#............i should not be using 'girl' this way i am just now realizing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

biribarabiribbaem · 18 hours ago

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hey look ma, i made it!!! well, italian made it but it was me who helped!!! Glad I could be of help even if we lost possiamo farcela 😉, especially to get rid of Sara cause you girl, nah-ah you're not welcomed in this kitchen. Not now, not ever like... disappear.

awhhh, Chris I knew you were good and friendly and nice!!!! I just hope he realizes how much he fucked up by putting those two together but hey everybody makes mistakes!

This chapter was packed, full, overflowing with different feelings - like felt almost everything. I loved it so much and it's lovely to see some crackling in Minho's wall.

Now I must confess that Minho in the kitchen is my weakness, in all its sexual and intense positive meaning. I love his confidence, the way he moves around, those veiny hands doing wonders... yeah, okay.

The cooking scene at his apartment? Fire. Like she got roasted half of the time but it was good. Like, do you see how well you could work as a team? Plus this scene is where my knowledge of italian was used so maybe I'm being biased but who careeees!

I freaking love these two lives we're living with him being just Minho in one, full of passion, sex drive, all smiling and then there's Chef Lee that has to carry the weight of Farfalle on his shoulders, and now has to share the kitchen with the girl who cause him traumas. Poor him.

I am so excited for the next round, really!!! and if you need help Teacher Marti is here for you!!

ps: you should've seen how stupid I look everytime you wrote that posso farcela like smiling like a total idiot

pps: you making me hungry with all these dishes like craving spinach lasagna at 1 am should not be legal

ppps: i love you 🤍

TASTE.

CHAPTER 2: SWEETBITTER.

Lee Know x reader. (s,a)

TASTE MASTERLIST

Synopsis: When Minho is hired as the head chef of Farfalle, a prestigious Italian restaurant, expectations are high for him to elevate its reputation and bring it to new heights. However, no one anticipates the drastic changes he implements in the kitchen—including his strict rule that that there'll be no women and no romance in his kitchen. (17,1k words)

Author's note: I hope you're hungry because I'm about to serve, well, Minho is, not me. Hope you enjoy this one too. Don't be shy to let me know what you think of this chapter ♡

Sweetbitter. /swēt-ˈbi-tər/ (adj) 1. being at once sweet and bitter 2. pleasant but including or marked by elements of suffering or regret

The memory creeps up on you like the scent of freshly baked bread—warm, comforting, and vivid.

It was three years ago, during the height of dinner service at a restaurant in Milan. You were buried in orders, swiftly plating bowls of tagliatelle and arranging perfectly browned gnocchi when the head chef approached, wiping his hands on his apron.

“A customer wants to personally thank you for the spinach lasagna,” he said, his tone equal parts surprise and pride.

You blinked. Normally, compliments like that were directed at the head chef, but this customer had been insistent about meeting the specific cook behind the dish. The words felt like a crown resting on your shoulders—the highest compliment any chef could receive.

Fixing your coat and smoothing back stray strands of hair, you stepped out of the bustling kitchen. The dining room was a sea of candlelight and muted conversation, and at first, all you could see was the back of the man who had requested your presence. His broad shoulders and casual posture told you little about him.

It wasn’t until you reached his table that he turned to face you.

“Are you the one who made this?” he asked, studying you with an unreadable expression.

“That would be me,” you replied, a polite smile on your lips.

For a moment, he said nothing, his dark eyes scanning your face as though trying to commit it to memory. Then he broke into a genuine smile, one that softened the sharp angles of his face.

“The spinach lasagna,” he began, “was incredible. Dare I say, it was better than sex.”

You froze, startled by the bluntness of his praise. Then, to your own surprise, you laughed—a warm, light sound that seemed to catch him off guard.

“Well,” you said, recovering, “that’s not something I hear every day.”

He chuckled softly, the dimples in his cheeks becoming more pronounced. “I’m Chris.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a sleek business card and handed it to you.

You glanced down at it, reading the elegant font: Christopher Bang.

“I own an Italian restaurant,” he said, his voice calm but persuasive. “I’d love for you to come work with me.”

The offer was so unexpected that you could only gape at him. “Why me?” you finally asked, looking back at him. “There are plenty of... talented chefs in the kitchen tonight.”

Chris leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together as a dimpled smile spread across his face. “I don’t want them. I want you.”

Something about his casual confidence disarmed you. Perhaps it was the warmth in his voice or the sincerity in his eyes, but in that moment, you felt the ground shift beneath your feet.

You didn’t realize it then, but that moment marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. Within weeks, you were on a flight to a new country, leaving behind the familiar comfort of Milan to work at Farfalle.

And now, standing in this restaurant facing him three years later, that memory feels both distant and fresh, a reminder of the strange and unexpected paths life can take.

The dining hall falls silent as Chris steps in, his imposing presence freezing everyone in place. The sleek black suit, the pale complexion, and the calm authority in his gaze demand undivided attention. Whispers ripple through the room, curiosity and disbelief mingling in hushed tones.

“I'll make it short,” Chris begins, his tone steady and authoritative. “I'm closing down the restaurant.”

“What did you say?” Taesoo blurts out in sheer panic.

Chris puts on a small smile and calmly explains. “I will close it down for three days, tentatively. ”

The room erupts in shock. Souschef Hyunwoo steps forward, his voice raised in protest. “What? You can’t close the restaurant during the busiest season! Do you know how much we’ll lose in revenue?”

Chris doesn’t flinch, meeting Hyunwoo’s gaze with a faint, composed smile. “I understand your concern. But this is necessary for the future of Farfalle.”

Felix raises a tentative hand. “So... what are we supposed to do for three days?”

Chris’s smile widens, almost playful. “Rest. Relax. Have fun... and after three days, I want everyone to come back with a new menu idea—a dish that can revive Farfalle. Every single one of you will participate, without exception.”

The room falls silent as everyone processes his words.

Chris continues, his voice unwavering. “However, there’s one condition: the total cost of ingredients for your dish cannot exceed ten dollars. Be creative, be bold, and think about what will make Farfalle stand out. The future of this restaurant depends on those menus.”

He lets the weight of his words settle before finishing with an easy, almost disarming smile. “I’ll see you all in three days.”

Without another word, Chris steps back, leaving the room with the same enigmatic presence with which he entered.

The staff exchange uncertain glances, whispers rippling through the group. Minho crosses his arms, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he straightens. “You heard him,” he says firmly, his gaze sweeping over everyone. “Three days. I’ll see all of you then.”

The hallway outside the manager's office is eerily quiet, the distant sounds of bustling staff fading behind you. You pause in front of the polished wooden door, taking a moment to compose yourself before knocking.

“Come in,” Chris’s voice calls out, calm and collected.

Pushing the door open, you step inside. The office is surprisingly minimalistic, dominated by a large desk and a single window that lets in soft, natural light. Chris sits behind the desk, his tailored black suit as sharp as his presence. His dimples appear as he smiles, clearly having anticipated your visit.

“I figured you’d come,” he says, gesturing for you to sit.

You take a seat, wasting no time. “I’m just as surprised as everyone else to see you here. Shouldn’t you be busy running the rest of your family’s empire?”

Chris leans back in his chair, his smile never faltering. “I’ve been keeping an eye on Farfalle for a while now. The sales have been on a downward spiral, and I decided it was time to step in. Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty to fix things properly.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his explanation. “So, this is personal for you?”

“In a way,” he admits, his tone light but resolute. “I couldn’t just stand by and let it crumble. Now, tell me,” he leans forward, his gaze teasing, “are you happy to see me?”

You let out a soft laugh, meeting his eyes. “It’s... nice to have another man in the restaurant.”

Chris chuckles, his dimples deepening. “Flattery suits you.”

He pauses, the teasing air around him softening. “Before you go, why don’t you cook me some pasta?”

You raise a brow, crossing your arms. “Nope.”

“Why not?” he asks, feigning offense.

“Because I’m going to do exactly what you suggested,” you reply with a sly grin. “Rest, relax, and have fun.”

Chris leans back in his chair, giving you an amused look. “Fair enough.” He gestures toward the door, silently excusing you.

You rise from your seat, heading toward the exit. Just as your hand touches the doorknob, Chris’s voice calls out again.

“Don’t have too much fun though,” he says, the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable.

You glance back, offering a playful smirk. “No promises.” With that, you step out, leaving the office and its enigmatic new occupant behind.

The salty tang of the fish market fills your senses as you weave through the bustling aisles, stalls overflowing with fresh catches of the day. The cacophony of haggling customers and shopkeepers blends into a background hum as you scrutinize each stall, searching for ingredients that won’t break Chris’s strict $10 budget.

Your frustration grows as every inquiry leads to disappointment. Everything you find is either overpriced or unsuitable for the idea forming in your mind. Just as you’re about to give up, something catches your eye.

Minho stands a few stalls ahead, his sharp profile unmistakable even in the chaos of the market. He’s deep in conversation with a shop owner, his posture relaxed but commanding.

Curiosity piqued, you linger just out of sight, trying to catch snippets of their conversation. But the noise of the market drowns out their words. You watch as the shopkeeper gestures toward a selection of fish, and Minho nods thoughtfully before moving on.

The moment he leaves, you step up to the stall. “Excuse me, what was he asking about?” you inquire, gesturing toward Minho’s retreating figure.

The shopkeeper smiles knowingly. “Filefish. He was asking if I had any larger ones for a better price. Told him he’d have better luck at the harbor.”

Filefish? You tuck the information away, thanking the shopkeeper before turning to leave.

But as you make your way toward the exit, you freeze mid-step. Minho is there, leaning casually against a pole, arms crossed as if he’s been waiting for you. His eyes meet yours, a flicker of amusement playing across his face.

"Following me now?" he asks, his tone teasing but edged with curiosity.

You bristle, quickly recovering from your surprise. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Minho smirks, clearly unconvinced. “So, what exactly are you doing here, then?”

You hesitate, debating whether to play coy or confront him about the filefish. Instead, you sidestep his question. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He shrugs, pushing off the pole and walking past you, his voice drifting back. “Just making sure the competition doesn’t get too comfortable.”

Before you can respond, he takes you by the hand and drags you out of the crowd.

The ride back is unexpectedly tense. Minho insisted on giving you a ride home, claiming it would save time, but the silence in the car is thick with unspoken words. You glance at him from the passenger seat, his profile lit by the soft glow of the dashboard.

“So,” you start, breaking the silence, “what are you planning to make for the new menu, chef?”

Minho doesn’t even look at you. “Not telling.”

You scoff, leaning back in your seat. “Why not? Afraid I’ll steal your idea?”

“Exactly,” he replies flatly, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

You roll your eyes but decide to take another approach. “Fine. I’ll tell you mine first. I’m thinking of making fishball pasta. Simple, creative, and within budget.”

Minho glances at you briefly, his expression unreadable. “Good for you.”

Encouraged by the lack of sarcasm in his tone, you press further. “Now your turn, chef.”

“Nope,” he says, his lips twitching with the hint of a smirk. “This is a competition. Why would I share secrets with a competitor?”

The car slows as he pulls up in front of your apartment building. He gestures toward the door. “We’re here. Get out.”

But you stay put, crossing your arms defiantly. “Not until you tell me what you’re making.”

Minho lets out an exasperated sigh, leaning his head back against the headrest. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn,” you counter, flashing him a grin.

After a moment of tense silence, he relents, his tone reluctant. “Fine. I only need the filefish livers.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “The livers? Why just the livers?”

“Because I’m making foie gras out of them,” he explains, his voice tinged with pride. “I want to show the true value of foie gras with it,”

Your gasp is audible, and Minho glances at you, his expression softening at the wonder in your eyes. “That’s… genius,” you breathe.

Minho almost smiles seeing your genuine awe in response to his answer but he hides his amusement, focusing instead on the road ahead. “Are you satisfied now? Get out.”

But instead of complying, you grab his arm, tugging at it lightly. “Wait. Hear me out.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “What now?”

“You don’t need the meat, and I don’t need the livers. If we work together, we can split the cost and stay within budget.”

Minho clicks his tongue, mulling over your suggestion. “Why should I work with you?”

“Because it makes sense,” you argue, meeting his gaze. “You said it yourself—this is a competition. Working together gives us both an edge. Plus, I know where to get bigger and cheaper filefish.”

He narrows his eyes at you, clearly debating the idea. After a moment, he sighs, shaking his head. “If I agree to this, will you finally get out of my car?”

You nod eagerly, a triumphant smile spreading across your face.

Minho pushes the car door open for you, his expression still skeptical. “We’re leaving tonight,” you announce as you step out. “At midnight.”

Minho shakes his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you disappear into the building.

The afternoon feels like it’s slipping away too quickly. You plan to catch some rest before heading to the harbor around midnight, but just as you’re about to settle down, the doorbell rings. Frowning, you glance at the guest cam and see your property agent standing there. A flicker of hope rises—maybe he’s bringing good news about the apartment.

You open the door, your polite smile faltering slightly when you notice he isn’t alone. Beside him stands Sara, her expression calm but assessing as she looks past you into the apartment.

“Good afternoon,” the agent says cheerfully. “I thought I’d stop by to introduce someone interested in sharing the apartment.” He gestures to Sara, who steps forward with an elegant nod.

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh, I see. Well, come in.”

The two of them enter, and you close the door behind them, trying to process the situation. Sara doesn’t waste any time, walking through the living room and kitchen, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. Meanwhile, the agent glances at you with a knowing smile.

“She’s very interested,” he says in a low voice, as if this were the best news you’d heard all week.

Sara returns, stopping a few feet away from you and the agent. “I’ll take it,” she declares confidently.

You nod slowly, her decisiveness catching you off guard again. “Alright, then.”

She crosses her arms and adds with a small smirk, “It’s more convenient sharing with someone I already know.”

You force a smile at that, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “That makes sense.”

Sara tilts her head, her gaze steady on yours. “Would it be alright if I move in tomorrow?”

“Even better,” you reply with as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

As the agent beams at how smoothly this is going, you feel a sinking sensation settle in your stomach. Once Sara leaves, the reality of the situation becomes clear.

Sharing an apartment with Sara might be manageable on its own, but the thought of Minho finding out she’s now living on the same floor as him sends alarm bells ringing in your mind. You don’t even want to think about what could happen if they run into each other.

And worse, you’re now stuck in the middle of it all.

Minho taps his fingers against the steering wheel, the faint rhythm of his impatience echoing in the quiet of his car. It’s been over ten minutes since the agreed-upon midnight meeting, and there’s still no sign of you. With a frustrated sigh, he picks up his phone and dials your number.

The phone rings once, twice, then he sees you sprinting down the street toward his car. He immediately hangs up, watching as you approach, your hurried steps matching the apologetic look on your face.

You slide into the passenger seat, breathless. “I’m so sorry. I fell asleep and—”

Minho raises a hand, cutting you off. “Save it. Let’s just go.”

But as you buckle your seatbelt, Minho notices something off. Your expression isn’t just apologetic—it’s troubled, like you’re carrying the weight of something you don’t want to share. For a moment, he debates calling you out on it but decides against it.

“Where are we going?” he asks instead, breaking the silence.

Without a word, you pull up the address on your phone and input it into the GPS. Minho glances at the screen, then back at you, eyebrows raised. “Hey! Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“I won’t,” you promise, your voice firmer than he expects.

The car rolls to a stop at the harbor after two hours of drive, its headlights cutting through the misty pre-dawn darkness. Minho turns off the engine and glances over at you, only to find you fast asleep in the passenger seat. Your head leans slightly against the window, your lower lip jutting out in a slight pout, and your brows knit together as if something is bothering you even in your dreams.

Minho rolls his eyes but can’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. “So much for not falling asleep,” he mutters under his breath.

He sighs, exasperated, but he doesn’t have it in him to wake you. Instead, he sits back, letting his gaze linger on your peaceful face. For someone who could be so frustrating, you looked oddly…endearing like this. A small, unbidden smile tugs at the corners of his lips, but it vanishes the moment your eyes flutter open.

Caught off guard, Minho immediately looks away, pretending he hadn’t just spent the past few moments watching you sleep.

“Are we here?” you ask, your voice thick with sleep.

Minho’s response is immediate, his tone sharp to mask his embarrassment. “What did I tell you about not falling asleep on me?”

You rub your eyes and stifle a yawn, offering him a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I’ll treat you to coffee, okay? My treat.”

He grumbles but doesn’t protest, and the two of you end up at a small open food stall by the harbor, huddling against the chilly sea breeze with steaming cups of coffee in your hands. The dawn light begins to creep over the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and orange.

Minho takes a sip of his coffee and grimaces. “Seriously? This is what you call a treat? It’s cheap, and it tastes like burnt beans.”

You laugh softly. “I’ll buy you a better one later, promise.”

Without thinking, you scoot closer to him, seeking warmth against the brisk air. Minho stiffens slightly and shrugs his shoulder, half-heartedly pushing you away.

“Why do you like me so much?” he asks, his tone laced with mock annoyance.

Instead of answering, you cling to his side, resting your head against his shoulder. “And why do you hate me so much, chef?” you counter, looking up at him with playful defiance.

Minho blinks, taken aback, before responding quickly. “When did I ever say I hated you?”

You grin and lean in close to pester him. “So that means... you like me?”

He scoffs, feigning nonchalance. “Just drink your coffee!”

Your grin widens, and you cling even tighter to his side, the warmth of your smile radiating in the chill air. Minho glances at you from the corner of his eye, watching the way your eyes shine and how content you look pressed against him. For a moment, he lets himself smile, but when he realizes it, he quickly hides it behind his coffee cup.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, watching as the sun rises over the horizon, its golden light reflecting on the gentle waves. Despite himself, Minho feels a warmth spreading in his chest, one that has nothing to do with the coffee or your proximity. It’s a moment he doesn’t quite understand yet, but it’s one he knows he won’t forget.

The harbor comes alive as ships return from the sea, their decks brimming with the morning’s catch. You stand by, watching Minho as he inspects the filefish, his sharp eyes scanning each one carefully. He negotiates with the fisherman, his tone calm yet firm, discussing the price for a box of the freshest catch.

For the first time in a long while, you see him not as the stern head chef you work with, but as the Minho you knew back in school. There’s a quiet confidence about him, a passion that flickers beneath the surface as he handles the fish with precision and care.

Once the transaction is complete and the box of filefish is secured, you suggest grabbing breakfast before heading back. Minho agrees—but only if you treat him.

You groan, shaking your head and putting on a pitiful look at him. “I just spent most of my money on those fish.”

Minho stops in his tracks and turns to you, giving you that look—the one he wears right before he’s about to scold you. You brace yourself, ready for his biting words, but instead, he asks, “How much money do you have left?”

You blink, surprised by the question, and quickly count the small bills in your pocket. After telling him the amount, he nods decisively. “Go buy some rice and sesame oil with it.”

Without questioning him, you hurry off and return shortly after, only to find Minho by the fisherman’s boat, expertly filleting a fish. His knife glides effortlessly through the flesh, each movement fluid and precise. For a moment, you’re mesmerized by the display of skill, and you can’t help but tease him.

“There’s nothing sexier than a man who knows how to use a knife,” you say with a grin.

Minho scoffs, his lips twitching in what could almost be a smile, he's above to shove the first slice of fish into his mouth but noticing the pitiful look on your face, he refrains and feeds it into your mouth. The taste is incredible—fresh, light, and briny, the fish melts the moment it touches your tongue.

“This is amazing,” you gush, savoring the flavor. You pick up another slice and hold it out to him. “Here, try it.”

He eyes the piece in your hand and glares at you. “I have hands. I can feed myself.”

Unbothered, you shrug and pop it into your mouth instead, grinning at the flavorful taste of fresh fish in your mouth. Meanwhile, Minho mixes the fish slices with the rice, adding a dollop of red chili paste and a drizzle of sesame oil. He stirs it all together with practiced ease before handing you a portion.

“Here. Your breakfast,” he says, his tone casual but expectant.

You take a bite, and your eyes widen. The dish is unbelievably good—simple yet bursting with flavor. “This is… exceptional. How is something so basic this good?”

Minho smirks, clearly pleased with your reaction but says nothing, turning his attention back to the fish.

As you finish the rice, you’re about to toss the fish bones and scraps into the trash, but Minho stops you. “What are you doing? Those aren’t trash.”

He grills the remaining pieces over a small fire, the aroma wafting through the crisp morning air. Together, the two of you sit by the water, sharing the grilled fish while the warm sun rises over the horizon. The view of the sea, paired with the comforting meal, makes everything feel oddly perfect.

Minho leans back, crossing his arms with a smug expression. “There. I just served you a full-course meal.”

You chuckle, nudging his arm. “Thank you, Chef. That was honestly amazing.”

Minho doesn’t respond, but there’s a softness in his gaze that wasn’t there before. Deep down, as you sit together, you can’t help but feel a quiet contentment—like, for this moment, everything is exactly as it should be.

The car hums softly as Minho drives, the early morning sun casting a warm glow over the horizon. You lean back against the seat, feeling the calm after the morning at the harbor. Your phone suddenly buzzes, the screen lighting up with an unknown number. You hesitate but decide to answer it, just in case it’s important.

“Hello?” you say cautiously.

“Hey,” Chris’s familiar voice immediately puts you at ease. “Just checking in to see how things are going with the preparations for the new menu.”

You smirk, unable to resist teasing. “Oh, everything’s going great. I’m actually at the seaside, having fun.”

Chris laughs, though there’s a knowing edge to it. “You’re not fooling me. Let me guess—you’re out there to get fresh ingredients for the new menu?”

“You’re to blame for this. You’re the one who set the budget for the ingredients so low.” You admit with a chuckle.

Chris laughs again, the sound warm and light. “Fair enough. Did you go by yourself?”

You hesitate, your gaze shifting to Minho, who keeps his eyes on the road. After a brief pause, you answer, “No. Chef came with me.”

There’s a brief silence on the other end before Chris replies, his tone neutral but slightly amused. “Convenient. I was just about to call him to come to the restaurant anyway.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “Anything important?”

Chris brushes it off. “Nothing urgent. Just let him know. Drive safe, alright?”

“Will do,” you reply, and the line goes dead.

You lower your phone, glancing at Minho. “Chris wants to see you at the restaurant.”

Minho glances at you briefly before focusing back on the road. “Why?”

“No idea,” you admit, shrugging.

The car falls into a moment of silence before Minho breaks it. “You seem close with Chris.”

His tone is casual, but there’s an undercurrent of curiosity. You glance at him, surprised by the observation. “Well... We’ve known each other for a while.”

Minho’s expression doesn’t change, but his grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly. It’s clear he has more questions, but he doesn’t voice them.

When you arrive at your apartment building, Minho pulls up to the curb and puts the car in park. He turns to you, gesturing toward the box of fish in the backseat. “Take the fish with you. Don’t put it in the freezer. Keep it in the icebox.”

You nod, opening the door and reaching for the box. “Got it.”

Per Minho’s instruction, you carry the icebox into the building, your arms straining slightly under the weight. The elevator ride is uneventful, but your mind buzzes with thoughts of the morning at the harbor and Chris's phone call. When you step into your apartment, you’re startled to see boxes and bags scattered around the living room.

Sara looks up from where she’s unpacking a box by the couch, her expression turning sheepish. “Oh, you’re back! I’m so sorry about the mess. I know I said I’d move in tomorrow, but the movers came early, and I didn’t want to miss the chance…”

You wave her off, smiling. “It’s fine, really. Don’t worry about it.”

Sara visibly relaxes and glances at the icebox in your hands. “What’s that? Where have you been?”

“To the harbor,” you reply, setting the box down on the kitchen counter. “Had to get fresh ingredients for the new menu.”

Curiosity sparks in her eyes as she walks over. “Can I see?”

You flip open the lid of the icebox, revealing an array of freshly caught filefish. Sara gasps, leaning in to inspect the contents. “Wow, that’s a lot of fish! Are all of these yours?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not just mine. Some of them are chef’s.”

At that, Sara’s gaze snaps to you, surprise flashing across her face. “You went to the harbor with Minho?”

“Yeah,” you say casually, closing the lid. “It was for the new menu, so we had to split the cost.”

Sara raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Interesting.”

You roll your eyes at her expression but decide to let it slide. Before you can say anything else, Sara places a hand on your shoulder. “You should get some rest. You must be exhausted after the trip.”

You sigh, realizing how heavy your limbs feel now that she’s mentioned it. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”

“Good,” Sara says with a smile. “I’ll finish unpacking quietly, don’t worry.”

You nod and head toward your room, leaving the icebox on the counter for later. As you close the door behind you, the events of the day replay in your mind, making it hard to decide what to focus on—Chris’s call, the morning at the harbor, or now that you've officially in between Sara and Minho, literally and figuratively.

Minho strides into the restaurant, his expression set in a familiar scowl. It’s quiet this early in the day, with no staff bustling like usual. He heads toward the coffee station and finds Chris already there, calmly preparing a cup of coffee.

“You’re here,” Chris greets, glancing at Minho as he places a cup under the espresso machine. “Sit down. I’ll make you a coffee, chef.”

Minho hesitates but eventually drops into the chair across from Chris, his arms crossed. He watches as Chris works efficiently, his movements smooth and unhurried. The quiet confidence in Chris’s demeanor rubs Minho the wrong way, frustrating him further.

Minho’s fingers tap against the table, breaking the silence. “I’ll be honest—I wouldn’t have taken this job if you were the one who offered it to me.”

Chris smirks faintly as he places a steaming cup of coffee in front of Minho. He them takes the opposite seat, his expression unchanging. “That’s funny because I wouldn’t have offered it to you.”

Minho blinks, slightly taken aback. “Huh?”

Chris leans back, resting his elbows on the chair's armrests. “You’re talented, no doubt. But I knew you’d be... difficult. Still, we’re here now, working together, so let’s just do our best.”

Chris offers his hand, a gesture of truce. Minho eyes it warily before finally grasping it for a firm shake. “Fine. But don’t think this means we’re friends.”

Chris chuckles lightly and pulls his hand back. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Chris shifts the conversation. “How was the harbor trip? Did you get the ingredients you needed?”

Minho nods, the memory of the fresh fish he brought back crossing his mind. “I did. The quality is excellent. I’m confident about the competition.”

Chris raises a brow, impressed. “Since you have good ingredients and confidence, you are exempt from the contest. Tomorrow, there's a charity dinner at W hotel. We've been invited to participate.”

Minho tilts his head and narrows his eyes at him. “Whether it is to compete or work or cook, you're telling that I have to follow your orders without complaints?”

Chris puts on a faint smile and takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. “I know it's a charity dinner but all the participating chefs are from 5-star hotels and the winner is decided by who sold the most plates. This is a competition on who has the most confidence that they made the best dish which also makes it a good opportunity to boost Farfalle’s reputation.”

Minho leans back, considering it. He knows the importance of publicity for the restaurant, but the idea of being pushed into the spotlight annoys him. Still, he nods. “For the sake of the restaurant, I’ll do it.”

Chris smiles approvingly. “Glad to hear it.”

Minho starts to rise, thinking the conversation is over, but Chris stops him. “One more thing.”

“What now?” Minho asks, irritation creeping into his voice.

“Chef Sara wants to compete with her version of the new menu,” Chris says casually, as though it’s no big deal.

Minho groans, leaning forward. “Why? The kitchen doesn’t need unnecessary competition.”

Chris shrugs. “You’re confident in your cooking, right? Then you shouldn’t be worried about it.”

Minho narrows his eyes. He finally sees Chris’s management style clearly—it’s about pushing boundaries, challenging people, and doing whatever he thinks will benefit the restaurant, no matter how it ruffles feathers.

“You’re something else,” Minho mutters as he stands. He gives him a long look before turning toward the door. “Do whatever you want. It’s your restaurant after all.”

Minho was having a great day until he met Chris but his day takes another downturn when he spots Sara walking towards her car. It takes a second for her to notice him back, her face lighting up with a smile that only irritates him further.

“Minho,” she greets cheerfully. “I’m looking forward to seeing your new dish tomorrow.”

Minho halts in his tracks, crossing his arms as he levels her with a sharp gaze. “Don’t get your hopes up. You’re no match for me.”

Sara’s smile doesn’t falter, her confidence unwavering. “We’ll see about that. I’ve been waiting a long time to cook with you again.”

He scoffs, narrowing his eyes at her. “You haven’t changed a bit. You still think cooking is all about competition.”

Sara tilts her head, an air of calm defiance surrounding her. “Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t. You’ll see soon enough.”

She turns to leave, but Minho isn’t finished. A realization strikes him, and he pivots on his heel, his voice cutting through the quiet. “It won’t be as easy as you think. You’ll have to beat her first.”

Sara stops, glancing over her shoulder with a raised brow. “Her? Who?”

“You know exactly who I mean,” Minho says, his voice laced with confidence. “If you think you can win against her, go ahead and try.”

Sara chuckles softly, shaking her head. “Are you saying that I'll be losing to a junior cook? Don’t make me laugh, Minho.”

Minho steps closer, a devilish smirk playing on his lips as he says, “Cooking is unpredictable. That’s what makes it fun, don't you think?”

Her expression stiffens for a moment, but she quickly regains her composure. “You’d better prepare for tomorrow. I won’t hold back.”

Minho’s smirk deepens as he leans in slightly. “I can’t wait to see your face when you lose to her.”

Without another word, he turns and strides toward the elevator, leaving Sara standing by her car, her calm exterior showing a faint crack.

As Minho steps into the elevator, a renewed determination fuels him. He’s not about to let Sara’s arrogance go unchallenged. If she underestimates you, she’ll regret it.

The elevator dings, signaling his arrival at his floor. He wastes no time heading straight to your apartment, his steps quick and purposeful. He presses the doorbell, and when you open the door, slightly confused by his sudden appearance, he doesn’t waste a second.

“Grab the ice box,” he orders firmly.

You blink at him, taken aback. “What? Why?”

“No time for questions,” he says, already turning on his heel. “Bring it and follow me.”

Reluctantly, you do as he says, hauling the ice box and trailing after him down the hallway. He leads you to his apartment, opening the door and gesturing for you to step inside.

“What’s going on?” you ask, still confused.

Minho’s eyes glint with determination as he shuts the door behind you. “We’re working on your recipe. You’re going to win tomorrow.”

Stepping into Minho’s apartment for the first time, you’re momentarily distracted by its minimalistic design and subtle charm. But before you can properly take it in, Minho pulls you toward the kitchen, his grip firm on your wrist.

“Put the ice box there,” he commands, gesturing toward the counter.

You do as he says, placing it down gently. Turning to face him, you wait for whatever instructions he’s about to give. Minho stands across from you, his expression unreadable as his sharp eyes study you in silence.

“What?” you ask nervously, breaking the stillness.

He finally speaks, his voice as cold as his gaze. “You need to have the determination to beat me.”

You blink, confused, and let out a nervous chuckle. “Beat you? That’s impossible.”

His face doesn’t change. The coldness remains, and your chuckle falters. “Wait... you’re serious?”

“Yes,” Minho replies flatly. “How can you even hope to compete if you don’t believe you can win?”

“But it’s you,” you mumble, still baffled. “How can I beat you?”

He interrupts, taking a step closer. The gap between you shrinks, and your breath catches as his piercing gaze locks onto yours. “How do you plan to be a chef without a competitive spirit?”

The intensity of his question and proximity make you look down, overwhelmed. Before you can respond, you feel his hands grip your shoulders, firm and commanding. His voice rises, filled with frustration and urgency.

“I can do it. Posso farcela!” he shouts, his eyes blazing with an almost contagious fire.

You blink at him, unsure of what he’s trying to do. “What does that even—”

“Say it,” Minho insists, shaking your shoulders slightly. “Everyone has their shining moment. Even you. But only if you believe it. Posso farcela!”

Without waiting for your consent, he leans in until his forehead presses firmly against yours. The sudden closeness sends a shiver through you, and your heart races. With Minho, you can’t really tell if you should be scared or excited by the proximity. His voice softens but remains commanding. “Say it.”

Hesitating, you whisper, “Posso farcela.”

“Louder!” he demands, his grip tightening.

“Posso farcela!” you shout at the top of your lungs.

Finally, Minho steps back, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He releases your shoulders and nods. You’re still catching your breath when he turns to the counter, pulling out ingredients and utensils. “You’re staying here tonight,” he announces matter-of-factly.

“Wait, what?”

“You heard me,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re practicing all night. Don’t even think about going home.”

A chill runs down your spine—not just from his words, but from the realization that you’ll be cooking with him all night. Somehow, this is far from how you ever imagined spending the night at his apartment.

The warm lights of Minho’s kitchen illuminate the room as the two of you work side by side. You’re focused on molding the fish mixture into small, round balls, while Minho is pan-searing fish liver with precision. The sizzle of the pan fills the silence between you, and the savory aroma teases your senses.

Every now and then, you find yourself glancing at Minho. There’s something hypnotic about the way he moves—the effortless way he tilts the pan without spilling, the fluidity of his knife work, the sharp focus in his gaze as he perfects every detail. Even in casual clothing, Minho radiates charisma. His dark sweater hugs his frame, accentuating his broad shoulders, while his rolled-up sleeves reveal veined forearms that flex with every movement.

Your admiration is cut short as Minho suddenly turns toward you, his sharp eyes locking onto your work. Without a word, he strides over and pokes one of your molded fishballs with his finger. It crumbles immediately.

His glare pierces you. “It’s too crumbly,” he states coldly. “Do it again.”

You nod meekly, murmuring, “Yes, Chef,” and begin adjusting the mixture.

Moments later, he scolds you again. “Why are these so small? They’ll fall apart when you fry them. Do it again.”

You gulp and obey, reforming the fishballs to a larger size.

It doesn’t take long before you’re on the receiving end of another critique. “You’re frying them wrong,” Minho snaps, stepping in to demonstrate. He moves with efficiency, ensuring the fishballs are evenly browned and perfectly cooked. Watching him, you can’t help but feel inadequate but also in awe of his skill.

Finally, the first batch is done, and you nervously wait as Minho takes a bite. Your stomach sinks as he spits it out into the sink almost immediately.

“This is terrible,” he says bluntly, glaring at you. “Too much egg and breadcrumbs. I can’t even tell if it’s made from fish or chicken.” His tone sharpens.

“What was the point of driving all the way to the seaside if this is what you’re going to make? Do it again.”

You nod quickly, muttering another shaky “Yes, Chef,” and get back to work.

After a couple more failed attempts, you finally feel a sliver of hope. You’ve followed every piece of advice Minho has given, and this batch feels like your best yet. But the hope is short-lived as Minho spits it out once more, his glare now blazing.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he barks, holding up a small piece of fishbone he found in his bite. “You left a bone in it!”

You freeze, guilt and embarrassment washing over you.

“What are you standing there for?” he snaps, crossing his arms. “Get back to the kitchen and do it again.”

Minho leaves the kitchen, your eyes following him taking his coat and puts it on. He turns to you as he informs,

“I’m going out, and when I get back, I expect you to have this perfected.”

With that, Minho storms out, leaving the apartment in silence. You let out a long, shaky breath the moment the door closes. Setting down your utensils, you wander into the living room and collapse onto the sofa, burying your face in your hands. Exhaustion weighs on you like a heavy blanket, and frustration simmers beneath the surface.

The silence in Minho’s apartment is deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the refrigerator. Exhausted and at your wit's end, you pull your phone from your pocket and stare at the screen, debating whether to make the call. It’s ridiculously early, but if there’s anyone who can help you, it’s your dad. After all, he’s been running his bakery for as long as you can remember, and you know he’s probably already in the kitchen preparing the first batch of bread.

You dial his number, pacing anxiously as the phone rings.

“Hello?” your father answers, his voice slightly groggy but steady.

“Dad,” you say in a rush, “I regret going to culinary school. This was the worst decision I ever made.”

There’s a pause before your father sighs heavily. “I told you this would happen. Cooking isn’t just some romantic idea—you need grit and perseverance, and clearly, you don’t have enough of either.”

His words sting, but you expected nothing less.

“Why are you calling me so early, huh? Shouldn’t you be sleeping off your regrets?”

You groan, leaning against the counter. “I need help. I’m working on this recipe, and I can’t get the chewy texture I need for fishballs. I’ve tried everything, but nothing works!”

Your father grumbles something under his breath before asking, “Alright, what are you putting in the mixture?”

You quickly list off the ingredients, your voice rapid and desperate.

“Are you using potato starch?” he interrupts.

“Yes,” you reply, blinking.

“Check it,” he orders. “Make sure it’s 100 percent potato starch.”

His words give you pause, and you dash to the kitchen, grabbing the package of potato starch from the counter. You scan the label, your stomach sinking as you read: 92 percent potato starch.

“Dad,” you say, your voice small, “it’s only 92 percent.”

“Unbelievable!” your father exclaims. “How do you expect to get the texture you want if it’s not 100 percent? You’re sabotaging yourself! Go and get proper potato starch!”

“But—”

“No buts! You’re wasting your time otherwise. Fix it.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

“Thanks, Dad,” you mutter before hanging up. You stare at the package in your hand, a newfound determination building in your chest. You don’t know when Minho will be back, but you’re certain of one thing: you’re going to perfect this recipe before he walks through that door.

You take a deep breath, head back to the kitchen, and prepare to start over—this time with the right approach.

The sun is beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over the city as you step out of Minho’s apartment. The cool morning air brushes against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the kitchen where you’ve spent the entire night. You’ve left your dish on his dining table, hoping it meets his impossible standards, and now you’re longing for a moment of peace.

When you arrive at your own apartment, you’re met with the sight of chaos in the kitchen—ingredients scattered, utensils abandoned mid-use, and remnants of Sara’s late-night preparations everywhere.

Your eyes move to the couch, where Sara is curled up, her head resting on her arm. The sound of your footsteps stirs her awake, and she looks at you groggily.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you say, feeling a bit guilty.

Sara stretches and shakes her head, offering a small smile. “It’s okay. I was about to get up anyway.”

Feeling a pang of sympathy, you ask, “Would you like some coffee? I could use a cup myself.”

Her smile widens, and she nods. “That would be nice.”

A few minutes later, the two of you sit together in the living room, cradling mugs of freshly brewed coffee. The morning is quiet, save for the faint hum of the city waking up outside.

You glance toward the kitchen, breaking the silence. “You must’ve been busy prepping for your TV program.”

Sara doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she takes a sip of her coffee and then looks at you with a faintly amused expression. “Were you at Minho’s place all night?”

Her question catches you off guard, and you pause mid-sip. You're aware that Sara knows more than she lets on. You sigh, nodding in acknowledgment.

“Have you tried his new dish?”

You shake your head. “Hardly.”

“He's like that. He won't let anyone taste it until it's perfect.” Sara softly smiles as she says it as if she's reminiscing something.

“Must've been fun though,” she adds with genuine envy in her eyes.

You scoff at that and cradle your cup of coffee in both hands. “Fun? I got scolded all night.”

Sara chuckles softly, her gaze distant. “Still, cooking with someone else is always less tiring. And it's more fun.”

Her words hang in the air, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s more meaning behind them. Does she miss cooking with Minho? Since she won the contest, there are two possibilities: It's either she gives the recipe to the restaurant or she's taking the responsibility of this dish herself in the kitchen. Honestly, you can’t imagine the latter. Having two chefs in one kitchen is one thing but two chefs who shared a complicated past? That's a recipe for disaster.

You shake the thought away, deciding it’s not your place to dig deeper into their shared history. Draining the last of your coffee, you stand and offer her a small smile. “I should get some rest before the contest. Good luck with your cooking today.”

She looks up at you, her smile soft. “You too.”

The familiar sounds of clattering pans and bubbling pots fill the air as you step into the bustling kitchen. For the first time in a while, you feel an odd sense of comfort here—like you’ve missed this chaos, missed the kitchen itself. Looking around, it’s clear that everyone else feels the same. The team looks rejuvenated from their break, their energy palpable as they chatter excitedly about the upcoming contest.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Felix bounding into the room, his face glowing with excitement. His freckles seem brighter than usual, standing out against his sun-kissed skin.

“Someone’s been having fun,” you tease, smiling as he joins you at your station. “Where’d you go?”

Felix grins, his boyish charm making it impossible not to smile back. “Oh, just somewhere fun,” he replies cryptically, his eyes twinkling.

You roll your eyes but let it slide. “Are you ready for the contest?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a confident nod, and you hold out your fist. He meets it with a firm bump, a gesture of mutual encouragement.

The room falls quiet as Chris enters, his demeanor as calm and collected as ever, his enigmatic smile adding an edge to his presence. “Alright, everyone,” he announces, his voice cutting through the silence. “You may begin cooking your new menu items. Good luck.”

You glance around the kitchen as everyone springs into action, but one thing—or rather, one person—is missing. Minho.

“Where’s Minho?” you ask Felix, lowering your voice so as not to draw attention.

Felix shrugs, his expression unbothered. “Probably using the other kitchen. It’s pretty packed in here.”

His explanation makes sense, but a small pang of unease lingers. You shake it off and refocus on your task. You’ve come too far and worked too hard to let anything distract you now.

As you begin preparing your dish, the words Minho drilled into you all night echo in your mind: “Posso farcela!”

You whisper the phrase to yourself, almost as a mantra, channeling it into every movement. Confidence surges through you as you remind yourself why you’re here—to create something incredible and to prove, most of all to yourself, that you can do this.

The dining hall buzzes with energy as chefs carry their meticulously prepared dishes to the tables for judging. You’re no different, your dish carefully balanced in your hands, though a nagging thought occupies your mind: Where is Minho?

You’re not the only one wondering. Whispered speculations ripple through the room, the tension thick in the air. The door opens, and your heart leaps with hope, expecting Minho to stride in after Chris. Instead, your breath catches in your throat.

It’s not Minho. It’s Chef Sara.

Her poised figure glides into the room, her sharp gaze scanning the crowd before briefly landing on you. You offer her a hurried, polite smile, masking your shock and the storm of questions swirling in your mind. Why is she here?

She doesn’t need this contest. She’s already at the pinnacle of her career—a celebrated chef with a regular TV program, several bestselling cookbooks, and fame most chefs only dream of. So why?

The answer flickers at the edges of your mind, but you refuse to acknowledge it. Chris claps his hands, pulling everyone’s attention to the front. His calm, commanding presence stills the murmurs in the room.

“I have something to inform you before we begin,” he begins, his voice steady, “unfortunately, Chef Lee will not be joining us today due to special circumstances.”

You blink, the news hitting harder than you expect. Your stomach sinks as you try to imagine what could have kept Minho away.

“But,” Chris continues smoothly, “Chef Sara will be stepping in to compete instead.”

A ripple of surprise sweeps through the room. You’re no exception, your mind reeling as you watch Sara move to her station with a confidence that makes her presence feel larger than life.

Chris doesn’t leave room for more speculation. “Let me explain how the contest will proceed.”

He goes on to detail the rules. The first round involves the service staff tasting and voting for the three best dishes to move on. In the second round, fifty selected guests of Farfalle will taste the top three dishes and vote for the winner.

“The winning dish,” Chris says, his enigmatic smile returning, “will become the new main menu of Farfalle. The winning chef will not only oversee this dish in the kitchen but will also earn incentives from its sales.”

That last part immediately ignites a spark in the room. Chefs exchange glances, excitement crackling at the mention of money. You can’t help but smile, impressed by Chris’s ability to up the stakes and turn the contest into something electrifying.

Chris scans the room, his gaze settling briefly on you before moving on. “Good luck,” he says simply.

And with that, the contest begins.

The second round feels surreal. Though you expected to make it this far, the reality of going up against Chef Sara and Sous Chef Seojun feels daunting. You’re torn between pride and the sinking pressure of the competition.

From the second floor of the dining hall, you lean against the railing, watching as the selected guests taste the dishes below. Your nerves flutter, every movement of the tasters amplified in your mind.

Lost in thought, you barely notice Sara standing beside you until she speaks.

“You must’ve been surprised to see me here,” she says softly, her tone almost apologetic.

You glance at her, offering a polite smile. “Just a little.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she explains, her gaze sincere.

You shake your head. “I’m not uncomfortable at all. Honestly… I’m no match for you anyway.”

Sara chuckles, but her expression turns serious. “You’d be surprised. I’m actually nervous because of you.”

Her words catch you off guard, and you laugh, assuming she’s trying to lift your spirits. “Sure, Chef. Nice try.”

“I’m serious,” she insists, her eyes unwavering.

Your smile falters slightly, a flicker of gratitude warming your chest. “I’m just glad I made it to the second round,” you admit, brushing off her words even as they linger in your mind.

Sara gives you an encouraging nod before stepping away. As you head back toward the kitchen, your phone buzzes. You fish it out of your pocket, your heart skipping a beat when you see Minho’s name.

“Posso farcela!”

A second message follows almost immediately.

“I’ll be there soon. Posso farcela!”

A smile tugs at your lips before you realize Chris is nearby, watching you with an amused expression. You quickly shove your phone back into your pocket, your cheeks warming under his gaze.

“What’s with that look?” Chris teases.

“Nothing!” you protest, flustered.

Chris smirks, his sharp pinstripe suit somehow making him look even more teasingly intimidating. The tailored fit accentuates his broad shoulders and lean frame, making it hard not to admire him. But nothing is as charming as his dimpled smile as he aims it towards you.

“Looking sharp,” you comment, trying to deflect.

He raises an eyebrow as he pulls a hand out of his slacks pocket. “Complimenting me won’t help you win.”

You chuckle and start walking toward the kitchen. “But it’s worth a shot.”

Chris steps closer, his tone light but curious. “Do you think you’ll win?”

“I have to be confident,” you reply with a shrug. “Besides, I’ve got nothing to lose.”

He nudges your shoulder playfully. “Well, if you do win, you owe me dinner.”

The warmth of his words makes your chest tighten in a good way. He actually has faith in you and he makes it sounds possible for you to win the contest.

“Deal,” you say, smiling.

He stops on his track and grabs your shoulder. Swiftly, he turns your body to the side, making you face him. He leans closer, his brown eyes softly gazing into your eyes. “Don't tell anyone but I'm rooting for you.” He whispers, not wanting everyone else to hear that he's biased.

You smile in genuine gratitude. “Thanks, Chris.”

As Chris walks away, you take a deep breath, feeling a renewed sense of determination. With encouragement from both Minho and Chris, you can’t afford to let your nerves get the better of you now.

Anticipation filled the dining hall as everyone gathers one last time for the night. The air is electric with nervous excitement, and you feel the weight of the moment settling in your chest. You tell yourself not to get your hopes up, but the thought of impressing Minho lingers, making your heart race.

Chris steps into the room, his confident stride and easy smile drawing everyone's attention. "Thank you all for your hard work on this new menu," he begins, his tone warm and genuine.

Without much preamble, he announces, "The two popular dishes from tonight are… the fishball pasta and Chef Sara’s triple-flavored pasta."

Your breath catches, a small spark of hope igniting within you. As expected, you made it this far. Maybe Minho’s mantra really did work wonders. You glance at Sous Chef Seojun, who wears a strained expression. Noticing his disappointment, you gently pat his shoulder and offer him an encouraging smile.

The room quiets as the door opens, and Minho strides in, his presence commanding instant attention. He surveys the room briefly before focusing on Chris, who grins and announces, "Chef Lee will be our tiebreaker tonight. I believe he’s the most unbiased person for the job."

Minho raises an eyebrow but nods, accepting the role without complaint. He takes his seat at the head of the table, signaling you and Chef Sara to bring your dishes forward.

You carefully place your plate in front of him, trying to keep your hands steady. Chef Sara does the same, her usual poise shining through. Stepping back, you wait as Minho begins tasting the dishes.

You can’t stop yourself from nervously playing with the edge of your apron as Minho takes a deliberate bite of your pasta. His expression is unreadable, his focus entirely on the food. He moves on to Chef Sara’s pasta, taking his time with each bite.

Finally, Minho sets his fork down and rises from his seat, commanding the room’s attention. He looks at you first, his gaze steady and thoughtful.

He calls your name first, his tone softer than usual. "You’ve done a good job."

A smile creeps onto your face, unbidden but genuine. Coming from Minho, that acknowledgment feels like a win in itself.

"You managed to maintain the sweetness and softness of the fish very well," he continues, his voice measured. "I noticed you used the least amount of eggs and breadcrumbs in your batter, which is commendable. It shows skill."

You bask in his words for a brief moment before he shifts his focus to Chef Sara.

"Chef Sara," Minho begins, his tone shifting to one of professional admiration. "Your dish is intriguing—a ravioli with a mysterious filling and a combination of two sauces that could have been disastrous. But you balanced it beautifully. I’m genuinely impressed."

Chef Sara beams at his praise, thanking him warmly.

Minho pauses, his gaze sweeping the room. "Cooking," he says, "is more than just technique. It’s dynamic. It should seduce whoever is holding the fork and knife."

He turns back to you, his expression gentle but firm. "Your dish is good, but it lacks that seduction. It doesn’t quite pull the diner in the way it should."

Your smile falters ever so slightly, the sting of his words hitting harder than you expected.

Chris breaks the momentary silence by asking, "So, does that mean Chef Sara wins?"

Minho nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yes. The winner is Chef Sara."

The room erupts in applause as Chef Sara steps forward, her confidence radiating as she graciously accepts the title. You force a smile, clapping along with the others.

"Congratulations," you manage to say to her, your voice steady despite the pang of disappointment in your chest.

Sara thanks you with a warm smile, her sincerity softening the moment. As the night winds down, you remind yourself that second place is still an accomplishment. But deep down, you can’t shake the lingering ache of wanting more—not just for yourself, but to make Minho proud.

Minho sits in Chris’s office, his arms crossed as he waits with thinly veiled impatience. He checks the clock on the wall, nearly rolling his eyes as the door finally swings open. Chris enters first, his usual air of ease intact, followed closely by Chef Sara.

Sara takes the chair across from Minho without hesitation, her posture relaxed but alert. Chris leans casually against his desk, his eyes flicking between the two.

“Well,” Chris begins, clapping his hands together, “since Chef Lee chose the Triple-flavored Pasta, I thought it’d be a good idea for the two of you to discuss the details—preparation, launch timeline, all that fun stuff. Once you’ve reached a decision, let me know.”

Minho barely acknowledges Chris’s words, instead leveling him with a pointed look. “Can we have some privacy?”

Chris raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. “Sure,” he says simply, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. “Play nice.” He closes the door behind him, leaving the room weighted with tension.

Minho leans back slightly, his gaze cold and calculating as it settles on Sara. “Congratulations,” he says, the chill in his tone making it sound more like an obligation than genuine praise. “Now, let’s get straight to the point. I’ll need your recipe for the kitchen.”

Sara doesn’t flinch under his scrutiny. “No,” she says flatly.

Minho’s eyes narrow. “No?”

“That’s right,” she replies, her tone calm but firm. “I’m not giving my recipe to the kitchen.”

Minho leans forward slightly, the air around him growing sharper. “Are you suggesting you plan to come here and prepare the dish yourself?”

Sara meets his gaze without hesitation. “Why not?” she counters. “I can’t do that?”

A scoff escapes Minho’s lips, followed by a malicious smirk. “You’re delusional if you think I’ll let that happen.”

Sara crosses her arms, unfazed. “It’s my privilege as the contest winner. You knew that when you chose my dish—or did you misunderstand?”

The smirk on Minho’s face falters, replaced by a flicker of irritation. “You have other places you can go,” he says, his tone clipped. “Places you can pick and choose at your leisure. You don’t have to be here.”

Sara smiles, calm and deliberate. “But I like it here.”

Minho’s frustration bubbles over, his voice lowering dangerously. “Let me remind you of one thing: I didn’t choose your dish because you’re welcomed in my kitchen.”

Sara’s smile doesn’t waver. “And let me remind you,” she says, her voice steady and unwavering, “that if you want my recipe, you’ll have to accept me in your kitchen first.”

The room grows silent as their gazes lock, a battle of wills unfolding with neither showing any sign of backing down. The air between them is charged, the tension so thick it feels almost tangible.

It’s a stalemate, and for now, neither of them is willing to yield.

You move through the locker room like a machine, your mind distant as your hands go through the motions of changing. Shrugging into your jacket, you’re startled when Felix suddenly appears, leaning casually against the locker beside yours.

His eyes study you, his easygoing demeanor not quite masking his concern. He crosses his arms together then lets out a sigh. “How cheeky of Sara to just waltz in and steal first place like that.”

A small smile tugs at your lips of Felix’s effort to cheer you up, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I didn’t really stand a chance anyway.”

Felix smirks knowingly, leaning closer. “Don’t act like you like her. We both know we don’t like her, and neither does Minho.”

You snap your locker shut, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “If Minho hates her so much, why did he choose her as the winner?”

Felix falters, clearly caught off guard by the question. He opens his mouth as if to reply but stops, unable to come up with an answer.

You smile faintly, brushing past him. “Night, Felix.”

Leaving the locker room, you head toward the restaurant’s exit, your footsteps heavy with exhaustion. Just as you near the door, Chris’s familiar figure comes into view, his signature dimpled smile lighting up his face as he falls into step beside you.

“Where are you taking me for dinner?” he asks, his tone playful.

You blink at him, puzzled. “I didn’t win, remember?”

Chris’s grin widens as if he’s caught you in a trap. “Second place is still a win,” he counters smoothly. “And you promised me dinner, didn’t you?”

You let out a soft laugh, unable to argue against his infallible logic—or his charm. His gaze is warm, his smile unwavering as he looks at you, and for a moment, the disappointment from earlier feels like a distant memory.

“Fine,” you say, relenting with a smile of your own. “But I get to choose where we’re going.”

Chris nods eagerly, his dimples deepening. “Deal.”

Without warning, he gently takes your hand, leading you toward the parking area. His touch is light, but his presence is grounding, and you feel your mood lifting with every step.

Maybe a night out with Chris is exactly what you need to forget the tension of the contest—even if just for a little while.

It’s only been a minute but Chris is already struggling. His low groans and muttered complaints don’t go unnoticed as you glance over at him. His forehead glistens with a sheen of sweat, his ears glow red, and his flushed face and neck betray the battle he’s having with the bowl of spicy noodles—the same dish you’re enjoying without much trouble.

Putting down your chopsticks, you frown. “Chris, stop eating it. You’re suffering.”

Despite his clear discomfort, he shakes his head and stubbornly takes another bite. “It’s spicy, but it tastes good,” he says, though his voice is strained.

You sigh, getting up from your chair and heading to the fridge to grab a bottle of cold water. Returning to the table, you uncap it for him and pull the bowl away from his reach.

“Enough,” you insist, placing the water in front of him.

Finally conceding, Chris gulps down the water in relief, though it’s obvious it does little to soothe the fire in his mouth. Between sips, he glares at you. “Why on earth did you choose spicy noodles?”

You chuckle, finding his over-the-top reaction amusing. “You’ll live,” you tease, but his scolding continues.

“This isn’t funny!” he protests, still drinking water. “Do people eat this? Why would you eat this?”

Your laughter bubbles over, the tension of the day dissolving for the first time. Seeing your mirth, Chris glares again, but a small smile threatens to break through his stern expression.

As a way to make up for the "dinner disaster," you grab some milk and ice cream from a nearby store. The two of you sit on a bench outside, sharing the treats. Chris chugs from the carton of milk, sighing in relief as the burn finally starts to fade.

He side-eyes you, mock accusation clear in his tone. “Were you trying to kill me or something?”

Rolling your eyes, you open a pack of ice cream and offer it to him. “Stop being so dramatic.”

Chris takes it with a begrudging smile, the two of you settling into a companionable silence as you enjoy the sweet relief against the chilly late-winter air.

Your phone rings, breaking the moment. Glancing at the screen, you see Minho’s name flashing. Without a second thought, you hit “Reject” and shove the phone back into your pocket.

Chris raises a brow. “Not going to answer that?”

“Not now,” you reply, shrugging. “I’ll call back when I feel better.”

He sense that your mood hasn't changed much but he doesn’t push, instead offering a comforting smile. “You know, second place isn’t bad. You should be proud of yourself.”

It’s not about losing to Sara, though, but what her win represents. Still, you keep that to yourself, simply nodding. “You’re right. I feel good and happy about it.”

Chris grins, leaning in slightly. “You should. I saw everything tonight, and you were incredible. Even if you didn’t win, your cooking? Amazing. Remember what I said the first time I tasted your cooking?”

You laugh, recalling his words. “How could I forget? You said it was better than sex.”

Chris leans closer, his tone teasing. “Tasted it again today. Still better than sex.”

You burst out laughing. “Now I doubt that you ever had sex at all?”

He scoffs, feigning offense. “Excuse me? Not only am I rich, but I’m also attractive and popular.”

You roll your eyes and decide to tease him. “All that, and yet you can’t handle spicy food.”

Chris smirks, throwing an arm around your shoulder and roughly pulling you close. “You’re lucky I like you,” he says, squeezing you gently in mock revenge.

You giggle, squirming slightly in his hold, but his grip softens after a moment. His hand rubs soothingly up and down your arm, and the warmth of his touch is comforting. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you let out a content sigh as he pats your head softly, murmuring, “You did well. You really did.”

For a while, you sit like that, the peaceful night wrapping around the two of you. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot a stall selling fish-shaped breads down the street.

“Fish-shaped breads!” you exclaim, suddenly energized. Before Chris can respond, you’re already sprinting toward the stall, leaving him laughing in your wake.

The drive back is quiet, save for the soft hum of the radio and the occasional sound of Chris drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. You glance at him, noting the content smile on his face, and feel your own mood lift.

As the car comes to a stop in front of your place, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to him. “Thanks for tonight, Chris. I really needed this.”

Chris looks at you, his eyes soft under the dim glow of the streetlights. “Thank you for the most memorable dinner I’ve ever had.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Most memorable, huh? You mean the spicy noodles almost killed you.”

He grins, leaning back in his seat. “Exactly. Unforgettable.”

Reaching for the bag of fish-shaped breads you’ve been holding the entire ride, you hand it to him. “Here, I kept these warm for you. My apology for the spicy noodles fiasco.”

Chris accepts the bag, his smile widening as he peeks inside. “I’ll forgive you—this time.”

The two of you share a quiet laugh before leaning in for a quick hug. His arm wraps securely around your shoulders for a brief moment, the gesture warm and comforting.

Pulling away, you open the door and step out. Before closing it, you lean down to look at him one last time. “Goodnight, Chris.”

His dimpled smile returns as he waves. “Goodnight. Get some rest.”

You shut the door and watch as he drives away, the bag of fish-shaped breads still in his hand. Smiling to yourself, you turn and head inside, the warmth of the night’s memories still lingering.

Until your phone rings and you see that it's Minho calling you again.

Minho stares at his phone, the screen mocking him with yet another voicemail. He clenches his jaw, his patience thinning with each unanswered call. Unbelievable, he mutters in his head, tucking the phone back into his pocket. You always pick up but not tonight. Not after everything that happened today.

His frustration only grows as the elevator ascends to your apartment floor. He doesn’t know what he’d say when he sees you—maybe he’d scold you for ignoring him or demand an explanation. Something. Anything to ease the irritation gnawing at him.

When he reaches your door, he rings the bell, shifting impatiently on his feet. It opens after a beat, but instead of you, it's Sara standing there, her expression annoyingly serene.

Minho stiffens. Of course, it has to be her. He knows she lives on the building but didn’t know that she's sharing the apartment with you.

“Is she home?” he asks brusquely, cutting straight to the point.

Sara tilts her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “Not yet,” she replies, as if his irritation amuses her.

Minho turns to leave but stopped midway. He can’t resist. Not with her standing there, acting like she belongs here. Facing her again, he let the words spill out, each one sharper than the last.

“I chose your dish because it’s just like you—greedy. Three sauces in one dish, just like how you want everything. Love. Skill. Fame. You don’t know how to let go of anything, do you?”

To his disbelief, Sara smiles, her eyes sparkling as though he’s just given her a bouquet of compliments. “Thank you,” she says sweetly, her voice saccharine.

His jaw clenched, a scoff escaping his lips as he turns on his heel and walks away.

“Goodnight, Minho,” Sara shouts toward him before getting back into the apartment.

“Ridiculous,” he mutters to himself in disbelief.

As he nears his apartment, something—or rather, someone—catches his eye. There you are, standing a few feet away, watching him. His chest tightens, though he masks it with irritation.

“Where have you been?” he snaps, his voice harsher than intended.

You cross your arms, meeting his glare head-on. “I was out with Chris.”

Chris. The name alone sends a sharp sting of annoyance through him. “What’s going on between you and him?” he demands, stepping closer.

Your brow arches, and instead of answering, you deflect. “What’s going on between you and Sara?”

Minho scoffs, shaking his head. “There’s nothing going on.”

“Really?” you challenge. “Because it looks like you two are still very close.”

The audacity. Minho closes the distance between you and him, forcing you back away until you hit the door of his apartment. His voice drops, low and deliberate. “I’m closer to you now than with her.”

He watches as a smile threatens to tug at your lips, though you fight to suppress it. “How much closer?” you tease, your voice light but your eyes searching his.

Minho is conflicted. A part of him wants to just go ahead, do whatever he wants to do but another part of him, the most stubborn part of him, reminds him to stay put, sticks to the rules. However for a moment, he falters. The walls he’s so carefully built around himself trembles under your gaze. The rules he’s sworn to uphold, the distance he’s vowed to maintain—they all seemed insignificant now.

But he can’t. He shouldn’t.

“Get out of my way,” he says instead, his tone clipped as he steps back.

You pout, moving aside as he unlocks his door. He pushes it open, stepping inside. This is the right choice, he tells himself. The smart choice.

But then he glances back.

The sight of you standing there, the faint disappointment flickering in your eyes—it's enough to unravel him completely. Before he can stop himself, he reaches out, grabbing your hand and pulling you inside.

The door clicks shut, and without hesitation, he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is desperate, unrelenting, all the tension and frustration he’s bottled up pouring out in waves. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as every ounce of restraint dissolved.

Rules be damned. In this moment, you're all that mattered. Tonight, the stubborn part of him loses to his desire.

The moment Minho's lips find yours again, everything around you dissolves into nothingness. It's not just the way he kisses you—hungry, fervent, and impossibly deep—but the way his hands grip your waist with unrestrained need. Every movement, every touch, speaks volumes of just how much he’s been holding back.

When he finally pulls back, his chest heaving against yours, you barely have time to gasp for air before he sweeps you up effortlessly. Your arms wrap instinctively around his shoulders, your legs clinging to his hips as he carries you through the apartment. The kitchen counter greets your back, cold against the heat coursing through your body, as he sets you down and steps between your parted legs.

“This close,” He finally answers to your earlier question.

You hold his fiery gaze and breathlessly mutter, “Not close enough.”

The next kiss is even more desperate, more demanding. His hands work with an urgency that mirrors your own. You feel the tug of fabric as he pulls your jacket off and, with a sudden, heated impatience, rips open your shirt. The sound of buttons scattering echoes faintly in the room, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Minho's lips leave yours, dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to send shivers through your entire body. He pauses at your collarbone, his fingers toying with the strap of your bra, his touch both teasing and commanding.

You take your chance, your hands tugging at the hem of his sweater. In one swift motion, you lift it over his head, and the sight of his bare skin—taut, toned, and so undeniably Minho—makes your breath hitch.

Your fingers trace down his chest, feeling every dip and ridge of his muscles as you pull him closer. This time, it’s your turn to explore. You press your lips to his throat, savoring the taste of his skin, warm and slightly salty, mixed with something so distinctly him that it makes your head spin.

His hands slide to your hips, gripping you firmly as his lips return to yours, his kiss relentless. When he pulls away this time, his eyes lock onto yours, dark and filled with something raw, something electric.

He takes hold of your hair, his fingers tangling at the side of your head, and tugs just hard enough to tilt your neck to the side. The sensation makes you gasp, but the sound quickly turns into a quiet moan as his lips find your neck again. He nips at the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing and his tongue soothing in turns.

“Tell me,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “How much closer do you want me to be?”

Your gaze locks onto his, unflinching despite the fire coursing through you. “A lot closer,” you say, your voice steady, daring.

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smirk. Without another word, he hooks his arms under you, lifting you from the counter like you weigh nothing. Your legs tighten around him, your heart pounding as he carries you toward the bedroom.

Every step heightens your anticipation, your excitement surging as you wonder just how much closer the two of you can possibly get.

The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The air feels charged, every sound amplified—the rustle of the sheets, the faint hitch in your breath, the steady rhythm of Minho’s own.

You lie beside him, your naked body sinking into the mattress as his gaze locks onto yours, dark and unwavering. There’s an intensity in his eyes that makes your heart race, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Don’t look away,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. His hand trails up your arm, his touch featherlight, yet it leaves a trail of heat in its wake. “I want to see you.”

What he means by that is seeing every reaction you make as he explores your body. You swallow hard, nodding slightly, though the weight of his stare makes it hard to hold. His fingers trace the curve of your shoulder, sliding down to your collarbone and then lower, brushing against your skin with deliberate slowness.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he says again, his tone softer this time, almost coaxing. His hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his thumb pressing gently into your hip.

Your breathing quickens, your chest rising and falling as his hand continues its path, exploring with a mixture of reverence and possession. His touch is both soothing and electrifying, every movement sending shivers through you.

“That’s it. Stay with me,” he whispers, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smile.

His fingers brush against your jaw, tilting your face slightly, ensuring your eyes remain locked on his. The intimacy of it is almost overwhelming, the closeness between you leaving no room for anything else—no thoughts, no distractions, just him.

As his hand continues its slow, deliberate exploration, he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “I want you to feel everything,” he murmurs, his voice a promise, a command.

And you do. Every touch, every whispered word, every look—it’s all-consuming, a connection that feels deeper than anything you’ve ever known.

Minho’s hand slides down the curve of your waist, his fingers pressing just enough to remind you of his presence, of his control. He leans closer, his lips brushing against your temple, lingering there for a moment before trailing down to your cheek. His kisses are unhurried, deliberate, as if savoring every second.

“Still with me?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a velvet caress.

You nod, your gaze still locked with his, though your breathing comes in shallow, uneven waves.

“Good,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. His lips find the corner of yours, hovering there teasingly before capturing them in a kiss that starts gentle but deepens with each passing second.

His hand moves again, tracing the outline of your thigh, then sliding up to your heating core. He pauses there, his thumb making lazy circles on your bundle of nerves that send warmth coursing through you.

Breaking the kiss, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze again. “Don’t close your eyes,” he says softly, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I want to see you.”

You nod again, unable to find words, your heart pounding too loudly in your chest.

Minho dips his head, his lips finding the hollow of your throat. He presses a series of kisses there, each one slower and more purposeful than the last. His free hand moves upward, trailing across your ribcage, his touch igniting a fire beneath your skin.

When his lips return to yours, the kiss is hungrier, filled with a need that matches your own. His hand slides back to your lower back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

“Is this close enough?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky and sincere. His hand cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he leans in again, his kisses growing more fervent, more insistent.

You don't know if he's asking if you're close to your high or this is the closeness you demand from him. Your brain is struggling to function and time seems to blur, the world outside fading away until he takes you to your high and you soar onto cloud nine.

Minho’s lips hover near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Perfect,” he whispers, his voice low and intimate. His words are a soft admission, meant only for you, carrying a depth of emotion that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Minho grounds you to the bed, peppering your shoulder and neck with kisses to help you coming down from your high. After a while, he slowly turns you to lay on your side and you hear the ripping sound from behind you. You turn your head to see Minho tears open a condom with his teeth.

You hold the arm curving around you as he works on putting a layer of protection on before coming back to plant kisses on your flushed skin again.

He grabs your chin, turning your head toward him so he can capture your lips in a kiss. His other hand grabs your leg by the back of your thigh and slowly, he lifts it just enough to make space for him to enter you from behind.

A crease formed between his eyebrows as he begins pushing his length, his teeth faintly biting his lower lip and his hand keeping your knee up. His fingers start to dug into the flesh as he launches the rest of his length until it's fully sheathed inside you.

Your gasp spill into his mouth and Minho crashes his lips onto yours again. In the dimly lit room, he holds you close as he moves in steady, slow motions. You hear nothing but the rustle of the sheets beneath you and your shared breathing, endlessly echoing in the room.

“Is this close enough for you now?” he suddenly asks with his ear pressed to your ear.

You mewl in complaint and shake your head.

Minho smirks at that, a corner of his mouth raises higher than the other. It gives you the impression that he has anticipated that answer and more than capable to cater to that demand.

He grips you by the waist and pulls you even closer, he slings his arm around you, keeping your body still as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, fulfilling your wish. It's just the two of you, bodies tangled on the bed, hands intertwined on the sheets, and you want this night to last forever, you don't even care if you have to live in darkness as Minho knows how to brings out the stars.

The room is quiet now, the air filled with the soft rhythm of your breathing and Minho's. The sheets are tangled around your legs, the faint scent of him clinging to the fabric. Minho lies beside you, his chest rising and falling steadily as his arm drapes protectively over your waist.

You shift slightly, your cheek resting against his shoulder. His skin is warm against yours, grounding you in the stillness of the night. Minho stirs at the movement, his hand tightening briefly on your hip before relaxing again.

“You okay?” he murmurs sleepily, his voice rough around the edges but laced with concern.

“Okay,” you whisper back, smiling softly as you tilt your head to look at him.

His eyes flutter open, dark and drowsy but still full of that intensity he never seems to lose. He shifts closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead before settling back into the pillows. “Good,” he mutters, his hand lazily tracing patterns on your back.

For a while, neither of you speak, content to bask in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The weight of his arm, the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart—all of it lulls you into a state of peace you hadn’t realized you needed.

Minho’s fingers trail up to your hair, gently brushing it away from your face. “Don’t even try to leave,” he softly threatens, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I wasn’t planning to,” you reply, your lips curving into a smile.

His lips find yours in a slow, lingering kiss, one that feels like a promise. When he pulls back, his gaze searches yours, as if memorizing every detail.

“Good,” he says again, his voice softer now, almost inaudible.

As the minutes stretch into hours, sleep finally begins to claim you. Minho pulls you closer, his arm wrapping securely around you. His breath is warm against your temple, his presence a protective cocoon that makes you feel utterly safe.

And with that, the world fades away, leaving only the quiet comfort of being beside him, the rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby as you drift off together.

The morning light streams through the tall windows of Farfalle as you walk down the hallway, the crisp click of your shoes echoing faintly. With a light knock on the door, you wait for Chris’s faint, “Come in,” before pushing it open slightly and poking your head in.

“Good morning!” you chirp, a bright smile on your face.

Chris glances up from his desk, clearly surprised by your sunny demeanor. His own lips curve into a smile as he leans back in his chair, arms crossing. “Well, someone’s in a good mood today.”

You shrug coyly, stepping into his office and making your way to his desk. “Maybe,” you say, your tone teasing. From your pocket, you pull out a small bottle and place it in front of him with a sly smile.

Chris’s brows furrow, and when he realizes it’s a digestive drink, he fixes you with a playful glare. “Really?” he says, exasperation coloring his tone.

“Just in case your stomach acts up today,” you quip, barely able to suppress your grin.

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek and then shakes his head, but there’s amusement in his eyes. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Never,” you say with mock seriousness, before leaning forward slightly. “I also came to give you a warning.”

His brow arches, curiosity flickering across his face. “A warning?”

“Don’t act too friendly towards me,” you say, your tone playful but laced with faux seriousness. “And definitely don’t behave in a way that could be misunderstood by everyone—especially Chef Lee.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “And why’s that?”

“Because if you, even for a second, make me think I’m your favorite, I’ll start expecting special treatments,” you warn with a grin.

His smile widens, and he leans forward on his desk. “What if I told you that you already are my favorite? Tell me what kind of special treatments you want from me?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “At least try to pretend like I’m not your favorite.”

Chris chuckles again, the sound low and warm. “Fine,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll try my best.”

With a triumphant grin, you reach into your pocket again and pull out a lollipop, placing it on his desk. “Since we've reached an agreement,” you say with a laugh.

Chris stares at the candy for a moment before sighing, his smile softening as he hurriedly puts the lollipop in a pocket of his navy suit. “This is exactly why you’re my favorite.”

You laugh as you turn to leave, waving over your shoulder. “Have a great day, Manager Bang!” You say in a veiled formality and a suppressed smile.

His quiet chuckle follows you out the door, leaving a small, satisfied warmth in your chest as you return to the bustling kitchen which immediately puts you on edge.

Your eyes widen as you see them hauling boxes of ingredients into the kitchen, the clattering of crates and the shuffle of hurried feet filling the air. A knot of dread forms in your stomach—you should have been helping with this.

You sprint to the back entrance, weaving through the bustling staff. Sure enough, Minho is there, standing at the edge of a delivery truck, clipboard in hand as he meticulously checks off the contents of each box. His voice cuts through the air, sharp and commanding, as he instructs everyone to carry the ingredients inside. He’s inspecting two styrofoam boxes when you cautiously approach.

“Why do we need fish roe?” he mutters, narrowing his eyes at the label.

“It’s for Chef Sara’s dish,” you answer quickly, hoping to be helpful.

Minho’s head snaps up, and his sharp eyes lock on yours. His gaze narrows further, the intensity of his stare making you freeze. “And where,” he starts, his tone low and dangerously calm, “have you been?”

You avoid the question entirely, choosing instead to give him your sweetest smile and hope that you can get away with it.

Minho’s lips curl into a sly, almost mocking smile, and he tilts his head slightly. “Come here,” he says, motioning with two fingers.

Warily, you step closer, and before you can react, his hand darts toward your forehead. You instinctively close your eyes, bracing yourself.

“Keep your eyes open,” he scolds, flicking your forehead hard enough to make you wince.

“Ouch! Chef!” you protest, rubbing the sore spot with a pout.

He merely smirks, unbothered. “If you have time to smile like an idiot, you have time to work.”

You grab a box of ingredients hurriedly, eager to escape his glare. “I’ll take this inside,” you mutter, hoisting it up.

“You should be,” he replies smoothly, not missing a beat. “You’re part of the kitchen staff, remember?”

“Yes, Chef,” you answer, louder this time. As you’re about to carry the box away, he stops you with a hand on the edge of it.

“Not that,” he says, taking the box from you with ease. “Take the sack of short-necked clams.” He nods toward the truck bed. “You’re in charge of vongole, aren’t you? These clams are your precious babies.”

You hesitate, staring at the heavy sack with dismay. Gathering your courage, you grab it and attempt to lift it. The weight nearly pulls you off balance, but you hold on, determined.

Minho watches your struggle, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “What? Are you going to act like a girl now?”

You glare at him but straighten up, adjusting your grip on the sack. “No, Chef,” you snap, gritting your teeth as you finally manage to lift it.

“Then hurry up,” he barks, his voice loud enough to make you flinch.

“Yes, Chef!” you shout back, stumbling slightly as you head toward the kitchen with the sack.

You can feel his eyes on your back, no doubt ready to pounce if you falter. Despite everything, a strange thrill courses through you. Minho’s treatment of you in the kitchen is as cold and exacting as ever, but the contrast to how he was last night only makes it more intriguing. It’s a game of hot and cold, and you find yourself enjoying the uncertainty of what might come next.

Minho steps into the quiet kitchen, the clatter of utensils and murmurs of the staff enjoying their lunch fading into the background. It’s the only time during the day when the kitchen isn’t buzzing with chaos, and he plans to take full advantage of it. He heads straight for the workstation, intent on prepping the ingredients for his new dish.

He’s mentally cataloging everything he needs when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Without glancing at the screen, he answers, half expecting it to be some important work calls.

“Hello?” he says curtly.

“Minho,” comes a familiar, overly sweet voice that instantly grates on his nerves.

He stiffens. Sara.

She skips any pleasantries, her tone light but deliberate. “It’s been so long since we’ve worked in the same kitchen, hasn’t it?”

Minho’s jaw tightens as he grips the phone. “What do you want?” he asks coldly, already regretting picking up.

Sara doesn’t answer directly, instead continuing with an air of feigned nervousness. “I have to admit, it’s a bit... intimidating. Being in the same space as you again.”

He exhales sharply, more annoyed than surprised. “You’ve always wanted what I have,” he bites out, cutting through her coy act.

A low chuckle comes through the line, infuriatingly casual. “Oh, Minho,” she says smoothly, “I’m not here to take it from you. I want us to share it.”

Minho scoffs, the sound harsh and dismissive. “Share?” he repeats, the word tasting bitter in his mouth.

“With both of us there, we could make something extraordinary,” she says, her tone as slippery as ever.

He doesn’t bother responding, his silence heavy with disdain.

Sara lets the pause linger before finally breaking it. “Well,” she says lightly, “I’ll see you later, Minho.”

The line goes dead before he can hang up on her. Minho stares at the phone in his hand for a moment, his expression hard and unreadable. He slips it back into his pocket, his jaw tightening further. Share the kitchen? With her? The thought alone makes his stomach churn.

He shakes his head, refocusing on his ingredients. If Sara thinks she can rattle him, she’s wasting her time. The kitchen is his, and nothing—least of all her—will change that.

As he focuses on his dish, Minho hears the sound of footsteps echoes through the quiet kitchen. Without glancing up, Minho knows it’s you. He can sense your presence even before you step into his line of sight, though he doesn’t acknowledge you.

You don’t speak at first, clearly aware that when Minho is cooking, interruptions are unwelcome. The kitchen hums with the low sizzle of the foie gras in the pan, the aroma rich and intoxicating. He’s in his zone, focused on perfecting the delicate balance of flavors for his dish.

After a moment, though, your voice breaks the silence. “Can I have a taste of the foie gras, chef?”

Minho doesn’t even look up. “No.” His response is flat and immediate.

Undeterred, you take a step closer. “What if I help prepare the liver? I’m good with—”

“No,” he cuts you off again, his tone firm.

“Fine,” you say with a sigh, clearly thinking of another angle. “What if I assist with plating? I’ll make it look perfect—”

“No.”

This time, your voice takes on a pleading tone. “Can I at least taste the failed ones? You know, the ones you don’t use—”

Minho’s hand pauses briefly, his gaze flicking to you. “I’d hate that even more.”

You huff, realizing you’re getting nowhere. But rather than give up entirely, you try a different approach. Your eyes land on the remaining fish nearby, and you ask casually, “Can I at least have the rest of the fish, then?”

As your hand reaches out, Minho’s reaction is swift. He slaps your wrist lightly, his movements sharp and precise.

“That’s mine,” he warns, his voice low and serious. “Don’t touch it!”

You withdraw your hand quickly, your pout almost comical under the weight of his intense stare. For a brief second, Minho’s lips twitch, but he suppresses the urge to smirk.

Instead, he gestures toward the door. “If you have that much energy to bother me, go call everyone to get ready for dinner service.”

“Yes, chef,” you obey as you always do, but not without one last attempt at teasing him. As you turn to leave, your fingers hover playfully over the fish again, daring to provoke him.

Minho narrows his eyes and clicks his tongue, annoyed. “Don’t even think about it,” he growls.

With a mischievous grin, you laugh softly and disappear through the door. Minho shakes his head, a faint smirk finally breaking through. You’re infuriating, but somehow, it only fuels his focus.

The kitchen hums with a tension that feels almost electric as everyone stands at their stations, awaiting Minho's lead. He steps forward, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

"Is everyone ready for dinner service?"

A unified reply echoes back, "Yes, Chef!"

Minho surveys the room, his gaze sharp and commanding. “There’s a lot to prepare for tomorrow’s reservation—100 guests. It’s going to be a long night.” He points toward Taesoo, Felix, and then you, his eyes briefly locking with yours. “You three stay after closing time. Understood?”

“Yes, Chef,” the three of you reply in unison and Felix sneakily offers his fist at you and you give it a gentle bump with your fist.

Just as the service staff enters, informing that dinner guests have arrived, Chris strides into the kitchen, his presence drawing everyone's attention. His casual demeanor is replaced by something heavier, his expression unreadable as he clears his throat to address the team.

“I hope you’re all prepared for tomorrow’s press conference,” Chris begins, glancing around. “We’ll be introducing the new additions to the menu—Chef Lee’s foie gras and Chef Sara’s triple-flavored pasta.”

Minho freezes mid-step, his jaw tightening as the words land. The room feels like it shifts; everyone is equally stunned, their collective silence palpable.

Chris doesn’t stop. He then turns toward Minho and says, “Sara says she’ll be making the pasta herself.”

The phone call suddenly clicks into place. Minho’s expression doesn’t change, but you can see the sharp edge in his gaze. You’re not the only one who notices—Felix is the first to speak.

“What?” Felix blurts, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Does that mean she’ll be cooking here, in this kitchen?”

Chris nods, calm yet firm. “Yes. As it'll be on the restaurant’s menu.”

Felix protests, his tone rising. “That’s nonsense! How can there be two chefs in one kitchen? You can’t. It's like having two conductors for the orchestra. Do you think that'd work? Do you even think about us?”

Seungwan chimes in, frowning. “They’d have completely different ways of making the same dish. What do we do then?”

Sous Chef Seojun, always composed, adds with a dry tone, “Even if she won first place for the new menu, she’s an outsider who participated without prior notice. I think the right thing for her to do would be to give us the recipe and we compensate her for it.”

Chris’s patience visibly thins. His jaw clenches, and for the first time, you see a flicker of true tension in his usually relaxed posture. The sight of him like this—stern, commanding, his gaze hard—shouldn’t distract you, but it does. He looks… devastatingly hot.

“Enough,” Chris says, his voice low but firm. “The restaurant was closed for three days for a reason. We agreed on changes in the restaurant,” he adds, looking directly at Minho, “And all you need to worry about is your foie gras, Chef.”

Minho exhales sharply, a sound that betrays his simmering anger. You can see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clench at his sides. You know it's not the right time for it but Minho also looks... devastatingly hot.

He narrows his eyes at Chris, sensing there’s more to come. “Don’t tell me that she's already here,” Minho says, his voice tight.

Chris confirms with a nod. “She’s here.”

As if summoned by his words,, Sara steps into the kitchen, her heels clicking against the floor as she strides in with a confidence that feels almost rehearsed. Her sweet smile only adds fuel to the tension in the room.

“Nice to meet everyone,” Sara says, her tone light, playful. Her eyes flicker to Minho. “I hope no one plans to chase me out of the kitchen just because someone here has… issues tolerating women in the kitchen.”

The comment is a thinly veiled jab, and she glances pointedly at Felix, acknowledging him as Minho’s loyal protégé. Sara continues, turning to Minho with a feigned sweetness. “I’ll follow your instructions, Chef. Tell me where to stand and from which stove I should work.”

Minho’s knuckles whiten as he grips the edge of the table, his rage barely contained. He says nothing, his silence louder than words.

Sara tilts her head, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “Should I pick the station myself, then?”

Her hands slide onto the chef’s table, a deliberate, territorial move. The implication is clear—she’s claiming his space.

It’s the last straw.

Minho spins on his heel, his movements sharp and deliberate. His eyes burn with fury as they lock onto hers, and for a moment, the air between them feels suffocating.

Sara doesn’t flinch, meeting his gaze with calm defiance.

Without a word, Minho storms past her, his shoulder brushing hers hard enough to make her stagger. The force of his exit is like a storm ripping through the room, leaving everyone in stunned silence.

Sara straightens herself, brushing off the impact with a smirk. But the damage is done—the kitchen is left in a tension so thick it feels impossible to breathe.

And just like that, Minho is gone.

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divinebeautyrevealed2 · 2 days ago

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Top Five Models: Bio for Veronika Zemanova.

"I was born in a small city in the Bohemian region of the Czech Republic on the 14th of April, 1975. My childhood in The Czech Republic was a lot different than it would have been either in another time (for instance now, after the fall of Communism) or another place (like in the West). Although it was different, it was still wonderful, as all childhoods should be. My parents were great and I had a lot of good friends. At an early age I became very interested in biology and the visual arts. I dreamed then of becoming a biologist. In 1989, I entered my first year of gymnasium (or high school, as Americans call it). This happened to be the year that everything changed for everyone, not only in the Czech Republic, but in all of what used to be the Eastern Bloc. The first years of the new system were particularly difficult years for just about everyone. It was during this time that many beautiful Czech girls left for the West, looking for opportunities to make more money than they had a chance to earn in the Czech Republic. I was, of course, too young to leave, so I stayed and finished gymnasium."

"After gymnasium, I spent three years at a photography school. To make for money for school (which was expensive) and living expenses, I did a whole bunch of different things: I was a bartender, a saleswoman for such things as wallpaper and photographic equipment, and I started my own photo studio. The studio was just beginning to be successful when someone stole all of the very expensive equipment, some of which I had not even paid for yet. At this point I was forced to return to working for other people (I much prefer working for myself). I bought a large make-up kit and began working as an assistant to photographers and make-up artists. It was very difficult work and did not always pay that well, but I enjoyed myself and learned a lot that is useful to this day. One day, I had a big job scheduled for the next day and was preparing for it when I realized that someone had stolen my entire make-up kit! I went to the photographer in tears of frustration to tell him that I could not do the work. He suggested that I work the event as a model instead. Thus began the wonderful modeling career of Veronika Zemanova!"

"I was very surprised to find that after that first modeling job (which I hadn't believed I was pretty enough for) I was being offered all kinds of other modeling jobs all over the world. Initially all I wanted to do was to make enough money to pay off all of the equipment that had been stolen, but soon I had made enough to not only pay that back, but had enough to start an entirely new and better studio. I was working at the studio as a photographer, agent, and make-up artist while also doing modeling work for others. Soon however, the modeling became too time consuming for me to put in the necessary hours at the studio, and so I sold the studio. These first years of modeling were not easy! Remember, at first I did not speak any English at all! Being in new countries alone, finding myself in strange and even risky situations, and so forth. However, I don't want to sound as though it was only bad or difficult; I was able to travel extensively, it was exciting work, I learned English (finally!), and made many beautiful photos of which I am still proud. And good money!"

"After I had been modeling for a while, I decided to start a web-site with an Italian photographer. The idea to do this came about after seeing so many photos of myself on the web. Eventually however, I decided to disassociate myself from the site, and am no longer connected to it in any way."

"I created my own web-site and it was very successful. I believe this will be the best site of its kind and that I will really enjoy the chance to not only model, but photograph, act as an agent, and maybe even do make-up! I hope you enjoy it as much as I will enjoy creating it!"

"I always wanted keep my private life totally unknown to the public. That is what all the glamour models do. But I have decided to break the rule to reveal that I was married on November 12, 2003, in a ceremony performed on the beach of the island of Mauritius. I did it because I am in love. I have also decided to quit my glamour-modeling career. I had a choice between a career or a good relationship. I have chosen to make the man I love feeling happy and comfortable with me. This is why I have chosen to stop modeling. Do you think this is risky? But that's what love is about. You need to take risks. Please do not be sad for it and wish me luck."

Veronika's modeling career which began in ernest in 1997 would end after a 12 year run in 2009. Those years would furnish us with well over 30000 photographs and videos which will forever immortalize the beauty which was/is Veronika for this generation and those to come. Her very last professionally taken photo was shot by Scotty JX at her Ibiza property on Sept. 28, 2009.

Even the photographers who worked with Veronika were awe struck by her beauty as a few of them recount below:

Early on Veronika went to Italy and worked with such greats as Roberto Rocchi and Alberto Magliozzi. Roberto Rocchi even went on to quote in his book "Forme e Percorsi Del Corpo" that Veronika was "a wonder of nature".

J.Stephen Hicks went on to write in his Hall of Fame post about his experience with Veronika:

"Veronica Zemanova was (and is) truly one of a kind. And I was the first American photographer to shoot her. Someone from Prague (can you believe I don't remember who) sent me photos of her and I (we) immediately made it our mission to contact her, fly her to the U.S. and shoot her. We agreed by e-mail to do several days of work in our studio in L.A. and then fly her to Mexico for additional scenes. Upon arriving at LAX, Veronica was shy and honestly a bit untrusting. She'd just turned nineteen at the time and was green in every way. Veronica grew up in a little Czech town called Ceske Budejovice and her beginnings were poor and without stability. One thing was for sure, Veronica had no idea how truly beautiful she was."

"We spent the first days shooting her giving her complete direction. Seriously, dictating every move of her body from head to toe, including expressions. It was a bit like working with a perfect doll that we were animating. And honestly at that point in her evolution, not really trusting us and not really knowing her beauty and being such a newbie model, I think she wasn't having a great time. Despite knowing she was gonna get a bunch of money her modeling personality was kind of benign to be honest. She wasn't mean or bitchy, just kinda stuck in neutral. Funny thing was though, it didn't even matter. 'Cause Veronica was flat out GORGEOUS or would the word be SUBLIME or RAVISHING?"

"Lets just say she was simply STUNNING, BREATHTAKING, and MIND BLOWING"

“We shot her a ton on her first trip to the U.S. and we also took her to Mexico for some unforgettable images. She came back and shot with us several times after her first journey. The last time we shot her she was a few years older, had new boobs (crazy huh?) but best of all she'd met her husband, a man she said loved her more for who she was than what she looked like. And Veronica was beaming, warm and happy. And we were happy for her."

"There will never be another Veronica I'm certain. She was one of kind that will never be reproduced unless computer generated. I consider us oh so lucky to have experienced shooting her at the very best time in her career. Her images of beauty will live on forever".

#veronika zemanova #veronica zemanova

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the-ghost-of-jason-todd · 26 days ago

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ahhh. yeah.

#brainblogging #i hate having significant life events #it fucks with my head so bad #'what if everyone thinks i'm overbearing' girl you replied to a single post #'okay but what if no one cares about me at all' girl... you replied..... to a single post #girl being relative here #............i should not be using 'girl' this way i am just now realizing #kind of mean to girls tbh #i'm having a bit of a spiral lmfao #can't help it tho #this is what happens when i send messages to like six different chats and get nothing back #my head becomes an echo chamber #and there's no way to regulate #i'm having a TIME

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elytrafemme · 22 days ago

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Accidentally viewed the story of the person who like hunted me down on instagram from my past . Lowkey freaking out but its like. Honestly. Once you get through the breakdown point to the otherside there is a sense of calm that things are falling apart within the hours that you spent like a whole year trying to escape from and always being really terrible at. So she can see that i viewed her story and id on't even remember what it said and im just like. I mean. I don't know what she can do to me at this point but even just seeing a text from her might kill me so i don't know if i wait for a confrontation or just block or what. How am i just now going through the grief of this man cmon

#neg #UGHHHHHHH... girl who had to go through the realization that this person was Traumatizing #but never the realization that this person was also Their Closest Friend #like i cared about her!! i texted her when i was fucking high!!#i texted her happy birthday two months late!! i talked to her as of like a few months ago!!#and i shouldn't have but like we used to sit in a park together and she's the reason i have a favorite coffee order #even though it was just her favorite and she would always buy it for me #and we could have had something good if she didn't do all the shit that she did. but she doesn't seem to know.#and now i feel like i'm being hunted down by the fucking devil and God i am tired. I am so fucking tired.#i don't really have a way to console myself here i just kind of give up i think. like yeah i really did fuck up #crazy how she makes me spiral like this but like i have been in my hometown for ONE day. i have a MONTH left #i have over a week until i can call my college best friend again!! And i don't know if i wanna tell my other friends this!!#I should really just text someone but fuck man it's been one day ithought i had my shit together #she seems so happy now. and single i think. and I feel like my body is a cicada shell #and i'm just vagbuely off writhing somewhere and making a damn fuss about the whole thing

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girlivealwaysbean · 3 months ago

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sometimes my bestfriend is like an angel in disguise istg

#i was justttttt thinking that aw it's so sad that navratri music is playling everywhere and i don't have friends to go with #like last year atleast i had tuition sorta friends but now ive isolated them too it sucks #but i was like well it's okay ill do it when i grow up celebrate every festival i didn't get to in my house because we just never do #and then she calls and she's like let's go this club jahan every year famous hota hai full celebration #and i was like ehh i don't want to i don't even know how to play and ill have to convince dad for raat can't we just #go to a cafe or something dopahar mein uske liye i don't even need permission #and she even agreed but she sounded sad and disappointed about it so i was like well fuck it you want to go club na #and she was like yeahhh so i was like aagh okay and i asked and we're going tomorrow!!!!!#and it's so ridiculous like i just say i don't want to go but it's actually so exciting to go someplace other than a cafe!!!!#and i was complaining to her ki okay ill go but i won't dress up and five mins later me and mumma are making full outfit with dupatta #style decided jewellery she has saved for years that are specifically navratri types and she's like we'll get my blouse altered it's fine #you know being sick has really given me perspective on my parents #im not going to hate my mom anymore i never used to growing up i always thought she was brave but helpless #but a stupid day in 12th i realised when we were talking that technically she COULF get divorced she just #doesn't want to because she'll be alone and she thinks we're growing up and leaving anyway so why should she let go of financial #stability for us. which is wild to me because girl you can't buy anything you want without his permission so i don't understand what's the #point if he's rich or poor but whatever whatever she's been raised this way etc etc #but anyway being sick really made me realise who the real monster is😭 all dad did was shout horribly at me all the time #and was like don't you dare take meds they're fake this is all just junk food stop eating it and you'll be fine. when i was literally #having 103 FEVER.#and mom was the one who was making me different drinks juices cutting up fruits staying with me as i get my blood drawn #checking my fever sote jaagte #like wow i literally wouldn't have gotten better if it wasn't for her and i couldn't believe how attentive and nice she was being #like yes i understand she just thinks this is her duty she's just playing her role a mother a housewife but still #idk i just realized that okay atleast she's good at being a mother dad isn't even that why am i feeling good about him when his love #not even love his politeness is so fucking conditional #and mom healed me even tho i told her about clubbing and drinking lots of alcohol she's kinda against it because she's seen #horrible things in life family yucky men but still she understands ans trusts my sister mostly and know we just do it for fun and she #wasn't even mad!!!!!!! like wow ooay #moms love is actually not conditional for the first time in my life i felt like if i fall maybe she could be there to catch me and dad wld

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jackass-jones · 9 months ago

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Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰

#its like okay listen i understand the basic math of any persona game they say things and everything they say is actually #very bad when you think about it for more than 3 seconds #like what theyre intending to do with the death of this character is be like oh no your sad friend dies tragically thats so saddddd #but that doesnt mean you cant live a wonderful life full of meaning you cant let grief consume you life is beautiful awagga #and i guess shinji is a specific character whos used cuz i guess its more tragic that he never realized he was worthy of life and shit #and i guess its also like ‘dont be like this guy who let grief consume him and then died you gotta Be Different’#which i dont. love. that last part cuz if you think about shinji and what led him down this road #its like. of course hes depressed! he accidentally killed a woman with a child when he was 16!#he himself is an orphan and he just made some other kid an orphan as well and it happened cuz his persona went out of control #which very much can translate to ‘this must mean im dangerous and can hurt everyone if im not kept under control’#so of course he isolated himself and believed he was evil and became suicidal like who wouldnt feel that way #like am i supposed to be mad he left sees and took drugs cuz uh while i dont think isolation or Evil Drug is good for his mental health #i dont think him continuing to fight in sees is something he can just easily do again given how he killed someone like he shouldnt have to #be a part of this thing anymore like how would he even safely get castor to not do that??? he cant kill more people on accident!#so yeah like using shinji as an example of bad coping mechanisms is already just. a big fucking oof to me like it just feels like the game #is saying he shouldve gotten over it and simply not be suicidal and stayed on the team. idk if thats the intent but uh it wouldnt faze me #cuz persona games are notoriously awful at writing characters who are traumatized and abused #but what makes everything even worse is how the game kinda like. acts like shinjis death is a stepping stone #like we’re supposed to use it as a wake up call and understand the stakes but keep going on anyways #and akihiko and Ken get. ‘great character development’ according to the game telling you they have now developed #but damn all akihiko is is just repressed he cries for 3 seconds and then is like I SHOULD MAN UP and then neglects a depressed child #shinjis dying words are words to live by now even though they piss me the fuck off like girl am i crazy HES FUCKING #HES TELLING ME NOT TO CRY OVER HIM BECAUSE HE SHOULD BE DEAD ACTUALLY AND THIS IS A GOOD THING ACTUALLY #like if the game wants us to still find meaning in life despite losing someone it just really hurts that shinji has to die for that to work #apparently. cuz the character i see myself in is shinji. not some perfect prettyboy who does everything perfectly and has 4 gfs #his death seems like a punishment for bad behavior. the bad behavior being of course depression and drug use. and im simply supposed to be #better than that if i want to live. and we dont get to form a connection with him cuz thats gayyyyy #and his death is like a NOBLE HEROIC SACRIFICE idk its just such bullshit to me i hate it so bad #how is killing a suicidal guy and then treating it as admirable that he said ‘this is how it should be’ supposed to make me feel #makes me feel sick personally and it ruins the entire game’s theme to me because its fucking shallow and the story is bad and im tired

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brokenmenswhore · 4 months ago

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I hate to do asks but like just imagine this! At hogwarts there is a group that’s kinda like a polyamorous relationship but just for s*x and it’s like slytherin and gryffindor students and they decided they wanted someone from like a year younger so they start to slowly talk to innocent reader to get them comfortable around them before starting to get touchy with her (maybe she is a hufflepuff? That’s my house)

i’m a hufflepuff too 🫶🏻 thanks for feeling comfy enough to send me this ask if you don’t usually like doing that!

a proposition | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, and sirius, featuring alecto, dorcas, evan, lily, and mary)

warnings: none!

a/n: i don’t even realize my sirius favoritism until i proofread a poly story and i’m like damn okay then WHORE

a proposition: masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

Everyone knew about it.

Even though it wasn’t spoken of in the presence of the students not involved, everyone knew about it.

It wasn’t exactly a polyamorous relationship, because a relationship implies more than just physicality, which is what it was. It was purely for sex.

It was started, of course, by Sirius Black. He had a casanova reputation, and after a while, he started looking to the same group of girls when he was in the mood. His best friend, Remus, unknowingly slept with quite a few of the same girls, and a lot of those girls slept with each other.

James didn’t have as much sex as his two best friends, but he quickly became involved. After a while, a group was established.

All of the students involved knew one another well, and were all somewhat close friends that had not romantic desires toward one another, but unashamed lust. It was a sex positive group, and was essentially just a group of students who fucked each other whenever.

Despite the unofficial, non-relationship standing, they all agreed to only have sex with each other. If they wanted to add someone into the group, they all had to agree to it. So, in a way, it was a relationship, but, in a way, it wasn’t. There wasn’t really a label on what it was, but it worked for them.

Everyone in the group was in the same year at Hogwarts, so they all related to each other well.

However, a few of them began to crave something new- someone not so in line with everyone.

Everyone sat in the Gryffindor common room at an hour late enough that most others were asleep. James sat on the floor, his back resting between Dorcas’s legs as she played with his hair, tying small braids from the curly strands.

“We wanna bring something up,” James said.

“We’re doing we’s now?” Sirius scolded, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“I just mean, there’s something Dorcas and I talked about, and now I’m talking about it with all of you,” James clarified.

“Fair enough, what’s up?” Mary asked.

“I’m wondering how everyone here would feel about inviting someone new into the group.”

Everyone looked around the room at one another, attempting to gage the energy of everyone else before speaking their own opinions.

“I vote we should bring in someone younger,” Evan added.

“Younger like what? Like wouldn’t that be weird?” Remus asked.

“No, idiot, like a year under us,” Evan retorted.

“Where the fuck are we gonna find someone a year younger than us who would be down to do this?” Mary questioned.

Sirius flicked a spark off of his cigarette, clearing his throat and sitting forward a bit. “I have someone in mind.”

“Has everyone been trying to scope out prospects? Am I the only one who hasn’t thought about inviting in anyone new?” Alecto asked.

There was another shared look, and everyone shrugged. They had all thought about a change.

“Who’d you have in mind, Sirius?” Dorcas brought the attention back to his statement.

“There’s this hufflepuff a year below us, seems super innocent though,” Sirius said, taking a quick hit of smoke, “blushes every time I look at her.”

“Is she hot?” Remus asked.

“No, I’m proposing we all fuck her because she’s not hot,” Sirius snapped, his voice laced with evident sarcasm.

Sirius told them your name, and a few of them already knew who you were.

“She’s super cute!” Dorcas exclaimed, “I’m super down for that. Anyone disagree?”

Everybody was on board with the idea.

────── ☾ ──────

“Go on, then.”

James turned to Sirius and Remus, saying, “why does it have to be me? You go do it.”

“Fine,” Sirius replied, “Remus, go talk to her.”

Remus threw his hands up. “What happened to being set on making James do it?”

Sirius shrugged his shoulders. “She’s not gonna be sitting at that table forever. You nervous or somethin’?”

“No,” Remus quickly replied, “this is just, I don’t know, weird.”

“How’s it weird?”

“Because I’m about to go interrupt the poor girl in order to talk to her with the intention of later asking her to fuck me and all my friends,” Remus explained, “I don’t know, it’s just a weird thing to do.”

“Fuckin’ hell, I can’t stand you two,” Sirius said, flicking a spark off of his cigarette and walking over to you. He sat down across the table from you, watching you intently as you scribbled notes off a textbook.

You didn’t look up because you didn’t even consider that he was sitting near you for a reason.

“Hey.”

You looked up, and Sirius was looking directly at you. The familiar tint of red crept into your cheeks. “Hi.”

He took a drag of his cigarette, kicking his feet up onto the table. “Seen you around quite a bit.”

You couldn’t help but stare at his lips as they wrapped around the cigarette.

“We do go to the same school,” you quipped, smiling to show it was lighthearted.

Sirius smirked, happy you were responding well to him. “I usually don’t get on with anyone that isn’t in my year.”

“Why talk to me then?” you asked.

“Don’t know,” Sirius said, swinging his feet off the table and leaning his torso over the table a bit, “guess somethin’ just caught my eye.”

He knew his flirtations would make you blush, and they did just that. You smiled as you tilted your head back down, pretending to look over your notes in an attempt to calm yourself.

Sirius’s smile only widened watching you squirm under his gaze. “Whatcha studying?”

“Fwoopers,” you responded, “but understanding seems to evade me sometimes.”

“You know who’s super smart? My friend James.”

“Wh-“ before you could even stop him, Sirius signaled over James, who approached you with Remus in tow.

“This is James, James, say hi.”

James sighed. “I’m not a dog, Sirius, unlike some people.”

“Funny,” Sirius retorted, “do you think you could help my new friend with some Care of Magical Creatures work?”

“Oh, I don’t- I’m all good, I-“

“Course,” James lit up, sitting down directly next to you, “lemme see.”

He pulled the textbook toward him, familiarizing himself with what you were reading as Remus took a seat next to Sirius.

You watched a few girls walk past your table, shooting you dirty looks when they noticed that the boys were otherwise occupied with you. Sirius, Remus, and James has grown to be quite popular, and them speaking with a random, younger Hufflepuff was odd. Remus noticed your shift in energy.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just- I’m a year under you, I can’t do your schoolwork for you or anything.”

Sirius furrowed his brows in confusion. “Why would we want you to do our schoolwork?”

“I don’t know, is that not why you’re all talking to me?”

James diverted his attention from your textbook, looking at you in understanding. He felt a pant of guilt for springing everyone on you at once, and a pang of sadness for the fact you didn’t think they would actually want to talk to you just because.

“You forget James is top of his class,” Sirius said, but James didn’t think the mood called for quips. He shot Sirius a look, taking over the conversation.

“We’re sorry if we came off a little strong,” he started, “we all just wanted to say hey. We see you around a lot and think you’re cute, it’s as simple as that.”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly turning weak.

Sirius was smiling and relaxing back into the chair, amused to high hell with how innocent and blushy you were from such a small little compliment. He was so happy he suggested you.

────── ☾ ──────

The following day, Remus and Lily caught you walking down a corridor during your free period.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” you asked, directing the question toward Remus as they caught up to you.

“Didn’t feel like going,” Remus said, nonchalant.

“You can’t just not go,” you laughed, assuming he wasn’t serious.

“Be careful with this one,” Lily said to you, gesturing to Remus, “he’s a horrible influence. You wouldn’t have caught me dead skipping a lecture last year. He can be very persuasive.”

Something about the way she said it made you swallow hard, suddenly extremely aware of your presence and appearance.

“I’m Lily,” she finally introduced herself, throwing a piece of hair behind her shoulder. She was beautiful, and you became self conscious in her vicinity.

You didn’t respond, just smiled, so she took the opportunity to continue. “My friends and I are all headed to Hogsmeade later. You’re welcome to join if you want!”

“You’d want me to join?” you questioned.

“Don’t be silly, why not? Remus will be there too, and a ton of other really cool people.”

You contemplated your options. You had no reason to believe that Remus and Lily were not genuine in their invitation, and you were excited at the prospect of new friends. “Sure,” you responded.

Lily squealed and gave you a small hug. “I’ll go tell everyone you’re coming!”

“Why would you need-“

“Bye!”

Lily scrambled off down the hallway, leaving you alone with Remus.

“She tends to get excited,” Remus explained, “she’s the friendliest people-person I know. Can get quite annoying, actually.”

You giggled at his statement, and he took the opportunity to brush his hand against yours. You took it as an accident, so you didn’t even react, but then he intertwined his fingers with your own.

You didn’t retract your hand, but instead looked to where yours met his, and then looked at him. He continued looking forward, walking alongside you and not acknowledging what he did. He wanted to see if you would pull away on your own, but you didn’t. It felt comfortable.

You got ready for your trip with your new friends alone, since all of them were in Gryffindor or Slytherin and stuck to their respective common rooms. You caught Lily and Mary outside of their common room, and you walked with them down to Hogsmeade.

Now that you were outside of the castle walls, you noticed a shift in how everyone acted with one another. They were all very touchy, making sexual innuendos at each other and allowing themselves to have fun without restriction.

You followed as they immediately went to Honeydukes. Alecto informed you that Sirius had a serious sweet tooth, and always made everyone go there as the very first stop on their trips. No one complained, though, because they all wanted to anyway.

As you all exited the shop, Dorcas made a show of sucking her lollipop, staring Evan in the eyes as she did so. You felt your cheeks go hot, almost feeling like you saw something you shouldn’t have.

The next stop was the Three Broomsticks, and James saw your confusion as you reached the entrance.

“You okay?” he asked you.

“Yeah, just- didn’t you all just get a whole bunch of sweets?”

James laughed, “and?”

You smiled toward him. “Fair enough.”

“We don’t like to shy away from the pleasure of life, darling,” Dorcas said, imitating a very english accent. Everyone laughed in unison at her impression.

You all crowded around a table, and you remained silent, your hands in your lap for fear of obstructing the space Sirius had to your left and Mary had to your right.

You listened intently as everyone joked and talked about their current courses and professors, when suddenly a question was directed at you.

“So tell me, which professor do you like the least? I just know it’s Professor Bins. I mean, you’re crazy if you don’t say Bins,” Lily said.

“If I had to pick, sure,” you said.

“He’s never done anything to drive you crazy?”

“I mean, there was this one time he assigned so much work over the holiday that someone threw a desk out the window,” you started.

“Wait what? What exactly happened?” Lily asked, enthusiastic that you were finally opening up.

“It was just all textbook readings and analysis, especially about the Ministry and MACUSA and all that, and he said it had to be done by the time we came back from holiday. A few students protested, and he just got more and more angry until someone stood up, picked up a desk, and chucked it out the window. It happened so fast I don’t think anyone had the time to levitate it before it hit the ground.”

Everyone chuckled at the story, and you felt at ease now that you were becoming more and more comfortable with the group.

“And did he…”

“Faint from sheer stress? Oh absolutely,” you added, smiling as you spoke, your posture adjusting to mimic your growing comfort.

You didn’t catch it, but Sirius and Remus exchanged a look, nodding their heads upward at one another as Sirius gently placed his hand on your thigh.

Your body jolted a slight bit as you flinched, startled by the unfamiliar feeling. Sirius immediately pulled his hand away, but you turned to him, and spoke low enough that only he could hear. “It’s okay, you can leave it there.”

Sirius put his hand back, resting it low on your thigh. As time went on, and you continued talking, he began to rub his thumb on your leg. It felt unfamiliar, but soothing and intimate.

Of course you were attracted to the people at the table: they were all insanely attractive and kind to you, but you hadn’t felt this feeling before. Someone was touching you, and so intimately, and it was doing something to you.

Sirius began to slowly creep his hand upward, rubbing your inner thigh under your skirt, only a few inches away from your most sensitive area.

You shuddered and your breathing hitched in your throat, but you didn’t stop him.

You were suddenly snapped back to reality when you noticed everyone watching you. You looked around the table, slightly embarrassed and slightly confused.

“We have a proposition for you,” James said.

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tender-rosiey · 1 year ago

Text

“A BIT GENTLER, PLEASE?”

— gojo, nanami, geto, and sukuna feeling their baby kick (f!reader)

GOJO SATORU:

satoru was always all over you, one clingy and affectionate husband.

truthfully, while you would like to say that he is annoying and is making you regret ever getting pregnant, you have to admit that he makes being pregnant a lot easier to endure. his light-hearted way of speaking puts you at easy somehow.

he also made it very obvious that he is excited for the baby, maybe even more than you’re. one of the many ways he shows his enthusiasm is through buying baby clothes and baby equipment and I mean a shit ton of them.

that’s why you’re not surprised when he enters the house with yet another batch of baby clothes, “wifey, I am home!”

you get up and waddle your way to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “what did you get this time?”

“I thought you would never ask,” he smirks before pulling out each and every one of the outfits he got.

you’re sat on the couch with a cup of your favorite warm drink as you listen to his rambles, “first off, I got this really cute blue dress! call it a dad’s instinct but I think she will have my gorgeous eyes,” he grins.

you nod absentmindedly as he continues, “second, I got this yellow jump suit? overalls? dungarees?” he switches his accent in the end and you roll your eyes. he resumes, “eh, I don’t care, but it’s pretty so who cares?”

he puts the clothes aside before kneeling in front you, hand resting on your stomaxh, “right, baby?” he coos, “daddy’s going to get you all the pretty outfits you want!”

you’re about to drift to sleep while your husband busies himself with the baby, but you’re quickly brought back to consciousness when you feel her kick against your stomach.

your husband’s gasp quickly follows after before he presses his ear to your stomach, “can you do that again for me, pretty?”

his other hand moves to hold your own and he guides your hand to his hair, “somehow, this is making me realize just how close she is to finally join us, right, wifey?”

“right, ‘toru,” you smile softly and he quickly starts peppering your face with kisses, murmuring about how his pretty wife is simply irresistible.

NANAMI KENTO:

whenever someone asks you about kento, you can’t find the words to stress just how much of a sweetheart he is. he was always a caring and attentive man.

yet, somehow it amplified after your pregnancy: he helps you rest as much as he can, cooks for you, and gets you all the snacks you would like.

you also remember the first time you told him that your feet hurt, and he ended up massaging it for you. you cried that day.

in summary, he never left you in need of anything, like right now for example.

“y/n, would you like anything else?”

a dopey smile is plastered on your face as you relax further in the cushions, feet propped up on the pillow your sweetheart of a husband got.

he places your favorite snacks right by your side. you cup his face and press a lingering kiss on his cheek, “no, thank you, kento.”

he nods and takes a seat beside you. he takes your hand into his and starts rubbing your hand, “we should start preparing the baby’s room,” he murmurs softly.

you nod, head resting on his shoulder, “you’re right. we need to welcome our little princess well.”

he chuckles and his hand moves to rest on your stomach, “I assembled the crib already so that’s something to be proud of.”

nanami’s arm is wrapped around your shoulder and you snuggle closer into his chest, giggling, “my strong, independent, and reliable husband,” you sigh happily, “whatever will I do without you?”

he half-heartedly rolls his eyes, “flattery is getting you nowhere.”

“but it does!” you laugh and he lightly tickles you. your hand rests on your stomach, alongside his. you smirk, “what do you think, baby? is mommy right?”

to your absolute delight, the little girl kicks against your womb making you squeal and instantly look at your husband, “kento, did you feel that?!”

“…yeah,” his face is one of awe. she kicks once again and nanami can’t help but press a kiss to your stomach, “looks like she is a strong, healthy baby.”

“just like her dad,” you chuckle but stop to think about it for a moment before concern over takes your face.

nanami’s gaze quickly snaps to you, “what’s wrong?”

“if she will be as strong as you then god help my uterus.”

GETO SUGURU:

geto gets a little busy at times, but he does do his best to make time for you.

in addition to that, nanako and mimiko love hanging out with you so it kind of puts him at ease, knowing that you’re accompanied by someone.

today, he was doing some of his usual works in the establishment? shrine? eh whatever.

no fiber of his being expected the girls to burst into the room, grins filling their faces, as they urgently call him, “geto-sama! you have to see what just happened!”

with no hesitation, he abandons the followers and quickly follows the girls. he asks them, voice laced with concern, “is y/n okay? did something happen?”

the girls giggle as they finally near your room. mimiko speak up, “she is okay! but something important really did happen!”

somehow, it sends geto more into panic, because just what happened and why is it so important to the point they had to call him?

after a while, they are finally there, and geto wastes no time in sitting by your side, hands and eyes inspecting your body for an injury.

you giggle, “’calm down, suguru,” you take his hand and guide it to your stomach, “can you feel it?”

“feel it? what do you mean—“ he pauses upon the little kick against his palm. he smiles, actually grins, quietly before looking you in the eyes.

you nod with a smile of your own, while he leans down to kiss your stomach then your hand.

he rests his head against your stomach, “how are you, little buddy?”

geto chuckles softly, “better not cause trouble for your pretty mom,” his eyes lock with yours, “I hate to see her in pain or discomfort.”

you roll your eyes before patting your husband’s head, “you’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

“I would rather only charm you, y’know,” he chuckles.

the both of you completely forget about the pair of girls standing at the door way, each snapping a bunch of photos of the moment in front you.

nanako snickers a little before teasing, “that line was a bit cheesy, no?”

he quirks an eyebrow at them and they quickly flee away. with a soft sigh and a gentle chuckle, he goes back to admiring you, hand rubbing circles on your stomach.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

it’s safe to say that sukuna was surprised with the news of your pregnancy, but he came to terms with it quicker than you expected.

he just had to sit with himself a bit and understand that the ‘brat’ in you was his ‘brat’ as well.

he also found himself staring at your stomach longer than he would like. he started to really think about how life will go on from this point onwards.

he is a feared man, the king of curses, with no weaknesses to ever exploit.

that is until you came into his life. he grew fond of you and the rest is history. right now, though, you’re carrying his child.

after a long day, he finally enters your chambers and finds you fast asleep.

he guesses that carrying a child of his own must be more exhausting than that of a normal man. his feet take him to you and his figure towers over your sleeping form.

he watches your expression contort ever so slightly as you stir, perhaps in seek of your comfort.

he sits by your side and his hand traces your every feature, nails slightly grazing you but never hurting you. finally, it reaches your stomach and he frowns lightly.

he sighs, “just what the hell am I going to do with you?”

he feels a light kick against his palm.

his eyes widen at the movement and his hand involuntary presses against your stomach once more, wanting to feel the kick once again. he narrows his eyes, “what? you think that light kick is fit for the kid of the king of curses?”

as if understanding what he said, the baby delivers one rough and tough kick to your abdomen. you wince and whine at the pain, “sukuna, don’t be mean to the baby…”

“I am not trying to, woman,” he grumbles, “that kid is just short-tempered.”

sukuna is sporting quite the frown but it doesn’t stop his hand from massaging your stomach and you hum in content before sassing him, “oh wow, I wonder where did he get that from.”

you squeak as you feel a pinch to your side. you glare at sukuna who glares at you back before replying, “he got it from one stubborn woman who happens to be mine.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawings @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo

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elix8r · 4 months ago

Text

Prada Shoes and I Love Yous

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE: smut, angst, crack, (some?) fluff, college!au, exes to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au, socialite/richkid!au

SUMMARY: Life as a socialite wasn’t all champagnes and designer labels, especially not with the turn your reputation took due to a simple misunderstanding. Now, you were being painted by everyone as a big fat cheater who shattered her sweet boyfriend’s heart—a narrative that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, it was him who had betrayed your trust. Frustrated and feeling deeply wronged, you returned to society and the new school year after a summer of cutting off contact with everyone and the drama. But just when you thought you were ready to face the world again, you were blindsided by something unexpected: the lingering effect Heeseung had on you. And who could blame you? Heeseung was way too hot for you to get over in just three short months and now, seeing him with the girl he once told you not to worry about all over him? Oh, it was on.

You refused to be replaced, labeled as a crazy ex, or forgotten. No, you were going to make Lee Heeseung realize that you were the best motherfucking thing to had ever happened to him.

WC: 21.4k

WARNINGS: some extent of emotionally cheating? (not actual cheating i swear it’s kinda unintentional), jake is a bestie and fwb hybrid (kinda flirty but it’s very much platonic i swear), so much miscommunication, profanity, drinking, drugs, physical altercation, mentions of puke, slut shaming, mentions of pregnancy (no one is actually pregnant), toxic relationship, roughdom!heeseung and sub!y/n, unprotected sex, oral (m recieving), rough sex, unprepped? sex (consensual), creampie, mirror sex, deepthroating, cowgirl, dick too big?, creampie, and i am so sorry but karina is a BITCH like it’s almost campy how villainess she comes off

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hope everyone has fun with this one!! had a lot of fun writing it like and i'd love to hear you guys' feedback! love you lots <3 ☺️

Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck Lee Heeseung. Fuck Lee Heeseung.

This was all you found yourself repeating in your mind like it was some mantra while you reapplied your lip gloss, making sure to take one last good look at yourself in the mirror before shutting it close once you felt the plane’s wheels coming to a stop. From the outside, you looked absolutely perfect as not a single hair could be found out of place; no one would’ve guessed that you had been on a plane for over 10 hours. But inside, you were a wreck as you felt your anxiety shooting up as your heart raced a million beats per minute.

“You need to loosen up, you look like you have a stick up your ass.” Jake was lazily scrolling on his phone while nursing a champagne in his hand, barely sparing a glance at you. He seemed to be in a much more relaxed state than you were.

You scoffed before sending him a glare. “You know, if anything, you should be the one panicking right now. Everyone’s going to be talking about how we came back together.”

“Good thing I don’t give a shit about what people say, right? Should’ve thought that through before inviting me,” Jake shrugged, finally lowering his phone to look at you. His nonchalant attitude was pissing you off. “Plus, this all just looks worse because Ryujin decided she wanted to spend one last week with whatever his name was.”

He wasn’t wrong. It hadn’t just been the two of you in Monaco for three months; Ryujin had also been very much present. However, she found herself a summer fling named Louis, and unlike you and Jake, she couldn’t find herself boarding your private jet without spending one last fiery week with her lover before saying goodbye for good and starting school again.

“Maybe we should have just stayed an extra week with her. It probably would have saved us from the shit show that I know we’re gonna be bombarded with the second we step off the plane.” You released a deep sigh before you started to gather your belongings around you.

Jake followed suit, grabbing his stuff and getting up from his seat. “Well, if we stayed back an extra week, then that would mean we’d have to deal with your mom’s wrath for missing her annual end-of-summer garden party that we promised we wouldn’t miss. You know how important it is for her, and to be honest, I’d rather face Heeseung’s wrath than your mom’s.”

He was right. This garden party of hers had been going on every year since even before you were born, and you’d be out of your mind to miss it. It was single-handedly the most important event every year for your family, and you couldn’t even begin to fathom how your mom would react to your absence.

You reached over and snatched the champagne glass out of his hand before you downed whatever was left in it in one gulp as you braced yourself, hoping the alcohol would give you the courage you needed to step off the plane.

“Well, then I hope you’re prepared to take on Heeseung. Maybe he’ll be nice enough to spare your pretty face. God knows it’s the only thing you have going for you.”

Heeseung was going to fucking kill Jake Sim.

When he woke up this morning, you were the last thing on his mind, something he seemed to have finally freed himself from. However, all the hard work he put into casting you away from his mind seemed to have been in vain, as now all he could think about was you and how you had returned after three months of radio silence with the guy you cheated on him with.

Livid didn’t even cover what he was feeling, and it was evident in the way he swung his club. Each hit seemed to be driven by a surge of pent-up frustration.

“What the hell, man? That’s the third time today you’ve been way off course. What’s going on?” Jay shot him an incredulous look as he tried to locate where the golf ball had landed.

Heeseung let out a frustrated groan as he ripped off his glove and shoved his driver back into his bag. “Y/N’s fucking back.”

That was all Jay needed to hear to understand what was going on with his friend. "Shit, I saw. I’m sorry dude, it’s fucked up."

Heeseung was in no mindset to be playing golf right now. All he wanted was to go back home and wallow miserably in his bed. Unfortunately, they were only on hole ten of eighteen, and judging by his performance today, Heeseung knew it was going to take awhile.

"Did you know?" Heeseung couldn't help but blurt out, his frustration evident in his voice as he watched Jay effortlessly swing a shot miles better than his own.

Confusion flickered across Jay's face as he turned to face his friend. "What do you mean?"

“Did you know that she was coming back with Jake?” Heeseung felt his jaw tense as he mentioned his ex-friend.

“I didn’t even know he was with her until today. Honestly, I thought he’d just fucked off somewhere and didn’t bother telling any of us, considering how things went down. You know me, I would’ve told you straight up if I had found out earlier.” Heeseung trusted Jay implicitly. He was as loyal as they came, but unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for everyone in their friend group.

"Do you think Sunghoon knew?" Heeseung's question elicited an audible groan from Jay.

If anyone in their friend group knew how Jake spent his summer, it would undoubtedly be Sunghoon. However, Sunghoon was notoriously tight-lipped, especially when it came to sensitive matters. Since the breakup, the entire friend group had undergone an incredibly awkward shift. It seemed that everyone had more or less chosen a side, and allegiances were clear.

"You know he wouldn't tell us anything if he did. It's getting ridiculous. The other day, I saw Gaeul and him having brunch or something at the clubhouse, and the moment she spotted me, she practically sprinted over to explain herself. She claimed she's still 'Switzerland' in the whole situation and hasn't chosen a side," Jay recounted, frustration evident in his voice.

Heeseung almost snorted at the absurdity of it all. Their friend group had never been one to keep secrets or tiptoe around each other, but the last few months had been nothing but that. The betrayal by you and Jake had not only affected Heeseung's relationship with you but had also tainted the dynamic of their entire friend group.

“Literally, what is there to be ‘Switzerland’ about? I mean, this whole thing isn’t even complicated. Everyone saw them go into the bathroom together and come out literally holding hands. Trust me, I know what she looks like after giving head, and that's literally what she looked like in that video Beomgyu sent. Plus, Karina literally heard them.” Heeseung angrily got into the golf cart as Jay fished the keys out to start driving.

“Okay, well, no offense, but in all honesty, Karina’s probably not the most reliable source, cause she’s in an extremely biased position, but I guess that’s beside the point.” Jay’s words seemed to instantly bring a frown upon Heeseung’s face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Heeseung’s tone sharply switched up in an almost defensive manner.

Jay, feeling this shift, nervously cleared his throat as he stammered, trying his best not to offend his already sensitive friend regarding an even more fragile situation. “I mean, uh, well. You know…”

“What?” The grip he had on the seat of the golf cart seemed to get tighter as he waited for his friend to elaborate.

“Dude, you can't be serious? You know Karina’s been trying to ride your dick for the past, what, give or take ten years? I mean, we all know that she’s never had a good relationship with Y/N, and I’m pretty sure most of that resentment stemmed from the fact that you’ve always been head over heels for Y/N.” Jay slowly parked the cart and turned off the engine as he explained.

Still not understanding Jay’s point, Heeseung furrowed his brows, shooting his friend another annoyed look before getting out of the golf cart. “What are you trying to get at?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re dense. I mean, the last couple of months before Y/N cheated on you was the closest you seemed to have gotten with Karina because of that final project that you guys had or whatever. I mean, you were with her more times than you were with your own girlfriend, and knowing Karina, she seems like she could be delusional enough to have maybe taken that as a sign that you were interested in her? I mean, this is all speculation, but I’m just letting you know what we all saw.”

Jay cautiously treaded this topic. Heeseung was his best friend since they were babies, and he would always be on his side, but Karina was never anyone’s favorite with her extremely polarizing personality. He had no allegiance towards her, not to mention that she wasn’t actually even in their friend group and always only ever found lingering around wherever Heeseung was, so it was much easier for Jay to actually see through her. In fact, it seemed that all of their friends could pretty much catch on to Karina’s end goal except Heeseung.

“So you think it’s my fault that Y/N cheated on me?” The air got tense as Heeseung snapped at Jay while snatching his 7-iron out of the bag. “Just because I spent some time doing a stupid fucking school project with Karina doesn’t mean it gives her reason to go and suck off one of my best friends.”

Jay shook his head even before Heeseung was done with his sentence. Heeseung seemed to not be getting the point. “Fuck no, dude, that’s not what I’m saying. Karina has an incentive: you. If she gets rid of Y/N, then it means you’re up for grabs. Of course, Karina didn’t force Y/N to get on her knees for Sim, but she was the first one to come running, telling us what happened even before Beomgyu sent that video.” Heeseung was trying hard to focus on trying to get his ball on the green as he geared up to swing while listening to Jay.

“So you don’t think she should’ve warned me of what she heard?” He swung precisely, but it seemed that this whole course, to be precise, wasn’t going easy on him. He’d be lucky to get even a double bogey on the par-4.

Jay slightly grimaced at Heeseung’s shot. “No, it’s not that,” he let out a sigh as he walked over to Heeseung. “Look, you’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and I know the past few months have been fucking hard because of what Y/N put you through, and I just want you to be careful. Karina’s always been kind of a conniving, spoiled bitch who finds a way to get what she wants. Just because she’s been warming your bed every night since Y/N fell off the fucking Earth doesn’t mean she should be someone you start trusting.”

There was nothing he could say back to his friend’s words and it seemed that what Jay had said clung on deep to Heeseung's thoughts throughout the day, casting a lingering shadow and leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mind.

A small bead of sweat trickled down your back as the sun's relentless heat beat down on you. You took a small sip from your now lukewarm glass of champagne, its warmth doing little to refresh you. Today felt even hotter than previous years, and once again, you found yourself questioning why your mother insisted on hosting her most important event during the hottest month of the year.

Your cheeks were hurting from all the forced smiles you’d already given to family friends and important figures in your mother’s business circle. This garden party was always about promoting her upcoming collection and ensuring the continued support, financial and otherwise (not that she needed any more money), of both new and old acquaintances and partners. So, as always, it was no surprise that you were dressed head to toe in unveiled pieces from your mother’s upcoming collection. While no one could deny her incredible eye for fashion and the breathtaking quality of her creations, the white-tiered tulle dress with its plunging neckline felt entirely too inappropriate for a garden party and was getting on your last nerve. You stood out like a peacock—a testament to your mother’s outstanding handiwork—but you weren't a fan of the attention it drew.

“I need to get out of this fucking dress,” you muttered through gritted teeth, your annoyance palpable.

Jake chuckled softly beside you. “I can think of a few ways to get you out of that.”

You shot him a sharp look, clearly unimpressed by his insinuation. “Don’t say shit like that, especially around everyone. It’s not funny.”

“What? No one's around to hear, and even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. Everyone already thinks we’re fucking, and to be fair, they’re not that off.” He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips.

Without hesitation, you elbowed him hard in the ribs, your face growing even more pissed off. “That’s not funny, Jake. Seriously, shut up. It happened only a couple of times and that’s it. If anyone hears that, they’re actually going to think I cheated on Heeseung with you.”

Your pretty face sported a cold, serious expression, leaving no doubt about how much this mattered to you.

“Honey, I told you, they already think you cheated on Heeseung with me, so this isn’t going to change anything. Besides, you know damn well it wasn’t just a couple of times,” Jake rolled his eyes at your dramatics.

“Yeah, well, the difference is that every time I slept with you was when I wasn’t dating him, so I didn’t actually cheat. You’re just making everything worse by making it seem like you’re confirming what they already assume.” Your irritation was through the roof, and the heat was doing nothing to quell your annoyance.

Before Jake could say anything else, your mother’s saccharine voice filled the space. For once, you were grateful for her impeccable timing. “Oh, darling, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

The event’s dress code was always an all-white affair, but even then, your mother seemed to shine brighter than any of the guests. You were almost taken aback when you fully turned to face her. “Hey, Mom.”

You flashed her a tight smile, but she barely spared you a glance, her attention focused entirely on the figure next to you. Jake seemed to stiffen under your mother’s gaze. “Hello, Jake. You seem to be enjoying yourself,” she said, giving his attire a quick once-over and humming in approval. “You look quite nice. Brioni, I’m assuming?”

“Yes, as usual, the event is beautiful Mrs. L/N. You’ve definitely outdone yourself,” he nervously chuckled. Despite his attempts at flattery, your mother’s cold gaze remained fixed on him. “And you’re right, it is a custom piece from Brioni.”

“Unsurprising, seeing that your father is rarely seen in anything else. Perhaps you could enlighten him to broaden his wardrobe, and maybe we can see about getting you a custom piece of mine. I have no doubt the materials I use are incomparable to much of what’s in your wardrobe already. Though, I’m sure you already know that, since it seems much of your time these days is spent taking my beautiful pieces off my daughter.”

“Mom!” You gasped loudly, your eyes widening in disbelief at her bold statement. Your mother was never one to hold back her words, but this was beyond her usual antics. Next to you, Jake stiffened even more, nervously trying to regain his composure.

"Uh, Mrs. Y/LN, I can assure you that whatever you think is happening between me and your daughter is not actually true," Jake stammered, his voice strained with tension.

Your mother clicked her tongue in annoyance, obviously not buying his claims. "Well, the conversation I overheard the two of you having before I came seemed to say something different."

“Mom, can we not do this here?” You darted your eyes around, making sure that no one else was catching on to what was happening.

“Well, darling, I would usually never impose myself like this in your personal relationships, but it seems like the two of you have brought not only our families into this but now also my business as collateral just for the sake of some mindless fucking.”

You had never heard your mother speak with such scandalous vocabulary before. Seeing her like this was beyond unsettling and left you utterly speechless.

“Ma’am, I assure you that the rumors about our infidelity are not true at all. It’s been a huge misunderstanding that—"

"Jake, I've always held you in high regard, ever since you were a baby raised alongside my daughter. You've grown into a very smart and handsome young man, one your parents should be proud of. Out of respect for your mother, who you know is one of my closest and longest friends, I've tried to overlook what's been happening over the past few months. However, overhearing the two of you brazenly talking about your sexcapades in public, especially during one of the most important events of my year, is something I simply cannot ignore. This has not only strained my relationship with one of my closest business partners, but it has also jeopardized our families' standing. If anyone else had overheard, I can’t even begin to think how much worse the already damaging rumors would become."

“Mom seriously can you stop this,” you were furious that she would decide to do this here of all places. “This is fucking ridiculous and you know damn well that none of those stupid rumors are true. We can talk about this later, please.”

"I believe I'm entitled to speak as I please, especially considering this is my event," she retorted sharply. "Your father and I were generous enough to allow you to spend your entire summer break away without expecting you to address this mess you've created for us. I had hoped for better judgment from you. Instead, you and Jake decided to further exacerbate this situation by turning this trip into some sort of romantic getaway. I sure hope you were at least being smart and careful. The only thing that would make this situation worse is if you were to become pregnant. Who knows, you might even be pregnant right now. It wouldn’t even surprise me seeing as though that seems to be the only thing the two of you were doing in Monaco.”

Jake was a stuttering mess, his face flushed with embarrassment at the accusation. "Mrs. Y/LN, I swear that's not true," he managed to stammer out.

Before he could say anything else, your mother cut him off again. "I'm not so sure I can trust you on that. How can you be so sure that you didn't knock up my daughter?"

You were seething with anger at your mother's behavior, ready to intervene when suddenly a figure caught your eye.

Heeseung's fist connected with Jake's jaw before you even had a chance to react. The punch caught Jake off guard, and as he tried to recover, Heeseung landed another swift blow to his face.

"You got her pregnant?" Heeseung's voice was filled with anger as he launched himself at Jake, who was still reeling from the first two punches.

“What the fuck!” Jake groaned, struggling to fend off Heeseung's relentless assault.

Beside you, your mother was in a panic, shouting for security as everyone's attention turned to the commotion that erupted in front of you.

Before you could step in, Jay appeared out of nowhere, desperately trying to pull his friend away from their former friend.

"Heeseung, stop!" you screamed, rushing to Jay's aid.

But Heeseung was relentless, disregarding his surroundings entirely. All sense of decorum was abandoned as he straddled Jake, who was attempting to dodge Heeseung's blows while pushing him away.

From the other side, Sunghoon came running over to help pull Heeseung off of Jake. "Jesus Christ, Heeseung, get off him!"

After a couple of seconds of struggle, the three of you were finally able to pull Heeseung off of Jake, though he continued to struggle in attempts to break free. Security, called by your mother, arrived and joined in to help restrain the enraged boy.

Jake laid on the grass, his previously pristine custom white suit dirtied with splatters of blood and dirt from rolling around. Heeseung didn't look much better, his own suit now stained with blood, evidence of the fight. Despite being at a disadvantage, Jake had managed to land a few good punches, evidenced by the blood dripping from Heeseung’s nose. It was a chaotic scene, with whispers and murmurs from the other guests confirming their attention on the altercation. You could sense your mother's fury, even without seeing her directly.

"What the hell is this?" A gruff voice angrily interrogated.

Heeseung’s father had never been an easy person to be around, so you couldn’t even imagine how angry he currently was at his son’s behavior.

However, Heeseung seemed not to hear his father, his eyes staying trained on Jake, who was getting up with Sunghoon's help.

“Oh my, Liz, I am so sorry. I’m appalled; I genuinely am. I'm so embarrassed. I don’t know what came over him.” Heeseung’s mom quickly ran over to where your mother stood with fury and attempted to sincerely apologize.

“We are leaving.” Heeseung’s dad yanked his son from the security’s grip and started to drag him away, but not before also turning towards your mom with a stern look. “Yes, we apologize for our son’s behavior. We hope it didn’t ruin this beautiful event, and we will be excusing ourselves. Thank you for having us.”

You were still in shock with everything, and it seemed that everyone else was too, as no one moved and stood in silence, taking in everything that had happened. There was no way this just happened.

To say the last couple of days had been hell for you would be an understatement. Honestly, it felt even worse than the days following your breakup with Heeseung, when you could at least pack your bags and leave the country. But this time, with school starting in a week, that luxury would unfortunately not be granted to you a second time. Your parents were adamant that you face the mess head-on and frankly you found yourself wishing that you never returned from Monaco.

To make matters worse, Ryujin still wasn’t back. While she called every day, you still felt alone, especially since you hadn’t talked to Jake since your mom’s party. Rumors about your supposed pregnancy were rampant, further emphasizing your alleged infidelity, and you figured it was best to get some space from Jake until the rumors died down.

With nothing to do, you found yourself doing things you’d never normally do—like wandering down the chip aisle, looking for something to make you feel better about your situation.

“No, Ryujin, you don’t get it,” you huffed into the phone, frustration evident in your voice as you searched desperately for anything that sounded good. “I’ve gotten DMs from random people I’ve barely spoken to, asking if I’m actually pregnant and how far along I am. I’m so fucking sick of this.”

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry. This sucks so bad. It’s literally so fucking absurd and Heeseung was so stupid for this like I still can’t believe he did that. Don’t worry though, I’ll be there soon so just hold on,” Ryujin sounded sincere as the sound of waves echoed in the background. You envied your friend, who was probably at the beach right now, getting a nice tan with her hot beau, and not miserably suffering in this stupid predicament like you were.

“Ugh, I can’t wait until you’re here. I’m like seriously going through it and I just hope it’ll die down once school starts, but I doubt it because—”

“Y/N?”

You were abruptly cut off by a shrill voice. Even before you turned your head to face them, you knew exactly who it was and found yourself unable to hold back an exasperated groan. “Fuck, I’ll call you later, Ryujin.”

Karina had always been one of the most beautiful girls you knew, even from a young age and you couldn’t deny that she looked stunning now, even under the horrendously yellow dim lights of the grocery store. But, like always, she had a knack for bringing out a grimace on your face, which you sported as you turned to face her.

“Oh my God, no way! I thought it was you earlier but I was like, no way is The Y/N out shopping for groceries. But honestly, who else could it be? I mean, you’re unmistakable.” Karina held a shopping basket in one hand that barely had anything in it. She was dressed like she was about to attend a charity gala, a stark contrast to your Lululemon shorts and an old shirt from Heeseung’s closet.

“Hey, Karina,” was all you could let out before she animatedly started speaking again, not giving you a second to talk.

"It's been so long! I mean, how long has it been since we last saw each other? You didn’t even say goodbye to any of us and just left but you look great, especially considering—oh, and congrats! Honestly, I was actually worried it would be awkward between us, but once I heard the news, all my worries disappeared. You and Jake seem so happy together, and you have no idea how thrilled I was when I heard that you guys are about to start a family. It’s so cute and I now know that there's no reason for me to worry about you getting mad about me and Heeseung. Although I was a little surprised your boyfriend attacked mine like that, but I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

Karina spoke without pausing, giving you no time to digest her words and she didn’t seem to notice your growing annoyance as she continued to babble with that smug look on her face.

“Wait hold on, you and Heeseung are dating?” There was no way you heard her right.

But it seemed that you did as she nodded with a bright smile on her face. “Yeah it’s still kind of new only a couple of months but it’s been amazing. I mean I’m sure you know just as well that he’s like literally the best.” Her voice slowly drowned out as you took everything in. A couple of months ago was literally when you left for Monaco so it meant that Heeseung didn’t waste any time to make Karina his girlfriend.

“What the fuck, Karina?” You didn’t hold back, making sure she knew you were beyond enraged at this new revelation.

Her face held a surprised expression as you cut her off abruptly. “I’m sorry, but what do you mean?”

You rolled your eyes. You knew she understood exactly what you were talking about, and it infuriated you that she was pretending otherwise. You knew Karina too well; she was reveling in the fact that she currently had something you didn’t for the first time in her life.

“Drop the act, Karina. I don’t have time for this shit. We both know exactly what you’re trying to do, and it’s pathetic. You and your friends can call me a slut for supposedly cheating on Heeseung, but it’s rich coming from you when you and Heeseung literally did the same thing. Not to mention the fact that you two didn’t even wait a decent amount of time before getting together after he and I broke up. So honestly, I hope you’re both happy and sincerely, fuck you both.”

You didn't bother to stick around to hear whatever else she had to say. As you turned and walked away, you felt your eyes welling up with tears. You thought you were over Heeseung, but clearly, that wasn’t the case. The revelation of his new relationship pulled at your heartstrings, making you wonder if you ever really mattered to him the way he did to you. Nothing hurt more than realizing that the two year-long relationship you cherished above all else might have been a joke to him.

“Ryujin, I really don’t think I’m up for going out,” you sighed, looking at yourself in the mirror. Ryujin, on the other side of the room, was finishing her makeup at the vanity.

“No way, I told you, you’re not staying holed up moping around because of Heeseung again. You already did that in Monaco, and I’m not letting you waste any more time on that asshole. You’re coming out with us, and you are going to have an amazing night.”

Ryujin had finally come back the day before, and while having her by your side made you feel better, you couldn’t stop thinking about your ex.

“I seriously doubt one night of drinking and partying will make Heeseung disappear from my thoughts,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. You knew Ryujin would end up dragging you out, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t complain the whole time.

“I think you’re underestimating the power of a good night out. Who knows, maybe you’ll find some hottie to get your mind off everything,” Ryujin shrugged while spritzing perfume. “Maybe you should go looking for Jake.”

You shook your head at her. “Jake’s not going to help.”

“Well actually, from what I remember I think Jake helped a good bit with speeding up the process of you getting over moping about Heeseung a couple of months ago so who’s to say that it won’t work this time?”

“I am not sleeping with Jake again. That would literally make everything like so much worse. Everyone already thinks I’m pregnant with his kid. I don’t need more things to fuel that rumor.”

Ryujin wasn’t wrong about your summer situationship with Jake helping to distract you, but continuing it back here would only add fuel to the fire. Not to mention, your relationship with Jake was purely platonic with some sexual attraction. That was all it ever was even back in high school, and you had both talked at length about how neither of you saw a relationship beyond friendship. So even if you went to him looking for something more, Jake ultimately wouldn’t be able to give you what you wanted.

“Well then there’s other people! What about-” You cut her off abruptly.

You cut her off abruptly. “Ryujin, I know you’re just trying to help, and I really do appreciate it, but I just think sleeping with other people isn’t going to solve anything. I just want to lay low this semester and focus on school. I don’t want to be wrapped up in more drama.” Done with the conversation, you grabbed your purse, suddenly more eager to get to the party if it meant changing the subject.

“Ready to go?” you asked, and just like that, her eyes lit up and a wide, giddy smile spread across her face as she eagerly followed you out.

The Uber ride was short, and before you knew it, you had arrived. Hyunjin was known for throwing the best parties, and tonight was no exception. The massive manor, which you were all too familiar with, was already buzzing with more people than you imagined his parents would ever find acceptable.

“Hey, there you guys are!” Ryujin’s close friend Yujin, who you were also friendly with, excitedly ran over to greet you both. She had been studying abroad for 6 months and you hadn’t seen her since so you were even more elated to see her.

“Hey, Yujin! It’s been a while! You and Sunoo looked like you were having the time of your lives in Italy.” You greeted her warmly, following her inside as she led you to where all the drinks were.

“Oh yeah, it was beyond amazing, but I’m sure nothing compares to Monaco. God, I haven’t been there in ages.” She poured out shots and passed them to you and Ryujin. Without hesitation, the three of you knocked them back, grimacing slightly at the aftertaste.

“Fuck, I already miss it. It took like an hour to say goodbye to Louis, and I was so upset for the first 30 minutes of the plane ride. But the good thing about summer flings is that after the goodbyes, there's nothing left to hold onto, so it’s easy to get over.” Ryujin poured another shot for both of you while Yujin reached for a can of Ranch Water.

“I literally thought they were going to try something serious since she was with him all summer. Half the time, I couldn’t even find her because she and Louis were off somewhere, but I guess he really was just a summer fling.” You nudged your friend as Yujin let out an amused giggle.

“I bet! Those pics on your most recent Insta post, man, they were hot. What about you, Y/N? Any European hotties catch your eye?” Yujin wiggled her brows, and you rolled your eyes while reaching behind her for a can of Ranch Water.

“More like an Australian hottie,” Ryujin teased, and you instantly elbowed her.

“Jesus Christ, Ryujin, seriously shut up.” You shot her an annoyed look.

Yujin, however, seemed to find amusement in Ryujin’s remark as she gave you a wide-eyed look while giggling. “No way, so it’s true then?”

“Fuck no. I mean yeah, we hooked up, but I swear to God I’m not pregnant.” You shook your head vehemently.

You saw Yujin open her mouth, but Ryujin beat her to it, grabbing your arm. “Don’t turn around.”

Your brows furrowed at her panicked actions, and you started to turn your head, but she quickly stopped you. “What? What happened?”

“Fuck, Heeseung’s here,” Yujin answered, her eyes darting around past your head. “He’s over there near the pool table. Don’t turn around.”

You stood still, heart racing, as you listened to your friends' directions. You saw Ryujin's expression shift from panic to a scowl.

“And he brought Karina. She’s stuck on him like a fucking leech,” Ryujin sneered. Even before the summer, Ryujin had always been Karina’s number one hater, so her reaction was no surprise.

Quickly, you decided it would be best to leave the area, and the girls seemed to think the same as the three of you started to move. But before you could take a step out of the kitchen, a booming voice caught your attention.

“Y/N!” Sunghoon’s voice echoed through the music, loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear. You stiffened as you realized your presence was now exposed to everyone.

“Fuck, it’s been a long time!” He approached with a massive smile and, before you could even respond, engulfed you in a tight hug. Behind him, you spotted Jake trailing close by, rolling his eyes at his friend.

"Hey, Sunghoon," you greeted him back, debating whether to reciprocate the hug he wasn't letting go of.

"Okay, buddy, that's enough," Jake intervened, yanking his friend back.

"Oh, princess, you got even prettier while you were away! If that's even possible, but damn, you look amazing," Sunghoon's red, dopey eyes hinted at his intoxicated state.

"He's crossed," Jake confirmed, as if reading your mind.

"Oh God, why did you let him do that again?" Ryujin scolded Jake, delivering a disapproving look along with a smack on his arm.

"What the fuck! I'm not his babysitter," Jake retorted, shooting Ryujin a pointed look.

"Well, he is your best friend," you shrugged.

"I'm totally fine, you guys worry too much," Sunghoon shot everyone a smile before reaching for the drink in your hand, which you quickly pulled away.

"Yeah, Sunghoon, maybe lay off the drinking and smoking for now. I think I still have the video from the last time you got crossed," Yujin remarked, raising a skeptical brow at his current state. The mention of the video drew snorts of amusement from everyone except Sunghoon.

Instead, Sunghoon's eyes widened at her words, shaking his head vigorously. "I swear that won’t happen tonight."

"Well, it might if you keep this up," Ryujin added, recalling the infamous incident the last time Sunghoon was in this state. It involved projectile vomiting on a girl followed by passing out on her, effectively ruining any chance he might have had with her.

"Whatever," Sunghoon rolled his eyes, turning away, but before he could even take a step, he turned right back around (unsteadily with Jake stepping in to steady him), and blurted out, "Heeseung's here."

You could hear Jake cursing under his breath at Sunghoon’s words, while Ryujin nodded.

"Yeah, we were trying to sneak out of the kitchen before they noticed us, and then you had to go and yell Y/N’s name," Ryujin added.

"Oh," Sunghoon sheepishly nodded. "My bad."

"Does he have to fucking bring her everywhere?" Jake muttered, casting another glance towards where Heeseung and Karina were.

"You know, I even heard Jay’s getting sick of her tagging along everywhere."

"Where’d you hear that?" You shot Sunghoon a suspicious look.

“Gaeul.”

"She still hangs out with them?" Ryujin scoffed, clearly annoyed.

"She claims to be the neutral party between us."

“So she’s still being a fucking dumbass?” Ryujin shot back, clearly unimpressed with their friend’s stance.

"Well, she still reports everything back to us, so it's not all bad," Jake tried to reason, but Ryujin wasn't buying it.

From next to you, Yujin chuckled. "Your friend group is so fucking messy, thank God I'm not involved. I'm going to find Hyunjin for some weed. Good luck sorting out your drama." She shot you a wink before briskly walking away before anyone could respond.

"Are we really that messy?" Sunghoon asked innocently, but before anyone could answer, he vomited everywhere.

You were cursing under your breath as you tried to wash the puke out of your shorts, fuming at Park Sunghoon. Thankfully, they were black, so staining wasn't an issue, but standing in your underwear in a house party bathroom, scrubbing your pants instead of enjoying the night, was infuriating. Even if you managed to clean them, you'd be stuck wearing damp pants for the rest of the night.

As you wrung out the fabric, desperate to dry them as much as possible, the bathroom door suddenly swung open.

“Oh! Sorry— Y/N?” Heeseung’s eyes widened in surprise when he realized not only that someone was already in the bathroom but that it was you.

In your haste to escape Sunghoon's vomit, you must have forgotten to lock the door. Naturally, Heeseung had to be the one to barge in.

The two of you stood there awkwardly, each taking in the other's appearance. It was technically your first real encounter since your return, discounting the brief moment at your mother's garden party before Heeseung was promptly escorted away by his parents.

He looked way too good, enough to stir butterflies in your stomach. It was unsettling how Heeseung could still have this effect on you after everything that had happened.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted cautiously, breaking the silence. The tension in the room was palpable.

"Hey, Heeseung," you replied, unsure of how to navigate the awkwardness.

"Sunghoon was right," he blurted out abruptly, his words coming out in a rush before he could stop himself.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. "What?"

"I-I mean, he said... that you look even prettier now," Heeseung stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I mean, not that you weren't pretty before, but, um... yeah."

Your cheeks warmed at his unexpected compliment. This wasn't how you had imagined your first conversation with him after coming back would go.

"Uh, thanks."

A few more uncomfortable seconds ticked by before Heeseung finally seemed to notice your state. "Uh, what are you doing?"

You had completely forgotten about your current attire—just in your underwear, a lacy black thong that had driven Heeseung wild a few months ago.

"Oh, Sunghoon threw up on me after getting crossed," you explained, shaking your head in annoyance as you returned to wringing out your shorts.

"Again? Fuck, he really needs to learn not to do that. If he had a nickel for every time he puked on a pretty girl while he was crossed, he'd have two," Heeseung remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. There was no way you were actually laughing at your cheating ex’s jokes.

Heeseung seemed to relax a bit upon hearing your giggles, joining in with a laugh of his own.

"Here, let me help. There's probably a dryer around here somewhere," he offered, finally deciding to step into the bathroom as he closed the door behind him. He bent down, rifling through a couple of cabinets until he found what he was looking for.

"Fuck, I don't know why I didn't think of that earlier," you muttered, taking the dryer from him and plugging it in before switching it on.

He reached over to hold your shorts for you while you dried them. After a few minutes, you turned off the dryer, confident your shorts were dry enough by now. "Thanks," you said, taking them from him.

As you looked up at him, you suddenly became aware of the closeness between the two of you. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked with his.

Fuck he was hot.

You could feel the all-too-familiar warmth spreading throughout your body as the two of you held each other's gaze, neither daring to look away. Slowly, almost as if guided by muscle memory, you inched your faces closer until you could feel his breath on your lips, poised to kiss him. But a small voice in your head stopped you before you could fully lean in.

“Wait.”

Heeseung instantly pulled back. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"No, no it's not that. I can’t do that to Karina," you hurriedly explained, shaking your head. Tears threatened to spill over as the pain of Heeseung's past betrayal resurfaced. Despite any animosity toward Karina, you couldn't bring yourself to inflict that same hurt on anyone else.

"What?" Heeseung furrowed his brows, confusion etched across his face as he looked at you.

"Heeseung, you can't just fucking cheat on her after you cheated on me with her!" You shot him an incredulous look, unable to believe how close he had come to infidelity once again.

His head shook vehemently, confusion clouding his eyes. "What do you mean? If anything, you're the one who's cheating!"

"Jesus Christ, for the last fucking time, I'm not dating Jake!" You yelled in frustration.

“And I’m not dating Karina!”

The two of you stared at each other, mutual confusion now evident, leaving you both speechless.

“What?”

"Yeah, I'm not dating her! And what do you mean you're not dating Jake?" Heeseung shot back, equally bewildered.

"I literally saw her a couple of days ago, and she told me the two of you had been dating for a couple of months," you said, watching Heeseung shake his head in disbelief.

"What the fuck! She's fucking lying, we are not dating, let alone have been dating. That fucking bitch, literally what the fuck," Heeseung was beyond pissed.

You scoffed, equally heated. "Karina was literally rubbing it in my face about how happy you two were. And for your information, I have never dated Jake."

"What the fuck, Y/N? I fucking punched him!" Heeseung felt like he was going insane. Everything he had believed for the past few months was suddenly a lie.

You rolled your eyes at his outburst. "Yeah, I fucking know. I was there, if you remember! He still has a fucking split lip because of you, and my mom's still beyond mad about it."

You had to be lying, Heeseung couldn’t believe your words. “There’s no fucking way.”

“Yeah you fucking dumbass, you beat him up for nothing.”

“Wait, wait, wait no it’s still fucking justified! He was one of my best friends who went on and fucking slept with my girlfriend!” There was no way the two of you were actually having this conversation at a raging party after not seeing each other for three months.

"No, he didn't! Or at least not while we were dating, and I'm also not fucking pregnant!" Your voice echoed in the cramped bathroom. You were still intoxicated and could feel a headache coming on.

"Fuck you! Literally, everyone saw you two that night," Heeseung retorted sharply, but before he could continue, it seemed he fully absorbed your words, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "So you have been fucking Jake!"

"Yeah, but only after we broke up, not before! And you can't be acting all innocent when you've literally been with Karina!" You were annoyed by his accusatory tone. He was such a fucking hypocrite.

"Okay, but I didn't blatantly sleep with her at a party while we were still together like you did—"

You cut him off by smashing your lips against his, needing to silence him in any way possible. You couldn't stand another moment of arguing about this.

You could feel Heeseung freeze for a second, taken aback by your action, but he quickly recovered as you could feel his lips move against yours.

There was nothing romantic about the kiss as the two of you hungrily pushed back against each other, fighting for dominance. Teeth clashed against each other as your tongues battled back and forth and you could barely breathe, but it seemed that neither of you considered stopping anytime soon.

His hands quickly found themselves ripping your top off you as yours went straight down to undo his pants and push them down. You finally pulled away from the kiss to spit on your hand before going straight back into his lips. Not a second was spared to think about your actions as you didn’t hesitate to stick your hand down his underwear. He was already half-hard and you quickly wrapped your hand around his length, inciting a groan out of him.

While one hand worked on pushing down his underwear the other worked on pumping him. Heeseung was in almost the same state as one of his hands was found groping at your boobs, playing with your nipple, while the other also attempted to pull your underwear down.

As soon as your thong reached mid-thigh, Heeseung quickly broke the kiss to turn you around and roughly push you down against the bathroom counter. You jolted at the cold counter pressing against your already sensitive nipples but Heeseung pushed down hard on your back so you couldn’t lift yourself up. You looked helpless in the mirror and without warning you felt his dick plunging deep inside of you.

You gasped at the intrusion. Sharp pain erupted within you as tears welled in your eyes and you could do nothing except tightly squeeze them shut while your hands desperately attempted to grab at anything to hold on to. Heeseung had started to fuck you without even giving you a second to adjust and your cries filled the bathroom.

You hadn’t been fucked like this in so long and sure Jake was a freak in bed with a big dick but he had never considered fucking you before making sure you were prepped. No, this was Heeseung’s specialty. He fucking loved it and you couldn’t help but also find yourself loving the pain that came with his pleasure.

“Fucking slut, look at yourself,” Heeseung growled in your ear before roughly grabbing your hair and pulling it back, forcing you to face yourself in the mirror.

“Please, Heeseung,” you could barely moan out.

His hand gripped your hip so tightly that he knew bruises from his fingers were sure to be left afterward and his eyes were crazed as he battered himself even harder against your cervix, giving you no respite.

“What? What else could you want, I’m already fucking you. Greedy whore.” You felt yourself clench tighter around him as you heard his words. You were almost there as you could feel the tight coil just about ready to snap.

“Oh fuck, Heeseung harder,” you screamed.

Heeseung did just as you asked and as if it was possible, you felt him force himself even deeper inside you at a faster pace. You knew he was battering deep at your cervix, but you were too focused on chasing your orgasm that you couldn’t even care for the dull aching pain. His hand in your hair pushed your head against the mirror and you found yourself unable to stop yourself from drooling and fogging up the mirror. His animalistic grunts filled your ear and the grip in your hair got tighter.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You screamed out as the coil snapped and you felt yourself reaching your ultimate high. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you slumped against the mirror, having no strength to hold yourself up.

Heeseung was also close as you felt his cock twitch inside you and before you knew it, warm spurts of cum painted inside of you as you felt him thrust a couple of more times while he panted. He came so much that you could even feel some drip down the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck,” he breathed out as he slowly pulled out, watching his cum drip out of you and land on the bathroom floor.

You were still slumped against the mirror, attempting to catch your breath and process what had just happened.

As your eyes connected with Heeseung’s through the mirror, a rush of emotions overwhelmed you. The weight of what the two of you had just done bore down on you, and shame began to smother you, making you feel like you were suffocating. You couldn't stay there with him a moment longer. Quickly, you dressed yourself, doing your best to ignore the aching pain between your legs. Heeseung looked confused by your sudden change, but before he could say anything, you were out the door, leaving him to dwell on the implications of your actions.

You honestly hadn’t been listening to anything Ryujin had been saying for the past couple of minutes as she rambled on. Instead, you stared at the piece of salmon on your plate, analyzing each line that ran through the fish. If you didn’t focus on this, your mind would start drifting back to what happened yesterday, and you'd rather shoot yourself in the foot than think about that.

“Hey, Y/N, are you even listening?” Ryujin raised her voice, trying to get your attention.

Snapping out of it, you finally took your eyes away from your dinner and looked up at her. “Oh, sorry, I got distracted.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’ve been talking to you, and you went catatonic or something. What is up with you?” She furrowed her brows at your unusual behavior.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you quickly responded, but you knew the second she put her utensils down that she wasn’t buying it.

“Don’t fucking try to lie to me. I can see through your bullshit. What’s wrong?” Her gaze was intense, analyzing you as if there would be an external sign explaining your strange behavior.

You sighed, debating whether to tell her exactly what had happened. Deciding against it, you realized that if you opened that can of worms, things would get even messier. “Uhm, I don’t know, I guess I’m just still hungover.”

“You didn’t even drink that much yesterday, though,” she said, brows still furrowed. She had noticed you hadn’t come out of your room all day and had to literally drag you out just to get dinner with her.

“Are you sick? You don’t really look sick though.”

You shook your head, searching for anything to blame your odd behavior on. “Uhm, I just think I bruised my cervix, and it just hurts.”

Her eyes instantly widened, and you could see her holding back a grin. “Oh my fucking God, you slut. You had me thinking something actually bad had happened! When did you and Sim even run off to fuck?”

You sighed in relief, glad that she was distracted by the news you had just dropped on her. She didn’t notice the lingering look in your eyes that indicated there was actually something deeper driving you mad.

“Uh, quickie in the bathroom. I don’t know, you were probably too drunk to notice.”

She hummed while nodding. “Yeah, I’m not going to lie, I don’t really remember much after Sunghoon puked everywhere. But fuck, a bruised cervix from a quickie is insane. Oh, Yujin is going to love this.”

“Yeah, it’s a fucking bitch. I feel like I’m sitting on a knife or something,” you said. You weren’t lying about this part—you were sure Heeseung had actually bruised your cervix with how hard he fucked you last night—but you were fine letting her think you had slept with Jake instead.

“Oh, my poor baby. No wonder you’ve been in bed all day. Let’s just get this boxed up and head back to the apartment. Geez, I’m gonna have to have a talk with Jake later.” You flashed her a smile, nodding at her suggestion, glad that this not only got her off your back but also got you out of having to stay another thirty minutes at this restaurant.

Y/N (evil bitch) 👹:

if anyone asks we fucked last night kk?

JAKEY 🤢🦮:

wtf

Y/N (evil bitch) 👹:

no questions pls

JAKEY 🤢🦮:

fuck that what’d u do 🤨

Y/N (evil bitch) 👹:

none of your business go back to playing roblox with riki or something 🙄

JAKEY 🤢🦮:

THAT WAS ONE TIME

JAKEY 🤢🦮:

fuck you

JAKEY 🤢🦮:

tell me!!!!! you made it my business when you dragged my dick into whatever it is so i deserve to know 😤

Y/N (evil bitch) 👹:

i bruised my cervix

JAKEY 🤢🦮:

HUH

JAKEY 🤢🦮:

NO I’M NOT TAKING THE BLAME FOR THAT??

Y/N (evil bitch) 👹:

everyone’s gonna think you have a big dick

JAKEY 🤢🦮:

bet 🙂‍↕️

The rest of the weekend passed without Ryujin or anyone else probing into your life, and you couldn’t have been happier. There were so many moments where you debated whether or not you should reach out to Heeseung, but you quickly dismissed the idea. Besides, you had blocked him on everything, and you were sure he had done the same, so there would be no point in trying.

Distracted by thoughts of Heeseung, it had completely slipped from your mind that school was starting back on Monday. Last night (thanks to Ryujin of course), you hurriedly packed your school bag and made sure you had everything for the first day.

And while you usually enjoyed school, just from today, you already felt overwhelmed. It seemed that all your professors had decided to assign work and readings for the next class. You were already swamped with assignments, feeling the weight of the semester ahead.

“Okay, but don’t you think I at least deserve to know who you slept with?” Jake's voice cut through your thoughts as you walked through the library shelves, searching for a book your professor had assigned out of nowhere that wasn’t even mentioned in the syllabus. You had been barely listening to his yapping as most of your focus was on finding the book.

“Ryujin won’t stop talking my ear off about how I broke you and how you couldn’t move all weekend. She thinks I’m an ass and won’t stop scolding me like I’m the one who did it! I’m a gentleman—I’d never bruise anyone’s cervix without permission,” Jake said with an exasperated tone, trailing behind you.

“I’m pretty sure gentlemen, at least the ones i know don’t beg on their knees for anal-”

He cut you off, his eyes widening. “Alright, alright! That was one time and I was drunk. Jesus, woman! And don’t act like you didn’t let me do it—you were perfectly fine with it. Either way, I still feel like I should know who the fella is.”

“Please don’t say fella, it’s such a turn-off.” You scrunched your face at his choice of vocabulary, shaking your head before turning back to search for your book.

“Okay, fine, whatever. I just want to know who I’m protecting from Ryujin’s annoying ass, and honestly, I think Sunghoon overheard her, so now we can assume the whole school knows.” It was well-known that once any news hit Sunghoon, it spread through the school like wildfire. He had a bit of a loose lip and an affinity for gossip, making him the school’s personal Deuxmoi, but with none of the anonymity (maybe Perez Hilton was a better comparison).

“I’m serious, Jake, you don’t want to know. Just leave it. You owe me anyway.” By now, you were growing increasingly irritated with Jake’s relentless probing and the fact that you still couldn’t find the damn book.

He shot you an incredulous look. “Owe you for what? Now you’re just making up debts that don’t even exist!”

“Anal,” you replied without missing a beat, already smiling, knowing his reaction.

“Oh my God, Y/N, fuck you literally! Geez, if someone had told me this was the price I had to pay for putting it in the ass once, I wouldn’t have even touched it with a ten-foot pole,” Jake exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but giggle. You loved to mess with Jake, especially because he was always so overly dramatic and had the best reactions.

“Seriously, Jake, you don’t want to know. You did your job, so thanks, but please stop bothering me about this.” You flashed him an exaggerated smile and patted him on the head.

Jake’s eyes widened, and he stopped in his tracks. “No fucking way.”

“What?” You didn’t like how he was staring at you.

“Please don’t tell me you slept with Heeseung.” The smile on your face instantly vanished as you froze at his words. How the fuck did he know?

“No fucking way. You just slept with the enemy? Are you kidding me? Do you see this?” He gestured dramatically at his face. “This is the aftermath of my survival from his wrath and proof that I fought valiantly for you. And you go ahead and sleep with him? Oh my God, and you made everyone think I fucked up your vagina when it was actually him? Holy shit, wait until Ryujin hears about this.” You quickly reached over and clamped your hand over his mouth, realizing how absurdly loud he was being in the library.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re practically screaming! And what the fuck are you even talking about? Of course, I would never sleep with Heeseung.” You did your best to mask your surprise, hoping he wouldn’t catch on.

Jake shook his head, scoffing in disbelief. “You’re such a shit liar. The only other time I remember your cervix getting bruised was when Heeseung fucked you on that yacht last Christmas. Remember how you had a hard time sitting straight at Christmas dinner?”

Fuck, he got you there.

You sighed and reluctantly nodded, closing your eyes in frustration. “Okay, fine. But please don’t tell Ryujin, Sunghoon, or anyone else. I already feel like shit about it, and my self-worth is in the gutter right now. I’ve been sick all weekend just thinking about it.”

“He didn’t force you or anything, right?” Jake's face shifted to one of genuine concern, his brows knitting together.

You shook your head. “No, of course not. It’s just that I regret it so much. I felt so gross afterward. It was just a really, really bad drunken mistake, and I don’t want to talk about it. Seriously, thanks for covering for me. You’re literally the best because I really don’t want anyone to find out. I just want to forget about it.”

Jake studied you for a moment, clearly understanding how much this was affecting you. He nodded, reaching out to give you a comforting hug, which you gratefully returned while you let out a sigh. “Yeah, don’t worry. I won’t say anything. Just let me know if he tries anything else or if you need anything.”

The hug was comforting, a small balm for the turmoil of the weekend. You were relieved he didn’t press further or make you feel worse about what happened. However, as you started to pull away, a familiar voice sliced through the air, bringing with it an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Jake’s groan confirmed the arrival of the last person you wanted to see.

“In the library is kinky, but what can I expect from the two of you? Always so classy,” Karina’s smug tone cut through the air. You and Jake quickly broke from the hug, and you rolled your eyes as you faced her, already irritated by her presence.

“Are you stupid or like blind? Cause obviously if you weren’t then you’d be able to clearly see we were just hugging you fucking dumbass,” Jake snapped back, his tone sharp. Normally, you’d find his sass amusing, but Karina’s presence seemed to have sucked out any potential humor in the air.

“Jesus, Jake, you’re such an ass,” Karina snapped back at him before turning her attention to you. “Get your dog on a leash, would you? Maybe you should have been more careful about who you chose to have a kid with. The anger issues are seriously concerning with this one, not to mention the aggression. Heard about what happened over the weekend.”

“Karina literally shut the fuck up. You know damn well I’m not pregnant. It’s not even funny anymore; you’re just dragging it out. Just fucking mind your own business,” you snapped, your anger bubbling over. You could see Jake’s jaw clenched tight, his irritation matching your own.

“Well actually it kind of is my business 'cause Heeseung has been MIA all weekend, and I can’t help but wonder—since you’re such a slut—if you had something to do with it. The past few months since you two left were perfect, but the second you come back, everything seems to be fucked up. So tell me, what the hell happened at the party?” Karina’s sneer was almost unbearable, and you fought the urge to slap her.

“Maybe he finally realized what a fucking bitch you are.”Jake’s voice was laced with disdain. If Ryujin was Karina’s biggest hater, Jake wouldn’t be far behind her. Even as kids he hated even having to sit at the same table as her so his hostility towards her was all too familiar for you.

Karina ignored him as her glare remained fixed on you. Her pretty face now twisted into a deep frown and you knew she was pissed. It was a stark contrast to the fake friendliness she’d shown you just a week ago at the grocery store.

“I didn’t fucking do anything, and I don’t want anything to do with him, so fuck off. Seriously. Maybe Jake’s right—he finally realized how much of a clingy piece of shit you are,” you shot back, frustration evident in your voice. You should have known that Karina would notice Heeseung missing from her side for a good portion of Friday night.

Karina’s expression hardened as she took a step closer, unyielding. “You’re such a shit liar. What did you do?”

“This is bullshit. Let’s fucking go,” Jake said, grabbing your arm and pulling you away. Neither of you wanted to spend another second there.

“You know he said I did it better than you, right?” Karina’s taunt was intended to provoke, and it did just that. You froze, feeling her words hit hard despite knowing she was just trying to get under your skin.

“C’mon, let’s go. Don’t fucking listen to her,” Jake urged, tugging you along again. As much as you tried to ignore her, her words had a lingering effect, and you hated that they got under your skin.

You didn’t care that this was your last year in college; you were convinced that you needed to transfer anywhere far away from here. There was no way you could endure a whole year of torment from Heeseung and Karina. As if to cement this decision, today seemed determined to be the worst day of your life. The moment you arrived at your apartment, rage surged through you when you saw who was waiting for you in front of your door.

“I’m going to fucking call security,” you instantly snapped, pulling your phone out of your back pocket.

Heeseung’s eyes went wide as his hands reached out in front of him. “Wait, wait, wait! Please, Y/N.”

You stared up at him, his eyes pleading with you to hear him out. Those bambi eyes always got to you, and this time was no different. With a roll of your eyes, you slowly put your phone down. “Okay, but I swear to God, if you try anything—”

“I swear I won’t! I promise, I just really need to talk to you. I’ve tried texting you, but I think you blocked me,” Heeseung said, sheepishly scratching the back of his head.

“Fine,” you muttered before walking past him, opening your apartment door, and stepping inside. You left the door open, signaling that he could come in, but he seemed hesitant, staring at the open door.

“Are you coming in or not?”

He blinked a couple of times, surprised that you were allowing him into your apartment, but he quickly followed you in and closed the door behind him. He hadn’t been inside in so long that it felt almost surreal. Everything looked exactly the same, and he found himself realizing that he had kind of missed being here.

“Wow, nothing’s changed,” Heeseung remarked, his tone revealing his surprise, especially as he noticed the photo of the two of you still on top of the kitchen counter.

You followed his gaze and felt heat rise to your face. You didn’t really know why you hadn’t taken it down. “Uh, yeah, I mean, I also haven’t been here for like three months, so I didn’t really have time to change anything.”

Heeseung nodded, but as his eyes trailed back to you, he found himself staring, forgetting his words. You were as gorgeous as ever, but it seemed that the time away had only made him realize how even more beautiful you were.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” The air between the two of you was awkward, just like at the party however, seeing him sober during the day gave you a much clearer look at him, and you wanted to fucking die. You hated that effect he had on you.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, uh, I just wanted to check up on you. Friday was kind of intense, and you ran off before I could say anything, so I was worried. I’m sorry for being so rough with you. I shouldn’t have done that.” Heeseung had been beating himself up over how he had treated you, so much so that he hadn’t talked to anyone all weekend despite his phone blowing up with messages from his friends.

“It’s fine. It was something we both wanted, and if anything, it’s on me. I kissed you first, so I’m sorry for that.”

Heeseung shook his head. “No, don’t be sorry, seriously it’s okay, but uhm, I also just wanted to make sure you knew that I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t dating Karina. I swear I’m not.”

Your brows furrowed as you recalled the incident in the library a couple of hours ago. “Well, does Karina know that?”

“What?”

"She confronted me and Jake at the library, demanding to know what I did for you to ghost her all weekend." Heeseung frowned slightly at Jake’s name, and his frown deepened as he listened to what Karina had done. "From what it looks like, she seems to believe that your relationship is much more than whatever you’re saying it is."

“What the fuck? I swear we’re not together. I—” He stopped himself and sighed, realizing that to make you understand he was telling the truth, he had to tell you everything. “Fuck, I— Uh, shit, we’ve just been kind of hooking up, but I swear that’s all.”

He looked almost embarrassed admitting the nature of his and Karina’s relationship, and you could feel a part of your heart waver at what you heard. For him to admit out loud to you and confirm what you had thought was happening hurt despite you knowing that you didn’t have a right as you two weren’t together anymore.

“Oh, uh, okay.” You nodded as you quickly turned around and opened the fridge. You pretended to look around as if you meant to open the fridge before reaching to get the Brita out for water. You knew that if you faced him, the tear welling up in your eyes would pour down your face.

Heeseung went into a near-panic as he saw your reaction. Having dated you for over two years and known you for your entire life, he could tell you were upset. He noticed your shoulders tensing as you kept your back to him, looking into the fridge.

“Wait, wait, but I swear it’s nothing more than that, and I promise whatever happened between Karina and me is over. I don’t have any feelings for her—I never did. She was just there after you left, and it just happened,” he rushed to explain. But his words only seemed to make you feel worse as he continued to ramble.

“Why are you telling me this? You think this is going to make me want to get back with you?” You shook your head in annoyance, grabbing a glass from a cabinet and filling it with water from the Brita.

“No! I’m not trying to convince you of anything,” he said, now genuinely panicked. This was not how he intended the conversation to go.

“You know what she said?”

“Huh?”

“Karina, you know what she said?” He slowly shook his head, clearly confused by where you were going with this.

“She said that you told her she did it better than I ever did,” you snapped, your anger evident as you stared him down.

His eyes widened in shock, and he scoffed in disbelief. “What the fuck! I’ve never said anything like that to her or to anyone, and it’s not fucking true.”

“What? So she’s just lying to get under my skin?” You were fuming, frustration etched across your face. “Karina’s a fucking bitch, but even she wouldn’t just make something like that up. You must’ve hinted at something for her to believe it.”

“No, no, no, I swear I haven’t said or done anything remotely like what she’s claiming. She’s a fucking liar,” Heeseung's anger flared as he defended himself, clearly outraged at Karina’s audacity.

“Well, it still doesn’t change the fact that you ran straight to her bed the second I was out of the country—literally one fucking day after we broke up!” You huffed, clearly pissed.

“Ok well don’t fucking act like you didn’t do the exact same with Jake. What the hell, Y/N? It isn’t my fault we broke up! You literally slept with one of my best friends!” Heeseung's frustration boiled over, clearly bewildered that you were still trying to act like you had no role in ending the relationship.

“I’ve told you a million times that I didn’t cheat on you with Jake! What more do I have to say for you to believe me?” You were fed up with defending yourself on this issue.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, “Honestly, aren’t you tired of keeping all this up? Beomgyu’s video and Karina along with everyone else hearing about you two should be enough proof.”

“Oh my fucking God! Jake went into the bathroom with me to help because I was puking my guts out. I drank way too much that night because I was so upset after seeing my fucking boyfriend cuddling with some other bitch all night! You’re genuinely a complete moron if you think Beomgyu and Karina are reliable sources. Beomgyu’s been a fucking asshole to me since freshman year because he’s still bitter that I refused to sleep with him, and Karina has wanted to get with you for as long as I can remember. Seriously, I thought you had at least some common sense in you!” You were yelling so loudly that your throat was already starting to feel raw.

Heeseung shook his head in disbelief. He had no idea Beomgyu had even tried to make a move on you, and now that he thought about it, he realized there had always been tension between the two of you. While he knew about Karina’s crush on him, he hadn’t thought she’d actually go as far as to lie about this. “Okay, well people still heard you two together.”

“Fucking hell, Heeseung, it was a house party with a hundred people. You really think anyone could hear anything over the music? You know what, whatever—believe what you want. There’s no point in trying to convince you otherwise. I’ve been honest with you the whole time, and it’s been you who’s been unwilling to listen. You dumped me without even considering my side, even though you were the one neglecting me during that last month before we broke up, spending all your time with Karina. Honestly, even if you’re telling the truth about not sleeping with her before we broke up, it doesn’t change the fact that you emotionally cheated. The number of dates you forgot or canceled to be with her, and how many times I saw you two together on campus when you said you were just hanging out with the guys. Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re not together. Just get out.”

Tears streamed down your face, and you didn’t bother wiping them away. You wanted Heeseung to see the pain he had caused you.

Heeseung was at a loss for words as he saw the pain etched across your face. It broke his heart and he couldn’t help but start to realize that maybe there was a chance you were telling the truth and that he might be to blame for everything. He felt his heart crumble. “Y/N…”

You sniffed and shook your head. “Get out, Heeseung. I never want to see you again.”

It had been a week since Heeseung had gone over to your apartment, and every day since, he had been determined to find a way to make it up to you. He knew what your last words to him were, but there was no way he was going to let you go that easily, especially now that he realized he was most likely the one in the wrong and that Karina was a fucking bitch. He had come to that solid conclusion five days prior when he finally decided it was time to confront her.

“Oh my God, what the fuck? Seriously, where have you been? What happened? You literally just disappeared,” Karina ran over to him once she saw him at the café he told her to meet him at.

Even looking at her face made Heeseung want to vomit. “I heard what you did.”

Karina frowned, not understanding what he was saying as she took a seat across from him. “What do you mean?”

“Y/N told me about what you did at the library.” Heeseung tried his best to keep his tone even, attempting to mask the rage he was feeling toward her.

Karina nervously laughed, trying to brush it off. So, he was with you while he ghosted her. “Oh yeah, I ran into her and Jake trying to get it on at the back of the library. Isn’t that fucking insane, like in public like that?”

Heeseung wasn’t in any mood to entertain her. He was already at a boiling point. “Cut the fucking bullshit. She also told me what you said to her at the grocery store. I don’t know what I did to make you think that we’re dating, but we’re not. I don’t even remotely like you.”

“What?” Karina was taken aback by his words. Sure, Heeseung was never as affectionate and loving towards her as he was with you, but she thought she had made good progress in getting him to fall for her.

“Yeah, so I swear to God if I hear you telling anyone else that we’re dating, I will get a fucking restraining order. You have been nothing more than an easy lay for me to get my mind off Y/N this whole time. I let you hang around me because I felt bad, but that’s over now, especially since I realized you’ve been lying to everyone, including me, about everything.”

Karina’s face paled as she took in his words. She opened her mouth to say something, but he didn’t give her a chance. “Also, you’re delusional if you think you’re even comparable to Y/N, much less better than her. Go learn how to actually suck a dick before going around telling anyone that. Seriously, fuck off, and don’t ever talk to me or my friends again.”

Heeseung took off right after that, leaving Karina sitting alone at the table. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest as he stormed out of the cafe. Since then, he’d been planning a way to get you to hear him out. The only thing he could come up with was outsourcing, and in this case, that meant trying to reach you through the people you hung around.

It was a no-brainer that trying to talk to Ryujin and actually getting her to hear him out would be harder than getting you to talk to him again, so that was out of the question, which left him with only one other choice.

Just standing in front of the apartment was making him pissed, but he knew this was probably his best bet. He let out a big sigh before knocking loudly. He waited a couple of seconds, and after a bit, he wondered if he should knock again, but before he could, the door opened.

“What the fuck?”

Heeseung was the last person Jake would have expected to be on the other side of the door, and it caught him severely off guard.

Heeseung hadn’t seen Jake since he beat him at your mother’s garden party, and while it seemed that any previous marks left on his face from the fight were gone, Heeseung still felt bad. Okay, well, actually he didn’t feel that bad because he was still beyond pissed at Jake. Heeseung had by now come to the conclusion that you were most likely telling the truth about not cheating on him, but it still didn’t change the fact that Jake had fucked you who knows how many times after the two of you broke up.

Jake had always been a very close friend of his since childhood, and if Heeseung was being honest, in high school there were a good number of times when he couldn’t help but find himself envying his friend. It was kind of always known in your friend group that Heeseung had always had a tiny bit of a crush on you. So, when it became known that Jake had been the one to take your virginity, Heeseung was beyond crushed. In fact, he had avoided Jake for a good week, too envious of the fact that it wasn’t him who had been your first. But he was quickly able to get (mostly) over it as he couldn’t deny that he wasn’t surprised; you and Jake had always been the closest. But now, knowing that Jake had broken bro code made that resentment resurface, and he wasn’t sure if it was going away anytime soon (if ever).

“I need to talk to you,” Heeseung reluctantly said.

“Fuck no,” Jake responded with a condescending laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened as he pleaded, “Jake, please.”

Jake stared him down, scrutinizing every aspect of him, clearly enjoying Heeseung's desperation. “Why? Y/N told me what happened on Monday. You’re a fucking asshole.”

“You don’t think I don’t know that? That’s why I’m here. Just let me in,” Heeseung said, his patience wearing thin.

“What’s in it for me?” Jake crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. Heeseung could tell he was relishing the sight of him getting so desperate.

“You already got to fuck my girlfriend as many times as you wanted. Don’t you think that’s enough?” Heeseung gritted his teeth, his voice tight with anger.

Jake rolled his eyes but opened the door, letting Heeseung in. “You know she’s not your girlfriend anymore, right?”

If Heeseung wasn’t so determined to win you back, he would have had no issue punching Jake in the face again. But he needed Jake’s help, so he held back and tried his best it ignore him.

“I need your help,” Heeseung said, crossing his arms and facing Jake.

Jake barely glanced at him as he headed to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of what Heeseung assumed was a protein shake. He started to shake it, more focused on his drink, acting almost as if Heeseung wasn’t even there. “You’re funny if you think I’m going to help you with anything.”

Heeseung sighed once again, watching Jake’s dismissive attitude. God, Jake was such a dick. “I know I fucked up.”

“Yeah? Took you long enough to realize.”

“I need help getting her back.” Jake let out a derisive snort that he didn’t even bother to hide.

“Holy shit, you’re delusional. What makes you think I’d help you?” Jake’s laughter was infuriating, and Heeseung started to regret coming here.

“Jake, I know what I did. I know there’s nothing that can fully make up for it, but I need Y/N back. I’m begging you, man, I need your help.” Heeseung’s pride was at rock bottom, but he didn’t care. If this was what he had to let go of to win back the love of his life, so be it.

“You literally cheated on her. Why the fuck would I help someone who cheated on her try to win her back? You don’t deserve her.” Heeseung couldn’t deny it anymore; he had emotionally cheated on you, whether he intended to or not and it sickened him to realize that he was responsible for your pain.

“I know I don’t deserve her, and I also realize what I did and how I’m responsible for everything. I know now that the last month before we broke up was terrible for her, and I was a complete asshole. I didn’t mean to hurt her; everything just spiraled so quickly that I didn’t have time to process it. I swear I’m not trying to make excuses—there aren’t any. But the last three months have been hell for me. You don’t understand how empty I’ve felt, how much it’s all hurt. Hearing that you two came back together from wherever you guys were fucked me up so badly that I ended up taking it out on you, and I’m sorry for that—it was fucked up. But what I’m trying to say is that this whole summer has made me realize just how much I need her. Seeing her again has only made that clearer. I should have listened to her that night, but I was so blinded by anger about you two that I lost control, and you have no idea how much I fucking regret it. Talking to her last week made me see just how badly I fucked up, and I guess I was too caught up in Karina’s lies to accept the truth. I know I don’t deserve her, but please, I just need one last chance to make things right.” Heeseung’s sincerity was evident in every word, and Jake could tell that this was something Heeseung had been tormenting himself over for a while.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Jake said honestly. “I don’t even know how I can help. This is between you two.”

He hadn’t expected Heeseung to lay everything out so openly, and he was a bit taken aback. But Jake still struggled to fully support Heeseung. He knew how miserable and broken you had been after the breakup, and he wasn’t sure he could let you go through something like that again.

“I just need her to know that I’m sorry and to hear me out just once more. I know I don’t deserve it, but please. This was all I thought about this entire week, and I don’t know what else to do. I mean I came all the way over here to you of all people because of how desperate I am. I know you don’t owe me anything, especially after everything, but please, I’m begging you. Help me out, man.” Heeseung’s eyes were filled with desperation, and Jake let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Is Karina still in the picture?”

“Fuck no, and I made sure she understood. She’s literally the worst mistake I ever made, and I should’ve known better. I just didn’t think she’d take it this far, but I swear, there was nothing between us to begin with. She just caught me at a vulnerable time and took advantage of it. I fully acknowledge the mess I made in the month leading up to Y/N and me breaking up, and I know it’s probably too late now, but please, Jake. Y/N is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You of all people should know that, so I can’t just let this go without trying one more time.”

Heeseung couldn’t even lift his head to face Jake anymore, his eyes focused on his trembling fingers. The shame of his actions weighed heavily on him, and admitting it all out loud took a lot out of him.

A few seconds of silence passed, and Heeseung assumed Jake was deliberating. With each passing second, his anxiety spiked, and he desperately wished Jake would say something, anything.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but okay,” Jake said, his tone heavy with disbelief. Heeseung’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. “There’s no guarantee this will even work, but I’ll try something. Just know that I’m not taking this lightly. If you mess it up again, I’ll fucking kill you. I’m not kidding. The moment I see Karina anywhere near you, you’re dead. I’m only doing this because I know how much you meant to her and how miserable she’s been without you.”

Heeseung’s smile stretched so wide it made his cheeks hurt, but he didn’t care. “Thank you so much. Seriously, thank you, man. I really owe you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jake said, rolling his eyes at how excited Heeseung was. “But if Y/N isn’t having it, there’s literally nothing else I can do. So don’t get your hopes up.”

“No, I get it. Seriously, thank you so much. And I’m genuinely sorry for everything. It was fucked up for me to fight you like that.” Heeseung wasn’t sure if things with their friend group would ever return to normal, but he’d be lying if he denied that he missed having his friends around. A small bit of him kind of hoped this might be a step in the right direction of maybe getting everything back to normal.

“Yeah, whatever. I guess I kind of deserved it for sleeping with your girl,” Jake said with a hint of sarcasm.

Okay, maybe Heeseung wasn’t entirely fine with Jake being around like before as he felt one of his eyes twitch in irritation at the reminder of Jake being in your bed all summer, but he pushed the thought aside. “Just don’t make it a habit.”

“We’ll see. Don’t fuck it up.”

Heeseung felt another twitch in his eye. Maybe he wasn’t entirely over the idea of killing Jake Sim.

You had been sort of in a weird state of limbo where it seemed that a part of you was still wallowing in the sadness that came after the whole fight with Heeseung in your apartment but also there was also a part of you that was just kind of irritated with everything and you weren’t sure how to get yourself free from this state.

And it seemed the latter was taking over your current state as you let out a grunt of frustration as you attempted to hit the ball over the net, only for it to get caught and cause you to lose. Shouts of amusement came from across the court as you sneered in annoyance.

“Ha! Dinner’s on you! Oh, princess you fucking suck at this.” Jake was a little too happy about your loss as he giggled around the court.

Sweat drenched the both of you as the setting sun’s heat blazed relentlessly down the two of you. “You know that I’m usually good! You’re just better today I guess.”

You sheepishly shrugged before chugging your water from your water bottle on the side, the cold liquid instantly quenching your thirst. You were so ready to leave and get food.

“You just got unlucky that Sunghoon wasn’t here. There’s no doubt he’d be buying dinner. I’ve never seen someone worse at pickleball than he is.” You both let out a small laugh thinking about your mutual friend and his lack of athleticism.

"Yeah, honestly, I know he said he was sick or something, but I bet he just said that to dodge paying for dinner," you muttered, tossing your keys at Jake after packing up your paddle and balls. "You're driving, though."

He caught the keys without protest, shrugging as he followed you to the car. After unlocking it, he slid into the driver’s seat, immediately grimacing. “Jesus, what the fuck is this seat positioning?”

“Leave me alone, it’s my car,” you rolled your eyes, watching as he adjusted the seat to his liking.

“Too nice of a car for such a shitty driver like you,” he snorted, making you gasp in offense.

But before you could fire anything back, he quickly switched the subject. "So, who's Ryujin going on a date with tonight?"

"Some new European exchange student, I think his name’s Armand? Not sure, but I’m pretty sure he’s French."

"Where the hell is she finding all these European guys?" Jake shook his head.

Pickleball was usually a doubles match with you, Jake, Sunghoon, and Ryujin, but Sunghoon had bailed, claiming he was sick (though you weren’t convinced), and Ryujin was off on her date.

"I think he's in her finance class—or at least that’s what Yujin said. But yeah, she clearly has a type," you snorted, sending Ryujin a quick text to see how the date was going.

"That’s an understatement. I’m surprised she got over Louis that fast. And how the hell does Yujin still know everything about everyone despite being abroad for a whole semester?"

The circle you and your family had always been surrounded by was small, a natural outcome of the exclusive lifestyle the upper echelon of society led—one not easily accessible to just anyone. This circle was even tighter at your school, where everyone with status seemed to gravitate. As soon as someone new entered the fold, it took only a few days for word to spread, and soon enough, everyone knew everything about them, especially if they came from a similarly privileged background. So it was no surprise that even after studying abroad in Italy for 6 months, Yujin still managed to stay in the loop.

“You know you don’t actually have to be on campus to keep up with everything,” you sighed, rolling your eyes.

It was frustrating, sometimes even invasive, to know that every move you made was watched and analyzed, but it seemed to be the price you and your friends paid for the lives you led.

Jake hummed in agreement, and for a few moments, the car was uncharacteristically quiet. It was unusual—Jake was never one to keep his mouth shut, so his silence could only mean one thing.

"Ugh, what?" you groaned, turning your phone off and shifting your focus to his profile.

Jake shot you a brief look of confusion before turning his attention back to the road. "What?"

"Just spit it out." You knew all too well that when Jake went quiet, it meant he was holding back something important—and more often than not, it wasn’t good news.

He gave you another glance, this one doing nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach, before letting out a long sigh. "So, the other day, someone came to see me."

You raised an eyebrow, sensing that he was trying to drag this out. It couldn’t be good. "Oh my God, just tell me already. Who was it?"

Jake took a few more seconds before finally answering. “Heeseung.”

Your ex’s name was the last thing you expected to hear. “What?”

“Yeah, someone knocked, and when I opened the door, there he was, just standing there.” Jake’s slow pace was driving you insane—you just wanted him to get to the point.

“Just tell me what he wanted. Did he try to fight you again? Because I swear to God—”

“No! No, it wasn’t anything like that. He didn’t come to start anything; he just asked for a favor.” Jake nervously bit his lip, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. He clearly didn’t want to tell you what Heeseung was really after.

“Jake, just get to the fucking point. What did he ask for?”

“Okay fine, he wanted me to talk to you about maybe hearing him out again.” Jake grimaced as he revealed Heeseung's request, sensing that the silence on your end was not a good sign. “Ugh, please Y/N, say something.”

You didn’t know if you should be fuming or surprised. Maybe both. “What did you say?”

Your calm tone caught Jake off guard as he turned into the Thai restaurant you’d chosen for dinner, parking before facing you. “Okay, you can’t be mad, but I agreed.”

Your mouth opened in protest, anger filling your eyes, but he rushed on before you could interrupt. “Just listen. You know me—I wouldn’t agree to something like this, especially with him, unless I really thought he deserved it. After I listened to him, I could see how genuine he was. I know he was a dick on Monday, but he came to me desperate and genuinely sorry. He wouldn’t have approached me of all people if he wasn’t serious.I know how much he hurt you, but I also see how unhappy you are without him. This might not be the worst thing for you two. Plus, Karina’s definitely out of the picture—Heeseung looked furious talking about her and promised he wouldn’t associate with her again.”

You processed everything slowly, staring at Jake. “He hurt me so bad,” was all you could manage as you shook your head, struggling to accept what your best friend was telling you.

Jake’s eyes softened at your reaction. “I know, Y/N. He’s still a total asshole, but deep down, you know that not having him around hurts even more. I didn’t promise him anything, and I won’t ever force you to talk to him. Honestly, if I had my way, I’d keep him far away from you. But I know you, and I see how badly all this unresolved feeling is fucking with you. I don’t want that for you. So just know this is an option. It doesn’t have to be now, or next week, or even this month. But if you ever feel ready to talk to him again—especially now that it seems like you both understand what happened—he’s willing to apologize. I’ll even be there with you if you want.”

Jake was right, and you hated that. Deep down, you knew this unresolved pain would eat you alive. Heeseung had always been part of your life, and having him ripped away, even for just a couple of months, was agonizing. You didn’t know if you could just cut him out completely, so you slowly nodded. “Okay.”

Heeseung honestly had little faith that Jake would keep his promises, but he still held onto a sliver of hope. Yet, as the weeks passed with no word from you, that hope began to dwindle. After a month had gone by without any communication, he was on the verge of accepting that he had ruined the most important thing in his life. Just as he was about to let it go, fortune finally smiled on him: he spotted you outside, nervously biting your lip as you waited for his class to end. A grin spread across his face the moment your eyes met, and he walked toward you.

“Hey,” he greeted softly.

His smile made your heart race, and it was annoying to realize that he still had that effect on you after everything that had happened. “Hey, I was wondering if you were busy. I think I’m ready to talk.”

Heeseung mentally noted to give Jake the biggest thank you ever. Despite his doubts about Jake's ability to follow through, he couldn't be more grateful to be proven wrong.

“Yeah, of course. This is my last class of the day,” he said, eagerly nodding as you both walked out of the building.

“Oh great, I wasn’t sure about your schedule, so I was just hoping I got lucky and you were free.” The awkward tension between you was palpable. “Do you want to grab lunch? I can drive if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, that sounds perfect. Jay drove us today, but I’ll just text him that he doesn’t have to worry about me.” Heeseung couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face. It was amazing how much your presence lifted his spirits. You were like a ray of sunshine, and just being able to look at you felt pretty fucking incredible.

You shot him a small smile before nodding, leading him to your car. “Okay, perfect.”

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, with barely any words exchanged until you both placed your orders.

Knowing that silence would make everything feel pointless, you mustered the courage to clear your throat and initiate the conversation. “Jake told me you really wanted to talk to me again.”

Heeseung nodded without hesitation. “Yeah, I’m not going to lie, I really didn’t think he’d actually help, but I’m so glad he did. I hope you didn’t feel forced or anything—that’s the last thing I want. If you ever feel that way during this conversation, I would completely understand if you just walked away.”

You nodded, recognizing the sincerity in his words. It gave you reassurance about his intentions. “I wasn’t forced or anything, but it did take some time. Honestly, I didn’t want to hear you out again, especially since last time ended badly. But I’ve had time to think, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to do this, at least for myself, to move forward from everything.”

“I’m really glad you gave me a chance to talk to you again. Y/N, I know this might not mean much to you, but I truly want to say I’m sorry.” Heeseung sighed before continuing, “I’ve had time to reflect on everything, and I’ve realized that what I did was unfair to you and hurt you in ways I never intended. None of this was your fault, and I’m so sorry for putting you through that.”

Hearing those words felt like a wave of relief washed over your aching heart. It was as if you had been yearning to hear him acknowledge your pain, and his sincere apology felt like a crucial step toward healing. Yet, one lingering question held you back.

“Why did you do it?” you asked softly, almost afraid to voice it. You noticed Heeseung’s eyes soften at your words.

He sat in silence, contemplating your question. Why had he abandoned you during the last month of your relationship?

“I’m not sure,” he blinked, his brow furrowing in distress. “I know that’s not a good enough answer, but honestly, I don’t even think I understand it myself. I really don’t want this to sound like an excuse, but I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. That project consumed so much of my time, and unfortunately, that meant spending all those hours with Karina. It became a routine, and I thought it would help me finish the class with a good grade. I never stopped to consider if Karina had ulterior motives, and I’m so sorry—I never thought about how this would affect you.”

You were unsure how to process his words, but you appreciated his honesty and let him continue. “I didn’t mean to blow you off or prioritize the project, which ended up meaning prioritizing Karina over you. That was never my intention. I hope you understand that I never saw her as a replacement or thought she was better than you in any way, especially not romantically. I swear nothing happened between us until after you left for your trip. Even then, I was just so angry, and she happened to be there. She was only an outlet for my frustration, and I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but I can’t deny that something happened. I just need you to know that aside from the physical, there was nothing else with her.”

Heeseung grimaced as he admitted all this. The weight of his actions felt unbearable, and when he saw your face—so sad, struggling to hold it together—it made him feel even worse. He hated that he was the cause of your pain.

You nodded slowly, your chest tightening as you absorbed his words and another sigh left your mouth. “That last month was so unbearable for me. It was literally hell. You have no idea how many nights I spent blaming myself, thinking I drove you to another girl. But what hurt even more was the aftermath. I’ve known you for so long, and I never realized how much you meant to my life until you were just… gone. I felt so lost without you.”

“It was the same for me. Y/N, you’ve been the love of my life since we were kids. You’ve always been my dream and literally everyone around us knows how much you’ve always meant to me. I’ve dated around and hooked up with other people but at the end of the day, I just kept coming back to you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re my home. That’s why I had to take this chance—to see you again, to beg you to hear me out one last time.” His voice trembled, and a tear slipped down your cheek as you felt the weight of his desperation. Your heart ached, torn between the pain of the past and the flicker of hope in his eyes.

He reached over to take your hand in his, the warmth of his familiar touch sending a jolt through you. A small, hopeful smile broke through his anxiety. “I love you, Y/N. I truly believe you’re it for me. But if you need me to let you go, I’ll do it. I’d do anything to see you happy.”

“Heeseung…” The words barely escaped your lips before tears started streaming down your cheeks. You couldn’t hold back your emotions, even in this crowded place. His confession pierced through the defenses you had built, reaching deep into the empty spaces you didn’t even know existed. You remembered all the pain he had caused, the scars still fresh, and yet, despite everything, he was still your Heeseung. Your heart ached with the undeniable truth that he was your destined other half, and you couldn’t bring yourself to let him go completely.

In that moment, amidst the whirlwind of your emotions, the right path became unmistakably clear. You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your feelings shift into something resolute. With trembling hands, you squeezed his. This wasn’t just about forgiveness; it was about embracing the possibility of healing together. “I can’t let you go, not now,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Let’s find our way back.”

No one had ever warned you how difficult it truly was to rebuild something broken, even with someone you’d known your entire life. But now, standing on the other side of that struggle, as you watched the pieces of your relationship with Heeseung slowly fall back into place, you realized that every effort had been worth it. The awkward silences, the tentative steps, and the raw vulnerability—it had all led to this unexpected peace. Months ago, you would’ve laughed if someone told you not only that you’d be back together, but that you’d be more in love with Heeseung than ever before. Yet, against all odds, here you were—more sure of him, more connected, and somehow, more in love than you ever thought possible.

It had been two weeks since that lunch, two weeks since you both decided to give things another shot. Although hesitation still hung between you, trust was slowly rebuilding, and you could feel the progress with every passing day. The real breakthrough came when you got solid proof that Karina was no longer a looming threat. It seemed that Heeseung’s rejection hit her harder than anyone expected, leading her to pack up and flee to her family’s summer home in Lake Como. Word spread quickly that she was taking a semester off to “heal” from all the so-called negative toxicity, but honestly, you couldn’t care less. And it seemed that it wasn’t just you—everyone in your circle seemed to be rejoicing the second her plane left the tarmac, collectively exhaling as though they’d been holding their breath for months. Her departure felt like the final nail in the coffin of a drama that had dragged on far too long, and for the first time in a while, you felt truly free from the chaos.

You and Heeseung had agreed to take things slow, both afraid to fuck up the fragile foundation of your newly rekindled relationship. While you often found yourself holding back more than you were used to, the fresh start was also exciting, like falling in love all over again. The honeymoon phase was in full swing, and honestly, you were soaking it up. So much so that it seemed your entire friend group—finally restored, thank God (you were sure you’d even seen Jay shed a tear when he was reunited with Sunghoon)—was playfully revolting at how inseparable you and Heeseung had become. But despite the jokes, everyone was genuinely thrilled to see you two back together. Even the soft launch on Instagram stirred enough commotion that your mom called, confused. But you didn’t care about anyone’s reactions, because for the first time in a long time, you were truly happy.

“I’m surprised your little purse dog isn’t with you,” Yujin’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts as she appeared out of nowhere, making you jump.

“What?” You shot her a confused look.

“Heeseung! He’s like your own little purse dog these days. I don’t think I’ve seen you two apart since you got back together,” she teased, giving you a smug grin before snatching your drink from your hand and taking a big swig.

You snatched it right back, rolling your eyes. “That is not true!”

But the grin on your face betrayed you—you knew exactly what she meant.

Your half-hearted attempts to deny her claims were cut short when yet another voice chimed in, startling you once again. "Nah, Yujin's right. You two are capital C clingy."

"Stop sneaking up on me!" you groaned, shaking your head at both Ryujin and Yujin. They, of course, found your irritation hilarious. Before you could protest further, Ryujin also reached over and grabbed your drink, taking a long sip without hesitation.

"Oh my God, just take it!" you exclaimed, shaking your head in disbelief. You turned to grab a fresh cup, already resigned to making yourself another drink.

"But seriously, where is Heeseung?" Ryujin asked, glancing around the packed house, her eyes scanning the crowd for your boyfriend.

Jake had thrown a party to celebrate Karina’s dramatic exit, and it seemed like everyone you knew had shown up. His place was absolutely massive so it was insane to see the entire place bursting with people, not a single corner empty.

You shrugged as you added ice to your drink. "Not sure, I saw Jay dragging him out to the pool. I think they’re playing beer pong. You guys do realize we haven’t been together every second, right?”

Yujin scoffed. "You sure about that?t At least from what I’ve been seeing I’m having a hard time believing that."

“Yeah, babe, I don’t think there’s been a single day this week you haven’t been with him,” Ryujin added. But when she noticed a slight frown tugging at your lips, she quickly backpedaled. “But that’s not a bad thing! You guys are back together, and honestly, you seem so much happier and more in love. We’re happy for you.”

Yujin nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s cute. Almost sickeningly so. But seriously, we’re all just glad you two are happy again.”

Right on cue, you felt a familiar arm wrap around your waist from behind. You knew instantly who it was. “Aww, that’s so sweet, Yujin. Glad we have your support,” Heeseung teased, reaching out to fist-bump her.

"Were you out playing beer pong?" you asked, glancing up at Heeseung.

He nodded with a grin. "Yeah, Sunghoon and I absolutely annihilated Jay and Jake. Those two suck every single time, but they keep teaming up like they’ve got something to prove. Not that I’m complaining—it just means we keep winning. The loser had to admit the other’s dog was better, and Sunghoon had Jake practically in tears, saying Gaeul was superior to Layla. It was almost cruel. Layla’s literally upstairs, and he ran right up to apologize to her."

Ryujin snorted. "You guys are such kids. What kind of punishment even is that?"

"Hey, I’ll have you know that when it comes to Gaeul, I’d put my fucking life on the line for her!" Sunghoon appeared out of nowhere, clearly having overheard the mention of his beloved dog.

"Yeah, don’t mess with his dog. It’s, like, actually serious for him," Heeseung added, backing up his friend with a smirk.

You couldn’t help but smile. It felt so good to have everyone back together, the easy banter flowing like it always had. The boys, especially, had clearly missed each other. Things were a bit tense between Heeseung and Jake at first, but once Sunghoon and Jay rejoined the group, it felt like no time had passed at all. Of course, Heeseung wasted no time making it clear that you were off-limits now, even threatening that he’d shave Jake’s hair off if he so much as thought about crossing that line—and judging by Jake’s face, it was a threat he took seriously.

As Sunghoon passionately defended his dog, you felt Heeseung's arm tighten around your waist. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I don’t know about you, but I can think of something way better than listening to Sunghoon go on about his dog’s honor,” he whispered, his voice laced with mischief. “How about we check out one of the way-too-many bedrooms upstairs?”

The suggestion came with that familiar cheeky tone, and you didn’t need any convincing. Without a word, the two of you quietly slipped away from the group, who were still caught up in their conversation about pets. Heeseung was right—there were far too many rooms in this house, but luckily you knew exactly where to find a quiet, empty one.

Your body hadn’t even fully crossed the threshold before Heeseung captured your lips with a fervor you hadn’t felt since Hyunjin’s party. When you said that you and Heeseung were committed to taking your relationship slowly, you truly meant it. Sure, the two of you had made it to third base, but you had intentionally held back from rushing into sex, wanting to protect the delicate balance of your relationship. Yet, in that moment, it was clear that neither of you was opposed to going all the way. You both had been holding back for far too long.

Shutting the door behind you, he slammed you flat against the it as his tongue explored inside your mouth. You were panting against his lips as you reached for his clothes. It was obvious neither of you were particularly interested in taking it slow.

“God you’re so fucking hot,” Heeseung didn't hold back his groan as his hand pulled your top over your breasts and cupped one in his hand, groping it as he deepened the kiss. You scratched a hand against the nape of his neck eliciting another low groan from him while his lips trailed down from your lips down to your neck. His touches had never felt better and you were yearning to feel him closer and deeper.

While his lips worked their way down, you didn’t waste any time pulling your leather pants down, revealing the same pair of black thongs that you had been wearing the last time the two of you had sex and Heeseung groaned against your skin once he realized.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me.” You giggled at his response and quickly tugged him towards the bed, leaving behind a trail of clothes as the two of you continued to get rid of your clothes until you were left bare.

Your hands firmly gripped his shoulders once he had finally stripped and you pushed him down on the bed as you also went down on your knees. His mouth was slightly agape as his eyes twinkled at the realization of what was happening.

“I’ve missed your cock so bad,” you purred before letting a wad of spit fall from your mouth and straight on his rock-hard dick.

His eyes instantly rolled back when your hands wrapped themselves around his length and worked their way up and down, adopting a steady tempo. Your eyes never left his face as you held a determined look in your eyes, eager to please him.

“Fuck, just like that,” Heeseung barely managed to pant out as his eyes connected with yours.

You couldn’t hold back a smile. Knowing that your touches had him falling apart like this in pleasure had you growing overcome with lust. There was not a better sight than the one in front of you and you couldn’t break away from witnessing his every reaction even as you slowly started to lick his tip.

He was panting hard as he watched you lick up and down his shaft before swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip that was dripping with precum. And when you sunk down, allowing his dick to find its place in your warm tight throat, his hands went straight to the back of your head, pushing you further down and inciting you to choke on his length.

It’d been a while since you’d deep-throated anything and you felt the tears instantly prick at your eyes as you gagged around his thick cock. You concentrated hard, closing your eyes to ease your throat as you slowly started to bob your head.

Saliva escaped down the corners of your mouth as the tears were now fully escaping your eyes. The filthy sounds of you gagging filled the room along with Heeseung’s deep grunts. His hands were fully pushing your head down as he thrust up, yearning for you to take him deeper. You tried your best to swallow around his as you searched for air, but he was relentless and pushed you until you couldn’t take anymore and had to slap the sides of his thighs for respite.

“Jesus Christ, Heeseung!” You gasped for air before coughing when he finally let you go, realizing how brutal he had been treating your throat.

“Shit, sorry,” his eyes were wide as he reached for your face, pushing your sweat-drenched hair away from your face. “It’s been so long and you felt so good, I’m so sorry-”

“Shut up,” you shook your head as you pushed him back on the bed. You ignored his apologies and quickly got on top of him, ignoring the fact that you had just been brutally choking on your boyfriend’s dick.

You were already dripping wet and Heeseung’s eyes couldn’t take his eyes away from your glistening pussy hovering over his dick. His hands guided themselves to your hips and you slowly teased him as you rubbed the tip of his dick at your entrance.

“Please,” he pleaded desperately and that was all you needed to hear before you slowly sunk yourself down his length.

The two of you let out groans and you couldn’t help but heavily pant as you went lower, feeling him deeper in you. You felt so full that it felt like you could feel him all the way up your throat. Heeseung was massive and despite having loads of experience riding him, every time it felt like almost too much for you as your body felt like it was being stretched beyond its limit.

“Fuck, you’re too big,” you whimpered as you felt your body slumping over his, trying your best to get adjusted to his side.

His mouth found yours as he passionately kissed you while his hands found your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers. “You’re taking me so well princess.”

As he praised you, you found yourself slowly attempting to move your hips and before you knew it, you were moaning against his lips as you moved up and down his length. The pleasure was overwhelming and you couldn’t stop. The stretch still stung, but the pleasure that came with it was more than anything you could’ve asked for.

“Heeseung,” you moaned out loudly as his hips thrust up to meet yours, forcing you to feel him deeper.

The room was filled with your wanton moans that didn’t stop chanting his name and the sounds of his balls slapping roughly against your pussy. His grunts were getting animalistic and before you knew it, he had flipped the two of you over changing the position and taking over.

‘Oh my God!” You screeched as he moved your legs to hang over his shoulders, causing the new position to allow him to reach you deeper if that was even possible.

He relentlessly pounded against your sweet spot, “You feel so fucking good. Perfect pussy made just for me.”

His dirty talk had you whimpering and you found yourself reaching down for your clit quickly rubbing it, helping you reach your orgasm faster.

“I’m almost there don’t stop,” you instructed, and with a couple more hard thrusts, you found yourself loudly crying out as you found yourself reaching your peak.

You clung to him tightly as you rode out your orgasm and could feel him twitch inside you before also cumming closely after. He filled you to the brim with his cum as you limply laid there taking everything he gave you. Once he was finished, he slowly pulled out inciting a small whimper from you and you could feel all his cum slowly pouring out of you and down your leg.

Heeseung, seemingly just as worn out as you were, plopped right next to you before pulling you close to him, cuddling you. A huge smile formed on your face as you turned your head to face him and kiss him, someone pounded on the door.

“You two are so fucked for that! You do realize Layla’s room is right next door!”

Bonus:

It was unbelievable how fast time had flown, especially now, standing with all your closest friends in matching caps and gowns. You couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that you’d all made it through college in one piece, still tight-knit as ever. It was almost enough to bring you to tears—if you weren’t so distracted by how uncomfortable your dress had become under your gown. You kept fidgeting, trying to adjust it for a bit of relief.

“Stop wrinkling your dress!” your mother scolded, while busy straightening Jake’s tie.

“But no one’s even going to see the tie under the gown,” Jake whined, only for your mom to shoot him a stern look that silenced him immediately as she returned to perfecting his outfit.

True to her word, your mom had finally gotten Jake head to toe in one of her custom pieces (minus the cap and gown). “I don’t care if anyone sees it or not. You are not wearing one of my designs without it being flawless,” she insisted, focused on making sure everything was perfect.

You could hear the quiet snickers behind you, and without even turning around, you knew Sunghoon and Ryujin were loving every second of this. They had already survived your mother’s meticulous once-over and were now relishing in watching the rest of you squirm under her scrutiny.

"Yeah, come on Jake, stop being so fussy. You should be grateful she's even doing this for you," Heeseung chimed in, grinning. His playful jab at Jake was laced with just enough sweetness to win over your mom—or at least, that was the plan.

Your mom still hadn’t entirely forgiven Heeseung for the disaster he caused at her garden party, and her approval of your rekindled relationship was, at best, tentative. But it was clear she was slowly warming up, especially with the way Heeseung never missed a chance to flatter her.

“Alright, now you look presentable. Don’t you dare mess with it during the ceremony,” your mom finally declared, stepping back to give Jake a final once-over. She then turned her sharp gaze on the rest of you, making sure everyone else met her high standards.

You exchanged a glance with Sunghoon and Ryujin, who were both barely holding in their laughter. They clearly found your mom’s unofficial role as wardrobe enforcer far more amusing from the sidelines.

“Oh, you all look so beautiful,” your mother said, her smile softening in a way you weren’t used to. The warmth in her gaze caught you off guard, and suddenly, the stuffiness of your dress was the last thing on your mind. As your eyes met hers, the reality of the moment hit you—graduation day, surrounded by your closest friends, all of you about to step into the next chapter of your lives. You could feel the emotions welling up, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you took in the sight of everyone in their caps and gowns.

Heeseung, as if sensing your shift in mood, gently tugged your hand into his, threading your fingers together. He squeezed your hand and gave you a reassuring smile, grounding you just when you needed it most.

“Come on, let’s take a picture before we leave,” you suggested, grabbing Heeseung's hand and motioning to your friends.

Your group huddled close, arms draped over each other, laughter bubbling up as your mom snapped away on her phone. Heeseung’s arm stayed firmly around your waist, keeping you close while you smiled for the camera. The joy of the moment, the closeness of your friends, felt like the perfect snapshot of how far you had all come.

As soon as the last picture was taken, everyone started to drift toward the stadium for the commencement ceremony. You watched as the crowd began to gather under the soft glow of the setting sun. After a quick hug and goodbye to your mom, you turned to follow your friends toward the entrance gates.

Just before you could step through the gates, Heeseung gently pulled you aside, his fingers brushing your arm. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “I couldn’t have done any of this without you. I’m proud of us.”

His words made your heart swell, emotions bubbling up in a way that almost took your breath away. You looked up at him, your smile soft and full of everything you’d been through together. “I am too,” you whispered back, a mixture of relief and joy filling your chest. “We made it.”

The air was cool, a gentle breeze lifting the corners of your graduation gown as you looked at Heeseung, remembering how uncertain things had once seemed. But now? Everything felt like it was finally falling into place. The obstacles and heartbreak had only made you both stronger.

As the sun began to set, Heeseung took your hand again, just like in the room earlier. This time, though, he brought it to his lips, brushing a light kiss across your knuckles before pulling you closer.

“I love you,” he said quietly, and it wasn’t a grand declaration—just a simple truth that felt completely genuine.

“I love you too,” you answered, your heart full.

Standing there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the future didn’t seem so intimidating anymore. It was uncertain, sure, but with Heeseung beside you, you felt ready for whatever was next.

TAGLIST: @notevenheretbh1 @leov3rse @slut4hee @llvrhee @simjungwon @lhspeachie @sakanelli-afc @rayofsunshineeee @deobitifull @iwaplant @mheretoreadff @farashawhee @skzenhalove @venfl-ifw @jaehoonii @melonvrs @enhastolemyheart @rainyjy @cha0thicpisces @love-be0m @niniissus

#enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #heeseung imagines #fic: psily

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punk-sharkz-zero · 1 year ago

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i hate talking about dysphoria with cis ppl because they immediately clock it as body dysmorphia, and only as body dysmorphia. (i say only bc some trans ppl can and do experience both)

i can't talk about how i hate how my thighs make me feel/look feminine because they always say "but you look fine!" or "i think you look amazing!" or "but you should love them!"

and it's so hard to describe dysphoria, especially to ppl who don't experience it, or who don't want to understand it isn't dysmorphia

and no matter how hard you try to explain they always try to make you love this body you have because "you should love yourself as you are!"

but i do love myself. but not quite exactly how i am. i love what i know I can be. i love knowing that one day i'll have top surgery scars i can trace with my fingers and a scratchy beard from T. i love knowing that I can eventually do my silly little effeminate gestures without hating how it makes me look. i love knowing that eventually i can look in a mirror and grin at the man i've become.

but that's not right now. i may cry a little when a shirt doesn't fit the way it should, but i don't hate the body that makes it that way. I may feel a pit in my stomach when I realize the way that i'm standing makes me look girly, but i don't hate that i'm standing that way.

i don't hate that i used to be a girl but i hate when people still think i am.

i don't hate my body, i just hate how it isn't what it's supposed to be quite yet. could that make any sense to the cis folks reading this?

I am trans and I love my body, just sometimes it doesn't love me back. and one day it will.

#thoughts by shark #tw dysphoria #gender dysphoria #dysphoria #lgbtq #lgbtqia #transgender #trans #trans man #transsexual #transmasc #trans ftm #trans boy #tw body talk #trans positivity #trans posting

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obsessedwithceleste · 11 months ago

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Til It’s Gone

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this cute lil request 🤗

Summary: It seemed like they’d always been there. An ever-growing thorn in Theodore’s side. He really didn’t realize what he’d had until it was gone. (Happy ending I swear)

word count: 3.2k

Theo let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his seat, ignoring the cheery smile on your face as you turned to face him.

“Hi Theodore!” You chirped brightly, gaze landing on the tall brunette boy coming to sit next to you.

Salazar, here we go, Theo thought bitterly.

“Theo.”

“Right. Theo. How was your day?” You continued on, seemingly oblivious to his indifference as you scribbled mindlessly on your parchment.

Theodore wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite in fact. He knew you liked him. That much you’d made rather obvious. Especially as of late. If saving him a seat everyday in this miserable class didn’t make it clear to everyone that you had a certain affection for the boy, then the notes dropped in his bag, or kisses blown from across the Great Hall certainly did.

The only reason Theo even accepted sitting next to you was because the seat was positioned perfectly to be just outside of Professor Binns’ field of vision, saving him the work of pretending to care about whatever topic the professor was rattling on about.

“I don’t see why you even put up with it all,” Mattheo often said. “Just reject them and move on with it.”

“Or at least stop sitting with them. You’re only encouraging them,” Enzo would add.

Yet, here he was, still sat lazily in the seat next to you. Theo didn’t particularly care that you fancied him to be quite honest. He’d gotten used to the same pattern of stoically ignoring your chatter, copying your carefully organized notes, and leaving. So long as you weren’t too annoying, he didn’t see the harm in sticking around. Besides it’s not like you weren’t easy on the eyes. And he supposed there was something to be said about the confidence with which you acted that set you apart from the general hoard of girls harboring similar feelings.

“Theo?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine.” He replied tersely before turning once more to stare blankly ahead.

He’d changed his mind. Absolutely not. This was horrible. At this point, Theo wasn’t even sure if you actually liked him, or were only claiming you did as an excuse to see how much you could embarrass him.

“Mate, this is getting to be Weaselette levels of weird,” Draco said as their group stared in horror at the third year who had approached them warily in the halls with a poem to read aloud in hand.

Theo visibly shuddered, remembering the awful valentine the youngest Weasley had sent Saint Potter a few years prior.

“Save everyone the embarrassment and walk away now, kid,” Draco told the boy. “Go on. Scram.”

The third year didn’t need to be told twice and quickly darted off, away from the group of Slytherin boys.

“It isn’t even 8am mate. Where does that girl get the time to do all this?” Enzo grumbles as they made their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Theo simply ignores his friend’s comments, something he was getting used to doing, as they all sat down at their usual table.

They’d all seemed to have an opinion on you as soon as it became apparent that you had developed a crush on him, and Theo had just about had enough of his friend’s seemingly endless comments regarding his not so secret admirer.

The familiar small parcel tied neatly with a white ribbon that sat waiting for Theodore in his usual spot didn’t go unnoticed, starting the whole thing up again.

“For Salazar’s sake Theo, do you not find it creepy?” Draco asks, eyeing the package.

Theo rolled his eyes at his dramatic friend.

“I don’t care. You all seem to be more interested in y/n’s little stunts than I am, and I’m the one they’re intended for. They’re harmless. Just leave it and they’ll probably get bored eventually.”

“Yeah, or they’ll just keep it up thinking you’re playing all hard to get or what not,” Mattheo snorts.

Theo just glares at his friend, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Just behind Matt’s head, seated at a table with your own friends, Theo sees you blow a kiss his way, winking cheekily.

“Aw, they growing on you? Who would’ve thought dark and broody would be into golden girl herself,” Mattheo teases, earning him a sharp kick from under the table.

“Morning Theodore,” you greet, as the brooding boy once again took his seat beside you, this time in potions.

“It’s Theo.”

“That’s what I said.”

You hear the boy let out a small snort and you smile to yourself. That was one of the biggest reactions you’d been able to get out of the boy.

Your friends often wondered why you so insistently pursued the grumpy Slytherin boy, despite his general apathy towards you, and honestly, it was as simple as the fact that you enjoyed the challenge.

It was like your own little game of cat and mouse. Constantly finding little ways to make the boy smile, even if he didn’t realize it was you. And the rush of excitement you got anytime you were able to elicit any sort of reaction from the boy was like a drug that kept you coming back for more.

You’d found that the best way to elicit such reactions was by staging little acts of public affection whether it be a kiss sent his way or an origami note perched on his desk. Each time, you could see the heat rise softly in the boy’s cheeks as he tried desperately to keep it at bay, sometimes even fighting back a small smile.

Today you had come to class a bit early in order to set up both you and Theo’s potion stations before the brown haired Slytherin arrived, taking extra care to gather enough ingredients for each of your potions. You weren’t even sure he realized that you were doing all this for him, but watching his satisfied smile as he brewed away made it worth it.

That was another thing you had grown to appreciate about the boy. While his friends were all rather light-minded and rowdy, his wit and level-headedness balanced out the group. Theo was smart, and didn't feel the need to make a point about it, flying under the radar of many of your classmates when it came to who had the best marks. Sure it was fun to tease the boy, but you also had a certain admiration for him that went deeper then the nonserious way you often conducted yourself around him.

The rest of the class passed in a sort of agreed upon silence as you worked on your potions. Of course you’d like to talk to Theo a bit, but you’d found he’d preferred the silence, usually not uttering more than a few words to you per class. It was something you could work on eventually you supposed.

“See you later Theodore,” you said brightly once you had finished gathering up your things. Joining your group of friends, you toss one last wave over your shoulder at the boy, smiling to yourself. He hadn’t bothered to correct you for once.

The last thing Theo expected while roaming the dusty shelves of the library was to hear his own name being whispered from deeper within the maze of books he was searching through. The library was where he went to escape his friend’s incessant gossip about the rest of the school’s population, yet he was interested in what was being said about him. He didn’t often venture outside his usual group of Slytherins, so he didn’t know exactly what he expected to hear.

Following the loud whispers, Theo stopped, looming in the shadows once he was able to make out the dark figures of students huddled in one of the many rows of books.

“Sure Theo might be one of the most attractive boys in our year, but his head is so far up his own arse, it’s a wonder he can see straight.” A voice practically snarled as its owner leaned lazily against one of the shelves.

Theo felt himself immediately tense. Is that what they thought now? His fists clenched as he refrained from crashing through the shelves to give these snots a piece of his mind.

“Honestly, being an arrogant prick isn’t something to be proud of. He’s just like every other Slytherin who makes being a pure blood their only personality trait.” Another voice adds.

“Oh fuck off you two.”

Theo’s ears perk up, surprised to hear your voice join the chatter.

“Please, like you’re one to talk y/n. You’re practically blinded by desperation. Theo Nott is an utter prat and he treats you like shit. Have some bloody self respect.”

“I’m not desperate, you git. And Theodore isn’t an arrogant prick. There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of pride. It’s not like you see him going around bragging about how amazing he is. If you’re going to talk about arrogant pricks, talk about Cormac. Or Draco even.”

“Whatever. That still doesn’t excuse his behavior towards you. I don’t understand why you insist on embarrassing yourself when he clearly has no interest in you. But he’s too much of a coward to say anything.”

“Oh for the love of- Theodore doesn’t owe anyone anything. Me included. I do the things I do because I can and I want to, and quite frankly it isn’t anyone else’s business but my own. So why don’t you two get your heads out of your own arses and stop worrying about me, and stop worrying about Theodore.”

With that, Theo listened as your footsteps slowly got quieter as you stomped away, your words ringing in his head.

Theo had never been in love before. But in that moment, he was beginning to see the appeal. Fuck that was hot as hell.

For Theo, it all spiraled down from there as he finally began to see you. Really see you. And not just as some girl who had a silly crush on him.

It started with the notes. He hadn’t noticed before, but it wasn’t just him that you’d slip a note to in the hallway. After one particularly difficult transfiguration exam, Theo watched as you dropped a note with a chocolate candy attached into the bags of your friends.

Another day, he arrived to potions early to find you carefully setting up his station as he hovered in the doorway. After class, he didn’t rush out like he normally would and instead watched as you quietly slipped an extra copy of your notes to a student he knew struggled with the class.

And while you weren’t exactly blowing kisses to all of your friends across the Great Hall, Theo began to notice the way you didn’t hesitate to throw your arms around your friends, hugging them tightly when you got excited. Or grasping onto a hand as you wandered through Hogsmeade, arms swinging in carefree bliss.

It was about a month after Theo had begun his silent observations that he began to feel it. The slow pull away as your presence began to fade from his life. He almost didn’t notice at first. It had been about a week since he’d last found a note in his bag, or parcel waiting for him on his seat. You still smiled brightly at him if your eyes met from across the Great Hall, but now that he thought about it, Theo couldn’t remember the last time you’d blown a kiss his way.

It all came to a head the day Theo walked into History of Magic to see one of your friends sitting next to you in his usual seat, chattering away.

“Nice mate, they finally get the message?” Mattheo asks with a grin, elbowing him in the ribs.

Theo remained silent as he followed his friend to a seat in the back, eyes not leaving the spot where he should be sitting.

It continued on like this for what Theo thought was eternity. Salazar he missed you. Weeks passed filled with sleepless nights where he would stare at the ceiling contemplating where he had gone wrong. At the very beginning really, he thought dryly, remembering his initial feelings of agitation and annoyance. He wished he could go back and give himself a good smack upside the head.

The day Theo passed you in the hall and you didn’t even spare him a passing glance was the day Theo finally broke.

“Lorenzo.” He said, slamming the door of their dormitory open, startling his roommate.

“Theodore?”

Theo glares at the use of the name.

“You’re the romantic type. How do I do it?” Theo asked as he stomped his way over to his bed.

With a bemused look, Enzo swings around to look at his roommate, wondering if one of the ghosts had somehow possessed him.

“You want to know. How to do romance?” Enzo asks slowly, not fully believing he’d heard his friend correctly. Theo was probably one of the most emotionally detached people he’d ever met.

“Yes. Y/n. I want to make it up to her.”

"I thought we didn't like her?" Enzo said, growing more concerned for his friend's mental state by the minute.

"We didn't. But now we do, and I want to make things right."

Enzo blinked. Oh this was not going to be easy.

As you sat in the court yard with a group of your friends, textbooks in hand as you attempted to study for the charms test the next day, your eyes flickered momentarily as a sea of green wandered by. Quickly you look away before your eyes could meet Theo’s and you try to turn your attention back to your friend’s idle chatter.

It had been what? A month since you’d stopped actively seeking out the boy’s attention. Maybe more. And you missed him. His sarcastic smiles and pretty eyes that seemed to be fixed in a permanent glare.

But you were also tired. Mostly tired of the snarky comments. “Have some self respect.” “So desperate.” The voices of your classmates echoed in your head, and eventually you began to draw back. You knew he’d noticed. You’d seen his eyebrows furrow in confusion that day you’d let your friend sit beside you in class. A pang of guilt washing over you. But it’s not like he showed any signs of wanting things to go back to the way they were. So you simply stayed away. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted all along.

Your thoughts followed you as you eventually made your way back to your dormitory, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself up in a warm blanket and disappear. As you approach your bed however, you make out something that definitely wasn’t there when you’d left that morning. A gorgeous bouquet of little white flowers wrapped in thick brown paper, tied off with a silky emerald green ribbon. Stamped on the corner of one of the brown folds, the letters TN shown at you in gold curls.

“Oh those are beautiful!” Your roommate gasps when she sees the flowers. “Lily of the valley! Those can symbolize renewal ya know. Usually they’re given as like, an apology of sorts, or if someone wants to start over.” She tells you. Ever the herbology buff. “Who are they from?”

A smile grows on your lips as her words sink in and you press the flowers close to your chest.

“Just a special friend,” you reply.

After all the months of Theo's coldness towards you, you'd never quite allowed yourself to truly believe the boy would ever return your affection, but maybe things were beginning to look up.

Over the course of the next several days, you begin to notice little things that had Theodore’s name written all over them.

After the charms exam the following day, you find a note of encouragement written in Theo’s familiar scrawl dropped in your bag along with a bag of your favorite toffees. How he’d managed to get it there without you noticing was beyond you.

There were little things too. Your stations in herbology and astronomy were always set up and waiting for you when you walked into class. The book on ancient runes that you’d been searching for showed up on your bedside table. (You weren’t sure how he was doing that either, but you weren’t about to question it.) And there always seemed to be a comfortable smirk on Theodore’s face whenever your eyes wandered over to where he sat with his friends, eyes seemingly boring into you.

Now, you sat quietly in your own little nook of the library, quill in hand as you scribbled away at your ancient runes essay, the book Theo left you being quite helpful.

You were happy he'd found his way back into your life, happier still that he was actually making a point to be included in your life.

“You don’t mind do you?” A voice asks, startling you and causing ink to splatter against the parchment.

With shocked eyes, you look up to see Theodore standing next your table as if your thoughts had summoned him there. He sets his books down, frowning at your now ruined paper.

With a flick of his wand, the mess is gone.

“Sorry bout that,” he mutters, sitting down across from you.

You blink, not entirely convinced you’re not hallucinating.

“You know, I remember you being much more talkative,” he says, a sly smirk reaching across his face as you realize you’ve yet to say anything to the boy.

“I remember you being significantly less talkative,” you blurt out before quickly covering your mouth with your hand in horror.

To your relief, the boy in front of you lets out a low laugh.

"Fair enough. See you've been liking the book," he says, gesturing towards the open text.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to say something, thank you."

"Don't worry bout it. I never said thank you for all the things you did. Probably should've." He replies, looking down as he pulls out his own quill and parchment. "I am sorry by the way."

"For?" You ask, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"Everything. Or for doing nothing is probably more accurate," he says, flipping open his text book.

You can tell that he's nervous as he fidgets with the corners of the book's pages, and you desperately want to ease the tension between the two of you.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you debate whether or not to say anything more, or go back to your essay. Finally, you look up at the boy that you had been chasing after for all these months, and remind yourself that he had actually been the one to go through all the trouble of seeking you out tonight.

Gathering your courage, you open your mouth to speak. "Theodore?"

"Yes, Bella?" he replies, eyes carefully following the lines of next.

"Would you like to join me in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

His eyes snap up at this, and you see the familiar hint of red make it's way into his cheeks once more.

"Only if I can have my seat back in History of Magic." The boy replies.

"I think I can have that arranged."

Hi hi hi! I hope this lives up to all of your hopes and dreams, anon 🫶🏽

#slytherin boys #harry potter universe #slytherin #theodore nott #lorenzo berkshire #matteo riddle #mattheo riddle #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott x y/n #Theo Nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theo nott fanfiction #Spotify

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girlgenius1111 · 5 months ago

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casts, broken arms, & snuggles

alexia putellas x reader - part of the mila verse :)

an accident at the park pulls alexia from training and to the hospital, where she finds both her girls not doing their best. everyone is very overwhelmed with their feelings, and maybe don't handle it the way they should. basically, protective panicked alexia and insecure reader. a bit of angst / injuries / concussions symptoms, mostly fluff.

------

You knew Alexia would panic. There wasn’t much you could do about that. Especially not when the only way you had to reach her was through the staff. It was somewhat of a bad omen within the team, having a staff member walk outside with a phone call for you. It only happened in an emergency, and unfortunately, this definitely counted as an emergency. When one of the assistant coaches, Xavi, answered the phone, he seemed to be on the same page as you.

“Try to act calm, otherwise she’ll just freak out.”

“I am not sure there is much I can do to avoid her having a nervous breakdown.” Xavi stated. You heard him call Alexia over, and tried to shush the very upset almost 3 year old in your arms.

“Amor, what is wrong?”Alexia asked, practically tearing the phone out of Xavi’s hand as soon as she heard who was calling.

“Everything is fine, okay? There was just a little accident.” You began, speaking in a soothing, calming tone, the same one you’d been using on the baby.

“What kind of accident?”

“Meels fell at the park-”

“¡AY DIOS MIO!” Alexia shouted. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Ale, breathe. She fell off the slide and I think her arm might be broken. She won’t let me touch it and she hasn’t stopped crying.”

“Broken?!” Alexia squeaked.

“Ow.” Mila whimpered, frowning unhappily at her arm from where she sat in your lap. “Hurts, Mama.”

“I know, baby.” You told her. “Ale, the ambulance is here to take us to the hospital do you-”

“What were you doing? Were you not watching her? Why weren't you watching her, why did she fall?” Alexia snapped.

You bit back the retort you had ready, knowing this was just a result of her fear for Mila. You weren’t happy with what she’d said, but that could be dealt with later. “We’re leaving now for the hospital. Meet us there.” You said coldly, before hanging up the phone without saying anything else. Alright, you were pretty upset, and you let it show. You had already been beating yourself up for what had happened, thinking the things that Alexia had said.

As you and Mila got loaded into the ambulance, you realized you hadn’t mentioned something important to your wife. No doubt, she was hauling ass to the hospital, so she’d find out soon enough.

-------

Alexia burst into the room in a flutter of chaos, throwing the curtain aside and looking around frantically. Mila was sitting in your lap, holding her arm awkwardly away from her body, while you ran your fingers through her wavy brown hair and tried to keep her calm. Both of you looked at Alexia when she walked in, her panic clear on her face. She was sweaty, still in her training kit, and her eyes were only on her daughter.

“Mila, mi bebé,” she said gently, moving closer to the bed.

“Mami!” Mila cried, a pout on her small face, holding her arm out for Alexia to see. She squirmed in your lap, trying to get closer to your wife, but you both made sure she stayed carefully where she was.

“Pobrecita,” Alexia murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed and pressing repeated kisses to her baby’s head. She stared hard at Mila’s already swollen arm, trying to stifle her own tears. You weren’t pleased with Alexia, but you weren’t particularly upset that she hadn’t even glanced at you, her attention fully on Mila. “What happened?”

Mila’s voice wobbled as she began to talk, reaching out with her good hand to grip onto a few of Alexia’s fingers.. “Fell! Off the slide. Mama tried to catch me, but now she has an ouchie too.”

Alexia’s eyes flew to you, seeing for the first time the towel and large ice pack pressed to the back of your head. Her heart sank. She knew before that she would have to apologize for what she had said, and now she knew she’d have to do even more groveling. Especially if the hurt look on your face was any indication.

“Amor,” she sighed, reaching for your hand. You pulled it away, refusing to make eye contact with her.

“I’m fine.” You dismissed. “Mila’s got a basic fracture, just a month or so in a cast to fix it. They’ll be in to put it on soon.”

“Mama needs stitches.” Mila whispered conspiratorially to her Mami.

Alexia’s face grew, somehow, even more upset. “What happened, mi amor?”

Still avoiding her eyes, you spoke quietly. “I was going to catch her at the bottom of the slide, but she stood up at the top and fell off the side.”

“And your head?” Alexia asked, leaning closer to try and inspect your injury. Mila looked up at you with concern, her expression matching her Mami’s almost exactly. Where Alexia’s fingers were gentle as they cradled your head, Mila’s were clumsy and clunky as she tried to run her fingers through your hair. It was something you did to make her feel better, and she thought that maybe it would make your frown go away, too.

“I tried to catch her in time, but I slipped and hit my head on the edge of the slide. And I didn’t really catch her.” You admitted, slightly embarrassed at that fact. Alexia would have caught Mila, you were sure.

“It’s okay, Mama, you tried your best!” Mila said encouragingly, parroting back something you and Alexia must have told her a hundred times. Her arm temporarily forgotten, Mila shifted so she could lean up and press a kiss to your cheek, before she snuggled closer to your chest.

Your wife’s eyes were stuck on your daughter, practically turning into hearts as she took in how sweet and caring her baby was. You couldn’t blame her; you felt the same. That you had created such a perfect little person would never cease to amaze you.

“Thank you, my baby.” You mumbled, wincing slightly as you shifted, trying to keep Mila’s arm in a safe position. Every movement of your upper body sent waves of pain through your head, but you didn’t want Mila to know how upset you were.

“Mi amor, I-”

Whatever Alexia was about to say was cut off completely as the doctor entered the room, introducing herself to your wife, and beginning to talk Mila through the process of getting the cast put on. There were some tears, wiped away quickly by her Mami, as they began to wrap up her arm.

Once the nurses had taken over, and began adding the colored plaster to the cast, and Mila was suitably distracted, the doctor regarded you.

“Alright, let’s get that head wound taken care of.” She said kindly, motioning you over to a chair in the corner of the room. She stood by your head, beginning to clean the wound and prepare to stitch it up.

You shut your eyes tightly, trying to keep your wincing to a minimum. Alexia watched on worriedly from her spot next to Mila, knowing how much you hated needles. The midfielder so wanted to comfort you through this, but she also didn’t want to leave Mila alone if she was still upset. So, she did what you’d spent many years helping her do, and communicated.

“Milabear? Can I go hold your Mama’s hand while she gets her stitches?” She whispered, heart melting at how Mila looked over at you, and nodded enthusiastically.

“Go help Mama.” She said bravely, feeling much better now that she had her red cast on her arm, and that the nurse had given her some goldfish. Mila munched away happily, her eyes trained on the TV hanging on the wall, and Alexia had never been more grateful for having such an independent and resilient child than she was in that moment.

Your eyes were still shut, a few tears escaping as you tried very hard to act like the adult you were. You startled a bit when Alexia crouched in front of you and took your hand. Opening your eyes, you tried to breathe deeply, feeling the doctor begin to thread the needle through the skin of your scalp. A small, rather pathetic whimper fell from your lips, and Alexia brought your hand to her lips, pressing kisses to the back of it. Her adoring gaze only made more tears fall, and you felt completely ridiculous.

“You are okay, amor. It will be over soon.”

Every tear that fell was gently swiped away by your wife. The doctor worked as carefully as she could, but there were still tugs on your skin that had shivers running down your spine, and your stomach churning. There was only so much Alexia could do to help, but luckily, it wasn’t a very large wound, and the doctor was done within a few minutes, cutting the excess thread and reaching for a white bandage. She wrapped that around your head, holding a piece of gauze in place, which really felt like overkill.

“Okay, done.” The doctor announced, removing her gloves and stepping away from your chair. Alexia’s earlier words forgotten, you stood shakily to your feet, allowing yourself to fall into your wife’s open arms.

“You did so good.” She whispered, smiling despite herself at the bandage wrapped around your head. You looked adorable, frowning up at her with tears in your eyes, looking somewhat like a disgruntled mummy.

“Mama?” Mila called from her spot on the bed.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, plastering a smile on your face as you walked over to your daughter. “Hi Meels.”

“All better, Mama?” She asked, reaching both of her arms out for you to pick her up, which you did easily.

“All better.” You confirmed, holding her as close as you could.

“Almost all better.” The doctor smiled, turning to your wife. “She has a mild concussion with the impact on the ground, so she’s going to need to take it easy for a few days. I am assuming you know concussion protocol, Ms. Putellas?”

“Yes, yes of course.” Alexia said, her eyes squinting with concern as she studied you. “I will take good care of her.”

“Me too!” Mila added, squirming in your hold until she could loop her arms around Alexia’s neck and shift over into her arms.

Your wife very hesitantly pulled you into her as the doctor left the room. You tilted your head to make eye contact with her, still with a small frown on your face. It was clear that you were still upset with your wife, but the determination in her eyes told you she’d do anything to fix it.

------

Apparently, anything consisted of making you sit on the couch next to Mila, holding an ice pack to your head, and not daring to move. Your wife went from room to room, collecting anything she had determined you or Mila might need. It was endearing, but also somewhat frustrating when she’d appear to hand you something, and go flitting off before you could just ask her for what you really wanted: for her to sit on the couch with the two of you, and relax.

Stressed Alexia made you stressed, but you knew this was just how she was coping with what had happened today. Alexia always held a lot of guilt for the little moments she missed while at work; any milestone that Mila achieved while Alexia wasn’t around was downright painful for your wife. She was a protective person, and you knew she was even more bothered because both you and Mila were hurt, and she hadn’t been there to help either of you.

You and Mila sat side by side, heads moving back and forth like you were watching a tennis match. In fact, you were just watching Alexia disappear and reappear with Mila’s favorite toy, a blanket, your favorite sweatshirt, a snack, some water, more ice, more painkillers and 6 different pillows for Mila to rest her cast on. You were exhausted just watching her.

She appeared back in the living room like a ghost the minute you stood up, her hands grabbing onto your shoulders and gently pushing you back down onto the couch.

“Ale, just let me-”

“No! Sit.” Alexia insisted, ignoring the small giggle from her daughter.

You rolled your eyes, shrugging out from under her grip and standing anyway. “Alexia, I have to go to the bathroom. You can’t do that for me.”

Alexia had the decency to blush, at least. “Okay. I’ll walk you there.” She decided, grabbing your hand and beginning to escort you to the bathroom. Honestly.

Always her mother’s shadow, Mila got up too, and grabbed your other hand. “Mami I can-”

“No. Sit!” Alexia repeated, though with a small smile as she regarded her daughter. “Mila, you stay there. I can take care of everything.”

“But Mami-”

“No! I can help Mama, you need to rest.” Your wife said, ignoring the amused look you were giving her, too focused on the attitude suddenly radiating off your daughter.

“Mami. I have to go potty too.” Mila said exasperatedly. Ale blushed further, nodding as she allowed Mila to accompany you both towards the bathroom. You turned your snort of laughter into a fake cough, knowing that Alexia could be sensitive to being teased about her over protectiveness. And, well… it seemed Mila was holding her own in showing her Mami how ridiculous she was being.

Once you’d arrived at the bathroom door, which took significantly longer than was necessary due to your wife and her mini-me insisting on walking slowly so as to not aggravate your head wound. You indulged them, only putting your foot down when both of them began to follow you into the bathroom.

“No. Enough. I can do this myself.” You sighed, looking between both Alexia and Mila’s skeptical expressions.

“But what if-”

“Mama, I can-”

You interrupted both of them by shutting the door and letting out a deep sigh. If you didn’t have a scar across your abdomen that told you that you’d birthed Mila, you’d be sure she was Alexia’s genetic clone.

------

The rest of the night consisted of overwhelming amounts of hovering, from your wife and daughter both. Alexia took turns fussing over you, and fussing over Mila, until you were sure you were going to make her sleep on the couch or something, before she suggested waking you up every 20 minutes and performing a cognitive test.

Alexia had just barely put Mila down in her toddler bed when she heard you call for her. There was urgency in your voice, but it was still obvious that you were trying to keep your voice down for Mila’s benefit. It had been hard enough to get the toddler to sleep; she had become suddenly very tearful once it was time for bed, because her favorite pajama shirt didn’t fit over her cast. It had taken one of Alexia’s t-shirts, around 45 minutes of cuddles, and 4 different stories, for her to finally settle.

“Alexia,” you whisper yelled, shutting your eyes as the dizziness got worse. You heard Alexia rush down the hall towards you and willed yourself to hold on just a moment longer.

Alexia ran into the room, seeing you with your head in your hands, sitting up in the bed. “What is it, amor?”

“I’m gonna be sick,” you managed, pressing a hand to your mouth as Alexia sprung into action.

“Okay, okay, just hold on one second.”

Just in time, Alexia thrust the bedroom trash can in front of you. You were sick, retching into the trash can uncomfortably. Your wife pulled your hair back, being careful to not jostle the skin around your stitches, tying it into a very loose bun. She rubbed your back soothingly, pressing kisses into the side of your head until you were done.

“Oh, amor, I am so sorry.” She murmured, taking the trash can from you once you were done. She was going to take it out of the room, but then she noticed the tears in your eyes, and decided that could wait until later.

You curled into her when she sat by your legs and pulled you into her arms. Within a second, you were sobbing brokenly into her shirt, incapable of resisting how comforted you felt when she held you.

Alexia whispered soft reassurances into your hair, beginning to think you were upset about more than just feeling so unwell. “Amor, is it your head? Or something else?”

You shook your head weakly into her chest, sucking in a few breaths before you tried to respond. “Meels broke her arm and it’s all my fault.” You said miserably.

“No no no, do not say that. It was not your fault, you did the best you could.” Alexia rushed to make you feel better, but that’s all it felt like; something she was saying just to make you feel better.

“You would have caught her.”

Alexia’s chest squeezed uncomfortably, knowing that she was partially at fault for how guilty you felt right now. Even if what she’d said had been in the heat of the moment, and it was just a reflection of how upset she was, of course you’d taken it to heart.

“It was an accident, mi amor. It is no one’s fault. Sometimes kids fall, sometimes they get hurt. It happens.”

“But Ale, it wouldn’t have happened if you had been with her. You’re just… so much better at this than I am.” You mumbled, refusing to untuck your face from Alexia’s shirt, even as she tried to get you to.

“That is so not true.” Alexia insisted. “You cracked your head open trying to make sure Mila didn’t get hurt. That is not something a bad mother does.”

You ignored her logic, wiping a tear away with that back of your hand. “You were right earlier. I should have been watching closer.”

Alexia shook her head again. “No. I was-“

“You blamed me then, what’s changed?” You snapped, not quite sure where all of these negative emotions were coming from, or why your mood was changing at the drop of a hat. Sad and guilty one second, angry the next. It wasn’t fair to Alexia, who was just trying to make you feel better, but there wasn’t any room for rationality in your jumbled head.

Luckily, your wife didn’t seem to take your words or your tone personally. Instead, she tucked a piece of hair back behind your ear and softly kissed your forehead, showing more patience than you were sure you deserved.

“I don’t blame you. I was terrified earlier, but that is no excuse. This was not your fault and I’m sorry I made you feel like it was. So sorry, amor.” Her voice was sweet and you could feel how sincere she was, just from the way her hand gently cradled your cheek.

Nodding shakily, you took a deep breath, suddenly feeling more than a little exhausted. “I’m sorry, Ale, I just-”

Alexia cut you off, though, placing her index finger over your lips. She looked stern again, like she had before when she was making sure you stayed on the couch and didn’t move. “It’s okay. No apologies. You are overwhelmed and hurt and exhausted. You need rest, we can talk about this more tomorrow if we need to.”

You nodded your agreement, shifting uncomfortably as you glared down at your pillows. Your head absolutely throbbed, and you hadn’t even tried to rest it on the pillow yet.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep.” You mumbled, brow furrowing in confusion when Alexia smiled cheekily at you.

“I do!” She said enthusiastically, quickly tucking herself under the covers and pulling you to lay on her chest. Your head was completely safe from any contact with anything, and you found so much peace in the steady thump of Alexia’s heartbeat in your ear.

She was a miracle worker, Alexia. Just when you thought you were going to explode with the amount of thoughts swirling around in your head, she quieted your brain with a few words and a few kisses.

Unfortunately, as comfortable as you were, sleep did not seem to be in the cards for either of you. At least, not yet. No sooner than your eyes had fallen shut, and Alexia had settled comfortably into the pillows did you both hear the creak of Mila’s door opening.

You exchanged a glance with your wife, keeping completely silent, knowing that sometimes Mila would come check on you both during the night, before heading back to her room. You heard her little steps padding down the hall, a small gasp, and then a loud thump.

Alexia was out of bed before Mila could even cry out. “Stay there!” She threw over her shoulder, causing you to sit back down on the bed with a grumble. You were glad Alexia hadn’t turned the light off earlier, as she sprinted carelessly out of the room towards your daughter.

“Mama!” Mila sobbed, her little voice breaking your heart. She wanted you, and it took everything in you to not go to her in that moment, knowing that Alexia would bring her to you.

“It’s okay, cariño, I’m here.” Alexia soothed, Mila’s cries becoming muffled by her Mami’s shirt.

Still, you could make out her next words very clearly. “I want Mama,” Mila demanded.

Alexia just shushed her, a few seconds passing before they both appeared in the doorway. Mila’s face was red and stained with tears, her cast cradled to her chest. She reached for you as soon as she saw you, and Alexia wasted no time in bringing her over.

“Careful, Milabear,” she reminded softly, handing the toddler over to you. Mila curled up against your chest, and you rubbed her back soothingly, exchanging a worried glance with your wife.

Mila was a rough and tumble kid; she fell often, and really only cried if she was actually hurt. Sometimes, not even then. She was like her Mami in that way, so her inconsolable tears now terrified you.

“I think she tripped over my shirt.” Alexia murmured, running her hands through her daughter’s hair. Dressed in one of Alexia’s old warm up shirts, Mila surely had tripped over the hem of it. You could see this information really sinking into your wife’s head, as she began to gnaw on her bottom lip, worry and guilt clouding her face.

“Baby, did you trip?” You asked, easing Mila away from your body so you could get a good look at her face. She nodded, looking between you and your wife, her bottom lip jutting out adorably.

“Woke up and my arm hurt, and I wanted to sleep in here but I couldn’t see and I fell.” Mila said. “Mama’s shirt is too big.” She continued forlornly, as if just now realizing this piece of information.

Alexia looked truly distressed, opening her mouth to apologize for allowing Mila to sleep in her shirt, even though you knew the toddler had cried and cried until Alexia had finally given in to what she wanted, if only so she could sleep. You spoke before Alexia could, though, pushing a lock of hair out of your baby’s face.

“Did you bump your arm when you fell?” You asked. Mila nodded, sniffling sadly. “Does it hurt a lot more or just a little bit more?”

“A lot at first. Just a little bit now.” Mila said bravely, peeking at her Mami out of the corner of her eye. She loved to act tough, your little girl, but she was only three, and broken bones hurt.

Alexia still hovered on your side of the bed, looking like she wanted to cry.

“Alright, Mami will go get you some ice, and you can sleep in here with us tonight. Deal?”

Mila nodded, flopping forward again to rest on your chest. The fact that her mood didn’t even really lift when you told her she could sleep with the two of you told you that she was really hurting.

Without a word, only a soft kiss placed on Mila’s forehead, Alexia headed for the freezer. She walked calmly out of the room, but both you and Mila heard the unmistakable sound of her running her way to the kitchen, and running back.

“Mami’s running.” Mila said, a small smile adorning her face. You laughed quietly, doing your best to keep your smile in check as Alexia slowed to a walk just before walking through the bedroom door, acting as though she’d walked the whole way.

The blonde had returned with the biggest ice pack you had, the one that she’d used on her knee. She wrapped it meticulously around Mila’s arm, handed her a small sippy cup [of what looked suspiciously like juice, even though Mila was only supposed to have water this late at night], and some children’s pain medicine.

It was only when Alexia slipped back into bed that she spoke, addressing her daughter with a deep sadness in her voice. “I’m sorry about your shirt, cariño, I shouldn’t have let you wear it.”

Mila gave her a strange look, scooting out of your lap to lay directly on top of your wife. Her little fingers grabbed onto her Mami’s shirt, even the one’s restrained by her cast twisting into the fabric. “It’s okay, Mami. Was an accident.”

You smiled at your girls, watching Alexia’s face melt from guilt into adoration as she leaned down to kiss all over Mila’s face. Your daughter giggled, and your heart soared at the sound, more than happy that she had stopped crying and cheered up.

Mila settled back down against her Mami, reaching one hand out to latch onto your shirt and attempt to pull you closer. “Mama, closer.” She complained, huffing when you didn’t budge.

Alexia frowned, worried you would put yourself into an uncomfortable position with your head in order to make Mila happy, but luckily, your daughter seemed to have the same thought.

“Not on your back Mama! You gotta lay on your front. Here, lay on Mami.” Mila offered, whacking Alexia in the face with her cast as she struggled to move over. You snorted at the disgruntled look on your wife’s face, ignoring the fake glare she sent back your way.

It took some maneuvering from everyone involved before Mila was curled up against one side of Alexia’s chest, and you were resting with your cheek pressed into on the other side. Only once you and Mila were both comfy did Alexia kiss Mila on the forehead, and you chastly on the lips.

And it was only when Mila had drifted off, soft puffs of air leaving her as she gripped onto both you and your wife, that you relaxed. Alexia gave you a knowing smile, well aware that your daughter's insistence that you hold her when she’d gotten hurt, and that you be included in the bedtime snuggles, had put to rest your worries that you’d failed her today.

It all evened out, in parenthood. You couldn’t forget that. Tomorrow, when Alexia would turn away for a split second too long during breakfast and Mila would end up with syrup in her hair, you’d be even more sure of that. Mistakes didn’t change how much you or Alexia loved Mila, or how much she loved both of you.

Mila didn’t keep score. She just loved you both, and that was that.

-----

this has been in my drafts for genuienly several months so i apologize if it doesn't feel very cohesive. hope you enjoy anyway 🙂🫶🏻 thanks for reading 🫡🥰

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine

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