“A song.”

He pulls away from you then stands from the bed. “Let me get it from Jimin’s room.”

You stare at him questioningly because you really didn’t think he could surprise you even more. He returns with one of his burned CDs and you ask him if he has a sex playlist or something.

“I used to daydream about you to this,” he says, as he puts it in the CD player that your parents got you for your 17th birthday. “I listened to it after that very kiss we had and, well, we’re back home rehashing so many memories and I kinda just want to fulfill another fantasy of mine.”

He plays the song and the first notes get you all giddy and excited and nostalgic and very much turned on.

“This was my favorite song,” you say, as you signal him to come closer.

“I know. You played it all the time, I could hear it from the other room.”

You giggle, and it’s a sound he wants to listen to forever.

“So, what’s this fantasy of yours?” You ask, as you take your shirt off.

He licks his lips at the breathtaking sight of you, but he softens at the fairy tattoo on your shoulder, the one he customized and that you love showing off.

“Just… make love to you while this plays in the background,” he manages to say.

Your face softens, too, and it’s a sight he also wants to see everyday of his life.

“I’m all yours, Kook. Do whatever you please.”

It’s a week later when you tell him.

You’d just gotten back from that short trip to a resort that had you relaxed and stuffed with food. You video called with your parents during their sunset cruise and your father once again teased about not being grandparents yet and just like the first time, you brushed it off.

You’re lying on Jungkook’s chest as you laugh about Jimin’s terrible bowling skills. And in the silence, he asks, “does it bother you that your parents expect you to have kids?”

You knew he’d picked up on it the first time, but it’s just now that he’s bringing it up.

“A little. I try not to think about it though,” you sigh. “It’s another one of those expectations, you know? But I guess it’s a harder thing to talk to them about, that I don’t know if I want kids.”

He just hums and combs your hair with his fingers.

“Does it bother you?” You ask, suddenly feeling nervous. You know enough this is a make-or-break for many people.

“Not really,” he says. “It’s not easy to raise a child, much less carry one, and that’s something I can’t do for you. But I guess, it doesn’t matter. We can have kids. Or not. We can have a dog or a pet tortoise or a fish, really. When I think of a future, all I see is you. The rest is just a bonus.”

He speaks of your future with such certainty. He’s always talked about enjoying the moments but the one version of a future he wants is the one where you’re with him.

“I just want you to know that whatever you’re worried about, share it with me. I don’t want you to worry about me. We do this together. We figure it out together,” he adds.

And just like that, the fears and pressure you feel slowly dissipate. He’s the only version of the future you want. Everything else is just a bonus.

You turn to him with a kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, Kook. I don’t want anyone else to love me, and I don’t want to love anybody else,” you whisper like a plea, just like a promise.

“I’m not loving anybody else,” he kisses you.

And it’s his own promise he makes.

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studioeisa · 19 days ago

Text

you deserve each other ⛱️ seokmin x reader.

all is fair in love, war, and... trying to get fired? the waterpark is the last place you and seokmin want to be. in a ditch attempt to escape your job, the two of you opt to break carat bay’s unspoken, cardinal rule: don't date your co-worker.

⛱️ pairing. co-workers seokmin x reader. ⛱️ word count. 12.4k. ⛱️ genres. alternate universe: non-idol, alternate universe: waterpark co-workers. romance, friendship, humor, hint of angst. ⛱️ includes. mentions of food, alcohol; profanity. fake dating and all its shenanigans, sweetheart seokmin, lots of making out (do with that what you will), soonyoung is a plot device, other idols get randomly name dropped as employees. ⛱️ notes. this is part of @camandemstudios’ carat bay collaboration. ever so grateful to be trusted with seok! ‹𝟹 thank you to my ride or die, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, for beta reading. check out the other fics in the collaboration here. 🎵 seokmin’s top tracks this month. sugar, brockhampton. sunny days, wave to earth. get you, daniel caesar ft. kali uchis. heart to heart, mac de marco. m2m, cody jon.

The framed plaque is heavier than you expect.

A small, polished thing. Mahogany edges, gold trim. Your name etched onto a brushed metal plate, capitalized and misspelled. The receptionist claps politely. Someone offers you a slice of cake. Your manager—Changbin—says your name like it’s a blessing, like you’re his biggest win this quarter.

“... a beacon of initiative,” he’s saying, hand on your back, smile radiant and full of teeth. “Always on time, never a complaint, always going above and beyond—”

You stop listening around the word beacon.

Where joy should be, a horrible kind of dread is crawling up your throat like soda foam. You don’t want this. You never wanted this.

For the last six months, you’ve been orchestrating your own quiet downfall.

Small acts of rebellion: late reports, mismatched fonts in client decks, turning in spreadsheets without formulas. Once, you deliberately CC’d the wrong contact on an invoice email. Twice. Three times.

Nothing. Not a single reprimand. You’ve only been praised for your ‘out-of-the-box thinking.’

Now here you are. Employee of the Month at Carat Bay—home of hollow branding jargon, ergonomic nightmares, and a break room fridge that smells like egg salad and regret. You’re holding a plaque you prayed someone else would win.

The universe is cruel. Your parents are crueler.

See, Carat Bay is just the latest on your resume’s Greatest Hits of Unwanted Professions. Before this was the summer you spent handing out frozen yogurt samples in a visor that said Lick Me. Before that: barista at a vegan café that also sold crystals. Before that: dog-walking, tutoring, retail at a candle shop that played Meghan Trainor on loop.

Your parents forced each one of them with the same airtight argument: You need discipline. You need direction.

You said you wanted to freelance. Write, maybe. Design book covers. Do something weird and personal and fulfilling. They laughed. Your father nearly choked on his coffee.

But a deal was struck with the Carat Bay gig. If you got laid off, they’d stop pushing. Let you go rogue. No more curated job listings emailed at 5 a.m. No more passive-aggressive forwarded TED Talks. No more, ‘When I was your age, I had a mortgage and two kids.’

If—if—you got laid off. Quitting was not in the cards. It was either that or you stay for at least three years, which you would honestly rather die than do.

Now, you find that you have this. A plaque. A photo op. Changbin squealing, “This one’s going in the newsletter!”

God, you think, gripping the plaque like it might shatter. You are being rewarded for mediocrity. You are being celebrated for incompetence.

You smile for the camera anyway.

It’s the kind of smile that could get you promoted.

Back at the merchandise stand, your co-worker greets you with a grin and a pair of scissors he’s using to snip zip ties off a crate of branded tote bags.

“Look at you, hotshot,” Seokmin says, nudging you with his elbow. “Changbin’s golden child. I knew you had it in you.”

Your brows furrow. “You’re not mad?”

He scoffs, that beaming smile of his slotting back into place without a moment’s hesitation. “Why would I be mad? This means I don’t have to be Employee of the Month. That plaque is cursed,” he teases good-naturedly.

You laugh. Genuinely, if only for a second. Seokmin is the kind of person who makes you believe in the good of humanity.

He once gave his lunch to a crying intern. He always remembers your birthday. He talks to every lost tourist like it’s his job, which technically, it is not. And—in your honest, unbiased opinion—he’s easy on the eyes, too. It takes a lot to make the dreadful polo and even more dreadful khakis work, but Seokmin somehow manages.

“Seriously,” he continues, turning back to the tote bags, “I’m happy for you. You’ve been working hard. And let’s be honest, you’re the only one who knows how to fix the card reader. Changbin was probably just buying insurance.”

There’s a lightness to his voice. No trace of envy. Just easy, unaffected kindness.

You swallow down the guilt forming like a pit in your stomach. You’ve been quietly planning your own escape route while he’s been showing up every day like a real adult, juggling overtime and night classes. You’re trying to crash and burn and Seokmin—sweet, undeserving Seokmin—might get singed in the crossfire.

You clear your throat. “Thanks, Seokmin. That means a lot.”

He just shrugs. “Don’t let it go to your head, okay? You still owe me lunch for covering your shift last week.”

Seokmin walks away to restock mugs, and you stare after him, plaque still under your arm, feeling like the world’s worst con artist. You don’t want Employee of the Month. You don’t deserve it.

You know someone who does.

Lee Seokmin, who brings extra socks to work in case someone forgets theirs. He knows the perfect ratio of syrup to ice in the rainbow slushies. He has an uncanny ability to get toddlers to stop crying with a single balloon animal.

You’ve seen it all. He’s sunshine in human form, if sunshine occasionally tripped over its own feet and knocked over the popcorn machine.

That’s the thing, though. Seokmin—bumbling, bright-eyed Lee Seokmin—isn’t just your co-worker. He’s the son of the owners.

The heir of this kitschy little theme park kingdom. The golden boy who is destined to inherit its cotton candy throne and take up the sticky, sunscreen-slicked mantle of summer fun for generations to come.

Carat Bay is practically tattooed on his DNA. The gift shop trinkets, the underwater mascot shows, the overenthusiastic lifeguards. This whole place was designed by his family and built on a business model of manufactured joy, and he was the prince working the merchandise stand to get some good ol’ starting-from-the-bottom experience.

So when, days later, he startles and blurts, “I swear it’s not what it looks like!”—while clutching an open box cutter and a half-disemboweled box of limited edition light sticks—your first reaction isn’t anger.

It’s confusion.

You ask, flatly, “What the fuck are you doing?”

He winces. He always winces when you swear. Rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes dart around like he’s searching for an escape hatch. “Okay, I know this looks bad. Like, really bad,” he starts. “But I swear I wasn’t going to, like, ruin them. Just… make them look better?”

Your mouth opens. Closes. And opens again. “But why?” you manage. It’s a good thing the waterpark has already shut down for the day. You’re not sure what you’d do if you had to deal with this with a whole shift ahead of you.

Seokmin sighs. It’s the kind of sigh that carries a decade of summer-themed retail trauma.

You glance over his shoulder to the shimmering banner flapping in the breeze: WELCOME TO CARAT BAY—THE #1 MERCH DESTINATION ON THE COASTLINE! A glittering monstrosity. Just like everything else here.

“I thought you liked it here,” you add, genuinely bewildered. “You do the Carat cheer. You wore the mascot suit that one time. Willingly.”

He shrugs, sheepish. “Well, yeah. But I also want out.”

“You’re the owner’s kid. All this is going to be yours someday.” You gesture vaguely at the cartoon dolphins, the sparkle-laminated shelves, the sea of bubblegum-pink merchandise.

Seokmin shouldn’t be cutting up product. He should be on some managerial fast-track, drawing up expansion plans in a conference room somewhere. Not ruining stock and looking like he’s going to hurl from the guilt of it.

It happens fast enough for you to almost miss it, but Seokmin’s expression crumbles into a grimace. Unnatural on a face that usually had a perpetual grin, a catalogue of every positive emotion known to man. “Yeah,” he exhales. “Exactly.”

It clicks, then. All of it.

The too-frequent mishandling of inventory. The time he tripped and unplugged the entire register system. The day he mistakenly shipped an entire box of glow-in-the-dark keychains to the wrong coast.

You’d chalked it up to Seokmin being Seokmin. Lovable. Mildly chaotic. But now—

“You’ve been trying to get fired,” you say, the truth hitting you like a tsunami on the Wave River.

“Just like you,” Seokmin confirms. The knowledge sends a prickle of panic down your spine, but it fades when he goes on to joke, “Only I suck at it even more than you do.”

You snort. You can’t help it. “Wow. So we’re really the dumbest people here.”

He laughs sheepishly, but it’s the most honest thing you’ve heard in weeks. And when your eyes meet, there’s this quiet understanding that passes between you—like a pact sealed in shared misery and mutual sabotage.

You exhale. “Fine. I won’t rat you out. But you’re going to tell me what it is you actually want to do. Eventually.”

Seokmin grins. It’s that sun-bright, unfiltered expression he wears when he’s about to say something incredibly sincere or incredibly stupid.

“Deal.”

You reach for the disemboweled box. “Let’s make it look like an accident.”

Now you’ve both got a secret. And a goal.

The only thing more dangerous than two people who hate their jobs? Two people who’ve decided to stop pretending otherwise.

Except nothing you try works.

You set the air conditioning so low people start confusing your booth for a meat locker. Seokmin deliberately stocks the wrong merchandise on the featured shelves. You both take extended lunch breaks and once, very deliberately, you curse out a mom with three kids after she calls the staff lazy. Seokmin nearly fainted afterward from the adrenaline.

But none of it lands. Your manager pats you both on the back. Customers rave about your booth on Yelp. Kids write thank-you notes in marker.

Next thing you know, a laminated sign appears at the break room. Your name and Seokmin’s, right next to the dreaded Employees of the Month title.

The photo is horrible. Your smile is tight with disbelief. Seokmin’s peace sign is half a second from cramping.

You two convene in the supply closet. Your emergency meeting room of choice.

“This is bad,” you say, pacing. “This is so, so bad.”

“We could, uh… just keep trying?” Seokmin offers, nibbling the edge of a pen.

“We’ve been trying. We ended up with a plague.” You groan. “We need something bigger. Something bold.”

Your mind whirs. You sift through memory like old receipts in a drawer. Nobody gave a fuck enough about merchandise to cry about its sabotage. Snark was to be somewhat expected from the two of you, and you didn’t really want anything too extreme on your track record.

How had the past couple of people left Carat Bay? Your fingers tap, tap, tap on the closed closet door. There had been Heeseung, and Soobin—

Bingo.

The recent firings. Not many, but enough to see the pattern.

Heeseung, shortly after he was confirmed to be living with the girl who worked the bodyslide. Soobin, who packed his stuff up when he was found making out with the after-hours lifeguard.

The ‘rule’ wasn’t written in stone. Not in the employee manual, not mentioned during briefings. But it still existed in a yellowing Post-It taped up on the janky breakroom refrigerator.

DON’T FUCK EACH OTHER.

“Of course,” you whisper. “Of course.”

“What?” Seokmin says, wary.

You turn to him slowly. The smile that breaks on your face only seems to unnerve the boy even more, especially when you go on to declare, “We fake date.”

A beat. Seokmin blinks at you like you just offered to throw hands with God himself. “Fake date?” he repeats.

You nod sagely. “It’s bulletproof. Everyone who’s gotten canned the past three months? They were caught hooking up with coworkers. There’s a Post-It in the lounge, remember? ‘DON’T FUCK EACH OTHER.’”

Seokmin opens his mouth, closes it. Then again. It’s like watching a fish try to breathe above water. Finally, he croaks, “No.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, slightly firmer now, arms crossing over his chest like that would protect him from you. Which, to be fair, it might have if you weren’t already smirking.

“Wow,” you say, feigning hurt. “That repulsive, huh?”

Seokmin chokes. “Don’t put words into my mouth!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Then what am I supposed to take from that, huh? You look like I asked you to run off to Vegas.”

He rubs the back of his neck, visibly flustered. His ears are already pink. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Why? What, you got a secret girlfriend stashed in the plushie bin?”

He groans. “No. That’s not—I just… haven’t.”

“Haven’t what?”

“Dated.”

“You’ve never had bitches?”

“I don’t—women are not bitches,” Seokmin splutters.

He looks like he might spontaneously combust. You’re half-tempted to poke his cheek, see if steam comes out of his ears. Cute, you muse to yourself, but cute in the same way that a kitten might be if its head was stuck in a tissue box. Not cute in a I-want-this-man way. At least, you don’t think so.

You lean your elbow on the counter and study him, thoughtful. “I could ask someone else. Soonyoung probably wouldn’t even hesitate,” you note. “But I wanted it to be mutually beneficial.”

Seokmin chews the inside of his cheek. “Mutually beneficial?”

“Yeah. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, handsome,” you say, deliberately sweet, watching his face redden by the second.

He presses his hands to his cheeks like that’ll stop the heat. “Can I… think about it?”

“Sure. Just don’t think too hard. Might take it personally.”

He groans again, but you catch the shy little grin he tries to hide as he ducks his head. Victory tastes a lot like Seokmin’s embarrassment—soft and just a little sweet.

Four days and three failed sabotage attempts later, Seokmin finally gets back to you.

You’re in the middle of stacking sun-bleached baseball caps that say CARAT BAY: GOOD VIBES ONLY when he approaches, rubbing the back of his neck like he might apologize for existing.

“So,” he starts, glancing around like he thinks you might have an audience. The only person within 10 feet of you is a kid licking ice cream and glaring at a pigeon. “About the thing. The, uh. Proposal.”

You know where he’s getting at. You just want to hear him say it. “You’ll have to be more specific,” you say breezily. “I proposed several things.”

He goes pink in the ears. Adorable.

“The fake dating thing,” he clarifies, and then fumbles over his next words. “Not that I think dating you would be—I mean, obviously, you’re very—I’m not, like, repulsed or anything—”

“Seokmin.”

“Right. Sorry. Yes. Let’s do it.”

You blink. Then blink again. You had expected him to try and let you down gently, to instead try and rope you into vandalizing the mat racer. Instead, he’s shifting from side to side, laying his heart down on your feet.

“If you still want to,” Seokmin adds when you’re silent for a beat too long. By some miracle, you resist the urge to coo.

“Handsome,” you say slowly, grinning as he sputters. “Of course I still want to. What changed your mind?”

He looks down at his shoes, his voice soft. “You said it could be mutually beneficial. And I figured… I want out. You want out. Maybe this is the way.”

Something flickers in your chest. Not pity, exactly. Something warmer.

“Alright,” you say, and you reach over to the counter to hold out your hand to him.

You lay out the ground rules. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time the past few days doing research of your own—watching contemporary classics like Anyone But You and To All The Boys I Loved Before before scouring the fake dating tag on AO3.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” you remind him. “Touch is probably the best way to go about this, but we only have to do that when somebody’s watching. Convincing flirting is the key. The goal is to get caught.”

You don’t add the cliche of all cliches. No falling in love. Not because you’re hoping for it, no, but because it feels like a given. You like to think you’re smarter than Sydney Sweeney’s Bea and Landa Condor’s Lara Jean.

Seokmin listens with rapt attention before bobbing his head up and down in a solemn nod. With eyebrows slightly scrunched from concentration, he takes your hand.

The two of you shake on it.

You and Seokmin agreed to start small. Ease into it. Not make it too obvious. Open flirtation in the break rooms, stolen glances in line for churros, maybe a suggestive comment or two over headset. Nothing too dramatic.

So far, none of it has landed.

You’d told Seokmin to just follow your lead. He was good at that. Always had been. When you reached across the table to oh-so-casually pluck a cherry off his soda float and pop it into your mouth, you expected at least one co-worker to clock it. Instead, Soonyoung kept chattering about the new ice sculpture exhibit, completely unbothered. Joshua just nodded, as if you had simply demonstrated the polite camaraderie of sharing a beverage.

You even tried batting your lashes while Seokmin offered you the last dumpling. He didn’t need to play it up much—just smiled wide, ears going red. Still, all you got from the others was a distracted thanks-for-leaving-some-for-us, not even a wink or a whisper.

You were going to have to double your efforts.

“This is a disaster,” you mutter later that night as you help Seokmin restock souvenir mugs.

He straightens a bit too fast, knocking over a stack of keychains. “I thought it was subtle,” he sniffles, going to pick up the plastic surfboards.

“Exactly the problem,” you shoot back. “We’re so subtle, it’s like watching two Barbie dolls try to make out without bending at the waist.”

Seokmin’s laugh is loud and unguarded, drawing a look from a passing intern. He ducks his head and waits for her to pass. “Okay. We go bigger. I can do that,” he says, probably trying to convince himself as much as you. “Maybe I could, I dunno, carry you bridal style through the sand sculpture path?”

“Let’s not go zero to K-drama,” you say dryly. “We build up to that. We start with touches. Long looks. Close proximity.”

“You say that like we’re not already touching every five minutes by accident.”

You hand him a mug and let your fingers brush his, lingering. It’s an act, sure, but you’re sure he feels it too. The jolt of electricity. The thrum beneath your skin. Seokmin’s breath hitches, his eyes flitting to where the tips of your fingers had just pressed.

“That,” you point out. “But on purpose.”

He nods, dazed. “Right. Totally. On purpose.”

If anybody asked, you were building a believable relationship arc.

A couple of days later, you find Seokmin hunched over the merchandise booth counter, the cheap company laptop tilted slightly toward him. He’s got that familiar deep crease between his brows, the one he gets whenever he’s hyper-focused. Usually while trying to fix a jammed ticket printer or master a new drink recipe from the cafe next door.

You lean closer, about to tease him for working too hard, when the wikiHow tab on the screen catches your eye: How to be a good boyfriend: A guide for beginners.

You bite back a smile, heart squeezing painfully at the earnestness of it. Of course he’d look it up. Sweet, ridiculous Seokmin.

“Whatcha doing, handsome?” you ask, voice lilting and teasing.

Seokmin jolts upright so fast he nearly knocks the laptop onto the floor. “I—Nothing! Research! Important work research!”

You snicker, plucking the laptop gently from his grasp and setting it safely aside. “Research, huh? Planning to date the slushie machine or something?”

He groans, covering his face with both hands. “Don’t make fun of me,” he mumbles, words muffled by his palm. “I'm—I'm trying to be good at this.”

Your chest aches again. Not in an oh-I’m-screwed way, but in the reminder that, once again, Lee Seokmin is too good for this world. Too pure to be roped into your low-budget, romantic-comedy life.

“Hey,” you say delicately, nudging his arm until he peeks at you between his fingers. “You can just ask me, you know.”

“Ask you?”

You grin. “Yeah. You’re fake-dating me, remember? Free resource right here.”

He drops his hands, staring at you for a moment. It lasts long enough to make you feel seen, which is never good. “You’d really help me?”

“Of course. I’m an excellent fake girlfriend.” You lean in, conspiratorial. “Tip one: You’re already doing great just by caring this much.”

Seokmin's mouth parts slightly, like he wants to protest but can't quite find the words.

“Tip two,” you continue, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “If you ever don’t know what to do, just be honest. It's kind of…” —you soften— “my favorite thing about you.”

He blinks at you, visibly flustered, and you resist the urge to pinch his cheeks.

“Got any other questions, babe?” you tease, but Seokmin only shakes his head and mumbles something about knowing what to do.

You’re not all too sure about that. Especially as he starts acting pretty weird in the coming days.

At first, you think it’s just regular old Seokmin nerves. He fumbles during his cash register shifts, stutters when customers ask for directions, and practically leaps out of his skin when you tap his shoulder to pass him a bottle of water.

But then you notice him sneaking glances at you every few minutes. Shifty, fleeting glances. Like he’s hiding something. You catch him half the time, and he immediately goes red, waving you off with a too-high laugh. “Nothing!” he chirps. “Just—! Nothing!”

Suspicious.

During your lunch break, you find him pacing behind the Carat Bay merchandise booth, clutching his phone like it’s a lifeline. When he spots you, he stuffs it into his back pocket and beams so brightly it’s blinding.

“You good, handsome?” you ask, raising a brow.

“Yup!” His voice cracks on the word.

You narrow your eyes but let it go. For now.

It’s when you’re restocking plushies that you notice it: Seokmin, in the distance, accepting—and then panicking over—a large, extravagant bouquet of flowers.

He tries to hold it normally. He really does.

But first, he almost drops it. Then, he sneezes. Loudly. Violently. Three times in a row.

“Are you okay?” You rush over just as he doubles over with another round of sneezes, the bouquet wobbling precariously in his arms.

“I’m—” he gasps between fits, “—fine!” Sneeze. “Fine!” Sneeze.

You take the flowers from him. It’s a stunning collection of pink and white blooms. “Were you… getting me flowers?” you ask dazedly.

Seokmin nods, eyes watery, nose turning a tragic shade of red.

Your heart lurches. “Seokmin. Are you allergic to flowers?”

“N-No?” He says unconvincingly before another sneeze rattles through him.

You bite down a laugh, the affection nearly overwhelming.

“Oh my God,” you murmur, shoving the bouquet into Joshua’s bewildered arms as he passes by. “You’re literally dying to be my boyfriend.”

Seokmin sniffles pitifully. “Worth it.”

You shake your head, pulling him by the wrist toward the staff lounge. “C’mon, Romeo. Let's find you some allergy meds before you actually keel over.”

Behind you, Joshua calls out “Are these for me?” while holding up the bouquet.

Seokmin sneezes again in response.

“We should actually get to know each other,” you say around a mouthful of rice.

Lunch at Carat Bay is a lawless stretch of twenty-five minutes during which the staff gathers in a sun-warped outdoor seating area, and hierarchy momentarily dissolves into lukewarm leftovers and communal fries. You and Seokmin decide this is the perfect place for the two of you to set your scene.

You sit on the same picnic bench, unnecessarily close to two people who claim to be coworkers. Which is the point, really.

“I thought we were doing okay,” he answers middlingly.

“You Googled how to be a boyfriend, Seokmin.”

His ears redden. You fight a smile.

“Let’s do this,” you urge, setting your chopsticks down. “Secrets. Weird facts. Stuff you tell someone if you’re… you know. Really dating.”

Seokmin shifts, folding himself smaller as he thinks. “You first,” he says, almost bashfully.

“Fine,” you huff dramatically. “I can’t snap my fingers.”

Seokmin blinks then bursts into laughter, his head tilting back with the force of it. “That’s your big secret?”

“You’d be surprised how often it comes up in life!”

He wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin, still grinning. “Okay, okay. My turn. Uh. I still sleep with a nightlight.”

Your heart squeezes. “That’s cute,” you say, smiling softly.

“It’s dizzying otherwise.”

“It’s fine,” you say, nudging him. “Better than getting eaten by whatever monster’s under your bed.”

He groans before looking at you with an open, helpless fondness that makes you feel raw. If you were a little smarter, you’d call it off then and there for both of your sake.

Instead, you go back and forth like that, trading tiny confessions. You tell him about your irrational fear of mannequins. He admits he once tried to drink orange juice after brushing his teeth on a dare and cried. Every admission makes him squirm, makes you giggle, softens the space between you and pulls it tighter.

Seokmin is sweetness, clumsy and earnest and golden. And as he talks, stammering through another story about how he accidentally joined a ballet class in high school thinking it was an improv workshop, you realize: you aren’t acting when you find him impossibly endearing.

You lean your head against his shoulder with a dramatic sigh. “We’re gonna crush this fake dating thing.”

“Yeah?” Seokmin says, wide-eyed but smiling.

“Yeah,” you say, and it’s with a certainty that’s wholly misplaced.

Soon enough, the conversation spins into romantic experiences. When Seokmin asks you about your worst dating experience, you lean in conspiratorially. “There was this one guy who wore socks during sex. Like—knee-high, novelty print socks,” you divulge. “Multiple times.”

Seokmin’s mouth falls open. “No. No. No.”

“Yes.”

“Was that—was it a kink thing or—?”

“Unclear,” you say. “He called it his 'performance gear.”

Seokmin makes a scandalized noise and drops his sandwich in horror. “That is the worst thing I’ve ever heard. I hate the fact you experienced that.”

You’re laughing now. The kind of light, surprised laugh that bubbles up without warning. “I can go worse.”

“Don’t you dare. I’m already mortified.”

“Come on, Mr. No Dating Experience,” you tease. “You’re the one who wanted to know. Unless you’re just jealous.”

He goes red instantly. It shoots up his ears, stains his neck. “I—well, maybe I should be! I don’t have any dramatic sock stories to tell,” he says defensively. “I had one crush in the eighth grade who gave me half of a Twix bar.”

“That’s romantic.”

“She transferred schools the next day.”

You burst out laughing, while Seokmin stares at you helplessly. “It’s not not character building,” he whines, shaking your shoulders as you giggle over his misfortune.

Across the lawn, Joshua nearly drops his water bottle doing a double take at the sight of you two. Joshua blinks a few times, looks away, and proceeds to accidentally pour water down his own shirt.

You and Seokmin exchange a glance.

“Half-win?” he whispers.

You grin. “Half-win.”

He reaches for another fry. You nudge his knee with yours. Lunch hour ticks on like a warm, strange summer dream.

You’re elbow-deep in foam fingers and keychains when Seokmin saunters over, oozing effort.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he says, leaning on the edge of the merch booth like he’s James fucking Dean. “Need a hand, or were you just waiting for me?”

It’s so out of character that you freeze for a second, your fist halfway inside a box labeled CLEARANCE MUGS. Then, you clock Soonyoung loitering a few steps away, nursing a popsicle and watching the two of you with all the interest of someone half-invested in a reality show.

You turn back to Seokmin. He winks. Actually winks. It’s not subtle. You can feel the twitch of his eyelashes from here.

Soonyoung squints. “You guys good?”

“Just peachy,” you chirp, playing along. You sling an arm around Seokmin’s shoulder and lean in a little, giving the performance a few more sparks. “My knight in branded polo just saved me from mug-related peril.”

“Cool,” Soonyoung says, totally unfazed. “Let me know if you find the sunscreen shipment. Shua burned his face again.”

You hold your grin until he’s gone, then collapse against Seokmin’s side with a snort. “Jesus. That was rough.”

Seokmin groans. “I thought the wink would sell it.”

“The wink was, frankly, terrifying.”

He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m trying, okay?”

“You’ve got heart, baby,” you say, patting his chest. “Execution just needs a little work.”

He mutters something about humiliation and stock rooms.

“You sure you’ve never dated before?” you ask, teasing.

He sighs, still pink. “Yeah. Theater kid. Improv. Not exactly irresistible, apparently.”

You blink at him, then let your gaze sweep from the messy fringe of his hair to the freckle on his jaw, lingering a second longer than necessary. Sure, Seokmin is a bit—all over the place. But he’s boyishly attractive, and if he wasn’t doomed to wear rose quartz and serenity as a 9-5, you think he might actually be a real catch.

You decide to let him know.

“Seokmin,” you say slowly. “You are irresistible as fuck, actually..”

He gapes at you. You pretend not to notice how his ears go red like warning lights.

You busy yourself with mugs again, all while your heart plays hopscotch in your chest.

After the disaster masterclass with Soonyoung, you decide to up your act. With Seokmin's consent, of course.

It’s silly, really. His hand settles in the back pocket of your jeans as if it belongs there, palm flat against the curve of your ass like this is the most natural thing in the world. It’s not. It isn’t. Seokmin is practically vibrating with embarrassment, eyes darting like he’s waiting for a lightning bolt to strike him down. He’s sweating through his uniform polo, and you can feel the tremor in his fingers as he tries—bless him—to stay composed.

“You okay there, champ?” you murmur out the side of your mouth, smile still perfectly plastered. You’ve faked worse. But there’s something especially comical about watching Seokmin try to play suave when he looks like he might pass out from holding your gaze too long.

“Totally fine. Just, uh, practicing proximity,” he says, a little too loud, a little too stiff.

“Proximity,” you echo, biting down a laugh. “Sure. That’s what the kids are calling it now.”

He opens his mouth to reply but clams up instantly when Joshua walks by and double-takes so hard it’s like his neck cricks. Joshua’s eyes linger for a second too long, eyebrows halfway up his forehead, and then he walks faster, like maybe if he moves quickly enough, the image of Seokmin copping a feel in broad daylight will erase itself from his memory.

“Was that—did that count as a win?” Seokmin mumbles.

You grin victoriously. “Definitely a win.”

Seokmin exhales, relieved. “You’re really good at this,” he breathes.

“Oh, honey,” you say, adjusting your shirt and looping your arm around his waist like it’s nothing. “I haven’t even started.”

Seokmin shoots you a wide-eyed look over Soonyoung's shoulder. You know the one. The look that says, Please get me out of here before I die.

For the past fifteen minutes, Soonyoung has been monologuing about his fantasy, co-ed K-pop group, who he thinks would thrive the most in JYP Entertainment. You catch Seokmin’s eye and give him a sympathetic smile. When there’s a lull in the conversation, you seize your moment.

“We should get going,” you say, brushing your hand against Seokmin’s arm. It makes you feel like a scene partner in a bad rom-com. “Busy day.”

Soonyoung nods, waving a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah! Go do your merch-y things!”

And that’s your cue.

You lean in like it’s second nature and press a kiss to Seokmin’s cheek—except he turns to look at you just as you're going in, and your lips graze far too close to the corner of his mouth.

Seokmin freezes, eyes wide, cheeks pink. You pull back with a proud little smirk, only to hear Soonyoung’s delighted voice go, “Aww, cute!”

Soonyoung then leans in and, before you can stop him, plants a swift kiss to your cheek.

You blink.

Seokmin blinks.

Soonyoung pulls away, shit-eating grin firmly in place. “Guess that’s how we’re saying goodbye now, huh? Love that for us.”

And then he’s gone, humming something off-key.

You and Seokmin are left standing in stunned silence, lips parted, eyes still tracking the space Soonyoung just vacated.

“What just happened?” Seokmin asks dazedly.

“We’re either really bad at this,” you say, “or Soonyoung’s just really, really good at being Soonyoung.”

Seokmin lets out a strangled laugh. “You think Shua’s gonna want a kiss next time too?”

“God, let’s hope not. I only have so much emotional bandwidth.”

The next month’s announcement comes with a twist neither of you anticipated.

Wonwoo—quiet, brooding, catlike in demeanor—is the new Employee of the Month. The rest of the team cheers for him with tepid enthusiasm, and he accepts it with a shrug, already halfway back to the cabanas before the applause dies down.

But for you and Seokmin? It’s hope. A rare, glimmering thing.

Seokmin finds you an hour later, halfway through inventory behind the booths. He sidles in beside you like he’s doing something criminal, which—considering the last few weeks of manufactured PDA and workplace sabotage—isn't far from the truth.

“Heard the news?” he says.

“Wonwoo finally getting recognition for his uncanny ability to look hot and disinterested at the same time? Yeah. Big day for the guy.”

“No, I mean—” He lowers his voice, eyes flicking to the open slats of the booth. “Do you think this means it’s working? That they’re onto us?”

You close the inventory sheet and lean against the shelf. “I mean, maybe. But let’s not get cocky. We still work here. We’re not off the hook until we’re fully jobless and making life choices our parents would cry about.”

Seokmin grimaces. “Right. That.”

You bump your shoulder into his. “We gotta up the ante.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What, like another back pocket maneuver?”

“No. We bring out the big guns.”

He looks skeptical. “What’s bigger than the back pocket?”

“A kiss.”

Seokmin chokes on absolutely nothing. “A kiss?”

“In public. Obviously. Catch us in 4K. Let the rumors fly, let HR cry.”

He stares at you like you’ve suggested robbing a bank. Which, to be fair, with this level of emotional fraud it isn’t too far off. “You’re serious.”

“As a tax audit.”

He groans and drops his forehead onto your shoulder. “I am not mentally equipped for this.”

“You’re doing great, handsome.”

“Don’t call me handsome when you’re about to ruin my life.”

You grin, threading your fingers together in a fake prayer. “It’s only fake ruining. Come on, do it for the cause.”

He sighs deeply, like a martyr. “Alright. But if this backfires, you’re buying me dinner.”

“Deal. And dessert, too. You’ll need something sweet to cry into when we’re finally free.”

The plans get made. You’re both actively trying to get fired, sure, but Seokmin still wants to get some of his stuff done. And so the two of you stay even as the clock ticks past eleven, Carat Bay, a ghost town save for you and Seokmin.

Plastic bins of unsold shirts and foam fingers lay scattered around you while you’re both sluggishly folding and stacking them back into place. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a sterile hum over the quiet.

Seokmin yawns into his shoulder and tosses a crumpled hoodie into a bin without aiming. It lands with a sad little flop, nowhere close to folded. You nudge him with your hip.

“You're getting sloppy,” you snicker.

“‘M tired,” he mumbles.

“Whose idea was it to volunteer for overtime, huh?”

He gives a small, sheepish smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes tonight. You watch him for a beat longer than you should, picking up on how the weight of something heavier seems to settle over him.

“Hey,” you say, softer now. “You okay?”

Seokmin fiddles with the hem of the hoodie, his fingers restless. For a moment you think he won’t answer. But then he breathes out a laugh, quiet and self-deprecating.

“I guess I owe you the truth,” he says, “about why I wanted to get fired so badly.”

You put the last foam finger down and turn to him, giving him your full attention. He looks everywhere but you before admitting, “I… I wanna open an animal shelter. Mostly for dogs, but… you know. Cats too. Whatever needs a home.”

You blink, processing. “Seokmin, that’s—that’s noble as fuck.”

He gives a short laugh. “Yeah, well. Not really. I’ve been saving up, but my parents aren’t really big on charity and shit. They still want me to take over this place."

Your heart twists painfully at his honesty, at the way he says it like he's bracing for you to think less of him. “Seokmin,” you insist, stepping closer, “I can’t believe you’d ever be embarrassed of this. You want to get fired because you want to help dogs?”

He lets out another laugh, finally looking at you. “When you put it like that, it sounds stupid.”

“It sounds like you have the biggest heart in the world,” you correct him.

He flushes at the praise, ducking his head. You feel something tender pull tight in your chest.

“You’re gonna do it,” you say, firm. “You’re gonna open that shelter. And it’s gonna be amazing."

Seokmin gives you a look so soft you have to glance away, pretending to busy yourself with a pile of lanyards. But even as you fumble with the cheap keychains, you feel the warmth of his smile on your skin—quiet and certain, as if for the first time, he believes it too.

The cubicle smells like a mix of chlorine, sunscreen, and the ghost of body spray someone probably forgot to bring home last week.

You and Seokmin are pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the tight space, backs to the damp plastic wall, waiting. You can hear the sound of people outside. Laughter, feet slapping against tiles, the zip of a towel being whipped like a weapon. No one ever checks the shower cubicles during lunch. They’re too humid, too gross. That’s what makes it perfect.

“Okay,” you say, shifting your weight, peering at Seokmin. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, eyes fixed on some grout on the tiles. “We don’t have to, like, make out or anything. Just something quick. Catchy. Like a Sabrina Carpenter music video.”

Seokmin nods slowly. Then shakes his head. Then nods again. “Right. Okay. But, uh… just so you know… I’ve never done this before.”

“Kissed someone?”

“Yeah,” he says. He sounds like he’s confessing to murder. “Like—not even a stage kiss. I always got cast as the comedic relief or the tree.”

You pause. That makes your heart hurt a little. This was supposed to be a dumb performance. Another scheme. But now, your stomach knots with guilt.

“Do you want to back out?” you ask, already leaning away. “I don’t want to take your first kiss in, like, a sticky-ass stall with pool water dripping on us. That’s a memory you’ll carry forever.”

But before you can make a clean retreat, Seokmin grabs your wrist.

“I want to,” he says, and for once, he doesn’t sound unsure. “With you. It’s doesn’t sound bad.”

You freeze for a beat. His grip is warm. His cheeks are flushed pink, and he’s still damp from the park’s mist sprayers. For some reason, your heart picks that moment to hammer in your chest.

“Okay,” you breathe.

You lean in. You expect it to be awkward, but it’s… not.

It’s a little shy at first—his lips tentative, almost featherlight—but it deepens just slightly, like he’s trusting you to lead. His hand flutters awkwardly at your waist, not quite sure where to go, before settling on your hip.

When you pull back, you’re both a little dazed.

“Christ,” you murmur.

Seokmin grins, soft and stunned. “That wasn’t terrible.”

You smile, and for a second, you forget why you’re even here. Right—

You're still holding onto his wrist, gently, when you say, “We could practice. If you want. Just to make it convincing.”

Seokmin clears his throat. “Practice?”

“Yeah,” you say, with a noncommittal shrug. All cool girl, chill girl, this-isn’t-a-big-deal girl. “Just enough so we’re not all teeth and awkward angles when it counts. We want it to look natural.”

He nods, visibly thinking through the logistics. Then, a little breathlessly, he says, “Okay. Yeah. Practice. That makes sense.”

You step closer. The shower stall is cramped, so it’s not hard. Your shoes bump into his, your body brushing his chest. You place one of his hands on your waist. His fingers are hesitant, like he’s afraid you might change your mind and bolt.

“Touch me like you want to,” you urge him gently. “Like you're allowed to.”

His palm flattens more deliberately now. You feel the shift in him, the effort. His other hand lifts but hovers, unsure.

“Here,” you guide it, fingers curling gently around his wrist to place it at the side of your face. “You can hold me here. It helps.”

His thumb grazes your cheek, trembling slightly. His breath comes shallow.

“Now, slower this time,” you say. “Tilt your head a little more.”

He does, obedient. Eager. His eyes flick to your mouth, and then he leans in.

The second kiss is better. Less rush, more curiosity. You taste mint gum and something sweet—maybe from the café earlier. His lips are soft, tentative, and open slightly when yours press in a little firmer.

Your fingers rest lightly on his collarbone. His hand on your waist grips tighter, just a little. He kisses you again, like he’s learning. Like he wants to keep learning.

When you pull away, just slightly, he’s dazed and pink in the cheeks.

“Okay,” he says, voice low and stunned. “That was... useful.”

You try not to laugh. “We’ll need more practice. Just to sell it.”

“Right,” he agrees, too fast. “Totally. For realism.”

You’re both kidding each other at this point, but to hell with it.

Things escalate not long after. He’s touchier. Bolder. Somewhere along the way, Seokmin has stopped flinching when he touches you in public and started leaning into the performance like it’s second nature. And worse still: he’s getting good at it.

A brush of his fingers along the dip of your waist as you reach for the locker door. A comment in front of Soonyoung about how you look good in the staff polo, followed by a wink that is actually genuinely disarming. One time, he even smooths your hair back before a team meeting, murmuring something about presentation.

You catch Mingyu watching the two of you, eyes narrowed. Minghao frowns when Seokmin lets you steal a bite of his lunch using the same fork. The whispers are starting, and not even Seokmin’s endearing clumsiness can cover for the shift in atmosphere.

But the real danger doesn’t come from the outside.

It comes from the break room.

You’re sitting on the counter while Seokmin stands between your legs, lips a breath away. It’s meant to be another rehearsal. A quick one. A casual, convincing peck for the hallway.

Instead, Seokmin’s hand brushes your thigh. Not by accident.

Your breath hitches. He pauses. You don’t move.

His palm presses firmer, sliding just barely, just enough.

Then, without much warning, he leans in and kisses you again. Slower. A little hungrier. It catches you off guard—not because it’s clumsy, but because it’s not. It’s careful. Considered. There’s intention behind it, like he’s trying to see what else he can get away with.

You make a sound. It’s not loud, but it’s unmistakable. A quiet, surprised thing at the back of your throat.

Seokmin jerks back immediately. You stare at each other, both stunned into silence.

“What was that?” you ask, heart pounding.

His voice is soft, eyes wide. “I—I don’t know. I thought we were practicing.”

“We are,” you say, but it comes out shaky.

You both stare at each other for another beat.

It’s getting dangerous. Very, very dangerous. You force yourself to act, to play the role. You shift, leaning back slightly to break the tension, giving him a small, teasing smile. “Now I’m curious, Seokmin. Can you make the same sound?”

The question only flusters him even more. “What?”

“You know. The sound I made. You looked like you liked it.”

“I—” he sputters, adorably scandalized. “That wasn’t—I mean, it was nice, but I wasn’t—”

You lean closer again, voice dropping just slightly. “Let me try something.”

He nods. Wordless. Willing.

Your hands come up to rest on his chest, warm over the fabric of his shirt. You feel the faint thud of his heart beneath your palms. He’s wound tight, you can tell, nervous in the way he always is when you close the distance. You tilt your head, angle your lips near his ear.

“Relax,” you whisper, soft, lilting.

Then you kiss him.

It starts gentle, barely-there pressure. Your hands slide up his shoulders, then down, resting at his hips as you slot your mouth against his more deliberately. You deepen it slowly, coaxing, guiding.

When your fingers skim up the nape of his neck, he makes a sound—a small, breathy one that ghosts from the back of his throat. It makes your stomach flip, makes you smile into the kiss. You do it again. Just to hear it.

“That,” you murmur, lips brushing his, “was hot.”

He groans in embarrassment, pulling back to bury his face in your shoulder.

“You can't just say stuff like that,” he mumbles, muffled.

“Why not? You sounded good. Really good.”

You laugh, light and airy, and he groans again. When he peeks up at you again, he’s still flushed. But he’s smiling.

“Okay,” he whispers, all conspiratorial, almost as if it were a dare, “your turn again.”

You’re in trouble.

The plan is simple, in theory: get caught in a compromising position by the most enthusiastic gossip in Carat Bay.

The break room behind the bumper cars is off-limits after closing. Soonyoung has a habit of staying late to tally the day’s dance competition scores. It’s foolproof. Everything’s lined up.

Except Seokmin is looking at you like he’s just been asked to disarm a bomb with his teeth.

“I didn’t think you’d actually…” he trails off, eyes darting downwards, where your polo shirt now lies folded over the employee bench. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen them, which is saying something. You’re still wearing your undershirt—barely indecent by any standard—but Seokmin’s expression says otherwise.

“Strip?” you finish for him, amused. “It’s the uniform. People get fired for less than partial nudity, you know.”

He swallows. Hard. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

You laugh, stepping closer. “Seokmin, we’re trying to sell the illusion. If we’re going to pull this off, I need you to look less like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m not gonna pass out,” he lies, his voice two pitches higher than usual.

You reach up, fingers grazing the side of his face, and it’s like flipping a switch. He exhales, trembling a little. Your thumb brushes the corner of his mouth.

“We’ve done this before,” you remind him gently. “We’ve kissed before. This is just like practice, remember?”

He nods again, more believably this time. “Yeah. Just like practice.”

“Exactly.”

You press your lips to his, soft and warm.

Enough to ease him in, to coax some steadiness into his hands where they hover near your waist. You kiss him again, this time slower, more deliberate.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re reassuring yourself as much as you are him. Because your skin tingles where his fingers tentatively land on your hips, and your breath hitches when his mouth parts just slightly, enough to let your tongue graze his.

He pulls back first, eyes wide and unfocused. “That was…”

“Convincing?” you offer, trying to keep your voice steady.

He nods mutely, blinking at you like he’s never seen you before.

“Good,” you murmur, straightening his shirt collar. “Let’s make this a performance Soonyoung won’t ever shut up about.”

The break room is just warm enough to be stifling, wrapped in the hush of neon hum and the smell of popcorn grease and old rubber. You’re straddling Seokmin’s lap on the worn-out couch you’ve both dubbed the ‘emergency plushie zone.’

Seokmin’s tie is hanging off a peg behind you, abandoned somewhere between your fifth and sixth practice kisses. How much fucking practice one needs to get this ‘right,’ you’re not sure, but neither of you are complaining.

This kiss starts like the rest, lips brushing with practiced familiarity, but something shifts when Seokmin’s hands curl around your waist with more certainty than before.

"You’re really getting good at this," you murmur against his mouth.

He huffs a shy laugh, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your undershirt where your skin runs hot. “You told me to practice.”

“I didn’t tell you to practice this well,” you say, and then you kiss him again, hungrier now, breath catching when his hand trails up your spine.

It’s just an act, you remind yourself. Just something to get Soonyoung to walk in and freak out, let the gossip train do the rest.

Except Seokmin moans when you nip at his lower lip. A small sound, barely there—but it melts into you. You want to hear it again. So you shift your weight, rolling your hips once. His breath stutters. Yours does too.

You press your mouth to the underside of his jaw, voice low. “You’re really committing to the bit.”

“I think,” Seokmin says, voice wrecked with something like disbelief, “I’m losing track of what’s a bit.”

You smile against his neck. “We’ve been at it for twenty minutes. Where the hell is Soonyoung?”

“Was—Was Soonyoung even at work today?”

You freeze. You pull back and stare at Seokmin.

Kwon Soonyoung had taken a ‘sick’ leave today. To line up at midnight for a video game. He bragged about it in the group chat that all the newbies shared.

You glance down at your exposed chest, then at the way your thighs are locked around Seokmin’s hips. “Are we fucking stupid?” you wonder out loud.

Seokmin blinks at you, lips swollen and pink, eyes blown wide. He leans his head back against the couch with a groan. “I don’t think I can do that again without losing my soul,” he rasps.

“You’ll get it back in pieces,” you sigh, patting Seokmin’s chest in a gesture that’s meant to be reassuring. “Starting with your tie.”

You’re heading back from the boardwalk, salt still on your skin and the cheap cola you pilfered from the vendor stand fizzing in your hand, when you hear voices. The kind that make you stop short and lean just a little closer to the maintenance shed wall, pretending like you’re very interested in the bulletin board you’ve seen a hundred times.

It’s Joshua. Low and calm, like always, but there’s a seriousness in his voice you’re not used to.

“Seokmin. I just want to know what this is.”

You freeze. You don’t mean to. You know it’s bad form to eavesdrop, especially when you’re the this in question, but something roots you to the spot.

“I’m not trying to start anything,” Joshua continues, “but if this is just a game, if the two of you are pretending? You guys should quit it. Seriously. You’re both going to get into a shitton of trouble.”

A beat. Then Seokmin’s voice rings out, convincingly offended.

“It’s not pretend. I like her.”

Your breath catches.

“I like how she always wipes her hands on her shorts even when she has a towel. I like how she rolls her eyes like the world’s exhausting but she still shows up every day. I like that she lets me be nervous, but doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile. I like her laugh. A lot.”

Joshua doesn’t say anything, so Seokmin keeps going.

“I’m—I may not be able to call her my girlfriend. Not yet,” he says hastily. “But that doesn’t change the way I feel. I lo—like being around her. I like her, Shua.”

You press your lips together, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands, your breath, your entire chest. You feel like a live wire. Humming, sparking at the edges with something dangerous and sweet.

None of that was part of the act.

And, fine. You wish it were real. Just a little bit. Just enough to close the distance between his feelings and yours.

You slip away from the corner of the shed before either boy notices you there. The cola in your hand has gone flat. Kind of like your plan.

The conversation makes a home underneath your skin, hangs like a cloud over your head. It exists even as you’re perched on the countertop in the employee break room, the sickly hum of the vending machine buzzing under the clatter of Seokmin's footsteps. He slots himself between your knees with the same ease he’s learned over the past few weeks, hands bracing on either side of your thighs. It would be routine now, if not for the fact that your heart is somewhere around your ankles.

His eyes search yours. “Are you okay?” he asks delicately, looking at you with that concerned glance he’s been throwing your way all afternoon.

The thing about Seokmin is that he's gotten good at reading you lately, which would be great if you weren’t actively trying to keep your thoughts from turning into a romantic nosedive. You sigh. Might as well throw it all out. “I overheard you and Joshua,” you push out through your teeth.

Seokmin freezes like you’ve just dropped on him a bucket of ice water. “What?”

You offer a crooked smile, something flimsy and fragile. “You were good. Like, really convincing. Should’ve guessed you were a theater kid.”

He looks like he’s been punched. The breath leaves him slowly. “You thought I was lying.”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to. The way your gaze skitters off to the corner of the room is answer enough.

His voice goes soft when he says his name, and you presume it’s him readying you. He’s about to let you down gently, you think. “I—” he starts, and you refuse to hear it. Not without one final act of stupidity.

You move before you can think. Your hand cups the back of his neck and you yank him forward, pressing your lips to his like it'll keep everything messy and tender at bay. It’s not careful. It’s not supposed to be. It’s a distraction, a fire alarm, an emotional eject button.

Seokmin doesn’t kiss you back, not immediately; his brain is still caught on whatever he was about to say. The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but it’s long enough for the door to swing open behind you.

“GUYS—”

You both tear apart like you’ve been electrocuted. Soonyoung stands at the doorway holding a neon slushie. The look on his face is the type of thing that would have him going viral on TikTok.

You and Seokmin exchange a look, wide-eyed and flushed.

It’s the worst time to get caught, and of course, that’s when it finally happens.

The fallout begins quietly.

Which is the worst part, really.

No fireworks, no messy confrontation, just an unrelenting silence that creeps in where easy laughter used to be. Every brush of Seokmin’s hand now feels weighted, every shared glance taut with the possibility of a conversation you’re not ready to have.

Worse, people are buying it. Hook, line, and sinker. After Soonyoung caught the two of you mid-liplock, the rumor mill went into overdrive, and suddenly, no one bats an eye when Seokmin shares his food with you, or when your knees knock beneath the merchandise booth. Everyone thinks you’re together. That you’re real.

It makes it harder than ever to fake it.

Seokmin still tries. He flashes you that warm grin and slings his arm around your shoulder like nothing’s changed, but it has. You can feel it in the way he hesitates before touching you, or how his laughter doesn’t quite reach his eyes when you tease him. He wants to talk about it. You know he does.

And he tries.

It happens after another long shift, the two of you walking side by side through the near-empty parking lot. The sky is bruised and pink at the edges, cotton-candy dusk descending on Carat Bay like an afterthought. He catches your wrist, gently but firmly.

“Can we just—talk?” he says, voice low, eyes impossibly sincere.

It’s the exact thing you’ve been avoiding. You look at his hand around your wrist and your heart hammers in your chest. You want to hear him out. You want to ask him which parts were real, and which ones were for show. You want to tell him it’s been pretty damn hard for you to tell the difference, even if you’re the one who laid out the blueprint months ago.

But you’re a coward. And this isn’t part of the plan.

So you do what you’re best at.

You run.

You tug your hand free and turn on your heel. You don’t get far. Just past the bumpers, right by the yellow staff lines painted across the lot, you hear it—the telltale squeak of worn soles and a long-suffering sigh.

Changbin.

He’s standing there, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His eyes flick from you to Seokmin, whose hand is still hovering like it’s caught mid-air.

“Inside. Both of you,” Changbin says coolly. “HR wants a word.”

Great.

You’ve been trying to get fired for months. And now, at long last, it feels like your wish is about to come true.

Except the look Seokmin shoots you isn’t relief.

It’s heartbreak.

The HR room is ice cold. Not temperature-wise—someone must've left the thermostat on the exact edge of comfort. It’s cold in that awful, bureaucratic kind of way. Like nothing good has ever happened in here. Like no one’s ever left this place with dignity fully intact.

Changmin, the HR Manager, offers you both paper cups of water. His smile is so bland it’s offensive. “Let’s make this quick,” he says, as if he has something better to do than scold employees for handsy interactions in the Carat Bay parking lot. “There’ve been some... concerns.”

Your arms are crossed. Seokmin’s foot keeps tapping under the table, a nervous rhythm he’s trying to stifle.

“Rumors have been circulating,” Changmin continues, folding his hands neatly. “Several employees have reported seeing you two getting cozy on company time.”

You open your mouth, but Seokmin beats you to it. “We weren’t—I mean, it was nothing compromising,” he argues feebly.

“The CCTV disagrees.”

Holy shit. You almost forgot about that. There are eyes and ears all over the place; you and Seokmin didn’t even have to wait around for Soonyoung. The two of you could have just made out in the merch booth and been done with it.

“You’re both aware of the rule,” Changmin goes on. “No romantic fraternization during work hours. No workplace relationships without disclosure. And certainly not in full view of customers or staff.”

“Yes,” you mutter.

Changmin sighs, as if he genuinely hates what’s about to happen. “After internal discussion, we’ve decided to terminate the employment of one party.”

It sinks in a beat too late, what’s wrong about the statement.

One party. Only one of you is going to get sacked, and it’s pretty clear who it’s going to be.

Seokmin’s head snaps toward you. “What? No, that—that doesn’t make sense,” he sputters. “We both broke the rule.”

Changmin's smile flickers. “Mr. Lee, you know very well your position in this company.”

Ah. There it is.

The heir card.

You could laugh, but it’d come out strangled.

“This doesn’t have to be a big thing,” Changmin says smoothly. “We’ll phrase it as a mutual separation. No disciplinary record. A clean reference, if needed.”

You stare at the condensation sliding down your paper cup. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To get fired. To be released from this pastel-colored theme park hellscape and finally live your own damn life.

And yet.

Beside you, Seokmin's voice breaks. “It wasn’t just her. If anyone should take responsibility—”

“This is final,” Changmin says, in the politest voice imaginable.

You got what you had planned for. Why does it feel like shit?

You find Seokmin in the parking lot after the meeting, his hands jammed in his pockets, shoulders drawn up like they’re trying to shield him from the world. The Carat Bay sign flickers behind him, casting a tacky blue halo over his profile. You take slow steps toward him, gravel crunching under your shoes.

“Hey,” you say tentatively. “I—I didn’t think it would go like that. I thought we’d both get fired. That was the point.”

Seokmin doesn’t look at you. His jaw works, like he’s trying to swallow something sharp. “I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted,” he says flatly.

“That’s not—” You stop yourself, bite your tongue. “You know that’s not what I meant. I didn’t want you to get hurt by this. I didn’t think they’d—only fire me.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, the kind that tastes of ash. “Of course they didn’t. Why would they? I’m Lee Seokmin, Prince of Carat Bay. Fucking heir to the tacky throne.”

You step closer. “Seokmin—”

“No, seriously. This is the first time I ever tried to do something for myself, and I managed to ruin it by—” He breaks off, exhales hard through his nose. “By catching feelings for someone who only wanted a clean way out.”

You flinch. “That's not fair.”

“Isn't it?” he snaps. “You heard what I told Shua, right? You were eavesdropping. So you know. You know I wasn't acting. You kissed me anyway, like it didn’t matter. Like it was just another scene.”

You shake your head. “I kissed you because I didn’t know what to say,” you say, voice cracking. “Because I was scared. Not because I didn’t care.”

Seokmin finally looks at you, and it guts you. His eyes are red-rimmed, vulnerable in a way he’s never let you see. When he speaks, it’s as good as a confession, “I thought maybe, just maybe, if I kept being useful, if I kept showing up, you’d start to want me for real,” he manages. “But I guess I really was just an acting partner, huh?”

He pulls back when you reach for him. “Don’t,” he says, looking less like the boy you’ve come to love and more like the ghost of him. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

And then he’s walking away, shoulders still hunched, hands still buried in his pockets, as if letting them out might betray too much. You stay rooted to the spot, the neon lights buzzing overhead, your name already half-forgotten by the place—and the coworker—you were trying so hard to leave behind.

You have at least two more weeks before your exile from Carat Bay is final, and you tell yourself you’re okay.

You tell yourself that when Seokmin, who you’ve worked elbow-to-elbow with all summer, starts pretending you’re not breathing the same air as him. You tell yourself that when he disappears to ‘stock’ the back room every time you so much as look at him.

You tell yourself that when he hands you inventory lists like he’s passing secret messages in a Cold War spy thriller. Gaze averted, fingers barely brushing yours.

You’re fine.

It’s fine.

You’re very normal about the fact that the boy who once had a casual palm curved to the slope of your ass now can’t stand to be within two feet of you. The boy who used to trip over himself to steal kisses, to coax soft sounds out of your throat in the shadowed corners of Carat Bay, now can’t even meet your eyes.

The merchandise booth is tiny, the kind of claustrophobic that’s usually endearing in the early stages of a slow-burn romance. Now it feels like a battlefield.

Every interaction is a landmine. You joke with Soonyoung and Joshua louder than necessary just to fill the silence Seokmin leaves behind. You laugh a little too hard when Mingyu teases you about winning the Fastest Employee-to-HR Pipeline award. You act normal. You’re good at acting normal.

Seokmin, for all his theater-kid roots, isn’t.

His silences are loud. His stiffness is louder.

You catch him watching you sometimes, when he thinks you’re not looking. There’s a hollow, guilty kind of sadness in it, like he’s punishing himself. Like he’s mourning something neither of you can name.

You don’t know how to fix it. You’re not sure you should. Wasn't this what you wanted?

You got out. You got what you needed. It’s not your fault if somewhere along the way, Seokmin handed you something far messier, far more dangerous, and you didn’t know how to hold it.

You clock in. You clock out. You memorize the days until your last shift like you’re counting down to parole.

You don’t think about how empty the booth feels now.

You don’t think about the way Seokmin used to smile at you like you put the sun in the sky.

You don’t think at all.

You can’t afford to.

And, really, you don’t mean to cry. You’d told yourself you’d get through your shift, maybe duck into the bathroom if it got bad enough. You could’ve handled this like an adult. Quietly. Dignified.

Instead, here you are in the back break room, facedown against the sticky laminate table. Your shoulders are shaking, and you’re sniffling embarrassingly loud as you try to muffle the sound.

“Whoa, hey,” comes Soonyoung’s voice, full of immediate alarm. “Hey, what—oh my God, are you crying?”

You don’t look up. You can’t. You just groan low into your arms, trying to make the world swallow you whole. Of all the people who could find you.

There’s the rustling sound of Soonyoung pulling out the chair next to you, scooting in close. A warm, awkward hand pats the middle of your back.

“Hey,” he says again, softer now. “Hey, it’s okay. Breakups suck. Like, really bad. Especially when it’s someone you see every day at work. That’s brutal.”

You let out a wet, miserable noise.

“Everyone’s been talking,” Soonyoung continues, unaware of the dagger twisting deeper into your gut. “Like, we all kinda figured something was wrong since Seokmin’s been… I dunno, all weird. He barely even smiles anymore. He’s acting like you killed his cat.”

You lift your head just enough to squint at Soonyoung through bleary eyes. “It wasn’t even real,” you whisper.

“Huh?”

You sniff and rub your sleeve across your nose, cringing at yourself. “It was all fake. Me and Seokmin. We were faking it.”

Soonyoung blinks at you. “Like… the relationship?”

You nod miserably.

“Why?”

Through your tears, you tell Soonyoung everything. The plan, the faking it, the makeout sessions. The way it ended on a Wednesday, of all days, which is terrible—because you both had to clock in the next morning like you hadn’t just broken each other’s hearts.

Soonyoung leans back in his chair, processing this with the same serious expression he reserves for really important things, like choosing what to order for lunch.

“Okay,” he says after a beat. “That’s kinda… diabolical. But also, like, you and Seokmin… you’re just idiots in love.”

You let out a half-sob, half-laugh, wiping your eyes with the heel of your palm.

“I mean it,” Soonyoung says, smiling now, in that rare, earnest way of his. “You’re both idiots. And it’s kinda beautiful, if you think about it.”

You don’t know if ‘beautiful’ is the right word for the mess you’ve made.

But maybe—maybe it could be.

You always figure there’s a big act of romance in every rom-com. A grand, sweeping gesture by the male lead. Unfortunately, your male lead is out of commission; you decide to take things into your own hands.

It’s your last day of work, and you have nothing left to lose.

Lunch time is your choice of poison. You wait for the clock to hit exactly 12:30, and then you hit Send after making sure everybody who matters is in the breakroom.

Someone gasps. Someone else drops their coffee. Employees and managers alike pull out their phones to see what’s so stunning.

The screenshots are in the group chat. Seokmin’s texts to you over the past few months, confessions of all the petty little sabotage attempts he’s made at the merchandise booth: mislabeling shirts, sneaking wrong sizes into bags, purposefully miscounting plushies.

People are side-eyeing you, whispering among themselves—

“Damn, she’s really airing him out.”

“Was the breakup that bad?”

“Evil ass ex.”

You ignore them all.

You’re focused on Seokmin, who is seated between Joshua and Soonyoung. When he glances at his lockscreen, he does a double take. Blinks. Shoots up, his expression slack with horror. He looks like he’s about to make a run for it.

You cross the room in a couple of quick strides. Before Seokmin can say a word, you grab him by the collar of his stupid Carat Bay polo and kiss him. Long. Hard. Unapologetic.

Your mouth moves against his like you’re staking a claim. Like you’re not done with him yet.

The breakroom explodes in noise—shrieks, whistles, laughter—but you barely hear it. Your brain is doing that thing again, the one where your entire world narrows into nothing whenever you’re up against Seokmin like this.

You’ve known since the first time you kissed him that he would ruin you. You were right.

You break the kiss to breathe, to murmur against his lips, “You’re definitely going to get fired now.”

You don’t need to look to know a few mothers outside the breakroom are going to be scandalized. That the CCTV in the corner is blinking red, and Seokmin’s face is angled so you absolutely cannot manipulate or miss who had just participated in public indecency.

For the first time in days, Seokmin smiles.

Not the fake half-smile he’s been giving you lately. Not the sad, wilted one. A real one. Wide and bright and devastatingly beautiful. He cups your face, leans in, and kisses you again—softer this time, like a promise.

Screw the script. You're writing your own ending.

EPILOGUE.

The drive is long, but not unbearable.

Soonyoung and Joshua have packed the car with snacks, and between the three of you, there’s enough chaos to keep the ride from feeling too heavy. It's only when the road smooths out into rolling countryside and the first glimpse of the shelter comes into view—an unassuming building with bright, inviting banners—that your heart tightens in your chest.

“There it is,” Soonyoung says, leaning forward against his seatbelt, eyes wide.

“Cute,” Joshua adds, pulling his sunglasses down to get a better look. “Looks like it belongs to someone who loves, like, every living thing.”

You laugh, amused. “Sounds about right.”

The car barely parks before you're throwing the door open, feet hitting the gravel with an eager crunch. Seokmin is already at the entrance, waving both arms above his head like he's trying to guide a plane in for landing. You sprint the last few steps and collide into him, arms wrapping around his middle.

He lets out a winded, delighted noise, hugging you so tight your feet lift off the ground for a second. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here,” you murmur against his neck. “I’d be a terrible girlfriend otherwise.”

Behind you, Soonyoung and Joshua groan loudly.

“God, it’s worse than I thought,” Soonyoung sighs. “You’d think the honeymoon phase would be over by now.”

“It’s watching a rom-com on 2x speed,” Joshua agrees.

Seokmin only grins against your hair, clearly unfazed. He sets you back down but keeps an arm looped lazily around your shoulders as he ushers everyone inside.

The shelter is still new—there’s the faint smell of fresh paint, and not every kennel is full yet—but the energy is unmistakably Seokmin: warm, bright, buzzing with earnest hope. He introduces you to every animal like he’s presenting you with priceless treasures. You fall in love with each one.

You had properly fallen in love with Seokmin shortly after you were both freed from the clutches of Carat Bay. The two of you talked it out. He asked you on a proper date. The rest became history, and the story of your origins—now about half a year in the rearview—proves to be a fun tale to swap during drinking sessions.

This time, you both got what you wanted, and so much more.

At one point, Seokmin presses a kiss to your temple. You instinctively lift onto your toes to kiss his jaw in return. You both giggle like teenagers, noses brushing, completely lost in each other.

From behind you, Joshua pretends to gag. “Do we need to leave you two alone with the puppies?” he says judgmentally, arms tightening around the Rottweiler puppy he’d been eyeing for weeks.

Soonyoung joins in on the teasing. “Disgustingly cute,” he announces dryly, already halfway out the door so he can escape you and Seokmin. And then, he throws in as an afterthought: “You two deserve each other.”

You glance up at Seokmin. He beams down at you like you’re the only thing he can see.

It pains you to admit—but for once, Kwon Soonyoung might be right about something.

#caratbaycollab #seokmin x reader #dk x reader #dokyeom x reader #seokmin imagines #dk imagines #dokyeom imagines #seokmin fic #dk fic #dokyeom fic #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt fic #seventeen fic #(🥡) notebook #(💎) page: svt

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cuteandhughesy · 3 months ago

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Couldn’t Make It Any Harder | Leon Draisaitl

summary: you and leon draisaitl hate each other. point blank period. your best friend, lauren and her fiancé—as well as leon's teammate—connor are sick of it. they conjure up a plan that ends with you and leon sharing a rather passionate kiss. after that, you can't tell how much you and leon actually hate one another, but with lauren and connor’s wedding coming up, you both have no choice but to try and get along.

[word count] 18.9k

a/n: i’ve been saving this idea for the right player and as soon as my brain put leon with this plot….it was a done fucking deal. i’m so obsessed with this idea, and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as me ❤️‍🔥

🎵 couldn’t make it any harder by sabrina carpenter, you're so vain by carly simon, don't leave by snakeships, haunted by beyoncé, false god by taylor swift, + no i'm not in love by tate mcrae

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the crunch of the nut between your teeth echos through your skull, the slightly sweet taste accompanied by the perfect salty aftertaste wrapping around your tongue and attacking your tastebuds. you chew the beer nut slowly, like you're savouring each one you toss in your mouth like it's a game.

after all, it is a game. maybe not the actual eating part, but the part where you keep your eyes trained across the dimly lit bar, gaze never filtering from his as he too tosses individual beer nuts in his mouth.

you're waiting patiently for him to crack—pull a disgusted face, which inevitably he will do. because leon draisital hates beer nuts almost as much as he hates you. you know leon's distaste for the bar snack only because you heard him say the very first time you met 4 years ago, ironically in a bar.

your friend, lauren insisted that you had to meet her boyfriend's teammate—the infamous leon draisaitl. you let her drag you out to a local edmonton bar, one that was too dark and smelt like leather. you let her hype leon up like he was a trophy—like he was going to be your new best friend. but leon was not a trophy. he was pissed off, and when you smiled at him, he scowled in response. and when you tried to give him a handful of beer nuts as a piece offering, leon said; 'I fucking hate those things.'

you tried to chalk it up to a bad night, or maybe even a shitty week. but as months passed, leon never changed. he hated you. if he wasn't completely avoiding eye contact with you, he'd roll his eyes. if you were in the same room, he'd make sure he was across it and far away from you. if leon was anywhere near you, he'd make sure you knew he didn't want to be there. so in return, you decided you hate him more. and oh god, as the years have gone by has that hatred brewed and constricted into an endless loathing and bickering cycle.

slowly, you grab another beer but between your red painted finger nails—red because it's leon's least favourite colour—and bring it up to your lips. you let it rest there for a moment, testing him. is he going to do the same thing? is leon going to play the copy game? just as slow as you, leon reaches into his own jar of beer nuts on the other side of the bar, his much larger fingers bring a single nut up to his lips.

your lips part, and you toss the nut into your mouth. leon does the exact same. you chew as slow as you can once more, savouring the combined flavours because that means leon has to do the same, and you know it must be torture.

and that makes you smile.

just when you think you're going to have to repeat the whole process, there's the smallest pull of disgust across leon's face, and he takes a large gulp of his beer to wash down the nut.

your grin smugly, and without breaking eye contact, you raise the entire jar of beer nuts to your mouth and down the entire thing. you chew happily, and then look away with a satisfying feeling low in your belly.

you spin off the bar stool, fully intending to slink through the crowd until you find one of your friends and then force them to dance with you to take your mind of the german red flag across the bar. but as soon as you spin, you're meeting the eyes of lauren soon to be mcdavid—also known as your best friend.

you jump, a hushed curse passing through your lips as you clutch your thumping heart.

"what are you eating?" lauren asks like she didn't just send your stomach down to your ass. her blue eyes dart over your shoulder to briefly look at the empty jar before she curiously looks back at you.

you're still chewing the mouthful of beer nuts you just shoved in your mouth like a deranged chipmunk. "beer nuts." you say, although it sounds more like deer guts through your full mouth.

but lauren hears you perfectly fine. "beer nuts?" she asks, "seriously? are you and leon playing that stupid game again?" the words beer and nut combined together never fails to send a shiver through your best friends spine—mostly because she knows their tied to leon and your hatred for one another. and then when she remembers that her best friend and her fiances best friend hate each other, she gets another shiver and the whole thing repeats itself.

you swallow the remainder of food roughly, "it's not a game to me," you huff ludicrously, "he's the childish one that feels the need to copy every single move I make—"

"alright," lauren sighs, cutting off the ramble that was surely about to happen, "I get it. i've heard it enough times now, I think I could recite it for you—I'll save you the breath." her tone isn't serious, but you know your and leon's hatred upsets her.

you sigh softly, falling back against the backrest of the bar stool. lauren slips into the empty seat beside you, flagging down one of the bartenders and ordering herself another sex on the beach. once she's done, she turns to look at you. "are you guys going to be able to get along for the wedding?"

the wedding in question is her own—a wedding in which both you and leon where apart of. as much as you love your best friend, and you're looking forward to the royal wedding of the hockey community, you've also been dreading this summer for the exact same reason. and that reason being having to be apart of the same wedding party as leon fucking draisaitl.

your eyes dart back across the bar, and you find that leon is already looking in your direction. he's not alone now, connor and one of connor's childhood friends are sitting with him—chatting and laughing like they have no care in the world. once your eyes meet, leon looks away.

you roll your eyes before looking back at lauren. "if there's no beer nuts there, everything should be hunky dory."

the dig at leon doesn't go unnoticed by her, and lauren sighs again. "y/n, i'm being serious." her and connor's wedding is just under two weeks away, and she honestly didn't think she'd still be dealing with the bickering between you and leon—but here she is, stepping on eggshells around you both.

you frown and run a hand through your bouncy hair. guilt laces through you, "you're right, i'm sorry. I know it's important to you, and i'm trying my best but god, he just...frustrates me so much." you laugh like it's a joke, scratching at your arms as if you're trying to crawl out your body. "I feel like my body is on fire when he's around."

lauren nods emphatically, leaning against the side of your body like she's giving you a hug without arms. "I know it's hard but please, just try. for me."

lauren was one of those girls who has been planning her wedding since she came out the womb. when she was 10 she already had one of those scrapbooks that detailed everything she wanted included on her big day. she's been planning the entire wedding without a planner simply because she wants to. that combined with her clothing brand, you know lauren has enough stress on her plate without having to worry about you war with the german superstar.

that's also a reason you told her not to worry about your birthday that falls in a few days because you knew she had enough to worry about, and planning your party like she does every year needs to be the least of her worries. but you caught her ordering custom balloons two days ago, and you knew you shouldn't attempt to stop her. once lauren has her mind set on something, it's hard to change it.

reluctantly you nod, and a slow smile begins pulling at your lips. your wrap your arms around your small blonde friend, resting your cheek on the top of her head. "of course. i'll be good."

even though leon is the problem, your brain reminds you rudely. you ignore it though, because that's the last thing you should say to her right now.

you feel lauren relax in your arms, but not completely which makes you a bit anxious and feel even more guilty. "thank you." she pulls away, grabbing at your hands and pulling you both off the bar.

the tender slides her drink on the bar top, which connor had already paid for (praise that nhl money), and lauren downs the entire thing instantly. "let's go dance—this is my jam!"

"usher is your jam?" you laugh curiously, letting her bring you out into the heart of the dance floor.

she nods like it's obvious. "oh yeah," lauren's sarcasm is clear, "scream is actually going to be my first dance song."

you cackle your usual loud laugh, falling into lauren's arms as you both dance along to the upbeat bass. "you're such loser!"

"I know!" she smiles, spinning around so fast that her hair smacks your face. "but you love me!"

hours later, after connor has ordered you an uber and sent you home, him and lauren slide into their own. he can tell something is weighing on his fiancés mind by the silence lingering between them, gnawing on the skin of her thumb which she only does when she's anxious.

"hey," connor starts softly, "what's wrong, babe?"

his question is the final nail in the coffin, and immediately lauren is whining, falling against his shoulder dramatically. "what are we going to do?"

"what?" he questions, wildly confused. connor slips his fingers through lauren's straight hair, twisting the strands around his index finger to create little ringlets.

she huffs. "about leon and y/n."

connor's hand stills in her hair. "what about them?"

"connor, seriously?" lauren stresses, sitting back up straight as she turns to look at her fiancé like he just suggested they should call off the wedding. "they hate each other."

"they don't actually." connor laughs, pulling her back into his side. lauren goes easily, but her shoulders are still tense.

"they do." she whines again, "and i'm scared it's going to ruin our wedding. I know y/n, she'd never do anything to hurt me on purpose, but leon brings out this side of her and she just looses control." lauren's bottom lip wobbles as she finishes, and connor spots it immediately.

"hey, it's okay." he whispers, kissing her head. "why don't we like...stuff them in a room and make them sort out there differences. leave them for an hour or two and let them figure it out." connor laughs like it's funny, because for the most part his suggestion was a joke.

but lauren freezes, blinking at connor as she registers the idea. slowly, her lips turn up in a smirk. "actually, that's a great idea."

—

"hey!" lauren's cheery voice automatically makes you suspicious. this close to the wedding and a more than chipper tone is the recipe for disaster. she continues, her voice grainy through your phones speaker. "can you do me a huuuuggggee favour?"

there it is. you laugh gently, sitting up from your previously slouched position on your rather uncomfortable love seat, pushing the fraying knit blanket off your legs. "what's up?"

you can hear her smile through the phone. "okay so i'm totally running late at my hair appointment, and I have the wedding chef coming over in 20 for some menu items for the rehearsal dinner, but i'm not going to be there."

your brow quirks curiously. "okay? what do you need from me?"

"I need you to just be there and make sure he gets settled," lauren says, "I'd ask connor but he's on the other side of town. i'll be there as fast as I can. If you could do this for me you'd be the best bridesmaid ever."

"alright," you chime easily, getting of the leather cushions underneath you. "i'll head over now."

"perfect," she says, sounding suspiciously smug. "you know the code! I can't thank you enough, this will be great."

your brows pull tightly and create a dimple in the middle of your forehead. before you can ask her why she's acting so weird, lauren rushes a goodbye and the line goes dead. you blink in surprise, chalking up her behaviour to pre-wedding jitters.

you toe one some flimsy sandals before grabbing your keys and sunglasses, making your way down to the lobby of your apartment building.

the air is warm, and smells like summer. you drive with the windows down for the entire ride to lauren and connor's condo, the air whipping through your hair and warming your skin.

once you arrive at her place, lenny greats you excitedly, tiny yips leaving his wiggling body as he licks your exposed skin—no doubt getting a salty taste of your fake tan. "hey buddy," you greet just as happily, baby voice in full affect, "I missed you my boy."

your phone pings with a text from lauren, 'I've got some menu samples in my beside table. can you grab them once you're there."

you respond quickly and then put your belongings on the crispy clean kitchen island—lenny at your feet as you move. he almost trips you twice, but he's so oblivious and happy with his tongue half way out his mouth, that you don't even care.

you quickly make your way down to her bedroom, pushing open the door and padding inside the carpeted room. you stifle through her beside table, but the only thing you find is a tangled pair of headphones, random hair ties and way too many sleeping masks.

you frown, but figured lauren just misspoke. you round the end of the bed and to connor's nightstand. like you expected, connor's nightstand is freakishly organized. everything has its own compartment—even the condoms for fucks sake.

behind you, lenny's ears perk up and just as quickly he springs out the room, leaving you alone and more than anything, confused. where are the damn menu samples? you scan the room quickly, hands on your hips as you try and think of where your best friend would stick them. the sound of socked feet approaching have you spinning to face the door. lenny bounds back in first, and then leon appears.

"what are you doing here?" he asks, face nothing but taken back.

you cross your arms, "what are you doing here?"

"I asked you first."

"you're so annoying, oh my god," you groan dramatically, and it makes lenny bark before he's running back out the room. soon enough, you think, you'll be following him. you continue, "i'm helping lauren. she needs me to get some menu samples and then wait for the chef."

leon chuckles like he's in on some joke you've been left out of, his hands tucked causally into the front pockets of his jeans. you grimace at the sight because it's way to hot out to have your legs fully covered. "well I'm here to do the exact same thing. except connor asked me."

you scoff. "lauren said he's on the other side of town and can't be here. that's why she sent me."

"funny," leon scoffs a laugh, "because connor said the same thing about lauren—hence why i'm here."

you drops your arms to your sides ludicrously, looking at leon with the upmost displeasure on your face. "okay, well clearly someone fucked up—you, most likely," you pause and leon rolls

his eyes. "but let's just find these menus so that we can both leave. I don't want to be in a confined space with you for any longer than necessary."

"awh, you're so sweet." leon says, voice dropping with venom and sarcasm. he walks further into the room, movements casual as he brushes straight past you, his bare bicep bumping your shoulder. "you can't find the menu's?"

"no," you stress, following him as he makes his way to connor's beside table. "and I already checked in there."

leon checks anyways and that has you rolling your eyes. "okay, well you're awful at looking for things, so double checking is necessary."

"double checking is necessary," you mock, voice all high pitched an annoying.

he sends you a look over his broad shoulder, "are you done?"

you don't answer, turning on your heels and walking over to the built in book cases that line the entire wall. the shelves they're packed, mostly with aesthetic looking pieces that are so shiny and white they make your head hurt. you begin poking through the collection of books, searching for the menu samples—huffing quietly to yourself anytime you remember that leon is also in the room.

he makes his way over to the book shelves as well, opting to look through the case on the opposite side of the open door. he is still too close for your liking, but you're not going to start that argument. you can't see him past the door, and you can only hear him mutter curse words to himself as his search is unsuccessful.

"why don't you just text lauren and ask her?"

you scoff, "why don't you just text connor?"

"my phones in the car."

"and mines in the kitchen."

"are you seriously that lazy that you can’t go down the hall and get your phone?" he asks incredulously, looking at you over the edge of the door, book shelf long forgotten.

you laugh. "of course not! I just don't feel the need when we can just look ourselves."

leon goes to take a step towards you, because he knows that you’re not looking properly through the books on that side, and he bumps the door, sending it to shut with a dull thud.

your breath hitches as the code system stares back at you. "you better know the code for that."

"why would I know the code?" his eyes find yours, looking at you like you've just suggested world war 3.

you try to open the door, but much to you dismay it's locked. you're locked in a room with leon draisaitl. "no," you whine, jiggling the handle more aggressively in hopes it decides to magically unlock. obviously, it doesn't.

"jesus," he huffs, "relax."

"oh, i'm sorry!" you look at him wildly, "i'm just a little bit upset about being trapped in a room with the spawn of satan—my apologies for trying to get out."

"spawn of satan?" he repeats, words laced with what you're pretty sure is amusement. it makes your blood boil. "don't call yourself that, y/n."

"you must have a death wish."

"oh, I must."

you squint pointedly, lips twitching in a frown. "whatever." you mumble dismissively, turning heel and making your way back to the perfectly made bed in the middle of the room.

leon watches as you sit down on the corner of the mattress, bringing your feet up and resting your arches on the frame of the bed. you're not wearing socks, and your toenails are painted navy blue. he notes that you must've worn some sort of flip flop.

you catch his eyes and scowl. "what?"

"should you really be sitting on their bed? rubbing your feet all over a frame that probably costs more than your monthly salary."

"would you prefer I do jumping jacks?" you question even though you're not wanting an answer. "hate to break it to you draisaitl, but this isn't the first time i've been in this room. or on this bed."

leon snickers, walking towards you. "right, yes I forgot that lauren is cursed with spending time with you."

you roll your eyes and don't say anything.

he continues. "they'll be here soon."

"not soon enough."

this time it's leon who doesn't respond to your condescending comment, but instead slumping down in the sherpa oversized chair in the corner of the room. he picks up one of the table books, some kind of chanel picture one, and begins flipping through the pages.

everytime he flips the page, much louder than necessary, you sigh in exasperation—which only eggs him on.

5 minutes later you hear two sets of feet padding down the hall, and your eyes widen, shooting off the bed so fast that you almost trip over your own feet.

"y/n?" the muffled voice of lauren calls curiously on the other side of the bedroom door. "leon?"

"we're in here." you say, jiggling the handle again for good measure.

"how'd this happen?" connor is the one asking, his voice laced with what can only be described as amusement.

leon joins you at the door. "the door shut obviously."

"no," you correct quickly, "leon's clumsy, big body knocked into it. trapping us." you stress wildly, eyeing the man in question with displeasure.

his brows raise in faux excitement. "you think i'm big?"

your eyes roll again—you won’t be surprised if they get stuck on the next round. you turn your attention back to the closed door, "guys, what's the code so we can get out."

neither lauren or connor answer. your brows pull, arms crossing roughly across your flowing summer top. you can hear their hushed whispers through the door, which only raises your and leon's suspicion.

finally, lauren says, "actually, I think you guys should stay in there."

leon blinks hard. "what?"

"yeah, sorry repeat that, I don't think I heard you right. because it sounded like you want us to be stuck in here together." you add, body feeling hot and itchy as the situation comes to light. or maybe it's just because leon's standing close enough that is cologne is all you can smell—practically choking you at this point.

connor's sighs, "you guys need to work it out."

your eyes flutter in disbelief, and you take a step closer to the door like it's going to change something. "okay, how about we do that somewhere else?"

leon hums in agreement which makes you scowl.

"no." lauren huffs, her voice determined. and you know, like usual, once she has her mind set, she's not going to change it. "in our room. with no escape."

after their conversation in the uber a few days ago, lauren and connor decided that yes, they were actually going to get you and leon together and force you to reconcile. it was actually connor who said they should separately tell you that they needed help with the chef and the menu samples, and then while you were distracted trying to find them—which were actually in the kitchen, not the bedroom—they would shut you in the apartment.

so when they showed up, ready to shut the front door that's unlock didn't work if it was locked from the outside, they were surprised to find neither of you in sight. thanks to their coded bedroom, you'd been already trapped.

to which they say, tomato tamoto.

"this is ridiculous." leon huffs in annoyance, reaching out to tug on the brass door handle. the action annoys you, even though you were close to doing the same.

lauren laughs like it's a joke. "no what's ridiculous is ruining a wedding because you two can't stop lunging for each others necks." her voice is firm, definitive as she continues, "so you have an hour and by then you better be friends. or friendly. whatever."

"you can't serious." leon's laughing is laced with disbelief, not even sparing you a glance as he stares down the wood paneling of the bedroom door.

"deadly." she says, "see you guys in an hour. we're gunna run some errands." her voice slowly begins to fade, walking away and leaving you.

"I thought that’s what you were just doing," you call out.

"we lied."

soon enough you and leon are enveloped in the silence, and once lenny's little nails click down the hall, you are left completely alone.

you exhale a scoff, turning away and practically stomp back to the bed. leon watches you move with an unreadable expression, but you’re too busy throwing yourself down onto the bed to notice.

the blankets puffs around you. its own of those feathered ones that poke you once it starts getting wear and tear, and that makes you more annoyed that it should. but you chalk that up to already being baffled by being trapped in your best friends bedroom.

leon's voice breaks through the quiet room, "well now what?"

you sigh, sliding up onto your elbows to send him an unimpressed look. "don't you know, leon? this is the part where we get out the tea set and play!" the faux smile on your face quickly drops as you finish, and that makes leon rolls his eyes with agitation.

"you're ridiculous."

you don't say anything and send him one more exaggerated grin. you flop back against the mattress. it's actually a heavenly bed besides the blanket, which thankfully hasn't poked you yet.

the first 30 minutes is nothing but silent. the only sounds coming from the air conditioning unit humming lowly through the vents and the blanket shuffling under your body as you squirm. you can't help it, the silence is eating you alive.

"can you stop moving so much?"

you make a show of moving even more as you sit up on the bed, shuffling down to the edge and letting your legs dangle over the end. "i'm a bit restless, you know being trapped in a room with nothing but you and your loud breathing."

leon's brows furrow. "I don't breathe loud."

"you do," you confirm, "it's fucking annoying."

"ah," he chimes, "like your sporadic limbs."

"that's a big word, leon. have you been studying the dictionary like the bore you are?"

he breathes a scoff, "you wish I was a bore, y/n. that way you wouldn't be so obsessed with me."

"obsessed with you," you repeat, laughing, "you are so full of yourself!"

leon stands up, and your face falls, watching him through hooded lids as his jaw ticks, eyes pointed in your direction. just when you think he's going to walk closer to you, he turns, looking through the bookshelves like he hasn't done that already.

you swallow roughly, staring the his back as he moves—slowly—reading the spines of designer books and hockey novels. his tight t-shirt is doing him all the favours, wrapping around his body in a perfect fit to display the muscles he's worked hard on. sometimes, you forget leon is an athlete rather than just your friends friend, and you’re always crudely reminded by his bulging biceps or his abs in the summertime as he lounges by the pool—seeing him like that is a rude awakening.

thinking about leon's abs, dripping with water while he lounges poolside has you feeling a bit funny, and you blink. hard. pulling yourself out of your own head. oddly enough, your mind trickles to lauren and the many times she's referred to abs as washboards.

you sigh gently. getting into a verbal ring with her finances best friend is the last thing she needs to be dealing with right now. a rush of guilt washes over you, and as not only her bridesmaid but her closest friend, you know you need to abide her wishes and figure your shit out.

"leon." you say his name firmly.

he looks at you over his shoulder, one of his eyebrows raised in question as he waits for you to continue.

"we have to stop fighting. for lauren."

leon turns his body completely, facing you. "you think I don't know that, y/n?"

you huff. "I never said that you didn't, leon. but this is my best friend's wedding."

"and mine."

"god, do you always have something snarky to say back?" you ask, exasperated. "this is exactly what we can't be doing. at least i'm trying, leon. ugh! you drive me insane.

his eyes widen slightly, taking a subconscious step closer to you. "and you think you're just some angel?"

you shake your head, shooting off the bed until you're standing—a subconscious attempt at trying to give yourself some leverage. "I think that you're stubborn and can't accept my ideas."

"and what 'Ideas' might those be?" he asks, mockingly.

"we need to pretend to get along," you pitch, voice still laced with venom and irritation. "if we can't get over this thing between us, then we have to fake it. you have to pretend like you can at least tolerate me—that you can stand to be in the same room as me without ripping me a new one."

his expression is unreadable, jaw tight and eyes unmoving as he looks down at you. then, slowly, his gaze changes. "you want me to act like you don't drive me insane?"

your face falls slightly at his tone—a tone that has a weird feeling bubbling low in your belly. you nod.

leon purses his lips, looking away from your face to take a deep, long inhale like he's trying to clam himself. it's making you feel woozy. he looks back at you, something like frustration clouding his expression. "you want me to just pretend that you don't make me want to argue every little thing you say? like everything little thing you do frustrates me in ways I cant explain?"

your lips part, searching for words that aren't there. the way leon is looking at you, with so much tension and frustration has you faltering. you've never been speechless in his presence, and leon knows that—he sees that—and takes the opportunity to continue.

"have I finally got you to shut your mouth? or do you want me to keep going?"

your breathe hitches, a wave of heat flushing over your summer tanned skin. the way his gaze is unwavering and so intense has your blood pumping so hard that the only thing you can hear is the heavy breathing between you.

"please," slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, the plea whiny and surprising to you—desperate.

leon exhales shakily, but the sound is just as desperate as the breath that gets caught in your throat. he lunges towards you, one hand sliding through your hair and tugging while the other finds the dip of your waist, dragging you against him as he kisses you.

his lips caress yours hungrily, sucking and licking along the plump flesh almost instantly. it's hurried and messy and intoxicating. both your your panting is combined, mixing with breathy groans and clashing of tongues and teeth. it's dirty and it's sure as hell needy.

and maybe it’s because you haven’t been with a man in years, or maybe it’s simply because you’re annoyed with the situation. but you want leon.

he grunts into your mouth, fisting your hair hard enough to illicit a whine from you. your hands, which were previously stationed over his torso, running over his shirt like a mad woman, slide into leon's hair, feeling his soft locks between your fingers—painted red nails scratching against his scalp.

his hands cascade down your body, wrapping around the backs of your thighs. before you can register what's happening, leon hauls you off the ground and drops you down against the feather filled duvet.

everything is hurried between you and leon, including the continuing kiss. his hands are running all over your body—up your thighs as he hovers over you, sliding under your summer top and feeling your soft, supple skin. and you're not any better, squeezing his arms and holding his face.

there's a burning tension between you, like there always is, expect now your irritation and frustration is channeled into a kiss—a hot, messy exchange that is leaving you so turned on.

leon's lips trail over your jaw, nipping and suckling along your skin like he can't get enough of your taste. you're withering against him, gasping as his lips travel down your neck, finding your pulse point and sucks.

the beeping sound echos through the room, barley audible over your panting and low moans, but you both hear it. the door is about to open. you pull away from one another at lightning speed, leon getting off the bed completely as he swallows thickly.

you run your hand through your messy hair just as the bedroom door opens, revealing a curious looking connor and a hesitant looking lauren. they're both eyeing you, but it's connor who speaks first. "so? can we count on you guys behaving?"

you blink before looking over at leon. but he's not looking at you, only at connor as he nods once—firmly. then leon walks out of the room, brushing past his teammate and fiancé without so much as a second glance at you.

you gulp, a million emotions clawing at your flushed chest.

lauren still looks unconvinced, raising one of her perfectly plucked brows in your direction—eyeing your slight pant and hazy eyes. "everything go okay."

"yeah," you nod, the smallest scoff leaving you. "and if it didn't, we can just pretend." the word feels like venom on your tongue. there's a part of you that thinks what just happened between you and leon was all pretend. a regretful moment that was nothing more than a source to channel pent up frustration and years of anger.

it meant nothing. leon still hates you. and you...don't know what the fuck just happened.

—

like you suspected, lauren throws you a birthday party. a surprise one at that, even though you knew exactly what was going on when connor texted you and asked you for help on picking out flowers for the rehearsal dinner.

bad distraction on his part, because lauren ordered the flowers for the rehearsal dinner two weeks ago while you were beside her. you went along anyways, and even acted surprised when everyone jumped out from different areas of the mcdavid/kyle condo.

lauren squeezes you tightly, "happy birthday!"

"thanks," you hug her back just as tightly, "I told you that you didn't need to do anything like this. I would've been happy with some wine and reruns of friends."

she rolls her eyes fondly, guiding you further into the crowded home. "I know you would've been, but I certainly wouldn't have." and that's the most lauren thing she could've said, and it makes your smile grow wide.

there's a lot of people here, you note. mostly mutual friends and connor's teammates and their significant others. it's decorated beautifully, with all your favourite picky foods laid out on the island and a makeshift bar along with it.

people greet you enthusiastically, wishing you a happy birthday as you make your rounds through the party, lauren at your side—who you're pretty sure is already halfway to hammered.

mikayla nurse gives you a bear hug, which she always does, and darnell follows suit. "happy birthday!" he says, pulling back and taking his original seat on one of the barstools against the stark white island. ryan nugent hopkins and his girl do the same, all of you flowing into easy conversation.

mikayla is in the middle of talking about something funny her oldest did before her and darnell left, when your body ignites. it's an odd feeling, but one you're used to at this point. subtly, your gaze shifts down the island and that's when you see him.

leon is leaning on the counter causally, fingers running along the neck of a beer bottle as zach hyman and him talk about whatever it is they're talking about—frankly, you don't care to know what their discussing.

you haven't seen or heard from leon since your kiss 3 days ago. you weren't expecting to feel so many emotions after getting kissed by your mortal enemy, but you are. you think it probably has to do with how he just up and left afterwards, like he couldn't give a fuck about you, which in hindsight he probably doesn't. he never has, your brain reminds you.

as if he can feel your state, his eyes flicker to yours. leon's expression changes, so subtle that it's almost unnoticeable. his fingers still on the beer bottle. you look away just as quick as you looked, turning your attention back to the group in front of you—nodding along like you know what they're in the middle of talking about.

you need a shot. or 6.

and shots you have. lauren is the one who starts it, like usual, insisting that the birthday girl needed a celebratory shot of tequila. then that turned into two, and then three and before you know it you can barley feel your limbs. you're loose, and happy and very much drunk.

it makes being in the same room as leon more tolerable for the mere fact that you keep forgetting he's there. it's only when he laughs too loudly, or someone says his name in your vicinity that you find yourself searching for him. not without immediately cursing yourself for it though.

it's nearing 2 in the morning when lauren grabs on to your arm, her expression hopeful and excited. "oh my god," she slurs, "we need to go swim."

you gasp with enthusiasm. "yes! oh my god, lauren I love you so much—what a good fucking Idea."

everyone has left by now. going home to their kids and going to sleep. the thought makes you feel a little down, because the only person you're going home to is damon fucking salvatore. ah, yes the old birthday depression moment. but thankfully lauren snaps you out of it, dragging you out of the apartment and down the hall to the rooftop.

the heavy metal door clicks open, revealing the blue light of the large pool. it smells so good—like summer—and you groan. "oh my god, yes!"

neither you or lauren bother stripping, and you jump into the pool fully clothed. the water splashes therapeutically as you are submerged under the warm water. it feels amazing, and you kick your legs until you're breaking through the surface.

lauren giggles, treading her hands over the waters surface. "it feels so good."

"I know," you agree quickly, eyes fluttering in bliss.

"lauren." connor's voice is stern, but there's a hint of amusement there that he only saves for his fiancé and her drunk shenanigans. "we're not supposed to be out here at night. let's go."

you didn't even notice he followed you guys out here and you blink in surprise—you also giggle, which has connor sending you a sharp look.

lauren makes a fart noise, but lets her fiancé help her out of the pool. water drips off her clothes like a waterfall, soaking the pavement under her feet. connor ushers her back to the door, saying something that you can't quite make out before leaving you alone.

the water is sobering you up a little, but you're still tipsy enough that everything feels like silk. you dip your head back, soaking your hair and covering the tips of your ears.

you're floating, listening to the muffled sounds of the city night life below. its peaceful, and you think you could stay out here forever. your eyes are only fluttering closed for a moment, and when you open them again you see leon.

he's watching you, hands on his hips from the side of the pool—looking anything but amused. you hadn't even noticed him come out, but you also didn't notice connor so that doesn't mean anything.

too drunk to be scared by his sudden appearance, you just laugh, swimming into an upright position and facing leon. your tank top is sticking to your skin uncomfortably, and if you were sober you'd probably be having a sensory overload.

"get out of the pool" his voice is demanding and unarguable.

you lazily shread water, blinking the pool sting out of your eyes. "why would I do what you ask me to?"

leon scoffs a half hearted laugh, looking away from you momentarily. when he meets your gaze again, you’re still grinning—a little up to no good smirk that has leon gulping. "don't be annoying," he says, "get out before something happens. like connor said, you're not supposed to be in here."

"oh wow is that a threat, mr. drasitail?" you laugh.

he tongues his cheek, "you're drunk."

you toe the rough side of the pool and gently kick off, sending yourself back floating through the water. "tipsy, but sure." leon's shoulder deflate in what's surely annoyance, and he runs a hand over his face. even drunk, you know you're being difficult, but you're not going to give up that easy. "you know, you can't annoy me today. it's my birthday."

leon licks his teeth slowly. he tries to keep his eyes off you and your completely see through tank top as you glide through the water, but he can't help himself, gaze flickering back to you. "I wouldn't have to annoy you if you'd just get out of the pool."

your shoulders drop. "you're such a buzz kill," you grumble, swimming to the edge of the pool once again, right in front of leon. your hands grip the edge, and you blink up at him with wet lashes. "can you at least help me out?"

he gulps, adam's apple bobbling under his stubbled skin. "legs broken or something?" he mumbles with something unknown lacing his tone—doubt, disbelief, want—as he looks into your wet eyes.

you ignore him, raising your palm in his direction and wiggling your fingers. for a moment the action sends you off balance, and you begin slipping backwards. leon’s eyes widen, twitching is if he's going to reach out and grab you, but you catch yourself before he can.

he huffs again, gaze darting between your hand and daring eyes. “don't leave me hanging on my birthday, leon,” you say.

"it's not your birthday anymore, y/n." leon deadpans after a moment.

you pout and he sighs, closing the distance between you and taking your slick palm in his. just before he pulls you out, you use the leverage to tug his arm down towards you, sending leon off balance and into the pool next to you with a loud splash.

he breaks the surface at record speed, looking at you with what can only be described as frustration. he splutters, wiping his face of chlorine scented water droplets. "seriously?"

you bite your tongue in an attempt to mask your growing smirk, "you looked hot."

"thanks," he mumbles playfully, shoulders dripping under the water as he treads.

"don't flatter yourself." you huff, momentarily stopping your own feet from treading water to nudge his leg under the surface.

a beat passes. the sounds of rippling water and heavy breathing the only things to be heard between you.

leon breaks the tension, voice gruff. "are you going to get out now?"

you shrug, and your chin dips under the surface. "are you not going to ask me how my birthday was?" ask comes out in a slur, and it makes leon's jaw tick.

"if I do will you get out of the pool?"

"yes." you grin softly, chin submerging once again.

"okay." he hums, looking very much unimpressed. "how was your birthday?"

your grin deepens, "it was good," you say, "got everything I could've ever asked for."

"mhmm," he hums, brow raised curiously, "and what did you ask for? one of those grow your own boyfriends?"

you laugh, the sound forced and very much sarcastic. "just a dart board with your face on it, actually."

he blows out some air, very amused, "ou good one." then like a child he shakes out his hair, water sliding off his strands and spraying you.

"hey!" you shout, turning your face away from the water attack.

"relax," he chimes, "you're not going to melt."

you look back at leon, a look of amused disbelief flashing over your features as your lip tugs upwards. "maybe I will. I am a witch after all."

leon hesitates, something he rarely does. he wants to look away, your wet lashes and pink lips too intense—too tempting—but he forces himself to to hold your unknowing gaze. "you're something."

your mouth parts, "you're something." you repeat, voice all high pitched and mocking as you splash some water in his direction, the small wave hitting his chin.

he licks onto his lower lip, watching your smile grow as you wait for his next move. just when you think you're not going to get a rise out of him, leon moves. he grabs your ankle under the water, so quick that it makes you squeal, and pulls you against his chest.

the laughter that had previously been bubbling up and past your lips comes to a sharp halt, and you’re left blinking in surprise as your body intertwines with leon's. you're both completely clothed, but it feels like your stark naked. the heat between you is implausible, chest heaving and breathes mingling.

his hand grips your knee firmly before he releases—but he’s not done. leon fingers skim up your thigh, so gentle that it's ticklish. you want to squirm, but you're too scared it will end the tension filled moment. his palm runs over your hip, feeling your soaked jean shorts under his palm.

your breath catches, the sound just gentle enough to reach leon's ears. his eyes dart to your wet, plump lips and he feels himself twitch. when his eyes meet yours again, you swallow, arms slowing down in the thread.

"are you going to kiss me and then leave again like nothing happened?" you don't have time to curse your drunk tongue, because leon answers almost instantly, voice surprisingly smooth and clear, but still deep enough to have your stomach swoop.

"you want me to do that?" he asks you, pushing some wet hair off your shoulder, further exposing your sun kissed, freckled skin.

you lick your bottom lip. "depends what part you're talking about."

his eyes dart back down to yours lips at the sight, watching as your tongue swipes along your lip. your faces are so close that the tips of your noses are almost brushing. you're practically panting, wrapped around leon like a koala as he threads water for the both of you.

you could be staring at each other for 20 minutes, or twenty seconds. you're unsure. time has gone completely still, slowing down like sticky molasses as you and leon exchange longing, needy stares.

your mouth opens, ready to beg him once again, but he unwraps you from his body, hands finding your hips and lifting you out of the pool. you blink, shock and confusion flashing on your face as leon sits you on the edge.

he doesn't look at you as he pulls himself out of the pool effortlessly, but you watch him. his biceps flex under his once light gray, soaked t-shirt, and if you weren't so overcome with frustration and confusion you'd be blushing.

he gets up on to his feet, "let's go, y/n." leon's tone leaves no room for argument, and he's already waking towards the heavy, metal door that leads back to the condo complex.

you scoff, getting up onto your own feet. "dick," you mumble to yourself, lips tugging down in a frown and gaze pointed as you watch leon's retreating figure.

you don't know if he hears your curse, but if he doesn't he doesn't turn around to dispute with you. you could be annoying, jump back in the pool and make him drown in his own frustration. but you don't. you're tired, shocked, angry and most of all, embarrassed.

—

"y/n!" lauren says your name happily, and tipsily, stumbling over to you through the party bus and practically falling into your lap. she smiles, thrusting a shot of some white liquor in your direction, "do this shot with me!"

you smile and that's when you notice she's got the same liquor in her shot glass—a gift from alannah hyman. it's milky white and says bride in script on the side in big, sparkly letters.

you take the shot from her, "are you trying to get me drunk before we even get there?"

she nudges it closer to your mouth, a giggle spilling past her painted lips. "well it is a wedding party! so yes."

fondly, your eyes roll which only makes lauren squawk. you send her a real smile before bringing the glass to your mouth and tipping it back, downing the shot of what you know know is vodka, in a huge gulp.

your grimace, body doing a funny little shiver as the liquor coats your throat and warms your skin. the air conditioning isn't a match for the humid july night, and you're practically dripping with sweat. actually, everyone on the bus is dripping with sweat, but most of them are already so tipsy that it doesn't matter.

when lauren told you in addition to separate bachelor and bachelorette parties she was going to throw a joint one, you were a little hesitant. I mean, you love your friend and will do anything to make her happy—so you bit your tongue—but the idea of having to spend even more time with leon has your blood curdling, especially after the whole pool indecent a few days ago.

once again, you haven't seen leon since the almost kiss in the pool, which has you feeling even more embarrassed than before. you're not sure what's been unlocked with leon, but since your actual kiss in lauren and connor's bedroom almost a week ago, there's been a funny feeling lingering in your head.

you're not sure what it is, or how it makes you feel. all you do know is that it makes you hot and nervous and angry all at once. so really, nothing has changed.

so today, you'd been feeling extremely anxious. you thought about reaching out to leon—having his number saved from many years of being in the same random group chats—but you decide against it. after all, he's clearly not interested in fixing the hostility between you, and you're not going to be some desperate, submissive girl who just backs down and lets him win. absolutely not.

when you were all piling onto the party bus, leon nowhere in sight, you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement (and maybe a little disappointment, but you don't even admit that to yourself). when you casually asked connor about it in passing, he looked at pointedly, "he's got some shit he needs to figure out with his agent, so he's going to meet us there."

you couldn't even hide your eye roll at that. you think the real reason he's not traveling on the party busy is because he probably just didn't want to get forced to dance on the stripper pole in the middle of the bus—he's so boring.

the bus comes to halt outside the bustling club, and everyone inside cheers. so loudly it makes your cringe a little, but you digress. lauren wraps her arm around yours, bringing you both off the bus and into the modern, sleek night club.

the music inside is instantly deafening, some kendrick lamar song that you've heard on the radio for three months straight. you're already feeling buzzed from the shot in the bus, and the one you did at connor and lauren's before your ride came.

"hey!" connor comes up behind you both, wrapping his arm around his fiancés waist as he speaks over the music. "we've got a table booked on the platform, so I'm gunna get up there."

lauren grins, placing a smacking kiss against the corner of his mouth. "okay," she shouts, "we're gunna dance."

he nods with one of those reserved-for-only-lauren grins before leaving you both, making his way through the crowd with the bachelor party.

lauren shakes your arm excitedly, "let's get a drink and then fucking dance, baby!"

you easily get lost in the feeling of the music and the warmth of the crowd. you and lauren dance together for what feels like hours, downing shots and sipping cocktails until way past the achy feeling starts in your feet. other girls from the bachelorette party join in, all of you screaming along to lyrics and dancing against one another like silly, drunk college kids.

leon walks into the club around 10, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to go home. for days he's been flustered and angry, brain scrambled with a mess of thoughts—working overtime and keeping him up at night. the meeting with his agent ended almost two hours ago, but he needed time to collect himself before joining the wedding party.

before seeing you.

connor's brother spots him first, calling his name in a sing song voice that instantly has leon peeking up, plastering on a smile as he climbs the stairs of the platform. the boys begin chatting his name like a group of seagulls, gathering the attention of many lingering bystanders in the night club—it makes leon shiver with discomfort. but thankfully, no one notices.

he's never been a fan of crowds, or attention, but being one of hockey's biggest stars quickly had him getting used to it. bars and clubs though, they will never be his thing.

someone thrusts a beer bottle in his hand, and he takes it greedily, popping off the cap before taking three large gulps. the foam coats his lips, dripping down his chin before he wipes it away.

the platform overlooks the face floor. it's secluded enough to feel private, but still open enough to not feel like you're missing out on the fun. leon finds himself looking through the crowd, beer bottle handing loosely in his grip as he searches.

it's not hard to find you, or any of the girls for that matter. you're all wearing variations of white and cream, which glows blue in the black lights scattered around the club. you're dancing against lauren, hands up in the air as you sway and sing along to some mainstream pop song leon has never heard.

you're covered in a sheer layer of sweat, making your tan skin glow. you look happy, and so tempting. as if you can feel his stare, your eyes find his. as they meet, your movements falter, and your face drops.

leon swallows roughly, pushing off the balcony and forcing himself to break eye contact. his blood feels like it's boiling, burning him from the inside out. he forces another mouthful of beer down, turning his attention back to some of connor's childhood buddies, easily sliding into their conversation.

your teeth clench as your eyes linger on the place leon was just stood, watching you with an unreadable expression. everything feels too constricting now, too warm. it feels like his eyes are still on you—even when you turn back to lauren and she starts doing a terrible rendition of the sprinkler. you can't shake him.

so when a large hand wraps around your waist, and an attractive man appears behind you, you don't stop him. he's not super tall, and his hair is so dark it's almost pure black. clean shaven, with soft hands and smelling like smoke and whiskey.

he's nothing like leon, and that makes you grin. you allow yourself to get wrapped up in the man, dancing with him like your life depends on it. his breathe is warm against your ear, "you're really sexy." his fingers dig into your arm, almost too roughly.

but you smile regardless, "you use that line on all the girls?"

"can't give away my secrets." he grins. his smile is nowhere as nice at leon's though. the man licks onto his bottom lip slowly, "wanna get out of here?"

you hum thoughtfully, looking around the crowded dance floor. when you meet mystery man's eyes, he's hopeful, and it makes you sigh regretfully. "sorry, i'm here with my friends."

"ah."

"yeah," you nod, "thanks for the dance but clearly we're not on the wavelength here. i'm gunna get back to them." you turn, but before you can disappear back into the heart of the dance floor, he grabs your arm.

leon is practically burning as he watches you dance with the short, finance looking bro from the platform. his teeth are aching from how hard he's clenching, and he's pretty sure the glass bottle is about to crack in his palm.

he's angry. he's in disbelief. he's fucking jealous. leon has never felt this level of jealousy before, and he's not even sure if that's what it actually is. it's a white hot fire stick, poking at his chest until he recoils.

you're laughing. and smiling. the guys hands low on your back and running over your hips. a few nights ago that was leon touching you there, and that only fuels his frustration. he watches the two of you talk, a hesitant look on your face that has his stomach dropping.

he stands up straighter, shoulders rigid. leon's scowling at the mystery guy, whispering in your ear as he says whatever shitty pickup line leon has no doubt the dudes used on multiple woman in this club.

then you start walking away, and relief begins to trickle in his bloodstream. unfortunately it doesn't last long, because when the guy reaches for you, grabbing you arm and tugging you back towards him, leon sees red.

you squeak at the feeling of the man's hand on your bicep, squeezing you hard enough that you can feel it in your bones.

"we can keep dancing," he tells you, firmly, "i'm not some dick who's going to act like getting rejected is a personal attack."

you tug your arm away, "i'm sorry, but i'm done dancing right now. it was nice meeting you."

the man's laugh makes you shiver unpleasantly. "you got a boyfriend or something? is that why you're acting like a-" his words are cut short as leon's fist flies, hitting him across the face in a quick, hard punch.

you gasp, a sickening crack echoing in your ears as his knuckles connects with the guys nose. he grabs it, blood seeping through his fingers and dripping onto his blue button up.

leon's not phased, flexing his fingers causally—like he didn't just punch a random guy in the face.

"oh my god," you shout, rushing forward to check on the guy and his obviously damaged face. the crowd stops all around you, whispering and pointing at the scene like it's a movie. your mouth opens, shocked, looking between the mystery guy and leon. "what the fuck!"

leon huffs, sending you a sharp glance before turning on his heels and pushing through the crowd. it feels like everyone is looking at him, judging him, and it has him feeling breathless. angrily, he shoves the doors of the nightclub open, stepping out onto the sidewalk and taking a deep breathe.

he rubs the back of his neck roughly, a curse leaving his lips. leon feels embarrassed about letting his emotions take control like that, but the anger seeing that guy grabbing you—pulling you—has his embarrassment fading away, replaced with fury.

the air feel nice, even though the july air is humid and thick, it's much better the the stuffy club. leon walks to the stone half wall that frames the greeny along the club, taking a seat on the lip with another rough sigh. he's only alone for about a minute before the club doors swing open, and you come storming out.

your eyes are wide—frantic even—searching the sidewalk until your eyes land on him. that's when your face falls, arms crossed defensively as you stare at him.

leon swallows, shrugging his shoulders. "is he hurt?" he asks, even though he already saw the answer.

"his nose is broken." you deadpan.

"good." he hums, checking his knuckles quickly. ones split, but he'll fix it later.

you laugh in disbelief, "good?"

"yeah," he confirms, eyes finding yours again. you've stepped closer in the time he was looking at his hand, and you look even angrier up close. "he shouldn't of touched you like that."

you shake your head. "I can handle myself."

leon snorts. "clearly not, y/n."

you make a scoffing noise, arms tightening further across the white dress wrapped tightly across your chest. "I was actually having a good time," you start, voice firm but tinged with something else, "but thanks to you, my night is ruined."

"I know you y/n," he deadpans, standing up from the wall, "your idea of a good time and his idea of a good time is vastly different. he was going to try something." leon walks closer to you, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them.

the tone of his voice, so frustrated, has you shocked. the audacity of leon to be upset with you after he punched a poor guy in the face is beyond you. your arms uncross, falling against your hips with a smack. "and so what?" you question, "what's it matter to you? why do you care?"

your voice has gotten louder, more venomous. it makes leon laugh roughly, looking down you with cynicism. "why do I care?" he practically shouts, reaching out and almost touching your exposed shoulder. "you're..." leon stops himself, a gentle curse leaving him. he huffs loudly, running a hand down his face in a slow but rough way.

a moment passes. cars passing and honking down the street, club music vibrating the concrete below your heels. your eyes don’t leave leon's figure, which is practically vibrating with emotion.

you swallow, voice much more quiet when you say, "I'm what?"

"ungrateful." he grunts.

your lips pull into a frown as the bridge of your nose begins to string. "screw you." with one more furious look in his direction, you turn heel, shoes clicking on the pavement as you make your way back to the nightclub's entrance.

you're so angry. it's fuelling your blood stream and stopping your feet. your arms cross again, eyes pinched as you turn back around. you're not done with him yet. "do you ever think about things before opening your mouth?"

leon looks shocked momentarily, but he recovers quickly. he shoves his hands into his jean pockets, nodding slowly. "yes."

"oh really?" you ask, "like when?"

"I thought about not answering your question just now."

"oh grow up!"

"i'm grown."

"really?" you ask wildly, "is that why you punched a guy in the face?"

"a guy who deserved it!"

"for dancing with me?"

"for touching what's not his."

that has you faltering, leon's words hitting you like a slap to the face. he knows that what he just said was possessive—uncalled for. he has no right to say that to you, you're certainly not his to claim. it's the jealously getting the best of him and wanting to make you feel how he's feeling.

and it worked. guilt tickles your skin and pales your face, looking back at leon with a straight face. you feel like you've done something wrong by dancing with that guy—like you've done him wrong. "oh, okay then," you start, voice timid and so gentle that it has leon faltering. "who's am I? please enlighten me."

he knows he can't keep going down this route with you. he'll regret it. leon takes a slow, deep breath, shaking his head. "i'm not playing this game."

that's rich, you think, considering he's the one who starts all these stupid games you find yourself unable to untangle yourself from. you can't help but laugh with false humor, "oh but you love games!"

"y/n," leon sighs tiredly, "stop."

connor comes bustling out of the club, and much like your expression and wandering eyes from 5 minutes ago, he's looking for leon just like you had. once he spots you in a stand off, leon's jaw tight and your eyes misty, he all but stomps up to the both of, face painted and livid. "are you guys seriously fighting? on top of everything else that happened tonight. I thought you guys stopped this fucking shit " he looks at you, still frustrated, "lauren is going to be pissed, y/n."

leon steps towards his friend calmly, despite his firm tone, "it's not y/n’s fault." he says definitively, a flash of protectiveness flashing over his face.

connor blinks, confused, looking between the pair of you. his jaw is tense, tendon popping under his beard as he tries to clam himself down. seeing his best friend punch a guy in the face for seemingly no reason, which obviously made his fiancé upset, combined with walking out and catching the two of you arguing when you'd already told lauren everything was squashed between you and leon, has connor spinning.

leon continues, "we're fine."

"are we?" you question, pettily.

connor shakes his head, a breathless laugh leaving him. the tension between the two of you is undeniable, and it doesn't matter what you say—you're arguing and leon's fight has ruined the night. "leon," he starts, eyeing his friend firmly, "you need to go. both of you. drive y/n home and while you're at it, make sure this shit between you gets sorted. for good."

"okay." leon nods after a tense moment, fishing his keys from his pocket and walking down the sidewalk. he glances back at you, "let's go, y/n." he doesn't sound angry anymore, but he is still very definitive with his tone.

it has you moving, following behind him timidly, arms crossed tightly and tears fall freely down your cheeks. the damage has been done. your drunk and tired. that combined with your argument, and connor's scolding has you feeling very guilty and emotional.

leon unlocks his porsche, the beep echoing through the back parking lot of the night club. it's the car he's always had ever since you've known him, and you always mockingly call it his, 'big fancy sports call', everytime you see it. yes, it's a porsche but not a sports model—leon never corrects you though.

but you stay silent behind him, the only sound coming from you is your shoes on the ground. it has leon pausing. he attempts to glance at you quickly—sneakily—but as he catches the sight of your glistening tears under the moonlight, everything shifts.

the sight makes him swallow down the immediate rising guilt and regret that threatens to make its way out of him, halting his movements by the passenger door of his car. you sniff, eyes downcast.

it sends a pang through his heart, sighing softly as he faces you fully. "come on."

your chin trembles and you shake your head. he watches as you dig through top of your dress, pulling out your phone from where it rested beside your boob. you begin thumbing the screen, unaware of how your boob is now practically spilling out of your dress, sitting perfectly plump and bulged in a way that makes leon shift.

"i'm ordering an uber," you mumble, blinking through tears as you try to navigate the uber app.

"no," leon breathes, opening the passenger door with an echoing click. "you're not getting in an uber while you're drunk and alone."

you roll your wet eyes. "connor would let me."

"i'm not connor."

you pause, eyes flickering up to meet leon's. he gestures to the open car, a pleading look in his gaze. not in the mood to fight any more, you sniffle, turning off your cell before dragging yourself to the passenger seat.

leon's shoulders slump in relief, moving to the side so you're able to get into his car properly. once you're seated, leon shuts the door and rounds the front to the driver's side, where he lets himself in.

you keep your eyes forward as he starts the car, letting the engine roar to life as he clicks his seatbelt into place. he glances at you gingerly, "put your seatbelt on."

you sigh but do so. once he hears the dull click of the buckle, leon releases a tension filled sigh, shifting the car into drive before slowly pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road.

you really wish you could stop crying, but controlling your emotions have never been your strong suit—fighting with leon for years because he didn't smile at you one time is enough proof of that. your quiet hiccups are heard throughout the car, too tired to attempt to mask them. your arms are crossed again, like you're trying to hug yourself. your chest shakes with every breath, inhale or exhale, as your continue to cry, eyes trained out the windshield.

you won't look at him. you can't look at him. you're embarrassed and still a little angry, and you've given leon enough of your range of emotions in the past week that he's probably sick of then by now—more than he normally is.

the car slows at a red light, the rumbling of the engine coming to a quiet hum as the car completely halts. leon taps the steering wheel with two fingers, licking his teeth as he glances at you. "why are you crying, y/n?"

his words bring another round of tears to your eyes. you huff, sniffling away your running nose. "because."

"just because?" leon pushes gently, eyes flickering back to the traffic light to check its status. still red. he looks back at you, bathed in the red glow. "c'mon, help me out a little bit here."

the sincerity of his voice makes you frown. in that moment you're in desperate need of an outlet, someone or something to talk to in hopes that your tears will stop. and right now, you don't care if that person is leon, especially with the way he's looking at you—despite his deadpanned expression, there's still a softness underneath it all.

you nod, as if you're convincing yourself to confide in him. with another sob and trembling breath, you say, "lauren is going to hate me now."

the lights changes to green, and leon blinks, turning away from you and shifting the car into drive. a moment passes before he sighs softly, shaking his head, "she's not going to hate you." he says, glancing at you quickly.

"i've ruined the night." you counter, bringing your knees up to your chest to cradle yourself. your dress shifts, sliding dangerously high on your thigh, and the sight has leon internally cursing, he licks onto his bottom lip, forcing himself to look away from your soft skin.

"you didn't ruin anything," he reassures you, "I was the one who got all...angry and punched that guy. trust me, lauren will be okay. you'll be okay." leon pauses, eyes flickering away from the deserted road and over to your tear stained face. "besides, how could anyone ever hate you?"

your lips part and you shift your head to look at leon. his expression in unreadable, but he barley lets you analyze it because he's turning his attention back to the road. finally, you find your voice. "you hate me."

leon shifts gears, and he does it so smoothly that you don't even jolt in your seat. that also means you don't look away from his side profile, eyes pointed and curious as you await his response.

"I could never hate you, y/n." he swallows, adam's apple bobbing under his stubble. leon doesn't look at you yet. he can't.

"that's a lie," you mean to sound firm, but your words come out nothing short of a whisper. your brows pull tightly, confusion etched across your forehead. "because you do hate me."

that makes leon falter, glancing over to you after he shift into a different lane. "do I?"

you don't answer, mostly because you're unsure what kind of response leon is looking for. you tear your eyes away from him, looking back out through the windshield and keeping your gaze trained on the pavement as it disappears under the car.

leon sighs to himself, running a hand through his messy hair. he eyes you again, but you're still not looking at him. your face is tight, but you've stopped crying for the most part, only the occasional tear that slides over your salty tight skinned cheek. a flash of fear comes over him—what if you're too uncomfortable with what he said to cry?

leon curses. the last thing he wants to do right now is make you feel worse. his eyes trail over your body as he hits another red light. your legs are still pulled up, hands wrapped around your calves like you're cradling yourself. it makes his heart sink, but then he sees it. your nails.

the usual flame red you wear is replaced by a neutral colour, accompanied by white french. his mouth opens before his brain can catch up, "taking a break from the red?" leon's words have you blinking, looking back at him curiously. his eyes flick down to your hands, "your nails."

"oh," you hum. you hadn't even known that leon had noticed the little red nail detail you've been committed to for years. the colour you'd pick solely because leon didn't like it. thinking about it now makes you feel a bit silly, but something about leon mentioning it has you feeling fuzzy. "yeah," you clear your throat, sliding your hands between your thighs shyly, hiding them from his sight. "lauren wants us all to have french tips for the wedding."

"that's a shame," leon sighs, stepping on the gas as the light changes. "you look good in red."

"you hate the colour red." you say quietly— cautiously.

"doesn't mean I hate it on you."

a beat passes as you sit with that confession. your drunk brain has a difficult time pacing the pieces together, brows furrowed in confusion as you keep your eyes trained on leon. you breathe a laugh that sounds like a scoff. "why are you being so nice to me?" you question, "is it just because im upset?"

"not just because you're upset," he replies quickly, "i've been enough of a dick to you to last a lifetime. and I know how important lauren is to you, and how much you want to fix this thing between us before the wedding so she's happy." leon stops himself, swallowing roughly as he looks back at you. "i'm trying my best to start fixing it."

"what is this thing between us?"

his thumbs strokes the leather wrapping around the steering wheel, "whatever you want it to be."

you make a funny noise. "what kind of answer is that?"

leon can't help the way his top lip twitches, the smallest grin threatening to take over. "the right one for how drunk and upset you are."

"I don't like that answer either."

that does make him smile. "I know you don't."

silence fills the car after that. you let your legs fall back to the ground, feeling much more relaxed then when you first got in. and leon notices out of the corner of his eye, which makes his shoulders drop in relief. they ache slightly from how tense he'd been, but he can't even think of that right now.

not when you start to talk, voice curious and gentle. "how come you hit that guy?"

he sighs lowly, not taking his eyes off the road as he flicks on his signal, car turning into the parking garage of your apartment complex. you blink in surprise—leon hadn't even asked for directions once. he remembers where you live.

"when you're upset, it's makes me crazy," he starts shamelessly, hands tightening around the wheel as he recalls the scene at the nightclub less than an hour ago. "and tonight, when that asshole grabbed your arm and the tiniest flash of distress crossed your features, I didn't even think." leon looks at you quickly, meeting your intent gaze. it makes him look away just as fast. "not only was I jealous but I was so fucking angry that I just lashed out."

he pulls into an empty parking spot, which is thankfully a few steps away from the elevator. leon shifts the car into park before he looks at you again. when he sees the slow smile on your face, his stomach swoops.

before he has a chance to question why you look so...pleased, you begin to talk. "wait, you were jealous?" you ask him, eyebrow raised curiously.

leon's neck feels hot, and he forces himself to laugh, even though the sound comes across awkward. he rubs the back of his neck and looks away from you, which only makes you giggle. "okay, let's not dwell on it." he mutters.

"oh my god," you tease, "big tough leon draisaitl was jealous."

"y/n."

"this is amazing"

his eyes twinkle with amusement. "i'm trying to apologize," leon tells you, the smallest smile pulling at his lips.

"I know," you grin, "I never thought this day would come! should I get my phone out and take a video of this? post it on my story so everyone can see?"

leon rolls his eyes fondly as you laugh, head falling back against the head rest as you look at him. you obviously are just teasing him, and that has leon's heart strings tugging. "are you done?"

"with this?" you question, knowingly, "never."

the smile that follows that is different, one of those smiles that you only save for lauren and when you're talking on the phone to your family. leon almost wants to get his phone out now and snap a picture of you—because he's never seen anything more beautiful.

—

the muskoka air bnb is beautiful. so much so that it doesn't even feel real. it's decorated in white, with lots of neutral florals and greenery that line not only the main house, but the multiple guests house littering the property.

connor and lauren had flown the wedding party out yesterday, and you had been so exhausted from travel, as well as trying to not stare at leon for the duration of the flight that as soon as you arrived you passed out.

since leon drove you home from the night club a few days ago, there's been a major shift. you'd seen him a few days afterwards at a dinner hosted by lauren's parents for the wedding party and family, and obviously he attended. there was a part of you that thought he'd ignore you like he always did, but he actually smiled at you. a half grin from across the room as he held a champagne flute that made your stomach flip.

and then two days ago, the day before traveling to muskoka, leon texted you. you were in such a shock from seeing his name flash across your screen, that you almost forgot to answer him. after 30 minutes you finally responded to his message, asking if you wanted a ride to the airport tomorrow—to which your answer was thanks. that be great, leon :)

immediately you cringed at your own message. it made you feel like a school girl with a highschool crush who was trying to come across casual but was miserably failing—wait, are you a school girl with a highschool crush who was trying to come across casual but was miserably failing? just as immediate you pushed that thought away, storing it on the back burner to later dissect.

this weekend is not about you or the sudden butterflies in your stomach when you think about leon—who a week ago, you thought couldn't stand you. you're still not sure if he even likes you, despite everything. so yeah, back burner it goes.

when you woke up today, much closer to the afternoon than the morning, you'd be in for a surprise when you walked down the hallway of your designated guest house and saw leon standing in the kitchen, sipping coffee while scrolling through his phone. shirtless.

"oh!" you practically squeal, jumping around and covering your eyes with a hand. you knew that you'd be sharing the guest house with some of the wedding party, you just didn't think it would be with him.

he laughs, clicking off his phone and setting it on the island. "i'm not naked, you don't have to hide."

you peek through your fingers first and see him looking at you, palms flat against the counter as he leans into it, mug sat in the space between his hands. when you catch sight of the sweat pants—although hung dangerously low on his toned hips—you drop your hand. "you just caught me off guard." you swallow.

he grins, all syrupy and slow before pushing off the counter. leon stalks over to you, and the closer he gets the more nervous you feel. just when you think he may stop, he walks right past you, hand brushing your wrist. "lauren and connor need us ready for 1:30 for something. connor's brother and jenni are already outside." he calls back at you, stalking down the hallways.

you had to wash your face in freezing water to calm yourself down from that interaction—mostly caused by leon’s shirtless torso, but that's neither here or there. you slipped on one of your white cocktail dresses, because even though leon didn't say what was happening, you knew it was the welcome party in the garden.

leon wasn't in the kitchen or the living area when you emerged from your room, thankfully, so you had another few minutes to calm down while you made your way across the property. guests have already started to arrive by the time you sneak up beside lauren, greeting her warmly while she beams at the sight of your face.

you help her make her rounds and tidy up whatever she feels needs it while people mingle, snacking on hors d'oeuvres and sipping alcohol under the july sun. when you get a free moment, you nudge her side to get her attention, "why didn't you tell me leon was in my house?"

she frowns slightly, "he is? thought he was in the other one but I guess not." before you can get her to elaborate on that, one of the waitstaff comes over, whisking her away to deal with whatever snack debacle was occurring.

you spend a few hours mingling with everyone, sharing laughter and drinks happily. you've never been to muskoka, and you can't help but appreciate how beautiful and scenic it is. lauren and connor couldn't of picked a better spot to get married.

on instinct you hear lauren’s laugh echo through the garden, and you spot her almost instantly. your best friend has never looked more beautiful or happy since you've known her. connor stands beside her, the two of them in their own little world. he's whispering in her ear which is the reason for her laughter. you love them so much.

your eyes begin to prick with tears, and you quickly look away before they can fall. you grab a napkin hurriedly, bringing it up to your lower lash line so it soaks up your salty tears. thank god you're alone right now, because it's so embarrassing.

"oh no," leon's says from a few feet away, eyeing you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "you're crying."

his voice cutting through the silence makes you jump slightly—when did you get so jumpy around him?—and you turn to look at him, a small bubble of laughter leaving you. you sniffle, balling up the napkin in your palm, "I know. i'm a mess."

he shakes his head, a half smirk, half frown on his face. you don't even know where to begin trying to understand what that means. leon walks closer, taking the napkin right out of you palm and throwing it in the small garbage underneath the long buffet style hors d'oeuvres table. "what's got you emotional?"

on cue lauren laughs again, and you sigh dreamily, glancing the happy couples way. "they're just so in love. this place is beautiful, lauren and connor are beautiful and i'm just...so happy for them."

leon watches you for a long moment, brows furrowed slightly as he listens to your confession. when you look back at him, there's new tears in your eyes, happy ones but laced with a longing you hadn't realized you possessed. leon's gut pangs with something all too familiar as you look up at him. he can't help but wonder if for years you'd been too worried about trying to get him to like you in some capacity that you'd been too busy to look for what you need. what you want. what you've always desired: to feel loved.

the way you're looking at him now, no trace of anger or resentment in your eyes, makes him feel comfortable—complete. it's then that he knows that yes, you'd been too focused on leon's stubbornness when it comes to you, to notice that he never hated you. not at all.

he gives you a closed mouth grin, reaching to wipe away the tear that's pooling under your lashes. "you'll get it too, y/n. love."

your lip twitches, and his eyes on you feel so intense you have to look to the ground. "think so?"

he guides your face back up. "I know so." leon swallows gently, eyes darting down to your lips just like they had in the pool many days ago. your lips part, nothing but a hitched breath coming out. he licks along his lower lip, "i'm sorry, y/n. for everything."

and you know he means it.

dinner time comes quickly, sneaking up on you. leon weighs heavy on your mind as you shove garden salad in your mouth—the conversation today, his shirtless torso, the way he notices your nails, the way he touched you in the pool, the way he kissed you. even the way he eats damn beer nuts.

you try and distract yourself with the conversation flowing all around you, stretching down the long dining table under the warm fairy lights dripping from the trees. but your mind always drift back to him. leon. leon. leon. the man who hasn't left your mind since you met him years ago, is still the man who you think about today.

it doesn't help that he's sitting diagonally from you, your eyes catching every few minutes like there’s nothing else to but to look at one another.

you need a cold shower and a long nights rest. and leon, you brain taunts you.

after desert and another hour of mindless chatting, everyone starts heading home and packing in for the night. tomorrow would be a long day of rehearsals and last minute prepping for the wedding on the following day.

you practically run back to the guest house, stealing one of two showers before any of the other house guests have a chance too. the water is relaxing, and helps ease the tornado of thoughts and unwanted questions in your mind.

whatever you want it to be.

you're glad you have a room to yourself because you don't want to put pyjamas on. you crawl under the covers completely naked, sighing as your head hits the pillow.

leon. leon. leon.

hours pass, the guest house bathed in the sound of water lapping against the stoney shore. sleep doesn't take you, leaving you tossing and turning like a child. you huff, reading the small alarm clock on the wooden beside table: 2:17 a.m.

you slip out from under the sheets and grab one of your oversized shirts, pulling it over your frame before making your way to the door. you're hoping some water and a change of atmosphere will help you feel a little sleepy. you toe down the dark hallway until you round into the kitchen.

the image of shirtless leon, leaning over the island this morning flashes through your mind. you shake your head, sighing again before going to the cupboard and grabbing a mug.

you fill it with the brita in the fridge, and then you drink it slowly, doing your best to calm your restless limbs and even more restless mind. after a few minutes you put the mug in the sink and make your way back down the hallway.

one of the bedroom doors creaks open, and you falter. even in the dim light, you'd recognize him. leon looks at you, curious, one brow raised the highest fraction taller than the other. he's shirtless again, which makes you swallow.

"hi." you mumble dumbly.

"hey."

you walk further down the hall, right by your bedroom door which before this moment, unbeknownst to you, is diagonally across from his.

you watch leon's eyes dart down to your legs, trailing up your soft skin and reaching the hem on your not so long t-shirt. his eyes linger there, and you flush. "sorry, I," you stutter, "wasn't expecting to see you. or anyone really, at this hour."

he finds your face. "don't apologize."

you nod, clearing your throat again. you've never been at a loss for words in leon's presence, besides the moment right before your kiss over a week ago, but right now you're rendered speechless.

"you okay?" he questions tenderly, assessing you.

"yeah," you say, thumbing down the hall in the direction of the kitchen. "couldn't sleep, so just had some water."

he nods once, "ah."

"are you okay?" you ask him.

leon blinks, nodding again. "yeah. just had to use the bathroom."

"ah." you repeat his earlier words, and his mouth twitches.

"yeah." he mumbles.

you breathe, "well, I should probably try and sleep. it'll be a long day tomorrow."

"yeah, me too." he say, but it doesn't sound convincing. leon eyes your legs again.

you squeeze your thighs together, a small gasp leaving your lips. the sound has leon's eyes snapping up to your face. you reach behind yourself blindly, finding the handle of the door knob. "goodnight leon."

"night." he says, turning the knob of his own door and pushing it open.

whatever you want it to be. the words taunt you as you look at leon's back, muscles pronounced and tempting. your mind is still racing with the unknown—your body on fire—and this interaction didn't help at all.

you're desperate for answers.

so before his door closes, you step forward. "leon?"

he pauses, pulling the bedroom door back open. not fully, but just enough so he can lean on the trim. "yea?"

you shutter as you inhale, fingers itching as you try and keep your hands to yourself. leon's skin is glistening. pecks and chest covered in a neat spread of hair that trails down his abs and disappears below those stupid low rise sweatpants. focus. you force yourself to look back up to his face.

whatever you want it to be.

"what would you of said the other night in the car if I was sober?" you ask him, "when I asked you what are we, you said whatever I want us to be."

leon remembers the conversation all too well. it plays on a constant loop in his head and it has since he dropped you home that night. "yeah, I did." he confirms lowly.

"so what's the real answer?" you swallow gently, "what would you of said? if I asked you right now, what would you say?"

a moment passes.

leon huffs, eyes finding the worn wood of the house as he rubs the back of neck roughly. he meets your eyes again—your curious, hopeful gaze. "I don't know." he says.

"you don't know?" you repeat slowly—hesitantly. like your testing out the sound of it on your tongue. a flash of sadness washes over your face, and leon feels awful.

he steps back into the hallway, "I don't mean it like that, I just..." he trails off, breathing deeply.

you don't give him the opportunity to finish that thought. your arms cross over your chest, a defensive stance that makes leon frown. "how come when we first met you didn't smile at me?"

the question catches him off guard. not because he didn't know the answer, but because he hadn't realized it had been in your mind. leon didn't realize that you noticed that when first time you met, he didn't smile back at you. heat flushes his chest and neck, "y/n..."

the look on his face has you stopping. he looks almost distraught, and that's not at all what you were expecting. there was a part of you that thought leon didn't even remember that first meeting. the solem look on his face suggests otherwise.

"please," you breathe, arms falling as you step closer to him. "I need to know what I did that made you so upset that you couldn't even smile. it's been years of racking my brain, desperately trying to understand what I did-"

"I couldn't smile because I was scared." leon cuts you off firmly, gaze pointed.

"scared?" you repeat curiously. "scared of what?"

"y/n." he says your name again. almost pleading with you.

you reach out, letting your nails trail over the side of his bicep. you blink up at him, "leon, please."

a beat passes.

"you had the prettiest smile i'd ever seen," leon mumbles, so quiet that you almost don't hear him. "that's what scared me. because I knew I would do anything to see it again, and from that moment I knew I had no control when it came to you." he shakes his head, a breathy laugh breaking the tense moment. leon meets your gaze, “I still don't have control around you and it scares me to this day."

your core flutters, and your heart thumps wildly. you lick your lower lip. "yeah?" you question softly.

"yeah."

leon watches as you take another step towards him, your chest pressing against his. you push up onto your painted toes, hands curling around his torso to balance yourself. he's practically panting as he watches you, nose bumping yours as he starts leaning down into your space.

"loose control, leon." you whisper sensually, nails digging into his flesh. "I want you to loose control with me."

leon kisses you hard, hands flying to your waist to keep you pressed against him. your mouths part, tongues swiping over one another as the kiss turns deeper—hotter. it's even better than the one almost two weeks ago. more intimate and more passionate.

you sigh into his mouth, hands sliding up the front of his chest and wrapping around his neck, pulling him into you even more. his fingers squeeze the fleshy part of your hips before travelling farther down, cupping the round of your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. then he drags you even further up his chest, and you can feel him hardening against your core.

"you have no idea how long i've been waiting for you," he mumbles into your mouth, grip sliding down your thighs painfully slow.

you whine as leon kisses you again, lifting you off the ground and wrapping your legs over his hips. the new position has your bare core resting just above his member, and just knowing that has your hips jerking.

leon's hands trail under your shirt, which is now almost completely exposing you, smoothing over your ass. he makes a growling noise, and in that moment you know he's discovered you're without panties. "you're gunna kill me." he mumbles, nipping your bottom lip and then soothing the sting with his tongue.

your hands run up through the back of his head, messing his hair. "leon," you pant, nipples pebbled and hard where they rest against him. "I need to feel you."

he doesn't answer you—not with words. his hands squeeze the meat of your ass again and spin you both around, slowly to not startle you, and walk you into his room. it's completely dark in there besides the single stream of moonlight through the window, leaving a barley there streak of light across the pillows.

leon blindly finds the bed, and once he feels the mess of blankets against his knees he lowers you to the mattress. he hovers over you, eyes flickering over your flushed face so intently—so tenderly. you sigh, a small smile blossoming on your kissed out lips.

it makes him follow suit, the two of just smiling at one another for what feels like the first time. slowly, one of leon's hands finds the side of your face, cupping your jaw while his thumb runs along the hallow part of your cheek soothingly. "you okay?"

your heart clenches, and you lean into the warmth of his palm. your eyes flutter as you nod, "yes. are you?"

"better than okay," he whispers, leaning in and reconnecting your lips. this kiss isn't hurried like the others. this one feels like molasses, slow and sweet and you can't get enough.

leon’s hand trails down your face, over the pulse point of your neck and down your t-shirt covered torso. he pays extra attention to your boobs, tugging and palming your nipples until you're arching into him.

when he reaches your hip bones—the edge of your shirt—he curses, pressing an open mouthed kiss to each side of your hips, and then another one right below your navel. your breath catches, watching as leon’s eyes flicker up yours—so close to where you want him.

leon smirks, kissing the inside of your thigh delicately. "what do you want from me, baby?"

the nickname makes your hips jerk, a breathless moan leaving you involuntary. leon's smirk deepens, hands sliding up your thighs and pushing them further apart, displaying your glistening bare pussy.

"I want you to touch me," you mumble desperately, hands fisting the bedding under you like your life depends on it.

"speak up baby." leon taunts, blowing air on your warmth.

you jaw goes slack as you squirm and wiggle against the mattress. "I want you," you swallow roughly, "to touch me."

he licks his bottom lip like he's in front of a five course meal, "good girl." leon mumbles before licking a firm strip up your pussy, tasting and spreading your sticky arousal. you gasp loudly, too loudly for sharing a house with other people, when he sucks on your clit.

leon hums at the sound, and it vibrates through your folds in a way that makes you shiver. his hands massage the meat of your thighs as he devours your pussy, keeping you spread open for him.

your panting, back arching off the bed as your core flutters pathetically. "i'm close." you whine, fingers threading through leon's hair and tugging his roots.

leon slurps your arousal, sucking your clit deliciously. just when you're about to teeter off the edge, he pulls away from you. his chin and lips are drenched in your juices, and when he smirks you just about melt.

"I wanna see your face when you cum," he admits shamelessly, already beginning to remove his sweatpants. his hard cock springs free, thick and red as it brushes against his stomach. as if leon couldn't get any more sexy, he's got the perfect cock as the cherry on top.

you bring your bottom lip between you teeth, watching him shamelessly. he catches your gaze, "take your shirt off."

and you do, quickly, like you can't take it off fast enough. you throw it to the floor and leon climbs back over your body, pressing tickling kisses against your neck that have you giggling and squirming.

"you're beautiful." leon hums, pressing a deep kiss to your mouth. you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and that makes you moan. he pulls away, forehead resting against yours, "I don't have a condom."

you shake your head, "i'm clean. I haven't been with anybody since—" since I met you.

you don't need to say it. leon knows. "me either." he kisses you again, chaste. "and i’m clean, if you’re sure?"

"yes," you tell him, "i've never been more sure of anything."

he smiles, lining his aching tip up with your sticky entrance. slowly, leon eases into your warmth. you both sigh shakily, mouth agape as leon's cock slides further and further into your pussy.

"holy fuck," he moans, "you feel so good."

you whine, wrapping your legs around his lower back, keeping him as close as possible. the feeling is electric and like nothing you've experienced before. it's years of tension, frustration, unspoken words and secret longing combined, and it feels like heaven.

leon begins rolling his hips into you, a slow pace that has your toes clenching and pussy oozing. your back arches off the bed, hands sliding up his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades as he rocks into your heat.

he curses lowly, the band in his stomach tightening as his impending orgasm nears. "your pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around my cock."

"oh my god, leon—mhpm." you mewl, walls fluttering and squeezing as he continues his now feverish pace. the bed begins to creak from the movement, a sound that surely gives away exactly what you and leon are up to. but neither of you care.

"fuck," he grunts, grabbing your leg and hiking it further up, almost holding it flush to your chest. the new angle is exactly what you needed, leon's tip kissing that spongy spot inside you repeatedly.

"i'm gunna cum." you whine, hands sliding around to his front, cascading up his chest to wrap around his neck. "don't stop." you beg desperately, jaw going slack at a particularly rough thrust.

"you like that?" leon asks, eyeing your pinched eyes and flushed face. he pushes on the back of your thigh, stretching you open even more and more. you shout, mumbling yes over and over again. "yeah?" he teases.

he thrusts into you three more times and you cum. you exhale breathily, falling back against the bed as your limbs go weak. your skin feels like it's on fire in the best possible way. leon's jaw goes slack, hips jutting into yours as he reaches his climax.

the feeling of him filling you up with his cum, pumping into into you softly with lazy thrusts has you cumming again, much softer than your first orgasm, but still powerful enough to have you whining.

your eyes flutter closed, exhaustion creeping into your bones. leon breathlessly kisses the line of your jaw, and then your cheek, then your nose and finally your lips. you smile into it, holding his face to yours tenderly.

"you okay?" he whispers, pushing some hair off your sweaty forehead.

you hum, kissing him one more time quickly. "yeah." you say, "i'm definitely tired now."

he grins fondly, dick twitching where it's still sheathed inside you. slowly, leon guides himself from your warmth, watching as his cum spills out your hole and drips onto the bedding. it’s truly a sight.

he curses, already half hard again. you giggle, and leon swears he's never heard a more precious sound. he cleans up your shared mess gently, pressing kissing against your skin every few seconds. it's so comforting and soft it has you falling asleep.

when leon finally climbs back up the bed, he pulls you against his chest, tucking your head under his chin. he pulls the blanket over your naked bodies, and kisses your forehead, so softly that you barley feel it. "go to sleep, y/n."

and you do.

—

you take a deep breath, letting the muskoka air fill your lungs completely before you let yourself exhale. the night sky is full of stars and constellations, adding to the already perfect night.

you can hear the chatter of the last half of rehearsal dinner from up the house, lauren's laughter finding your ears like it usual does. you're both cacklers, and connor often dubs you two as the cackle twins.

the dinner has been beautiful, as expected. speeches made you tear up and laugh at the same time, and the food was so delicious is made you moan.

you woke up this morning before leon, the sunshine streaming through the open curtains and caring him in golden light. seeing him so soft and tender was everything, but the unknown of everything between you still lingers in your chest.

yes, you had sex. yes, you kissed again. but what does that mean?

you left before he woke up.

the day had been so busy with you helping lauren and getting ready for rehearsals, that you didn't see leon again until the dinner. seeing him made your heart race, and skin heat. leon looked so handsome in his suit, hair styled and casual smile on his face—chatting with connor from across the table.

you thought you could handle your feelings and emotions through the duration of dinner, but that changed as connor made his toast—a stupidly perfect toast about love that made you think of leon.

you caught his eyes through it, and he sent you a sad smile. it breaks you. you're scared of the unknown, and you want him so badly. but not knowing what leon wants is torture, and frankly it’s holding you back.

so once all the toasts are done and dinner conversation is in full swing, you slip out of the house and make your way down to the waters edge. hoping to collect yourself. the sound of the water and the crickets are soothing as you look out on to the lake. you wrap your arms around yourself, taking another deep and much needed breath.

the sound of someone walking on the rocks behind you makes you spin around, white silk dress swaying around your thighs at your sudden movement.

"hey," leon says gently, hands shoved in his pant pockets. he's no longer wearing his jacket, he must've ditched it before coming out to find you.

"hey." you parrot.

he comes up next you, arm brushing yours. "you okay?"

you hum lightly, nodding once. "just taking a breather." your emotions betray your body as your lip quivers, a wave of fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

leon spots them instantly, rounding to your front to look at you properly. "hey," he starts tenderly, brushing some loose hairs away from your face, "why are you upset?"

"i'm just...emotional." you mutter pathetically, shrugging your shoulder.

leon frowns. "about the speeches?"

"yes," you say, "no. I don't know."

he clicks his tongue, tucking your hair. his touch makes you shiver. "what about it is making you upset?" leon asks, words patient and curious.

you shake your head, wiping at your tears with the back of your hand. "it's stupid," you laugh half-heartedly, "and I really should get back inside and be present! this is about lauren and connor, not me-"

"hey," leon stops you, "no. lauren and connor are fine. it's just me and you right now, okay? what's going on that head."

that's a good question. what is going on inside your head. for years you believed that leon hated you. you were certain of it. you two would always bicker and fight, couldn't be in the same room without it getting hostile. but the past few weeks something has undeniably changed.

you sigh, voice wobbly as you begin to speak. "for years, you only looked my way if you wanted to argue."

leon frowns, reaching out to cup your jaw. "that's not true." he says with determination, brows pulled so tightly that you'd be surprised if the indent between them isn't permanent.

"it is," you huff, "and sometimes I think that's still the case." a new wave of tears and doubt well in your eyes, heart thumping against your ribs wildly. "you hate me, leon."

a moment passes, leon looking down at you with an unreadable, almost sad expression. your words couldn't be farther from the truth. leon didn’t lie when he said he never hated you. it always been the opposite for him. "okay, sure," leon starts, "I hate you."

you gulp, eyes never leaving his.

leon continues, "I hate that I know your favourite necklace was gift from your grandma when you turned 18. I hate that I know you fiddle with your rings when you're nervous, and that you'll do anything for lauren and your friends, even if that means putting up with my terrible fucking attitude. I hate that I know your favourite lipgloss is bubblegum flavoured, and that your dream pet is a snake but there's also something about them that scares you. I hate that I made you hate me, because I sure as hell have never hated you."

you sniffle, shifting on your feet as his words warm your skin. you've never told leon about yourself, but yet he knew you well enough to know them. he knows you. you knows where you live, and your nail colour. he knows you cross your arms when you get defensive and that you love beer nuts.

"then why?" you ask gingerly "why did you act like you did?"

leon doesn't say anything. his jaw ticks, teeth clenched so hard that it hurts. leon's other hand comes up to your face, caressing your tear stained skin in his calloused palms. his lips part, tongue sliding along his bottom lip. "because I love you."

you blink. "what?"

"I love you like crazy," leon repeats, a breathy laugh following. "I loved you since you walked into that bar with lauren, all smiles and wearing that pretty yellow dress. sure, you scared me but you also intrigued me. when you started fighting with me, which was warranted, there was a part of me that hated it, but another part of me loved it because it was the only time you'd give me the time of day."

his thumbs smooth over your rosy cheeks as he continues, "so i'd argue with you and fight with you because I knew that would make you look at me and talk to me. and i'm so sorry. i'm sorry that I hurt you and embarrassed you and gave you all these mixed signals the past two weeks. i'm sorry that I was falling in love you more and more each day and didn't say anything until now."

"you love me?"

leon must think you're feeling skeptical about his confession, because his thumbs still on your cheeks and his face falters. "i'm not fucking with you."

"you love me." you state.

"yes," he breathes, "i've never not loved you."

"leon."

"I know. i'm sorry."

"leon...stop."

"you can hit me or smack me or drown me in this lake if that helps. i've been awful to you and then sending you mixed signals when it's the last thing I wanted to do. I got greedy with the sex and kissing but-"

"kiss me." you interrupt firmly, sliding your hands up his stomach and resting your palms flat against his pecks

"what?" leon breathes, blinking hard as your words register in his head.

"you heard me, leon," you smile, "kiss me. now."

and he does. leon kisses you with nothing besides tenderness and pure love, lips caressing and sliding along yours in a way that makes your knees feel weak. your hands slide around to his back, squeezing his muscles firmly as he continues the kiss. his tongue slides along yours, sending butterflies down your body. you pull away, both of you breathless and so in love.

"I love you too, leon." you smile, pressing another chaste kiss to his plump lips. "and I forgive you, if you can forgive me too."

he shakes his head, "there's nothing for me to forgive."

leon kisses you again, picking up right where you left off. his hands slide down your body, down to your lower back as his thumb glide over your tail bone in a soothing, gentle motion. the kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough, and you whine when he pulls away.

he grins, squeezing the flesh of your ass. "we should probably go back inside. lauren might bite my head off if I steal her best friend away any longer."

"are you sure we can't just go have a quickie first?" you ask playfully, fiddling with the hairs at the base of his neck.

he shakes his head in disbelief, a fond smile pulling at his face. "you're a freak."

"at least i'm not a freak who hates beer nuts," you tease, poking his stomach, "but forces himself to eat them."

leon wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as the two of you make your way back up to the house. "ah, but you see, I did it for the greater good."

you snort. "and what greater good was that?"

"getting the girl."

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #leon draisaitl imagine #leon draisaitl fic #leon draisaitl x reader #leon draisaitl smut #nhl smut #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #nhl x reader

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elllisaaa · 1 year ago

Text

LOST THE GAME - JAKE. S

SUMMARY : what was supposed to be the least interesting class of your semester turned out to be the most passionating one when you met jake sim and his tendency to tease. but two could play a game, right ?

-> pairing : college mate!jake x fem!reader

-> words count : 15k

-> genre : college au, smut

-> warnings : switch!jake x switch!reader, teasing, dirty talk, sexting, phone sex, mutual masturbation, praising, dry humping, marking, hair pulling, doggy, unprotected sex, creampie, body worship, use of 'good girl', 'good boy' and 'slut', oral (f. and m. receiving), deep throating, cum play, manhandling, quick mention of choking, fingering, begging, riding, panties sniffing, jake is down bad for yn (yes, that's a warning), nipple play, jake is asking consent a lot and it's sexy.

+ the way i'm depicting jake does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

-> author's note : here we are, my not so little gift for you for valentine's day ! i hadn't planned something at first, but it turned out that i finished this not too long before so i decided to post it on this day. it's the first really long fic that i'm posting here, but i enjoy writing them so much ! shoot out to @xhdream that started it all by sending me a gif of jake during our christmas family gathering and messed with my mind 😭😔. this ended up being really self-indulgent but i hope you'll like it as much as i do !

-> masterlist | enha masterlist

PLAYLIST

🎵 lost the game by two feet

🎶 meddle about by chase atlantic

🎵 i'll make you love me by kat leon

🎶 more by i.m

🎵 it's not easy for you by misamo

🎶 more than friends by isabel la rosa

Leaving all your friends and family for college was not easy. Your freshman year was really hard, having to manage your classes and doing a part time job to be able to afford your rant, and being in a brand new city you didn’t know anything about, nor had any friends to help and support you. You felt on the edge of giving up just before your finals, but that was when you met your best friend, Yeji. She really was a gift, always smiley and willing to cheer you up. Without her, you really didn’t know if you could have continued university, or got your life back together at all.

But now, here you were, currently in your third year at college, happy and confident about your future. And you really didn’t want to mess it up, so you remained serious, and worked hard to have the grades you got. Even if for some people, psychology was not a “real” major, it was for you, and it was what you wanted to do for your whole life. And you sometimes wondered how they could say that when you had to take science classes. At first, you were not so excited to follow them, thinking that it would be just another thing you would have to study just for the exams and never remember again, but someone made you change your mind.

Jake was not in the same major as you, that was why you didn’t see him before the start of this semester but he immediately caught your eyes. Well, it would have been hard not to notice him, or you would’ve been blind, because he was really good looking. He was the cliché of the hot college fuckboy, the one so many rumors were spread about, the one who had supposedly hooked up with half of the campus.

Despite that, you were not one to have prejudices against people you didn’t know, so you gave him a chance, mainly because he was attractive and exactly your type, and also because he seemed to be the only other student to be invested in this class. Surprisingly, he was always participating, sometimes before you even had the chance to do so, and he was doing his work everytime. And so on, he became even more your type because smart people were automatically the most fuckable in your eyes.

However, you tried to not let your interest in him show. It seemed like he already had an ego, you were not here to fuel it even more. So you stuck to staring at him during your shared classes, under the excuse that you were only closely listening to his answers to your professor's questions. That was until he suddenly decided to sit down by your side on one random Thursday.

“- Is that seat taken, or can I ?”

You lifted your head, even if you had grown familiar to the sound of his voice by now, seeing Jake, waiting for your approval with a grin on his face. Well, he was asking kindly and really, you could not refuse to have your crush sit with you. You simply nobbed, taking off your bag from the chair so he could sit down.

“- Thanks !

- No problem.”

Regardless of the confidence you were trying to keep on, you were feeling incredibly nervous. It was the first time you and Jake were this close. Sure, you had talked to each other before, picking up on something one of you had said in class to add other information or to correct each other. But that was it, nothing more. So to suddenly have him so close to you was very strange, but at the same time, you were giddy, like a high-schooler confessing her love to her first crush.

“- Did you understand the paper we had to read for today ?”

Jake's voice straddled you as you were lost in your thoughts, but you quickly composed yourself again, doing your best to hold his intense gaze.

“- Yeah. Or at least, I think so, but I struggled a little bit at first. Why did you want to know ?

- Well, you’re the only one except me that seems to give a damn about this class, and you’re smart, so I thought that maybe you could help me, because I didn’t understand anything !”

You chuckled at the defeated tone he used for his last words, perfectly getting his disappointment of not assimilating a new thing immediately, it was frustrating. But at the same time, butterflies erupted in your stomach at the thought of Jake having noticed you. And he was saying you were smart on top of that ? What started as a not so good day was turning into a much better one.

“- Of course, no problem. We have some time left before Mr. Lee arrives, so maybe we could go over the paper and you stop me every time there’s something you didn’t get ?

- Works for me ! Thank you Y/N.”

The way he said your name had you fighting demons not to blush and try to concentrate on bacteria and immune system instead of his bright smile and beautiful face. But it was not easy to stay focused when he brought his chair closer to yours so he could have a better view of the drawings you were making to materialize what was explained in the paper. You could feel Jake’s warmth through your clothes and it was so hard to resist the urge to turn your head and just look at him. Thanks to some magical forces surely, you got to the end of it when your professor entered the classroom, greeting his students.

“- It’s so much easier when you explain everything to me, you’re very good at that, you know ?”

And he was at it again with the compliments, and you were trying to repress a stupid smile from eating up your face once again, whispering when you answered him in order not disturb Mr. Lee, who had already started today’s lesson.

“- I’m glad I could help.”

Jake's response came in the way of a smile before the two of you started to take notes of what your professor was saying, not having much time to discuss throughout the class. These lectures were always very intense but also very interesting, so you didn’t mind the fast rhythm with which you were approaching each subject. You thought about asking Jake his number at the end of the class, just in case he had another problem with something related to this class of course ! A few years back, you wouldn’t even have dared to consider something like that, but right now you were thinking “why not ?” If anything, he would say no and end of the story. So as you were packing up your things, you started to get your phone out when you were interrupted by Jake once again.

“- I have a class now, but if I could have your number it would be very helpful, because there’s still some things I can’t get a grasp of, if you don’t mind of course !”

You smiled back, taking his phone and typing your number in the new contact he had created before handing the device back to him.

“- Actually, I was going to give it to you anyway. You’re pretty smart too, and you’re funny so it’s not a waste of time.”

Jake chuckled as he put his phone in his back pocket after checking the time. He was going to be late to his next class, but who cared when he finally got to talk to the girl he had a crush on since the beginning of the year ? Certainly not him.

“- I’ll make it worth it, promise ! Huh, I really have to go but I’ll text you later pretty.”

With a wink, he was gone and left you behind with a beating heart and a stupidly big grin stretching out your lips.

From this day on, Jake sat next to you every time you shared your science classes. And even if the seat was empty last week because Yeji was sick that day, she happily let the guy take her place with a knowing look on her face, wiggling her eyebrows every time he walked in and greeted you. You acted annoyed every time, but really, it was funny how supportive she was - sometimes, you worried that she was more excited about the whole situation than yourself.

“- Is it Jakey again ?”

You rolled your eyes as you picked up your phone from the kitchen counter where Yeji and you had spread all your work sheets and textbooks to study. It was Sunday, and you often reserved it to work together and then relax with a movie, while doing each other's skincare and gossiping.

When you first came to the city for college, you had rented a small apartment with another girl you didn’t know. At the end of your freshman year, she left and since Yeji was searching for a new place to stay because her last roommate was insufferable, you had proposed to her that you live together. She really was the best friend you could ask for, and also the best roommate. But sometimes, just sometimes, you wished she didn’t know you so well as she fake gaged when you laughed at the last text Jake had, indeed, sent to you. You wrote a quick answer before going back to your cognitive psychology assignment.

“- And what if it is him ? You’re jealous ?

- Of a man ? Never !”

Both of you laughed at her remark, not able to hold back yourselves after being focused for such a long time and having spent the whole afternoon studying.

“- No but seriously, what do you think of him ?”

You were not one to let other people direct the way you acted or lead you on to choices you wouldn’t have made by yourself but you valued Yeji’s opinion, and she always had something to say about your crushes. Sensing that the subject was no longer meaningless, your best friend put her pen down, thinking for some time about your question.

“- Well, you know all the rumors about him right ?”

You nodded. Of course you knew, especially since you started to talk with Jake two months ago, you paid a lot more attention to the conversations of other students about him. They were all saying that he was a typical frat boy, going to parties, not caring about going to school, and fooling around with every girl he found attractive. But you already knew that a part of that was not true. He was often sending you some parts of texts or lessons he didn’t understand for you to explain, he was really invested in what he was doing, and he had even told you that he was not here to skip classes.

“- And you also know that Lia is friends with his roommate Jay ?”

Again, you nobbed. You knew Lia too, because she was one of Yeji’s childhood friends. You were a little less close to her but she really was a very sweet girl, and you loved to spend time with her.

“- She told me that Jake was not how everyone is depicting him. Apparently, it’s only because he’s spending time with Heeseung and his frat, and because he hooked up with a random girl at a party during our freshman year. And from there, people created him a reputation, and he never really tried to deny it because, well, everyone would assume that based on his looks and who he’s hanging out with.

- I guess, yeah. I thought that too when I first met him. And that doesn’t surprise me, he cares too much about his studies to be a frat boy.”

Yeji laughed again, detaching her long, ginger, hair from the hair clip that was holding them in place.

“- I agree, he’s too smart too, and too sweet with you. He genuinely seems like a good guy, and not every guy out there gets your humor so…”

You threw a random highlighter in her direction, pretending to be vexed by her comment.

“- And I didn’t see you smile so much since that dick left you this summer, so I sadly have to validate him.”

Yeji let out a defeated sigh while shaking her head, making you smile again. It was true that you had a hard time because of your “ex”, if you could really label him like that. He was just a guy you met at a party just after your finals were over, and from there, you started to be in some kind of situationship, that was becoming serious for you, but not for him apparently since he left you over a single text and not even an apology. But you were fully over it now, and ready to welcome someone in your life - and bed - again.

“- I’m glad you’re thinking the same.”

She simply gave you a smile before stretching her arms over her head, repressing a yawn as she did so.

“- I’m thinking about wrapping up this study session and getting on to the movie.

- Oh my god, yes, thank you ! My brain stopped working one hour ago !”

You both started to tidy up the counter, putting your sheets back in your binder and your pens back in your case.

“- You order while I’m hopping in the shower ?

- No problem ! Pizza and sushi ?

- You know me so well !”

You giggled as Yeji disappeared in her room, closing the door behind her and letting you finish with your mess. When your phone received another notification, you picked it up again, not holding back your smile when you saw Jake’s contact name popping up this time.

jakey : wow ! working on a sunday ? you have a stronger will than me ! you : ahah only because i’m not doing it alone ! otherwise, i would lie in my bed all day, not doing anything lmao what are you doing ? jakey : [attachement : 1 image] just relaxing while watching a movie it’s pretty boring tho…

You were not expecting this photo to be a shirtless one of Jake, sprawled out on his bed, and looking at the camera with a pout on his face. You had to pick up your jaw from the floor and mentally stop yourself from drooling over his abs, and his chest, and his arms, and the gray sweatpants hanging low on his waist. Was that flirting ? It was, for sure. Why would he send you that if it wasn’t ? But how could you respond to that ? Sending a picture of the same type seemed a little too provocative, and you didn’t want to interpret the signs wrong. If he was doing this after only two months, what would he be willing to do in a few weeks ? You were curious to see how far he would go to seduce you.

jake : why are you not answering pretty ? too busy checking me out ? 😉 you : in your dreams. jake : oh yeah, don’t worry about that, my dreams are already filled with your cute face.

You didn’t dare ask him what he meant by that, busying your mind by ordering your dinner and trying to get the image of Jake’s chest out of your mind.

The whole task of not getting your hopes up revealed to be a lot more difficult than you thought it would be when the universe seemed to team up against you. Or at least, you saw it like that as your professor was listing the groups for the new project of the semester.

“- Y/N and Jake, I want you two together for this. Usually, I’d put you in a weaker group to help but I’m very curious to see what you can do when working hand in hand. And that’s all for today everyone, I’ll see you next week and don’t forget to tell me the angle your presentation will address.”

You couldn’t believe that Mr. Lee really did this. It was not that you were horrified by the idea of having to work with Jake, it was the contrary, really, but it also meant spending a lot of time together, because you wanted your presentation to be perfect. You would have to go to the library together, or go work at his dorm, or invite him to your apartment, and all that will certainly not help you to stop your little - or rather big - crush on him, and neither will it help you to stay focused.

“- You don’t seem so delighted by the news, pretty.”

His voice interrupted your thoughts, and you lifted your head to meet his pouty face, the one he always had on when he was trying to get your attention. It was cute. And his puppy eyes were too. And there, you were feeling all fuzzy inside once again.

“- Who would be delighted to know that we have a presentation that counts for half of the final note to do before the end of the month ?

- When you put it this way… But I was not really talking about that.”

You sighed as you stood up, checking the time because you had to join Lia and Yeji at your favourite café soon.

“- I know Jake. I have to go but I’ll text you later to let you know when I am free so we can start to work on that. Bye.”

Jake stood there, mouth slightly open as if he wanted to add something but couldn’t with how fast you left. All this made him wonder if he read the signs wrong or not. He didn’t imagine the way you were often staring at him. He didn’t miss the few times your eyes flicked down to his lips when he was talking to you. He didn’t imagine the way you were shivering every time he touched you, intentionally or not. He didn’t miss how you were always smiling when he was teasing you, even if you tried to look annoyed.

Or was it only pretending ? Jake didn’t know anymore. But you were not the type of girl to do that, right ? He watched you from afar since he saw you for the first time in this science class, noticing how kind you were with everyone, how funny you were, how pretty you looked, and he also noted how many boys tried to hit on you, and how many of them you sent away.

That was why he approached you as a friend. Because at least, even if he didn’t succeed in charming you, you could be friends. And it worked until now, you were getting closer and he even saw you blush one or two times when he made a flirty joke. So he didn’t understand why you were like that today. Maybe it was only a bad day for you, you seemed off and didn’t participate as much as usual. It should be that, yeah. That, or Jake was a total fool.

“- You know the rules Y/N ! You’re late, you pay !”

You sighed but got your wallet out. You were rarely late anyway, so it was not often that you had to pay for the three of you. Your two friends had already ordered your favourite drink and you made your way to the counter to pay before returning to your table and finally relaxing for the first time since you woke up.

“- You seem exhausted today.”

You nodded at Lia’s word, taking a sip of your caramel latte before answering her indirect question.

“- I am. I’ve been running all day ! I was late to my first class because my bus times changed and I didn’t know, so I had to wait for the next one and you know Mr Kim, he hates it when we are late and he literally humiliated me in front of the whole class. Then, I realized that I had forgotten the assignment that I had to hand back for one of my lectures, so I had to rush home to get it on my lunch time and couldn’t eat. And the cherry on top is that Mr Lee paired me up with Jake Sim for our next presentation.

- Wow ! That’s a lot, my dear !”

You nodded again, leaning against Yeji’s shoulder to seek some affection and comfort.

“- Well, all that sucks, but I don’t see how having to spend more time with your crush can be a bad thing ?

- It’s not ! That’s the worst part, I think that he thinks that I don’t want to work with him because I was so dry when I talked to him today, and he looked like a kicked puppy and now I feel guilty.”

Lia reached over to stroke your arm and try to make you feel a little bit better. She knew that you could spiral about the smallest thing you were saying or doing sometimes, overthinking every interaction you had with other people.

“- Just apologize next time, and that should be good. This is nothing that you can’t fix.

- Why are you always right ?”

The blonde shrugged before taking a sip of her own drink, while Yeji led the conversation to how her own day went. But you couldn’t stop thinking about how Jake’s smile fell when he sensed that you were not as enthusiastic as him to work together. You took your phone out, opting to send him a text now, even if you knew that he would not answer right away because he still had some other classes.

you : i am free this weekend and wednesday afternoon to work on the project. and sorry if i was too harsh earlier, i just had a really bad day, it was nothing against you.

You shut off your phone, not expecting a notification to light up the screen just seconds after your last message, trying to hold back a smile from stretching your lips.

jakey : this weekend seems good, but i’m going back to my parents so we’ll have to facetime 😉 don’t worry about that pretty, i figured it was not me you were mad at i’m here if you need to talk. you : i’m good now, but thank you, you’re sweet i’m staying here so call me when you have a moment. and stop texting while you’re in class, idiot !

As he answered you again just to tease you, the weight on your chest flew away. Jake really was a sweet guy, you just couldn’t believe that he was interested in you. He was popular around the campus, whether because of all the rumors about him - mostly false, but they were spreading fast - or because he was incredibly handsome, and a lot of girls were after him, numerous of whom were prettier than you. That was why you had so much trouble understanding why he chose to text you so much. It was not like you to doubt yourself like that, but for some reason, Jake was making you really nervous. Maybe because it was the first time in a while you were really interested in somebody, past just physical attraction, and you didn’t want to fuck it up.

You read Jake's last text again, the one in which he was telling you that he was going to call you in five minutes, just the time for him to gather all the things he needed to work, and you couldn’t stop biting your nails. There was no logical reason for you to be so stressed out about facetiming with him, especially since it was only to talk about a school project, but you were. You checked your appearance in the little mirror above your desk one more time, but didn’t really get the time to fix your hair, your phone ringing straddling you as you picked up the call immediately, setting up the device against your laptop so it would stay in place without you needing to hold it.

“- Hi pretty !

- Hi Jake, how you doing ?”

You tried to ease your mind by making small talk with him, but you were distracted every now and then by how veiny his hands were, or by how comfortable his thigh looked to sit on, pressing your own together to stop the warmth spreading in your lower half. It was really not the moment to think about that, even if it was not the first time nor would it be the last.

“- Did you have an idea of how we could talk about this in an original way ? Because I’m warning you, I don’t want this to be only a boring, classical presentation.”

Jake's deep voice as he chuckled sent your mind to other places you shouldn’t go while working on a science group project.

“- I should have known you’ll be like this. I’ll send you the research I’ve done so far and you tell me if you see something interesting.”

This was enough to get you to concentrate back on what you had to do, and as soon as you chose your angle, you started to work properly, sometimes making comments that made the other laugh. However, Jake was not able to focus on the article in front of him, too immersed in the contemplation of your figure to get anything done.

Why did you have to wear this fucking top ? The straps wouldn’t stop falling off from your shoulders, showing a little more skin of your cleavage everytime it did, before you’ll put them in place again. And he could see that you were not wearing a bra, your nipples poking through the material of your top, allowing him to think about how much he wanted to see you naked, how much he wished he could touch them, lick them, suck on them. Your hair were put up in a messy ponytail, and with your glasses on and the serious look on your face, he couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to fuck you from behind for some obscure reasons.

And well, it seemed like he got a little too entranced by his own thoughts because Jake could feel his cock twitch in his pants. Swearing under his breath, he turned around in his desk chair to grab a pillow from his bed and put it on his lap. He didn’t want you to notice that he was hard, the risk being that you would take him for a pervert, which he maybe was but he didn’t want you to think that of him. He was trying to be the perfect, sweet guy. He wanted to take you on proper dates, and offer you flowers before initiating anything sexual between the two of you, even if it was you he saw every time he was jerking off, even if he sometimes had to go to the bathroom after your shared classes because the vision of your thighs in a skirt was enough to make him pop a boner.

Sadly, the shuffling sounds he made while reaching for his pillow intrigued you enough for you to lift your head and look what Jake was doing, seeing him quickly put the cushion on his lap before going back to taking notes about the article. You weren’t thinking about something naughty for once, only up to tease him a little bit.

“- What’s with the pillow ? Are you hard or something ?”

Your smirk widened when you saw his ears grow red. It was the first time you were witnessing a blushing Jake, and well, the view was interesting and too funny to let it slide.

“- Don’t tell me you really are ?”

Jake didn’t dare to look at you anymore, his gaze lost in contemplating one of the posters on his walls, so much more interesting right ? How could he explain himself to you without saying anything disrespectful, because the thoughts he was having just before weren’t really ones a well-mannered and polite guy should have. All he wanted right now was to be swallowed by the floor and bury himself six feet under.

“- What were you thinking about ? Me ?”

At the way Jake lowered his head even more, you figured that it was, in fact, you that got him hard. And what was supposed to be a silly little joke turned into a whole lot more. The way your laugh died in your throat when you realized made Jake feel even more nervous that he had really made you uncomfortable and that you wouldn’t want to see his face ever again.

“- I-I am really sorry… Please, don’t think that I'm a creep Y/N ! It’s just… Fuck ! You’re just so hot with your glasses, and your top won’t stop showing your skin, and that’s so embarrassing but it turns me on how smart you are and you explain to me all these things like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever come across.”

You couldn’t believe what you just heard, and it was apparently showing as Jake spared you a glance and turned away immediately, groaning about how stupid he was, and that you could insult him as much as you wanted if it made you feel better.

“- Jake, just stop and look at me.”

It took some seconds for him to do so. It was a good thing you didn’t decide to end the call and your friendship with him already, he was not going to talk again and push his luck. When his eyes finally landed on you, he gulped loudly, trying to stop himself from getting turned on even more by the intense look you gave him.

“- Show me.

- W-What !?

- Show me what I do to you. And maybe I’ll show you what you’re doing to me.”

It was Jake's turn to not believe his ears. He must have looked so dumb, with his mouth hanging open and blinking repeatedly without saying anything because you chuckled cutely at him, pushing your chair back a little. And this time, when you let the straps of your top fall down, it was done on purpose, encouraging Jake to throw away that damn pillow and allow you to take in the appealing view of his boner. He was wearing these grey sweatpants again, and you couldn’t help licking your lips when you imagined how big his dick would be.

“- I wanna see more, this is not enough for me to forgive you.”

Even if his heart was about to burst out of his chest, a little smirk started to spread on his face. He wasn’t in a position to negotiate, but he liked the game you were leading him into. And your wish was his command. Without a word, Jake got rid of his shirt, throwing the piece of clothing away before looking back at you, happy to find you biting your lips while checking him out.

“- Like what you see ?

- Don’t be so cocky, you still have to make it up to me.

- And what do you want, pretty ?”

You pretended to think about it, using it as an excuse to drool over his abs a little longer. Because yeah, Jake was insanely hot, and even if you didn’t want him to see how affected you were, your drenched panties should be enough of a clue.

“- I want to see you jerk off for me. And I want you to tell me all the things you’ve been thinking about doing to me.”

Jake immediately stood up from his desk chair, throwing his sweatpants and boxer away while a quiet “fuck” fell from his lips, bringing a smirk to your face. This was getting way more interesting than science. When he sat down again, you only needed to tilt your head to the side for him to start stroking his cock slowly, releasing a sigh that had you pressing your thighs together to try and relieve some of the pressure you felt building up. Your eyes couldn’t leave his hard dick, wondering about how good he would fill you up, how good he would feel inside of you.

“- So ? Aren’t you going to say anything ?”

The sound of his hand around his cock was starting to resonate in his room, spreading his pre-cum onto his shaft and going faster. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about you wanting to know his fantasies about yourself, sitting there so prettily but still fully clothed, while he was jerking off for your eyes only.

“- I-I thought a lot about… About fucking you, especially when you’re wearing these damn skirts.

- What about my skirts ? Don’t you like them ?”

If he wasn’t already blushing, he was definitely right now, not only because of his confession, but mostly because your pouty lips had him thinking about sliding his cock between them and he felt close to cumming already just because of this, just because you were playing with him and he loved it a little too much.

“- Fuck ! I do, I do, but they make me want to eat you out so bad, you have no idea how hard it is to sit next to you when you have them on.”

Jake closed his eyes for a few seconds, missing your proud smile as you watched his face scrunch up in pleasure. Since he did nothing but listen to you – and make you even more wet – you decided to reward him by removing your tank top, letting him finally see your breast.

“- You’re so hot Y/N… I wanna touch you…

- But you’ll just have to watch for now, okay ?”

For now ? Jake didn’t want to dig on what you meant, too entranced by the sight of your hands coming up to play with your nipples like he dreamt about doing, forcing another moan out of his mouth. How bad he wished he was the one massaging your boobs right now, how bad he wanted them in his mouth and your hands tugging on his hair.

“- I want to see more of you, pretty, please…”

Your eyes shifted from his dick to his face, your mouth watering at his fucked out look zeroing on your hands on your chest and fingers pinching your nipples. But hearing Jake beg for you was too pleasing, you needed more of his pleas, more of his airy moans. It was like a drug you were slowly becoming addicted to.

“- Beg some more, and I’ll think about it.

- Please Y/N, please, it’s not fair, I want to see your pussy, been dreaming about it, please.”

The fact that he didn’t even hesitate before doing it made your head spin with want, clouding your mind with lust as you got rid of your clothes too and sat down in front of the camera again.

“- Shit ! You’re so fucking hot pretty, making me want to fuck you so bad.

- I really wished you were here Jake, wished you could be the one touching me like that.”

As you were talking, you spread your legs for him, your feet sitting on your desk so he had a full view of your soaked pussy and your little fingers playing with your clit.

“- Is it enough for you ? Or do you want even more ?”

The way Jake’s tongue poked out of his mouth to lick his lips had you thinking back to him eating you out, and how good that would feel. A soft whimper escaped you when you slipped two fingers into your hole, too excited to wait for his answer. The way he was lazily stroking his cock was driving you insane, and you didn’t care if you looked desperate for him anymore, because you were and all you wanted was him right now.

“- Would feel so much better if it was your fingers…

- You don’t know how much I want that… You’re so wet, you’re dripping everywhere baby, fuck ! I want to lick your pretty cunt so bad….”

Another moan rolled off your tongue, closing your eyes for a second before opening them again because you didn’t want to miss the show Jake was putting on for you, his hand moving way faster now that he got to witness your naked body and the sinful vision you offered him. Your fingers couldn’t reach that spot you knew he could have, knew that his long hands would be perfect for you.

“- You want that pretty ? Want me to eat your pussy ?

- Oh god, yes ! Please Jake, I need it, I need you…”

The way you were saying his name, full of lust and desire, had him coming close to the edge already. He wished he was with you right now, wished he could hear you scream it again and again, wished you would beg him more and more.

“- I need you too, need you to sit on my cock and ride me.”

He was sitting in the perfect position for you to do just that, and the image wouldn’t leave your mind. You abandoned your nipple to play with your clit, your thighs shaking as you approached your climax.

“- I’m so close, feels so good…

- Me too… Cum for me Y/N.”

This was all you needed for your orgasm to wash over you, clenching so hard around your fingers you could barely move them anymore, circling your clit until it felt too much. Jake had to bite his lips and quickly remind himself that he was not home alone to hold himself back from releasing a litany of filthy moans as he spilled all over his abs, covering them in his release that you wanted to lick off from his body so badly.

During a moment, the only sound was the one of your heavy breathing, trying to get a hold of what just happened. As you were about to say something, a knock against your door interrupted your thoughts, eyes widening in surprise. You rushed to end the call with Jake, not even taking the time for a goodbye before dressing up quickly and trying to not look like you just had the best orgasm of your life as you opened the door of your bedroom.

“- Are you alright ? I thought I heard you scream…”

You smiled innocently at your Yeji, hoping that she would not interrogate you further because your legs were still weak and trembling and your face was obviously flushed.

“- Oh, yeah, I just hit my toes against the bed, that’s why.”

Luckily, she seemed to accept your excuse and you plopped down on your bed after closing the door behind you. What the fuck just happened ? Did you really have sex over a facetime with Jake ? It was usually something you dreamt about but that never occurred in real life. But with the way he was blowing up your phone, there was no way this was not true.

If you thought that this would ease the tension between the two of you, you were definitely wrong. Because when you saw each other for the first time after this one call, you felt ten times more attracted to him than before, almost getting wet just seeing him smirk at you as you entered the classroom. Sure, you had texted each other during the week, but neither one of you dared to address the subject directly, too embarrassed and afraid that it would ruin everything.

But you couldn’t lie : you wore the shortest skirt you owned today on purpose, only because you wanted a reaction out of him. And a reaction you got. As soon as Jake took in your entire outfit, his gaze darkened, mouth opening just enough for his tongue to dart out and lick his lips as if he wanted to devour you. If you weren’t wet already, now, your panties were definitely soaked with the way he was eying you up and down.

“- Hi Jake ! How was your weekend ? Must have been great to see your parents.”

He didn’t expect you to strike up such a casual conversation with him, but his mind was already far away, staring at the way your skirt rode up your thighs when you sat down, revealing even more of your skin. Jake had to turn his gaze away from you for a few moments to focus back on how to form sentences and answer you.

“- It was cool, yeah. And how was yours ? Did you have fun ?

- Actually, it was very fun. Something interesting happened.”

The grin stretching out your lips didn’t go unnoticed, Jake’s eyes zeroing on them and wishing he could kiss you right now, wishing he could have you grinding down on his lap and making out with him. He was snapped out of his daydreaming when Mr.Lee entered the classroom loudly, as usual.

“- Hello everyone ! Today you’re gonna work on your projects, and I’ll come see where all of you are so I can help you if you need it.”

Working together turned out to be way more complicated than you thought it would. Jake wouldn’t stop subtly caressing your arms or your hands, coming way more closer to you than necessary when you had something to show him, his thigh pressed against yours underneath the table. But two could play a game, right ? Too bad you dropped your pen on the floor and had to get up to pick it up. Too bad your skirt was so short that when you bent over, Jake could catch a glimpse of your panties. Too bad the hand you landed on his thigh to get his attention was so close to his crotch.

By the end of the class, you were just dying to come back home and relieve the unbearable heat you were feeling, almost squirming in your chair. If he had you wrecked with only that, you didn’t dare to think of how good he would actually be able to ruin you. But what was infuriating was how he didn’t even seem to be affected by the whole situation, despite his leg bouncing up and down, and his lips swollen from biting them. Still, you wanted to get back at him. After all, it was his fault if your call took another turn, and it was his fault your panties were ruined right now.

With how fast you escaped the classroom, Jake didn’t expect you to ask him to meet up, especially in an area he knew was unknown by most students. His body was tingling in anticipation, wondering what you were going to do next. Maybe he loved this little game too much, and maybe it was risky because he almost popped a boner in class, but it was worth it if it was for you.

“- What do you want pretty ?

- Give me your hand.”

You could see that he was confused, but he did what you asked nevertheless, so you could place something in his palm, closing his fingers around what seemed to be a piece of fabric, which was a little damp.

“- You feel how wet you made me ? This is what you do to me Jake. Now, enjoy your next classes.”

He watched you go away, definitely hard this time when he realized you really gave him your panties, and that the material was, in fact, soaked in your juices. Behind you, you heard him swear loudly and rush to his class to not be late, a smirk spreading on your lips. It was his turn to suffer a little.

Jake didn’t even take the time to greet his roommate when he came home, tracing a beeline to his room and locking the door before he dropped his bag on the floor. He got out your panties that were stuffed in his pocket, the fabric still a little wet. You were the reason he didn’t pay attention to his last class of the day, not able to understand a single thing his professor was saying. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to jerk off with them, couldn’t stop thinking of you going home with nothing underneath your skirt.

That was enough to make him hard all over again. Quickly, Jake got rid of his jeans and underwear, laying down on his bed with a hand already wrapped around his painfully hard dick. Without an ounce of shame, he lifted your panties to his nose, inhaling your scent and immediately moaning. He was already addicted to this, to you, to the way you were playing with him.

Jake could already feel his tip leaking pre-cum, and he knew that he was not going to last long, especially after you had edged him all day. It was as if he could still feel your hand on his thigh, too close to his crotch for his sanity. And every time you touched his arm to have his attention, it was like your fingers were leaving a trail of fire behind them, a shiver running down his spine every time your warmth left him.

The smell of your juices was driving him insane, sticking his tongue out to lick it off the material. He sped up his movements unconsciously, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, incapable of holding back his moans anymore. He didn’t care if Jay could hear him or not, he didn’t care if what he was doing was disgusting, if he was a creep for loving it all. You already tasted like heaven like this, and he knew that as soon as you’d let him go down on you for real, he would never want to pull out from your pussy ever again.

Once he could taste nothing but his own saliva that had completely drenched your panties, he wrapped it around his cock, the friction feeling so much better than his own hands, but not coming close to what yours would feel, he knew it. His mind couldn’t stop drifting away to a sick scenario in which you were watching him do all that, in which you were telling him how disgusting he was, in which he was begging for you to touch him. The thought was enough to push him over the edge, moaning your name loudly as he came all over this stomach and your panties.

“- Fuck…”

Without a second thought, he reached for his pants on the floor, getting his phone out to take a picture of the mess he had made. The material was still wrapped around his cock, making sure you had a great view of his abs covered in his cum and his tip still leaking. As soon as he hit “send”, Jake plopped down on the sheets again, closing his eyes for a while. He knew he had to get up, take a shower and do his homework, but the only thing plaguing his mind was you. Only you.

Of course, the teasing didn’t stop there, neither of you being able to stop. You had sexted each other during classes, not paying any attention to the actual lesson, too busy telling the other the dirtiest things. It felt even better when Jake did it during your science class, blowing up your phone with messages filled with praises of how gorgeous you looked today, of how your outfit was suiting you perfectly, of how much he wished he could fuck you on your desk right now, of how much he just wanted to get out of here and show you how good he could make you feel.

You had not given up on your skirts and dresses, which were getting shorter and tighter as time went on. And Jake had not given up on putting his hand on your thigh, which was getting closer and closer to your core everytime you were sitting side by side. The flirting comments he whispered in your ears got more and more unhinged, and the pictures you sent to him got more and more revealing. Jake had started to save them in a locked file, but always making sure to send something back so it was fair - and not at all because he loved the idea of you drooling over his body, or touching yourself while looking at his nudes.

And even if Jake loved the game, he couldn’t wait for the moment he would finally have you. Because he was so close to breaking down the act when you sent him an audio message of you moaning his name, going on and on about how much you wished he was with you right now, about how much you needed him. It was late at night, and Jake was ready to go to sleep, but he was quick to slip his hand in his underwear, jerking off to the sound of your whines and begs that he listened to on repeat from this moment on. And he was seeing so clearly the sinful image of you fingering yourself that hadn’t left his mind since this video call, the same image that was imprinted in his memories.

He was almost ready to go out at 1am and come to your apartment, but he was too tired and mostly, he wanted to win, even if it was pointless because he knew that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. So he settled on sending you a video just when he was coming, while telling you how bad he wished you could be riding him right now, how bad he wished he could fill you up with his cum. And you replied with a close up of your wet pussy that ended up in his locked file.

It was also very fun to talk casually in front of everyone else, as if Jake wasn’t fucking you with his eyes, as if you hadn’t sent him another filthy text last night where you were calling him your good boy. The sexual tension between you and Jake was so high that neither Yeji or Jay could even bear to look your way without being disgusted - their words, not yours. And the way you were both always smiling, giggling and blushing everytime the other sent you something had your two friends desesperate for you to finally fuck each other and stop flirting in front of them - again, their exact words. You knew Yeji was happy for you and just liked to tease, but you were just as eager as her to get laid.

But you will not be the one to give up. You wanted Jake to surrender before you did. Why ? Just because it was much more fun that way. Hence why you were standing so close to Jungwon. And Jake was clearly not having it, watching the two of you from his seat in the classroom, jaw clenched and gaze burning a hole in your friend’s back. The way you were touching his arm and laughing at his jokes shouldn’t have made him jealous. After all, you were not his, you were not his girlfriend, and he didn’t even kiss you yet. But still, it didn’t stop him from wanting to swat Jungwon away from you when he hugged you.

Your innocent smile as you sat next to him and asked him how his day went so far did not help. He could see right through you, could see that you did that on purpose. And this time, it worked. Jake didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t want this to stop, but he had to do it or he would go insane. While you were cautiously taking notes, he took his phone out, accustomed to texting you during class by now. During a little break, you looked at your phone and grinned seeing a new message from Jake, asking you to join him in the same corridor you gave him your panties a few weeks before. You had to bite your lips to not let a big smile invade your whole face, because you knew very well what it meant, your body tingling with excitement.

At this point, Jake had no self control anymore. All he wanted was you. All he needed was you. And he was not going to survive if he didn’t actually have you in the next few minutes. However, a small part of him was anxious, overwhelming him with the doubt that maybe, just maybe, you really only wanted the game, and not him. He should have heard your footsteps resonating in the empty hallway, but he was into his thoughts and only did acknowledge your presence when you came into his view, not letting him utter a word before you grabbed him by his jacket and kissed him. His brain stopped working, wide eyed and not moving until you let him go.

“- Are you okay ?”

Jake shook his head at you, before reaching to grab your waist, pushing you against the nearest wall, lips only inches away from yours.

“- No… You’ve been driving me crazy since the first day Y/N, I want you.

- Then take me.”

That was all he needed to lean in and kiss you again, harder, messier as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You moaned against his lips, tugging him closer to you by his jacket and he took the hint, pushing his body impossibly close to yours. The way he was kissing you, as if he had an insatiable hunger for you, had you wet in seconds, and you could feel his boner pressing against your thigh, an obvious proof that you were just as desperate for this to happen.

Neither one of you was thinking about the fact that you were in a hallway, and that anyone could walk in on you, heavily making out. It didn’t matter to Jake, too lost in the taste of your lips and tongue against his to care about anything else. He finally had you all for himself, finally had you where he wanted, finally had a taste of you. And he already knew that he was going to get addicted, that he wouldn’t want anyone after you because it was like you were made for him. Eventually, you needed to breathe and had to detach yourself from his lips, Jake chasing yours and letting a quiet whine escape him when you started to grind your hips against his.

“- Fuck… Do you feel how bad I need you pretty ?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself with making sentences, not when he was holding your gaze and all you could see in his eyes was lust and desire. This look alone made you want to drop on your knees for him right now, and the way he started to pepper your neck with his kisses didn’t help either, taking a hold of his hair and moving faster against him.

“- I need you too Jake… Need you to use me…

- Don’t say that if you don’t want to get fucked for everyone to see.”

His voice had dropped lower, his hot breath fanning against the skin of your neck where you knew for sure he had already left some hickeys. And he didn’t feel guilty at all. He wanted everyone to know you were his, even if you technically weren’t. Jake knew that if he didn’t leave now, he would never have the strength to do so.

“- I have to go pretty…

- I know…”

You knew but you kissed him again anyway, hoping that the taste of his lips against yours would linger for as long as possible. When Jake finally had the courage to stop you, he was already ten minutes late for his next class and cock hard as a rock in his pants, but who cared if he got to have you all needy and desperate for him - as if he wasn’t just as needy and desperate for you.

“- Come over at mine tonight, okay ? I’ll kick Jay out, and I’ll be all yours pretty.

- Okay, text me later ?

- I will.”

Jake pressed one last kiss on your forehead before he started to run for his class, praying that it would be enough for him to calm down and stop thinking about all the things he was going to do to you.

Jake was probably more nervous right now than he had ever been in his entire life, and he had had many situations to be anxious about. However, the fact that you were going to come over in less than five minutes made his palms sweat and his heart beat faster. He didn’t really know why he was feeling so panicked, because you obviously showed him on numerous occasions how much you were yearning for him too, there was no way you would stand him. But if he did something wrong ? If it was not what you had expected and you decided that you didn’t want to see him again after that ?

This last idea in particular was running in his head. Because he didn’t want to have you just for one night, he didn’t want to fuck you and then let you walk away as if he wasn’t crazy over you, as if you didn’t make him feel shy everytime you smiled at him. But the more he was thinking about it, the more his heart ached at the scenario. So he stuck to trying to distract himself on his phone until you arrived.

He didn’t really do anything in particular, didn’t litter the whole place with rose petals and candles, but everything was cleaned perfectly and he even cooked so you had something to eat if you happened to be hungry. It was strange to be suddenly so anxious about meeting up with you. Because he was not nervous when he texted you all his fantasies about you, he was not nervous when he sent you pics and videos of his dick, he was not even nervous when he made out with you in this corridor later. But now, he could feel his hands shaking as he tried his best to open the door for you without looking like a complete idiot. But how was he supposed to stay calm and collected when you were standing at his door, wearing a little black dress that took his breath away.

“- Are you going to let me in or not ?”

Jake finally snapped out of his haze hearing your teasing tone, and he had to mentally restrain himself from letting his eyes wander all around your silhouette. And immediately, he forgot all about being anxious, grabbing you by your wrist and pulling you inside, closing the door and pushing you against it quickly. Your whole body felt on fire from his hands on your waist alone.

“- I’ve waited so long for this, pretty, wanted you since the first day.”

Your own hands came to play with his hair, bringing his face closer to yours, grinning as he tried to focus on your eyes and lips at the same time.

“- Yeah ? Wanna show me how much ?

- I’m going to make you feel so good, make you scream my name for all the neighbors to hear.”

You licked your lips, your gaze locking with each other. Slowly, Jake’s face got closer to yours, one of his hands leaving your waist to rest on your cheek, tilting your head up so he could kiss you. He wanted all this to be perfect, wanted to take his time with you, wanted to hold you close to him and satisfy every one of your needs. But as soon as he got another taste of you, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting more, all the teasing from these past months reaching its climax as he devoured you, his tongue passionately dancing with yours.

You couldn’t hide anymore the effect he had on you, the slightest brush of his thigh against yours having you sighing in his mouth. But you needed more, needed to feel more of him, more of his skin against yours. That was why you let your hands drop from his neck to the hem of his shirt, sliding your fingers underneath the material, finally able to touch the beautiful abs you could only see in pictures and videos.

Jake’s eyes landed on the hickeys he left earlier, smirking at the fact that your dress didn’t hide them at all. And he made it his mission to cover the other side of your neck as well, his kisses trailing from the corner of your mouth, along your jawline and finally landing on the sensitive skin that he immediately started licking and nipping at. He was used to hearing your little whimpers of pleasure, but it was even more addicting to hear them when he was the one provoking them, even better when he could feel your hands tugging on his hair, even better when he could grip your ass at the same time.

“- Jake… I need you…

- Mh ? But you have me pretty…”

You could feel his grin against the skin of your neck as he kept sucking on it, his hand slipping underneath your dress to feel your bare skin. He could be as cocky as he wanted, in the end he was getting even more hard just by kneading at the plush flesh of your thighs. And you knew that, and you wouldn’t let his arrogance be. One of your hands came up to grab his jaw, forcing him to look you in the eyes while the other slid down to his crotch, squeezing his hard on enough for Jake to let out a gasp of both surprise and pleasure.

“- Don’t get so confident baby, you know how good I am at edging you and you don’t want that now, do you ?

- No…”

His voice was barely above a whisper, lips parted, breathing heavily and eyes wide open. You were sometimes getting more assertive in your texts, but to really experience it was different. He loved when you were begging him, but if you wanted him to play in your fantasy and dominate him, you could bet that he would be the best sub ever.

“- Good boy. Take me to your room.”

That was all Jake needed to carry you through his apartment, managing to get to his bed while kissing you again, and again, and again. He laid you down on his sheets, unaware of how hot you thought he was for being able to do that so effortlessly. You wanted to get on top of him and worship him all night. But for now, you simply watched him discarding his shirt and sweatpants on the floor, biting your lips at the sight.

“- Come here.”

And he did it, caging you in with his arms before going back to kissing you while you let your hands roam around his body, touching up every inch of skin you could reach - his back, his arms, his abs, everything. You needed to have his skin against yours, to really feel him. His own fingers were sliding underneath your dress, caressing your thighs, your ass, your lower back. But all these clothes were getting annoying, he wanted to see you, have your whole body in display for his gaze only. He needed to see in person what you had shown him so many times in pictures and videos.

“- Can I take these off ?”

You simply nodded, a sigh of relief coming out of your mouth when Jake helped you get rid of everything you were wearing, starting from your jacket that you didn’t even have the time to discard because he immediately jumped on you. Then, he threw away your little boots and your socks, and finally your dress, revealing the black, laced lingerie set you had on. Another smirk played on your lips when you saw shock as well as lust play in his eyes.

“- You like it ?”

His hands were almost shaking as he put them back on your body, grazing the skin with his fingers slowly. If he liked it ? He could feel his cock twitching at the view alone. You were like a sinful goddess, and you were here for him only, sprawled out on his bed, waiting for him to make you feel good.

“- Fuck, yes, you’re so hot pretty… Can I touch you ?”

You smiled at him, finding his carefulness even more attractive. As an answer, you took his hands in your own, guiding them to your breast, letting him massage it over your bra as he looked at you like you casted a spell on him. And truth be told, you might have done just that because he soon found himself unable to keep his hands for himself. In the span of a few seconds, Jake had pushed your boobs out of the coffin of your bra, his lips coming down to play with one of your nipples while his fingers were giving attention to the other.

Your hands quickly came back down to grab his hair, whines leaving your mouth every time his own closed around your nipple. Your mind was already clouded with pleasure and desire, having waited for too long for exactly that to happen, and you didn’t have any patience left : you wanted his cock, and you wanted it now. In one swift movement - and because Jake didn’t expect you to do that - you managed to get him on his back where you were laying seconds before, straddling his lap. Immediately, he found your waist again, his big hands tugging you closer to his cock, where he needed you.

“- If you wanted to be on top, you could’ve just said that, princess.”

You wanted to kiss that stupid, proud grin out of his face, but instead you decided to strip him from his underwear, finally getting to see his cock for real. And it was even more pretty, even more bigger, even more perfect for you.

“- I just need your cock, I don’t care how, I just need it.”

How eager you were to touch him too had Jake groaning and releasing a moan as soon as you started to stroke his cock. He loved the fact that you simply took what you wanted from him, and he was ready to let you use him in any way you wished if that made you happy. However, all the times he imagined how your hand would feel around his dick couldn’t compare to how it really was, to how good it really was.

“- Do whatever you want to me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice to lower your head and be at the same level as his cock, sticking out your tongue immediately and coming to lick his flushed tip. The sight was unholy, tempting him to push the rest of his shaft in between your lips right now. Jake couldn’t even recall all the times he closed his eyes and thought about your mouth closing around his dick instead of his hands. And now you were really there, spitting on it and spreading your saliva before taking him in your mouth.

He couldn’t help but throw his head back, his hands coming down to take a hold of your hair, following the movement of your head. The feeling of having you suck his dick couldn’t compare to anything he had fantasized about before. And if you weren’t so busy trying to fit his big cock in your throat, you would have teased him because he looked so fucked out already and you hadn’t done anything yet. Little by little, you managed to fit all of him down your throat, and the moan he let out at you hollowing your cheeks, making you even more wet if possible.

“- Fuck ! Your mouth feels so warm, so good…”

Even when you started to bob your head up and down, he didn’t look down at your face, but you wanted his full attention, wanted to see him lose all his composure. Your hands were resting against his thighs, and you started to graze his skin with your nails, effectively getting him to open his eyes and focus on you again. Another moan left his lips just from seeing you like this.

“- Please, don’t stop…”

And you didn’t, feeling his grip on your hair tightening as you took him all the way down once more. If Jake wasn’t trying to not lose his mind over how well you were taking him, he would have loved to wipe the smug expression out of your face. But for now, all he could do was moan and whine and look at you through hooded eyes, loving how much of a mess you were, with a mix of saliva and pre-cum dribbling from the corner of your lips. He couldn’t resist anymore the urge to thrust his cock up in your mouth, closing his eyes again at the feeling of your tight throat around him.

“- Wanna cum in your mouth so bad pretty, can I ? Please, please, let me…”

You hummed in agreement, far too fucked out yourself to do anything else than taking what he was giving to you. At this point, he was simply using you for his own pleasure but you just let him because you loved it, loved how he claimed you by ruining your throat.

“- Shit Y/N ! Gonna fill you up, yeah ?”

A moan escaped you, the vibration sending Jake over the edge, his hips halting their movement, buried deep inside of your warm mouth and spilling his load right there, your eyes watering as you tried to swallow it all. Jake felt on cloud nine, and he knew that he would not need anyone else for the rest of his life because you were definitely made for him, perfect for him. You got one second to breathe when Jake pulled on your hair, taking you away from his cock and bringing you up to his lips, kissing you deeply and tasting himself on your tongue, loving the nasty mix of both your saliva and his cum. When he finally let you go, you couldn’t help but zeroing again on his red, swollen lips that he was biting while looking intently at you.

“- You did so well for me, pretty, such a good girl.”

His forehead was pressed against yours, cupping your face, thumbs whipping away the tears who had rolled down your cheeks. You felt even more turned on by how thoughtful he was, by his praises, by his sweet gestures despite being so rough with you.

“- Need you Jake…

- Want me to return the favor ?

- Yes, please…”

You felt so desperate for any kind of touch, your body tingling with anticipation as Jake switched position and laid you down on the bed again. He’ll get you to sit on his face another time, when his mind will be clear enough, when he’ll have the patience and self control to make you cum at least two times. He quickly got rid of your bra, even if you looked heavenly in them. But the sight of your naked body was even more appealing. Soon, his hands were all over you again, roaming around your skin and making you shiver. His lips found purchase on your neck again, littering it with more of his kisses and marks.

“- Don’t tease, please, I want you so bad…”

A single swear escaped Jake’s lips as he helped you out of your panties, bringing them to his nose and making a show out of sniffing them and groaning at the intoxicating scent, allowing you to picture how he looked when he had jerked off with your ruined underwear. Then, he threw them away somewhere in his room, not caring where it landed and grabbing you by your thighs to bring you close to his face, holding them wide open for him. The view of your bare and wet pussy had him getting hard all over again.

“- Such a pretty cunt baby, bet you taste just as sweet.”

His praises had you shying away from his dark gaze, but you were not able to hold back your little whimpers. Jake chuckled lightly before diving straight into your wet folds, having had enough of teasing you when he was just as desperate to taste you as you were to feel him. The second he licked up your wetness, it was over for him. He could be as cocky as he wanted but not when he felt his cock throbbing only at the taste of your pussy, not when you were invading all his senses as he buried his face between your plush thighs, sucking harshly on your clit.

Every moan that came out of your lips only spurred him on to continue, to go harder. When he felt you squirming around, he made sure to grip your thighs and keep them in place for him to have better access to your cunt. The way his skillful tongue was taking turns between playing with your clit, licking up your folds and going inside had you losing your mind already, both hands coming down to tug on his hair as if you wanted to keep him there forever.

“- Fuck ! Jake…”

He opened his eyes again at hearing your cries of his name, diving in your lustful gaze. Your parted lips allowed you to whine out everytime his mouth was on you, your cheeks were dusted pink because of the unbearable heat of your body and your hair was a tangled mess, thanks to Jake’s hands earlier. But to him, you never looked better, an heavenly sight for only him to witness.

“- Feels good pretty ?”

You nodded along, a quiet whimper echoing through the room at the loss of contact with his wet muscle.

“- Yes ! Yes, so good…”

Jake knew that, but to hear you say it had a smirk playing on his lips, and you couldn’t even be mad about it because he was looking insanely hot doing it. You could feel the pad of his fingers creeping up the skin between your knees and hips, so slowly it made shivers come alive on your whole body. And when he was almost touching your wet folds, he started all over again with your other leg, this time going as far as debuting at your ankle, and coming up even more lazily.

“- Please…

- Please what, pretty ?

- You know what I’m talking about !”

Your pouting face was too cute for Jake to not want to tease you more. He loved it when you made him go crazy, loved when you were getting him hard in the most inappropriate situations because you sent him a picture of your boobs. But it was also enjoyable to have you in the palm of his hand, dying for him to touch you. He rested his hands on the insides of your thighs, so close to where you needed him and yet so far away.

“- Hum, I don’t think so baby, you need to use your words if you want something.”

The grin on his face got even wider when he witnessed the way your hole clenched around nothing at his demanding tone, at his deep, low voice. He suspected that you had a thing for it since you were always biting your lips when he facetimed you early in the morning or late at night with his hoarse voice.

“- Come on, don’t get shy on me now, you told me a lot more worse before.”

You did. You definitely did with all the filthy texts you exchanged, and all the photos, videos and audios you sent, and your panties which were still sitting in one of his drawers like the ultimate proof of how naughty you were.

“- Want your fingers…

- Here we go. That wasn't so difficult, princess, was it ?”

You shook your head no as Jake dived back into your cunt, his lips finding their spot back on your clit, while his hand finally reached your wet folds. His touch was as light as a feather, but still enough to tear a noise out of you, still enough to make you crave more. All it took was a slight tug on the strands of hair you were still gripping and suddenly, you could feel one of his fingers entering you slowly, so as to not hurt you.

“- Good ?”

You nodded energetically, releasing a sigh of relief to have something filling your empty pussy, and you didn’t even need to tell Jake for him to understand that you wanted more, inserting another finger while still playing with your clit with his tongue. And when he started to pump his fingers in and out, you knew that you wouldn’t last long, especially not when he seemed to have figured out exactly how to make you lose your mind. You couldn't stop the noises from coming out of your mouth anymore, pushing Jake's head even closer to your core if that was even possible, grinding on his face as pleasure coursed through your veins and the knot in your stomach snapped.

Your breath was knocked out of your lungs, and you almost didn't feel his gentle kisses on your inner thighs to help you come down off your high. What you did feel though was him pulling out his fingers and bringing them to your lips. He smiled sweetly at your obedience, watching you through his lashes as you opened your mouth and let him bury them inside, even moaning around his fingers just like you did around his dick.

“- So good for me, fuck, you're so pretty…”

He wanted to lick off your lips the string of saliva connecting them to his fingers, wanted to make out with you and your pussy for the rest of his life. Silence came back in his room, only broken by your heavy breathings, looking into each other's eyes as if you could read your minds.

“- You’re gonna fuck me or not ?”

Your teasing smirk and the challenging tone of your voice brought a grin on his face, which widened at the strangled moan you let out when he grabbed your hips and forced you to turn around, getting you on your knees, ass up and pushing your head down his pillow. He was doing with his hands everything he did with his words : ordering you around, telling you how to place the camera so he had the best view of your dripping cunt, not letting you cum before he did. Without letting you have any more time to think, Jake was pushing the tip of his cock between your folds, sliding right in with how wet you were. You couldn’t see him from your position, but you could hear his deep groan as you clenched around him.

“- All you need is a little bit of dick to shut your big mouth uh ?”

You wanted to protest, to say no, to answer something that would have made him shut up, but all that came out of your lips was a cry of his name as he thrusted all the way in. If he wasn’t holding your hips up, you would’ve collapsed, overwhelmed by the rush of pleasure in your body at feeling so full suddenly.

“- Yeah, that’s it, just a slut who needs to be fucked.”

As much as Jake wanted to sound composed, his voice was shaking, and the moan that left him just after was really far from composed. The feeling of your tight, warm, velvety walls had him wondering why he waited so long before fucking you because it had to be what heaven felt like. Slowly, he pulled his cock out, only to thrust back inside roughly, the sound of your whimpers mingling with his deep groans.

“- Fuck ! You’re perfect for my cock, pretty little pussy.”

At this point, you could only whine in his pillow, mumbling on and on about how good he felt, about how you had wanted this for so long. And Jake wanted to be cocky about it, wanted to tease you for being so desperate for his cock, but he wasn’t doing any better, barely resisting the urge of painting your walls white on the spot. You had told him so many times over text and even during your calls how much you wanted him to fuck you raw, how much you needed him to fill you up to the brim, it was the only thing he could think about right now.

“- You want me to fill you up with my cum ? Is that what you want ?”

You moaned in response, your brain too mushy to think about anything else than the way the tip of his cock was hitting your sweet spot over and over. But that didn’t seem to satisfy him as he pulled on your hair, yanking your head back. Another noise fell out of your lips at his rough actions and you could feel the smirk on his lips when they brushed against your ear while he was talking.

“- Words pretty.

- Yes, fuck ! I want your cum Jake, want it all, please !”

- Such a good little slut, shit !”

You felt your eyes watering again with the increasing speed of Jake’s thrusts, the rush of pleasure through your body too good to resist anymore. Your orgasm washed over you before you could even register it, leaving you a moaning and incoherent mess in his hold. The feeling of your cunt getting even more tight was enough for Jake to cum too, spilling his load inside of you with a throaty groan.

You were tired, but still, the tingling sensation in your core was there. You wanted more of his cock, more of his moans, more of his hands on you, more of him. A quiet whine fell from your lips when Jake started kissing your back up and down, his hands caressing your hips to soothe the skin he had marked. And you knew all of this was supposed to be sweet and caring, but all it did was turn you on even more, your cunt squeezing his cock that was still buried inside. You felt some of his cum spilling out and sliding down your thighs, followed closely by a swear from Jake.

“- You’re getting me hard again pretty…”

You turned your head to look at him, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy, lips swollen and red from his kisses, and hair a mess because of his hands. And Jake could swear it was the most divine you’ve ever looked - when he had just ruined you.

“- Let me ride you then.

- Fuck, yes.”

You chuckled at his eagerness when he pulled out from your leaking cunt, trying not to drool at the sight as he plopped down on his bed, grabbing your thighs and bringing you on his lap. But you couldn’t really make fun of him when you had dreamt about this for just as long. You traced along the marks that already started to blossom on his skin, grinning proudly at your work and loving how sensitive Jake was, taking a deep breath as you took his cock in your hand, brushing the tip against your entrance.

“- Y/N… Please…”

The way the word came so easily to him paired with his whine of your name convinced you to not make him wait any longer and to sink on his dick instead, both of you moaning at the feeling. It felt so much deeper this way, and you knew only from the photos that he was big, but you were only acknowledging just how much now.

“- Feels so good Jake, love your big cock…”

He desperately wanted to answer something, wanted to tell you how delicious you were, but you took his breath away when you started rocking your hips back and forth. And suddenly, the only thing he was able to think about was you. His hands were on your waist, but he didn’t have enough consciousness left to even help you bounce up and down, simply staring at you, mesmerized.

A flood of dirty words was coming out of your mouth, praising him and his dick, telling him how good he felt, how handsome he was. And Jake loved the attention, loved to feel your hands dangerously close to his neck, close enough for him to want your fingers wrapped around his throat, close enough for you to purposely restrict his breathing a little without really choking him. Only the squelching of your mixed juices and the ones of your cries of pleasure could be heard in the room, both of you too fucked out to care about anything else than your release.

“- Can I cum inside again, pretty, please ? Please, let me…

- Yes, want it so bad !”

Jake closed his eyes as he felt his orgasm approaching, lifting his hips to meet your thrusts. He was only able to do it a few times before his cock twitched, cumming deep inside. He kept you down on his lap until he felt on the verge of passing out. The erotic moans and whimpers he let out triggered your own climax, and everything was even more intense because of the slight overstimulation. You grinned your hips against him a few more times before your arms and legs gave out and you collapsed on top of him, his arms immediately wrapping around your sweaty body.

You closed your eyes for a moment, and you were almost ready to fall asleep when Jake moved you off of him and stood up. You whined and grabbed him by his wrist, trying to pull him back to the bed with you.

“- I’m just going to take something to clean us up pretty, I’ll be quick, promise.”

Jake smiled fondly at your pouty lips before kissing them and running to the bathroom to find a towel. He rapidly cleaned your skin, delicately whipping it down and handed you one of his shirts to cover up when he saw you shiver. He discarded the towel on the floor, not having the energy to do anything else than going to sleep with you in his arms right now. He slipped under the covers after having put on some shorts.

You directly snuggled up to him, hiding your face in his neck and breathing his scent in. And Jake couldn’t help the big smile stretching out his lips when he tightened his hold around your waist and distinctly heard you hum against his skin.

“- Y/N ?”

You lifted your head when he broke the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of you, taking in his soft smile, his shiny eyes and his disheveled hairs. Maybe he had looked more put together before, but to you, he was the most beautiful like this.

“- Will you be my girlfriend ?”

And you couldn’t help but reciprocate his smile and shake your head. Sometimes, he was very silly. Sometimes, he could be considered childish. But he was able to bring back sunshine when your days were filled with gray clouds, and he could make you laugh anytime you felt down. Your hands came up to cup his face, delicately brushing your thumbs against his cheekbones.

“- You know, you’re very charming Jake Sim, it’s hard to resist you.”

This time, it was him who hid in your neck, holding you even tighter if it was possible. And you giggled heartedly, a sound that Jake would never get sick of hearing. And maybe he had lost your game, but he had won something even more precious.

BONUS :

You picked up your phone when getting out of the store, holding a little plastic bag with everything you needed to cook a delicious breakfast for you and Jake. Speaking of whom, you had a bunch of messages from him, asking where you were, and if you had ran away. Texts saying how sorry he was if he was too pushy last night, that he would let you as much time as you wanted if it was what you needed. And endless apologies, over and over. You only answered with a quick message letting him know that you would be back quickly.

Meanwhile, Jake was really panicking. When he woke up and felt the space beside him empty and that your clothes weren’t littering the floor of his bedroom anymore, all remnants of sleepiness left his body, immediately looking around the apartment to see if you were anywhere. It was stupid, he knew it, if you had left, it was certainly for a good reason, but he couldn’t help asking himself if maybe you had come to the conclusion that you didn’t want to be with him. He sat down on one of the kitchen stools, biting his nails while waiting for you to say something else but you didn’t, and stress took over him again.

When you pushed the door open, you were only met with Jake's worried look waiting for you in the kitchen. He was only wearing the same pair of gray sweatpants as last night and you couldn’t stop your mind from going back to how good it all felt, but the object of your fantasies stopped your thoughts from going too far.

“- Where were you !?

- I was at the store down the street, to buy us breakfast.”

You lifted your bag and dropped it on the kitchen counter before making your way over to Jake until you could run your fingers through his hair. The hands of the boy came up to rest on your waist, only noticing now that you were wearing his clothes, his heart beating faster at the view.

“- Didn’t you see my note ?”

You looked around and saw that it was still where you had left it, immediately showing it to Jake who was getting more and more embarrassed for getting so worked up over something so stupid.

“- I’m sorry, I just thought that maybe you didn’t mean what you said last night and that you realized that this morning and decided to leave…”

Jake hesitantly looked up at your face to find you smiling fondly at him. You leaned down to place a kiss on his lips, and another one, and another one, until you had peppered his whole face with kisses and made him giggle shyly.

“- You’re an idiot if you think you’re going to get away from me so easily, I’m not letting you go.

- Good, because I don’t want you to.”

-> i don't allow any copies, translations or reposts of my post.

-> moon dividers by @samspenandsword

enha masterlist (fill in this to be added) :

@bbgnyx @hann1bee @iraisswiftie

#enhypen #enhypen fics #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enha #enha fics #enha x reader #enha smut #jake sim #jake smut #jake sim x reader #jake x reader #college au #eli: lost the game

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