#Four Voices Tour

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

DID YALL SEE THAT BULL ABOUT RDJ COMING BACK TO PLAY DR DOOM?? SOMEBODY SAY SIKE RIGHT FUCKIN NOW PLZ 😭

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

a darling and a virgin | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.

notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.

word count: 6.8k

Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.

For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.

Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.

For six whole months.

When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.

You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.

Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.

So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.

“Pretty cold out here.”

A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”

He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.

Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.

Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.

“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”

You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.

Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.

“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”

To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.

Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”

Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.

With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”

He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.

You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.

His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.

The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”

You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.

Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?”

Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”

God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.

He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.

His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.

His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

*************

You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.

Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.

After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.

You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.

Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—

“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.

But your gaze remained on the bed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”

Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”

He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”

“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”

He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”

A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.

Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.

The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.

“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”

The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.

You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.

Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”

His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.

“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.

He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.

This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.

A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.

“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”

He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”

Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”

“Okay, good.”

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.

And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.

Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.

Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.

When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.

A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.

It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.

After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.

One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.

Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.

He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.

His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.

Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.

“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.

But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.

Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.

Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”

You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”

And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.

There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.

Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.

Does it hurt?

You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.

Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.

Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.

He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.

Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.

Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.

Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be ­­crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.

He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.

His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.

Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”

He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.

Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.

His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.

While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.

Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.

Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.

People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.

His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.

“Finnick,” you moaned.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.

His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.

This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.

Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.

It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.

Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.

“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.

He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.

“Yes!” you cried out.

Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.

The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.

“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t even describe it.

Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”

Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.

As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.

His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.

After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.

Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.

Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.

His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.

You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”

You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.

He whispered, “Me too.”

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - one (j.yh)

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you've never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he's so much more than a crush, he's your soulmate. one | two | three | four

note: please enjoy this truly self indulgent romance. will be four parts total, and i'll post each as soon as they are ready to go. happy comeback week, and i hope everyone enjoys this 💖

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, a lot of fluff and tenderness, love at first touch, shared feelings/emotions/physical sensations, anxiety/stress over what to do, reader's family isn't the best, kq is not the best company for the purposes of this fic!, light smut including - heavy makeouts/grinding, hand kink, size kink, phone sex, sexting, fingering, jacking off, dirty talk, praise, use of good girl, use of pet names like baby/jagiya/sweetheart. basically this fic is an excuse for me to write star-crossed desperate love so i would say it's the literal opposite of a slow burn lmao

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

It’s eleven in the morning when your day starts, hiding in the green room of a concert venue in Berlin, and the day feels lost already. With Eunji and Dahan ill that only leaves you and Iseul to handle makeup for all eight members and with how exhausted you are from yet another night of little sleep, you don’t know how you’ll be able to keep up. You’re trying to stay awake, but while the members are all out on stage learning their marks and rehearsing the improvisational moments for this tour stop, the green room is quiet and you keep nodding off. 

“Bad night?” Iseul’s voice startles you out of one of your dips into sleep and your body jerks up right. 

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,” 

“Here,” She pushes a bright can into your hands, an energy drink, “you need this.” 

“I need to be sedated,” You grumble, taking it from her, “the time difference is never this hard,” 

“Mm,” She shrugs, “it’s unpredictable,” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.” 

The thumping music outside as they run through another track is starting to give you a migraine. You take a long sip of the drink and then leave the can on the table in front of you, choosing instead to hide your face in the sleeves of your sweatshirt and let out another long sigh. 

“Girl,” Iseul nudges you, “you look like shit. Your station looks like shit.” 

“Thank you?” 

“In thirty minutes we’re going to be busier than we’ve been since that Inkigayo stage for Answer,” She points out and you grimace at the reference. Back then it really was just a skeleton staff and one of the makeup artists quit on the spot, too stressed to continue the work and walking out in the middle of doing Yeosang’s foundation. 

What a mess those old days used to be. Nostalgia sometimes makes you forget how late those nights were and just how impossibly tired you had been. This feels too reminiscent of that for sure. 

Iseul taps your shoulder to get you to lift your face as she continues, “I know you’re tired, but I can’t do this shit on my own. I need you.” 

“Okay,” You breathe, scrubbing your hands over your face to jolt yourself awake as best you can, “you’re right, I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t be sorry,” She gives you a sympathetic smile, “I get it.” 

This tiredness feels different though, so deeply ingrained in your body. Something’s been keeping your adrenaline running like a long, drawn out anxiety attack and you can’t understand it. You’ve been on tour before, you’ve been on planes, you’ve had long days, and you’ve worked with this exact group for years. There’s nothing on paper that should be making you so anxious, but the threads of it are humming in the deep back of your brain even now. 

“Come on,” Iseul prompts again, pulling you to your feet, “let’s get you in gear.” 

“Right,” You take another long sip of your energy drink and pray it starts kicking in soon and that the effects won’t make you feel crazier, “let’s do this.” 

She helps you put your station together with ease and then pull yourself together. Within those precious thirty minutes of calm before the storm you’ve downed two cans of pure caffeine, assembled your station and strapped on your brush belt, and tried to make yourself some form of presentable by slicking your hair back into a smooth knot and adding a coat of lip balm. 

As always, the boys have used the ladder game to determine hair and makeup order which means those at the bottom of the list have more time to relax fresh-faced on the couches before getting poked and prodded and wrapped up like presents for thousands of screaming fans. With only you and Iseul available it’s about to be a race against the clock to get them ready. 

Their managers hustle them from the stage to the back rooms where the rest of the staff waits, and the members gather around you and Iseul and your makeshift makeup stations. 

“Alright,” Iseul says as the members quiet down, “we’re down some staff as you know,” 

They nod attentively and you trade a close lipped smile with Hongjoong. 

“We’re just going to do the best we can as quickly as we can,” She explains, looking down at their names on a slip of paper, “Wooyoung, Yeosang, Jongho, San,” she recites, “you’re with me in that order.” 

You run through the names on your slip, “Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Yunho, that leaves you with me.” 

Iseul nods as you finish your words, “Please be ready to slot in when the person in front of you is finished, and then you can go directly to wardrobe for your soundcheck outfits,” 

“We’ve got it,” Hongjoong nods, “and if there’s anything you both need,” 

“We’ll be fine,” Iseul assures him, “but it’s definitely going to be cutting it close,” 

“We should get started,” You cut in, “if you’re ready?” 

Hongjoong jumps to your chair immediately and Wooyoung steps to Iseul’s, and before you know it you’re off. 

The room is alight with activity while you both work, only you don’t have a relaxed pace and only two members to perfect. You’re used to working with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, they’ve been your assigned members for as long as you’ve worked with Ateez, but when staff shortages or timing gets tight, it can be a bit of a free for all. 

You stay focused and execute each member’s makeup like a well rehearsed dance, and you do your best to ignore the buzzing anxiety in your veins. For a little while, you handle it like a professional. 

When Yunho finally settles into your chair, about a single second after Mingi leaves it, the exhaustion careens back into you sideways. It takes you a minute to prep your tools this time, and you’re pretty sure that without the artificial pick me up of the energy drinks you’d be passing out on the spot. 

You steady your hands against the vanity in front of you and take a deep breath, and when you look up you catch Yunho’s eyes in the mirror, a tiny crease of concern between his brows. 

“You okay?” He checks. 

You give him a smile, albeit a tired one, “The jet lag is really hitting this time,” you explain, “but I’m fine,” 

He looks sympathetic immediately, “Same for me, I feel like I’m barely sleeping,” 

“That’s not good,” You tell him as you prep your stainless steel palette, “you have a long night ahead,” 

“I’ll sleep tonight,” He says, “I’m sure,” 

“After dancing for three hours I’d hope so,” You smile and pick up your first set of tools before turning towards him. 

“Do you have anything you could take?” He asks, studying your face, “A sleep aid?” 

“I usually don’t like to,” You admit, “I always feel groggy the next day,” 

“And we have another show,” He finishes for you, his lips coming together in a thin line as he thinks. 

There’s nothing really for him to do, but it’s kind of him anyway to be so concerned. They always are, this rare group of eight idols who remember staff birthdays, bring coffee on the early morning schedules, and always, always take extra time to clean up after themselves so it’s not left to anyone else. 

You take a step closer towards him and glance over his bare face and then it occurs to you, “You know what’s funny?” 

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever done your makeup before,” You smile, it’s a ridiculous thought. 

“No way,” He blinks, thinking back, “it’s been… forever, are you sure?” 

You nod, “You’re usually with Eunji,” you tell him, “and even when we’ve swapped around, I don’t think so. I think you’re the only member I’ve never done,” 

“Wow,” He laughs, eyes bright, “well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.” 

“Is there anything,” You start to ask him if there’s anything he prefers, anything special about his makeup that he gets done with Eunji that he asks for, but Iseul catches you idle as she pats foundation onto San’s forehead and answers for you. 

“His skin gets dry,” She jumps in, “don’t use too much powder,” 

Yunho grins, a laugh on his lips at the directness of her words. 

“And don’t use that oil,” Iseul adds, “that primer oil you like, he’ll break out by tomorrow,” 

“Thank you, Iseul,” Yunho says, and you watch San’s face as he stifles a chuckle. 

“Noted,” You smile, and you swap out two of the products in your hands before taking up your position by his side again. 

You’ve gotten used to working with idols, to working with Ateez and with Yunho specifically, and yet when you get this close a little flutter of nerves rocks through your belly. He’s handsome, and if you’re being honest he’s just your type. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or this weird feeling in your chest that you’ve been dealing with all week, but for the first time in a long time you think about what it would be like to kiss his lips. 

“How do you want me?” He asks, breaking your thoughts, and you have to shake off the impending blush at the way his words make you feel. You have work to do, and you had gotten over your silly little crush on him years ago, you need to get a grip. 

You recover fairly smoothly though with a quick smile, “Right,” he’s never worked with you before, and he’s looking to you for direction, “head back a bit, please, and eyes closed,” 

“Alright,” He follows your instructions to the letter. 

“Okay,” You tell him, “primer first. Let me know if anything bothers you,” 

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed. 

He has the loveliest eyelashes, that’s the thought that echoes through your brain as you start working on him, and you wish it never occurred to you at all because you keep glancing up at his closed eyes. He lets you work, he knows you’re exhausted so he doesn’t push you for conversation, and you’re strangely grateful. You know he’s chatty sometimes in the chair, an extrovert through and through and always keeping Eunji company or talking with the member beside him, but right now he keeps still and gives you respite on a hard day. 

You’re patting foundation into his skin with a large paddle brush when Iseul interrupts your thoughts, “Do you have that eggplant liner?” 

“Check my table,” You offer, but with how sluggish your brain is feeling there’s no way you remember a single thing on your station without looking.

“Mm,” She pivots around and pokes through the products and tools behind you, and you glance over as San opens his eyes to watch Iseul rifle through things. 

“Damn,” She mutters, “how much time do we have?” 

“Um,” You glance down at your watch, “twenty?” 

“Perfect,” She scoots behind you and disappears into the hall, no doubt to find your traveling makeup case and the liner. 

You sigh, chewing the inside of your lip at the idea that you only have twenty more minutes, but you really don’t want to rush and have his makeup melt off on-stage. 

“You’re fine,” San assures, his body angled towards you and Yunho now while he waits, “don’t worry about the clock,”

Yunho hums his agreement from below you, “Plenty of time,”

You refocus on Yunho’s skin and notice a long black and white hair from the paddle brush affixed to his cheek, mixed in with the foundation. You take the brush again, wiping off any excess foundation and checking to see if more fibers are loose, and then you work the brush against his cheek in an attempt to free the loose hair but it isn’t coming off easily. Every attempt you make just slides the hair into a different spot on his cheek and covers it with more foundation. 

“Um,” You usually don’t like to do this, but you might have to, “can I just…”

His eyes open but his expression stays smooth, “Can you?” 

“Sorry,” You shake your head, “do you mind if I touch you?” 

“You already are,” He smiles, a small, amused crease between his brows you’ll have to pat out momentarily. 

You tuck your brush away and gesture with your hand, “You just have a hair,” 

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,” 

You’re just supposed to touch his cheek, brush away the hair with the pad of your finger and then get back to work, that’s all it is, so you’re completely unprepared for the feeling that rockets through your chest when your skin finally touches his. 

Yunho gasps softly as your fingers brush over his cheek, his eyes blowing wide and his expression blanking, and it’s the only indication you have that he feels something too. A tightness wrenches in your chest, like someone pressed something hot and hard directly into your breastbone and your stomach does a somersault. Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure your heart is about to beat out of your chest now that it’s started up again. 

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse. 

“You,” Yunho manages, his voice shaky and you know for sure he felt it too. 

You rock back a step, “I don’t understand,” 

“Shit,” Someone else says, and then you realize that it’s San and you’re not alone with the only other person in the entire world, you’re in the middle of work in front of at least one other person and it’s only your existence that just got tilted on its axis. Yours and maybe Yunho’s. 

“Oh,” You glance to the side, taking in San’s wide eyed expression, “oh my God,” 

“I’m not insane, am I?” Yunho smiles, his focus entirely on you, and you think you might just pass out, “You felt that?” 

There’s a noise in the hall and San scrambles up to his feet, “Iseul,” he says heading for the door, “do you need help looking?” 

He’s covering for you both, but thoughts are slow to form and all you can manage is blinking at the man in your chair. 

“You did, right?” He asks again, eyes soft and hopeful, and then his fingers brush over the center of his chest. Squarely over his breastbone.

He’s yours. 

You want to reach out and yank up his shirt, check the tattoo over his heart to see if it’s the same looping knot shape as yours, but you don’t need to see it to know for sure. It’s him. 

San says something about forgetting the liner altogether, a little louder so you both know the room is going to get crowded again, and you shake your head to jolt yourself out of your paralyzed position. 

“You didn’t?” His hand falls. 

“I did,” You rush to correct, “I’m, I don’t know,” 

He nods, wetting his lips and shifting in his chair. He moves to reach for you, but reason and sense click back into place immediately and you realize that no matter what your tattoo feels like and no matter what this means, you’re at work and about to have a very private moment in a very public place if you’re not careful. 

You shake your head with a glance at his hand and jerk your head towards the door, “Later,” 

“Right,” He leans back from you, “of course, right,” 

Footsteps to your right draw your attention and Iseul is huffing, checking her own watch, “We’ll do brown,” 

“That’ll be fine,” San assures her, but his eyes are glued on the pair of you. 

Iseul moves to step around you again and realizes you’re just standing there, “What’s with you?” 

“Sorry,” You manage, blinking hard and refocusing, “I just got dizzy,” 

It’s not entirely a lie, given that you felt the entire earth shift under your feet thirty seconds ago and your life is completely changed. Dizzy is the least of how you’re feeling. 

Yunho’s expression shifts immediately, concern across his face, and he curls his fingers into his palms to keep himself from reaching out again, from being too familiar. 

“Oh,” Her eyebrows raise high, “do you need me to finish Yunho?”

“N-no,” You take a breath, “just give me one second,” 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Yunho asks, and in the back of your brain you wonder if his voice has always sounded this good. 

“Here,” San cuts in smoothly, cracking the seal on a fresh water bottle and passing it over to you, “do you need to sit a minute?” 

San’s hand rests on your upper back between your shoulders as you take a long sip of water, the cold shocking your brain back to reality in exactly the way you need. 

“Thank you,” You tell him honestly, “I think I’m okay, just a headrush,” 

San nods, and when you refocus your eyes on Yunho, you almost laugh. His gaze is squarely on San’s hand where it sits on your back, and you watch the fast, silent exchange between the two men when San drops his hand and Yunho realizes his own reaction. He blushes, ears running red and he dips his head to avoid both your eyes. 

“Iseul,” San steps around you both and distracts your friend, “ready to wrap?” 

“Yeah,” She agrees, “let’s finish up. You’re sure you’re okay, y/n?” 

“Mhm,” You hardly trust your own voice, but you nod anyway, “I’m good now.” 

Yunho tilts his face back up as you step close, and the tension between you is so palpable and so familiar that you can hardly breathe. Your tattoo feels warm and heavy and something tells you that his does too, you can see it in the tenderness of his brown eyes. 

“Dizzy?” He asks quietly, keeping his words just for you. 

You shake your head, “No,”

“That’s good,” He murmurs, but he lets whatever words he wants to say rest on his tongue. 

Your tattoo throbs and you don’t dare touch his bare skin again. 

His makeup takes fifteen more minutes and his eyes don’t stray from your face the entire time. You barely finish on time, and wardrobe is standing by to get them into their first outfits of the night, so when you put the final touches on he’s already being pulled out of the chair before you have a chance to say anything. 

You want to corner him and ask him exactly when he’ll have time to talk later, but despite working together for the last few years, you and Yunho aren’t that close. You’re friendly, but you’re not familiar enough to casually ask what he’s doing later and not have it seem strange. While friendships between staff members and idols are not discouraged, even between the opposite sex, being overly familiar or suggestive would certainly leave a question in everyone’s minds, and you don’t want to draw attention to yourself that quickly. 

This is between you and Yunho, no one else. You don’t want an audience for this. 

So he goes, pulled away by wardrobe and his other members, fitted quickly into his Soundcheck outfit. He has his game face on, so do all the members, and you watch him disappear down the hall without a second glance back at you. 

You collapse into the couch and press your eyes closed, focusing on the singular feeling of heat and soreness from your chest.

A soulmate. 

The tattoo on your chest was one you barely looked at anymore, too focused on living your life to sit in the mirror and wonder about the person who would be your other half, the person that would slot into the gaps in your spirit with a simple brush of skin on skin. But now, it aches. It pulses to remind you that it’s real and that you’ve found him. 

Everything in your life is about to change. Has already changed.

On the couch you don’t sleep as much as you disassociate, still stunned, your buzzing brain filtering out everything Iseul says as she cleans up around you and preps both of your brush belts for touch ups. There’s such a small amount of time between Soundcheck and the concert that you barely get to process, you just exist, playing the moment you touched him over again and again in your mind. Despite how utterly changed you feel, the world is just continuing on around you like a regular day.

Once again, you and Yunho miss each other for every brief moment between Soundcheck and stage.

The shift happens in the wings, in the underbelly of the stage where you and the other staff members for hair, makeup, and wardrobe wait for any last minute quick fixes. The eight of them are almost ready, pumping themselves up between rows of technical equipment and stage scaffolding. 

There’s so much commotion around you and yet your eyes are drawn to him like a magnet, the feelings you once had for him coming back to you full force in a blurry torrent. 

He shifts, stretches, swallows hard, and then looks up directly into your eyes. There’s a question in them that you can’t read, but you manage to smile. 

His shoulders relax just a little. 

You raise your fist, giving him the gesture for ‘fighting’ and he returns it with a wide grin. 

“Alright,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through, the final step of their pre-show ritual as the concert hall starts to roar, “huddle up.” 

The eight of them circle up with each other, one leg in and one out. 

“We’ve practiced hard,” Hongjoong starts, patting his members on the back, “let that practice pay off, and have fun out there,” 

“Okay!” San hypes them up, getting the tension high. 

“Let’s give it our all,” Hongjoong continues, a wide smile on his face, “fighting!”

They echo it back, and a tense feeling starts to roll in your gut. 

“Alright, one,” Hongjoong starts the count and you feel the tension in your own body rising, enough to make you take a soft step back from the group, “two,” 

On three they chorus it, moving their feet in a synchronized step,  “Eight makes one team! Fighting!” 

They break apart, clapping each other on the back, and your eyes meet Yunho’s for one more fast second before he’s jogging after the rest of the members and finding his mark on the stage risers. 

You feel the sensation of his eyes on you even after he’s gone. You have the length of four songs and their opening ments before members start swapping out on stage for makeup touch-ups and technical adjustments. The sound of the audience is intense, the start of the first song keying up, and you stumble back from your post to get a breath of air away from it all. 

There’s a bathroom along the hallway two doors down from the green room that’s meant for staff and you blissfully find it empty. With shaking hands you flip the lock and sink down into a crouch, your back braced against the wall as you breathe through the sudden wave of feelings filling your chest. 

Adrenaline, that’s what the bitter taste on your tongue is. 

Your heart is thumping, double time like you’re running a marathon, and then you realize it. You can feel him, even now with the bond between you unfulfilled you can feel his emotions coming to you like a wave. Adrenaline, anxiety, euphoria, exhaustion, it all roils through you and you brace your hands on the wall to get your composure back. 

They say the first time you feel your soulmate link it takes you by surprise, but this is an intensity you couldn’t have imagined. It’s all encompassing and honestly terrifying, and you’re struggling to understand which parts of you are you and which are him. You can’t conceive of how an accepted bond would make this feeling stronger when it already feels like your emotions and his are knit together so tightly. 

Anxiety strikes down the link and you realize it’s not stage fright, it’s for you. He can feel your panic and your fear just like you can feel every ounce of his performance and if you don’t get yourself in check you’re going to be distracting him even more than you already are. 

You yank yourself up off the floor and collapse against the sink, turning on the cold water tap and taking slow and steadying breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Counting slowly, relaxing your body with every pulse of oxygen through your system. You hope he can feel it, but you have no idea how this all really works. You’ll have to call your sister when this is all said and done, find out what she felt when she met her wife, but right now in this bathroom in Berlin you have to do this by yourself. 

You hear the pulse of another song thrumming through the stadium as they keep performing, and you feel the thundering beat of his heart in your chest, but you breathe into it this time and try to keep yourself calm for his sake. You splash cold water on your face, keep breathing low and slow, and eventually you pull yourself back up to standing tall to look at yourself in the mirror. 

You look the same as you did a few hours ago, before him, but the warmth in your chest is still present and you wonder if that will ever go away or if that’s just a permanent part of the link. 

With shaky hands you unbutton your blouse and pull your bralette down in the center to reveal what you already know is there. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

The tattoo nestled at the base of your sternum is the only one you were born with. Every other line of ink on your body was put there with intention, but this one you’ve had for as long as you can remember. The maedeup knot is small, but intricate, and until this moment it had always been colorless. Loops of black and gray twining together to make a rounded diamond, unbroken with no beginning or end to the threads. 

Now the ink has changed, a deep red against your skin that makes the knotted josephin soulmark look even more traditional, but the skin is slightly inflamed, tender to the touch as you brush your fingertips along it. It feels like a fresh mark, not something you’ve had since birth, but considering how it’s changed, maybe it is new. A soulmark shifting color is common, you know that, but it still stands out so starkly against your skin and your other black tattoos. You can’t look away from it. 

A pounding on the bathroom door makes you jump and you fix your shirt, covering the mark back up and buttoning it away. You wonder if Yunho’s mark is the exact same like other couples you know and if it too turned red, if it’s warm to the touch, if he felt you brush against your mark through the link. 

“y/n?” A voice comes through the door and you shut off the tap. 

“Coming!” You wipe the excess water on your hands onto your jeans and take one last, fast look to make sure your mark isn’t visible, before opening the bathroom door. 

Wonshik, one of their many managers, is waiting for you on the other side. His eyes narrow when he sees you, “Are you ill?” 

“No,” You assure him. 

“You’re sure?” He presses, “We can’t afford to lose any more staff or risk getting the members sick if you are,” 

“I know, Wonshik,” You nod, “I promise I’m just tired, jet-lagged. I was putting cold water on my face, that’s all. I’m not sick,” 

He exhales in relief, his expression softening, “Thank God,” he says, “I can only take so many surprises.” 

A little sickness is nothing compared to a staff member and an idol under a dating ban being soulmarked, but you hold your tongue. 

“They’re about to come off,” He says, “Iseul was looking for you, she seems like she might start climbing the walls if you don’t get back to help her,” 

“No, of course,” You start back towards the side stage entrance, “I lost track of time, but it won’t happen again,” 

“Make sure you sleep tonight,” He adds, following you closely, “no sleep means no immune system, and no immune system means sick.” 

“Don’t worry,” You promise, winding your way through the dark backstage, “you won’t lose me,” 

“I better not,” He sighs, and then Iseul comes into sight. 

“There you are!” She hisses low under her breath, “I was about to have a panic attack,” 

“I’m sorry, I’m here, I’m good,” In the commotion, your brain starts to ease into normalcy. You’re used to this pace, the speed of lightning fast makeup touch-ups and assisting wardrobe when things start to go awry with their quick changes. The audience feels none of this, they just see smooth change-outs on stage and cool idols in new clothes, but backstage is a wild flurry and it always puts you on an entirely different plane of focus. 

“Here we go,” A stage director starts, gathering everyone’s attention, “four minutes… starting…” 

The stage goes dark and in the venue a video starts to play to the crowd to fill the space between costume changes. You prep your hands, making sure your kit is ready to go and you see the wardrobe specialists out of the corner of your eye readying themselves to help facilitate the quick change. 

Suddenly they’re here, and the stage director interrupts once more, “Now, four minutes people, let’s go.” 

“Mingi,” He gets to you first and he crouches down to drop his face to your height, “stay still one second,” 

He says nothing, but he nods as you pat powder across his forehead and the bridge of his nose, checking him over for any other defects. He looks good and you nod, “Go, go,” 

Mingi peels off to the left of you and you hear the sound of fabric swishing as he and Wooyoung rip off the top layer of their outfits behind the privacy screens and trade garments with the wardrobe team. It’s a fast shuffle, but you stay focused on who’s in front of you. 

“Seonghwa,” You wave to him, pulling blotting tissues out of the pack on your belt, “here,” 

He knows this drill well, you’re used to working with him and you have a clean routine down. He blots the sweat off his brow himself and starts to unbutton his jacket while you shift focus to Yunho. 

For a split second you almost forget what happened earlier in the buzz of backstage, but the minute your eyes hold on his awareness floods you. 

“Hey,” You say, but there’s a time clock shout behind you and you beckon him down, “come here, let me fix things,”

He drops down to your height just like Mingi did and stays steady while you work, but his eyes flick up, “You’re okay?” 

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,” 

His expression clears a little and you guess you have your answer about the feeling of the link going both ways. 

Hongjoong clears his throat behind you both, “We’re short on time,” 

“Am I good?” Yunho checks. 

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,” 

He’s out of your eyeline a split second later, and you’re grateful for the distraction of both Hongjoong and Seonghwa, otherwise you’re sure you’d dwell a little bit too long on the fact that Yunho’s half naked next to you, privacy screen or no. 

“One minute,” The stage director announces, “everyone’s doing great,” 

The boys are almost done, flying through the last of their zips and getting their hair smoothed down by that team as they finish. You put the last pat of powder on Seonghwa’s nose and give him a nod before he’s gone too, dropping his jacket as he goes and giving you all a quick flash of his bare back. 

You turn back towards the group as they prepare and your eyes zero in on Yunho again. His expression is serious, it’s his game face before he gets back out on stage, and you watch as he corrects the placement of his in-ears and ensures that his mic pack is secured. He runs through his pre-stage ritual and you can’t help but be a captive audience. 

“Good work,” The stage director says as Seonghwa rejoins the eight, fully dressed and ready for stage, “fifteen seconds for act two,” 

The crowd heats up again as the video starts to fade, and the members do their final checks. Yunho doesn’t look back at you once, his eyes forward and focused as he and the other members find their places on the rising platform that will take them back out to the main stage. 

You can see him a little though, in the low light in his white trousers and blue satin shirt. He lifts his hand, adjusting his microphone once again, and then as he drops it back to his side he lets his fingers skim over the familiar hollow of his chest. 

Your mark warms, you feel it as if it were your chest he brushed his fingers over, and your breath stops. 

The platform rises, the crowd roars, and your heart starts beating to a new rhythm. 

He really is yours. 

It turns out that later means much later. 

You manage to get out of dinner with some of the other staff members, but that just leaves you anxious and alone in a hotel room trying and failing to eat room service. Iseul would be back soon to take up her place in the other bed, and you’re starting to realize that you don’t have Yunho’s number. 

Now that emotions are a little smoother, you can’t feel him. Or maybe you can, but it’s so faint that you’re not sure. All you know is that he’s definitely in the hotel, but that’s partially the solid feeling of your link with him and partially the YouTube live being broadcast from Seonghwa’s room where all of the members are. 

You put the live on and watch, feeling strangely disconnected from the men on screen. You’ve known them for years, but suddenly with this new truth everything feels foreign and confusing. 

You should call your sister, but it’s only six in the morning in Korea and even though this is an emergency of life altering and epic proportions, you can’t bring yourself to wake her on a Saturday. 

You try your best to eat the pasta you ordered and watch as the live eventually ends. Your phone dings and for a split second you think it will be him, but it’s just Iseul telling you she’s heading back to the hotel. 

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch. 

You’re frozen. 

There’s another knock, a little firmer this time but then you feel the warm touch against your mark and you’re on your feet, your hand on the door handle before you can think. 

He looks tired, that’s your first thought. His face is bare again, and his eyes are rimmed in a little bit of red like he just removed the day’s stage makeup. Despite all that, he smiles when he sees you and sighs, leaning against the door frame, “You’re awake,” he says. 

“I waited,” You manage. 

He grimaces, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” his eyes flick behind you into the room and he swallows, “are you alone?” 

“Yes,” You nod, “but not for long, Iseul’s on her way,” 

He nods, “Come to my room?” 

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen. 

“We need to talk,” He nods, “can you get away for a little while?” 

Iseul will probably expect you to be asleep, but you can’t let this go until morning. If you’re ever going to sleep you need to talk to him now. 

“I’ll think of something,” You tell him, “what room?” 

“2606,” He answers, reaching into his pockets and producing an envelope from the front desk, “take this,” 

He passes you one of his room keys and you nod, “I’ll be up in five minutes, but you should go,” 

“Okay,” He breathes and neither one of you makes a single move to step away from the door until a sound down the hallway pushes you into it. 

“2606,” You repeat and he nods, swiftly moving down the hall before anyone can see him standing at your door. 

You have no idea what you’re going to tell Iseul that would make sense, but you don’t care. You stack up your room service for collection, kick on a pair of slippers, and give yourself the fastest look in the mirror ever on your way out the door. You want to be gone before she gets back, the idea of facing her and lying ten times more difficult than an empty text. 

No problem - I can’t sleep, I’m just going to walk a bit. Don’t wait up.

You don’t stick around to see if she’ll believe it. 

You try to seem casual when walking to Yunho’s room, like it's yours. You don’t want anyone to give you a second glance and wonder where you’re going, so you keep your head up, smile at anyone you pass, and when his door comes into view you scan the card like it’s any other day. 

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh. 

“God, finally,” His voice startles you, and you look up to see him pacing, “I’ve been going insane all day,” 

Your shoulders drop, you aren’t alone, “Me too,”

He runs a hand through his black hair and finally stops pacing, but doesn’t come any closer, “So, this is real?” 

“It feels pretty real,” 

“How did we never feel it?” He manages, “I’ve known you for years,” 

“We’ve never touched until today,” You tell him, and that has to be the reason, it’s the only thing that makes sense. You’ve been turning it over in your mind all night, and with the exception of bumping into him last week in the hall, it’s all been polite bows and waves. 

“How is that even possible,” He breathes, “team dinners? Holiday parties? Work?” 

“Skin to skin,” You murmur, “I think that’s what it was,” 

“I had no idea,” He swallows, gesturing in the negative space between your bodies, “I always liked you, but I thought it was just, you know, a crush,” 

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise. 

“Well,” He backtracks, “not like that, it’s not like I’ve been holding a candle.” 

Your face stays neutral, but he grimaces at his own words. 

“I’m fucking this up,” He takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I’m really nervous.” 

Your stomach warms, “Yunho, it’s okay, honestly,” 

“I just meant I’ve always liked you, I thought about asking you out when our contracts loosened up if you were still single.” He clarifies and then you watch his face blanch, “You are single, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” You nod, “we don’t have to worry about that,” 

He nods and you see him searching for the next thing to say, the right thing. 

“Your mark,” You cut in, taking a few steps further into the room, “did it change?” 

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?” 

“Yeah,” You wonder the right way to ask him if you can see. 

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?” 

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?” 

“Like a fresh tattoo,” You take another step in. 

“I’ve never gotten a tattoo,” He confesses, “but I’ll take your word for it,” 

“Can I,” The words are stuck on your tongue, “maybe this is weird, but I mean, I guess we’re soulmates,” 

“You want to see it?” He surmises. 

“Only if you’re comfortable,” 

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

Heat twists in your gut and you wonder if he can feel that too. If he does he doesn’t say it, but you watch as he pulls the black t-shirt off over his head. 

You’ve never seen his chest. Any inch of his skin except for his neck and arms really, and you guess that was part of keeping his soulmark covered. Idols always do, even when they’re in the most inconvenient locations, there’s always makeup or flesh colored tape or editing to take care of it. The idea that someone could replicate it and try to fake a connection is far too real for someone famous. 

He drops his shirt onto the bed and pink tinges his cheeks as he gestures towards it, “Well,” 

Your mouth drops, it’s the exact same, down to the size and the placement and every little loop and you stumble forwards to get a better look, “Yunho,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Has yours always been red?” You reach out, your fingertips hovering just over it. 

He shakes his head, “Not before today,” 

“Mine’s the same,” You tell him, your eyes glued to his sternum, “just the same,” 

You know every centimeter of this tattoo. You’ve studied it a thousand times in the mirror, tracing over every curve with your eyes, trying to find the place where the cord starts and ends. He sucks in a sharp breath as your fingers brush gently along his mark, and you feel the ghost of the sensation against your own. 

“I can’t believe we never knew,” You murmur, sliding your finger along each rounded edge. 

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?” 

You’re nodding and moving to tug off your sweater before you can even think it through. He starts to shake his head, to say that you don’t have to, but you’re already tossing the sweater next to his discarded shirt and tugging down the front band of your bralette so he can see the whole mark. 

His eyes flick over you fast, but with the matching mark in front of him he doesn’t focus on anything else, “It’s exactly the same,” 

“I know,” You reach for his hand, but the minute more of your skin connects with his you feel your chest throb and you drop it like it burns you. 

He winces, touching his chest again, “Is it supposed to hurt?” 

“In the beginning,” You nod, “I think?” 

“Does it always feel like that?” 

“I’m not sure,” You admit, “I was going to call my sister and ask, but it’s too early at home,” 

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?” 

“In highschool,” You smile back, “they’ve been bonded together since they were eighteen,” 

“Older or younger?” He asks, and you realize just how little you know about each other despite how long you’ve worked alongside him. 

“Younger,” You say.  

“I have a little brother,” He replies, “but he’s still in school,” 

You nod, painfully aware that this is such a strange conversation to have with your shirts off just standing in the middle of a hotel room, but somehow it’s easier than any date you’ve ever had. 

Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mark and he reaches out a hand again, “Can I?” 

Your heart quickens and you nod. 

His fingertips graze over the edge of your mark, mimicking your touch from before, sliding along the edges of the tattoo. His eyes widen and you know he’s feeling the sensation in his own mark, a mirror image of each other. 

“This doesn’t hurt,” He observes, letting his fingers linger. 

“I think we have to get used to each other,” You remember that fact from somewhere, “the link has been dormant for a long time, I think it takes a minute to get used to having it,” 

“Makes sense,” He murmurs, his eyes still squarely on your mark, “I’ll be honest though, I still really want to touch you,” 

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready. 

His fingers fall away and he nods, “Don’t you?” 

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly. 

He swallows tightly and takes the smallest step forwards, before offering out his hand, palm up and waiting for you.

Your eyes flick from his face down to his outstretched hand, and you reach for him slowly. You let your fingertips skate over the skin of his palm, down each digit, ghost the pads of your fingertips together. It’s warm, sharp and dizzying even just to brush against each other. 

You wonder what more will feel like. 

“Can I try something?” He murmurs, his voice nearly a whisper even though you’re all alone. 

You nod. 

He wets his lips unconsciously and moves a little closer, your bodies now only inches apart. Anxiety, anticipation, thrill, it all runs through your gut like a whirling wind and you shiver at the torrent of his emotions, a grin breaking out over your face. 

His smile mirrors yours, “Your heart’s beating a mile a minute,” 

“You can feel that?” 

“Yeah,” He breathes, grin widening, “this is crazy,” 

You laugh, a little nervous, a little elated, and he finally reaches out his hands. 

He takes a steadying breath, and then his fingertips brush along your jaw. 

You suck in a sharp gasp at the sensation, electric and hot, the feeling rocketing through your entire body. You tilt your face up to his as he continues his gentle touches, your eyes watching him as he studies you. His plush lips are parted, brown eyes wide with awe as he grows a little bolder to brush over your cheeks, down your throat, and back up to your jawline. 

“Feel alright?” He murmurs. 

You nod into his touch and he starts to lift off but you reach for him, “Don’t stop,” 

Your hands land safely on his hips, still covered by his sweatpants and you watch him swallow again at the sudden contact, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Warmth fills the bond, no doubt the first threads of his arousal, and you wonder if he can feel your own. If he can sense how much he’s affecting you with just his fingertips on your face. 

His hands settle back on your skin, this time smoothing across you with his palms, one hand cupping your cheek and the other sliding over your shoulder and down your bare back. 

You can barely breathe, the room so silent and around you, like the only thing in the universe that exists is the two of you orbiting each other, standing at the precipice of something so catastrophic and wonderful. 

Your hands adjust, resting on his taut abdomen as you move a little closer together, and his eyes flutter shut as he breathes through the sensation of your hands on him properly for the first time. 

“You’re so warm,” You murmur, your hands softly tracing his abdominal muscles, instinct guiding you to touch more of him, seek out every inch of him as you unconsciously make a map of his body in your mind. 

He hums pleasantly, eyes reopening, “So are you,” 

He feels so right, so essential under your touch. 

Yunho wets his lips softly with his tongue, and a nervous thrill passes through your belly. His eyes flick over you, the pad of his thumb sweeping a line over your lips. You suppress a needy sound, still trying to keep your head amidst the thrumming emotions and steady thumps of your heart. 

He doesn’t stop, just stroking your skin slowly, fingers on your back pressing just a little as he sighs. 

“Yunho,” You shiver. 

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer. 

“N-no,” Your body is all but pressed flush against him now, and you have to lean your face up even more just to see him as he stands tall over you. 

“I…” He starts to say something but lets the words die off, like he’s thinking something through, but then he sighs, “forget it,” 

His lips are on yours. 

Yunho lifts you, wrapping his arms around your back and tugging you up into his embrace. You gasp against his mouth, finding his shoulders to hold onto as one of his arms bands around your lower back. 

The kiss is shattering, the world tilting once again, a new frequency humming between your two bodies. It’s hot, your skin buzzing from the contact, but the way you move together is fluid and easy. Your legs part naturally, settling around his hips and his free hand finds your plush thigh as he tugs you into place, slotting your bodies together like they were always meant to be. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles against your lips when he draws in a quick breath, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. His nose nuzzles against yours, and his lips part at the same moment yours do, tongues meeting in the space between your mouths to flick against each other. 

“Don’t,” You push closer to him, fingers knotting into the back of his hair as you kiss him back. 

He hums, the hand on your thigh sliding up to cup your ass and you shiver as his wide hand stretches across your backside, squeezing your pillowy flesh. 

A tiny whimper does leave you then, liquid heat spreading through your body, the combined sensation of both your arousals giving you a headrush. 

“So beautiful,” He sighs between kisses, “you’re so beautiful,” 

“Yunho,” Your voice is thready, his name a stretched out sound. 

He holds you close, nearly stumbling as he moves. You blink your eyes open just as he spins you both, pushing you up against the hotel wall and pinning you in place with the weight of his body.  You should slow things down, but nothing in your life has ever felt this good and you find yourself diving back to meet his kiss again. 

 His arm slides out from behind your back as he pushes closer, your body fully supported by the flat of the wall behind you and his hips under yours and one hand firmly anchored on your ass. With his arm free he cups your cheek, a pleased sound on his lips as he dips you back into the wall and deepens the kiss. 

Heat blooms through you, your kisses getting needier, artless and desperate just to get a little closer together. The kind of kissing that sounds as messy as it is, tiny pants and moans muffled between you, skin on skin, tongue on tongue. 

“God,” He shudders, his lips breaking away, but his eyes only flick over you for a second before he dives back in. This time his lips travel, hot kisses across your jaw and back to the hollow of your ear, down your throat as he holds you a little higher on the wall for the right access. 

You grip his shoulders with one hand and lock your fingers in his mess of black hair with the other, your head falling back against the wall. He pants against your throat, a soft groan as he kisses, and your stomach tightens pleasantly. 

“Y-Yunho,” You gasp, arousal rolling through you, and unconsciously you rock your hips, desperately seeking some kind of friction. 

He hums low in his throat, kissing back up your neck fast to get to your lips again and his hand slides off your cheek as he crowds you tighter, bracing himself against the wall above your head. His abdomen presses against your core, and even through layers of fabric you feel his heat. Hungrily, you roll your hips again and catch a little pressure, moaning in earnest against his mouth. 

Yunho makes a tight sound and then he breaks the kiss, his forehead pressing hard against yours as he takes in slow breaths, his body all but trembling with need as he holds you. 

“We need to slow down,” He manages. 

You can’t find words, not yet, but you nod against him. 

“You deserve better,” He says, “dates, presents,” 

You laugh softly, your hand in his hair softening from a grip to a gentle hold, carding through the long locks at the base of his neck, “I don’t need all that,”  

He smiles wide, brushing off your words, “Still,” He sighs, still recovering from the heated make out, “I think I have more self control than fulfilling our bond by fucking you into the wall,” 

Reality bleeds back in at that. Soulmarks were just that, indicator marks. A way to find your person amidst a sea of thousands, if not millions. All the shared sensation and emotion a precursor to something more permanent and binding, something only sealed together by sex. 

You lift your head up, and he leans back to mirror you. 

“I lost my head there,” You admit, warm blush in your cheeks, “I didn’t know it would feel like this,” 

He smiles, and you take in his expression. His hair is a mess, mussed and disheveled and his face is pink from his nose down to the dark, well-kissed curve of his lips. His bare chest is flushed bright pink and his eyes are bright and warm. You fight the urge to kiss him again. 

“Me either,” He shakes his head, “it’s incredible,” 

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly. 

He makes a soft sound to agree and then starts to push back from the wall gingerly, letting you slowly unwrap your legs from his waist and ease down to the floor. 

He lets you go when you’re steady on your feet and clears his throat, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants and running a hand through his tangled locks. He’s hard, that much is obvious from the distinct outline of his cock through the gray fabric, but you do your best to look away and not think about how thick and heavy it looked just from kissing you. 

“Jesus,” He adjusts his sweats again, “sorry,” 

“It’s fine,” You cup your own cheeks with cool fingers, “I promise you’re not the only one,” 

His eyes hold yours for a lengthy beat and then he swallows, taking a wide step back and nodding, “Right,” he shakes his head, “we’re supposed to be slowing down.” 

“Slow,” You lean against the wall behind you, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to steady your thumping heart. 

“I’m going over here,” He grins and walks to the far wall by the door to the bathroom, leaning back and crossing his own arms, “we really should talk,” 

A pulse of anxiety flickers through you, and you realize just how quickly you went from his hotel room door to nearly falling into bed. He’s handsome, a kind man, your once upon a time crush, and certainly fated to be a good match for you, but that doesn’t mean you should throw out good sense and rush things. No matter how much your impulses were screaming at you to do just that.

You try to ignore the fact that there’s a bed between you, and you nod, “You’re right,” you finally say, “we barely know each other,” 

Yunho’s smile fades just a bit, “I wouldn’t say that,” 

“We’re coworkers,” The words tumble out, “I know what we’re both feeling, but,” 

His brow furrows as he thinks through your words and he shakes his head, “y/n,” he cuts you off, “do you believe in soulmates?” 

“Yes, of course,” Even if you hadn’t before, the way you’re feeling now would be enough to dispel any skeptic. 

He takes in a quick breath, the sound sharp as he draws it through his teeth and he cocks his head slightly to the side, “You’re scared,” he massages the top of his sternum with his fingers, and you recognize your own chest is tight with anxiety, “I can feel it, talk to me.” 

The instant vulnerability of the bond is startling, and you can feel your own expression crumble. It’s suddenly a bit like being an ant caught under a magnifying glass, too much sharp attention all at once and you swallow tightly, eyes flicking away from his tender gaze. 

“y/n,” He murmurs, “I’m not pushing for more, not tonight,” 

“Yeah,” Your voice is soft, too quiet for your own liking. Something about the way he sees you so clearly and so quickly makes you feel exposed, nervous and strangely childlike. 

“Hey,” He breaks through your little thought spiral, “look at me,”

You straighten up again, finding his eyes. 

“I’m just happy I found you,” He tells you, and you feel the truth of it in your gut, “we can figure everything else out together, and at our own pace, okay?” 

Relief spreads through you, the knot in your chest loosening, “Promise?” 

“Promise,” He nods, raising one hand with his pinky extended, “I just want us to try,” 

You nod, extending your own pinky to seal it, “Me too.” 

He smiles at that, “Barely know each other,” he scolds softly, “I’m offended.” 

“Oh yeah?” Tension bleeds out of your shoulders. 

“Mhm,” His expression is full of cheek, “I’m the one with a crush, remember? I notice things,” 

Your stomach flips pleasantly and your arms relax from their tight position crossed over your chest, “What things?” 

“Let’s see,” He starts, and for a brief moment you think maybe he’s bluffing, but the moment he starts you melt and he holds your gaze as he warmly recites all the little things he’s noticed about you over the years. 

“You only wear silver jewelry,” he notes first, nodding towards you. 

Your tight hands uncurl. 

“You have a ridiculous sweet tooth,” The more he talks the more he relaxes against the far wall, “and you start getting flushed after the second shot of soju, you really are a lightweight,” 

“You always pick a Big Bang song for karaoke, and you’re late to work every Monday,” He laughs a little at that and keeps going, “you don’t wear a lot of color but when you do it’s red. We’re both from Gwangju but you moved to Seoul when you were five,” 

Your heart starts to beat a little faster, warmth filling you again and you don’t know if it’s your affection or his anymore, but it hardly matters. 

“Um,” He takes a deep breath and glances away for a moment and then catches more threads from his memory, “you’re a Sagittarius, you’re a runner, and the last book I saw you reading was Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. I bought it, but I haven’t had a chance to read it just yet,” 

“Yunho,” You find yourself smiling, a hand over your surprised lips. 

“I’m just saying,” He shrugs a little, “we aren’t strangers. I know this is scary and fast and going to change the rest of our lives,” 

Elation, pure joy, spills over unfettered from his side of your new emotional tether. 

“But I like you,” He confesses, “I have for a while, and this,” he brushes his fingers along his soulmark, “just changes the timeline.” 

He’s yours. 

You push off the wall, crossing the room and all but leap back into his embrace, your arms looping around his shoulders again as you push up on tiptoe to kiss his lips. 

“This is real,” You murmur. 

“Yes,” He cups your cheeks, nodding as he pecks your lips again. 

“You’re mine,” 

“Yes,” He grins. 

“Oh, this is crazy,” You laugh, forehead against his again. 

“We’ll go slow,” He assures you again, “we’ll figure it out together,” 

“Together,” You nod. 

He dips low once more, this kiss more tender, and he separates you both before things can heat up again. “Hmm,” He glances across the bed and makes a small face at the time displayed on the digital clock, “did you eat?” 

“I tried to,” You confess, “I was nervous,” 

“You need to eat,” He snaps up his black shirt from the bed and slips it back on, and your chest warms. It’s strangely domestic, strangely commonplace like you’ve been in this position a thousand times before. 

Yunho adjusts his shirt and then kisses your hair as he passes by you, padding over to the hotel microwave and searching through the assorted snacks and instant meals, “It’s too late for room service,” 

“I’m okay,” You pull your own sweater back on and sit on the edge of his bed. 

“y/n,” He glances back, a softly scolding tone. 

“Really, you need to sleep,” You offer. 

He dismisses that thought, “But I’m hungry, eat with me?” 

You concede, and while he starts whipping up two servings of ramen, you wonder if this is what he’s going to be like. It makes sense, he’s always been a caretaking kind of person, but having it so tenderly directed at you feels right. 

“When we get home,” He says as he pours in the spice packets, “I’ll take you somewhere nice,” 

“This is nice,” You smile. 

“y/n,” He sets the ramen on a side table and sits next to you, “this is cup noodle from a hotel microwave,”

“The company is nice,” You take the ramen happily though, and tuck into the warm meal.

“It is,”

“Mm, you know,” You slurp back some noodles and softly clear your throat, “you weren’t the only one with a crush,” 

He freezes, letting his noodles drop back into his cup, “What?” 

“I’ve always liked you,” Your own confession feels easier after his, “I put it aside since we work together, but I guess, I mean, what I’m trying to say is that we both felt it before the mark, you’re not alone in that.” 

 “I had no idea,” 

“I’m very professional,” You tease him lightly. 

He nudges you and tucks back into his noodles, “How long?” 

“Hmm,” You get more comfortable, crossing your legs and scooting back a little onto the mattress, “I thought you were cute when we first met,” 

“God,” He groans, “we were such kids,” 

You nod, swallowing another bite, “Mhm, you had that blonde hair,” 

He laughs. 

“I remember thinking, ‘that one’s trouble’,” You confess. 

“Me?” His eyebrows perk up, “I’m perfectly nice,” 

“Trouble as in you’re my type,” You roll your eyes, “but I don’t think the crush properly came until later. You’ve always made me laugh, and when I realized how I was feeling I just did my best to keep some distance,” 

He nods, face getting a little serious, “I know what you mean,” 

That knowledge leaves you both a little quiet. The late hour, the adrenaline come down, all of it barrels into you at the same moment as the next anxious thought. How in the world were you both going to navigate this with a contract as tight as theirs and the public eye always watching? 

“Yunho,” You murmur, the last of your noodles left to go cold as you sit with that thought, “Are we going to be able to figure this out?” 

“Figure what out?” He looks genuinely confused by your question, “Us?” 

“You’re an idol,” You nod towards him, “I’m staff,” 

He rests a hand on your knee, “We’ll be fine,” 

“Aren’t your contracts,” You trail off, letting him fill in the blanks. 

“They’re strict, yes,” He nods, “year seven,” 

Dating, romance, even the perception of it was more than discouraged by companies in this industry, their artists contractually obligated to be single and available and dedicated only to their fans. Five years would have been the industry standard to prevent any idol from being caught out with a partner, let alone a potential soulmarked one, but seven is excessive. 

You blanch, “That’s almost two years away,” 

“We will find a way,” He says, “we’re not the first people in the industry this has happened to,” 

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?” 

He falls short, “Well, I don’t know exactly, but it’s bound to have happened.” 

“And then ruined their careers,” You groan, flopping back flat on the mattress and covering your face with a hand, “which is why we’ve never heard of them,” 

Yunho laughs, earnestly laughs, and takes the half empty ramen cup out of your hand to discard, “Maybe, but for now, let’s just stay positive. Get to know eachother better,” 

You nod. 

“Nothing can change the fact that we found each other,” He points out, dropping down onto his side on the bed next to you, “and I’m okay with that.” 

“So we just lie to everyone?” You chew at the inside of your lip, staring up at the white ceiling. 

“Hey,” Yunho’s fingers tuck under your chin and draw your eyes to him, “I know you’re anxious,” 

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again. 

“I know,” He repeats, “I am too, but we don’t have to decide anything tonight. We’re both tired and it’s been an emotional day,” 

“Okay,” You nod, “okay, yes, you’re right,” 

His thumb strokes over your cheek again, and you watch him exhale and sink further into your touch, “Will you stay tonight?” 

That wakes you up. 

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?” 

“Just to sleep,” He assures you, “I just… I don’t want to be without you yet,” 

“I need to get back before Iseul wakes up if we do that,” You note with a grimace. 

“What time?” He glances back to the clock. 

“Seven,” You say, “her alarm is set for seven-thirty,” 

“We can do that,” He grabs his phone off the side table and sets an alarm, “we’ll get up,” 

The pull between your bodies is so strong you’re fairly sure you would have stayed no matter the consequences, but you nod, “Then I’ll stay,” 

He grins and pushes himself off the bed, “I’ve got clothes, if you want to get comfortable,” 

“Sure,” you sit up and wait for him to find things in his still packed suitcase. 

“Um,” He pulls a pair of black sweatpants from the bag, “these should work, and if you get cold,” 

You smile as he grabs a gray hoodie and comes back to you. 

As you start to pull off your sweater again, he turns around and leaves his back to you, “Sorry,” 

“Thanks,” You chuckle, making short work of changing. You’re swimming in his clothes, but his sweatshirt smells like him and you just want to bury your face into it, “you can turn around now,” 

His shoulders relax as he turns back, and you watch his lips part as he takes you in. 

“What?” 

“You look cute,” He clears his throat, shrugging off his reaction. 

You smile and ease back onto the bed, “Oh, I get it,” you laugh, “is your guy brain on fire because I’m wearing your clothes? Is this some kind of… you won the competition, ownership thing?” 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, kneeling on the bed to shuffle closer, “No competition when you’re literally fated for me,” 

“Right,” You let the word drag out on your tongue to tease him. 

“But I like taking care of you already, and now you’re warm and comfortable,” He collapses next to you onto the mattress with a sigh, “and I know I don’t own you, but you are mine, just like I’m yours now. I won’t apologize for liking you in my clothes or in my bed, for liking when you look like my girlfriend,” 

Warmth blooms in your cheeks and you duck your face into the sheets. 

“Now come get under the covers,” He maneuvers the duvet, “it’s late, you were dead on your feet today,” 

His voice is so warm and familiar, and you slide into the covers beside him. 

In bed you keep a little distance, and despite the number of times both of you say that you should go to sleep, your conversation is almost impossible to stop. Yunho holds your hand in the middle space of the mattress between your bodies, and in the dim lighting of the hotel room you whisper thought after thought back and forth. A million things coming to mind you need to tell each other so suddenly now that you’ve found each other. 

As you talk his fingers travel, restlessly stroking your skin, up and down your arm and tapping out patterns. When his palm slides back and forth over the sharp lines of the tattoos on your upper arm, and you feel the question slipping out of your lips and revealing more about yourself than you intended before you can catch it. 

“Your parents,” You blurt out, “will they be happy?” He’s spoken about them so much over the past hour that you can’t help but ask him that question point blank. 

“So happy,” He responds with ease, a laugh on his lips, “they always worried me being an idol meant I’d never be able to find the one and settle down, they’re going to love this story,” 

You smile at the easy way he calls you ‘the one’, but the question you really asked still remains unanswered and you exhale softly, “But,” you manage, “will they be happy with me?” 

Yunho stills, reaching across the bed to hook his finger under your chin and draw your eyes up to his again, “Very happy,” he says, “just like I am.” 

Your muscles relax, his words a soothing balm, and you adjust your position on the pillow beneath you, “Just checking,” 

“Mhm,” He studies your face, “jagi, why wouldn’t they be happy with you?” 

The endearment slips off his lips with ease, and a burst of warmth spreads through you. You’ve never needed pet names and softness like this from a partner, but from him it makes your heart quicken. 

The momentary elation fades though, and his question comes back into your mind. You take a deep breath, you owe it to him to tell him now, “My family won’t be happy,” 

“With me?” His eyebrows raise. 

“It’s me,” You shake your head, “my parents have difficult ideals, and I’ve never pleased them. It wouldn’t matter who you were, they… they’ll find a way to not be happy for me.”

His eyes soften, and his thumb strokes along your jaw, “I’m sorry,” 

“It is what it is,” 

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly. 

You shake your head, “No, they don’t really believe in soulmarks,” 

You watch his eyes widen in surprise. 

“Unless,” You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “the match is ‘fortuitous’,” 

“For status?” He surmises. 

“Status, money,” You shrug, “connection. But I think I could marry the next president and they’d still find a way to be disappointed in me,” 

His jaw flexes tense for just a moment, before his expression smooths over again. 

“Anyway,” You clear the bad thoughts away as quickly as they came, “my sister and I never went along like they wanted, like my cousins and the rest of my family, so we are the great disappointments. It’s not… it’s fine, but, I guess you should know before we, you know,” 

He smiles, a bit of amusement in his expression that you can’t place, “Did you think having bad parents would scare me off?” 

“It could,” 

“No,” He slides a hand under your side and tugs you across the mattress to press a fast kiss to your lips, “it never could.” 

“But I’m,” You start, all the reasons why a partner might care ringing in your ears. 

“Beautiful?” He cuts you off, “Just my type? If it’s anything else I don’t want to hear you say it,” 

Your stomach flip flops hard and you push lightly against his chest to get him to stop. 

“The thing is,” He brushes your hair back from your cheek, “my parents are soulmates. I grew up in a house full of a lot of love, even when they were being strict and scolding us.” 

Your smile at his warm expression. 

“So I know they’ll love you,” He explains, “they know what this feels like, what it means. I have plenty of family for us both,” 

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment. 

“Your sister, though,” He grounds you out of the bad thoughts without even thinking, “you two are close?” 

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles. 

“You two would get along great, my sister and her wife both, actually,” 

Yunho nods, listening attentively, “Do they have kids?” 

“Not yet,” You groan, “but I’m dying to be an auntie,” 

His thumb drags a comforting line across your cheekbone, his expression warm and affectionate, “Cute,” 

You sink into the pillows, a yawn creeping up to your lips, “She’s going to lose her mind when I call her,”  

“Yeah?” 

“Mm,” You huff a laugh, “she thought that when I started working here I should have found an inconspicuous way to bump into all of you to test possible bonds. She’s going to be riding the ‘I told you so’ train.” 

“She’s funny,” He smirks. 

“Very,” You sigh, unconsciously cuddling into his warmth. 

“Has it been a while since you’ve seen her?” He asks softly, adjusting his arms around you so that you’re cradled against his chest with the pillows at your back. 

“Mhm,” You yawn again, the warmth of his body settling the last of the adrenaline inside you, “a while,” 

“Let’s find a day off after the tour,” He tucks the duvet around you. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy. 

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead. 

“Yunho,” You yawn again, dipping your forehead into his chest, “God, I’m so tired again,” 

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,” 

You hum softly, fingers slipping under the edge of his shirt just to feel a little skin, “I like that,” you murmur, “I like you,” 

“I like you too,” He chuckles, “now go to sleep,” 

A piece of you wants to protest, wants more time cocooned in this day with him, but something about his body feels so right. After a week of sleeping poorly, your body tight and anxious and heart fluttering for no reason at all, when he touches you, your mind goes blissfully blank. 

Your muscles relax, your breath dropping low and soft in your chest. 

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

You’re supposed to wake up to an alarm. Early enough that you could slip back into your hotel room and your own bed to yawn and stretch next to Iseul and make her believe you were there the whole night. That’s what was supposed to happen. 

Instead, you wake to the heavy sound of a hotel door and Seonghwa’s voice, Yunho jolting awake beside you. 

“Oh my god,” Seonghwa says for what sounds like the third time to your fuzzy sleep-addled brain, “oh my god?” 

“Hyung,” Yunho pushes himself up, his arms unwinding from around you, “hey, don’t freak out,” 

“Don’t freak out,” Seonghwa’s eyes blow wide, “are you fucking kidding me? Hongjoong is going to kill you,”

“You don’t understand,” Sleep is still heavy on him and he shakes his head to try to pull himself away. 

“I understand plenty,” Seonghwa counters, “how long have you been lying to us?” 

His reaction surprises you, and you ease yourself up to sit next to Yunho. You’re not sure what to say or not say, you don’t know what they’ve discussed in the past when it comes to dating and relationships, but by  Seonghwa’s outburst you can guess it’s honesty at a minimum. 

Yunho’s face falls, “No, it’s not that,” 

“I can tell you what it looks like,” Seonghwa lowers his voice to what amounts to a stage whisper. 

“Hyung,” Yunho rubs his eyes, running a hand through his mop of black hair. 

“It looks like you’ve been sneaking around,” He continues, “how long have you two been fucking?” 

“Hey,” Yunho’s voice sharpens, and his hand crosses your body to anchor on your opposite thigh. 

Seonghwa’s eyes track it and he shakes his head, “This is so stupid,” he steps back in surprise, “you’re both being so, incredibly stupid.” 

Yunho gives you a squeeze and opens his mouth to reply but Seonghwa keeps going. 

“Naive is what it is,” 

Irritation bubbles in your gut and you can’t stop yourself, “Seonghwa, will you shut up for one second?” 

He stops in his tracks, mouth falling open, “What?” 

“Can you please,” You hold his gaze, “please, just listen to Yunho for a minute before you jump to conclusions.” 

He shifts, taking a step back and crossing his arms, and then he looks to Yunho. 

Yunho finds your eyes quickly, silently asking, and you give him a nod. 

“Okay,” Yunho runs a hand through his hair again, “I’ll just say it.” 

Seonghwa waits, his expression completely neutral except for the irritated corner of his lips.

“y/n is my soulmate,” Yunho squeezes your thigh again and you slip your hand into his to twine your fingers together, “we didn’t know, but now we do.” 

Seonghwa’s brows go high, shock filling his features. 

“We’re not hiding,” You add, “we just… it’s just,” 

“How long?” Seonghwa manages. 

“Soundcheck yesterday,” Yunho says, “we haven’t known long enough to lie, hyung.” 

“You’re sure?” He looks between you both, and you know what he’s thinking. How could it be possible to know each other for years and not know. 

“We’re sure,” You answer confidently, calmly, “I swear,” 

“It’s real,” Yunho’s thumb strokes across knuckles, “it��s very real.” 

Seonghwa swallows, taking in the news and sinks back against the hotel dresser, “Well, fuck,” 

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs. 

“You were off timing yesterday,” Seonghwa points out, “and distracted,” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Yunho grimaces. 

“No, but,” He shrugs, “I know you and you’re never off time.” 

“It wasn’t easy to focus on the show yesterday,” Yunho admits. 

“I’m sorry,” You nudge him with your shoulder, knowing a huge portion of that must have been the panic flooding his side of the link. 

He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to be sorry for,”

When you look back up, Seonghwa is smiling and he sighs, “Oh, you’ve both got it bad.” 

“Obviously,” You hide your face in your sweatshirt sleeve. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Seonghwa asks, “Because you can’t act like this around anyone else,” 

Your mouth feels dry. 

“We don’t know,” Yunho answers, “we have to figure that out, for now I think we just try to keep things normal.” 

Seonghwa nods and then leans forward, “Listen, I know you’re not asking for my advice,” 

You both wait. 

“But you're my brother,” Seonghwa says unequivocally, “so I’m going to give you some anyway.” 

Yunho nods. 

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” Seonghwa points out, “and I’m sure it will be hard to act like acquaintances in front of everyone, but you have to do it, at least until you make a plan.” 

“Yeah,” Yunho’s cheeks are a little pink and he squeezes your hand. 

“No one fires the idol for things like this,” He reminds you both, “so for her sake, put it away for today.” 

“He’s right,” You nod, “today we go back to coworkers,” 

Yunho draws your clasped hands up and kisses your fingers, “Okay,” 

“You’re lucky I offered to check on you,” Seonghwa sighs heavily, “if any of the managers came in,” 

“Check on me?” Yunho perks up at that, “Hwa, why,” 

Things come into focus for you at that moment, how bright the hotel room is with sunlight, how well rested you really feel. You twist in the bed and look at the digital clock, “Oh no,” 

“You were late,” Seonghwa explains, “we figured you overslept, I offered to use the spare key to get you up.” 

“Fuck,” Yunho curses. 

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm. 

“Iseul is going to fucking kill me,” You roll out of bed, your hands breaking apart as you scramble for you phone, “what the hell am I going to tell her?” 

Your phone reads nine-thirty. In thirty minutes you’re supposed to be packed into a van and on the way to the venue and when you look at the collection of notifications your stomach churns. 

Three calls from Iseul, and a lengthy string of text messages. 

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night? 

Can you answer me?? 

I’m getting worried. I haven’t heard anything - You haven’t even read these? 

You better not be dead in a ditch, I’ll kill you myself. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Your hands are trembling as you tap out the fastest reply - Alive, be right there.

Yunho’s a whirlwind behind you, stripping out of his sleep clothes and yanking on whatever outfit is at the top of his suitcase, “It’s fine, it’s going to be fine,” 

“Sure,” You search the floor for your jeans and dart into the bathroom, “my best friend is going to murder me though,” 

You change at lightning speed, swapping his sweats for your jeans and then tying up your hair into a messy bun before pushing back out into the main room. 

“Everyone’s downstairs,” Seonghwa offers, “you shouldn’t run into anyone on the way back to your room.” 

“Good, okay, good,” Your heart is pounding, “where’s my room key?” 

“Here,” Yunho darts forwards and finds the little envelope, passing it to you, “take a breath,” 

“I have to go,” You manage, “I have to think of something,” 

“Don’t kiss and tell,” Seonghwa offers and he’s being funny but it’s vaguely helpful. 

“Wait,” Yunho grabs your hand and tugs you back, snapping your phone out of your hand. 

“Yunho, I don’t,” You start to say but he waves you off. 

He types fast, adding himself as a contact in Kakao Talk, “My number,” he explains. 

Seonghwa huffs a laugh. 

You take the phone back and tuck it into your pocket, “I’ll message you later,” 

“Good,” He dips forwards and presses one warm, tender kiss to your lips, “now get out of here,” 

You kiss him back, just once and fast, a little shred of self indulgence before you have to act like he’s just another guy, and then you’re darting out of the room, shouting back a thank you at Seonghwa as you go. 

You navigate the halls fast, and opt to take the stairs to get down one floor faster and more inconspicuously. You take a deep breath when you get to your hotel door, and then you dive. 

“So you are alive,” Iseul’s waiting, just like you thought she might be. She’s sitting on your still made bed, her phone in her hands and a tense expression on her face, “I was just about to tell the managers you were missing,” 

“I’m so sorry, seriously, I didn’t mean to worry you,” You take a few steps into the room. 

Her eyes flick over you, and you realize at the moment her eyes widen that you’re still wearing Yunho’s hoodie, your sweater still discarded on his bedroom floor. 

“You hooked up with someone?” Her voice spikes, “Are you kidding me?” 

Thankfully the hoodie is plain, just a heather gray with no identifying attributes that scream his name, but you’re still swimming in it and it’s clear you’re rumpled from bed. 

“Listen,” You hold up your hands, “I didn’t mean to not text you, I just fell asleep,” 

“With some guy?” She stands. 

“Yes,” You settle on some version of the truth. 

“Who?” She flounders, “We’re supposed to text each other,” 

And you always did, when either one of you went home with someone there was always a little preemptive safety report. A name, an address, a shared location, something so that you weren’t completely alone in the world with a strange guy. 

“I’m sorry,” You say again. 

She studies you, and it’s like she’s looking through you. 

“Oh my god,” Her eyes widen, “we know him.” 

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat. 

She points at you, “I’m right!” 

“It’s not a big deal,” You skirt around her words. 

“The only reason you wouldn’t text me is if you were with someone we both know,” She narrows her eyes, “so give it up.” 

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,” 

“Why are you being so weird?” 

“Iseul,” You sigh, avoiding her gaze, “I just woke up in a panic, and I have like fifteen minutes to get showered, can you give me the third degree later?” 

“I’m not letting this go,” 

“Yeah,” You pull off Yunho’s sweatshirt and head to the bathroom, “I know, but we have work.” 

“Work with a coworker you slept with,” She stands in the doorway while you start the shower, and you realize her tone isn’t so much as angry anymore but probing. 

“I didn’t sleep with him,” You groan, “well, I guess I did, but we didn’t have sex, okay?” 

“That’s awfully cozy for a one night stand,” She crosses her arms, “unless you’re seeing someone? Are you seeing someone?” 

“No,” You test the water heat and unbutton your jeans, “I swear I’ll explain another time, but can you just drop it for today? Or do you want to stand here and watch me shower?” 

“Fine,” She concedes, “you will tell me?” 

“I swear,” You nod, “I want to tell you, but I’m not ready yet, okay?” 

Her eyes soften up at that, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You nod, “but I’m having big feelings about it and I need to work it out,”

“Oh,” In all the years you’ve known her, she’s never seen you in love or even close, and she just blinks, “got it,” 

“Can I shower now?” You gesture towards the running water. 

“Yeah,” She steps back, “yeah, but I’m still mad you didn’t text me.” 

“Okay,” 

“And I’m still going to guess who it is,” She smirks. 

“Fine,” 

Her smile widens and she rolls her eyes, “I bet it’s one of the BB guys, isn’t it? You always like a dancer,” 

She turns the corner before she can watch you blushing harder, so nearly on the money with her guess, but you put it all out of your mind for now and focus on your day. You’re late, and it’s about to be another long one. You’ll have time for everything else later, if you can just keep your cool. 

Work is bizarre to say the least. You and Yunho both do an excellent job of not looking at each other except for when he’s in your makeup chair, and you’re getting better and better at ignoring both San’s and Seonghwa’s nervous glances. 

This time you start the makeup early, less time pressure with the schedule adjustments, and the night goes off without a hitch. Soundcheck to stage to VIP benefits, it’s a whirlwind and you’re grateful for the distractions everywhere you look. 

You can still feel him, emotions from his side of the link ebbing and flowing throughout the day, but the sharp intensity of yesterday has dulled a bit after your night together. In quiet moments you find yourself thinking about his lips, or the way his hands held you as you tumbled into sleep, but you push it down and stay professional. 

As the show ends, Iseul ropes you into team dinner, desperate to observe who you interact with and how, still on her quest to find your mystery bed partner, but the boys aren’t there and so there’s nothing for her to really see. 

Later, with Iseul passed out from one too many shots of soju, you slip back into Yunho’s hoodie and cuddle into the warmth of your own bed. You need more sleep, you know that, but your brain isn’t cooperating. You toss and turn in the sheets, body feeling like a taut cord, and all you can think of is him. 

You miss him. 

It’s not even two days of having him in your life like this and you feel nervous and achy without him. There’s no way you’ll survive two years of this. 

Over an hour passes as you sigh, changing positions again and again, and then your phone finally buzzes. You scramble to see if it’s a message from him, nearly dropping your phone in the process. 

Can’t sleep? - He must be feeling your restlessness. 

Not at all - You reply, chest feeling warm at the contact. 

Little bubbles pop up immediately to indicate he’s typing and then another message pops on your screen - You’d think after last night we’d both be exhausted.

So you’re as awake as I am? 

Just can’t relax. I liked having you here last night. - He confesses. 

You roll over in the bedding onto your front and push the pillow under your chest before you keep texting - I liked it too. I’d come up except Iseul wouldn’t lay off guessing who I was with this morning. 

Oh? Did she guess correctly? - You can practically see the smirk on his face. 

Nope - You tease back. 

Was she upset? - He asks. 

At first, but I told her I would tell her soon I just needed some time - You reply. 

That’s good, honest. - His message makes you smile. 

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out. 

Fine…. stressing and acting like a hyung, you know - He says. 

You smile and type out another message - Is he keeping this to himself for now?

Yes - Yunho’s message comes in, and then another - For now, he knows we need to decide things first. 

That’s good - You send back. 

Things lull for a moment, and you try to think of something more to say, but Yunho swoops in with a question that makes you bite your lip to keep from laughing - Who did Iseul guess you were with? Was I even on the list?

I thought you’d be happy she didn’t guess - You reply. 

Bubbles appear immediately, then another message - I’m a little offended, I’m the obvious choice.

Why’s that? - You tease him. 

You feel something warm in your chest, and his next message flies back - I thought I was your type? 

You stifle another laugh - You are, she’s not very observant.

So who did she guess? 

Your belly flip flops and you hide your face in the pillow for a moment. His obvious jealousy, even just to tease you, is making your heart quicken and you can’t stop yourself from making it harder on him. 

You take a breath and reply - About half the BB crew and a few of your managers.

The replies don’t come for a moment, and you nervously refresh the chat. 

Finally a message comes in - I’m trying to think of something funny to say, but I’m actually just irrationally jealous. 

She was just teasing, no need to be jealous - You smile into your hand. 

Doesn’t matter - He says - Now I’m just here alone wondering which of our coworkers Iseul thinks you have chemistry with

He is jealous. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the swooping sensation in your belly and press your legs a little tighter together. If you close your eyes you can feel the echo of his hands on you from last night, and all you want in the world is for him to come down here and kiss you hard like that again. 

With a slow exhale you return to your phone - Don’t be jealous, Yunho. We both know I’m yours.

Yeah? - His reply comes after a beat - No need to be jealous then.

Exactly - You reply. 

I bet you like it a little though - His message flies in as yours sends.

You feel warm all over and you run a nervous hand through your hair before replying - No, I don’t. 

Jagi, you forget I can feel how worked up you’re getting. 

Your stomach clenches, drops and twists. He’s going to be the death of you and you’re still just flirting.  

You work up the courage and finally send your reply - You’re the one that pinned me to the wall last night. 

I’ve been thinking about that all day - The message reply is fast. 

You smile and bite your lip, snuggling further into the mattress and trying to ignore the growing pulse between your thighs - You did seem distracted during rehearsals.

You feel warmth in your chest, and you know exactly how much your flirting is affecting him. Another text pings through and you shiver when you read it - How could I not be distracted with you there? All I could think about was the way you said my name last night. 

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

Or more whiny, was it? Yunho-ya? - You type it out fully, emphasizing the extended sound, knowing exactly what he wants to hear from the way he gripped you last night. 

The room is suddenly hot, and your heart beats faster to sync with his. 

It takes a moment for him to respond, bubbles popping up and then receding again and you wonder how he’s lying in bed. If he’s hard already, if he’s palming himself? You wonder if he sleeps naked when he’s alone and youre core clenches, arousal pooling in your gut and you know he can feel the threads of it. When he finally presses send on his message you have to cover your mouth to keep quiet. 

Feeling needy? Are you squirming around in that hotel bed wishing for me, sweetheart?

You feel that message from your top to your toes and you steal a fast glance at the bed next to you. Iseul is sound asleep, turned away from you and snoring softly, and you let out a relieved, shuddering breath. 

You could pump the brakes here, tease him and find a way to say goodnight, but you simply can’t. Need and arousal overwhelms you and you tap back your reply fast - I’ve been aching all day.

Do you have headphones? 

The question catches you off guard, but you write back - Yes, airpods.

Put them in - He says, and you swallow tightly, reaching for the little headphone case on your bedside table. 

Your fingers are shaking as you take them out of the case and put them in, making sure they’re connected before you reply - Done. 

His call lights up your phone, ringing in your headphones and you swipe to answer with a panicked glance at the bed next to you, but Iseul sleeps on, none the wiser. 

“y/n?” His voice is so rich and quiet, a little raspy edge after singing all night and you nearly moan. 

“Hi,” You whisper as soft as you can, “I can’t,” 

“Don’t talk,” He soothes you, “don’t wake Iseul up, I’ll talk to you and you can text me back, okay?” 

You minimize the call and open your chat back up, sending him a quick emoji to acknowledge his words. 

“Perfect,” He laughs softly, “this is way easier than texting. Listen, I know we said slow, but I’d love to help you relax if you want that. If not, I can just say goodnight, it’s up to you.” 

You exhale softly, a needy thrill in your gut - Let’s relax together. 

“Oh,” He sighs pleasantly, “yes, I’d love that.” 

You want me? - You ask. 

“You can feel how much I do,” He responds, “I’m sitting here convincing myself not to come downstairs and get my hands on you.” 

You hum softly, shifting in the sheets and relaxing deeper into the pillows. 

You hear his own breath, the way he parts his lips with a wet sound, “Can you tell me what position you’re in?” 

You tap out the reply - Lying on my front, on my stomach. 

“Hmm,” He sounds pleased, “I bet you look so cute, all twisted up in the sheets and blushing,” 

I was tossing and turning. 

“I bet you were,” He groans a little, “I tried everything. I hit the gym, cold shower, did some deep breathing, but you have me so keyed up I can’t sleep,” 

You send him another emoji, the blushing face. 

He laughs, the rumble of it too deep and warm in your ear with your headphones in. 

You tap out another message - What position are you in? Trying to picture it. 

You hear him shift around in the sheets, “I’m on my back,” 

Wearing? 

He chuckles, “Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking what you’re wearing?” 

I asked you first.

“Fair,” He shifts again, and you picture him restless on his back in the bed you shared the night before, “just boxers,” 

A heavy sigh passes through your lips. 

“And you?” 

You wish it were sexier all of a sudden, but that just wouldn’t be practical in a room with your friend so you tell him honestly - Pajamas, the button down kind, they’re gray. 

“God, you’re adorable,” The covers on his end shift again, “wish you were up here with me.” 

Me too 

“This is probably better,” He says though, “I don’t think I could hold myself back for another night.” 

Me either - You confess. 

“y/n,” His voice warms, low in his chest, “jagiya, can I help you? Can I tell you what I want you to do?” 

Your hands are shaking and you type the reply so fast there’s a typo that you have to fix - Pfease - Please.

He chuckles, “Alright, get comfortable, just listen to my voice, okay?” 

You message him one last thought - What about you?

“I’m… I’m, uh,” He lets out a shaky breath, “I’m already stroking for you,” 

You press your lips together to keep from making a sound, dropping your forehead to the pillow in front of you. 

That’s so hot - You text him quickly when you hear him say your name, probably a little nervous he came on too strong. 

He hums, “Good,” he says, “then don’t worry about me, just listen to my voice.” 

You set your phone to the side, snuggling into the mattress and the pillows just like he asked for, sparing one more glance at Iseul to confirm she’s still completely out of it. 

“Comfy?” He asks when you stop shifting around. 

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper. 

“Good,” He sighs, “now slip one of your hands under your cute little pajamas, between your thighs.” 

You slide your arm down, tucking it under your body and into your sleep pants. 

“Under your panties too,” He says, his voice a little husky. 

“Mhm,” You murmur again, following his words. 

“Tease a little for me,” He instructs you, “not too fast, just your fingertips on the outside,” 

You breathe low and slow, gently passing the pads of your fingers over your slit, just barely ghosting against the hard nub of your clit. 

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” He groans a little and you hear the sound of sheets, “you make the cutest faces when you’re feeling good,” 

You make the tiniest noise of acknowledgement, fingers still brushing your cunt. 

“Can’t wait to see you fall apart for real,” He confesses, a strain in his tone as he sighs, and you picture him. His long legs spread wide in the bed, stretching from corner to corner, his boxer briefs pushed down and his hand fisting his cock. 

You’re going to lose it when you finally get to touch him again. 

“You can touch now,” He murmurs, getting your attention back, “are you wet?” 

You push your fingers through your folds and sigh when you feel just how slick and swollen you are. With your other hand you find the phone nearby and tap out a quick message - So wet

“That’s good, that’s so good,” 

Your fingers start to circle on your oversensitive nub and there’s no way he won’t have you coming in five minutes or less with it feeling this good and his heavy breath in your ear. 

“R-rub your clit for me,” He pants and your eyes roll, you can hear the sounds of the sheets rhythmically swishing as he pumps his cock harder, “get your fingers nice and wet,” 

You whimper into the pillow, biting down hard on your cheek to keep yourself in check. 

“Oh, fuck,” He groans, “sound so pretty,” 

You rub harder, faster, your legs stretching wide under the downy comforter to give you better access. 

“Baby,” He gets your attention with that, “push two fingers inside yourself, imagine I’m there with you,” 

You shift, hand slipping lower and body arching to slide your middle and ring finger as deep as they’ll go. You stay mostly quiet this time, but your breathing is heavy and you’re sure he can hear it. 

“Close your eyes,” He murmurs, “picture my fingers,” 

You gasp softly. 

“Grind,” He tells you, “grind your pussy on my palm and feel my fingers fucking you,” 

You bite back a moan, only the slip of a soft sound into the microphone as you start to rock, rolling your hips and working your clit against your hand as you sink into his fantasy. You always took him for soft, the romantic type who’d blush at saying the word ‘pussy’ let alone talking you through what’s bound to be the headiest orgasm of your life, but you’ve never been so happy to be wrong. 

“Yes,” Yunho moans and you shudder, “I can hear you moving, you’re doing so good,” 

Pleasurable stars burst behind your eyes and you grind harder into your slick palm. 

“So good,” He groans and you hear him roll in the bedding, his voice changing to something lower and breathier, and then the rhythmic rock of sheets from his side of the phone tells you all you need to know. You can almost see it, Yunho braced on his forearms, hips thrusting to drive his cock in and out of his hot fist, his face buried in the pillow you slept on the night before. 

Heat melts through you, your body alight, and you grapple to find the phone again - Close

“Already?” He says in a flushed exhale, “You’re so hot, that’s so hot,” 

You need him to talk to you, you need him to tell you what to do, and you whimper into the bedding as you work your body faster up to the peak. 

“You gonna come for me?” He murmurs, “Yeah? Hmm?” 

You drop the phone and press a hand over your lips, stifling the threat of a real moan. 

“Let go,” His voice is so low in your ear you can practically feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, “come for me,” 

Your legs are trembling, knees digging into the mattress and sweat gathered on your brow, and you feel the pressure start to crack open inside you, “Coming,” you whimper into your fingers so he knows, and then it breaks. 

“God, good girl, yes,” He groans, “I’m coming with you, fuck,” 

Your body curls into itself as you release, locking up in pleasure as you feel wave after wave of heat. You bite down on your knuckle to keep from making a sound, silently falling apart, dimly aware somewhere in your gut that half the heat you felt was his, that part of that pleasure was his own. 

Yunho moans in your ear as you ride the sensations, panting and cursing and you can’t wait to feel him pulsing inside you while he sounds this good. 

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover, but when your brain starts to connect again you realize you’re panting against the cool flat of the mattress and both your phone and pillow are nowhere to be found. You swallow hard and pop your head up, but Iseul hasn’t moved an inch and you thank god for her liberal use of melatonin while traveling. 

In your ear you register the sound of Yunho’s breath and the end of a sentence, “still there?” 

He must have been talking, and you try to focus in on the sound of him now as you slip your hand out from between your sticky thighs. 

He exhales slowly and you hear him shifting around, “y/n, baby, are you there?” 

 “Uh-huh,” You manage. 

“Sleepy?” He murmurs, misreading your sound, “That’s okay,” 

You make a tiny noise of protest and search the bed for your phone. 

“Baby?” He’s confused and you grin at his sleepy sated tone. 

Sliding off the bed onto nearly boneless legs, you find your pillow off to the side and your phone underneath. You snap it up and send a message quickly - Wait

“Wait?” He breathes, “Sure, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here,” 

You tiptoe to the bathroom as quietly as you can and then shut yourself behind the heavy door, flicking on the light and collapsing to sit on the closed toilet lid. 

You disconnect your earbuds and bring your phone to your ear, “Hey,” 

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You smile, still a little breathless, “Hiding in the bathroom for a sec so I could actually talk to you,” 

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,” 

“Are you okay?” You find yourself asking, a little nervous tumble in your gut. 

“Me?” He says, “I’m incredible, you’re incredible,” 

“Yeah?” You draw your knees up, wrapping your arms around yourself and smiling into the phone. 

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” He checks, but you still hear the sound of him calling you ‘good girl’ and you shiver. 

“Not too much,” You sigh into the phone. 

“Good,” He hums, “I thought so, I was trying to pay attention to how you were feeling, but it was a little,”

“Hard to focus?” You offer and he laughs. 

“Yeah,” He sighs again, heavy and sated. 

“I can’t wait for this tour to be over,” You confess, “I just want to be with you,” 

You feel a pang in your chest and listen as Yunho rolls in the sheets, “I know, I want that too,” 

A little lump forms in your throat and you breathe through it, “Yunho,” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Have you ever felt like this before?” Your thundering heart has started to slow, and you let your eyes close as you murmur the question. 

“Never,” He murmurs, “but I felt this way before we touched,” 

You feel his tenderness wrap around your heart as if he were in the room with you, and with a small smile you whisper, “I thought you said you weren’t holding a candle?” 

“I lied,” He says softly, “it’s been you for a long time,” 

He doesn’t say it, not in so many words, but you feel the way he loves you through the link in a wave. It’s as good as any confession to you, just as honest if not more so. 

“I wish I could come upstairs,” You manage, tears pricking your eyes. 

You hear him swallow and breathe a slow breath through his nose, “Soon, I promise. We’re going to do this right,” 

“I know,” 

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,” 

“Put them back in and go get back in bed,” He softly instructs, “it’s late, but I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?” 

“Okay,” You swap back over to your earbuds and adjust them. 

“Get back to bed,” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Yunho,” You interrupt him, “thank you for staying with me,” 

“Always,” He says, and for the first time in your life when someone says they’ll be there, you believe it. 

“I’m going back out,” Your voice drops to a whisper, “good night,” 

“Mhm,” He listens as you slip back into bed, “just get comfortable, just breathe. I’m right here with you, jagiya, I’ll be right here.” 

He murmurs to you softly until your mind is sinking into darkness, body finally unspooling and letting you drop off into sleep. It’s not the same as his arms around you, but it settles you more than any meditation, his voice a steady whisper through your dreams. 

In the morning when you wake the call is still connected and the first sound you hear is his slow breath and the steady beat of his heart.

[keferon]

My hands are shaky and my head is refusing to work properly! But! I made it!

The Blurr chapter for Mecha au >:D

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

Blurr's job is to smile for the camera and take the applause of people who praise him for his bravery and sacrifice. Blurr's job is to sell his face, his voice and his skills to millions of viewers. He must impress investors, show off advanced technology and make a determined face saying that to save mankind he is ready for anything. And then get in a luxury car and drive off to some expensive place to burn a whole bunch of zeros out of his paycheck.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

Under the cut

————————————

Nobody likes Blurr.

Okay, if you think on a large scale, everyone loooves Blurr. His face is on every poster, his brand is in every possible store, his voice and is in every cool commercial. You literally can't exist without knowing who Blurr is, or at least seeing his face once. It's a “Luke I'm your father” level phenomenon. How massive a rock do you have to live under to miss something like that?

Everybody loves Blurr. You can go buy a t-shirt with his face on it. You can go listen to his interviews or purchase a tiny replica of his action figure. There are incredibly many ways a Blurr fan can blow a hole in their budget.

Swerve knows, because he's done it many times. And recently, it's stopped being something he's proud of. To be precise, it was exactly four days ago when Blurr first stepped into his office. Swerve had just finished his shift and was finishing his tea when his boss suddenly appeared in the doorway, with the best racer in the world right behind him.

The tea was instantly dropped, adrenaline was released, and the brain was turned off.

In that moment, Swerve thought that this is what it must look like. The moment when all your good karma comes together in one pile to reward you for all the times you dropped a sandwich butter side down or missed a deadline.

Both of which happened with annoying regularity. Swerve is unlucky. Sometimes things seem to fall through his hands.

It started out great.

Swindle, their boss, showed up in the office space one day looking simultaneously jubilant, nervous, and very inspired. Usually on such occasions, Swerve could almost see the dollar signs reflected in his boss's glasses.

“Attention everyone. We have an important guest arriving in an hour.”

Swindle expressively pushed his glasses down on his nose and looked around the room

“I promised him a tour and I expect you all to behave yourselves.”

He meticulously looks around the floor beneath his feet

“Send someone to clean up all the trash. This place is unbelievably filthy. The floors should be sparkling in twenty minutes! And, oh! Hey you, go buy some good drinks.”

Having finished inspecting the floor Swindle hurriedly runs off, probably to say the same thing to the neighboring department.

Swerve stretches his neck out curiously, listening in

“Is the president coming to see us?”

Walking by, Jazz shrugs

“When the president was coming Swindle said the floor was dirty and made him wear boot covers.”

It's not the president

Swindle gestures generously to the entire office at once and looks overall like a bird trying his best to primp up

“And here we have the engineering department offices. In the next building is the assembly plant, that's where the mechs are put on their feet so to speak. And this is where all the computing, design, and planning happens.”

Just over his shoulder stands and looks around at none other than

Oh, dear God.

Swerve's tea flies to the floor next to his thought processes.

He's seen Blurr countless times, but never in person. How can this guy look as good in person as he does in expensive retouched-until-squeaky-clean photos? Mystery.

Blurr's gaze slides lazily over the simple office setting and for those two seconds when it's directed at Swerve it feels like sheer madness. He tries to look normal. He's not sure he's succeeding, but he's making an effort.

Swindle waltzes through the office, heading for the next door

“Come on I'll show you the mech hangar.”

Blurr grins.

“A highlight of the show I suppose~”

His voice is like a needle bursting a ball of stunned silence. People begin to rise from their seats and scramble to say hello. Someone asks for an autograph, others ask for a bunch of selfies, a couple people in the corner hastily fix their hair, one of the employees just pulls out his phone and shamelessly starts filming.

Swindle looks at the this with an unchanging commercial smile, but his gaze promises all kinds of punishment.

Perhaps if it had been the president, the buffoonery would have been smaller.

______________

For the next few days, Blurr is the big news and the center of all discussion.

Officially? He's becoming one of the pilots in the Mecha program.

In fact? Swindle's greedy soul couldn't get enough of the idea that the Mech concept could be monetized.

The dust is blown off Blurr and his boots are licked. He doesn't go to general training, he doesn't participate in ordinary or overly dangerous missions. He's allowed everything and a little more. His job is to look pretty on camera, speak his lines, smile and wink. He's a walking advertisement and Swindle's incredibly powerful tool in negotiating with investors.

Swerve once saw him called to a negotiation in the middle of the night, and even sleep-deprived and exhausted after a full day of filming, Blurr had the strength to pull that charming expression on his face and flawlessly play along with Swindle wherever he needed to.

His mech was a work of art. And that's not even an exaggeration. Usually the main purpose of mechs is to be efficient and practical. Blurr's Mech was made separately and so many people worked on its design that it could have its own end credits. It's beautiful, sleek, shiny and show-offy. It's designed to be awe-inspiring, but not so decorated that it's ridiculous.

When Swerve looks at its specs, he almost feels sick. Maneuverability, mobility, everything is absolutely top-notch. But most importantly, speed.

The technology to accelerate Mechs to incredible speeds has been around for some time, but the average robot doesn't reach even half of the technically possible maximum. Because even the fastest machine can't outrun the human brain.

After a certain threshold, pilots are no longer capable of controlling their own Mech. Human reaction speed is simply not enough to maneuver without crashing into anything or losing their orientation in space. And. Well. Without losing consciousness.

This has led to Mech manufacturers sort of tacitly agreeing on a rough speed limit and tending to stick to it. Just to make the technology safer and more suitable for everyone.

Regardless. Everyone except Blurr apparently.

Because the numbers across from his Mech's speed specs are horrifying. Swerve looks at the blueprints and thinks it's either freaking awesome or absolute suicide. Maybe something in between. Can a human being have reflexes like that? What about this turning mechanism? The numbers tell him that these levels of g-force make a large percentage of pilots just pass out.

Is Blurr really going to pilot this death wagon??

To achieve that kind of speed and mobility, they'd have to cut off half the armor or make it very light. Which would almost be like inviting a dangerous injury.

But if the Mech is made primarily to flaunt rather than fight...well... it probably makes sense.

Swerve's inner fan is sliding down the wall.

Blurr is incredible. And what's even more incredible is that he's kind of sort of almost Swerve's coworker now.

It only takes him a couple days to realize.

Everyone loves Blurr.

But the one who loves Blurr the most is Blurr himself.

The rose-tinted glasses are breaking slowly but surely. On the first day, Sverve walks up on shaky legs to get introduced. He tells himself that this is definitely not an attempt to get an autograph. They're coworkers. He's just...uh...greeting a new employee.

Blurr looks slightly bored.

“You're from this department....uh.. What's its name, whatever.”

Swerve clutches his hands in front of him so he doesn't accidentally drop anything

“OH.Uh yeah. Swerve! Engineering Department. You were there on a tour the other day. I usually work in the assembly plant, making armor for Mechs, developing new alloys. But I design too! I, uh.

(Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. He'll think you're a crazy fan. Don't talk about Blurr.)

Blurr starts to get sidetracked by his phone.

Swerve swallows awkwardly.

“I'm uh. I'm a big fan of yours. Sir.”

(Good job...)

Blurr chuckles softly and offers out his hand

“Well, nice to meet you.”

Sverve's hand is shaking like crazy, he hopes he isn't squeezing too hard. Working in the assembly has made his hands rough. Blurr's narrow, soft palm is almost sinking in his grip.

“ 'Nice to meet you, yes. Nice to meet you sir! If you, ah, if you have any problems or questions or uh, well. You know, if you need help with your Mech or upgrades or or.”

Blurr chuckles.

“I'll be counting on you~”

Swerve feels like his soul is about to break away from his body.

The next, day when they cross paths in the hallway Blurr waves to him.

“Hey you. Whatever your name is. Can you tell me how to get to Block D?

Swerve stops awkwardly.

“Ah. Of course! I'm Swerve sir. Come, I'll show you.”

Blurr smiles a beautiful, ad-libbed smile and follows him in

“Thank you darling.”

From this point on, the entire program gradually learns a simple but unpleasant truth.

Blurr is an asshole.

And nobody likes him.

He always has everyone at his beck and call. You rarely get to see him on his own. There's always someone swirling around him with a guilty or annoyed face. A sort of serve-get-show-explain designated poor guy.

Swindle treats Blurr like a precious antique vase.

Blurr treats people like his servants.

The whole world is in love with the glittering cover, the image polished to a squeak. Until recently, Swerve was doing the same thing. Now it feels more like an embarrassing crush.

Blurr still doesn't remember his name. He actually remembers at most three to four people by name, and calls everyone else “hey you” or “ darling”. After Swerve reintroduced himself to him for the fourth time he just sort of...stopped trying.

On the field, Blurr is incredible. No one can deny that. The tremendous speed of his Mech leaves all the other pilots in the dust. Whoever said human reflexes weren't fast enough? HA. When Swerve sees his reports and results, he gets dizzy.

The combination of such incredible speeds and light armor means Blurr simply can't miss. If he hesitates, if he falters. If he gets confused. The whole metal thing will smash him to smithereens.

And yet Blurr comes back untouched time after time.

Swerve's no longer inclined to think it's just because of his mad skills. He knows that Swindle is paying Blurr a lot of money for his cooperation. No one would let Blurr fight on the front lines, no. It would be too dangerous. He has to do just enough so that Swindle can record a commercial and in it call Blurr a badass pilot without adding small print to that statement.

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

Blurr's job is to smile for the camera and take the applause of people who praise him for his bravery and sacrifice. Blurr's job is to sell his face, his voice and his skills to millions of viewers. He must impress investors, show off advanced technology and make a determined face saying that to save mankind he is ready for anything. And then get in a luxury car and drive off to some expensive place to burn a whole bunch of zeros out of his paycheck.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. But he is the first person every citizen would name if asked to say something about the Mech program. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

A month later, he still can't remember anyone's names and sometimes calls people by the colors of their clothes, laughing as if they should take it as a cute joke.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

That's okay.

It's not like fanboying over Blurr is Swerve's only passion.

He gets upset.

Then he gets mad and rips down all the posters.

Then he has no time to be angry because Swindle wants to launch Mechs into outer space and damn it, Jazz flies off the planet and doesn't fucking come back. The engineering department stays up nights trying to figure out where he's gone, but they can't.

Unlike Blurr, everybody loved Jazz.

Unlike Blurr, Jazz deserved every ounce of that love.

The ground beneath his feet is starting to shake.

At first, all that happens is panic. Everyone starts making a confused noise, someone assumes an earthquake.

A voice on the speakers says that everyone needs to evacuate immediately, but no one hears it because huge mechanical tentacles start coming through the windows and the whole building starts shaking, creaking and crumbling.

Sverve has seen the monsters humanity has to fight many times. But never this close. And their size leaves him absolutely terrified. These things are huge, they take up all visible space. And what's most damning is that they can break down the walls around Swerve like a fucking cookie.

He's gonna die. Oh god he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die here under this stupid rubble or get eaten or turned into one of the ugly bloody stains on the wall. His heart is doing a million beats a minute and his eyes are starting to sting. He tries to get to the emergency exit, but the door is blocked by one of the huge toothy creatures that is actively trying to get in.

Next to him, Swindle is shouting to someone on his comm, trying to sound louder than the rumble of the collapsing building and the hungry aliens.

The floor tilts at a very disturbing angle and Swerve grabs one of the interior doorways to stay in place. A second later, he reaches out and pulls Swindle, who has already slowly begun to slip toward the monster's huge hungry maw, to the same doorway.

Swindle grabs onto the frame of the door and Swerve at the same time. His glasses are cracked and his usually neat expensive coat is all dust and debris.

“It was a trap.”

Swerve can't hear a word over the grinding of breaking structures.

“What?”

Swindle almost slips and falls, but Swerve grabs him by the scruff of his coat and puts him back on his feet. Working in an assembly shop gives a man strong arms and right now he's very grateful for it.

Swindle makes a second, louder attempt

“It was a trap!!! All available pilots are now on the other side of the country! I've called for backup, but who knows how fast they'll get here.”

A smooth, silky voice comes from a walkie-talkie strapped to his coat.

“Ouch Swindle. So little faith in my professional skills?”

Swindle rounds his eyes

“Blurr??! Where are you!”

Blurr's voice sounds...not quite as it usually does. It's missing the habitual lazy note. The one that makes him sound like the whole world owes him money.

“Give me another minute and the answer will be 'here'.”

The building shakes again. Swindle swears so eloquently that Swerve can't help but admire it.

Swerve can't stand Blurr's smug face, but when he spots the first glimpse of blue metal in the window, joy floods his brain.

He usually associates Blurr with dumb nicknames, dismissive treatment, and commercials.

Now he watches the sleek, fast Mech lunge fearlessly at the monsters surrounding the building and thinks that. Fuck this. He's an asshole, but if he buys Swerve enough time to evacuate, he'll bring him a thank you card or something later. Though it's unlikely Blurr will care about that of course.

Swindle continues to shout instructions over the walkie-talkie. Swerve basically drags him outside by. He jumps up probably a full meter when very near him one of the monsters falls to the ground.

Blurr's Mech stands proudly on top of the fresh corpse and looks...actually really bad. Swerve knows that this particular robot was not built for rough, open confrontation. Its armor is too thin. Designed for speed and agility, not strength. He assembled it himself, after all.

Many of the plates are crumpled. Some are torn off. His legs are intact, but one of the joints sparks funny.

Blurr quickly looks around and Swerve unwittingly follows his example. The whole place is on fire. Office buildings are in ruins and a huge column of black smoke rises above the assembly plant.

Blurr's Mech drops to the ground and gets down on one knee. The plates on its chest are pulled aside and Blurr sticks his head out of the cockpit while simultaneously opening the visor on his helmet.

“Everyone okay?”

Swindle clutches the walkie-talkie

“The office areas are empty, but there still could be people left on the lower floors of the assembly plant. But we have no access there!”

Blurr drums his fingers quickly on the metal plate

“Fire?”

Swindle shrugs his dusty shoulders

“Something exploded at the bottom of the building. It's a real smelter down there.

Even if we send a Mech, it won't last more than a minute before it overheats. Or make the building collapse.”

Blurr's gaze becomes focused. Sharp. Swerve has seen that look many times on tough front line fighters like Jazz. On Blurr, never.

“'That's enough time for me.”

Swindle waves his hands

“Are you crazy?”

Blurr slaps his palm against the armor of his Mech

“This baby is light. Lighter than anything you've got! If anyone can do it without dropping the building, it's me. They make Mechs in the assembly hall, it's got high ceilings right?”

Swerve wants to snap. He wants to throw his hands up angrily and yell something along the lines of “you were literally there!”

Who else is down there on those lower floors??? Tailgate? Maybe Wheeljack? If something exploded, Wheeljack was definitely there. And probably closest to the explosion.

Swindle curses furiously, but retreats and runs off to give orders to someone else.

“”Be a hero if you want, but I'm not going in there. For all I know there could be melting metal in there instead of a floor! It's just not reasonable.”

Swerve's brain stumbles over that statement. Why...Swindle is acting like he's being forced to climb into that building too...?

Blurr looks nervous.

“You know what. Fine. I got it. Hey, you--”

And there it is. The good old namelesness.

Blurr pays no attention to Swerve's frowning face, nor his hands shaking with fear

“ You're familiar with those buildings. You know who was there and where to find them right? I need you to walk me through.”

Swerve feels the urge to snap again and this time doesn't hold it back

“If you cared about something other than yourself, you'd know this damn building and the people who work in it too and !”

“I don't fucking remember!” Blurr interrupts him.

Swerve doesn't have time to put anything in after that. Though a sarcastic comment is begging to be made.

Blurr quickly takes off his helmet and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

“I don't remember okay! This isn't a fad or posing or whatever else you think of me. This is what an accident can do to you if you miss a turn! I can't remember shit, okay?! Do you need a medical report?!”

Swerve just...stands there with his mouth open and probably looks like an idiot.

Blurr nervously tucks back his disheveled hair. The longer he talks, the faster he does it.

“Now. I know you don't want to die in a pit of fire. But I need your help to save them. Don't do anything, just take the map. I promise I won't let you die.”

He sounds determined. And holds out his hand to Swerve, silently inviting him to climb up onto the Mech.

His face is stained in sticky dust, his hair is an absolute mess, and his narrow palm is covered in streaks of soot. It's as if he's been dragged face down a muddy road.

He's. Very Handsome, Swerve thinks.

He takes his hand.

Blurr helps him up, pushes him into the space next to the pilot's seat, and closes the cockpit.

“Been inside a working Mech ever?”

Swerve clenches his hands nervously on the back of the seat

“No.”

The lights of the consoles around him come to life as Blurr puts on his helmet. The space around him hums. It's a strange noise. At once unsettling and calm.

Mech feels alive, he thinks. Then corrects himself. Blurr is mind-linked to this Mech. This Mech can technically be considered alive in a sense.

Blurr moves one of the monitors toward him and opens the map.

“Just mark the path here. Don't touch anything else. And hold on tight. I won't be going too fast anyway, but it'll be shaky.”

Swerve swallows nervously.

“Understood.”

After that, everything turns into motion. Watching the Mech work while being inside is mesmerizing.

Blurr doesn't say much, concentrating on the controls. His hands aren't shaking anymore, Swerve notices. Not even a little.

He steers the machine forward confidently and smoothly, dodging falling debris and avoiding the biggest pockets of fire without panic or hesitation.

He's also strictly following the path Swerve is laying out for him.

The air filtration system is doing well so far. Swerve can feel the smell of burning and the heat slowly creeping up, but it's bearable for now. For now.

They find a man on the nearside of the emergency exit.

Two more people a floor below. A small group stuck in the elevator.

Wheeljack's on the doorstep of his lab.

Blurr pulls them all out. Picks up the first group of people and carries them outside, goes back into the fiery furnace, finds more survivors, pulls them out, goes back, searches, rescues, goes back, searches, rescues.

The heat is coming up. Swerve can feel it. The plates around him are getting hot. The air smells like burnt wires.

Blurr’s Mech wasn't designed for this kind of thing.

His Mech was made to flash for the camera and accelerate to impossible speeds. To deceive and confuse the enemy. Its armor is thin and cools easily in the air, which usually helps it avoid overheating.

This also means that this Mech heats up very quickly as well.

Now, with the air around him feeling like a red-hot frying pan, Swerve regrets not saying anything back then. He regrets that he didn't make any changes to the blueprint.

More and more warnings pop up on the screens. The map stopped working correctly some time ago and Swerve is forced to give directions verbally.

He nervously grips the back of the pilot seat with one hand and, without noticing, Blurr's shoulder with the other.

Blurr carries two more people outside and hands them to the rescuers. Then turns back to the building again and. OH FUCK. Right in front of him, a huge crack begins to creep along the structure. This thing is on the verge of collapse. The roof is already starting to fold down in a very bad way.

Swerve clenches his grip fearfully and hears Blurr hiss through his teeth.

Suddenly, the cockpit opens. The fresh air of the street feels like a cold sledgehammer blow after the heat and stuffiness of the lower levels.

Swerve is about to ask something, but doesn't have time because Blurr uses Mech's hand to gently but quickly pull him outside and set him on the ground.

“You were going to mark another spot.”

Swerve nods hurriedly.

“Tailgate is still there.”

Blurr wrinkles his face.

Swerve corrects himself and clarifies

“Bright blue uniform. Short. Considering all the places we've been, I think he's in the staff quarters. It's...”

He chews his fingers, trying to remember numbers and directions without a map

“...two floors down, left, another floor down and straight ahead.”

As he speaks Blurr bends over the side of the open cockpit and spits...blood on the ground. His nose is bleeding, Swerve realizes. That's not good. It's a clear sign of a malfunctioning neural connection. Or damage to his respiratory system? Possibly both.

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his worried look

“Two down, left down then. Shit. Wait. Two down, left then down, straight ahead yeah?”

Swerve nods.

Blurr keeps repeating these directions like a mantra. A very fast and creepy mantra.

His gaze roams strangely and his breaths sound hoarse. His teeth and chin are covered in blood and his face is streaked with soot.

Swerve understands. He's about to do another go.

Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight.

Alone. He's going, and he's going to fry himself alive in there for a stranger he doesn't even remember.

Swerve doesn't have time to say anything. What's he gonna say? Stop? But he wants to save Tailgate? Go on, I believe in you? But it's certain death.

Swerve rarely has nothing to say, but this time he can't find the right words.

Blurr wipes the blood with his sleeve, wrinkles his nose, and storms off, heading back into the flaming mess the plant has become.

Not twenty seconds later, the roof collapses, spewing a huge cloud of smoke, ash, and fire into the sky.

Swerve wrinkles his shirt nervously in his hands.

The walls are still in place, right? If the roof is gone but the walls are still standing it's... it's. It's.

Damn it. He's trying to remember the blueprints. It means the ejector will work. It means Blurr can still get out through the top. That--

Blurr's not getting out. As the small, bright blue escape pod appears above the falling walls of the building, Swerve feels his brain stop. Remember the blueprints, remember the damn blueprints. The Mech is light, the design is compact, the space in the pod is for only one person.

In the capsule lies an unconscious Tailgate.

Swindle grasps the radio

“Blurr? BLURR!”

Swerve looks at the smoke and ash and feels numb. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He has to know. He doesn't...

He feels weird. The same kind of weird as when objects fly seemingly through him. Everything just stops being real.

The thought comes out of nowhere. You don't have to obey the rules. You can see more. Just look.

He's not sure how or why he's doing it.

No one around him is paying much attention to him. Everyone's busy with survivors and damage assessment or just stunned by the chaos.

And him? He disappears.

And then he appears at the bottom. Under the rubble.

All around him is ugly, molten and red-hot chaos, but he doesn't care anymore. He feels like whatever is happening is about to end and he just has to be in time. Time for him to find out.

Blurr's Mech lies crushed by the fallen roof. Its cockpit is open. A gaping hole where his chest was, the place where the escape pod had undocked.

Wall debris has pinned him in a crooked, grotesque pose.

Blurr is here. His legs are wedged between crumpled metal plates inside the cockpit, leaving him hanging upside down. His suit is charred. Half of his face is destroyed. It looks like a horrible bloody and burned mess. It's ugly and gruesome.

Blurr opens his only working eye and gives Swerve a cloudy look.

“I must be seeing things...”

Swerve shrugs in daze. He knows he shouldn't be here.

Blurr spits up a mouthful of blood

“I'm sorry I hurt you uh...”

“Swerve.”

“Yes. Swerve. It's hard for me to remember things unless they're...akgh...hell... not in my face all the time.”

Swerve moves closer and frowns

“You know, that explains but doesn't excuse you.”

Blurr closes his eye and coughs. That sounds really bad.

“No...I guess not.”

He huffs off the blood again. The burned half of his face is oozing with it. The blood runs down his forehead, collecting in a small puddle on the floor.

“It was better than letting everyone know what's wrong with me. I can't even begin to think about the amount of messes I'd be dragged into.”

Swerve notes that the fire seems to be getting closer.

This whole bit of dialog is so unnatural. Who even talks about that kind of stuff before they die. On the other hand. Well. Character development?

“So you think it's better to have everyone assume you're a jerk than that you got your head screwed on?”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“ You're a very specific kind of ghost.”

Swerve shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away

“I needed to know. Before you die.”

“That's ...akghhh...ha....it's good to know. Can you tell me something Swerve? As..agh...

As a last wish?”

Swerve shrugs again. He stares at the dripping blood. At the ugly, bubbling burns. At the burst vessels in his eye and the paths of blood from his bleeding nose. He looks at the broken and scorched and dying bloody mess.

He looks at Blurr.

And he thinks, until today, he didn't really love Blurr. Not with the posters and figurines. Not with the disdain and dislike.

He loved an image. And hated an image.

He reaches out and tries to touch Blurr's hand, but goes through it.

“I'm sorry. But we're both not really here. And I have to go.”

He can feel the cold metal around him, which is strange because he's standing in the middle of smoking and burning ruins

“But if it makes you happy, I guess you're my favorite character after all.”

Blurr doesn't answer. Swerve isn't sure he even heard him.

The feeling of metal around him grows sharper.

Someone shines a flashlight in his face.

Swerve blinks stupidly and tries to move away.

The unknown Autobot medic standing over him smiles happily and puts the flashlight away

“Welcome back. You've been in a coma Primus knows how long.”

The other medic to the side frowns

“You have zero tact.”

Swerve blinks his optics puzzled, raises his servo and for a while just stares at it like some movie character. All around him is an Autobot medbay. Metal walls. Metal instruments. And him. Metal.

Yes. Seems so. That's the way he's always been. That's right.

“Doc, you won't believe what kind of weird dream I had.”

___________

Swerve feels like he's going crazy.

He's standing in the middle of a hallway on one of the Autobot ships, and he's staring. shamelessly.

There's Prowl standing at the end of the hallway. And on his shoulder is...

“ JAZZ????”

Both bot and human turn around abruptly at his scream. And both look equally puzzled.

Jazz waves his hand

“Do I know you?”

Swerve is definitely going crazy. It's Jazz. The same one. From his...dream??? But he's real and tangible??? Sitting on Prowl's shoulder, talking and breathing and being seen by everyone not only Swerve????

“You're...real...?”

Jazz raises his eyebrows

“I am. Yes. Really Mech, you sound very familiar.

But I can tell you for a fact that I have not been friends with any Cybertronians before...”

This can't be, this can't be, this isn't....

It was a dream. The spawn of his TV series-addled mind. A hallucination. It wasn't real. It wasn't, was it?

But Jazz is here. And he disappeared from Earth. And now he's here.

And.

What the..

Swerve blurts out something like “sorry-sorry-see-you-later-now-I've got to go” and runs off.

“HEY DOC????”

The autobot, already familiar to him, flinches

“Primus...Swerve? Is something wrong?”

Swerve realizes that everything is about to either make sense or lose it completely.

“Tell me...is it possible to project a holoform...like...very far away?”

The Doctor tilts his head.

“Depends on power consumption. If you channel all the energy available in a frame, you can go very far. But that would send you into a...coma...if you...tried...Swerve, is there anything you'd like to tell me?”

“Doc do you know where Earth is?”

“Wha...no?”

Swerve chuckles nervously and bites his knuckles.

“I don't either. But I think I've been there...”

[skzdust]

Rock Will Never Die

Pure smut. MINORS DNI.

This took me almost three weeks. The season's greetings has been eating me alive. So. Omegaverse rock band ateez. 6.7k words of it, which is by far my longest smut. Please enjoy <3

Big thanks to @kpop---scenarios, who helped me decide which members were alphas/betas/omegas, and for generally helping on this one!!! I appreciate you sm!!

Summary: Y/n, manager of rock band Ateez, is out of heat suppressants after a show. Luckily, all 8 members of her band are there to help.

Pairing: Ateez x reader

Includes: omegaverse, LOTSSSSS of smut, porn without plot, omega reader, spitroasting, double penetration, knotting, unprotected sex (you did not come here for sex ed but please be safe irl!!!)

Word count: 6.7k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

You bit your lip as you pawed through your bag, looking for your suppressants. You could taste blood before you found the little orange bottle. You pushed down on it, opening the lid, and—

Empty. Not a single pill left. 

“Fuck.” You whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

You turned around. Mingi was standing there, freshly showered in grey sweatpants and a blue T-shirt, a concerned look on his face. 

He looked so fucking good, you restrained yourself from jumping at him then and there. You could feel yourself getting more and more desperate, and you swallowed.

“You smell really anxious.” Hongjoong looked over from where he was relaxing in an armchair, still in his stage makeup and outfit. His striped knit hat was askew on his head. 

“I— well—” You stammered. “I’m— God, this is embarrassing.”

“What?” Mingi raised his eyebrows. “It can’t be that bad.”

You gave a small, involuntary whimper. “I’m out of heat suppressants… and there’s one coming on.”

“Well, shit.” Mingi said softly. “That’s not great.”

“And it’s not like you can really stop it once it starts.” Hongjoong said. 

“Exactly.”

“Hey, calm down.” Mingi’s voice was soothing. “We’ll find a solution for this.”

“What?” You whined. “I don’t have an alpha, and we’re in a hotel, and I don’t have any of my—” You swallowed. “Er, stuff. What’s the solution?”

Mingi and Hongjoong looked at each other for a long moment. “I mean… we could help you.”

You’d been the manager of Ateez for about a year now. They’d always been incredibly talented, but they’d needed someone with your managerial and business sense to catapult them into the stardom they now enjoyed. 

And as their manager, to make sure they maintained that stardom, you had to keep close with them. Ride on the tour bus with them, stay in the same hotel rooms, go to all the same bars and after parties. 

(Okay, so maybe you had some personal motives to that, too. Maybe the members of Ateez were the eight hottest men you’d ever seen. Maybe you fantasized about the aspects of them you saw both on and off stage. Maybe you thought about them when you were at home on your heat days, fucking yourself with a toy.)

But you’d never thought you’d be alone in a hotel room with two of the group’s four alphas with no heat suppressants. 

Especially not with them offering to help you.

They must’ve noticed your hesitation, because Hongjoong smiled softly. “If you don’t want us to, we don’t have to.”

“No! No, help— help— please help me.” You stammered, then more quietly added, “I need you.” 

“Shit.” Mingi said. “You’re all desperate.”

“I’m going into heat.” You huffed. “Of course I’m desperate.”

“No, I know. It’s just hot. You want a knot?”

His teasing sent a wave of arousal through you. “Stop it.”

“I don’t think so.” He smirked. “I like watching you squirm, y/n.”

You could feel slick leaking out of your hole, and you bit your lip.

“Enough, Min.” Hongjoong stood up. “I’m the captain, I’m going first.”

“Aw, but I don’t want to wait.” Mingi pouted. 

“Contact the others while I fuck her, then you guys can watch while you all wait your turn.”

You gave a long moan from where you were still crouched beside your bag. Hongjoong looked at you. “Slut. You like the idea of all of us fucking you, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. Hongjoong had never talked to you like this before, always sweet and gentlemanly as could be.

“When you text Woo, tell him he owes me.” Hongjoong said to Mingi, but he kept his eyes on you. “She seems to like being degraded, so I won that bet. Get on the bed for me, pretty.”

“Bet?” You obeyed, getting onto the bed.

“Me and Woo have had some money on your kinks.” He said, as if this were a perfectly normal thing to do.

Mingi snickered. “Pervert.”

You were, inexplicably, into this, and Hongjoong could tell it made you hornier. He laughed. “You smell even sweeter. You like that? Me and Wooyoung talking about how we’d like to fuck you?”

“Mhm.” You whined. “Can— um, can…” You trailed off, realizing how desperate your request sounded. 

“Use your words.” Hongjoong climbed onto the bed, over you, trapping you beneath him. “What is it?”

“Can you fuck me at the same time?” You whispered. 

Hongjoong grinned, turning over his shoulder. “Mingi, you can tell Woo there’s a consolation prize for losing.”

You whined as he looked back at you. “Please, Joong. Alpha. Need you.”

He slid his hand into your hair and pulled you into a searing kiss. “Need you too, pretty. Take all those clothes off, you’re not gonna need them.”

You hurried to obey him, getting your shirt and skirt off as fast as you could. 

“Look at your body.” He murmured, his eyes raking over you. “Absolutely beautiful.”

You blushed, more slick leaking out of you. “Please, Hongjoong.”

“Ah-ah.” He raised his eyebrows. “You call me alpha, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” You whispered. “Please, alpha.”

He smirked. “How can I resist when you ask so nicely?”

You whimpered as his hand came down to rub at your pussy. His touch felt so good, and all you wanted was to whine and rut into his hand, but you restrained yourself.

“So well-behaved.” He remarked, pulling his hand back and rubbing his fingers together, watching your slick drip down his hand. “I just know you’re gonna feel so good around me.” With that, he pushed three fingers inside you, and you moaned. 

“Fuck, Hong—alpha.” You breathed. “Feels so good, alpha. I… I want your cock, though.”

“Greedy little thing.” He laughed softly. “You’re gonna fucking get it, aren’t you? So be patient.”

You bit your lip again as he began rubbing his thumb around your clit. “Does that feel good, pretty? Is that what you need?”

You swallowed. It was a trick question, and you weren’t going to answer it.

“Answer me.” He added a fourth finger. 

“Ah! Yes, it’s good, but I need more, please, Joong—alpha!” 

He sighed. “Can’t even remember what to call me. I guess I just gotta fuck that disobedience out of you, don’t I?”

“Yes.” You squeaked. “Yes, you do.”

Hongjoong pulled down his pants, freeing his hard cock. Your mouth began to water at the sight. He threw them across the room. “Mingi, when are the others coming?” You’d forgotten he was even there.

“Soon, I think.” 

You looked over Hongjoong’s shoulder to see Mingi watching you, his phone in his hand, practically drooling. 

“Good.” Hongjoong said. “I want to make good on Woo’s consolation prize.”

Fuck. He’d been serious? You couldn’t wait for Wooyoung to arrive. 

Hongjoong pushed his cock through your folds, coating it in slick. “So messy, pretty.”

You just watched him, breathing hard. 

He lined himself up with your entrance. You could just feel him starting to press himself in when there was the loud sound of a door opening. You, Hongjoong, and Mingi all turned around to look at it. 

San and Seonghwa walked in, both dressed in dark t-shirts and sweatpants. San’s eyebrows were raised as he took in the sight. “Oh, look at that, Hongjoong’s about to fuck y/n. What did you say, Mingi? She’s in heat?”

You could hear the smirk in Mingi’s voice. “Yeah, she’s definitely in heat.”

You didn’t even realize you’d started breathing so hard until Seonghwa walked over to you and put a hand over your mouth. “There. You can start, Joongie.”

“Don’t need your permission.” Hongjoong sounded a bit irked, but grinned at Seonghwa as he slid inside you. You moaned long and loud into Seonghwa’s hand. You felt so full… but it still wasn’t enough.

“Fuck me.” You asked, and it came out muffled, but Hongjoong could definitely tell what you meant because he laughed meanly.

“Is there something you want, pretty? Use your words, I can’t hear you.”

“Fuck me, alpha, please.” You tried again, and you could hear Seonghwa’s snicker. 

Hongjoong looked up at Seonghwa, pursing his lips. Seonghwa leaned down and gave him a long kiss. You were a little surprised. You didn’t know they did that. 

Hongjoong looked at you after a moment. “I guess I can start fucking her now.”

“You should.” Seonghwa took his hand away from your mouth. “She was about to bite my finger or something. She’s so fucking horny.”

You wanted to snap out that you were in heat, of course you were fucking horny, but you held back. You wanted to submit, to be a good girl (to be their good girl) more.

“Fuck.” San said from where he sat on the end of the bed. “Damn, she’s so wet, I call next.”

“I was here first.” Mingi said indignantly.

Hongjoong abruptly pulled his hips back before snapping them back into you. You gave a long moan. This was what you needed, someone to fuck you long and deep and hard, into the mattress, someone to fuck a litter into you, someone to knot you and breed you and—

San cut into your thoughts. “No, I said it first. You and I both know the second someone starts to dominate you you’re gonna want to be a good boy, so shut up before I have to punish you.”

San’s voice was smug, or you thought so, most of the thoughts had left your head as Hongjoong had started to fuck you in earnest. His cock was so big, and so good, and filled you up just right. You couldn’t fucking wait for him to knot you. 

Mingi and San went suspiciously quiet. Honestly, though, you didn’t even care who won the argument, who got your body next, so long as they kept going the way Hongjoong was going. 

The door clicked open again, and you whined as Hongjoong stopped. “Alpha, can you please— why’d you stop?”

“Wooyoung.” Seonghwa’s voice was practically a purr. 

You shivered. Wooyoung. 

“Hey, Woo, get over here.”

Wooyoung was in a black satin robe, a sash tied around his waist. His hair was wet, like he’d just gotten out of the shower. He smiled as he saw you. “Oh, God, you’re so gorgeous like this.”

“Right?” Hongjoong thrust inside again. “She feels so fucking tight. Want her mouth?”

Your eyes widened as Wooyoung smiled. “D’you want me, baby?”

“Yes.” 

Hongjoong pulled out for a brief moment to readjust, and you whined at the sudden emptiness. 

“Shh, pretty, it’s gonna be okay, you’ll be so full soon.” He murmured to you, helping you move so your head dangled over the side of the bed. You looked up to see Wooyoung untying his robe, revealing absolutely nothing underneath. He left it on, untied, as he gently pulled you close to him.

You were practically salivating at this point. His cock looked so good. He was gonna fill your mouth up, and Hongjoong—

Before you could finish your thought, Hongjoong pushed back inside you. You moaned, and Wooyoung took the opportunity to slide into your mouth. “So good for me.” He murmured, holding onto your hair. 

It felt so good, being full from both ends. “Fuck me.” You moaned, although it came out muffled and distorted around Wooyoung’s cock. “Fuck me, alpha.”

Hongjoong grunted and began to do as you’d asked, aligning his thrusts with Wooyoung’s so you were pushed back and forth between them. 

Through your cock-drunk haze you could hear Mingi whining. Your eyes darted over to him as best you could, only to see San pulling his cock out and slapping Mingi across the face with it before grabbing onto his hair. “Open up, slut.”

Mingi obeyed, his tongue lolling out. San groaned as he started to fuck Mingi’s face. Even just from glimpses you could see San’s cock was huge, much bigger than most betas. It was bigger than some alphas you’d seen, even.

You couldn’t wait for it to fuck you.

Hongjoong noticed. “Like watching Sannie fuck Mingi’s face, pretty?”

You moaned in the affirmative, spit leaking out around Wooyoung’s cock.

“Fuck, so messy.” Wooyoung sighed. “Such a good girl.”

That sent another shiver through you, and you looked up at him through your lashes. He sighed again. “Fuck, keep looking at me like that and I just won’t stop.”

You didn’t want him to stop. You looked at him for another moment before looking back over to San and Mingi, who were still… busy. 

Hongjoong and Wooyoung kept going as you watched them. San slapped Mingi, and as you watched his hands drifted down to his lap. San slapped him again. “No, bad boy. You don’t touch that alpha cock. That’s my job.”

“Fuck, San, tell him.” Wooyoung’s fingers tightened in your hair. “Make him be a good boy.”

Wooyoung’s commentary on San and Mingi’s oral was only making you wetter. It was really fucking hot to watch him make Mingi submit, and to see how whiny and teary Mingi got when he was being fucked, even in his mouth. You wondered what he’d look like with a cock at both ends. Like you.

Wooyoung and Hongjoong kept going, kept using you. Your body jerked between the two of them. You were mostly along for the ride. You could feel the slick between your legs as Hongjoong kept fucking into your pussy, and Wooyoung’s hands in your hair turned almost gentle, combing through it as he continued with your mouth. 

It was a nice contrast, Hongjoong rutting into you like a feral animal while Wooyoung stroked your hair and shallowly fucked your mouth. You closed your eyes. 

You opened them a second later as a loud whimper filled the room. You looked over to see Seonghwa yanking Mingi’s hair back, pulling him off San’s cock. “Sannie doesn’t get to cum yet, he’s not wasting it on you.”

Before you could see what they did next, Wooyoung’s hands suddenly fisted in your hair, pulling you down onto his cock. “Fuck, y/n, I’m gonna cum.” He held you in place, his hips moving madly. He was in your throat at this point, and fuck it felt so good to be so full at both ends, to be used so thoroughly by your band members. 

Wooyoung came, and you tried your best to be a good girl, to take it all, to let him use you, but you coughed as he pulled back.

“Good slut.” He whispered, leaning down to peck your forehead. 

You looked up at him with glazed eyes. “Good for you?”

“So good for me.” He smiled. 

You turned over your shoulder. “Please, need a knot.”

“A knot?” Hongjoong’s smirk was evident even in his somewhat breathless voice. “You want a knot, why not beg alpha for it?”

“Please!” You cried out, uncaring if you woke up the whole hotel. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need it so bad.” 

Hongjoong laughed, but it was more of a loud exhale with the effort of his thrusts. “I’ll give you a knot.”

He pushed into you, and you could feel something stretching you wide. 

Hongjoong’s knot. 

He came, deep inside you, his knot inflating. Wooyoung pressed a hand to your stomach, grinning at the way you felt full. “You really bred her, huh, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong reached around to hug you. “C’mon, pretty, relax with me.”

You hummed, pliant, laying down with Hongjoong as he curled up on the bed. Wooyoung joined you, pulling a blanket over your connected forms and cuddling into your other side.

“Thanks Woo, thanks, Joong.” You whispered. 

“No need to thank us.” Wooyoung kissed your neck, long and leisurely. “Always glad to fuck our favorite girl’s mouth. Whenever you want it.”

Hongjoong moved his leg, readjusting. You held back a moan at the slight motion of his cock inside you. “Yeah, we really should be thanking you, for letting us help you through your heat.”

“It’s not over yet.” You mumbled. “I’ve got a knot in me now, but as soon as it goes down… my heats tend to last some time.”

“Well, luckily for you, there are eight of us.” Hongjoong smiled.

The bed dipped as someone else got on. Wooyoung groaned in protest. “Hwa, let us have our moment.”

Seonghwa laughed softly. “I just wanted to join, not trying to ruin any moments.” 

You absently started to stroke Wooyoung’s hair with one hand while you reached out for Seonghwa with the other. 

Seonghwa smiled, leaning down to kiss you. “So beautiful, but you’re a needy thing, aren’t you?”

Out of the band’s members, you loved all of them in their own ways, but Seonghwa had always held a special allure. He was incredibly talented. The man played guitar and did vocals, none of the other members filled multiple roles like that. And he was sex on legs when he was onstage, singing duets with frontman San like they were in love. It drove the fangirls insane. 

And you, but that wasn’t something you’d wanted to admit until now. 

“Needy.” You nodded in agreement.

  Seonghwa gave you another, longer kiss. This one was sweet, but it had an undercurrent of seduction that yanked you in and kept you there. He was trying to turn you on again, and though Hongjoong’s knot was still locked inside you, it would not be a difficult task.

“Hwa… Joong’s still inside me.” You whined. 

Seonghwa bit your earlobe, making you twitch and gasp and arch your back. Hongjoong’s dick twitched inside you at that, and he groaned. 

“Well, as soon as he’s done, it’s my turn, isn’t it?”

The words sent shivers through you. “I thought San and Mingi were arguing about that.”

“They’re still… busy.” 

You looked over Seonghwa’s shoulder to see San sitting in the armchair Hongjoong had been in earlier, scrolling on his phone. His legs were spread, and Mingi knelt between them. “Don’t drool on my pants.” San said, his voice bored, but you could see the little smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Fuck.” You whispered. “That’s hot.”

“Mingi and San like to be rough.” Seonghwa smiled. “It’s quite fun to watch. You’ll have to join us more often.”

Hongjoong let out a strangled moan as you clenched down on him. You had no idea what they were, you had no idea what you were with them. You did know, however, that you loved them, and they loved you. And now everyone was fucking, you guessed? But whatever. It seemed to work.

And it seemed you’d fit in with them quite well.

 But you didn’t dwell on that too long, because when Seonghwa kissed you again, another wave of slick rushed out of you.

“Hongjoong.” You whimpered. “I need— I need—”

“I know.” Hongjoong kissed your neck. Wooyoung joined in, too, licking up the other side. “It’ll go down in just a second, and then Seonghwa can take his turn.” 

The phrasing, his turn, turned you on so much. Seonghwa, just like the others, got to use your body. They all would. 

You couldn’t help yourself, you rocked your body back onto Hongjoong’s cock. He hissed in overstimulation. You tried to be kind, to think of him, but your body just wanted to be fucked, more and more and more. You just held yourself back. 

They kept kissing you for a few more minutes, your body burning, until Hongjoong’s knot started to go down. You whined as he pulled out, suddenly empty. “Seonghwa…”

“I know, baby.” He got his pants off, and you almost started drooling at the sight of his long cock.

Seonghwa slid inside you, and you sighed at the sensation. “Fuck...”

Hongjoong and Wooyoung went off to shower, kissing you one more time before they left. Seonghwa set a languid pace, rolling his hips deep inside you. You were both panting after a few minutes, and you threw your head back. “Need it harder, alpha.”

Seonghwa laughed softly. “Alpha? I’m a beta, baby, but I’m happy to fuck you harder.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Sorry, Hwa, I didn’t mean to…”

Seonghwa stopped for a moment to kiss your head. “Nothing to apologize for. If anything, it’s kind of a compliment. But I know you need a knot right now.”

You swallowed, nodding.

Seonghwa thrust into you a few more times before turning over his shoulder with a sly smile. “Mingi, get your submissive ass over here.”

Mingi pulled off of San’s cock, his eyes heavily lidded, spit dripping down his chin. He looked obscene, fucked-out without even having been fucked. 

“You heard him.” San patted his cheek just softly enough to be a pat and not a slap. “Get over there.”

“Mhm.” Mingi climbed onto the bed, sitting in front of Seonghwa. 

He smiled. “Such a good boy… why doesn’t our good fuckpet satisfy y/n? Give her the knot she needs.” His voice was patronizing, condescending, but based on the significant bulge in Mingi’s pants, he was getting off on it. 

Mingi nodded. “Wanna be a good boy for you, sir. Wanna make y/n feel good.”

A shiver ran through you. 

“Why don’t you take off your clothes, then, and lay down on your back.” Seonghwa raised his eyebrows. “That’s not a suggestion, Mingi.”

Mingi squeaked, moving faster than you’d ever seen him move to get his pants and shirt off. He propped himself up on the pillows, looking at Seonghwa with wide eyes. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his cock, standing hard and full.

Seonghwa smiled and scratched his head. Mingi leaned into his hand. “Good boy. Y/n, why don’t you come ride him for me?”

You inhaled sharply and pulled away from Seonghwa’s cock, instead positioning yourself over Mingi’s and grabbing onto his shoulder. He looked at you with the most pathetic, desperate expression you’d ever seen. “Please, y/n.”

You sank onto his cock, moaning as every inch of it filled you up. He whimpered as you seated yourself fully on him, staying still for a moment to adjust to his size. 

“Go on, baby. Use him.” Seonghwa encouraged, voice smooth as satin.

You took a breath and began to bounce on Mingi’s cock, moaning as he hit that spot inside you with every motion. Like the rest of him, his cock was big, and you were euphoric as you felt it deep inside you.

Seonghwa tilted your head towards him. You didn’t stop fucking yourself on Mingi, but you looked at him.

“Aw.” He simpered. “So sweet. The subs are playing nice. You wanna kiss me, baby?”

You nodded enthusiastically, desperately. “Yes, Seonghwa.”

“Sir.” He reminded you.

“Yes, sir.” You rushed to correct yourself. 

“Good.” He murmured, leaning in. He gave you a long kiss that might’ve been sweet if he hadn’t started biting your bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth.

Mingi’s whines were a sweet soundtrack to Seonghwa’s kisses. He sounded so desperate and submissive, a far cry from the Mingi you knew onstage or even off. 

“Can Mingi fuck me now?” You whined against Seonghwa’s mouth. “I’m tired.”

“Of course, baby.” Seonghwa helped position the two of you so Mingi could start fucking into you. He rubbed Mingi’s back for a moment before suddenly scratching down his spine. Mingi moaned, arching his back and pushing his cock deep into you.

“Good boy.” Seonghwa whispered. “Y/n wants you to fuck her, so make sure you do a good job.”

Mingi began rutting into you with the same fervor that Hongjoong had, only with a lot more whimpering and big puppy eyes. “Am I doing good for you, sir?”

Seonghwa grabbed Mingi’s hair and forced him to look at you. “Ask her if you’re doing good.” He looked at you. “Baby, be honest.”

“Am— am I doing good?” Mingi’s voice was small.

“So full.” You said, your voice breathy. “So good, Mingi, Seonghwa… Mingi,  don’t stop.”

Seonghwa laughed meanly. “For someone with such a nice cock, it’s kind of funny how little Mingi uses it.”  He yanked his head back. “He loves being stuffed full so much. So I’m sure this is a nice change of pace for him.”

Mingi looked at him. “She’s so tight… I’m gonna… sir, I can’t last much longer.”

“Knot her. Give her what she wants.” Seonghwa leaned down to speak into your ear. “He’s gonna breed you so full, isn’t he?”

Mingi pushed into you one last time before his knot expanded and you were locked together. You could feel him start to cum inside you, and you whined, shaking as your own orgasm overtook you.

When you came back into reality, Mingi was collapsed by your side, breathing hard. Seonghwa was furiously working his hand on his cock, and you watched, transfixed. 

“Good boy, Mingi.” He breathed. “Good girl, y/n. You both did so good for me.”

You made a pleased noise, and that seemed to send him over the edge. He spilled onto his fist, his hips jerking up into it.

“’M sorry I wanted a knot.” You muttered, feeling bad Seonghwa didn’t get to finish inside you.

“Don’t apologize, baby.” Seonghwa said, looking around for a towel. “You have no idea how much I like watching.”

Your face got hot at the words. “Oh… well… that’s good.”

He finally found one, wiping off his hands. Mingi wrapped his arms around you as Seonghwa laid down on your other side. You were sandwiched in a giant Minhwa hug, and it was heavenly. 

You didn’t quite fall asleep, but you were definitely drifting off cuddling with them. Having a knot inside you and two of your eight favorite people in the world with you made you feel happy and safe.

You heard the door open, but you didn’t care enough to look and see who it was, at least not until someone came over to you, and you heard two people messily kissing.

You opened your half-asleep eyes to see Mingi and Yunho making out, almost directly over your face. It was quite a sight to wake up to, and you moaned almost without realizing it. 

They broke apart, both smiling down at you. 

“Hi, sunshine.” Yunho leaned down to peck your forehead, and Mingi adjusted, moving his cock inside you. You whined at that, oversensitive but your body still craving more. 

They ignored you, kissing each other again. You could feel Mingi’s knot starting to go down, and you pushed yourself back onto him, chasing the fullness. It was too late, though, he was pulling out, whispering an apology to you. “Sorry, Yunho’s gonna go next, though, okay?”

Your body was so hot, the ache between your legs so strong that you just looked at Mingi with big eyes. “Is he gonna fuck me?”

Yunho laughed. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just make you lay there and stay still. Hold me deep inside you.”

You take a deep breath, trying to keep it together, but Yunho continues.

“You just wanna get fucked so bad, isn’t that right, you want me to breed you and make it feel so good… maybe I’ll just make you take me the way I want it, hm?”

You knew Yunho was an alpha. But he’d always been sweet and kind to you. He’d never teased you like this.

His large hands moved over your form, caressing you, your tits, your waist, your ass, rubbing your pussy. You stretched out, opening yourself up to all of him. 

He laughed and unzipped his pants, revealing his cock straining against his boxers. You whimpered just looking at the bulge. 

“Stop teasing, Yunho.” Seonghwa’s voice was playful. “Don’t you see how much she needs it?”

You gave Seonghwa a grateful look before turning your attention back to Yunho. “Please, Yunho.”

“I love your begging.” He smiled, but there was no kindness in it. It was toothy, almost predatory. He completely took his pants off and positioned himself over you like he was about to fuck you. His boxers were still on, and the cotton rubbed against your clit as he rubbed against you. You whined weakly, feeling almost dizzy with the need to be full.

“What did I say, Yunho.” Seonghwa’s voice was firmer now. “She’s in heat. Be nice.”

Yunho sighed, and before you knew what he was doing, you were flipped on your stomach, your knees propped up under you and your face pressed into the pillows. 

“You wanna get fucked?” Yunho’s voice was almost a growl. Clearly he was not happy at Seonghwa’s interference. “I’ll fuck you, sunshine.”

A thrill went through your body at his roughness. You could feel his tip at your entrance, and you took a deep breath. 

Yunho pushed inside in one swift motion, and the breath you’d just taken whooshed out of your lungs. He was so deep inside you, so big, so good…

And then he started moving. With every deep thrust, you felt like you might cum that second. He was so rough, his fingers digging into your hips. You knew for sure there would be bruises the next morning. 

Yunho fucked you like he hated you, and as he leaned over your back, you could feel he was still wearing his sweater and buttons from the show. The pins felt cold on your back, and you shivered. 

“You like it like that? You like it when I fuck you rough?”

You nodded. “Yes, alpha.” 

“You know, you really should share with Sannie.” Seonghwa’s voice was light, lilting. “He’s been waiting so patiently.”

You could hear rustling behind you, and a whimper that sounded like Mingi’s. It was probably San standing up, and you wondered if Mingi had returned to sucking him off as soon as his knot had gone down and he’d left the bed.

Yunho fucking growled. 

You whined, the display of dominance turning you on more, but the rest of the room went silent. 

“I’m so sorry.” Yunho said immediately, stilling his hips. “Oh my God, I did not mean to do that.”

“It’s okay.” San said, and he sounded genuine. “Take your time with y/n, I’ll get my turn after.”

You did your best to stay still, trying not to ruin their conversation, but you needed him fucking inside you. 

“Thank you, San.” Yunho’s voice turned to you. “You alright, sunshine?”

“Mhm.” Your voice was small. “Yes, Alpha.”

“You want more?” Yunho’s voice turned smooth, slippery. 

“Yes.” You breathed.

“Yunho?” 

You pushed yourself up from the bed at that voice. “Yeosang?” You hadn’t even heard him come in.

But there he was, sitting cross legged on the bed beside you. You could see the fabric between his legs was dark, clinging to his thighs with slick. 

“What is it, baby?” Yunho hummed.

Yeosang bit his lip. “I fear… y/n may be sending me into heat.”

Your head nearly spun at that. One omega sending another into heat was not something that happened often, not unless the pheromones were just right. It had to be the scents of the alphas in the room who’d already fucked you who had a relationship to Yeosang, right? It couldn’t be you?

Yeosang smelled sweet, smelled needy. You whined. 

“Hey, Sannie? I have an idea.” Seonghwa said. “Why don’t you fuck Yeosang while you wait your turn.”

“Fuck.” San sighed. “I would love to, but I gotta keep disciplining this little slut for now.” There was a strangled noise from probably Mingi. 

You could hear Seonghwa’s smirk in his voice. “Joong? Wanna get over here and fill Sangie up?”

“I can do that.”

You’d almost forgotten about Hongjoong and Wooyoung. You looked around for them and saw Wooyoung laying on the other bed, watching, as Hongjoong got up to position Yeosang beside you. 

He smiled at you. “Hi, y/n.”

“Hi, Yeosang.” You breathed. He was so beautiful, still in his stage makeup, with bronze blush and little star freckles dotting his cheeks. “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re pretty.” 

“Can I kiss Yeosang?” You looked over your shoulder at Yunho.

He laughed, thrusting his hips into you. Your head fell back on the pillow in front of you. 

“Yeah, you can kiss him.”

You pulled your head up and looked at Yeosang for a moment, just taking him in. His expression went blissed-out for a moment as Hongjoong slid inside him, and you took that opportunity to pull his face to yours and kiss him.

“Mm, y/n.” He moaned into your mouth. “You taste so good.”

“Wooyoung.” You explained. 

You and Yeosang kept kissing, your hands slowly getting a little more exploratory with each other, while Yunho fucked you and Hongjoong fucked him. It felt so fucking good to have him inside you, and to have two pairs of warm hands on your body. 

You were dimly aware of Seonghwa moving to the other bed, and based on the sounds you were hearing he was touching Wooyoung, but you were too caught up in Yunho and Yeosang to really care. 

You could barely breathe for the size of Yunho’s cock inside you. He wasn’t quite as big as Mingi, but he still felt delicious inside you, hitting spots inside you that made you sigh and whine in pleasure. This was a side of him you’d never seen, and it made you feel so good.

“Fuck me.” You whined. 

“I am, sunshine.” Yunho gripped your hips tighter. “You’re already kissing Sangie, do you need someone else to come over and shut you up with their cock?” His voice turned into a whisper that edged on a growl. “No one else is touching you till I’m done with you.”

Yunho’s possessiveness was really fucking hot. He was a man possessed, fucking you with the fervor of an acolyte worshipping their god. 

Yeosang whimpered, and you looked at him. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears beading at their corners, and his mouth was wide. You wondered what he’d look like choking on someone’s cock— Mingi’s giant one, maybe. Although it seemed from what Seonghwa had said he wasn’t going to be fucking anyone’s face. Maybe they used Yeosang as a punishment. He’d have to hold Mingi in his mouth while Mingi stayed completely still. You could see it in your mind’s eye, Mingi looking at Hwa or Hongjoong and absolutely begging to thrust down Yeosang’s throat, and them denying him time after time. Maybe he’d even cry.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a particularly rough thrust from Yunho, and you cried out as you felt his knot starting to build at your entrance. “Fuck, Yunho, knot me, please.” You cried. 

“Beg a little harder.” He snarled. 

“Please, please, Yunho, please!” 

“That’s it.” He held you in a punishing grip, forcing his knot into you. You held your hand to your stomach, feeling the bulge of him inside you. He began to cum, groaning, and your orgasm hit you at the same moment. You arched your back, pushing you into a kiss with Yeosang, who returned it with a whine.

Yunho slumped on top of you, pressing a kiss onto your back. “You feel so fucking good, sunshine. Taking my cock so good.”

You sighed. “You feel so good, Yunho.”

The door opened one more time. You knew who it had to be. 

“Jongho.” San said. “Welcome to the orgy!” 

You could smell him as soon as he walked into the room. You’d forgotten he’d started entering pre-rut right after the show, and had decided to sequester himself in his room. It seemed Mingi’s text had encouraged him to come take a turn with you. 

Yunho’s knot went down quickly, deflating at the scent of another alpha clearly ready to fuck you into submission. The look in Jongho’s eyes was downright predatory, but the rest of his expression looked a bit nervous. He was chewing on his lip. “Hey y/n… do you still… need someone?”

You could feel yourself growing distressed at the sensation of so many ateez member’s cum leaking out of you. “Yes, Jongho, please, I need you to fill me up.”

Jongho’s clothes were off him in a flash, and he was on top of you. You were briefly worried that Yunho would get aggressive again, but he seemed spent, moving to take your place making out with Yeosang on the other half of the bed. 

“Not so fast, Choi.” San stood up. “I’ve been waiting though everyone else, it’s my turn.”

Jongho looked thoughtful for a moment. “What if we shared?”

San raised his eyebrows. “I’m listening.”

“I’ll get inside her… and then you can join me.” He looked between your legs. “I think her little hole can take it.”

You clenched around nothing, breathing hard. The thought of both of them inside you at the same time, fucking you in rhythm, was almost more than your heat-addled brain could handle. You needed them so bad you could barely even get out a whine, your desire choking you.

San smiled. “I like that idea.”

Jongho lined himself up with you, everyone’s cum and your slick making it an easy slide inside. You still gasped as he filled you up. Jongho was so thick, you wondered how San would fit. 

“Fuck.” Jongho’s voice was low. “I’m gonna knot you so hard.”

You took a shaky breath, lifting your hips weakly in an effort to get him to move. 

He laughed and grabbed your legs, starting to push in and out. Your eyes started to lose focus. 

“San, get over here.”

You weren’t even paying attention to how they were positioning themselves, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, but you could feel a finger enter beside Jongho’s cock. 

The stretch was so good. It was intense, but you could handle it. You wanted more. You wanted both of them. 

“More.” You choked out. 

“Slut.” San bit out. “I’ll give you more.” He bypassed two fingers and skipped straight to three. “Good, taking it so well. You’re gonna need to be prepared if you want both of us.”

“Want both of you.”

San sighed. “So impatient.” You could feel something bigger pressing at your entrance, beside Jongho. San swore, Jongho made a high noise, and you panted as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. 

“Beautiful.” Jongho reached down to brush away a piece of your hair. “Beautiful girl.”

You made a pleased noise.

And then you couldn’t make any noise at all as they began to fuck you, alternating thrusts. First San’s cock, then Jongho’s, then San’s, then Jongho’s. It was so much, and the rhythm was uneven at the beginning, making it even nicer when they settled into it. You were overstimulated, your body trembling and leaking slick and taking it so well, as Jongho and San kept telling you.

The room had descended into debauchery. Hongjoong and Yeosang were still going at it, with Yunho stroking Yeosang’s cock. Seonghwa and Wooyoung had begun to fuck Mingi from both ends, and he looked like he was in heaven. And of course Jongho and San were both deep inside you.

You hadn’t expected your night to go like this, not even a little bit, but you were so glad for the turn it had taken.

Jongho groaned. “I’m gonna cum, Sannie.”

San sighed. “Ugh, fine.” He moved up towards your face and held his cock in front of your mouth. “Get me off, y/n.”

You practically started salivating at the sight of his cock, opening your mouth and starting to lick at his tip. 

Jongho gave a few more strong thrusts before his knot inflated. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he locked himself inside you and started to cum, weakly sucking on San. 

As your orgasm passed, you flopped on your back, completely exhausted. 

“It’s okay, baby, I can finish myself off.” San whispered, kissing your forehead. “You were so good for us.” 

You finally felt satiated for the night, satisfied, now that all eight of your boys had had the chance to take a turn with you. Your heat hadn’t broken yet, but you felt safe now. If you had them with you, everything would be okay.

And as the rest of them finished up and crawled on the bed to cuddle with you and the others, you thought that this was what a pack must feel like. 

[onlymingyus]

Somebody [SVTHUB world tour collab]

pairing; choi seungcheol x f!reader

genre; smut (minor dni), fluff, angst, romance, fake dating au

summary; When you need someone to help you out of a bind quickly, you pick the first person you see to be your “boyfriend”, you just didn’t expect it to be your single hot dad neighbor, Choi Seungcheol…

content warnings; single father!seungcheol, teacher!reader, seungcheol has a child (obviously), eating/drinking, jeonghan/joshua (implied relationship but not stated), betting metioned, alcohol, medical field - doctor!seungcheol, doctor!joshua, mentions cheating in past relationship, mentions death/accident of spouse - widow!seungcheol --- i am sure there are more, if there is anything important you want me to add let me know

smut warnings; unprotected sex (birth control mentioned), creampie, fingering, oral (f receiving), begging, crying (pleasure), multiple orgasm, lots of pet names, marriage kink, seungcheol carries the reader and is larger than the reader, manhandling, shower sex...again if I miss something let me know.

w/c; 25.2k and some change (623 extra words for patreon bonus)

svthub world tour masterlist

a/n; thank you to my @junkissed for proofreading for me once again, i love you so so much. i really hope you guys enjoy my little addition to the svthub world tour and those on tumblr will join me in Barcelona for the bonus 💕

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

You were exhausted. You had been living in your new apartment complex for around three months, yet you still weren’t completely unpacked. Between work and just a general unwillingness to complete a single project that had to do with your personal life, it seemed easier to let the boxes sit where they lay until they became an inconvenience. Today, they were an inconvenience. 

So now you find yourself having worked a full eight hour work day and you still managed to unpack four of the daunting boxes, and you were feeling pretty good about yourself. At least you were until you made your way down to the parking lot to put the boxes into the recycling bin and heard an unwelcome voice. 

“Y/N… hey.” 

Your ex-boyfriend’s voice made any strength you had in your arms leave as you attempted to push the boxes into the large blue bin. He didn’t live in your complex. In fact, you had moved out of your shared apartment with him, which was at least a 20 minute drive away. It should surprise you that he would show up uninvited and unannounced, but after a five year relationship with him, you knew he was persistent. 

Wiping your hands off on your jeans, you clear your throat and turn to meet the man’s eyes before looking for how you were going to get out of the situation. You weren’t afraid of your ex; it was more that he didn’t know when to stop. You had told him time and time again, after a very messy breakup where you had caught him cheating, that you wouldn’t take him back. It didn’t make it any easier that you had the same profession as him and when things had been great, the two of you had applied at the same place. 

“Alex… wild seeing you here. You don’t even live here.” 

He knew you were being evasive. You did the same thing at work, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t still try. Persistence was key. There had been something there between the two of you that made a relationship last for as long as it did, and if he worked hard enough, he could get it back. At least that’s what he thought. 

Sighing, Alex watches you turn away from him, heading back towards the building. Following behind you, he groans when you shoot him a dirty look. 

“Babe, seriously? I’m looking at the apartments in the area. I thought I’d just stop by and say hi.” 

Rolling your eyes, you use your body to shield the keypad so you can type in the code to unlock the complex’s door, hearing the code get denied, once and then twice. You were flustered and hitting the wrong buttons. 

“Sure, whatever. You have a perfectly fine apartment, and don’t call me babe. I’m not your babe.” 

When you can’t seem to get into the building, Alex sighs again, reaching out to try to comfort you, but he only manages to make you uncomfortable as he grabs your arm, telling you to calm down. You look to the door surprised to see it opening, a larger man furrowing his brows at the sight in front of him before you give him a relieved and pleading look. 

"Oh, thank God, hi honey. Alex, have you met my boyfriend?” 

Tilting his head in confusion, Seungcheol looks between you and the man holding your arm before he sees the desperation on your face. You were in some sort of distress. He knew you lived in the building; in fact, you were his neighbor, though he hadn’t had much of a chance to speak to you yet. Seungcheol knew he could say he didn’t know you, go on his way, staying out of your business, but something about you and what was happening told him he needed to play along. Extending his hand towards the one around your arm, Seungcheol gives the man a tight warning smile. 

“Hey man, I’m Seungcheol.” 

You feel Alex’s hand slide from your arm, his brows furrowing at the new information. Watching the two men, you feel your heart in your throat as they shake hands and the man named Seungcheol moves closer to you with a smile, looking at you expectantly.

“It was great to meet you Alex, but uh...” Clearing his throat, Seungcheol tries to think about how to get you out of this without making you uncomfortable. Shrugging, he sighs and just goes for it. “I was just coming to see why you had been gone for so long. Dinner is ready.” 

Your cheeks burn as Alex stares at you, his eyes narrowing. You can tell he is almost looking for holes in your and Seungcheol’s story, but when you smile and Seungcheol puts his arm around your shoulders, Alex rolls his eyes. You weren’t sure if he actually bought the entire story on the spot, but it had been enough to get him to put his hands in his pockets and for him to back up, muttering. 

“I’ll see you at work, Y/N.” 

Offering your ex a strained smile, you lean into Seungcheol until Alex is out of sight. Taking a deep breath, you feel the pressure of being around him lift off of you before you glance up at Seungcheol and give him an apologetic look. Moving his arm, Seungcheol chuckles and shakes his head, turning back towards the door and using his keyfob to open it for you, letting you slip by him. 

“Uh…thank you. Seriously. I’m so fucking sorry to drag you into that.” 

Leaning against the metal doorframe, Seungcheol just smiles and shrugs. His eyes stay on yours as you walk backwards for a few steps towards the elevator. 

“My pleasure, honey. Have a good evening.” 

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips when the handsome man teases you. Backing into the elevator door, you laugh and shake your head, turning to press the button before glancing back to look at Seungcheol, still watching you for a moment before he waves and lets the door shut, leaving you alone. 

Finally, in the elevator, you can take a breath as you lean against the wall. With each soft ding of the elevator as it climbs the floors, you chew at your lips and laugh under your breath at how the exchange between you and Seungcheol has ended. It was silly for you to feel so smitten by someone who had just helped you out of a hard situation, but god had he been attractive. 

Walking towards your apartment, you sigh, taking your key out of your pocket as you glance to the door next to yours. Your brows furrow as you remember the first few days when you had moved into the apartment complex and you had met your neighbor in passing. He had been nice, asked you if you needed any help, but most of all, he had been attractive. Feeling your heart sink into your stomach, you picture the face of the man who had asked if you needed help moving boxes and it’s the same face that had pretended to be your boyfriend. 

“Sara!” 

Jutting your hip to the side, you barely manage to let one of your students run by you as he heads straight for a friend. Smiling at the interaction, you don’t notice the boy's father trailing behind him, a small backpack in his hands. 

“Matthew… You need to apologize to your teacher. I know you are excited, but still watch where you are going.” 

Shaking your head, you start to turn around towards the somewhat familiar voice when the small boy pouts up at you. He is so cute that you can’t stop yourself from squatting down to his level to smile at him and adjust his small tie on his uniform. 

“‘M sorry, teacher. I haven’t seen Sara all summer. Daddy wouldn’t let me stay at her house because I’m a boy.” 

You find yourself nodding along with his words, sympathizing with him until you can’t help the small laugh that slips from your lips. 

“It’s okay, Matthew. There will be plenty of time to play with Sara at school. Cut your daddy some slack, okay?” 

Ushering him along, you watch him for a moment longer, half turning towards the boy's father but still not quite looking at him. You have a habit of watching your students more than you do their parents, it would only take a second for a five year old to find trouble. 

“Don’t worry about Matthew. No harm done.” 

Seungcheol grins at you as you watch the kids so diligently. He had no idea that you were his son’s teacher; this was a happy surprise, or perhaps an awkward one. He hadn’t really made up his mind yet. It isn’t until you finally glance at him and your mouth falls open in confusion that Seungcheol presses his lips together and winces at your reaction. 

“Didn’t know your boyfriend had a kid, huh? Is that a deal breaker?” 

You can feel your cheeks burning at Seungcheol’s joke, but your eyes quickly move over him before you give yourself something else to do by reaching for Matthew’s bag. It was better if you kept yourself busy and just did your job. Laughing a bit awkwardly, you meet Seungcheol’s eyes and bite at your lip out of nerves as he lets you take the bag and you move to the small wooden cubbies to find Matthew’s name. 

“Uh… I will be honest, I didn’t. I’m sorry again, by the way. Even more so now. I swear to you, I’m not a complete mess; I’m a good teacher.” 

Shaking his head, Seungcheol finds himself frowning when you seem to find the need to explain yourself and defend your position. He hadn’t meant to cause that reaction. 

“I—no… I’m sure you are. I’ve heard nothing but great things about you leading up to today. I apologize… that was rude of me. I was just trying to make a joke. Break the tension.” 

Feeling a pang of guilt at your reaction as Seungcheol frowns, you take a deep breath and shake your head. You didn’t want him to feel bad. It just wasn’t the most ideal situation to find yourself in with a parent. Running your fingers over your hair, you press your lips together and scrunch up your nose, drawing Seungcheol’s attention to it. He smiles, finding the expression on your face cute. You were cute. 

“No, no, I know. I’m sorry. I’ve only been here a couple years and this is my first year without working in someone else's classroom. I just don’t wanna mess up.” 

Seungcheol nodded, understanding the feeling—perhaps not in the same profession, but he had been there in his own way. Gesturing towards the kids, Matthew in particular, as your eyes once again move over the kids, more of them making their way in, he shrugs as he speaks. 

“With how you have been watching them... I don’t think we have a single thing to worry about.” 

He finds himself wanting to stay, if not just to talk to you but also to Matthew. It was his first day of big boy school, and even if Matthew looked like he was doing just fine with the adjustment, Seungcheol couldn’t say the same for himself. One glance at his wrist, seeing how much time he had spent standing in the classroom, however, makes Seungcheol sigh and run his fingers through his brown hair. 

“I gotta go. I should get out of the way anyway. Matthew…” 

Hearing his name, the small boy perks up and looks towards his dad with a grin before making his way over. Ruffling his hair, Seungcheol practically pouts, making your heart feel heavy. This part was hard, even for you. You didn’t have children of your own, but the sentiment was still there when you watched loving parents leave their children for the day. 

“I love you. Please be good. Learn somethin’?” 

Giggling, Matthew leans into his dad’s touch and rocks on the balls of his feet as you take a step away to give them a moment to themselves. 

“Love you too. I’m so smart, Daddy. Teacher will be suppised!” 

Rolling his eyes at how cocky his son sounds, Seungcheol groans under his breath and looks at his watch again. 

“Yeah, alright, it's 'surprised’ and stay away from Uncle Jeonghan. Learn some humility.” 

“I don’t know what that means, Daddy.” 

Your small laugh draws Seungcheol’s attention and makes him grin as he ushers Matthew towards you. 

“I bet Miss Y/N knows and she will let me know if you’ve put it into practice when I pick you up after school.” 

Winking at you, Seungcheol turns to head out the door, glancing over his shoulder to wave at you as he goes. Looking down at the small boy with an expectant look in his eye, you bite at your lip and try to think about how you are going to explain humility and modesty to a five year old on a Monday morning. 

“That’s so good!” 

You clap as you watch a few of your kids preen with pride after counting to ten. They had been working hard after recess and a snack. It had been a good first day and you were proud of each and every one of them, even if you couldn’t help how your eye kept going to Matthew. He was so cute—not that all the kids in your class weren’t; there was just something about his gummy smile that reminded you so much of his dad. 

Looking up at the clock as the bell rings, you quickly look back at the kids, who mostly look confused until the door opens and parents start to file in. 

“Hey! Everybody… I know you want to see your parents, but let’s remember to grab our bags. Cubbies first, please!” 

You watch as most of the kids listen to you, moving in small lines to the wooden cubbies to grab their jackets and bags before finding their parents and heading out the door. Bending to pick up a few toys, you furrow your brows when you hear your name. It’s said by a small, familiar voice—Matthew, who pouts at you when you finally meet his eyes. He looks around, seeing most of the room clearing out, but his dad is nowhere to be found. 

“Hey, what’s up? Maybe your daddy is running late. Maybe mommy is coming?” 

Shaking his head, Matthew gives you a confused look as he tugs at the bag on his shoulder. 

“I don’t have a mommy. Can you call my daddy?” 

Feeling a pang of guilt at mentioning his mother, you squat down to Matthew’s level so he doesn’t have to tilt his head back to look up at you anymore. You knew you could call Seungcheol if you needed to, but school had just ended. Maybe you could give him a few more minutes. Reaching for Matthew’s bag, you sigh and offer the boy a smile, watching him match it with that cute gummy grin. 

“How about we give him a few more minutes and if he doesn’t come, we can call him? You can pick any book you want and I’ll read it to you.” 

The idea of choosing any book in the room is enough to make Matthew okay with your terms. Wiggling out of his bag, he goes to the shelf, looking over the book covers as you stand and put his bag on the table with your purse. Checking the clock, your brows furrow with a sigh. It wasn’t that late and you were sure this wouldn’t be the last child you would be waiting for. 

Cursing under his breath, Seungcheol looks at his watch as he speed walks through the school halls towards your classroom. He was over 30 minutes late and he was sure you were upset with him. He should have called but he was more concerned with trying to get to the school in one piece. 

Reaching the door, he starts to speak when he hears your soft voice and for some reason, it makes him stop in his tracks. He sees Matthew sitting in your lap as he rests back against your chest, a book in your hands. You smile as you read the book, trying to come up with a voice for each character, making his son laugh. Seungcheol almost feels bad for interrupting the moment, but then he feels bad again for leaving you here at work with Matthew for so long. 

“Y/N…”

Lifting your head, hearing your name, you smile at Seungcheol, feeling Matthew slip off your lap and run towards the door. You were definitely second best, but that was completely fair. Seungcheol holds the back of Matthew’s head as the boy wraps his arms around his legs and pouts up at him, asking him where he’s been. 

“I got caught up at work; I’m so so sorry. It won’t happen again.” 

Moving towards the table, you pick up Matthew’s bag as you shake your head. 

“It’s no problem. It happens. Maybe you could just text me to let me know if you are gonna be late?” 

Nodding, Seungcheol lets out a breath, lifting his hand to rub at the back of his neck. You were right. 

“No… yeah, absolutely. I’ll make it up—” 

“Oh! Hey… Seungcheol, right?” 

Your smile fades hearing Alex’s voice as you watch Seungcheol’s brows furrow in confusion. Moving quicker towards the door, to hand Seungcheol Matthew’s bag and get his attention, but his eyes move to your ex. 

“I—yeah… I gotta get Matthew home.” 

Looking towards you as if asking for an explanation, Seungcheol takes the bag from your hand while ushering his son out the door. You try to let him go, gesturing towards the hall, when Alex scoffs and gives him a once over muttering under his breath. 

“Seriously, Y/N? A parent...” 

Swallowing hard, you feel your chest tighten when Seungcheol stops in his tracks. You wouldn’t blame him if he told Alex it was all bullshit right there. It would be smart of you to do it, he wasn’t going to let it go either way. Starting to speak, you stop when Seungcheol is quicker, keeping his voice low as he smirks at Alex. 

“Is there a policy against that, Alex?” Glancing at you, Seungcheol reaches out to grab your hand, squeezing it lightly, winking at you before dropping it. “See you later, Y/N.” 

Your cheeks burn as you watch Seungcheol walk down the hall with Matthew. The young boy glancing back to smile at you curiously before looking up at his dad and saying something you can’t make out. Beside you, Alex’s jaw tightens as he watches you keep your eyes on the man leaving. What he wouldn’t give for you to look at him like that again. 

“There should be a policy against it…” 

Shooting him a look, you turn towards your classroom, your hand on the doorframe as you speak. 

"Well, there isn’t, Alex, but there is one about harassment. Leave me alone.” 

You watch his mouth open and close a couple of times as you close the door in his face, leaving you in peaceful silence to wrap your mind around what had just happened.

Wiping sweat from your brow, you glance around your living room at the boxes that had once been piled up in a corner. It had been difficult to tell if you were moving in or out, but as you broke down, one last box signified that you had officially settled in. It had only taken you months to do it, and for some reason this Saturday felt like the right moment; everything was feeling like home in this apartment for once. 

Grabbing as many of the boxes as you can, you let out a groan at how many trips you are going to have to take as you make your way to your front door and push it open with your shoulder. Cursing under your breath to the sound of your keys hitting the floor at your feet, you try to lean down without putting down the boxes when a hand brushes over your fingers, taking your keys from you. Before you are able to say anything, your eyes meet Seungcheol's, and your lips pull up into a shy smile. 

“Your hands seemed full.” 

Nodding as you take the keys and slip them into your back pocket, you don’t notice Seungcheol glancing into your apartment, seeing the pile of boxes. It isn’t until he clears his throat, gesturing inside, that you tilt your head curiously.

“Want me to help with the rest? I think we can get them all down to the bin in one go.” 

Your first instinct is to tell him no, that you don’t want to bother him, but there is a look in his eye that you don’t want to turn him away. So you step out into the hall and smile at Seungcheol instead. 

“I mean, if you are really offering.” 

Laughing, Seungcheol nods and slides past you, glancing around your apartment with a grin before he leans down to pick up the larger pile of boxes, heading back towards you. 

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N. I was hoping to talk to you today anyway.” 

Moving through the hall with Seungcheol at your side, you use your elbow to press the elevator button, your head once again tilting to the side, almost like a puppy hearing a new word as you listen to him speak. He wanted to talk to you. You try to think of the reason, but only one comes to mind.  

“Is it about Matthew?” 

Pursing his lips briefly, Seungcheol quickly smiles at your assumption and nods to cover up any doubt. You weren’t wrong in thinking he would want to talk about his son. You were his teacher, it was only fair that he would be the topic of normal conversation. 

“Mmm, he loves school. I think you are the main reason.” 

Shaking your head, you step off the elevator and head for the main doors out of the apartment building with Seungcheol in tow. When you stop to lean your boxes against the wall, opening the door for him, Seungcheol smiles at you as he moves through the door, only to stop and hold it open for you with his foot. 

“Thanks, but no... I think it’s his friends. He loves hanging out with Sara.” 

Seungcheol lets the door close behind you before trailing along at your side as he shakes his head. He knew how much his son liked his friends, but there was something different about Matthew since he had started school. 

“It’s more than that. He’s eager to get there. He can see Sara anytime, and that doesn't have to be at school. He wants to get to Miss Y/N’s class.” 

Feeling your cheeks heat up, your lips pull up into a smile that you are unable to hide even as you look down. It was one thing to be told you were good at your job; it was another to hear that a student wanted to go to school because of your class. It was everything a teacher wanted to hear. 

Watching Seungcheol push his boxes into the bin, you run your fingers along the underside of one of the boxes still in your hands. You weren’t sure if he even understood the gift he had given you while helping you with a mundane task that you had been dreading. Glancing down, you take a deep breath, hoping the butterflies in your stomach will calm down when Seungcheol’s voice brings you back to reality. 

“Here, let me put these in there too.” 

Meeting his eyes, you swallow hard, feeling his fingers glide over yours as Seungcheol takes the boxes from your hands. When you glance away with a small smile on your lips, he takes notice. Pushing the rest of the boxes into the bin, Seungcheol bites at his lip, trying to choose his words carefully, before he turns back to you and scratches at his brow. 

“Anything else to throw away? Is what’s his name lingering around? I can toss him in too.” 

Feeling your cheeks burn, you scoff into a laugh as Seungcheol moves back to your side. Walking in tandem towards the building, you glance up at him, shaking your head as he laughs, along with you leaning to knock your arm with his to let you know he is joking. 

“Alex… and thankfully he isn’t. God, I am so sorry about all of that. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved to begin with.” 

Shaking his head, Seungcheol purses his lips, watching you take your keys out to tap your fob against the reader, letting him open the door for you. 

“It’s not a big deal. You seemed really uncomfortable. I was happy to help… I mean, I still am. He strikes me as the type to not give up easily.” 

Scoffing once again, you follow Seungcheol to the elevator, leaning against the wall as you meet his eyes. That was an understatement. If he was able to tell from just a couple of meetings with your ex, that should say plenty about Alex’s character. You find yourself allowing your eyes to move over Seungcheol’s face, his handsome eyes, and his plump lips before you sigh and look down at your hands as the elevator steadily climbs the floors. 

“He’s not. He thinks that’s a redeeming quality.” Sighing into your words, you push off the wall as the doors open, stepping out into the hall as Seungcheol follows you. “But he’d be wrong. I couldn’t ask you to help me anymore. You’ve done so much.” 

Offering Seungcheol a smile, you walk backwards for a moment as he tilts his head, his own smile lifting at one side as his eyes move over you. You were so cute; he knew it was dangerous this game he was playing. He wanted to get close to you and he knew there were better ways, this had just been the one that had been presented to him. 

“You didn’t ask. I’m offering… Speaking of, you busy this evening?” 

Shaking your head, you slide your keys from your pocket as you watch Seungcheol lean against his door. You can’t help but notice the way your eyes once again move over him. He was possibly the most handsome man you had ever seen and also the most unattainable. You needed to remember who he was and the boundary that was set, even if it was blurred. 

“Mm, no. Why? Need some help with Matthew?” 

Seungcheol sighs into a laugh. It wasn’t unfair that you’d assume he wanted to ask you something involving his kid, but he just smiles as you look at him curiously, as if realizing for the first time that Matthew isn’t around. 

“Oh… no. He’s with my parents this weekend. I was gonna ask if you wanted to come over for dinner?” 

Your brows furrow at Seungcheol’s question. That boundary was getting even more blurred as you considered his question and he seemed to see you struggle before he laughed and bit his lips before speaking up again. 

“We can talk about how to pretend to be a good fake couple. You know, for appearances sake. Maybe get Alex to get a life.” 

While Seungcheol’s explanation wasn’t entirely convincing, you smiled and nodded. In truth, you didn’t want to turn down the dinner invitation. You didn’t want to tell Seungcheol no and that you didn’t want to spend more time with him, even if Matthew wasn’t involved. It was a dangerous line you were walking. 

“Great! Uh… around 6?” 

At 5:55 you were considering texting Seungcheol to tell him that you had suddenly come down with the flu. Your anxiety was causing your heart to rise into your throat as you tugged at your shirt, trying to make sure you looked decent. 

With your hand hovering over the door, you whine to yourself before knocking lightly at Seungcheol’s door and waiting. Maybe he would make it easier on you and just not answer the door, but then the idea of that makes you frown. You hate the idea of not being able to spend the evening with Seungcheol. Even the idea of something disrupting it causes disappointment to bubble in your stomach until the door opens and you are met with his handsome face and a gummy smile that matches your favorite one of Matthew’s. 

“Hey, you look—uh… I mean, you look pretty. Come in.” 

Seungcheol stumbles over his words, the flush of his cheeks evident as he shakes his head, trying to keep his head and not overstep with you. He knew where he stood and where he wanted this to go, but you had made yourself pretty clear the first day in your classroom. You were his son’s teacher and now this situation... It was odd. Seungcheol was just happy to at least have you in his life as a friend, if not more. 

Swallowing hard, you look down to hide your smile as Seungcheol compliments you. You weren’t sure how to react, so instead you pressed your lips together and gestured outward to his apartment. 

“Your place is so nice.” 

Shrugging, Seungcheol leads you towards the open kitchen and living room area where, the dinner, he has been working on bubbles quietly on the stove. You watch him adjust the temperature and stir a sauce as he sighs, tilting his head. 

“It’s a mess. I should have cleaned up more. I don’t usually have company besides a few friends, but they are used to Matthew’s shit laying around. Here, do you like this?” 

Holding the wooden spoon out towards you over the bar, Seungcheol watches as you blink at him a couple times before leaning forward to take a bit of the sauce off the spoon. It is savory and delicious as it hits your tongue and the back of your throat. Closing your eyes, you nod and lift your fingers to brush them over your lips as he watches you with a smile on his face at your reaction. 

“It’s delicious, Seungcheol.” 

Turning down the heat even more, Seungcheol moves to the sink to strain another larger pot as you watch him closely. His voice is calm and soothing. Everything about him makes you feel almost instantly comfortable in a space where you thought you’d want to hide under the table without a reason to truly be there. 

“I don’t know if it’s all that great. You are being nice, but this is my go to for dinner. Matthew likes pasta and I’m halfway decent at it. So I hope you actually like it.” 

Licking your lips, you lift your hand to cover your smile as you watch Seungcheol putting the finishing touches on dinner. He moves with ease, his eyes catching yours every once in a while, making your skin erupt in chillbumps as you glance away shyly. You could feel yourself getting too comfortable around him if you were to let your guard down, and that was all your body was telling you to do. 

“Mind to grab a couple of those wine glasses?” 

Glancing to your right, you shake your head gently before collecting two of the fragile glasses as Seungcheol moves past you towards the table. You hear your stomach growl as the smell of the pasta and garlic bread greets your nose when you get close enough to set the glasses down. Smiling, Seungcheol sneaks a look in your direction, watching your brows furrow and your lips turn down in embarrassment as he hears the grumble coming from your stomach. 

“I—sorry. I didn’t eat lunch.” 

Shaking his head, he picks up the bottle of wine, twisting the opener into the cork as he takes a breath to cover a small laugh. Seungcheol swore he could feel the effects of the alcohol before even taking a sip, with you standing so close to him and with how sweet you were. He knew this was a dangerous arrangement. Not that either of you would be doing anything wrong, but as the moments ticked by, it was getting difficult not to give into lingering glances. 

“You have nothing to apologize for. Except perhaps to yourself. You need to eat regularly, Y/N.” 

Groaning playfully, you hold the glasses steady, allowing Seungcheol to easily pour wine into each before he moves your chair, letting you sit down first. You can feel your cheeks flush up into your ears. The sound of blood rushing to your head has your hand reaching for your wine, bringing the glass to your lips to take a sip of the liquid courage as Seungcheol lifts your plate, putting pasta on it with an appreciative hum. 

“Thank you. I promise, I’m usually better about eating... and I always make sure the kids eat their lunch and snacks at school. So don’t think my own behavior somehow reflects—” 

Moving his hand from the serving fork, Seungcheol slides it over yours, meeting your eyes as you start to ramble. You were spiraling and there was no reason for it. 

“Hey… I know you are a good teacher. I don’t worry a single moment in the day about Matthew’s wellbeing when I know he’s with you. Don’t worry about that.” 

Taking a deep breath, you flex your fingers under Seungcheol’s palm, feeling his hands wrap around yours as his brows furrow. You can see the look in his eye and how he’s searching to make sure you understand what he’s told you, so you nod. Even if you didn’t completely feel adequate, you needed Seungcheol to let go of your hand before you fainted into his floor or made a run for the door. 

“Mmkay… I–mm…” Smiling, trying to compose yourself, you watch Seungcheol’s hand move from yours to his wine, making you feel like you can take a breath. “The wine is very good. Thank you for inviting me to eat.” 

Letting the wine glide over his tongue, Seungcheol smiles against the glass. He had noticed that you were starting to panic, but so was he. It hadn’t been his intention, but the alternative was you feeling like you weren’t good enough and that just wouldn’t work for him. Gesturing towards your plate, Seungcheol clears his throat and tilts his head before picking up his own fork. 

“Thank you for eating with me. I’m a sad, lonely sap when Matthew is gone on weekends. You saved me from boredom.” 

You weren’t sure how truthful Seungcheol was being but his words made you feel warm and they made you settle into your chair. They gave you a purpose to be there and not rush. You didn’t want him to be lonely. You suddenly realized how quiet it was in the apartment. You were used to that in yours but you could also sometimes hear Seungcheol and Matthew through the walls and they always sounded happy together. Of course, a weekend alone might be lonely for him. 

Two glasses of wine down and after refusing another helping of pasta, you felt even more relaxed around Seungcheol. He was funny and warm. You understood even more about Matthew after spending time with his dad. They were like a mirror image of one another and as much as you adored Matthew, you could see yourself feeling that way about Seungcheol as the night carried on. 

Soon you found yourself on his couch, another glass of wine in your hand as you pulled your legs up under you. Seungcheol grinned at you as you told him about going through your first year of assistant teaching. He could tell that you had a passion for your career and it was just one of the many things he was starting to love about you. This was becoming one of the easiest and equally difficult evenings of his night. While he loved talking to you and being close to you, he couldn’t help as his eyes moved over your pretty face and along your neck as he pictured getting closer to you and seeing if you’d let him touch you. Instead, he kept his respectful distance and admired you. 

Watching Seungcheol stand up to grab another bottle of wine, you tilt your head, letting your eyes move along his fit frame. You weren’t blind. You were a woman, you had needs, and god, if your body wasn’t screaming at you that you were an idiot for not trying to get closer to the man who had been smiling at you for the past few hours. You were simultaneously enraptured by him and terrified of him. You could see yourself falling for him and it would be hard and messy. It couldn’t end well, because the first person you saw in your mind was Matthew. 

Looking back around the room to pull your mind back to the present, despite the euphoric cloud of alcohol, you smile seeing the pictures of the boy on the wall. There were so many, from the time he was an infant to now. You could see pictures of Seungcheol and Matthew with others as well. A woman who you assumed was Matthew’s mother and some men who looked to be around Seungcheol’s age, perhaps brothers. A wave of longing hits you and you rest your head on your arm, a frown on your face as you keep looking around, finally noticing the degrees on the furthest wall. 

Narrowing your eyes, you struggle to make out the words, finally sitting up and leaning forward to read as Seungcheol moves back to the couch with a sigh. Reaching for your glass, the man says something you don’t pay attention to as he tries to hand you the glass. 

“Y/N? Is white wine okay?” 

Blinking a couple of times, you meet Seungcheol’s eyes and look at the glass in his hand with a clueless look on your face. A smile spreads over his face. He tilts his head and lets you take the glass from him as you gesture towards the wall with your other hand. 

“You—wait… You’re a doctor?” 

You weren’t sure what you had assumed Seungcheol did for a living, but a doctor hadn’t been on your bingo card. Looking around the room as you feel reality setting in, you can see that things make a bit more sense. The furniture was really nice. The wine was delicious and tasted expensive. Seungcheol, even in lounge wear, looked expensive. 

Shrugging, Seungcheol purses his lips as he takes a sip of the wine from the glass in his hand as he looks at his medical degree on the wall. He hadn’t really considered that you didn’t know or that it would matter. Meeting your eyes once again, he sighs and leans back against the back of the couch, getting comfortable. 

“Mmhm, family medicine. I have a small private practice in the city and a couple days a week I work out of the hospital in the emergency room. Are you that surprised? Do I not look smart enough to be a doctor or something?” 

Sitting up, you shake your head so fast Seungcheol is afraid you might get whiplash. Reaching forward as he laughs, he runs his fingers over your arm as you lift your glass to your lips, finally taking another sip to calm your nerves before explaining your apparent shock. 

“No…No—of course you are smart. You just don’t look like a doctor. I didn’t expect you to be... you know.” 

When you don’t elaborate, Seungcheol laughs as he leans to put his glass on a coaster on the end table. You take another larger sip of your wine as your eyes fall to the fingers of his other hand as they rest against your forearm and the couch. It isn’t lost on you, no matter how tipsy you might be or how much you enjoy his fingers on your skin. 

“I don’t know. Tell me. You can tell me anything.” 

That was a very dangerous thing to say to you and Seungcheol seemed to know it as he watched you snort into a laugh. Giving you the smile that you had grown to love so much, he bites at his lip and leans forward slightly, listening to the laugh fade as your eyes focus on him. 

“Seriously, tell me what you mean.” 

There was a lump in your throat and wine wasn’t going to get it to go down. You weren’t sure anything could. No matter how much you swallowed or cleared your throat, it was only when you glanced down at your wine that you were able to feel the pressure subside enough that you could talk. 

“I—you know what I mean, Seungcheol. The whole package, I guess.” 

Shaking his head again, Seungcheol sighs out a laugh, wishing he could just get you to say what you mean instead of this game where you beat around the bush. 

“Package? Like from Amazon? What are we talking about here, Y/N? Help me out.” 

He was frustrating in the most adorably clueless and teasing way. You had a feeling he knew what you were hinting at, even if he was trying to play dumb; he was a doctor after all. You had already insulted his intelligence once. Glancing up long enough to meet Seungcheol’s eyes, you take a deep breath and let it out with a sigh that sounds more like a laugh as you speak. 

“You’re incredibly attractive, a doctor, obviously successful, and a good dad. The whole package. I don’t think you can order that on Amazon.” 

Seungcheol bites at his lip after hearing you explain your words. It was better than he had anticipated. He felt bad for making you say it, he knew it had to be somewhat embarrassing, but he had to hear it. He might never hear it again, because at the end of the day, this wasn’t a real relationship. 

“Mm, well, that’s good for your boyfriend to know.”

Opening your mouth, you look confused but Seungcheol grins and picks up his wine, letting you off the hook as he takes a sip and continues. 

“You know, fake boyfriend.” 

A small, confused laugh slips from between your lips as you nod, trying to act like it is easy to understand and it all makes sense. You try to pretend like this is going to be easy and that him “helping” you keep up this ruse is a good idea, but who was it actually helping? 

“Right, my fake boyfriend. My fake doctor boyfriend.” 

Smirking, Seungcheol rolls his eyes and watches you finish off your glass of wine. He hated the word fake. Was it horrible of him to hope for a time when he could remove the word fake from his and your vocabulary? Yes, he knew it was. So he just takes a deep breath and points at your wine glass. 

“More wine, fake girlfriend?” 

Your laugh is so pretty, it almost breaks Seungcheol’s heart. He watches your head tilt back and his eyes move along your neck and back up to your face as you sigh. It’s when you glance at the clock on the wall and pout that he matches the pout, knowing what you are going to say. 

“It’s so late. I should go home.” 

Two in the morning. That was much later than you had intended on staying, but the look on Seungcheol’s face made you almost reluctant to get up. You were tired, the wine was doing a great job at aiding that fact, but it didn’t lessen that pout on his handsome face. You watch as he nods, a soft sigh escaping between his lips before he takes your empty glass and stands up. 

“Thank you again for coming over. I really did enjoy it. Maybe we can do this again sometime.” 

Your eyes follow Seungcheol into the kitchen as he puts the wine glasses into the sink. When he glances over his shoulder at you, giving you a hopeful look you can’t disappoint him even if your brain is screaming about how much this is going to hurt you. 

“Absolutely.” 

“That’s all you did?” 

Groaning at Jeonghan’s tone in his question, Seungcheol pushes a plate of leftover pasta across the kitchen island towards him and Jihoon. Lifting his hands, he gives his best friend an incredulous look before stabbing at his own food with a pout on his face. 

“What did you expect him to do, Jeonghan? Jump her the first chance he gets.” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes as he shoves a fork full of pasta into his mouth, talking between bites. Out of the two men, in his own opinion, he had the most level head in this situation. He understood why Seungcheol had let you go home and why he hadn’t made a move. Jeonghan, on the other hand, stared at his friend as if he had two heads and was growing another. 

“I expect him to grow some fucking balls. You deserve some happiness, Cheol. You have this hot little teacher next door that you won’t shut up about; she comes over, and that’s—that’s it!” 

Jeonghan made it seem like he had committed a crime by respecting you and your position as his teacher. Not that the two of you had exclusively said you didn’t want to actually explore things, but it was an unspoken thing. Seungcheol wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t get through medical school on a wish and a prayer. 

“I’m helping her with her stupid douche of an ex. It would be wrong of me to actually make a move. Plus, it would be weird for Matthew.” 

Finally swallowing a bite of his food, Jeonghan scoffs around the pasta at Seungcheol’s half ass attempt at an excuse. In his mind, it didn’t make any sense and he was grasping at straws. He had seen his best friend fall for someone before and he didn’t want to see him lose that chance because he was scared. 

“Bullshit, it would be weird for Matthew. He already talks about Miss Y/N all the damn time. He likes her more than he likes me at this point. It’s offensive…” 

Chuckling, Jihoon gets a harsh side eye from Jeonghan that he matches with one of his own. 

“I think it’s hilarious and I think that you need to stop riding Cheol’s ass. If he wants to ask her out, he’ll do it. If not—” 

“He’ll die alone and pouting.” 

Dropping his fork into his plate, Seungcheol lifts his hand to push at his temples as his friends continue to talk about him as if he isn’t even in the room. Both of them had good points and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Jeonghan had some of the better ones. He knew he was being a wimp when it came to you, but he wasn’t ready to bet and lose. 

Noticing that Seungcheol had gone quiet, Jeonghan turned his attention back to him, letting out a sigh as Jihoon did the same. Neither of them liked the look on his face. They had been friends with him for over a decade and been through a majority of the highs and the lows. They had been there for the best of his life so far and the day that he thought his own had ended because hers had. 

Rubbing his thumb into his palm as he thinks about what to say next, Jihoon furrows his brows deeply. For a moment, he looks annoyed, but that’s because he is. He’s annoyed that he’s going to agree with Yoon Jeonghan for the first time in a long time. Sighing in a groan, the man leans forward and taps his fingers on the island as he tries to make his point. 

“Listen, I’m not saying I completely agree with Jeonghan—”

“But clearly, he agrees—” 

Shooting a look at the man, Jihoon watches a smirk pull up at Jeonghan’s lips as he stops talking, letting him continue. 

“But... even I can admit that something is going on in your head, Cheol. I’m not going to push you as hard as him, but don’t let it slip through your fingers because of the unknown.” 

That was what terrified him. The unknown. You could reject him completely. He could look like a fool. You could accept him and fall in love with him. Then he might lose you. There was so much unknown. The unknown had ruined his life before and only the people closest to him and his son had kept him from drowning. 

“What if it doesn’t work out?” 

Nodding, Jeonghan lifts his hands off the island and takes a deep breath, letting it out as he meets Seungcheol’s eyes to answer his question. 

“And what if it does?” 

Forcing a smile on your face after a long day, you stand up as the bell rings and parents start to move into the room to collect their children. Taking your time, you note each one, telling them to have a good evening and that you will see them in the morning. 

It wasn’t that you hadn’t enjoyed your day, but you could feel a headache behind your eyes and fifteen screaming five year olds was a lot for anyone. So as the numbers started to dwindle, you could feel the anxiety starting to fade from you. 

“Hey, buddy!” 

Glancing up as Matthew squeals happily, you watch him run towards a slender but fit man that you vaguely recognize. Perhaps he had been on Seungcheol’s walls in one of the pictures, but you didn’t have a name to put—

“Uncle Jeonghan!”

Ah, so this was Uncle Jeonghan that Matthew talked about so much. Picking up your clipboard, you furrow your brows, moving over to him and the man as you quickly make sure the man’s name is listed as someone authorized to pick up. 

“Have a good day? This must be Miss Y/N that your daddy talks about all the time.” 

Lifting your head from the clipboard, you meet the man’s eyes as your cheeks start to burn. Opening your mouth, you close it quickly as he smirks at you and ruffles the boy's head as he clings close to him. 

“I—Yoon Jeonghan? If you could just sign for Matthew, since you're not his legal guardian and only listed as an authorized person, it’s policy.” 

Taking the clipboard from you, Jeonghan grins as you seem to shy away at his words. He could see the appeal. You were beautiful and seemed responsible. You were exactly Seungcheol’s type. 

“No problem; Y/N. Cheol had to work in the ER today so here I am to save the day. I honestly don’t know why he didn’t just ask you to bring him home.” 

Scoffing in surprise, you watch as Matthew gasps and looks up at you like a new toy. 

“That’d be so cool! Miss Y/N, can you one day? I can show you my toys.” 

Not wanting to disappoint the boy, you give him a strained smile and meet Jeonghan’s eyes, realizing he was an enabler. Seungcheol should have warned you about him, but maybe he didn’t even realize how your first meeting with him would go. 

“Maybe… I’m your teacher, Matthew. We play at school—” 

“Well and his neighbor and his daddy’s girl—” 

Shaking your head, you watch as Jeonghan bites his lip to stifle a laugh before nodding and holding up his free hand as a way of surrendering. Apparently Seungcheol had shared some details of your “relationship” with his friend. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out, but you had a feeling this man was the type to pull you out and back into the spotlight. 

“Maybe one day, Matthew... but let’s not get our hopes up.” 

Pouting up at you, Matthew just nods and moves away from you both to go get his things. Letting out a breath, you take back your clipboard and put it down on a shelf behind you as you and Jeonghan glance towards the small boy as he pulls on his jacket. 

“He’d let you take him home.” 

Furrowing your brows, you glance over at Jeonghan and shift on your feet at his words and the implication behind them. Noticing how you seem to nervously shift from foot to foot, Jeonghan smirks and glances down at his phone in his hand, answering a text from Seungcheol as he speaks to you. 

“One day he’ll man up and ask you out for real. This fake dating shit—” 

“Don’t curse in my classroom, please.” 

A laugh slips from between his lips as he glances up from his phone to offer you an apologetic smile before nodding and continuing. 

“Sure, sorry. As I was saying, this fake dating nonsense you two have going on right now isn't going to work. I can already tell you like him.” 

Insufferable. That's how you’d describe Yoon Jeonghan. You had known him for less than ten minutes and already you knew he was going to be an issue in your life. Crossing your arms, you start to sigh into your words, a dramatic big breath, when Alex’s voice once again ruins your moment. 

“Matt, buddy, let me help.” 

Jeonghan watches as your head moves like prey sensing a predator towards the other teacher, who was now helping Matthew with his bag. His eyes move to his godson’s face as he grimaces as the man tugs on the straps, keeping them tight on his arms. 

“He’s fine, Mr. Alex. Thank you.” 

You still sounded like yourself, with that sweet tone to your voice, but even Jeonghan could hear the hint of malice behind it. So this was Alex, and now Alex thought it was okay to mess with Seungcheol’s son. The “fake” dating made sense. This man did not understand boundaries and used everything in front of him as an open door. 

Stepping in front of Alex, you smile at Matthew and the smile transfers to the boy’s face. Jeonghan feels relief wash over him at the sight as you kneel down, adjust the straps back to where they were and then tie his shoe properly. 

“I was just helping out a student, Miss Y/N.” 

Oof… There was so much tension in this room that even Jeonghan felt like he was going to drown in it. Stepping forward, he clears his throat and offers his hand towards Matthew, letting him take his fingers. 

“And while I’m sure she appreciates that, and the parents do... I don’t know you, Mr. Alex, was it? From where I was standing, some strange man was touching my godson, which honestly made me nervous for a moment. I’d be more careful; this isn’t your classroom.” 

Standing up, you feel your cheeks burn under Alex’s eyes as he looks to you to defend him, but you don’t. Jeonghan had a point. Not every parent or guardian knew who all the teachers were, not even the students knew the other teachers. Simple acts could be misunderstood and while he was doing something to “be nice” and it was innocent, you knew there was another reason he was inserting himself into your and Matthew’s lives. 

“Well, I do apologize for the misunderstanding. My classroom is right down the hall. I was just coming to see Miss Y/N. We are very close.” 

Jeonghan just smirks at the man and shoots you a glance before looking at his phone and seeing a reply from Seungcheol. 

“I’m sure you are.” Dismissing the man, he looks at you and smiles brightly. “Y/N, dear… Cheol asked me if you wouldn’t mind helping me with Matthew once you get home? I’m an awful cook.” 

Opening his mouth to say something, Alex stops when Matthew squeals with delight and grabs at your shirt, begging you to come over. 

Another point to you and Seungcheol. 

Staring at Seungcheol’s apartment door, you listen to the sound of Matthew’s laughter. While you knew why you had agreed to Jeonghan’s ridiculous plan, you weren’t sure why you were attempting to follow through with it. You could so easily just text Seungcheol and tell him that your evening got far too busy, and you wouldn’t be able to help Jeonghan out with Matthew, but suddenly it felt important to you. 

Jeonghan had been doing a good job, for the most part, at keeping Matthew distracted from asking when you were going to come over, but every few minutes the question kept coming up. He knew there was a slight chance you might bail on them, but he had a good feeling you wouldn’t, so he simply told Matthew, “she’ll be here soon,” each time he asked. So when you knocked on the door, a little after 6:30, Matthew squealed in delight and beat Jeonghan to it by a mile. 

“Miss Y/N! I’m so excited. I have coloring pages and my trucks to show you. Can we paint?” 

Shaking your head, you run your fingers over Matthew’s head with a sigh as you listen to Jeonghan chuckle under his breath a few feet away. It was clear to see that the little boy had you wrapped around his little finger. You weren’t supposed to have a favorite student, and maybe that wasn’t even what was happening here, but you adored Matthew. Him and his gummy smile. 

“Maybe? I’m supposed to help with dinner. What did your Uncle Jeonghan have in mind?” 

Giving you a once over in your more casual clothes, Jeonghan nods in approval before gesturing towards the kitchen as if you didn’t already know where it was. 

“Luckily for me, Cheol is a great father. He left a note that says, 'stuff for pizza in the fridge’, so it looks like it’s pizza, Teach.” 

Rolling your eyes, you let Matthew hold on to your waist as you make your way into the kitchen and glance at the note in question. 

“And you can’t make pizza on your own?” 

“Uncle Jeonghan burneded my chicken nuggets last week. Can you make me pizza, Miss Y/N?” 

Letting out a breath, you meet Matthew’s eyes before looking back up at Jeonghan, who grimaces at the mention of the chicken nuggets. Maybe it was a good thing that you were here if this man couldn’t even be trusted with the most simple of foods. 

It didn’t take long for the three of you to get into a comfortable rhythm. You quickly took over things in the kitchen, leaving Jeonghan to entertain Matthew, which in turn kept him from being under your feet. It wasn’t until you were putting the homemade pizza into the oven that the evening started to calm down and you were able to really look around you and feel your heart tightening. You wanted this. Not with Jeonghan, though he was starting to grow on you as a friend, but you wanted to be around Matthew more and to help with him. 

Feeling your cell phone vibrate in your back pocket, you wipe your hands off on a dish towel and slip it from your pocket only for a smile to pull at the corner of your lips. 

Seungcheol: I owe you big time 

Glancing towards the living room, you press your lips together watching Matthew and Jeonghan sitting at the coffee table with crayons covering most of the surface. Now that feeling of wanting this more often was even stronger as you thought about Seungcheol, wishing he was here… even though that felt wrong on some level. You shouldn’t want something with a parent of one of your students… there had to be something wrong about that, or at least Alex was good at making you feel like there was. 

Y/N: Don’t say that yet. Pizza isn’t out of the oven yet. I might burn it just as bad as Jeonghan.

Grinning as he leans against the wall of the break room, Seungcheol allows himself a moment to just enjoy the idea of you in his apartment. He knew he would be there in a few more hours, but picturing you with Matthew seemed so domestic. Jeonghan was right, as much as Seungcheol hated to admit it… he wanted more with you than some fake relationship. 

“What are you smiling at like that? It’s creepy…” 

Scoffing at Joshua Hong’s teasing words, Seungcheol quickly replies to you before clearing his throat and sliding his phone back into his coat pocket. He had never been good at “acting casual,” and most of his friends knew that, so this time was no different. 

“Nothing, why are you? You know, being nosy? Don’t you have a patient in Five?” 

Joshua smirks as he watches Seungcheol scratch his neck. He could see that his friend was nervous and that, paired with the stupid, love-sick smile he had been wearing, could only mean one thing. 

“I just discharged that patient. Are you simping that hard over some girl? Choi Seungcheol, are you fucking someon–” 

Lifting his hands, Seungcheol is quick to let out a panicked sound in order to stop Joshua from continuing. It was bad enough that he had to deal with Jeonghan on almost a daily basis. Dealing with both Jeonghan and Joshua, now that was a nightmare. 

“Shut up. I—no. No, I’m not fuck—I’m not sleeping with anyone. You spend too much time with Jeonghan if you are talking like that.” 

Joshua had never known Seungcheol to be so proper and flustered before, and honestly, it was pretty amusing to see him sweat over something as simple as a girl. 

“Hannie and I enjoy our quality time; thank you very much. Get the stick out of your ass and tell me what’s going on, or I’ll just have to ask him. I’m sure he knows.” 

The idea of Jeonghan being able to explain his love life, or the lack thereof, to anyone but especially to Joshua was a terrifying and humiliating thought. Shaking his head, Seungcheol groans and reaches for Joshua’s arm, stopping him from leaving the break room as he glances towards the clock to see how much time he has left on his break before he explains from the beginning. 

Seungcheol: Well burnt or not, can’t wait to get home and have a slice. See you in about an hour?

You had stared at your phone and Seungcheol’s text for a bit longer than you had meant to. When Jeonghan pursed his lips and glanced over your shoulder to see what had your attention so enraptured, you gasped, pulling the phone to your chest. 

“Sorry, I said your name a couple times, but you were staring at your phone like it was a bomb. I had to make sure you didn’t need help with it.” 

Furrowing your brows, you clear your throat and put your phone face down on the counter, turning towards the oven and leaning to glance at the pizza through the window. You were avoiding the topic, but Jeonghan wasn’t the one to just give up. 

“You set a timer, didn’t you? Should come out right in time for us to eat. You know, Matthew, me, you, and Cheol.” 

Glancing over your shoulder, you narrow your eyes at Jeonghan and straighten to your full height so that you feel a bit less small in front of him. 

“I wasn’t going to stay for dinner.” 

Tilting his head, Jeonghan starts to speak when Matthew whines and the sound of his little feet hitting the wood floor draws your attention. You get ready to explain to him that you need to go, that you have so much you have to do before bedtime, but one look down at him and the pout on his face... all excuses die on your tongue. 

“Please don’t go! Eat pizza with me. You said maybe to playing with trucks.” 

You watch as tears start to gather in Matthew’s eyes and it almost breaks your heart. Even Jeonghan feels a pang of guilt knowing he had pushed a little too hard, and he finds himself hoping you’ll stay as he looks at Matthew, his small shoulders lifting to take a breath, trying to keep himself from crying. 

Squatting in front of Matthew, you run your fingers over his cheeks and offer him a smile, happy to see his lips pull up even slightly in return. It was easier to say no at school. You knew you had authority and there was more to say no to. Children would get into trouble more often if you gave in, but here, what would you lose if you said yes? What harm could it really cause? 

“I—I’ll stay for dinner. I made really good pizza. I would hate to miss out on it or your trucks.” 

Wrapping his arms around your neck, Matthew grins as he giggles. He had known a lot of sadness in his short life, but his father and those around him had worked hard to show him even more joy. This was more joy. There was something special about you, and it wasn’t just that you were his teacher or that he liked you so much; it was more that you felt so warm and made him wonder what his mommy would have been like. Not that he would tell you that, at least not tonight. 

Patting Matthew’s back, you glance up at Jeonghan as he purses his lips, the look on his face a mixture of apologetic and appreciative. It takes a moment before you are finally able to pull away from the boy and meet his eyes, seeing a bit of wetness on his cheeks, but that big smile on his face remains even as you wipe the tears away. 

“The pizza has to cook for a bit longer. Wanna show me what you and Uncle Jeonghan were working on?” 

Letting out a deep breath as he walks through the door, Seungcheol finds the stress of his day quickly replaced by fondness. He knew you had decided to stay for dinner, but seeing you in his living room with Matthew for himself was a different story. Now he couldn’t help the smile that played on his lips even as Jeonghan watched him carefully, studying him for what seemed like a full minute before Seungcheol finally moved further into the house. 

“Thought you were going to stand in the hall all damn night.” 

Scoffing at Jeonghan’s words, Seungcheol shakes his head before meeting your eyes trying not to lose himself in your soft smile. You are so beautiful and it was becoming impossible for him to pretend like he didn’t like you, and that he didn’t want to see what this could be without some silly stipulations to your relationship. 

“How’s the evening been so far? Don’t I get a hug?” 

While his words were meant for Matthew, you still pressed your lips together feeling a slight urge to stand up and move into Seungcheol’s arms too. He looked incredible, even as tired as he was. You were having a hard time not staring at him, and Jeonghan was taking notes. 

“I think the uh—the pizza is cool enough to eat. So you have good timing.” 

Nodding to your words, Seungcheol squats down to hug Matthew. You watch fondly as he rocks the small boy back and forth a few times, causing him to let out a delighted sound before Seungcheol stands and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Awesome, thank you again for helping, Y/N. I’ll… uh get changed and meet you guys at the table.” 

Swallowing hard, you nod as your eyes follow Seungcheol through the room until he is out of your line of sight. A small chuckle to your right pulls your attention back to the present and to Jeonghan, who simply lifts his brows and pats Matthew’s back, ushering him towards the dining room. 

“Pizza time, buddy. Too much ogling is going on in this room for my stomach to handle.”

Looking up at Jeonghan, Matthew tilts his head as he walks beside him, a look of confusion on his cute face. 

“What’s ohgling?” 

With a groan, you drop your head into your hands for a split second before moving to your feet and following along with the two just in time to hear Jeonghan explain how to say the word properly and that it means to look at someone for a long time because you like them. At least he had kept it PG.

“Can Miss Y/N tuck me in tonight?”

Matthew’s words make you stop what you are doing mid-bite. Jeonghan’s smirk only grows as Seungcheol tilts his head, looking at his son and over to you as you give both of them a deer stuck in headlights look. The evening had gotten exponentially more interesting since Seungcheol had gotten home. You two weren’t fooling anyone, at least as far as Jeonghan was concerned, and this was the cherry on top. 

“I–well… That’s up to Miss Y/N.” 

Meeting your eyes, Seungcheol looks a bit worried that you might say no. He wouldn’t fault you if you did, but he hated the idea of his son being disappointed. You could see the look and it was so very similar to the look in Matthew’s eye that your stomach was in your throat. Why were these two so impossible for you to refuse? 

“I don’t mind.” 

Clapping his hands together, Jeonghan gives you both a wide smile before pushing his chair back from the table and wiping at his lips. 

“Great, now that’s settled, means I can get headed home. Thank you for the lovely dinner, Y/N. Please invite me again.” 

Following Jeonghan, Seungcheol gives you an apologetic look as you start to speak but can’t seem to find the right words to defend yourself. While you had grown used to his teasing over the past few hours, it didn’t make it any easier to handle in front of Seungcheol and Matthew. You could feel heat rising in your neck and face as you turned your attention back towards Matthew as he grabbed your hand and tried to tug you out of your seat. 

“Come on! I gotta show you my room and my trucks. Daddy says they are the most coolest.” 

You were lucky to have such a sweet distraction, just two of your fingers in his small hand as Matthew led you down the hall and away from the embarrassment of Yoon Jeonghan’s words. After watching you and Matthew for a moment, Seungcheol then glances back at his best friend as he slips his shoes on and offers him a triumphant smile. In his mind, clearly, he had managed to play matchmaker well if you were staying longer than he was. He could almost hear the wedding bells in the back of his mind, but the look on Seungcheol’s face was one of doubt, which always leads to delays. 

“You’re welcome. Get that stupid look off your face and seal the deal.” 

Scoffing, Seungcheol double checks that you can’t hear either of them before he meets Jeonghan’s eyes once more. 

“Would you shut the hell up? I–we don’t know what’s going to happen. She was doing me a favor because you trapped her in a moment—” 

“No, she came over because she wanted to. She could have canceled and she could have left hours ago, Cheol. She wants to be here and she wants to be here with you. You weren’t here to see her schoolgirl crush smiling at her phone every time you sent a message.” 

Pressing his lips together while learning about the couple of hours before he had gotten home, Seungcheol couldn't stop how the corners of his lips started to turn up. He wanted to see that smile. He loved your smile. He loved how you made Matthew smile. God, he was falling for you and it was that hard sort of falling that people warned you about. 

“Really?” 

Shaking his head, Jeonghan reaches over to pat Seungcheol’s bicep as he rolls his eyes at his friend’s reaction. You were the school girl and here was your school boy. It was a match made in heaven, and it was nauseating to be around. 

“Really, Casanova. Don’t let her slip through your fingers because you’re a pussy.” 

Seungcheol groans, his smile falling at Jeonghan’s wording. Why did he have to be so crass? No, he wasn’t some church going perfect angel himself, but at least he didn’t go around calling people a pussy. 

“Get out, seriously. If Matthew starts saying shit like that, I’m personally making you pay for his therapy sessions.” 

Getting one last cheeky grin from Jeonghan, Seungcheol closes the door and makes his way back towards your soft voice. It was getting late and being a school night, it was around the time he would normally get Matthew ready for bed. He almost hated the idea of that tonight. He knew that Matthew wanted you to tuck him in, but what would that mean afterwards? Would you have leave right way? Could he talk you into staying for a glass of wine? It was a school night for you too…

“No, that truck was my favorite too. Get your teeth in the back too.” 

Surprised to hear you and Matthew in the bathroom, Seungcheol tilts his head and leans against the wall, watching you smile at his son. It was surreal to see something like this. He had always wanted this for Matthew—and, if he could be selfish, for himself. 

This wasn’t something he had gotten much of from his wife before her accident. She didn’t get to help him put Matthew to bed once he was old enough to remember her. While Seungcheol would always regret that, he found himself allowing himself a bit of time to relish Matthew’s little piece of normality with you. 

“Good! Big smile.” 

You laugh, your heart full and warm, as Matthew shows you his clean teeth. This was dangerous. You were so in love with this family. You could see yourself doing this every single night and never getting tired of it. There was something about Matthew and Seungcheol that made your life feel complete and that was terrifying in ways that you couldn’t even explain to yourself. 

“One of my favorite smiles. Time to change? Then I can come tuck you in.” 

Turning to follow Matthew, you stop short, seeing Seungcheol watching you from the hall. You get hit with a sudden rush of anxiety, wondering if you have overstepped, but the smile and look on his face tell you that you haven’t. You watch his fingers glide through Matthew’s hair before he glances back at him, telling him not to bring trucks into his bed, before he looks at you and takes your breath away with a smile. 

“You’re a natural.” 

Shyly, you shake your head and move towards him and Matthew’s bedroom, stopping just outside to give the boy time to change. 

“Just teacher things, I guess.” 

Seungcheol shakes his head and fights his urge to reach out and pull you towards him. You were standing too far away from him and with how he was feeling, all he wanted to do was pull you into his arms and do exactly what Jeonghan had told him to do. Why was he dancing around this? You were everything he had been wanting and not even the fear of the unknown was enough to keep him from taking that leap. 

Starting to speak, Seungcheol watches you take a deep breath when Matthew’s small voice makes him stop before he even gets started. You instead watch as he smiles and rubs the back of his neck, gesturing for you to go ahead. Biting at your lip, you nod and give him a small glance as you pass by, only for your breath to get caught in your throat when Seungcheol’s fingers trail over your fingers just before you cross over the threshold into the bedroom. 

“Go ahead; I’ll say goodnight once he’s tucked in. Something tells me he might get upset if I try to interrupt.” 

One last look towards Seungcheol, and you move into Matthew’s room and sit on the side of his bed as he grins up at you. Your stomach was doing flips as butterflies held a rave inside of you, but with a deep breath, you managed to keep your cool and tuck the covers around Matthew. 

“How’s that? Too tight?” 

Shaking his head, Matthew wiggles under the covers to show you that he can still move easily as you run your fingers over the top of his head, feeling his eyes move over your face. 

“Okay, good. Sleep well and I’ll see you at school in the morning.” 

“Mmkay, Miss Y/N.” 

You smile at his tired words, starting to stand when Matthew whines and you stay right where you are, giving him a concerned look at the sudden change. 

“Can I have a hug for bedtime?” 

You knew you would say no. Sure, it would make Matthew sad and, in turn, make you sad, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much as what you chose to do. Instead of saying no, you nodded and leaned down to let him wrap his arms around your neck and hold you close to him as he whispered his thanks for the day and told you goodnight. You could feel the tears rising in your eyes even as you willed them to stay back. 

“It’s my pleasure, Matthew. Tha–thank you for hanging out with me. Sleep tight…” 

Seungcheol had to take a deep breath while watching his son cling to you like a safety net. It almost broke his heart to watch you sit up, but then you ran your fingers over Matthew’s face and whispered goodnight and Seungcheol could have sworn he saw tears in your eyes. Was that a good sign or a bad one? 

Sliding past Seungcheol, you sniff softly but smile at him as you let him move into the room. You find yourself wanting to watch as he finishes up the bedtime routine, but your heart won’t let you. The tears on your cheeks tell you that you need to run out of this apartment as fast as you can, but you wait, feeling the need to say your goodbyes to Seungcheol. 

The soft click of the door shutting draws your attention back towards Matthew’s room and Seungcheol as you wipe your cheeks quickly and put your smile back on your face. You didn’t hate what you were feeling; it just terrified you to no end. You had never pictured a family with Alex; no matter how many times he had brought up what a fantastic mother you were going to be to his children, it wasn’t something that you could see. Looking at Seungcheol, you could picture that future and you weren’t even in a real relationship with him. What did that say about you?

“Hey, thanks for doing that. He’s already out like a light. I never get him down that easy.”

You only manage to hum into a small smile at Seungcheol’s words as he moves closer to you,  his presence making it harder for you to choose if you want to stay or run. 

“It’s no biggie. He’s a great kid.” 

Nodding, Seungcheol opens and closes his hand a few times before taking the leap and reaching out to wrap his fingers around yours, feeling your hand shake in his. Maybe you were just as nervous as he was? Maybe you could already see where this was going? Maybe, just maybe, you wanted it too. 

“He is… But, um, could I say something? Not about Matthew and you hear me out?” 

Those butterflies had taken something strong at their rave and you felt like you were going to be sick with nerves. Your head was woozy even as you nodded to answer Seungcheol, unable to find the right words. Swallowing hard, he sighs into a small laugh before reaching up to scratch at his brow with his free hand, keeping yours in his other. 

“I–okay, I’m just gonna say it, alright? I love having you around. I really like this, you know? Us. So I was thinkin’ if you aren’t busy, maybe we could get dinner this weekend? Just the two of us?” 

Letting out a breath, you pull your fingers back and smile at Seungcheol, trying to think straight, but nothing in your head makes sense. You were panicking. The look on Seungcheol’s face told you that he could see you were panicking as you took a step back from him and literally looked for your escape route. 

“It is so late. I have work in the morning, but you know that. Thank you so much for dinner. I mean, you know what I mean.”

Following you, Seungcheol runs his fingers through his hair, feeling panic start to roll through him as you pretend that he hadn’t just confessed to you and asked you out. Was he that bad of a choice? Or was this about something else? Were you afraid too?

“Y/N? What? Wait, no, I know you have work. Shit… wait. I didn’t mean to—” 

Turning to face him as you reach the door, you can’t stop the tears that run down your cheeks. The same tears seem to resonate with Seungcheol and stop him from giving you his reasoning. All he finds himself wanting to do is hold you and make it better, but that fear of pushing you away is stronger than ever as you wipe at your cheeks and apologize under your breath, pulling your shoes on. 

“I will talk to you later, okay? Just… I can’t do this right now.” 

Seungcheol knew he should say something else, do something to stop you from leaving until more was said and understood, but all he could do was watch as his door shut and leave him in silence. His heart beating hard in his chest, the pang of rejection and confusion rips through Seungcheol as he turns away from where you had been standing and moves to the couch to sit down and rest his head in his hands. 

Inside your apartment, you let your tears fall freely. You didn’t want to disappoint Seungcheol, but the first thing you saw when he said those words to you was Matthew’s disappointed face. That’s the face you would have to see if the relationship didn’t work out. That's who you’d be hurting. It wouldn’t just be your heart or even Seungcheol’s heart on the line; it would be that child’s heart. 

So now you sat on your kitchen floor, your heart feeling shattered as you forced yourself to stick to what you had decided instead of running back over to Seungcheol’s apartment and telling him that you felt the same way. Sometimes people don’t get what they want just because they want it. Sometimes they have to give up what they want for the benefit of others.

Seungcheol was nervous as he stood in the doorway to your classroom. He knew he was early and that Matthew wasn’t particularly happy with him because he would be the first student at school, but he needed to talk to you. The way things had ended the night before was eating at him. 

Ushering Matthew into the room, Seungcheol watches as his son runs over to you. He feels his heart tighten as small arms wrap around your waist and he wants to do the same thing. The confusion and surprise on your face are enough to make the thoughts move from Seungcheol’s mind as he smiles at you and lifts Matthew’s bag, walking towards the cubbies. 

“You—you’re early. The others won’t be here for probably half an hour.” 

Wincing at your words as he hangs Matthew’s bag up, Seungcheol considers lying. He thinks about telling you that he just has to get to work early—that’s the only reason he’s bringing Matthew in so early—but the look in your eye tells him that he should just tell you the truth. 

"I—yeah, I know. I just… Could I talk to you for a second?” 

Glancing towards Matthew, you sigh as he moves away from you both towards the building block area to play. Crossing your arms, you gesture back towards the door and the cubbies to give even more space between yourself and Seungcheol from the boy so he can’t hear. 

“I’m not sure there’s a lot to talk—”

“I know… I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt you, Y/N. But please? Can I just say this? I didn’t really get to finish what I wanted to say.” 

You furrow your brow, glancing down at your fingers on your forearm as you nod. This conversation was already too difficult. Seungcheol felt too close, but glancing off to the side towards Matthew as he stacks up blocks, counting them quietly under his breath, makes you take in a deep breath as you listen to what he has to say. 

“Okay, can’t we just try it? This seems to work great. I mean, at least it does to me. All I asked for was dinner. I like you, Y/N. Like, really, really like you.” 

Tilting his head as he stops walking in the hallway, Alex narrows his eyes, listening to the conversation in your classroom. He had wanted to see you before school started, before your students arrived, but clearly someone had beat him. As he listened closer to the voice of the man, he recognized it, Seungcheol, your boyfriend. Why would he need to tell you how much he liked you? 

Shaking your head, you lift your fingers to quickly wipe at your cheeks, feeling moisture under your eyes as you take a deep breath. This isn't about what you wanted or what Seungcheol wanted. That had become obvious to you last night. You couldn’t and wouldn’t risk breaking Matthew’s heart and ruining something good in his life. You couldn’t be more than his teacher. Even being his friend was putting too much pressure on him. Everything could come crashing down and it wouldn’t be you or Seungcheol who would suffer the most; it would be Matthew. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I should have had more guts to just—” Stopping to let out an unamused laugh, you meet Seungcheol’s eyes as he gives you a confused, sad look. “I’m so sorry, Seungcheol. We need to stop this. No more pretending. It’s not good for us and it’s worse for Matthew.” 

Pretending. The word causes Seungcheol’s heart to feel like it’s breaking and it causes Alex to scoff. You had been pretending to date Seungcheol. Shaking his head, Alex smirks as he turns back towards his own classroom, running his fingers through his hair, leaving you to finish your breakup with your fake boyfriend. He could always talk to you later. 

“I—Y/N…please. Why do you think that this is going to hurt anyone? I don’t ever want to hurt you and I certainly wouldn’t hurt my son.” 

Biting at your lips, you furrow your brows and take a step back from Seungcheol as his voice cracks. You could hear other people in the halls now; this conversation had to end. 

“Have a good day, Dr. Choi.” 

With his mouth falling open in confusion and hurt, Seungcheol closes his eyes at your words before nodding. He could hear the sound of the other children in the halls too. He knew he couldn’t force you to talk about this or to come out of your shell, even if he could obviously see you were holding back something. 

You turn from him as Seungcheol moves back into the classroom to lean over Matthew, kissing him on top of the head and whispering his goodbye before glancing at you once more. Without another word, he leaves the room and you feel like you are standing in the ocean as a wave of pain washes over you. 

The day is longer than any other that you can remember. You avoid Seungcheol’s eyes as he picks up Matthew, even as the little boy grabs at your hand, asking you to come back over for dinner. When Seungcheol tells him that tonight isn’t a good night, you hold back your tears as you listen to Matthew’s small, sad voice asking why. 

That was why this wasn’t going to work. You were so good at disappointing people. That was what your degree hanging on the wall should be in. A PhD in Disappointment. 

Walking through your now empty room, you let the silence wash over you as you picked up books and toys, not hearing the door open. You don’t hear footsteps approaching you until Alex’s voice pulls you out of your haze and brings you back to reality. 

“You didn’t have to be so pathetic and pretend to have a boyfriend, babe. Seriously? I don’t need to be jealous to want you back in my life. I’ll take you back, Y/N. You don’t have to put on a brave face.” 

Alex’s words bite at your self esteem and your confidence. Keeping your back to him for a moment longer, you fight back your tears, realizing he had to have heard your conversation with Seungcheol at the beginning of the day. You want to be angry and embarrassed, but instead you are relieved. There is no longer a secret hanging over your head, no need to pretend or worry about some big reveal as the panic slowly fades from your body. 

All you are left with, once the anxiety is gone, is disgust. You try to quickly picture a time when you were in love with Alex. You try to imagine wanting a full and long life with him after hearing him say such hateful and degrading things to you, but you can’t. All you can feel is hate and pity. The pity isn’t even for yourself; instead, you feel an overwhelming pity for the man who once made you laugh before he made you cry. 

Turning to face Alex, you meet his eyes as he smirks at you, the smug look on his face looking more like a mask than something real. He wants to play the villain so badly and you could play the victim and let him have it, but instead you just sigh and nod. 

“Thank you, Alex.” 

Starting to speak, Alex looks surprised and hopeful before you lift your hand and stop him as you continue to speak. 

“Thank you for reminding me why I will never allow you in my life again. I never want to see you again. Someone who would say something like that to me... well, it should be obvious if you ever loved me why I couldn’t and wouldn’t want you near me. Please get the fuck out of my classroom and my life.” 

Your voice is even, a bit of emotion laced in it, but you aren’t hysterical like Alex had imagined or perhaps wanted. You are instead mostly calm and collected and your words stab him in the gut like the final nail in the coffin of any chance at a relationship that he had imagined. 

Taking a step backwards, Alex tries to speak—to come up with some excuse for his actions, but you were right. As he thinks back on the person that he had been and the person that he has become, guilt bites at him, making it harder to defend himself. 

You watch as he shakes his head, muttering something so low that you can’t hear it before he moves out of the room and your door shuts, leaving you once again in that empty silence. 

Closing your eyes, you are back in that ocean as waves crash over you. Tears stream down your face and you recognize the pain as heartbreak. Heartbreak from the final mourning period of a relationship and the impossibility of another. Another wave knocks you back and you let out a sob, your hand on your stomach. More loss, but mixed with relief. 

You feel the loss of a possibility for your own family. You had seen yourself with Seungcheol and Matthew, but that was possible. The relief was from letting go, or attempting to. It was also a loss of the weight that had been on your shoulders from the very moment that you had lied to Alex. 

You just wish that it had never been a lie.

Despite many pep talks from Jeonghan, Seungcheol couldn’t make himself knock on your door. He had seen you around the apartment complex during spring break, but you were avoiding him. Worst of all, you seem to be avoiding Matthew. 

He didn’t really blame you. After what you had told him, it made sense. You were scared, but so was he. He had been terrified from the moment he realized his feelings for you, but he had taken the leap and ended up falling short. 

Any other time, Seungcheol would have given up. He would have stopped looking for that person and tried to push them out of his life, so why couldn’t he do that with you? Why would he lay in bed every single night and picture you in yours, just an apartment over? Why would he look at his phone and pray that you would text him? Why couldn’t he just get some guts and text you himself? 

He had decided that after spring break, the first day of school, he would try his best. At school, it wasn’t like you couldn’t talk to him. You had to talk to parents, and you had to talk to your students. Matthew was excited about seeing you again; this would be the perfect time. It would have been perfect if, when Seungcheol had come through the door, there wasn’t a completely different person standing at the front of the classroom. 

 “Daddy…” 

The whine in Matthew’s voice almost broke Seungcheol’s heart. Running his hand over Matthew’s hair, Seungcheol offers the woman a smile and tilts his head as he walks towards her as she looks down at her clipboard. 

“Hi. Uh, Matthew Choi… I’m Seungcheol, his father.” 

Smiling at the boy and at Seungcheol, the woman finds Matthew’s name and places a check next to it before sighing. 

“So prompt, I value responsibility. Hello, I’m Mrs. Lim.” 

Shaking the woman’s hand, Seungcheol tries to keep his smile, but he knows it’s strained as he glances around the room, realizing how much of the room has changed. The posters were different. The books were in a different place. This wasn’t your classroom anymore. 

“It’s really nice to meet you. I’m so sorry, but where is Miss Y/N?”

Swallowing hard, Mrs. Lim nods at the question before putting her clipboard to her chest and taking a deep breath, knowing she would be handling this question many times today. 

“The school was supposed to send out a letter, but perhaps not everyone got them in time. Miss Y/N accepted a job in another district. I hope that I can fill her shoes here…” 

Feeling like a truck had run him over, Seungcheol just nodded as Matthew looked up at him, confused. A small hand tugs at his jacket and Seungcheol nods once again before glancing down at his son, trying to smile at him even as Matthew frowns. 

“Uh, Miss Y/N is teaching other kids, buddy.” 

“No! Daddy!” 

Hearing his son cry was one of the most painful things that Seungcheol could experience. He knew it wouldn’t be the last time, and it hadn’t been the first by a long shot, but there was so much heartbreak in his sobs. Moving to his knees in front of Matthew, Seungcheol controls his own emotions as he wipes tears away and shushes the little boy to calm him down. 

“It’s okay. Mrs. Lim seems so nice and I’m sure you two will get along.” 

Pulling back from Seungcheol, Matthew sniffs hard, talking between sobs as big tears roll down his cheeks, meeting his dad’s fingers.

“Did I make Miss Y/N mad at me?”

Shaking his head quickly, Seungcheol pulls Matthew into his arms and closes his eyes, having an even harder time keeping himself in check. He was upset with you for not telling him, but he was even more upset with the fact that you felt like you had to leave. 

“Absolutely not. Miss Y/N adores you.” 

It takes a few more minutes before Matthew is calm enough that Seungcheol feels comfortable leaving. After apologizing to Mrs. Lim for the small outburst on behalf of his son, Seungcheol moves out into the hall and leans against the wall to catch his breath. 

Running his fingers through his hair, he shakes his head and sniffs back his own tears that had threatened to fall when he hears a familiar voice. Glancing to his left, all Seungcheol sees is red. His feet moving quicker than his brain, Seungcheol pushes his forearm against Alex’s chest as the man’s back hits the wall with a dull thud. Only the sound of a gasp from another teacher is heard over Alex’s grunt before he tells the woman it’s fine. 

“It’s not fine... what the fuck did you do? What did you do that made her leave?”

Scoffing through a bit of pain, Alex meets Seungcheol’s eyes and there is pain and hurt in both. The hurt in Alex’s eyes only serves to piss off Seungcheol more as he pushes harder against the man’s body, feeling his hand grasp at his wrist. 

“I—get off me. I don’t have to tell the fake boyfriend anything.”

Leaning back only to push against Alex harder so that his head hits the wall, Seungcheol watches the man’s mouth fall open in pain as he hears the sound of the security guard moving towards them. Taking a step back, he holds up his hands, showing them he’s done before he grabs him. 

“You don’t know anything about Y/N and you don’t know a damn thing about me and her.” Pointing towards Alex as the guard puts his hand around his forearm, Seungcheol scoffs, keeping his ground. “Stay away from Y/N and if you ever touch Matthew again, I won’t need to file a report with the school. You got it?” 

Rubbing the back of his head, Alex winces and narrows his eyes at Seungcheol. It had all been grounds for him to let them drag Seungcheol out of the school until his kid was mentioned. Now Alex needed to save face. No, nothing had happened, but he had crossed the line multiple times with you and by approaching a student that wasn’t his, he had already been warned by the administration. 

“Let him go. Everything is fine. Just a misunderstanding. We are fine… We understand one another, I can promise you that.” 

Feeling the hand on his arm relax, Seungcheol scoffs at how quick Alex’s mood shifts. He was pathetic and he could understand why you wanted nothing to do with him. Giving the man one more look of contempt, Seungcheol shakes his head and moves for the main doors, letting them slam behind him. 

Rolling your head from side to side, you rub your neck as you let out a soft sigh. You were tired after a long day and a longer commute than you were used to at your new school. The students were great but they weren’t the same. The entire day, you found yourself missing your students, as you had to check name tags to remember who you were speaking to. 

It would just take some getting used to. This was the best decision. It was easier for everyone to do it this way. It didn’t matter that you looked for Matthew in the circle of children on the reading rug only to be disappointed when you couldn’t find his sweet gummy smile and his kind eyes looking back up at you. Your heart would heal. 

Taking your keys out of your purse as the elevator stops on your floor, you keep your eyes down until you are almost at your door. Seeing shoes on your welcome mat facing you makes you stop in your tracks and causes your eyes to slowly lift to meet Seungcheol’s as he rests against your door with a frown on his face. 

You had done such a good job of avoiding him and Matthew. Sure, there had been a few times you had found yourself turning on your toes and heading in the other direction, but you had done that to make things easier for everyone. Looking at Seungcheol now, making eye contact with him, you knew there was no running away. 

“Um… Hey.” 

Seungcheol had hoped for more after not talking to you for so long, but he would take what he could get. He knew he was putting you on the spot; clearly, there was no other way to get you to talk to him. 

“Hey. So, I, uh, I took Matthew to school this morning and needless to say, we were both a little shocked and—fuck, I won’t even lie, we were heartbroken when you weren’t there. You quit?” 

Taking a deep breath, you look at your keys in your hand as Seungcheol speaks. Learning that he and Matthew were hurt by your absence makes your stomach feel queasy, but you try to stand your ground and keep yourself somewhat stoic as you nod. 

“Sorry, I got an offer about an hour away and I felt that I should take it. Ya know, it’s better—”

“For who?” 

Being interrupted by Seungcheol, you meet his eyes once again and let out a breath through your nose before looking off to the side. You didn’t want to look him in the eye and try to explain—or lie about this. It was hard enough trying to convince yourself every day in the mirror. 

“For everyone, Seungcheol. I can’t work there anymore. I didn’t want to ruin things for Matthew or you. I couldn’t be around Alex anymore.” 

Stepping away from the door, taking a step towards you, Seungcheol reaches out to take your wrist into his hand, trying to get you to actually look at him. When you don’t instantly pull away, he lowers his head and leans to the right to make you meet his eyes as he speaks. The wet glaze over his eyes makes you feel like your heart is breaking all over again as your bottom lip quivers until you bite at it to force it to stop, once again forcing back any emotions that threaten to bubble to the surface. 

“Matthew isn’t happy without you, Y/N. Why in the hell would you think that he would be? He’s depressed without you at school and without you in his life. I don’t understand why you think he’d be better off without you around.” 

Sighing loudly, Seungcheol’s eyes drop to your bitten lip as you try to keep your tears back. He can see them on the rims of your eyes and he knows that you understand, even if you won’t say it. 

“My son loves you. Don’t you get that? I lov—fuck… I need you in my life, Y/N. When I found out about you quitting I saw Alex and I confronted him. I told him to stay the fuck away from you, away from us.” 

Shaking your head, you pull your arm from Seungcheol’s, feeling his fingers chase after yours as he whines your name under his breath. You can hear and feel the desperation behind his voice and it makes you want to make it better, but you don’t think he even understands what he’s saying to you or what he’s done. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Seungcheol. There’s no point. It was wrong of me to put myself into your life and into Matthew’s life. This is what I do. Don’t you get that? I disappoint people. Please let me—let me go. You don’t get it.” 

Frustration rises in Seungcheol as you speak and as he watches your tears run down your cheeks. You were the one who didn’t get it. You thought this was just pretty words and a dream but to him, it was so much more. You were so much more. 

Sliding his hand along your cheek to push away your tears, Seungcheol whispers your name as you let out a soft sob. Wanting to make you see what he feels, he cups your face in his palm and brushes his lips against yours, feeling you stiffen in his grasp for only a second before you relax. His kiss not only stuns you but it also takes your breath away. Your tears flow even more freely as Seungcheol’s fingers brush at your skin and his lips move over yours until he finally pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. 

“Do you understand now?” 

Wrapping your fingers around Seungcheol’s wrist, you sniff back tears as you lean your head back from his and shake your head. 

“It won’t work, Seungcheol.” 

Walking you towards the wall, Seungcheol shakes his head in return before leaning to kiss your cheek and tasting your tears on his lips. 

"Yes, it will. It has to. I want it to… so fucking bad, baby. You feel like my missing piece. Y/N, you’re my somebody. Let me prove it to you.”

Seungcheol cups your face with both of his hands as you push your front door closed, letting him once again walk you backwards until your back is flush against the wall. The only difference this time is that it’s your lips that meet his first. You feel his fingers slide along the side of your head as he deepens the kiss, his tongue gliding into your mouth to mesh with your tongue before he groans, feeling your fingers grasp at his sides over his t-shirt. 

This was everything Seungcheol had pictured for days, if not weeks, after being around you. He had wanted to kiss you that night when the two of you had shared wine on his couch. He had wanted to ask you to stay the night after dinner so that he could make love to you, and now he had you in his hands. 

Sliding one hand along your neck, Seungcheol breaks the kiss long enough to meet your eyes, checking for any hesitation as his other hand moves to your hips and tugs them flush with his own. The only look in your eyes is one of desperation and desire. He wasn’t the only one who had wanted this, he had just been better at admitting it to himself than you had. Now that it was real and in front of you, your brain was in a frenzy. 

“You’re so beautiful—so fucking beautiful. Wanted this… God, I’ve wanted it since I laid eyes on you. Wanna make you mine.” 

Seungcheol’s hand moves back to your face, resting on your jaw so that his thumb can brush over your bottom lip, tugging it down as you whimper. There truly was nothing better than this. No art in any museum could compare to you. No artist would ever capture that look in your eyes, the bitten look of your lips, or the desire that was burning in you for Seungcheol. 

“Please? Please, Cheol…” 

Nodding, Seungcheol groans under his breath as you beg him to do what he wants. Glancing away from you, he gestures towards the hall in hopes that his guess of the layout of your apartment wasn’t too far off. 

“Yeah, second door.” 

Smiling at your pretty voice, Seungcheol leans down to capture your lips once again as his hands move from your face and hips to wrap around your thighs right under your ass. Feeling your arms wrap around his neck in surprise, he grins on your lips and lifts you with little effort, even as you gasp. 

“Seungcheol, oh my god, I can walk.” 

Clinging to Seungcheol, you watch as he shakes his head, walking you towards your bedroom. His strong hands are under you, holding you close to his body with each step. 

“What’s the fun in that, baby? Let me have this, okay?” 

Stepping into your room, Seungcheol only glances around for a second before his lips are back on yours and he takes another step towards your bed, only to sit down, allowing you to rest on his lap. Your cheeks were hot with how flustered you felt, not only about being carried to your room but about how you could already feel Seungcheol’s cock between your legs. Letting out a shaky breath on his lips, you hold onto Seungcheol’s shoulders as you give into your desire and rest your knees on either side of his legs. Rolling your hips over the bulge in his jeans and earning you a deep groan from his throat, Seungcheol leans his head back and presses his fingers into the swell of your ass through your pants. 

“Shit… that—that feels so good. It’s been a long time for me, Y/N.” 

Nodding, you slide your fingers from Seungcheol’s shoulder along his neck and up to his face to tilt it back towards you so you can meet his eyes as you roll your hips over him once again. You feel your own arousal beginning to soak through your panties, causing them to stick to your folds, a soft whine slipping from between your lips as your brows furrow. 

“That’s okay. It’s been a while for me too, Cheol.” 

It might be selfish of him, but Seungcheol thinks at that moment that if he had his way, he might be your last. He would be all you’d ever need. You’d never want to look for anyone else. All he needed to do was prove that to you. 

Smiling into a soft groan, he groans as his brows furrow, feeling your fingernails press into his shoulders over his shirt. Seungcheol leans his head back and your lips against his throat has his eyes closing and his fingers tightening on your hips, pulling you down over his lap. Sliding his hands upwards, Seungcheol whispers your name as your lips move along his jaw and his head almost becomes cloudy with thoughts of putting your back on the bed and having his way with you. 

“Y/N… fuck. I need to see you. Can I? Can I see you?” 

Nodding, you lean back from him, letting his fingers work up your sides, pushing your shirt up as he goes. Brown eyes take in every new inch of skin exposed to him as Seungcheol furrows his brows and whispers out soft praises for you. He tells you how beautiful you are, how perfect you are, and how much he cares about you, all before pulling your shirt up and over your head and tossing it behind you into the floor. 

Your cheeks burn at his attention as Seungcheol smiles at you, his fingers once again on your body. You can’t help the way that you gasp and shift in his lap as his fingers walk along your flesh, leaving goosebumps behind his path. 

Shifting your shoulders forward, you feel your bra straps fall down your arms when Seungcheol’s fingers work the clasps open at the middle of your back. The garment gives way and you feel warm breath fanning across your skin before soft plush kisses move from your shoulder to the center of your chest. 

Letting your bra fall into your lap, you slide your fingers into Seungcheol’s hair as his name slips from between your lips like a prayer or a hymn. You didn’t have much doubt that he would have been good at this, but it was still surprising at how much attention he was giving you and how he was taking his time—even if you wanted more and more quickly. 

Tugging at his hair, you whine almost in frustration as you feel his lips brush over your nipple, only for Seungcheol to pull away and place a kiss in the same place on your other breast. You were so aroused—so wet—that you felt like you could cum untouched on his lap, but every single teasing touch kept you right on the edge. 

“Cheol… please? I need more… Give me more.” 

He wanted to give you more. He wanted to see more, but tasting your skin was like tasting sugar for the first time. The salt in your skin was addictive. The smell of your body wash, the perfume that you used... even the laundry detergent that you chose was like the perfect mix to keep him dazed. It’s only your voice that brings him back to the present and reminds him what he’s supposed to do. 

Standing with you secure in his arms, Seungcheol quickly turns to lay you on your bed so he can hover over you. The feeling is instantly different. You had known that he was a large man and that he worked hard in the gym, but having him on top of you like this made it even more obvious how small you were compared to him. 

Letting his eyes move over your face for a moment as your eyes widen, Seungcheol smirks slightly, trailing his fingers along your stomach to the clasp of your jeans. Working them open, he watches you bite your bottom lip and all he can think is how he wants to do that for you, how he’d do anything for you if you asked him to. It could be in this bed or the most simple domestic task and he would make it happen. 

When Seungcheol’s palm presses to your abdomen and his fingers work their way into your jeans past your panties, you can’t help the small, surprised gasp that escapes from behind your lips. Your hips lift and Seungcheol’s middle finger barely presses between your folds, brushing over your clit, and it’s almost enough to make you want to scream his name. 

You didn’t remember being this easy to please, but perhaps it wasn’t even that… no, perhaps it was Seungcheol touching you. Maybe it was his fingers sliding against your wet folds and parting them so that he can circle your entrance with that same middle finger. It was because this time you were with the man you had spent hours trying to avoid picturing spending your life with and now he was groaning your name, feeling your slick arousal coating his fingers for the first time. 

“Baby, oh my god, Y/N.” Seungcheol feels his mouth water as he feels his fingers slipping through your soft, wet folds. He just shakes his head as he tries to angle his hand in your tight jeans to press his finger into you, only to whine in frustration when he can’t. “Gotta get these off. Wanna taste you… gotta open you up, baby girl.” 

Smiling as you run your fingers through Seungcheol’s hair, hearing him whine, you lower your eyes to his hands as he tugs at your jeans, working them down your legs. There was this amazing juxtaposition when it came to him. You had just felt so small under him and now you were listening to him whine and talk with a pout on his lips as he tried to pull your pants off while still talking to you with such a dirty mouth. 

Grinning to himself as he drops your jeans on the floor next to the bed, Seungcheol glances up at you before he wraps his arms under your thighs and scoots you up in the bed suddenly. Gasping his name, you grab at his shirt out of surprise, feeling it pull up his body as he meets your eyes again with a raised brow. 

“Can’t have you falling off the bed. Do you want my shirt? You can have it, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes follow Seungcheol’s hand as he reaches over his shoulder to tug at his shirt, pulling it up over his head with one swift movement. There were many ways to remove a shirt but that had to be the sexiest way you had ever seen. Trying to push your thighs together, you find you can’t as Seungcheol’s knee rests between them, drawing his eyes down to your legs as he hands you his shirt. 

“Fuck… look at you.” 

Hissing out a moan, you clench your fingers around Seungcheol’s shirt and lift your hips when he pushes his thumb against the center of your panties, where the cloth was sticking to your skin. This wasn’t what you meant by giving you more, but any complaints can’t make it out of your mouth as Seungcheol smirks at you, one hand resting on the bed next to your hip and the other staying between your legs. 

Brushing his knuckles over your wet panties, he lets out a breath before pulling them to the side and letting out a deep groan at the sight. He knew you were wet. He had felt it on his fingers and it was easy to see even through your panties, but seeing your glistening skin was another thing entirely. 

“So pretty… you’re so wet, baby girl. Is it uncomfortable?”��

Nodding, you close your eyes tightly, feeling tears threatening to spill over the rims of your eyes from just anticipation. 

“Yes, Cheol…” 

A soft, sweet, faux cooing sound slips from his lips before Seungcheol lowers himself down between your legs to run his tongue over your soft folds. Grunting to the taste, he furrows his brows and wraps his fingers around your panties tighter, keeping them to the side as he wraps his free arm around your hip, tugging you closer to his mouth. One simple taste wasn’t nearly enough, it was only enough to make him feel feral with desire for you and for him to want to bury his face between your legs for the rest of his life. 

Bringing Seungcheol’s shirt up to your mouth, you bite down on the cotton to muffle your moans. Your eyes close tightly, tears running from your eyes and towards your hairline as Seungcheol’s lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks hard and groans, sending a vibration through your body. You feel yourself clench around nothing until he runs his tongue along your folds, massaging them, pulling them into his mouth and finally pressing his tongue into your needy hole. 

“Seungcheol!” 

The shirt falls from your lips as you scream his name, feeling the pressure that has been building in your abdomen and threatening to overflow. Seungcheol’s lips pull up ever so slightly, even as he nudges his nose against your clit and fucks you with his tongue, feeling you clench around the muscle. 

He wanted you to cum for him. He needed it more than he needed water to survive the desert. You were all that made sense right now, and getting you to bliss was the answer to everything. 

Sliding his hand from around your hip, Seungcheol grunts under his breath as he leans back, face wet with your slick. Spitting on your entrance, he works two of his fingers into your velvet walls, watching you arch your back off the bed. 

“There you go, baby.” 

He could feel you clamping down around his fingers as you became impossible wetter, your cum seeping around his fingers with each deep thrust. 

“Oh my god, Cheol...”

Smiling against your inner thigh, Seungcheol glances up at you to meet your eyes as he carefully slides his fingers out of you, feeling your walls pulse around them. He wanted more, but even if you decided that you couldn’t handle more or that you didn’t want more, seeing you like that would be enough. 

Reaching out for him, you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling instantly frustrated at the feeling of his jeans against your skin. The only thing that makes it better is his soft, plush lips on yours. You try to think quickly of anything better than Choi Seungcheol’s kiss—the way he would smile against your mouth before licking into it with a groan—and nothing comes to mind. Muttering into the kiss, you drag your fingers along his sides, feeling him shiver under your hands before he leans back to look down at you with want in his eyes. 

“Off, take them off. Want—I want you. Please?” 

At first, when you say off, Seungcheol’s heart almost drops into his stomach. He thinks that you really have had enough of him for the night, but then your nails tug at the top of his jeans and a smile pulls at his pretty lips. 

“Anything you want... fuck, Y/N. I’d give you the world.” 

Sucking on your bottom lip, you feel heat rising in your cheeks and along your chest and neck at Seungcheol’s words. You had fallen deep and hard for this man and he was a romantic. You weren’t going to get out of this without a few scars or in one piece, but now you weren’t sure if you wanted to. 

Watching him closely, your eyes follow Seungcheol as he slides off the bed to push his jeans down along with his boxers, leaving him naked in front of you. Bringing your fingers up to your already bitten lips, you turn on your side and press your cheek against your arm, trying to hide your reaction, but the look on Seungcheol’s face tells you that you haven’t gotten off that easily. 

Moving back to you, he runs his hand up the length of your leg, stopping at your hip as he tilts his head to meet your eyes, his other hand pulling your fingers from your lips. Seungcheol watches as your lips fall open on a soft, breathy gasp of his name when he guides your hand to his cock. With your hand in his, he guides your palm over the head of his length before wrapping your fingers around his shaft and dragging your hand from tip to base. 

“This okay?”

Nodding quickly, you whine, feeling Seungcheol thrust his hips gently towards your hand as he lets go of yours in place of running his fingers over your head, a groan slipping from his lips. He didn’t want to get off like this, and he wouldn’t, but with how you had been looking at him—a mixture of lust and surprise—Seungcheol wanted to make sure you knew what was going inside of you. 

Your eyes stay on his face for a moment longer before they drop to your hand and Seungcheol’s cock in your hand. It wasn’t as if you couldn’t tell he was big, but feeling and seeing were different stories. It wasn’t length but girth. He was thick enough that you could already imagine the stretch and found yourself thanking him in your mind for making you cum first. 

“Sh—shit baby… I gotta stop you.” 

Putting his hand back over yours, Seungcheol licks his lips and moves your hand from his leaking cock as it twitches, almost begging you for more. He already felt so close. Just looking at you, fucking you with his tongue, and feeling you on his fingers had been enough to make him feel like he was going to cum, but now your hand on him? He was lucky he didn’t cum the second he put your fingers around his cock. 

“Fuck me, Cheol.” 

Your voice is timid and almost a whisper but Seungcheol can hear it. Furrowing his brows, he licks his lips once more before shaking his head and this time your heart sinks before he speaks and slides his hand between your legs, parting them so he can once again run his fingers through your already swollen, wet folds. 

“No… I’m not going to fuck you, baby girl.” Grinning as you start to pout and whine in protest, Seungcheol leans to kiss your lips as he pushes two fingers into you, feeling you arch off the bed. “I’m gonna make love to you. There’s a difference.” 

Gasping on his lips, you hold on to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as Seungcheol rocks his fingers back against your spot, feeling you clench down over them once again. When you throw your head back, cum once again coating his fingers, Seungcheol groans, leaning to press his lips to the column of your throat, feeling your swallow hard under his kiss. 

“That’s it, such a good girl. You feel good?”

Out of breath, you nod weakly as Seungcheol looks down at you, sliding his fingers out of you. 

“That’s all I want, baby…” 

Glancing around the room, Seungcheol leans his head on his arm before taking a breath and wincing a bit before asking you what he had been mildly dreading from the moment this had begun. He knew it could make or break the moment, but it was important. 

“I didn’t bring anything with me with the assumption that something like this was happening. 

Fuck, I mean, I don’t even think I have condoms at my place. Do you have anything?” 

Smiling as you bite your lips, you run your fingers over Seungcheol’s cheek before tracing his lips, feeling him press a kiss to your fingers. 

“I’m on birth control, Cheol. It’s fine.” 

Taking a deep breath against your fingers, Seungcheol nods, feeling the pressure melt away as you run your knee along his outer thigh up to his hip. He hated the idea of disappointing you after making a big promise like he had, but now the pressure was taken over by desire. It was an honor to be in your bed in the first place, but like this? His head was spinning.

Sliding his fingers along your bent leg, Seungcheol leans into your hand as you cup his cheek before he turns to kiss your palm and nods, letting you know without words what he was doing. Gasping softly at the feeling of the tip of his cock running through your folds, you close your eyes and drop your hand to his shoulder as you push your head back into the pillow. Not even imagining the stretch could actually prepare you for the real thing as Seungcheol slowly eased inside of you bit by bit. 

“Oh my god.” The words fall from your lips like a prayer, tears finding your eyes again as the painful stretch is quickly replaced with pleasure. “Seungcheol… fuck. You’re…” 

The words get caught in your throat and Seungcheol looks up at you in concern, seeing tears running from your eyes. Running his fingers over your face, he stops moving and presses his lips to yours, only to feel you shake your head and lift your hips, trying to get more of him inside of you. 

“Ah—fuck, Y/N… I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

Nodding, you capture Seungcheol’s lips, kissing him between words. 

“I’m okay. Feels so good, baby. Please give me more.” 

Hearing you call him baby left Seungcheol stunned and love struck. He pauses before feeling you once again lift your hips before you wrap your legs around his waist and whine his name on his lips. 

“Okay…okay. It’s just... call me that again? Please?” 

You hadn’t even realized what you had said until he asked for you to call him the pet name again. Opening your eyes as you press your head back into the pillow, you feel Seungcheol bottom out in you, the stretch so intense that you clench around him, earning yourself a well deserved groan from his chest. 

“Baby?” 

You watch as Seungcheol nods, another groan dripping from his lips like candy for you to collect. Smiling, you can’t hold back a soft moan as Seungcheol makes a shallow thrust and you feel full and complete. You find yourself wanting to always feel like this. Warm, full, and safe. 

“I—lo—” You struggle with your words as Seungcheol thrusts deep and harder, sending your head towards the headboard. Reaching back over your head, you hold on to the side of it and hum out another moan before nodding. “Just like that, baby. I’m so close. You’re right, there’s a difference.” 

Seungcheol smiles at your words as he leans down to press a kiss on your shoulder. He was hoping you hadn’t been upset with him for telling you he was going to make love to you. There would be plenty of time for him to fuck you later—at least he hoped so. If he got his way, this would be forever. He could already picture himself buying a ring and getting down on one knee. 

Shaking his head to push that thought from his head, not wanting to scare you away, Seungcheol nips at your neck and groans, feeling himself about to burst. He had already made you cum twice, but it was important to him that you were satisfied. He would do everything he could not to cum before you. 

Tugging one of your legs loose from his waist, Seungcheol meets your eyes as he slides his hand between your bodies and finds your folds. He watches as your mouth falls open as his fingertips rub in tight circles over your clit, all while his cock is buried deep inside of you until that cord that was winding in your abdomen snaps once again. 

“Yes…yes—oh fuck!” 

Your voice was like music and had to be what angels sound like. That was all Seungcheol could think of as you came on his cock. You were so tight before, but now, as you orgasmed for the third time with him inside of you, he had seen heaven, and he wasn’t sure how he survived you. 

“Please… now you. Cheol, baby… please?” 

You begging him to cum only solidified that he had to have died and gone to heaven because there was no way for him to resist you. There was no way for him to hold back. Groaning loudly against the crook of your neck, Seungcheol cums as he feels your thighs start to shake around him. 

Running your fingers through his sweaty, damp hair, you close your eyes and focus on catching your breath as Seungcheol rests over your body. He was afraid he was too heavy, but the moment he tried to move away from you, a small whine of protest had him staying right where he was. Placing small kisses on the top of your breasts, Seungcheol then glances up at you, seeing the bliss on your face and he can’t help but smile. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Laughing softly, you open your eyes and look down at Seungcheol before lifting your hand to hide your face. There was no way you looked remotely beautiful at the moment. You knew you were sweaty and in desperate need of a shower and yet here was the most attractive man you had ever seen in your life, telling you that you were beautiful. 

Wrapping his hand gently around your wrist, Seungcheol pulls your hand from your face and kisses the back of it before bringing your palm to his chest. You feel his heart beating hard as he too works to catch his breath. 

“I’m serious, Y/N. I am so—shit I don’t want to scare you away, but I’m afraid if I don’t, I’ll lose you again. I’m in love with you.” 

Taking a sharp breath at Seungcheol’s confession, you glance up at the ceiling to avoid having to look at his eyes. A small frown replaces his smile as he hears your heart beat quicken in panic. He hadn’t wanted you to panic, but he knew it was a risk. Carefully sliding out of you and to your side, Seungcheol lifts your hand from his chest to his lips and kisses the back of your knuckles as you bite at your lips. 

“Y/N, baby, please look at me? I wanna talk about this. I know you feel something for me or else we wouldn’t be in this bed.” 

Pushing your thighs together, feeling even more sticky and sweaty, you feel yourself becoming even more self conscious until you meet Seungcheol’s eyes and see the concerned look on his face. You didn’t want to hurt him again. You had spent so much of your life running and once you had a good thing, it bit you in the ass. So now that you had walls that he had taken a sledgehammer to, it was terrifying. 

“I—you’re right. I do feel something for you. I feel a lot of things. I’m just so fucking scared, Seungcheol. What if we mess this up? I don’t—” 

Closing your eyes, your words end on a sob as your emotions get the better of you. Moving to pull you into his arms, Seungcheol shakes his head and shushes you before kissing the side of your head, letting you continue.

“I can’t hurt Matthew. I love him so much. I know I shouldn’t. It’s not proper for a teacher to have a favorite like that.” 

Smiling against your head, Seungcheol takes a deep breath and places another kiss before shaking his head. 

“I don’t think it has anything to do with being his teacher or a teacher in general. I think—and you can tell me to shove it up my ass if I’m out of line, but I think it has to do with just love in general. You are maternal, Y/N.” 

Swallowing hard, you hold onto Seungcheol’s forearm as you think through what he has said. 

There was a part of you that did want to tell him to shove it, but a larger part that knew he wasn’t wrong. You had pictured far too often a life with them that wasn’t just being Matthew’s teacher. 

“I feel like I should apologize for that or something.” 

Leaning back to look down at you, Seungcheol moves his hand to tilt your chin up so you will look at him. Furrowing his brow, he shakes his head and the look in his eyes is the most serious you have seen in the entire night. 

“Never apologize for loving my son. He loves you too.” 

The words go straight to your heart and tears stream down your face. You picture Matthew’s sweet smile as you close your eyes and you know you have to ask about him. 

“I—okay. Can I—can I ask how he’s doing?” 

Pulling you back to his chest, Seungcheol leans against your headboard and leans his head back against it with a soft sigh. 

“He’s sad, baby. He misses you. He doesn’t like school as much, even if Mrs. Lim is a decent teacher. He asked if you didn’t like him anymore and that was why you had to teach other little kids.” 

Seungcheol knew the truth of what Matthew had been dealing with would hurt you, but it was something that you needed to know. He could have sugar coated it, but when it came to his son and how he was feeling, that was something Seungcheol would never do. He isn’t surprised when he feels your body shake against his. It breaks his heart to feel your tears against his chest as you turn in his arms to be held tighter. 

“I can’t go back to that—to that school, Cheol. I didn't…  I’m the fucking worst.” 

Shushing you, Seungcheol kisses the top of your head as tears sit on the rims of his eyes, feeling your heartbreak and his own for his son. 

“I know it wasn’t just about us. That wasn’t why you left. What’s done is done. You aren’t the worst; don’t talk about yourself like that. All we need to do is talk to Matthew about it. He will understand.” 

"Alright, listen, if your dad asks about the weekend, what are you gonna say?” 

Jeonghan lifts a brow as he looks down at Matthew on his right. The little boy’s hand in his as he smiles up at him. It had taken a lot to get that smile on his face and he was proud to see it. Between him and Joshua, a weekend of trash tv, and all the worst foods you could feed a child, he was finally seeing the Matthew he knew. 

“That Uncle Jeonghan and Uncle Shua let me watch edgeucational things only on TV.” 

Clicking his tongue as he winks at his godson, Jeonghan fishes his key for Seungcheol’s apartment out of his pocket and pushes the door open. Shifting the overnight bag on his shoulder, he doesn’t glance up until he hears Matthew gasp in surprise. The sound scares him, his eyes widening as the boy takes off, running towards the living room and drawing his eyes in that direction. 

“What! What’s wrong?” 

It’s when he sees you sitting on the couch with Seungcheol that it makes sense. He watches as Matthew wraps his arms around your neck, the sad expression on your face and tears in your eyes as you wrap your arms around the child, pulling him into your lap. 

Meeting Seungcheol’s eyes, Jeonghan lifts his brows and gets a grin back as an answer. Shaking his head, Jeonghan drops the bag from his shoulder onto the couch and lets out a low, deep sigh. It had taken long enough, but clearly things had worked out the way they were supposed to. He just wished it had happened sooner and not at the expense of Matthew’s happiness. At least he could relish in the happy look on his face now, that was making up for almost all of it. 

“Well then, I was going to see if you needed me to stay for a bit today, but clearly...” 

Rolling his eyes, Seungcheol stands up to hug Jeonghan, whispering that he will explain everything later. Glancing back to you and Matthew, he presses his lips together as you nod along with Matthew’s story about his weekend with Uncle Jeonghan and Joshua, letting him have a moment to walk Jeonghan to the door. 

“Yeah, I wanna know all the juicy details. Jihoon owes me 100 bucks.” 

Grinning as Seungcheol makes a face of disgust, Jeonghan waves at you and Matthew before walking out the door, leaving the three of you to yourself. Leaning against the wall, Seungcheol watches for a moment longer, his lip caught between his teeth as you run your fingers through Matthew’s hair lovingly while you explain the new job. 

“But, I’ll still see you all the time. I promise, okay? I just have to help other kids for the rest of the year.” 

Pouting a bit, Matthew wraps his hand around yours, pulling it into his lap before nodding. 

“Mmkay… as long as you come over all the time.” 

Smiling a bit sheepishly as he looks from you to his dad and back, Matthew kicks his legs and giggles, making you tilt your head as Seungcheol moves to the couch to sit next to you. 

“Daddy, does this mean that Miss Y/N can be my mommy now?” 

Blanching slightly, Seungcheol’s mouth falls open as he looks at you, watching your lips press together. Meeting his son’s eyes, he tries to speak before laughing and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Uh, that’s adult business, son. I don’t know. Maybe one day. You know if Y/N will have your daddy as a husband.” 

Looking away to hide your embarrassed smile, you clear your throat as Matthew giggles once again and slides from your arms to his dad’s. 

“I think that’s a yes. All the boys on the TV show Uncle Shua liked got down on their knees and just asked. Most of the girls said yes, even though they were behind a wall!” 

His eyes widening, Seungcheol looks at you as you laugh and brings your fingers to your lips before speaking. 

“I thought you said you guys watched educational videos?” 

Looking down at his hands, realizing he had said too much, Matthew grins and shrugs. 

“I didn’t say nothing.” 

Eyes narrowing, Seungcheol presses his fingers into his son’s side, tickling him as he shakes his head. 

“I need to have a talk with your uncles about teaching you how to lie and letting you watch garbage.” 

Smiling, you watch the two people you love the most as they laugh and end up hugging when Seungcheol kisses Matthew’s cheek. You could get used to seeing this every day. 

You had thought that after you had helped Seugcheol get Matthew to bed, you might sneak back to your apartment, but then he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pouted. That was how you ended up on his bed, his lips on your neck as you whined softly, doing your best to keep your voice down, feeling him smile against your skin. 

“Seung–Seungcheol, please. I’m trying to be quiet. I’m not sure I can do this. What if we wake up, Matthew? How do we even explain—” 

Leaning back, Seungcheol meets your eyes and purses his lips before sliding off the bed and offering you his hand. Taking a breath to calm down, you put your fingers on his and let him guide you off the bed and towards the connected ensuite. 

“We don’t have to explain anything, baby. He’s a heavy sleeper, but if you are worried.” 

Leaning against the counter of the double sink, you watch as Seungcheol leans into the glass shower to turn it on. The sound of water fills your ears and you smile as the man you had grown to adore beyond words looks back at you for praise as if he had just moved the earth for you. 

“Smart…” 

Nodding along with your words, Seungcheol moves back over to you, sliding the skirt of your sundress up your legs to your hips. 

“I mean, I am a doctor. It’s a requirement.” 

Smacking his chest, you listen to Seungcheol’s laugh and it makes you feel warm and safe. Lifting your arms, you let him quickly undress you, dropping your dress on the counter before he takes a knee and hooks his fingers into your panties, shimmying them down your legs. 

“You don’t look half bad on your knee, Dr. Choi.” 

Seungcheol lifts his brow, a smirk pulling at one side, before he leans to press a kiss to your leg, discarding your panties to the side. You run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips on your skin, chill bumps spreading under his kisses. 

“You like me on my knee? Wanna see me like this again?” 

Your cheeks burning, you bite at your lips and hide your smile as you look away from his eyes as Seungcheol looks up at you before rising to his feet once again. Turning your head back towards him, Seungcheol brushes his lips over yours as steam starts to fill the room. He could feel the warmth on your cheeks under his fingers as he ran his thumb along your cheekbone towards your hairline. 

“Hm? I asked you something, baby girl.” 

Whining his name, you take a breath as Seungcheol takes a step back to tug off his shirt and quickly get rid of his pants and boxers before offering you his hand once again. 

“You can’t ask me things like that. It’s too soon.” 

Shaking his head, Seungcheol leads you towards the shower, opening the door for you and following you inside. His eyes move along your body as the water hits your skin and you lean your head back into the stream of water with a smile on your face. Lifting his free hand, Seungcheol runs it between your breasts and down your stomach as the smile on his lips grows. 

“Too soon for what? For me to already be thinking about wanting to marry you? Shit, I was thinking about that the night we drank wine until 2 in the morning on my couch.” 

Licking water from your lips, you lift your head to look at Seungcheol as he speaks to you. His words make you feel hot and almost speechless. He had wanted you for that long? He had wanted you that way for that long. 

Meeting your eyes for a second, Seungcheol lets out a soft hum of appreciation at the dazed look on your face before his middle finger drags between your folds and your knees buckle. Quickly wrapping his arm around your waist, he groans as he turns your back towards the shower wall and lets you rest against it. 

“I’m in it for the long haul, baby. I think you know that. Is that something you’d want? Hm? What was Matthew asking earlier? To be his mommy?” 

Your lips fall open in a moan of Seungcheol’s name as you feel two of his fingers hook into you and his palm rests against your clit. Lifting your leg, you wrap one around his waist, letting him keep you upright as you try to think straight, only managing to babble incoherently. You weren’t sure how he wanted you to think clearly and come up with logical words when his fingers were so deep in you. 

“Tell me… I really wanna know. Doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen tonight, but... I won’t lie, thinking about you like that—as my wife…” You feel Seungcheol shiver as a grin pulls at his lips against your jaw. “It turns me on.” 

You knew Seungcheol was romantic and now you knew he had particular kinks. God you were in trouble. You were in trouble of being in constant pleasure if you did end up being this man's wife. Holding onto Seungcheol’s biceps, you whisper his name as his lips brush against yours before nodding and feeling him nod in return. 

“You do? Yeah? Can you say it for me? I wanna hear it. Indulge me, sweetheart.” 

Whining, you lean your head back against the shower wall as you feel yourself starting to fall over the edge. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes from pleasure as you whimper and your mouth falls open, cum slipping down Seungcheol’s fingers as you moan out the words he wants to hear. 

“I would; I would wanna be your wife, Cheol. I love you.” 

Bracing himself against the wall, palm flat against it, Seungcheol groans, feeling himself unable to hold back. It’s not everything he has to give you, but you are surprised to feel warm cum on your stomach, drawing your eyes downward. 

“Oh, my god...”

Sighing, Seungcheol laughs, a bit embarrassed, before pushing off the wall and sliding his fingers out of you. Wiping his mouth clean of water, he uses his other hand to hold your leg to his hip as before, stroking his still hard cock a couple times and lining himself up with your eager pussy. 

“I told you I liked the idea of it. I love you, too. Fuck…” 

The last word out of Seungcheol’s mouth is drawn out as he slips himself inside of you with some effort. In this position, you were even tighter than he was used to. He had taken you to bed a few times over the weekend, but never like this and you had never sucked his cock in like you were trying to milk him dry. 

Holding your hip tightly, Seungcheol meets your eyes as you let out a soft gasp, feeling his hips meet yours. At this angle, you felt like he was going to tear you apart, but you weren’t complaining. There was bad pain, and then there was this. This was that sweet, satisfying pain that led to so much pleasure that you saw stars, and you were starting to see them. 

Lips meeting yours, Seungcheol groans into the kiss as he grinds his hips against yours, finding it harder to move after a few deep thrusts when you clamp down over him and cum once again. Scratching at his wet skin, you bite down into his bottom lip before leaning back from his kiss to pant out his name when Seungcheol groans so deep it sounds like a growl. 

He had made love to you before; there had truly been a difference between that and now. The way his fingers were bruising your hips and the way his hips were slapping against yours—now he was fucking you. You knew you wouldn’t be able to tell him which way you preferred, even as you watched his mouth fall open as he cums once again, this time filling you and pushing it out with each deep thrust. 

“Holy shit, baby.” 

Furrowing your brows, you let out a soft gasp as Seungcheol slips from you and lowers your leg safely back to the floor. Keeping your back to the wall, you take a few deep breaths, feeling his fingers running along your sides as his lips press to your throat, up your jaw, and finally to your lips before you smile. 

“That was…” 

Nodding to agree with you, Seungcheol laughs against your lips before taking a step back to step under the showerhead, feeling the warm water run over his body. Opening your eyes, you can’t help the way you shyly look at him before laughing and looking away, making him grin as he reaches for his shampoo with a tilt of his head. 

“What? Are you shy now? Is this about being in the shower with me or, uh, wife talk?” 

Wrinkling your nose, you knock your head back against the shower wall before pushing off of it and towards Seungcheol. Watching him follow you with curious eyes, you sigh and lift your arms to run your fingers through his hair, spreading around the shampoo as you speak, feeling his hands running over your hips. 

“The last part. It is a little fast. but I—is it bad that I like it too? Maybe I want that? Not now!” You are quick to add on the last to your sentence, making Seungcheol laugh before he leans his head back into the water, washing out the shampoo from his hair. “Just in the future, with you?” 

Taking a breath, Seungcheol runs his fingers through his hair and then holds on to your waist, switching positions under the shower head to let you stand there as he grabs body wash to start spreading it over your body slowly. 

“Not at all. I want it... in the future.” 

Smiling brightly, Seungcheol meets your eyes as you whine, feeling overwhelmed. Leaning to kiss your nose, he sighs and spreads the soapy water along your body as he nods. 

“Did I ever tell you that if I got married again, I’d love to have my honeymoon in Barcelona?” 

He was great at breaking the tension. You couldn’t help the smile that pulled up at your lips or the laugh that spilled from between them as you shook your head, turning in his arms to let him wash your back. 

“No? Well, that’s my dream destination. I’ve never been, and what better place to go with my bride?” 

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[grumpypixistix]

The lab assistant

Scientist!Miguel O’Hara x Shy!Reader

Warnings- Face sitting, slight corruption kink, slightly perverted!Miguel (if you squint), co-workers being dickheads, semi-public sex (let me know if I missed anything! )

MINORS DNI 18+

You had been working at Alchemax for a few months now. A few of your colleagues were generous enough to introduce you to the workplace and the other workers, but there was one person you couldn’t keep your eyes off of.

Miguel O’Hara.

When you first introduced yourself to him, he had already taken a liking to you. Something about how shy yet sweet you were made his pulse quicken and his cheeks burn. The way you smiled at him as you tried to introduce yourself, nervous about your first day at Alchemax. But you quickly felt at home when Miguel began to bond with you by taking over your “tour” of the place, making great conversation. Soon enough, your shell had cracked and you started talking about your personal interests, how you got hired, etc.

About a week after that day, he went home and couldn’t stop thinking about you for some reason. He didn’t know what to make of it, thinking it wasn’t too serious.

But then you started appearing in his dreams.

Miguel would dream about leaving marks everywhere on your body to claim you as his, fucking every ounce of innocence out of you.

And when he would wake up in a cold sweat, his cock was nearly on the verge of exploding, precum dripping everywhere. He felt guilty about it afterwards, it was just wrong for him to think about his colleague like that.

But you plagued his mind consistently. The dreams slowly turned into daily thoughts that he finally caved into, fisting his cock at least four times a day to the thought of your body. But you had no clue what he was doing after he got off of work. You just assumed that he only saw you as a co-worker and nothing else, maybe even a good friend.

But God, were you so far off from the truth.

As you entered the building for another shift of the week, your boss had approached you with some new information.

“I’m really sorry this is a last minute notice, but I need you to stay a little later. I tried to get some other people to stay instead, but all of them couldn’t do it… but on the bright side, Miguel volunteered to stay, so you won’t be completely alone.”

Great, just what you needed. A longer shift after your horrible week.

Even though some of your colleagues were nice to you, there was a group that wasn’t as generous as them. Some of them claimed that you were too clumsy or stupid to be an assistant, others claimed you were like a lost dog or a prude. Whatever they said, you tried not to pay attention to it too much. But there were days where it would get to you, and this week happened to have a bunch of those days.

You just nodded at your boss and shot him the best smile you could muster up.

“Alright then, that shouldn’t be a problem, sir” You said in a friendly tone.

“At least Miguel will be here with me… maybe I can talk to him, get my stress out” You thought to yourself as you walked off to start your shift.

When you walked into the lab and took your coat off of the hanger, you could hear some voices from the other side of the room.

“Oh great, look who’s here.”

“God, I don’t even know why she’s still here. She should’ve been fired months ago, she doesn’t even know what she’s doing.”

“I’m surprised Miguel even hangs out with her, she’s such a prude.”

“Hell, you should’ve seen the look on her face yesterday. She practically bursted into tears when we called her useless.”

The other comments stung a little, but what got you the most was the part about Miguel. Sure, you had developed a small crush on him, but that had nothing to do with your guy’s friendship. The fact that the other colleagues had judged your bond just to get a laugh hurt you more than you felt it should’ve.

God forbid if they ever found out about your feelings for Miguel… you couldn’t help but become paranoid over the idea.

As you tried to ignore the group across the room and focus on your tasks, it seemed that one of them had read your mind and called you over.

Shit.

“Hey, newbie! Come over here real quick, we gotta ask you somethin“ One of your colleagues called out.

Your heart pounded hard inside your chest, quietly gulping before walking over to the group with a small sigh.

“What do you need?” You asked gently, silently praying it was something work-related and not just making fun of you again.

Some of the others chuckled and chattered a little bit before falling quiet.

“Sooo, you’re friends with Miguel, right?” The female colleague from before asked.

Your palms began to grow sweaty as sirens went off in your mind, biting your cheek before answering.

“Yeah, why?” You raised your brow at your co-worker.

Your co-worker slowly smiled. Oh no.

“Well, we were just thinking… with the way you act around him and all… you definitely have a thing for him, don’t you?”

Your whole chest sunk to your stomach, wishing this was just some horrible dream and that you would wake up soon. Trying to play it off, your eyes widened at the question and you shook your head vigorously.

“What?? No, he’s just my friend-“

“That wasn’t my question. I asked if you have a thing for him” She cuts off coldly.

Some of the others snickered quietly, making your throat close up as you tried to hold your emotions back. Your face contorted into confusion at the strange question, the others taking notice of it.

“Oh my god, she’s clueless” One of the colleagues muttered with a small chuckle.

Your co-worker lets out a small laugh as she noticed your face, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

“Here, let me dumb it down for you: do you ever fantasize about having sex with Miguel?”

Your whole face flushed bright red as it clicked into your head, slowly shaking your head.

“N- No… that’s… that’s wrong” You stuttered, looking at your co-worker.

She stares at you with a raised brow, not believing you at all.

“Okay, sure… but you still like him, right? Being a prude and all, surely you at least have a crush on him.”

“Please, don’t call me that-“

“Or what? Huh? You gonna run off to your little boyfriend and cry in his arms? I’m sure he’ll baby you, he does every time he sees you” She hisses.

The feeling in your throat grew even stronger, your eyes slowly beginning to water. But you didn’t want to prove her theory, so you just stood there silently, not knowing what else to say. As the silence grew more, some of the colleagues just laughed.

“Wow… you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

“Who’s stupid?” A voice emerges from the entrance of the room, making everyone fall silent.

It was Miguel, standing with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed. The group of colleagues weren’t laughing or smiling anymore- instead, they actually looked nervous. The female coworker looked over at you for a quick moment before flashing a smile at Miguel.

“Oh, nothing! It was just something we were talking about from yesterday. Right, hon?” The co-worker said in an overly sweet tone, forcing herself to smile at you.

You froze, not wanting anymore conflict with the group, so you just went along with it. You quietly nodded your head and looked over at Miguel, giving your best smile.

“Mhm, it was just stuff from yesterday” You mustered up as your voice shook a little.

Miguel didn’t buy it at all, seeing how your eyes glistened, tears threatening to leave them at any second. He shot your co-worker a glare before looking back at you, a sigh leaving his lips.

“Ah, alright then… do you have the paperwork from last week? I just wanna make sure everything is right” Miguel spoke to you, his face softening a little.

You quickly nodded and walked away from the group to your clipboard that was in one of the desk drawers, skimming through the pile of papers to look for the documents. The group just watched as you eventually found the papers Miguel was referring to, handing them to him. He took out his glasses from his coat pocket and put them on, reading the sheet of paper. After a few moments of silence, Miguel took off his glasses and looked over at you, handing the paper back.

“This is perfect. Thank you, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen paperwork better than this and I’ve worked here longer than anyone else has” Miguel praised, a gentle smile formed on his lips.

“Thank you, Miguel. That means a lot to me” You hummed in appreciation, returning the smile.

The praise alone made you forget about the whole situation from earlier, but the smile comforted you even more. Your cheeks burned up as you felt your whole body tingle, a small smile creeping up your lips. The feeling Miguel made you have was insatiable, you just couldn’t get enough of it. You wanted more of him, to have his lips on yours…

You almost forgot that there were other people in the room. Almost.

The sound of low muttering made your head turn towards the group, the co-worker giving you a dirty look before the group parted separate ways. You set the paper on the table and Miguel leans down to whisper in your ear.

“We’ll talk about this later.”

Your head spun when you felt his warm breath tickle your skin, almost not realizing what he just said. When you finally processed it, you looked at Miguel and nodded a little. For once, you were actually kind of glad your boss made you work later.



After hours of working and following Miguel around for assistance (as he asked for your presence), it was time for the others to go home. Usually, you would be getting off at this time, but since you had to stay later, that meant you would have to pick up dinner on your way back home. You didn’t really mind since it would save you time and energy to make food at home.

Plus you didn’t mind since it meant you could spend more time with Miguel.

Speaking of which, you couldn’t help but notice something was a little off with him. You assumed it was because of what happened earlier, because he seemed a little more tense than normal. But after everyone had left, he looked over at you, glad that the two of you were finally alone. You were finishing out today’s paperwork, slouching over the desk as you tried to fight off your tiredness. Miguel walked over to you and gently took the pen out of your hand, turning your chair around to face him.

“Everyone left, it’s just us. Now… about what happened earlier…” Miguel started, bending down to your height, “Tell me. What exactly did they say to you?”

Your face burned up a little as his face was inches away from yours, struggling to find your words. He just stared at you, waiting for an answer. But after a few moments of silence, his face softened and he let out a small breath, resting his large hand on your thigh.

“I won’t say a word to anyone, I promise. I just want to know what’s wrong… when I got here, you were on the verge of tears” Miguel spoke softly.

The feeling of his hand on your thigh made your chest flutter and your stomach turn, trying to keep your composure as much as you could. He was only just trying to comfort you… right?

“They… they were asking me questions…” You began, still debating whether or not you should leave out a few details.

Miguel hummed a little as he listened to you, his other hand now on your other thigh as he gently caressed your skin. Your stomach felt fuzzy and warm, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Questions about what? C’mon hermosa, you can tell me” He coos, tucking a small strand of hair out of your face.

You swallowed hard and bit your lip hard before answering hesitantly.

“They were… questions a- about you.”

Miguel stopped and looked at you, gently grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“What did they ask about me?”

You stared up at him for a few moments and finally spoke again.

“They… they were asking if… I liked you” You whispered quietly.

That caught Miguel off-guard.

His eyes widened at you just the slightest, analyzing your face to see if you were messing with him. Once he noticed your flushed cheeks and nervous look, he knew you weren’t joking. After a moment of tense silence, Miguel licked his lips and started talking.

“…Do you?” Miguel asked lowly, looking down at your lips and up at your eyes.

His question had you in a slight panic, weighing out the odds. If you told him how you felt, it would either change your entire friendship or you would be stuck working alone for the rest of your time at Alchemax. Either one of those options sounded horrible, but if you didn’t tell him now, you were certain the group from earlier would do it eventually. Your heart raced so quick, Miguel swore he could hear it clearly. A shaky sigh left your lips and you nodded at him.

“Yeah… I do” You mumbled, scared that he would react negatively.

But instead, Miguel just chuckled softly and smiled at you, his hand cupping your face and his thumb dragging down your bottom lip.

“That’s good to know… because I’ve also liked you for quite some time now” Miguel responded, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

Your eyes widened at his response, a look of hope on your face as you slowly smiled.

“Really?” You squeaked.

Miguel chuckled again and nodded at you, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

“Of course I do… how could I not?” He whispered, his face slowly inching closer to yours.

Your face flushed all the way to your ears, finding yourself drifting towards him. Closer, closer and closer until you finally feel his warm lips on yours. It felt like hundreds of fireworks were exploding in your chest, slowly wrapping your arms around him and holding Miguel close. You were almost afraid to let go, and he seemed to notice this. Miguel gently moved his hands down to your waist, pulling you up out of the chair and into his arms. The more you kissed him, the harder it became for Miguel to keep his composure. He wanted to take things slow with you, not wanting to scare you away. But God, was it a challenge for him to just keep his hands on your hips.

After a little bit, Miguel finally broke the kiss to catch his breath, already panting softly. He looked at you and let out a groan that awoken something inside you.

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” Miguel huffed quietly, his thumbs barely peeking up the hem of your shirt and rubbing the bare skin of your stomach.

You just stared up at him, your mind still foggy from the kiss you two had shared moments ago. You shook your head with a quiet “No…”

Miguel sighed and looked down at your chest, his cock twitching inside his pants. He didn’t even bother hiding his erection anymore, moving your hips against his to show you the effect you had on him. You let out a gasp at the strange feeling, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your whole body felt hot now.

“I can’t help it… you’re just so fucking sweet… you haunt me in my dreams, I swear to god. Every night when I go to bed, all I can dream about is you and that fucking body of yours… all just for me.”

Your eyes widened at his words, not expecting him to say those kind of things to you. Normally, you’d be freaked out or even scared… but something about the way Miguel looked at you made you feel different. You weren’t sure if it was from the kiss earlier or your feelings for him in general, but you felt… ready in a sense. When Miguel saw your eyes widen at his words, his face dropped as he suddenly became worried.

“…Was that too much?” Miguel whispered gently, his brows furrowed together.

You slowly shook your head and placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“No… I- If anything, I… I sometimes have dreams about you, too…” You admitted with a quiet tone, looking away.

Miguel nearly went off the rails when you told him that, his pants feeling tighter around his dick. He moved you closer to him once more, moving your hair to the side.

“Mierda… Tell me about your dreams…” Miguel mumbled against you, pressing slow kisses to your cheek and down your neck.

Your thighs pressed together as a wet patch formed in your panties, your stomach flipping as you felt his lips against your skin. A shaky breath left your mouth, nearly moaning from how good it felt to have Miguel treat you this way. It was definitely wrong, but it felt so right. If anyone else had stayed with you two during the late shift and caught you like this, you’d be fired on the spot.

But nobody else was here. Just the two of you.

“S- sometimes I dream about you k- kissing me like this… and even…” Your voice faltered as you quickly grew shy again, biting down on your lip.

Miguel kissed and nipped at your neck, leaving little marks on your skin.

“Go on, Cariño…”

You swallowed before speaking again, letting a soft moan slip out.

“Even… touching me…”

Miguel moaned at that, causing your head to spin even more. You felt so hot that you swore you were going to pass out, but luckily you didn’t. He moved up to place a firm kiss on your lips, pulling away to look at you.

“Have I done anything more than just touching you in your dreams?” Miguel muttered lowly, his lips wet and raw.

You thought for a second before slowly shaking your head with a small breath.

“I always woke up before… before I could find out…” You answered Miguel.

Miguel frowned at that, looking at the marks on your neck before making direct eye contact with you. He sighed and shook his head, clicking his tongue.

“Well… do you wanna know what I’d do to you in my dreams?”

You nodded at him, genuinely curious as to what he dreamed about when you weren’t there with him. His forehead pressed against yours as his lips were centimeters away from your lips, his hands trailing from your waist down to your ass.

“In my dreams… I’d have you sit on my face and I’d make you cum over and over again until your legs give out..”

The image Miguel just gave you nearly made you collapse. You felt weak to your knees, a gentle whine escaping your lips. Miguel squeezed your thighs and kissed you once more, his hands moving up to the hem of your shirt. He parted from you to look at your face.

“Can I?” Miguel asked, wanting to make sure you were okay with this before he went any farther.

You looked at him for a few moments before making a decision, whispering out a small “Yes” to him. He took that as his green light and gently took your coat off first before moving to your shirt. He rolled the material up your body and over your head, helping you take your shirt off. Once you were topless in front of him, Miguel’s eyes scanned your chest. He muttered something quietly in Spanish before letting out a breathy sigh.

“Have I ever told you just how beautiful you are?” He coos softly.

Your face burned up as you felt vulnerable in front of him, but when Miguel spoke, you slowly started to become more comfortable. A bashful expression appeared on your face as you just shook your head.

“Not entirely…”

Miguel hummed gently as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, reaching towards your back to unclip your bra.

“Well… I think you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met… every time I see you, it’s always hard for me to look away. Shit, baby, it’s even hard for me to look away in my dreams. I wouldn’t give it up for any other view… you’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart” Miguel spoke in between kisses to your face and lips while gently kneading your exposed breasts.

You couldn’t help but moan at his words mixed with his touch, kissing him back each time he placed a kiss onto your soft lips. Miguel couldn’t get enough of the sweet sounds you made, craving even more from you. His hands moved down to unbutton your pants, taking off every last piece of clothing on your body before leaving you completely naked in front of him. Miguel’s breath hitched as he looked at your body.

It was even better than he imagined in his dreams.

Miguel placed small kisses down your neck and collarbone until he made it to your breasts, gently kissing and sucking one while his hand toyed with the other. The sensation made you moan a little louder, biting down on your lip to contain yourself. Miguel seemed to take notice of this and removed his mouth from your nipple.

“You don’t have to be quiet, muñeca… it’s just us. I wanna hear your pretty moans.. god, I’ve been dreaming about this for so long…”

As soon as he said that, his hands gripped your hips and he stared at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. Suddenly, he placed you on top of him as he laid down on the large table in the room. You could feel the tent in his pants right against your wet pussy, a low whine leaving your lips which caused Miguel to groan softly.

“Want you to sit on my face, querida… please…” Miguel begged softly, his hands still on your hips.

You let out a whimper at his request, reluctantly moving so your hips were directly above his face. You were hovering over him, not knowing what else to do. Miguel let out a quiet sigh, not wanting to wait any longer. He wanted to taste you… he had to taste you.

“You’re hovering, sweetheart. Lower your hips for me, ‘kay?” Miguel instructed, looking up at you from between your legs.

You looked down at him, slightly embarrassed from the position you were in. Regardless of how shy you became, you obeyed Miguel anyways, slowly lowering your hips a little.

“Is this g-“ Before you could even get your question out, Miguel’s mouth immediately attached to your clit.

You let out a loud gasp and moaned, Miguel’s tongue exploring your folds and licking up your juices. He let out a low growl that sent vibrations through your body, making you squirm and cry out.

“Joder, nena, sabes tan dulce… todo para mi~” Miguel moaned, his head moving up more to lick and suck on your clit again.

You whimpered as he sucked on your clit again, afraid that you would crush him if you moved your hips any lower. Miguel’s hands moved up to your ass and groped it tightly, his tongue poking your hole and sliding inside of you. The warm and wet feeling made your hands slam down on the table, trying not to drop your hips directly onto his face. Small pants left your mouth as his tongue fucked your hole and his nose brushed up against your sensitive clit, moaning as you kept your eyes shut tightly.

That’s when you felt Miguel’s hands grip your hips and his tongue slips out of your pussy, making you whine in response. You gasp as he pulls your hips down with such force, your eyes widening as you look down at him.

“Ay, Cariño, what did I tell you ‘bout the hovering? Stop hovering and sit on my face” Miguel scolded, spanking your ass as he goes back to licking and sucking your poor abused clit.

You cried out as you felt a new wave of pleasure form inside you, sobbing as he hit all of your spots with his mouth.

“Miguel~! Mig-“ You gasped, pulling his hair with one hand as the other stayed on the table for support.

But Miguel could care less if you suffocated him. Hell, he wanted you to. The sound of his name coming from your lips nearly made him cum in his pants right then and there. Every pretty noise that came out of your mouth was better than his dreams alone, not wanting you to stop. Miguel kissed and teased your clit more, savoring your taste as much as possible. His breath grew heavier and heavier as sweat trickled down his temples, burying his face in your pussy.

Miguel’s mouth left your clit with a small ‘pop’ as he re-entered his tongue inside your soaked hole, making you rut your hips against his face. The way his nose bumped your clit and his warm tongue stuffed inside you made your eyes roll back, your legs twitching already.

“God, don’t stop~ please don’t stop, Miggy~ feels s’good~” You begged pathetically, your shy demeanor now leaving your body.

Miguel moaned against you and spanked your ass hard once more, his fingers digging into your thighs. His own hips twitched against nothing as he listened to your pleads and moans, fucking you with his tongue relentlessly. With the way you begged so nicely for him to keep going, Miguel swore he could feel his precum seeping through his boxers and pants. How could he refuse you?

“Miguel-! I- I think I’m-“ You tried to warn him that you were close, your legs nearly giving out on you.

If it weren’t for Miguel’s large hands holding your hips up, you definitely would’ve collapsed on his face. But you were so desperate to cum, continuing to grind on his face as he licked a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. He caught his breath and looked up at you for a moment, his eyes dark and full of arousal.

“Go ahead, princesa… cum for me” Miguel moaned, going back to sucking your clit.

With just those words alone, the coil inside your stomach broke. You cried out loudly as you came, chanting his name over and over again. Your legs shook and you nearly collapsed onto him, Miguel catching you just in time. He licked up every drop of your release, making sure to not let it go to waste. You whimpered as he continued to lick your sensitive pussy, becoming overstimulated from his tongue. Your hands pressed down onto the table to hold yourself up, catching your breath as you carefully crawled off of his face.

As you sat down on the table next to Miguel, he sat up straight and faced you, panting heavily. Your eyes widened as you saw his chin was soaked from your juices, a dark blush forming across your cheeks. Miguel noticed your face as he finally caught his breath, a small laugh leaving his lips.

“How do you feel?” Miguel asked, licking his lips and wiping his chin off with his coat sleeve.

A soft breath left your mouth as you looked at him, a sheepish smile forming on your face, “I feel… I feel like that was the best thing I’ve ever experienced..”

Miguel chuckled and leaned over to you, placing a tender kiss to your lips. You melted against him and returned the kiss, slowly pulling away to look at him.

“I’m glad I could make you feel like that… say, uh… our shift actually ended like… 10 minutes ago” Miguel spoke as he checked his watch.

Your eyes widened as you looked around for your discarded clothes, Miguel quickly grabbing them before you could get off of the table.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got it. Just sit for a little bit, catch your breath” He mumbled, putting your clothes back on for you.

Your chest fluttered as he did so, smiling at him in a loving way. Miguel noticed this and chuckled as he helped you put your panties back on.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing… I was just wondering.. do you wanna stay the night at my place?” You offered, moving your hips a little as Miguel clothed you.

Miguel grinned widely at the offer, placing a peck to your forehead and nodding.

“Of course, I’d like that… I’ll buy dinner for us on the way there. My treat for this” Miguel hummed, putting your shirt on and placing soft kisses to your knuckles.

Your smile widened as he said that, pulling him in for a kiss. Miguel wrapped his arms around you as he kissed you back, his forehead pressed against yours as you two pulled away. He helped you off of the table and the both of you made your way out of the building, holding your hand and rubbing his thumb across your skin.

“Oh, by the way… I heard everything that happened with your co-workers. I was listening the whole time” Miguel admitted, looking over at you.

Your head whipped over to him, a surprised expression on your face. “You were-??”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. I actually got promoted as a manager a few weeks ago, so…”

Your eyes widened as a small gasp left your lips. “Wait, so that means-“

“That means you won’t be having to deal with them for much longer. I know those assholes have been messing with you since you got here… plus, everything they said about you is wrong. You’re the best worker this place has to offer and those dickheads have been here longer than you have” Miguel responded to you, placing a kiss to your temple.

A grin formed on your lips as joy filled your chest, squeezing Miguel’s hand.

“Thank you, Miguel… that means everything to me.”

“Of course. I gotta make sure my girl is okay.”

You let out a laugh as he said that, placing a soft kiss on his cheek as you walked with him down the street.

“So, is that your way of saying I’m your girlfriend now?” You chuckled.

“Only if you want to be” Miguel answered with a smirk.

You gently smacked his shoulder with your other hand and scoffed playfully, earning a laugh from him.

“Of course I do, Miguel.”

“Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Gackt - Vanilla 1999

Gackt is a Japanese singer-songwriter, musician, record producer and actor. He has been active since 1993, first as the frontman of the short-lived independent band Cains:Feel, and in 1995-1998 the visual kei rockband Malice Mizer, before starting his solo career in 1999. He has released nine studio albums and, with forty-eight singles released, holds the male soloist record for most top ten consecutive singles in Japanese music history. Besides being established in the modern entertainment industry and a pop icon, Gackt's music has been used as theme songs for video games, video game films, anime series/films, and television series. In addition to his music career, Gackt has acted and voice acted, including characters inspired by him in video games like Bujingai and Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII. He also provided the voice samples for the Vocaloid software Gackpoid.

Gackt released his second single "Vanilla", from his first full-length studio album Mars (2000), on August 11, 1999. "Vanilla" is one of his most popular and commercially successful songs. It peaked at number four on the Oricon Singles Chart and charted for ten weeks. With 248,360 copies sold, it was the 89th best-selling single of the year, and it was certified Gold by RIAJ. The single was later re-released in 2002. It charted for six weeks, reaching number twelve. "Vanilla" is a favourite among fans, particularly because of a live performance from Gackt's Mars tour, which contained a large amount of fanservice with Masa, his guitarist at the time.

"Vanilla" received a total of 72,5% yes votes!

[no-144444]

lies and flights- o.piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Skyf1interviewer! reader

summary: you two have a moment, the moment ends, and so does something else...

part one | part two | part three | part four

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He sighed as he walked into the paddock, cameras all over him as question after question was thrown at him. He answered as many as were appropriate and off he went, signing hats and t-shirts as he went. He had so much to do, so much to get through before qualifying, yet all he could think about was you. He didn’t mean to make it a big deal, he just wanted to take care of you. You’d fainted, for god’s sake. He was worried about you. 

He caught a glimpse of you walking in with Lando as he was filming some random content for one of the sponsor's instagram pages, and his mood sank lower than it already had been. You with Lando. 

It’s not like either of you had confessed, but you’d both felt the chemistry between the two of you, right? He finished up with filming and followed Tom into one of the meeting rooms, ready to look over data, when he (literally) bumped into you, sending you flying. 

“Shit, sorry,” he muttered as he caught you, holding you by the waist. “My bad.”

You smiled. “Saving me two days in a row? You should be a bodyguard instead of a driver,” you chuckled. “Thanks Osc.”

Lando’s jaw dropped when he heard you call him ‘Osc’, and a sense of pride bloomed in his chest. Osc was getting the girl! Lando sent him a quick thumbs up behind your back as he also held the camera. 

“What’re you doing here?” Oscar asked, not yet letting go of you. His hands were so warm, radiating heat through your whole body and making you nervous. You had a love-hate relationship with interactions with Oscar. He made you so nervous, no matter what. Your years of media training and professionalism could get stripped back by one small chuckle, one small smile, making eye contact. It was embarrassing. You liked him so much, which was a separate can of worms itself, and he looked at you the same way he looked at everyone.

“Motorhome tour,” you explained, looking up at him. He could’ve sworn he saw something in your eyes, something that practically asked him to make a move, to kiss you here in front of everyone. Then it was gone just as quickly as it appeared, your professionalism taking precedence over your feelings. “Moving on,” you turned back to the camera as Oscar dropped his hands from your waist, allowing you to move on. “To the driver’s rooms!”

He chuckled as he watched you and Lando run towards the other side of the motorhome, and Oscar started walking again, not unaware of the eyes Tom was giving him. 

“You two seem close,” he smirked. “The shoes aren’t a dealbreaker, no?”

He laughed. “Why does everyone bring up the shoes?!”

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“Congratulations on P3, Judgy McJudgy Pants! How did the race feel?” you questioned. You were doing post-race interviews today, and Oscar had gone from P5 to P3. 

“Yeah, it was difficult but we kept a good pace, Max was just too fast to catch,” he nodded, his eyes staring into yours. 

“I’m glad to hear, are you glad for the race to be over?”

He nodded, chuckling. “Very glad.”

“The heat must be something else in those cars, on top of the regular heat. Does that make getting out of the car a lot more of a relief?” 

“It does, but I was more excited about the interviewer,” he smirked. He was not doing this right now. He was not flirting with you on live television. You got the signal that the interview should end and you let out a quick breath of relief. 

“Well thank you, but I in fact need to interview your fellow podium drivers, thanks for your time.”

Lando walked over, ready to take the mic and he smirked at Oscar. “Getting bold?”

He shrugged with a smile. “What’s the worst she can say?” 

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"Oscar Jack Piastri!" Nicole's voice rang out as he lifted his phone to his ear. "My son flirting with people on live television is not something I want to see."

He chuckled as he mother continued berating him, and they chatted about the race for a while, before he had to go to the airport. When he walked to his door, ready to leave, he wasn't expecting a knock at the door, nor was he expecting it to be you.

"Hey Y/n," he smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm good thank, you?" you were out of breath. Had you ran here?

"I'm great, thanks. Are you alright?"

You came in and closed the door behind you. "What are you playing at?"

"Excuse me?"

"The interviews, the pictures, everything. What are you doing?" you questioned.

"Isn't it obvious?" he chuckled. "I like you, like, like like you. I thought I made that clear?"

You grimaced and his heart sank.

"It's fine if you don't-"

"Oscar, no, just... it's kind of awful timing and we can't be together, right? That would never work, we hate each other, right?" you rationalised, willing him to agree with you.

As much as he wanted to scream and rip his hair out, he nodded, a flat smile on his face. "Exactly, that's why I was just joking."

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God!" you chuckled. "Well, congratulations on the win and I'll see you in Qatar, thanks Osc."

"Bye," he smiled half-heartedly, then flung himself back on his bed when you left. You didn't like him back. And what did you mean by 'bad timing'? He spent his entire flight, awake and wondering about what you meant, and thinking over every interaction, wondering if he'd really just made it all up in his head.

But the way you looked at him, it couldn't just be platonic, right?

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yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charlesleclerc, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 2,928,733 others

yourusername: @.f1, you've been my home for many years and I love you, thank you for starting my career, but also for being my favourite series of motorsports since I was a little girl. But now @.skysports is branching out and I'm moving across the pond at the end of this season to cover @.Indycar and @.nascar ! I'll miss everyone so much, but I am so so so excited to see that the future will bring! 6 races left! (also sad to be missing the historic season that 2025 will be, but oh well!)

comments

user83: oh I'll kms.

pierregasly: we'll miss you xxx liked by: valterribottas, zhouguanyu, landonorris, danielriccardo, charlesleclerc, carlossainz, alexalbon, francocolapinto, liamlawson, yukistunoda, estebanocon, fernandoalonso, jensonbutton, aussiegrit, kevinmagnussen, nicohulkenburg, lewishamilton, georgerussell, kimiantonelli, olliebearman, isakhadjar, paularon, arthruleclerc, lancestroll, checoperez, maxverstappen, alexandrastmleux, kikagomez, lilymhe, rebeccadonaldson.

skysportsf1: We'll miss you most! xxx

tedkravitz: It's been a privilege and an honour to work with you. You truly are the funniest person I've ever met. Your segment on Ted's notebook will be thoroughly missed. You will be thoroughly missed.

charlesleclerc: Bonne chance mon amour! ❤️

yukistunoda: who will organise interviews with me and pierre now? 😿 -> yourusername: I'll ask ted :(

danielriccardo: legend of the sport :) -> yourusername: looking in a mirror are we?

mercedesfmg: we'll miss you y/n! 🩵

mclaren: missing you already! 🧡

user72: guys... has anyone told oscar? -> user21: he must be so upset :( -> user92: yeah his best friend and his crush leaving F1 in the same year.

stakef1: missing you 💚 -> yourusername: manifesting hulkenburg podium next year

lewishamilton: I'll miss you, but you definitely have to come back for some hot laps... maybe Austin next year? -> yourusername: I'm there :)

maxverstappen: sad to see you go, but i can't wait for all the stories :)

landonorris: FUCK I'M CRYING WHAT I'M GOING TO MISS YOU TOO MUCH PLEASE DON'T GO -> yourusername: IT'LL BE FINE LANDO YOU'RE A BIG BOY

patooward: YAY WE GET Y/N!

haasf1team: our favourite interviewer ever ❤️

alpine: missing you loads 🩷

jackdoohan: NO I'M FINE THAT MY BEST FRIEND IS MISSING MY ROOKIE SEASON -> yourusername: I'LL BE IN MELBOURNE AND AT THE LAST FEW RACES!!! -> jackdoohan: ...forgiven.

liamlawson: NO DON'T LEAVE ME HERE ALONE -> yourusername: JACK WILL BE THERE NEXT YEAR CALM DOWN

kimiantonelli: miss you xxx

olliebearman: will be in need of your smoothie recipe since you won't be here to make it :( -> yourusername: I'll send it to you :)

user829: someone check on oscar rn...?? -> user36: fr he's probably sobbing his celeb crush is leaving the paddock for good ->user292: BRO IS IN THE LIKES !!!!!!

redbullracing: we'll be staying tuned to watch shine -> user88: wow a better send-off than daniel got lmao

logansargeant: CANT WAIT TO SEE YOU AGAIN 😁😁😁😁 -> yourusername: ME NEITHER

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He stared at his phone in shock.

What. The. Fuck.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

part one | part two | part three | part four

[simp-ly-writes]

Are You Mine?

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.3)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: No matter how hard you try, your body, your mind, heart, and it seems that every other person you meet all agree on one thing, you and Jayce.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, light angst, fluff, touch as a love language, jealous! and protective!Jayce (no seriously), HIGHLY suggestive themes, kissing, reader is mentioned to have hair and is shorter than Jayce.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,026 | PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN

─ · · A/N: I'm just obsessed with these two... and I hope you guys are as well ;)

─────── · ·

─ · · Pulling your white lab coat over your dress and zipping up your boots, you locked your door and made your way to the laboratory- excited to take your mind away from silk and ties to formulas and equations.

─ · · You smiled softly, greeting everyone in the halls as they each waved and said their "good afternoons!" You were always shocked by the kindness of everyone and their ability to recognize you even when you did everything in your power to stay tucked away where you were comfortable (yet Jayce always had a secret power of teasing you out and into the public's eye)

─ · · But just as you were to step into the elevator and swipe your card, a dozen voices called out to you, an older student guide running after them, their parents staggering behind as your shoulders tensed before you turned around. "Miss (name)! Miss (name)!," they all begged and cheered once seeing your face. You smiled softly, "Good afternoon everyone" you greeted as they all came running, wide eyes and smiles.

It was a new potential batch of scholars that were visiting the school for the afternoon, you shook your head forgetting what day it was today as you shook each of their hands, their guide, a younger peer of yours in the biology wing winced, apologizing. "Miss (name) is a very important and highly influential public figure that you all appear to know... and they are also on a strict schedule-"

"Can we just ask a few questions?" "yes, can we please?" the students beg and you see some of the parents begging as well as the guide who looks over to you with equal pleading eyes. You sigh, "Only a couple, I have a meeting with the Councillor soon," you explain as they ooh and ahh. You tuck your books close to your chest, trying to hide the shaking in your hands.

"Whats it like working with Councillor Talis?" you giggle at the question, shaking your head, letting your hair cover your face. "I have worked with the Councillor for nearly a decade now and I can say that he is a brilliant man that puts the care of others before himself, and I am here to make sure someone is there to ensure he can work in prime condition." The student thanks you, taking a step back as a another steps forwards.

"I really love your dress, where did you get it?" you look up with a small smile watching as the student hangs on to your every word, "A friend made it or well got it made for me on my work-anniversary," you explain.

"Whats your favourite part of your job?" You hmm, thinking or your answer as you shuffle the books in your arm. "I really enjoy being able to listen to Councillor Talis's and Mr. Viktor's ideas and plans as they work them out piece by piece- getting a touch of their genius is nothing short of pure magic." They take a step back as you look at your watch, one more question...

"Mrs. Talis, I must say that-" you can hear a few of the students gasp and giggle as you go bright red and stare at your shoes before clearing your throat, "I'm afraid I'm not his mother, that is a special role for Miss. Ximena, Leader of House of Talis," you explain as the parent apologizes, going to pick up your hand yet you take a step away, picking up your head, "I'm afraid I must take my leave, please, enjoy the rest of your tour." You swiftly stand back inside the elevator, watching as the doors close in front of your face yet catching parts of the leftover conversation.

"I mean I thought that they were together?"

"Dad you're so embarrassing! Ugh, just because a pretty and smart lady is beside a man does not mean that they're together!"

"Well, son, every time I see that man looking at that woman like she hung all the stars in his sky..." This has to stop, you told yourself.

─────── · ·

─ · · You were surprised to see just Viktor in the laboratory today, but you were overwhelmingly thankful for it as you took your safety equipment from off the rack and walked over to stand behind Viktor who was currently holding a piece of chalk to his chin in contemplation

"I'm not one to miss others, but a morning without your coffee was nothing short of a funeral," you snorted, "Aww, I didn't know you would miss me so much Viktor. I promise to stay with you every moment of the day," you tease to hear a scoff.

"Please don't. I don't need another earful from Jayce," your eyebrows shoot up as you pour and mix Viktor's coffee before handing it to him and pick up a piece of chalk, silently fixing a missing digit as he curses underneath his breath. "Jayce already came in?" you question, taking a look at your watch again.

"Yes, just left with Mel," you hum, tapping your foot as you look over the final answer before moving up the latter and fix another portion. "Thats it?" Viktor comments, taking a sip of his coffee, doing his best to hide his pleased reaction as you look over your shoulder before sliding with the latter over to the other side. "Whats it?" you retort.

"I mean, you and Jayce are the same entity... I was surprised to... not have you this morning," Viktor explains, sitting down to rest his leg, watching as you work and fix his diagram. "No, that was correct," he comments- "Its a .5" you say back before sharing rolled-eyes.

"If you want to say you missed me, Viktor in your own little ways, it's okay, I already understood the first message and I have missed you too," you don't turn around while speaking, drawing the hexcore from memory at this point.

"That was not my, 'message,'" Viktor says in a monotone voice, "I was saying that Mels presence... is to be a one time occurrence, yes?" You laugh, stepping down before rolling your chair over to sit beside Viktor, opening up one of your journals with last weeks trial information. "I didn't know you to be so outspokenly political, Viktor," you tease- not quite touching again on what Viktor was trying to say.

His brow furrows, sharp lines coating over his features in annoyance. "And here I thought you to be smart-" you lightly slap his arm, "Viktor!"

"What I'm trying to say is that I much prefer having you and Jayce." You let the words linger in the room and swim in your head before speaking up, "Well, you would be of the few wanting that, not even myself," you stand, passing the papers over before heading back towards the doors. "I will be back to write down the final findings of today, do remember to eat the lunch I placed in the fridge," Viktor nods waiting for the door to be closed before sighing, Jayce, Jayce, Jayce.

─────── · ·

─ · · You knock before entering Jayce's office, confused as to why you do not see him there. You take a minute, sitting in front of his desk, waiting and watching as the minutes tick over... Now that you think about it, you didn't see him since leaving him in the hallway that night...

─ · · You check the library, check the lab again to see Viktor stumble awake and act like he was working the whole time, you roll your eyes, yelling at him to eat before closing the door again. You even walk towards the councillor room, nobody bats an eyelash watching you go around into these spaces as you scurry your way out of another empty room.

─ · · The day was almost nearing finished now and you needed to go over what Jayce would be doing and showing for his years Progress Day. And with little locations left, you took off towards the House of Talis in search of the Man of Progress

─ · · The guard smiled at you, a white glove welcoming you inside as you cleaned off the bottom of your boots and walked down the hall. You smile remebering the first time you came into this home when you first started working for Jayce. How it was just his mother to fill the space, you were thankful that Jayce had hired people to help her around the home- provide her company as you and Jayce had become more and more busy.

─ · · "Councillor Talis?" you called out, listening to how your words echoed in the empty space before being received by not the Talis you were looking for but Ximena.

"Hello dear," she greets you, arms wrapping you up into a hug as she pressing a kiss on to your cheek. You flush, mouth opening and closing before squeezing out a small "hello" back to her chuckle.

"As timid as the first time, I did hope that Jayce would get you to come out of your shell more. Please, our home is your home, be comfortable, would you like some tea or coffee maybe?" Mrs. Talis asks, still holding your hand as she leads you into a sitting room. Tall windows invite the setting sun to flood the space in warmth.

Now that you are sitting, you can truly take in the whole feeling of the plush furnishings and various pictures of a younger Jayce upon the walls. You smile at the woman before you, "A tea would be wonderful, can I help-"

"No! no- you do enough already, dear. Please, allow me," you feel immensely bad, a noble woman pouring your own tea? You could feel your own mother rolling in her grave- screaming at you. Picking at the small jewellery you wear you jump as a cup is being presented in front of your face.

"Now, tell me. How is my boy Jayce doing?" She asks with hopeful eyes looking into your own. You tilt your head, hand brushing behind your neck that causes the woman to smile even larger, "Umm, I was hoping that you would know where your son is actually. I have spent the day looking for him," you explain. Her smile drops and all you can feel is guilt.

"I'm sure he's okay! I mean I've watched him train-" you think back to him shirtless, panting, sweat dripping down his forehead as he looks at you, "a-and he can defend himself! he always has staff and the guard around to help and-" you start to rattle off answers before becoming shushed by the wave of a hand as you fold your hands in your lap. "I must tell that boy off, you poor thing, you shouldn't have to be running after him," she shakes her head, apologizing to you instead as she calls a staff member over, whispering something into their ear as they both stare at you and the staff leaves.

"I must say, dear. You looked stunning in that gown last night, I loved seeing all the pictures of you and Jayce together," you place on a tight smile nodding your head along to her words as you sweat, remembering how you ripped into her "dear Jayce" last night. Now that you think about it... you hope the collar to your shirt is high enough from last night, shit, so thats what people have been staring at... Somehow Ximena Talis catches your thoughts as she laughs, "It's alright dear," your cheeks warm, "I'm thankful that my son has chosen someone like you," she clarifies and you feel sick, "someone of clear morals, intelligent and kind. The true definition of beauty."

But before you can explain that you and her son were not in fact together, the doors open once more and a stoic Jayce Talis is accompanied by Mel. You and her share a nod and smile to one another, you feel Jayce's stare as you stand and bow your head slightly. "Good evening, Councillors," you greet.

"None of that now, (name)," Jayce shuns you, walking over and pressing a kiss to his mothers hand. He then moves to you, leaning down, your heart pounding in anticipation yet he stops, standing back upright and clearing his throat as Mel walks back to his side. "There was something that needed to be discussed?" Jayce asks, taking a seat as Mel sits on the arm of his chair, I remember doing that in his office- you close your eyes, no, not anymore. Professionals- remember, professionals...

"Yes, Councillor Ta-" Jayce glares- hard at you, daring you to continue your words. "Jayce," you correct yourself with squinted eyes as he nods, leaning away from Mel to focus on you entirely. You watch as his mother leans back, smiling behind her teacup. "I needed to talk with you about your Progress Day preparations and what Viktor and I found from todays tests."

Jayce stares at you for a moment, taking in the small exchange you and Mel shared earlier before he connects two and two together for what happened at the party. But just as he connects that answer, he is left with a dozen new ones. Why push me away now? Why shy away? Do you not understand how much you mean to me? Can't you see this is so much more than just "work"? Why don't you love me? Why... don't you... why? Is it me? Am I the problem? What do I need to do, to change, to get you to see me?

"Mel and I have Progress Day handled already, sweetheart, (name). Now what did you two find?" His smile appears forced, his hands fidgeting as his eyes tip down, watching at how you play with the rings on your fingers. Its like watching two computers talk to one another, Mel cringes, starting to feel out of place as she stands and sits down on another chair, watching you both with curious eyes.

─ · · Jayce looked pained his muscles flexing to keep him sitting in place. His eyes were wide, head nodding along to your every word- transfixed. It was like you had casted some sort of magical spell over the man- desperate to touch even an essence of you. Mel watched as you stuttered once seeing his stare on you, watched your adorable fidgeting and animated explanations, you truly came out of your shell taking about what you were confident in, she was beginning to understand Jayce's words when speaking about you.

"She can explain anything, can find just the right words or know want I need without even looking. Sometimes I swear she even knows I'm thinking about her and when our eyes meet, I feel sick in the best way. She is the perfect woman and I want to... meet whoever get's lucky enough to be with her..."

─ · · Mel, blinks, bringing herself back to the present. "I-I, or well, Viktor and I found that by positions the runes at .5 of a degree southwards inline with the sun results in more power coming from the vessel... we did a small test on one of your hammers, its force is nothing short of incredible,-" you lose yourself, taking a mile a minute as you open up your books and show, it starts to feel just like old times again as Jayce almost falls out of his chair to look more closely at your drawings, nodding along as he flips back and forth between designs.

─────── · ·

─ · · Ximena Talis's small smile is now a full born smirk as she tips her head over to Mel, "they really are perfect for one another, are they not?" she says. Mel does not reply right away, you both were just... working and yet Jayce was so animatic and attentive with you. Pulling your hand from picking at your skin, flipping the page for you as you rattled off statistics before he was not even speaking fluent English, only numbers that you jotted down with ease and precision; keeping up with his every thought.

That once stoic Jayce that she entered the room with was nowhere to be found as he looked just about ready to fall into your lap and have you pet his hair. "They work well together," Mel answers. Not looking at the raised chin she received. "Hm," Zimena scoffs, "I knew she was the one the first time I met her. Jayce refused to orbit anywhere without her in reach. At first I was scared to see my boy jump to confidence so quickly, to put himself out there, but when we sat and had dinner together. I could see why he was pushing himself so hard- it was for her. Always for her even if he chooses to say else wise." Mel looks at Jayce's mother as they both exchange a silent conversation... she never had a chance.

─────── · ·

─ · · You both are breathless, now sitting on the same couch after your discoveries. Jayce looks down at you, at your exposed neck before his heart hammers and burns in his chest like stakes through his heart. He keeps uncovering answers tonight and now he wants them to stop appearing.

You catch his look, moving your hair and not meeting his furrowed brows. You watch a fist form in his lap his hand grip the couch from behind your head. He leans in, uncaring, or well... too caring, as usual as you turn away, exposing the markings again. "I want you to listen to my speech this weekend before the event," Jayce says, a statement rather than a question. You think back on your already planned weekend plans yet all you can see his Jayce's honey eyes staring into your own, drinking you in and leaving you breathless, How could you refuse?

You nod, watching as he smirks before offering a hand, holding it, his thumb rolling over your knuckles in an effort to soothe himself more than you it seems and leads you out towards the door.

But before you can put on your coat and leave, he pulls your arm back, pressing your back against the wood door and your chests together. Your eyes go wide, a small gasp leaving your lips that his eyes flicker down to. He brings a hand up to circle your cheek before resting his forehead against your own, "A night without you, your words, your touch... helped me to remember how much I need you-"

"You have me, Jayce," you say albeit a little breathless and overwhelmed. You pray that Mel and his mother don't come after you both soon, or maybe you did, you didn't know what to think honestly while being enveloped in with warmth.

"No, I," he sighs, "I know that but," Jayce appears frustrated, brining a fist up beside your head before he steps back, gripping his hair. You extend you head, touching his shoulder gently feeling him take breaths. You stand up on your toes, pulling his chin down to look at you, "Jayce, hey, you can tell me anything you know that right? I'm your assistant, I am meant to help you with anything-"

"Help me?" Jayce asks softly, you nod, eyes welling with concern. You hadn't seen him this way not since Viktor had been getting more and more ill... "I need you to kiss me."

You blink, the words not quite reaching your ears as he places his head on your shoulder. "what?" you ask, looking back at the doors you exited form, still closed. "I need you to kiss me."

"Jayce!" you whisper shout, his hair tickling your neck as he grabs your hips, a part of you missing the feeling of his large hands on your body. "Are you alright?" you ask, starting to feel his head for any bumps and body for any bruises. He groans from your touch.

"No. I'm not since you don't understand," his grips tightens as you whimper, "you are mine. You are everything to me. I don't care what anyone else says or thinks, I only think- feel you. I cannot function without having you close, I need to hold you, to-to touch you to even have a chance speaking properly and you ground me more than anyone else could, more than I would allow anyone else to."

You shake in his arms, gripping his shoulders, his words shocking you to your core. "Jayce-I" he can already hear the hesitation in your voice. "Whats holding you, holding us back?" he asks, looking at you again, you know you cannot lie.

"I'm you assistant, Jayce-I-I-" Jayce lets you go and all you can feel is cold without his touch. You cross your arms, shivering in your coat.

"You're fired then, what else I need to do to make you want me, make you need me," Jayce says, you gasp, Jayce is completely serious, his strong arms crossing over his own chest as he stares you down, "and before you go saying you have a boyfriend, I know it was a one-night stand." You roll your eyes at him- wrong choice.

Jayce pulls you outside once hearing the room stir from behind you both. You feel as though it is that night in the hallway again as he walks through the streets, the cool night air kissing your skin as Jayce pulls you away and back to his apartment. "J-Jayce! You're not acting like yourself, please," you beg for what you don't know yet he does nothing to reply not until you both are inside then and suddenly, his mouth is on yours and you can't help but lose the feeling in your legs and fold into his touch.

Jayce grabs your neck, pressing his lips harder against your own as his tongue parts your lips, deepening the kiss. You pull at his jacket, forgetting yourself, forgetting the setting in this moment before pulling away- gasping for air before Jayce is pulling you back in for another, not giving you time to think. His lips paint over every mark and indent in your skin as if trying to make you forget.

Your breath gets cut off for a second as he licks at your collarbone, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, "Jayce," you moan out his name as he growls kissing you, swallowing your words. You grip at the material of his shirt, pulling him closer to you, you can feel him smile against your skin before leaving a series of lingering kisses up your neck and behind your ear in which he playfully bites.

Jayce's voice is deep, his words short as he whispers them only for you to hear, "I love you." You freeze taking in your first deep breath, your eyes fully open to look into his own, you can see just how scared he is in this moment yet so ready to lose it all just for the chance of being with you. Your heart hammers you can feel his own pounding against your clothes that feel way too hot in this moment.

"I love you too, Jayce," you say, he kisses your cheek. "Say it again," he commands, picking you up by the back of your things. You wrap them around his waist, squealing as your back hits a plush bed. You look up, watching as Jayce removes his shirt. Your lips parted, hair spread out like a Halo behind your head, your legs still parted to leave space for him as he leans down on his forearms, encaging your head.

"I-I love you," you say again, this time a bit more timid than he likes. He rolls his hips into your own as you cry, "Say it again."

"I love you!" you say with a bit more confidence, nails reaching up to feel the muscles of his back. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your nose, "I love you too."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: don't ask I don't know what came over me to write this last section LMAO. So... part 4 anyone, part 4 LOL jk jk... (unless?) 👀

─ · · TAGLIST: @sseleniaa

─ · · PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN

[redzie02]

San comes home from tour in the middle of the night

needed the comfort so here’s a short San fic

warnings: none ?/ maybe slightly suggestive at the end/ comfort/ dialogue starts under the cut lol masterlist

You'd been thrashing around for hours, trying to find comfort, but no luck. The bed was uncomfortable. Your pillow was too warm. Even your comforter annoyed you.

Peaceful sleep was not something you were well acquainted with the last few months, especially considering the absence of your favorite person. San.

You knew what you signed up for when you and San started dating, but it didn't make times like these any less difficult. Daily phone calls and texts only did so much to ease the longing.

Frustrated and miserable, you sat up and dramatically snatched your pillow and smacked it onto the opposite end of the bed. With a huff, you laid down and exhaled deeply, satisfied with the new sleeping arrangement. It was somehow exponentially more comfortable, but something was missing.

You couldn't be bothered to sit up again, so you slid your foot under San's pillow and gently tossed it to the other end of the bed. You held it tightly to your body, inhaling the subtle mixture of San's shampoo and fresh body odor before tucking it under your chin- the same way he holds you.

The remnants of San's faint aroma hit you straight in the gut. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your throat starting to tighten.

Just one more week and he'll be home. Don't cry. You repeated these words to yourself while blindly patting down the bed in search for your phone. You squinted at your screen before sending a text.

3:58 am my y/n♡: i miss you :(

You tossed your phone to the side, not expecting an answer. You'd sent San over a dozen texts yesterday, but he only responded back by hearting a few of the messages. A bit infuriating, but you understood he was most likely just busy.

-

You awoke with a startle when you felt something lightly dragging up and down your arm. The lamp in the furthest corner of the bedroom was on, casting a soft yellow glow, but still bright enough to leave you squinting at the figure before you.

You almost whimper when you realize San was standing just a few inches away from you. You practically leapt up, throwing your arms around San's neck, almost causing him to stumble. You couldn't help the whine in your voice as you spoke, your voice groggy from the fatigue. “I thought tour ended next week.”

His strong arms wrapped around your waist, constricting your breathing a bit, but you didn't care. “I got the dates mixed up, that’s my fault, baby, I'm sorry. I texted you when I was on my way thirty minutes ago, didn’t you see it? I sent it right after I saw your text.”

“I don’t even know where I threw that thing, if we’re being honest." He chuckled into your neck. "Ugh, I don’t care. You’re finally home.”

You pulled him backwards until he was laying on top of you on the bed. He lifted his head from your shoulder, his smiley eyes taking in every millimeter of your face as you did the exact same. He freed his right arm from under you and smoothed your hair out of your face. His breath tickled your cheek as he quietly spoke, “It was four in the morning when you texted me…Why were you up, hmm?”

You wrapped your legs around San’s waist, your whole body clinging to him. Your hands slipped under his shirt, your fingers caressing his warm, soft skin. “I haven’t been able to sleep without you.”

He raised his eyebrow, but his body relaxed even further in your embrace. “You never mentioned this.”

“The last thing I want is for you to worry about me when you’re about to perform for thousands of people.” You sighed.

He hummed in understanding, but rebutted, leaning down to place kisses on your cheek. “I want to worry about you. You’re the most important person in my life.”

“I’m telling your mom that.”

“Please don’t.” He pouted and took a moment to run his index finger across your eyebrows and down your nose. “I haven’t been able to sleep either.”

You pinched San's waist, drawing out a small yelp from him. “San! You promised you were taking care of yourself.”

“I was, I swear…but it really started to hit me a month into the tour. It was so hard not seeing your clothes all over the floor.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh? You make me sound like a slob…”

“What I mean is…the only reminder of you that I had with me was the pendant you gave me and your pictures in my phone. Nothing felt like home.”

“Oh. I almost wish that was all I had of you. Everything in this apartment and this city reminded me of you. It only made me miss you more.” His thumb stroked your cheek. "I know it's your job, but I hate when you leave."

“Me too, baby." San's eyes softened when they met your glossy ones, a small pang in his heart. He couldn't help himself as he brought his lips to yours, inhaling your sigh. What started off as soft kisses, grew more eager, months of deprivation just barely being chipped away.

San let out a noise between a whine and a groan as he pulled away. "I missed this,” he cups your face before dragging his thumb from your cheek to your now wet bottom lip. “And this.” He kisses the tip of your nose and continues to leave a perfect path of pecks down the side of your face. “This.” He places a kiss on your earlobe before taking it between his teeth, gently nipping. “You,” he whispers in your ear. “Us.” His lips leave a trail of kisses down your neck. The breath of his sigh tickles your skin, sending chills up and down your body.

You push San’s hair out his face, running your fingers through his silky, dark locks. You close your eyes, feeling your body relax just a bit too much. As badly as you wanted to keep going, exhaustion was beginning to eat away at you. “Sannie.”

“Hmm?”

“We should sleep.”

“Continue later?”

“Yes, please.”

a/n: San took a shower before falling asleep btw he is not stinky.,,,all my fics are lowkey the same lol

[gracieheartspedro]

About You

how to help gaza

pairing: colin bridgerton x f!reader, brief benedict bridgerton x reader action

description: finally ready to get off the marriage mart, your family arranges a marriage to a bridgerton. but not the one you have always desired.

word count: 2.4k words

author’s note: hiiii folks. this is part one so more coming soon. I wrote it in an hour after I watched pt1 of season 3. I only edited it a couple times. plus there’s a lack of colin content on this website. so i’m here, filling the void ❤️

You had waited for this night your whole life. The night you would be proposed to. 

Your mother had ensured you wore your finest gown, a soft purple dress with beautiful sparkles and embellishments. She even gifted you a necklace your grandmother had worn the night of her engagement. 

It was a huge moment for everyone involved. But you could not help but feel a pit in your stomach. You wanted to call them nerves, but it was more so you knew you were making a mistake. 

When you arrive at Lady Danbury’s estate, you and your parents step out of a horse-drawn carriage and into a beautifully decorated ball. The candles lined the entrance, and red and white roses encapsulated the entire space. 

You did the typical introductions and curtsies. You thanked Lady Danbury for throwing such a captivating event for your special moment. She smiled and told you that it had to be mesmerizing for such anticipation. You felt light-headed thinking of all the eyes that would be on you tonight. 

You found your way to the ballroom, where ladies and gentlemen alike were already dancing. You find your way around the room, instantly finding a group of ladies you had made acquaintance with before. The four of you chat and they all share that they cannot wait to watch the Bridgerton boy propose to you in front of the masses. 

It makes you sick to your stomach. 

You excuse yourself to find some lemonade on one of the many tables. You would prefer some champagne, but alcohol does not make it right for you. It does not allow any clarity. So, you stand alone, trying to collect your thoughts and not freak out too much before anything happens. 

“There’s my gem.”

His voice is deeper when it’s right in one of your ringlet curls. It also doesn’t help that he’s saying it for your ears only, making the comment even more sensual. 

Colin Bridgerton was terrible at being just your friend. He was always too close to you, always searching you out in a crowd, and constantly waiting around for you at social events. 

He had been doing it for years before he disappeared on a world tour. You knew your time on the marriage mart was over when your mother and father, a Duke and Duchess, pulled aside Violet Bridgerton and begged her to pawn one of her sons off onto you. And while she would have easily convinced Colin, he was in Italy learning about The Pantheon and had stated he had no intentions marrying. 

So, Benedict would have to do.

You turn to face the taller gentleman, ensuring your posture was fixed to that of a Lady. 

“Mister Bridgerton, what do I owe the pleasure?” You falter to formalities, rather than your normal banter with him. You knew people would be watching you like a hawk, as tonight was the night Benedict was going to try to secure a proposal. 

“I have not seen you in a year and suddenly you speaking to me as if I am a stranger,” His voice is confident, but his eyes read the same insecure boy you remember. 

You let out a sly chuckle, “Well, we practically are at this point, are we not? You are the Ton’s most eligible bachelor as soon as you returned from your tour  and I feel like the man gracing me with his presence is not the man I once knew.”

He seems taken aback by your comments, his face dropping a bit. 

“I’ve been hearing whispers amongst the Ton that you’re getting a proposal,” He halts, taking a sip of the lemonade slid between his fingers, “From my brother?”

You hear the jealousy laced in his voice, but you try your best not to call him out on it. You turn around, still shoulder-to-shoulder with the man. “One can only hope, Mister Bridgerton. It would only be my pleasure to join the family.”

“As Benedict’s missus?”

You want to scream at him, but your trained politeness is engrained deep within every fiber of your being. 

“Well, I have you know, that it was arranged by your Mama and my parents. It is simply a way to join our families. You know my Mama and yours have always taken to one another. I did not know you would have such an issue with it.”

Before he can say more, you spot Benedict across the ballroom chatting with Eloise and Francesca. He meets your eyes and gives you a curt nod and smirk. You nod back, knowing that he would approach you once the conversation concludes. You had this whole act down to a science. 

Because that’s what it was for you. An act. A way to make your parents get off your back. It was no love match, it was only practical. Benedict was a gentleman, into the arts, comfortable with moving away from the city. He was everything you needed, just not what you wanted. 

“I leave for a bit of time and suddenly my own brother is courting my best friend,” Colin groans, shifting in his spot. You return your gaze back to him, trying to understand why tonight had to be the night that he fought for you. The term best friend had a bite to it, as well. While you were a lady, you had already shared a kiss with a few boys, including Colin. While you two were underage and not able to make such distinct decisions on marriage, you knew that the feelings you had for him were shared. 

What was so frustrating was that he could never actually confess such feelings. You could see it in his eyes when you glanced his way, but the words never slipped his lips. He only shot flirtations at you and then there was no action as a follow-up. It made your mind race and spin. You started to believe that it was not flirtations at all and it was all just teasing.

“I think you are missing out on the key point in your conjecture, Colin,” You lick your lips, moving only a bit closer to him so no one can hear your words, “You left me. I stayed here and pondered what another season would be like without you. And of course, at the very end of such an event, you decide to be cruel.”

“How am I being cruel, Miss? I am simply stating that you are choosing someone I care about for expedience and not for love.”

“You are being cruel by approaching me and acting like you are even half aware of the circumstances you are speaking of.”

He chuckles, trying not to entertain your comments. “I am well aware that you have always wanted a love match. You know that is not what you are getting with Benedict, Gem.”

Your throat tightens because you know he is right. You have dreamed of a love match since you were a precocious child, enduring all the teasing him and Eloise about it. 

And you knew deep down that the love match you wanted was with him. 

The damn nickname he gave you years ago continues to get a rise. You can feel your face get flushed, the heat rising all the way down your neck and chest. 

“Who said I needed a love match, Mister Bridgerton?!”

You never meant to be loud, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, you realize everyone staring your way. You had seriously messed up. 

Colin did not even look away from your completely shell-shocked expression. He was not focused on the glares and whispers, he only cared that the woman he was in love with was about to marry his brother. He could not let that happen. 

The feeling of embarrassment made every part of your body jittery. You decided that the exit seemed like the best option, so you made your way past everyone and ran to the back garden of the Danbury estate. The flowers that lined the railings made the tears in your vision sparkle like fireworks. 

You try your best to suppress the useless waterworks, but the emotions get the best of you. You felt humiliated that you had to explain your motives to a man who hardly knew you anymore. What does he know?

You find a corner to hide in, making sure your face is hidden away from the exit. When you hear footsteps approach, you pray it’s not a Bridgerton. Sadly, you’re disappointed. 

“What did Colin say to you?”

You remove your cream glove, ensuring no tear touches such an expensive fabric. You needed to collect yourself a bit before turning to face Benedict. So you dab your eyes with your fingertips and spin to face him. He looks concerned, his hand reaching for yours. 

“I am so sorry, Lord Bridgerton. He got the better of me and he still knows how best to irritate me,” your eyes well up again with tears, “I do apologize for not being more put together.”

He squeezes your hand reassuringly, “Do not apologize. I expected him to be a bit tormented by the whole situation.”

You furrow your brows, quizzically. “What ever do you mean?”

“Well, he told my Mama last season that he did not want to marry because you were courting Lord Jacques. That is why he left early for his travels.”

The revelation makes your heart skip a beat, “Why would him marrying have anything to do with me?”

You try to play dumb so maybe you could get more out of the man, but instead of answering you, he just shakes his head. His focus drops, and as soon as you lose fixation on his actions, you notice Colin loitering around the exit. You drop Benedict’s hand and sidestep to get the man in your line of vision. 

“You have never been good at hide and seek, Mister Bridgerton,” You say with spite, “Step into the light.”

His slow meander only makes you more angry. 

“Now, why is my brother alone with my best friend in the garden? Seems like a scandal waiting to happen.” 

Benedict snickers, “Seems like we were never alone, brother. You appear to be around every waiting corner.”

You cross your arms, annoyed with both men and sick of the mortification. You could not help but appreciate Benedict’s snarky nature, it has always thrown Colin off his game. You clear your throat, bringing their eyes to you. 

“I wish to understand why you lied to me about leaving early last season.” 

Colin’s disposition changes as soon as you say it. Last season, Colin left abruptly and wrote you saying it was because of a learning opportunity in Vienna. You took his word for it, but based on what Benedict had just told you, that was a lie. 

“Pardon m-”

“Colin, why did you lie about leaving the season early?”

“Gem, I really do not know where you got this information.”

“Oh, give me a break, Colin. You told me and Anthony that you did not wish to marry unless a girl like her came around. When you realized she was interested in another, you left.” 

Colin races forward, grabbing onto the man to your left. He tugs his vest coat and brings him inches from his own face. The action rattles you, but you remain composed. 

“I told you that in confidence!”

“And you are making her upset with your mind games! If you had just said what your heart’s truth was, you would be the one celebrated tonight. Instead, you stand by and fume over a woman you can no longer have.”

Colin clenches his teeth, “Who said I can no longer?”

Your stomach flips, unsure of how Colin could be so possessive of you. Benedict seems shocked as well because he nudges the man off of him and glances over at you. You realize that this is Colin’s way of confessing his intentions, but you cannot believe that he has to say it on the night of your engagement.

“You are brazen to concur such a thing.”

Colin finally looks at you, taking note of your shaky voice. “So, you are going to marry him?”

The unsettle in your heart has never gone away ever since you were told about the arrangement. You knew that your heart was telling you to run the other way, but you did not want to let down your family. You had taken kindly to Benedict, promenading almost every other day to get to know one another. 

“I have not been asked yet, so I am not quit-”

Colin steps forward taking your hand, “What if I asked you first? Would you accept me? My hand, I mean?”

Benedict steps forward, touching his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Gem, will you marry me?”

A tear slips past your lashes, your heart just about exploding within your chest. Colin’s eyes are desperate, pleading with you.  You are not sure what to say, every possible word escaping you. 

You realize you are panting, the breath leaving your lips labored in panic. You flick your sights over to Benedict, who is stunned but not trying to get Colin to retract his query. You revert your gaze back to Colin’s deep blue eyes.

“Why now?”

He takes a deep breath, “Because I am absolutely useless with my emotions and I have only humiliated myself when I express them. I did not think you would ever consider my hand and had I known that you thought kindly of me I would have told you the first moment you debuted. But I cowered in silence, hoping the emotions I have felt since I was a child would subside. But I have searched every corner of this world and I did not find one lady that made me feel the same emotions I feel when I even just look your way. I hate that it took me so long to realize that you are the only woman I will ever really… love.”

The confession is exactly what you need to change your mind. Because you felt the exact same way. All this time you have been running from the emotions you felt every moment Colin stared in your direction. You thought them immature and vain. But every time you watched him dance with another, the fire within you would burn. You were sick of loving him from far away. 

“The Ton believes me to be promised to Benedict. The embarrassment he will suffer if I accept your proposal could be deafening-”

“Do not worry about me, Miss,” Benedict says, pacing with his hands on his hips, “I could never fully live with myself coming between two lovers. I only waiting for him to realize what we have all been subjected to the last 3 years.”

Colin smirks at him, “And what’s that?”

“The torture of loving someone and not giving in to temptation.”

[svt-luna]

ʚིᵋ ⋆ NANA TOUR ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── episode 1-1.

Nana Tour with SEVENTEEN

synopsis: Episode 1-1! Don’t let SEVENTEEN know. SEVENTEEN’s Nana Tour begins with kidnapping shenanigans, preparation chaos, endless laughs, and the promise of an unforgettable European escapade.

we are officially off to Italy, my loves!!! prepare your boarding passes, take your seats, buckle your seatbelts, grab your snacks, and clear the next hour of your schedules because this is gonna be a long one!! i apologize this took long but… i don’t post short or half-assed content 😝 happy reading, my lovelies 🤍

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST

╰ ౨ৎ fan reactions ╰ ౨ৎ nana tour masterlist

[added captions are in brackets] ღ

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

[‘NANA TOUR’ with SEVENTEEN]

[Together at Italy]

[Journey for six nights and seven days]

[Starts now]

It was a morning in September and the air outside the hotel near Tokyo Dome buzzed with the energy of SEVENTEEN’s final ‘Follow’ concert in Tokyo.

[2023.09.07 Japan Tokyo Dome]

Inside the hotel, the atmosphere was calm but focused, with the staff bustling around the floor occupied by the group. Among them, in his quiet room, S.Coups sat by the edge of the couch, a pair of crutches leaning against the sofa behind him. The weight of his injury— a cruciate ligament rupture in his ACL— was both physical and emotional.

Though he couldn’t perform onstage, he had been steadfast in supporting his members as the leader, ensuring morale stayed high despite his absence.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, making him glance up with a small chuckle. “Yes, come on in,” he called, his voice steady and warm despite his condition.

The door opened to reveal none other than PD Na, stepping inside with a broad smile. “Hello,” S.Coups greeted with a laugh as PD Na entered the room, trailed by a camera crew.

[An unexpected (?) reunion in Japan]

PD Na grinned, his presence lighting up the space as he moved closer, his expression shifting to one of concern. “What happened? Why did you get hurt?”

S.Coups could only manage a sad smile, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he gestured at the crutches. Slowly, he sat back down, motioning for PD Na to do the same. The cameramen adjusted their positions, capturing the interaction between the two.

“Are you alright?” PD Na asked, extending his hand as S.Coups shook it firmly.

“Yes,” S.Coups responded, his tone calm but tinged with resignation.

PD Na tilted his head, scrutinizing the leader with a mix of amusement and empathy.

“No. What is happening in Japan?” S.Coups said, leaning into the elephant in the room.

“I came, and SEVENTEEN is using this whole floor,” PD Na finally began.

“Yes,” S.Coups confirmed, smiling. “We blocked it off and we are using all of it.”

“Do you have an extra room?” PD Na quipped, feigning exasperation and making S.Coups laugh.

“You didn’t get a room?” S.Coups asked, amusement flickering in his voice.

“The hotel is nice,” PD Na said.

[PD Na is going to kidnap SEVENTEEN from this hotel]

PD Na then waved off the topic before moving on to the purpose of his visit. “Not too long ago, PD Shin came. Did you have no idea?”

S.Coups shook his head, honest confusion softening his features. “I didn’t know. Didn’t know at all,” he replied.

“Really?” PD Na pressed, narrowing his eyes in mock disbelief.

“Someone familiar was coming in…” S.Coups started, recalling the moment four hours earlier when PD Na’s staff had visited him to inform him of what was about to unfold. “‘Oh? Why are you here?’” he finished, shaking his head with a faint chuckle.

[After prior consultation with the director manager, ‘NANA TOUR’ staff stopped by suddenly]

The memory was still fresh, PD Na revealed a card bearing the logo of the show. He held it up in front of the camera, the crew panning in to capture the moment. “Here you… hold it,” PD Na instructed, extending the card toward S.Coups. Following his lead, S.Coups grasped the other end, the two of them posing dramatically for the camera.

“That way, the appearance fee will be going out,” PD Na remarked, his humor breaking through the seriousness of the moment. S.Coups laughed loudly, covering his face with one hand in embarrassment.

“But about you not coming because you hurt your leg…” PD Na started again, his tone turning lighthearted once more. “Proof of content might be sent to you.”

“Proof of content? Why?” S.Coups asked, his curiosity piqued as he chuckled.

“You got hurt when we’re supposed to go,” PD Na pointed out before letting out a wistful sigh. “To be honest, he wants to go so bad. To be honest, you needed to come with us. It would have been really nice to go together. I’m so sad about that.”

S.Coups nodded solemnly, understanding the sentiment but knowing there was no way around it. His recovery and rehabilitation were a priority, and even delaying the show wouldn’t have been enough for him to join.

S.Coups leaned back slightly, adjusting his posture to sit more comfortably while PD Na, perched on a chair across from him, exuded an air of casual amusement as he broached his next question.

“Do you normally talk about it? About ‘Youth Over Flowers’?” PD Na asked his tone light but laced with curiosity.

[Reason why PD Na worked this hard to come to Tokyo… during ‘Super’ promotions last time, SEVENTEEN won the chance to appear on “Youth Over Flowers”]

S.Coups let out a soft laugh, his hand instinctively brushing through his hair. “To be honest, we only said, ‘Won’t we be able to go?’” he admitted, his voice calm yet reflective.

PD Na tilted his head, gesturing lightly for S.Coups to elaborate.

“So,” S.Coups began, his gaze briefly dropping to his hands resting on his lap, “our album needs to come out and then, we need to do awards ceremonies and stuff.”

“You guys are busy,” PD Na acknowledged with a nod, his understanding tone tinged with admiration for their packed schedules.

“Eventually… we thought that it would just disappear,” S.Coups admitted, referring to the idea of Youth Over Flowers as a distant possibility.

“Wow… I didn’t know that we would go like this,” S.Coups marveled, his lips curving into a grin of genuine surprise.

“That’s good. The members have no idea,” PD Na pointed out, his grin growing wider as he observed S.Coups’ amusement.

“No clue,” S.Coups agreed, chuckling softly at the secrecy of the plan.

[Current situation other than S.Coups: SEVENTEEN has no idea]

“And even if we do it, they have no clue that it’s going to happen right now,” PD Na added, his tone almost conspiratorial.

S.Coups nodded again, the amusement still glinting in his eyes as the reality of what was about to happen started to settle in. The thought of how utterly unprepared the other members were brought a mischievous energy to the conversation.

[Thats why we worked harder in preparing perfectly]

The sheer level of deception involved had been intricate. Not only had the members been kept entirely in the dark, but even the bulk of their own staff had been left out of the loop. Only a couple of people— those directly involved in pulling off this feat— had been informed beforehand.

Their management team had gone so far as to create fake schedules for the upcoming weeks, meticulously designed to deflect any suspicion. Filming, recordings, practice, photoshoots, and even supposed downtime had all been fabricated to maintain the illusion of normalcy.

“What time is the meeting time?” PD Na asked, steering the conversation toward logistics. “Right now… five o’clock. Five in the morning,” he said, referring to the next day when the so-called “kidnapping” would take place.

[Expected time of members’ kidnapping]

“If it’s five in the morning, what is the situation that you expect?” PD Na asked, directing the question back to S.Coups.

[Tomorrow: 12 hours later]

The SEVENTEEN leader didn’t miss a beat. “Half of them would be drinking,” he answered matter-of-factly, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

PD Na sighed deeply, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “SEVENTEEN has problems. They have problems,” he said, his exasperated tone lightened by a chuckle.

S.Coups couldn’t hold back his laughter, the sound echoing warmly in the room. “Since the concert is over,” he reasoned, his smile still lingering.

“Who are the ones who would be drinking?” PD Na asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Mingyu…” S.Coups started, his tone thoughtful as he began listing names.

“Mingyu is big, so he would drink a lot too,” PD Na interjected, nodding knowingly.

“I think Mingyu would be drunk… Mingyu is definitely going to be drunk,” S.Coups said confidently before continuing, “But I think that all of them would be drinking today other than the ones who normally don’t drink. Other than Hoshi, Luna, and Woozi.”

PD Na hummed in agreement, processing the information. “I think we need to see the situation,” he said, his mind clearly running through possible scenarios.

“But I don’t think they would sleep,” S.Coups added, shaking his head slightly.

“I think we should see the situation at four in the morning,” PD Na planned aloud, nodding as if solidifying the strategy in his mind. “So, I’m going to drag them right away,” he added, his tone resolute.

“They’re not going to bring their bags anyway,” S.Coups remarked with a knowing smile. “Don’t you just drag them out and head out?”

[Vacation where they are dragged to nature]

PD Na chuckled. “I think out of the thirteen people… I think six of them are going to wear hotel slippers.”

“Mingyu only brought slippers right now,” S.Coups revealed, his tone carrying a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“How are the members’ conditions right now?” PD Na asked, leaning slightly forward. His voice was measured, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity, as though he were bracing himself for the possible chaos awaiting them.

[Q. SEVENTEEN’s condition]

S.Coups sighed, a thoughtful expression crossing his face before he spoke. “I’m worried about The8,” he said, his tone tinged with both amusement and concern.

PD Na’s brow furrowed, his head tilting in curiosity. “Why? Why The8?”

“He’s looking forward to it so much,” S.Coups explained, his words slow and deliberate as if choosing how best to phrase his thoughts as he referred to the fake show PD Na created for the two Chinese members. “He thinks he’s going with only Jun.”

[Hunter: See the Earth] [The8 is completely fooled by the fake program]

Understanding dawned on PD Na’s face, his lips curving into a slight smile as S.Coups continued.

“He’s so excited about going there right now,” S.Coups added, his voice softer this time, carrying a note of affection for his younger member.

PD Na let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “The room with The8 and Jun… I will go in while apologizing,” he said, his tone light but sincere, already imagining the scene.

“You need to do that. That’s not my problem. Not my problem,” S.Coups quipped, leaning back in his chair with a chuckle, clearly relishing the thought of being absolved of responsibility.

“No, as the leader… the members’ schedules and stuff… can’t you talk about it together?” PD Na retorted, narrowing his eyes slightly as if scolding him.

S.Coups raised an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Don’t you not do that either? That’s what a PD does.”

“I don’t,” PD Na said, his voice rising just a fraction in mock indignation. But the way he avoided eye contact betrayed the lie. S.Coups caught it instantly and burst into laughter.

The act was futile; S.Coups’ hearty laughter filled the room, and even PD Na couldn’t hold back a grin anymore.

“When we go to Italy, I will always be beside The8’s group,” PD Na declared, trying to redeem himself as he straightened his posture. “I can do that,” he added confidently.

S.Coups, still chuckling, nodded in agreement.

“I can do that,” PD Na affirmed again, almost as if convincing himself. “I can just be his designated person.”

[Type of mental care]

The air between them lightened even further, both men now fully immersed in the fun of their scheming. PD Na leaned forward slightly, transitioning to a new topic. “Who will have the best reaction when they find out we’re going?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

[Q. Best reaction when they find out about ‘NANA TOUR’]

S.Coups didn’t hesitate, holding up his fingers as he began listing names. “Seungkwan, DK, Mingyu…”

“Mingyu is everywhere,” one of the producers interjected from the background, chuckling softly.

“To be honest, Mingyu is my one pick. My favorite,” S.Coups admitted with a grin, his voice playful but fond.

“Put Mingyu next to The8 no matter what,” PD Na said with mock seriousness. “I will have a good conversation with The8 and with Mingyu… I think I need to talk to him.”

S.Coups laughed again, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. “Other than The8…” one of the producers prompted, steering the conversation back.

[Q. Any other people we need to take care of?]

“Woozi,” S.Coups said without missing a beat. He leaned forward slightly, his expression thoughtful as he elaborated. “As for Woozi, you need to roll him around a lot. So, if you tell him it’s a free trip, he’s only going to sleep.”

“Workout and sleep, workout and sleep, workout and sleep,” S.Coups clarified, his tone resigned but amused as if this was a well-established fact about Woozi.

“Next to Mingyu and The8, put Woozi,” PD Na instructed, clearly taking mental notes.

“I think I need to also talk with Woozi,” PD Na added, earning another laugh from S.Coups.

PD Na then shifted gears, his gaze returning to S.Coups with an expectant look. “Anyone else?”

S.Coups paused, considering the question before nodding. “Hmm… Luna.”

“Really?” PD Na asked, his tone tinged with surprise.

“Yes. Please don’t lose her,” S.Coups chuckled, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

“Why would we lose her?” PD Na laughed, his amusement evident.

S.Coups’ expression turned playfully exasperated as he explained. “Jiyeonie loves to shop. She’s a shopaholic, really,” he said, leaning back in his chair as he spoke.

“Wherever and whenever we travel, she has to buy something… has to. Especially in places she hasn’t been to before… she’ll suddenly disappear and come back with bags of stuff, so you might lose her every now and then,” S.Coups elaborated, shaking his head with a small smile as he pictured it.

PD Na chuckled, nodding as he absorbed the information. “Alright… so my group would consist of The8, Mingyu, Woozi, and Luna,” he said, his tone final as if sealing the plan.

[PD Na’s babysitting service]

S.Coups nodded, a soft laugh escaping him as he imagined the chaos that group would undoubtedly bring. He folded his arms, his face thoughtful as he asked the next question. “But, what happens if they say they’re not going to go?” His voice carried the slightest hint of curiosity mixed with the playful intent to test PD Na’s resolve.

PD Na straightened slightly, his face betraying a flicker of surprise as he tried to anticipate where this was going.

S.Coups, sensing the moment, leaned forward, his tone deepening as he began re-enacting a hypothetical scenario. “‘I’m not going to go. Not going to go.’ Then?” He mimicked a defiant expression, complete with folded arms and a subtle pout, his voice slightly exaggerated for comedic effect.

The silence from PD Na’s end was palpable, leaving the production team in stifled laughter.

S.Coups raised an eyebrow, not letting him off the hook. “‘This is a schedule that wasn’t talked about. I’m not going to go.’ What if it’s like this?” he continued, shaking his head as though thoroughly exasperated by his members’ imaginary refusal.

PD Na, still struggling to find words, opened his mouth only to close it again, clearly unsure of how to respond.

[Unexpected turn they didn’t think about]

S.Coups smirked, relishing the moment as he delivered his next line with mock gravitas. “This is written in our contracts. ‘Must work only with the artist’s consent,’” he said, nodding knowingly as if he were quoting from the agreed-upon text of their contracts.

[All invalid if SEVENTEEN doesn’t agree]

PD Na finally regained his footing, leaning forward as though trying to reason with him. “Didn’t you guys agree then?” he asked, his tone pointed, clearly referencing the fact that SEVENTEEN had pitched the idea for the show months prior.

S.Coups tilted his head, his grin widening as he responded. “No. Because we don’t know we’re going now.”

PD Na narrowed his eyes, sensing a deliberate trap in S.Coups’ logic. The leader, however, wasn’t done. He raised his hand as though signaling for attention, continuing with yet another hypothetical. “What if they close the door and say, ‘I don’t want to go’?”

PD Na threw his head back with an exasperated laugh, shaking his head at the increasingly absurd scenarios S.Coups was presenting. “Then you and I… ‘Sorry guys, wait. Let’s talk about it.’ We need to do this.” He mimed knocking on an invisible door, his fist gently rapping the air as he assumed the role of a desperate negotiator.

The room erupted in laughter at PD Na’s exaggerated reenactment, but it was S.Coups who laughed the hardest.

PD Na, emboldened by the laughter, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “I will talk to Mingyu and tell him to carry the ones who won’t go out,” he said, his tone as serious as though it were the most practical solution in the world.

[Mingyu is versatile]

S.Coups slapped his thigh, unable to contain his amusement, as the staff chuckled in the background.

PD Na pressed on, fully committed to the bit. “I think he would carry them out, right?”

S.Coups nodded, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

The shared laughter seemed to echo, bouncing off the walls of the hotel suite. Despite the playful banter, it was clear that both men were already imagining the challenges— and the hilarity— of what awaited them in Italy.

[8 hours before kidnapping]

The Tokyo Dome glittered with a sea of lightsticks, their glowing hues creating a kaleidoscope of colors that danced across the massive arena. The hum of anticipation from over fifty thousand Carats resonated through the walls, growing louder with each passing second.

The massive stage— set with sprawling platforms, dynamic screens, and hidden lifts— was ready for the night’s final show of SEVENTEEN’s Japan tour.

Above the stage, in a private suite tucked away in the shadows, S.Coups sat with his hands resting on the railing. His injury had sidelined him for months, but his heart raced just as it would before any performance.

Dressed simply yet stylishly, his sharp eyes followed every movement on stage. His pride in his members was evident in the way his gaze softened, a flicker of a smile appearing whenever one of them nailed their part or sent a wave of energy crashing over the crowd.

Over the next four hours, the group poured their hearts into every moment.

As the concert drew to a close with their iconic encore stages, the members ran through the audience platforms, interacting with fans up close. Sweat-drenched and glowing with adrenaline, they gave everything to the final performances, leaving nothing behind.

When the final bow came, they huddled together, thanking their fans for their unwavering support. As the lights dimmed and the cheers faded, the members exited the stage, utterly exhausted but brimming with satisfaction.

[The 4 hour long concert ended successfully]

By the time the clock struck 4:30 a.m., the Tokyo Dome had long since emptied, and the members had returned to their hotel rooms. Most of them were fast asleep, their energy drained from the grueling four-hour performance.

The quiet hum of Tokyo’s city lights filled the air as PD Na’s team gathered discreetly on SEVENTEEN’s hotel floor.

[Kidnapping operation begins]

PD Na’s plan was audacious —kidnapping SEVENTEEN without their prior knowledge.

It was all for the sake of their upcoming variety show, but the logistics were daunting. In a hotel room, PD Na’s crew briefed SEVENTEEN’s unsuspecting managers, performance directors, and staff on what was about to unfold.

The managers exchanged confused glances, their exhaustion from the concert evident in their expressions. One of them leaned forward, whispering to another, clearly baffled by the last-minute plan.

Then they were told a few of the members were still awake.

The answer came quickly— Hoshi, Joshua, Seungkwan, Dino, and Mingyu. They were gathered in one of the members’ hotel rooms, their laughter, muffled yet audible even from the hallway.

A quick check confirmed the situation: they weren’t just awake, they were fully immersed in a drunken rap battle.

[Some members are awake in the next room.]

The hours before the “kidnapping” grew tense as the logistical challenges became apparent. PD Na’s bold plan to capture SEVENTEEN off-guard relied on precision and timing, yet the group’s unexpected energy after their Tokyo concert threw a wrench into the carefully laid plans.

PD Na’s staff scrambled to adjust, unsure how to deal with the ongoing chaos in one of the rooms.

In the rest of the members’ suite, the atmosphere was the polar opposite of the sleepy stillness in the other rooms.

The impromptu drinking session had escalated into a spectacle of competitive hilarity.

Dino’s boisterous energy filled the room as he leaned into his over-the-top rap, his voice booming in the enclosed space. Hoshi, meanwhile, had abandoned all semblance of rhythm, choosing instead to dance along with a ferocity that sent Seungkwan into fits of laughter. Mingyu sprawled across the bed, egged everyone on with exaggerated applause, his flushed cheeks betraying just how much he had indulged.

Joshua, the most composed of the group, watched with an amused look on his face. It was a scene of pure, unfiltered chaos— the kind of moment that encapsulated the bond between the members.

Meanwhile, in the hotel’s staff quarters, PD Na and his team worked tirelessly to finalize the abduction strategy. They were acutely aware of the tight schedule; SEVENTEEN had to be moved without delay to ensure the surprise remained intact. The managers and performance staff, though initially confused, quickly aligned with the plan.

Still, the drunken antics in the other room loomed over the operation like a ticking time bomb. PD Na’s crew whispered urgently among themselves, trying to decide whether to intervene or wait for the chaos to die down.

Time was slipping away, and every passing second brought them closer to the moment when SEVENTEEN’s world would be upended.

Unbeknownst to the members still awake and their unsuspecting colleagues who were sound asleep, blissfully unaware of the whirlwind that awaited them.

The serene quiet of the early morning hours contrasted starkly with the storm brewing behind the scenes— a prelude to the kind of chaos only SEVENTEEN and PD Na could create together.

Once everything was meticulously set, PD Na began his elaborate plan with S.Coups as his willing accomplice.

[Creates a script]

The first step was to infiltrate the room where Mingyu, Hoshi, Seungkwan, Joshua, and Dino were still wide awake, their energy high despite the late hour. Laughter and loud chatter spilled into the hallway, mingled with the thumping bass of their makeshift speaker.

From outside, Dino’s exaggerated rapping could be heard clearly, his playful attempt to rhyme something nonsensical drawing cheers and jeers from the others.

S.Coups made the first move, strolling casually into their room. His presence didn’t raise suspicion; it wasn’t uncommon for him to check in, even late at night. He mentioned, nonchalantly, that he seemed to have misplaced his phone and wondered if anyone had seen it.

This immediately sent the group into a half-hearted search. Dino, eager to prove his helpfulness, grabbed his own phone and offered to call S.Coups’ number after their leader’s instructions.

While this was happening, Hoshi quietly slipped out of the room to head back to his own. As he turned the corner into the hallway, he froze mid-step, his eyes widening in disbelief as he came face-to-face with PD Na.

[Caught]

The realization dawned after a few seconds of complete and utter confusion— Hoshi was now a part of the plan, whether he liked it or not. PD Na motioned for silence with an exaggerated finger to his lips, and Hoshi, trying to mask his bewilderment, nodded before heading back into the room.

Inside, Dino tapped the call button on his screen, and the group waited, distractedly chatting while the phone rang. Then, instead of the usual muffled vibration from some forgotten corner, they were startled by a sudden burst of noise as their door flew open.

There enters PD Na, holding up S.Coups’ phone triumphantly by his ears, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. The sheer audacity of his entrance left them stunned for a moment, their brains scrambling to process the unexpected sight.

Confusion rippled through the room like a wave. Mingyu’s jaw dropped; Seungkwan’s expression flipped rapidly between shock and indignation; Joshua blinked as though trying to wake himself up from a dream; Dino, still holding his own phone, froze mid-laugh, his mouth agape as he ran to the other side of the room. S.Coups, meanwhile, sat casually on one of the chairs, arms crossed, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter as he drank in their reactions.

[on average, their souls are gone]

As PD Na began explaining, gesturing animatedly to catch everyone up on the absurdity of the situation, the pieces started to fall into place for the group. Disbelief gave way to reluctant acceptance, and soon they were swept up in the chaos, fully realizing they were now a part of whatever scheme PD Na had concocted that they initially asked for.

Excitement buzzed through the group as Seungkwan, Joshua, Dino, Mingyu, and Hoshi eagerly followed PD Na and S.Coups out of their room.

Their initial shock had been replaced by a shared giddiness as they whispered among themselves, plotting their next move. The energy in the air was infectious, as though they had suddenly been handed the script to a variety show episode and were ready to run with it. PD Na and S.Coups trailed behind, exchanging amused glances as the five concocted their plan with increasing enthusiasm.

Their next target was clear— DK, whose room was located at the far end of the hallway.

The group, already energized from their impromptu ‘Left & Right’ performance during the concert, decided that the best way to wake DK was with none other than his iconic part in the song.

The suggestion had come from Seungkwan, who barely managed to finish explaining the idea before the others began nodding fervently. Mingyu, ever the ringleader, gestured for them to form a quiet procession as they crept down the hallway, their voices hushed but full of excitement.

[SEVENTEEN’s group project]

When they reached DK’s door, their giddiness was barely contained. They exchanged hurried glances and silently counted down, their suppressed laughter threatening to give them away. Then, as if on cue, they burst into the room, flinging the door open and flipping on the lights.

The sudden brightness illuminated DK, who was buried under a thick duvet, his head barely visible. Startled by the commotion, his eyes shot open as the group launched into a raucous rendition of his signature lines. Their voices filled the room, loud and off-key, the chaos amplified by the cameramen who rushed in behind them to capture the moment.

[?]

DK sat upright, his hair tousled and his expression a mix of confusion and grogginess as he tried to process the unexpected intrusion. His wide-eyed gaze darted from face to face, lingering on the cameras before landing on PD Na, who was watching the scene unfold with a satisfied grin.

[Opened my eyes and SEVENTEEN is doing a show]

It took a few seconds for the realization to sink in, but once it did, DK’s confusion gave way to an enthusiastic gasp. His initial shock melted into pure delight as he kicked off his blankets and leaped out of bed, instantly joining the infectious energy of the group.

[Person who dances the second he woke up]

Now fully awake, DK seemed more than ready to take on the task of waking up the rest of the members. He quickly fell into step with the others, his cheerful demeanor adding to the boisterous atmosphere. The group, now six strong, made their way back into the hallway, their voices echoing as they brainstormed their next target and method of attack. PD Na and S.Coups followed at a leisurely pace, watching the chaos unfold with a sense of pride, knowing their plan was moving along flawlessly.

The group’s energy remained unwavering as they decided to tackle the next member on their list: Woozi.

Their excitement had grown to a fever pitch, and they eagerly followed PD Na, who was more than happy to play along with their antics. At their insistence, PD Na called Woozi, imitating the stern tone of their manager to catch him off guard. The members huddled around the doorway, muffling their laughter as they listened to the one-sided conversation that echoed faintly from within the room.

When the door finally swung open, they tiptoed inside, stifling their giggles as they took in the sight before them. Woozi lay on his bed, fully dressed, sprawled atop the neatly made covers. His small frame seemed even smaller against the pristine bedding, and the absurdity of the scene sent the group into loud fits of laughter.

[Sleeping on top of his covers]

Woozi stirred at the sound of their snickers, his eyes fluttering open, confusion etched across his face. His gaze landed on PD Na first, and a slow wave of realization washed over him as he took in the rest of the members and the cameramen who had poured into his room.

Barely giving him a moment to process, the group decided to keep the momentum going, urging him to join them as they moved on to their next target: Wonwoo.

The members practically bounced down the hall, despite their shock, their enthusiasm undiminished as they burst into the next room.

Inside, Wonwoo was a stark contrast to Woozi’s neat appearance. He was shirtless, still half-buried under a mound of blankets, his glasses nowhere to be found. The members erupted into laughter at the sight, their teasing filling the air as they rummaged through his things to hand him a shirt and his glasses.

[Mingyu’s t-shirt]

Wonwoo sat up slowly, blinking at them through a haze of grogginess. His confusion deepened as he spotted the cameras, and it wasn’t until PD Na began explaining the situation that understanding dawned on him.

As the explanation unfolded, the members couldn’t resist poking fun at the magazine cover that sat prominently displayed on the nightstand next to Wonwoo’s bed. The image of his own face staring back at him, perfectly styled and serious, stood in humorous contrast to his current disheveled state.

Their teasing grew louder, and even Wonwoo couldn’t help but crack a sleepy smile as he quickly pulled himself together to join the chaos.

With two more members now in tow, the group’s numbers swelled, and their energy became even more contagious as they prepared to wake the remaining members. The hallway seemed to come alive with their laughter and hushed planning, the anticipation for what lay ahead driving them forward with unrelenting excitement.

The next stop was Jun’s room, and as the group gathered in the hallway outside his door, there was a noticeable pause. PD Na hesitated, his usual confidence briefly faltering.

Jun was one of the two members he had spun a fabricated tale about, concocting a fake show with The8 that neither of them would actually be attending.

Breaking the news to Jun, especially in his groggy, just-woken-up state, was a challenge PD Na wasn’t particularly eager to face. Still, with the momentum building, the group decided to press forward, pushing the door open quietly to keep the element of surprise.

The room was dark and still, save for the faint outline of Jun resting peacefully. A simple flick of the light switch was all it took to stir him. His eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the brightness, and for a moment, he seemed caught in a buffering loop, his mind attempting to catch up with the scene before him.

[Buffering]

The members stood scattered around the room, their energy barely contained as they suppressed laughter at his dazed expression. PD Na stepped forward, his demeanor unusually cautious as he began explaining the truth.

Despite the initial apprehension, Jun took the news remarkably well. His expression shifted from confusion to amusement, and there was even a hint of relief as he processed that the entire group would be going together.

The thought of being part of a team effort, rather than separated into a fictional schedule, seemed to sit well with him. Soon, he was out of bed and ready to join the growing crowd in the hallway.

Next on the list was Vernon’s room, which proved to be the most challenging one yet. As they approached, muffled sounds from within suggested that Vernon was still awake.

The group exchanged amused glances, already sensing that this might not go as smoothly as the previous attempts. True to their instincts, Vernon was less than enthusiastic when they tried to enter. He was immediately suspicious, assuming it was some elaborate prank, and flatly refused to let them in.

It was Seungkwan who took it upon himself to handle the situation. He stepped into the room alone, the door clicking shut behind him.

The rest of the group waited anxiously in the hallway, straining to hear the muffled conversation that followed. After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open, and Seungkwan emerged, gesturing for the others to follow. Vernon’s reluctance was still evident as they entered, hs entire body hidden beneath the covers.

[Shy]

The reason for Vernon’s hesitance became clear almost immediately. He mentioned the state he was in. He hadn’t even bothered to remove his makeup from the concert the previous night, and his face still bore the smudged remnants of eyeliner and foundation. He was dressed in nothing but the hotel robe, and his room, though not particularly messy, lacked the organized chaos that usually defined him.

His protests were met with teasing laughter as the group handed him a change of clothes, urging him to get ready while PD Na explained the situation.

Eventually, Vernon’s resistance melted away, replaced by resigned amusement. Once dressed and up to speed, he joined the group as they moved on to their next target, their numbers now swelling with each successful “recruitment.”

The hallway buzzed with their collective energy, each new addition fueling the excitement as they prepared to wake the remaining members.

The group approached Jeonghan’s room, in anticipation. Jeonghan was known among them for being a sensitive sleeper, the kind who woke up at the faintest disturbance. Armed with their new “manager” strategy, they gestured for PD Na to lead the charge. Slowly, the door creaked open, and the dim light from the hallway cast faint shadows inside.

The second PD Na stepped in and called out for him, his voice mimicking a manager’s authoritative tone, Jeonghan shot up, startling awake. He blinked rapidly, his expression a mixture of confusion and alertness, his disoriented gaze darting around the room as he processed the situation. The unexpected voice of a “manager” telling him it was time to go seemed to short-circuit his usual groggy wake-up routine.

The members, unable to contain themselves, pushed into the room, laughter erupting as they turned on the lights. Jeonghan, still halfway out of his bed, froze for a moment, his hand brushing through his disheveled hair as he spotted PD Na standing by the door.

[The little mermaid]

Realization dawned on him, and the ever-quick-witted Jeonghan smoothly played along, causing the room to burst into louder laughter. His dry humor cut through the sleepy atmosphere like clockwork, instantly reminding everyone why he was so good at these impromptu situations.

The teasing escalated when someone spotted a familiar glossy magazine cover perched beside Jeonghan’s neatly organized bedside. There it was: a striking image of Jeonghan himself, staring confidently from the front page of his recent cover shoot.

The group erupted into another round of laughter, poking fun at the fact that, even in his sleep, Jeonghan was surrounded by his own brilliance. He remained unbothered by their antics, firing off deadpan retorts that only made them laugh harder.

Despite just being woken up, Jeonghan moved with an effortless composure, already one step ahead of everyone in his usual laid-back yet sharp manner. He joined the growing crowd without resistance, adding his own sarcastic flair to the chaos.

The group lingered in Jeonghan’s room for a while, the energy still vibrant as they reflected on the chaos of waking up their bandmates. Seated on the bed and scattered around the room, their conversations gradually shifted to planning their next move.

“Wait, how many do we have right now?” PD Na asked, his gaze scanning the members. His attempt to count them was met with various half-hearted attempts to stand still, though none were successful.

There were twelve of them in total, which left only two more members unaccounted for.

“There’s Minghao and Jiyeon left,” Hoshi pointed out. The others murmured in agreement, their focus sharpening now that the next targets were clear.

[12 out of 14 members]

“Let’s wake up Jiyeonie noona first,” Seungkwan declared with conviction.

“Right. Let’s leave Minghao huyng last. Noona first,” Dino agreed with a firm nod.

“Luna? Alright. I’m still trying to build up the courage to face The8,” PD Na admitted with a sheepish laugh.

His confession caused a ripple of laughter to spread through the room. Jeonghan, however, tilted his head in confusion, clearly out of the loop.

“You know, The8… him going with Jun…” Mingyu began to explain, gesturing vaguely as he searched for the right words.

“That’s this,” Woozi interjected dryly, saving Mingyu from further struggle.

Jeonghan gasped theatrically, his body falling on his bed as if he’d been personally betrayed. “I was so jealous,” he admitted, drawing a round of chuckles from the others.

“We’re still thinking about what to tell Minghao,” Mingyu added, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Let’s worry about that later,” Seungkwan interjected, his voice laced with urgency. “We have to face another big problem first.”

PD Na turned to Seungkwan, his brows furrowing as confusion clouded his expression. “What?”

“Waking up noona,” Seungkwan said, the words chorusing with Jeonghan, who echoed with, “Waking up Jiyeonie.”

The rest of the members immediately broke into laughter, nodding in agreement. Their collective understanding of what lay ahead was almost palpable.

“Aigo-ya…” Joshua chuckled, shaking his head.

[Is it that serious?]

“Why?” PD Na asked, his confusion deepening as he glanced from one amused face to another.

“Let’s just say that if you want to be cussed at in both Korean and English, then you should wake up Jiyeonie noona,” Seungkwan explained, his words causing a fresh wave of laughter to erupt. Nods and murmurs of agreement rippled through the group.

[Can’t wait]

“Really? She’ll be that mad at me?” PD Na asked, his voice tinged with nervous curiosity.

“No. She’ll be mad for a few seconds only,” S.Coups reassured him, leaning on his crutches.

“She’ll get over it quickly,” Wonwoo added with a small shrug.

“Jiyeonie prioritizes her sleep,” Mingyu pointed out with a chuckle.

“Na PD…” DK laughed, pointing sympathetically at him as if to preemptively console him for what he was about to endure.

“She sets an alarm for everything, and she’s very disciplined. So she’ll wake up if needed, but… she has no reason to wake up this early,” Jeonghan explained, his words trailing off into a soft chuckle.

“You’re sure she’ll be asleep, right?” PD Na’s hesitant expression did not go unnoticed.

“She will be sleeping a hundred percent.” Jeonghan nodded.

“She will also cuss us out a hundred percent.” Mingyu chuckled.

[Prediction]

“Let’s just go. We’ll figure it out,” Seungkwan declared, his mock exasperation earning him a few chuckles as he waved everyone to start moving.

“Alright…” PD Na agreed reluctantly, pushing himself to move as the group began to shuffle out of Jeonghan’s room.

“Jiyeonie’s room is next to mine,” Jeonghan said, allowing Seungkwan to pin a mic to his shirt as they prepared to leave. He chuckled softly as he joined the others heading out. “I have plans when I go back. I guess that’s all a lie,” Jeonghan quipped, earning a few chuckles from the members around him.

[Lies everywhere]

“I was worried yesterday,” he continued, his tone thoughtful for a moment before his expression turned deadpan. “Guys, is the typhoon… a lie too?” Jeonghan asked his joke causing S.Coups and Seungkwan to burst out laughing as they made their way out of the room.

[Doesn't know who to trust]

The atmosphere shifted slightly as they approached the room next to Jeonghan’s. The animated energy was replaced by a noticeable hesitation, with the group slowing their pace.

[Terrified]

“You guys…” PD Na began, chuckling nervously as he noticed their hesitation. “What happened?”

“No one wants to go in,” S.Coups explained with a chuckle, leaning casually on his crutches at the back of the group.

“Na PD… fighting!” Dino whispered with a mischievous grin, his words earning quiet chuckles from the rest of the group.

“You can do it!” DK chimed in, his encouragement was lighthearted but clearly teasing.

“I… don’t know… do I just go in?” PD Na asked, his uncertainty evident as he eyed the door.

Jeonghan stepped forward gently, placing himself in front of PD Na with a quick yet firm interjection. “No, no, no. I’ll go check on her first. You guys follow,” he said calmly, his hand reaching out to press against the door to Luna’s room.

[Leads the gameplan]

His tone left little room for argument, and the members exchanged subtle nods, understanding his intention without question.

“Alright. You go first, we’ll follow behind you,” Seungkwan agreed, giving Jeonghan a light nudge toward the door, an almost conspiratorial smile playing on his lips.

PD Na blinked, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Why Jeonghan?” he asked, his gaze flicking between the members, clearly puzzled.

There was a brief, wordless exchange among the members— a series of knowing looks and slight smirks that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.

Finally, Seungkwan broke the silence, his voice matter-of-fact but laced with humor. “He’s the least likely to get cussed at.”

[Benefits]

The room filled with soft chuckles as Seungkwan handed Jeonghan the master key. With a quiet nod of thanks, Jeonghan carefully unlocked the door and pushed it open just enough to slip inside.

The dim light of the room revealed little at first, just the vague outline of the bed in the center. The rest of the group— PD Na, the crew, and the members— lingered near the door, waiting for Jeonghan’s signal before entering.

As Jeonghan moved closer to the bed, his steps were slow and deliberate, his gaze softening as he caught sight of the lump beneath the duvet— a clear indication that Luna was still deeply asleep. Her breathing was even, the covers rising and falling gently.

From the door, Mingyu’s quiet whisper broke the stillness. “Cute,” he giggled, prompting a few amused chuckles from the others.

Jeonghan crouched down beside the bed, his movements fluid and unhurried, as though not to disturb even the air around her. His hand reached out to gently caress her back through the duvet. “Nana-ya,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but tender, like a breeze brushing against her dreams.

Luna remained unmoving, her face still buried against the pillow, utterly undisturbed by the soft call. Her features, peaceful and relaxed, held Jeonghan’s attention for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze lingering as if memorizing every detail.

[Sleeping beauty]

From the door, S.Coups leaned slightly toward PD Na and whispered, “She’s the complete opposite of Jeonghan when it comes to sleeping, really.”

PD Na’s curiosity was piqued. “Really?”

“Jeonghannie is a sensitive sleeper,” S.Coups explained with a small grin, “Jiyeonie… can sleep through an apocalypse.”

Jeonghan, oblivious to their conversation, lowered his head closer to Luna’s ear. “Nana-ya…” he whispered again, his voice a fraction more insistent but still gentle.

When there was no response, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her cheek, a fleeting gesture of affection hidden safely from the cameras in the dim light. His hand moved to her hair, his fingers brushing through it delicately, coaxing her awake.

This time, Luna stirred slightly, her face scrunching up into a small pout as a faint hum escaped her lips. Her eyes remained shut, her body shifting just enough to show she was on the edge of waking.

[Shuffle… shuffle… shuffle]

Jeonghan turned to the others, his expression calm but subtly signaling for them to approach. With a collective nod, the group began to inch into the room, their steps quiet but filled with anticipation.

Dino, perhaps out of instinct or a moment of misplaced confidence, reached for the light switch near the door and flicked it on.

The sudden brightness flooded the room, instantly halting everyone in their tracks. Dino froze, his hand still on the switch, his face a mix of panic and realization as the members turned to him in unison.

Jeonghan’s wide eyes snapped toward them, the incredulous look on his face enough to send a ripple of suppressed laughter through the group.

[Why would you do that?]

“Ya!” Seungkwan whisper-yelled, his hand smacking the back of Dino’s head lightly.

“She’s gonna kill us,” Mingyu muttered through a whisper-laugh, shaking his head.

“I realized the second I turned it on,” Dino admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

The sudden light had done its job— because the only thing Luna hates more than being woken up is being woken up by turning on the lights.

From under the duvet, Luna shifted again, this time with more intention. Though her eyes remained shut, her mouth opened, and her groggy voice cut through the tension. “What the fuck are you fuckers up to?” she muttered groggily, her tone laced with annoyance, the curse drawing a mix of sheepish chuckles and mock-cringes from the members.

[Prediction was correct]

A few covered their mouths, trying not to laugh too loudly, while PD Na stood on the other side of the bed, equal parts amused and shy at the unexpected situation.

Luna’s reaction, though predictably fiery, had everyone barely holding back laughter as they waited for her to fully wake up.

Jeonghan still crouched beside Luna’s bed, remained calm and patient as he softly called out again, “We need to go, Nana-ya.” His voice was as gentle as a feather, coaxing her out of her slumber without startling her.

Under the duvet, Luna stirred slightly, her face scrunching into a small frown. Her voice, muffled by the pillow, came out groggy and laced with annoyance. “I’m not in the mood for your guys’ games. Go where?” she muttered, clearly thinking she was being teased— technically, she wasn’t wrong.

On her other side, PD Na, now standing awkwardly by the right side of her bed, decided to intervene, his voice breaking the soft tension. “Remember, this was part of the promise, Luna,” he said, his tone calm yet prompting.

The reaction was immediate.

Even though her eyes remained closed, Luna’s eyebrows furrowed deeply at the unfamiliar voice.

Slowly, she turned to her right, her sleepy brain struggling to register who it was. Squinting as she opened her eyes, she saw a figure she vaguely recognized, but her grogginess mixed with her expectation to see Jeonghan left her disoriented.

[Peakaboo]

Her heart raced at the sight of what her half-asleep mind processed as a stranger hovering near her bed.

Without hesitation, Luna’s hand darted out, grabbing her phone from the pillow beside her. With as much force as she could muster in her half-conscious state, she weakly flung it at the unfamiliar figure— PD Na.

The startled squeal that escaped her lips was cute but tinged with genuine alarm as she instinctively threw herself to her left side, where Jeonghan was still crouched. The sudden movement caught Jeonghan off guard, but his reflexes kicked in, and he quickly caught her as she practically fell into his arms.

[Bunny hopped off the bed]

“Whoa!” Jeonghan exclaimed softly as he absorbed the impact, the two of them toppling slightly before landing on the floor with a muted thud.

Luna buried her face against Jeonghan’s neck, her arms wrapping tightly around him as though he were her lifeline. His laughter was low and comforting as he adjusted his position to hold her securely, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other hand soothingly caressed her back.

Jeonghan placed a hand at the back of her neck, gently cradling her. “Jiyeon-ah, are you okay?” he asked, his voice full of affection as he whispered into her ear.

Luna let out a small whine, her voice muffled against Jeonghan’s shoulder but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Who was that?”

[It’s PD Na]

The room, already tense with suppressed laughter, burst into chuckles at her adorably dramatic reaction.

S.Coups was the first to speak, his laugh hearty as he called out, “Ya! Bae Jiyeon, are you okay?”

“Oh no, noona…” Seungkwan chuckled, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and worry.

“What was that?” Jun added, shaking his head, his grin wide as he leaned against the foot of the bed.

Dokyeom, ever the empath but unable to hold back his laughter, pointed an accusing finger at PD Na. “You scared her!” he said, still chuckling as PD Na stood there, looking thoroughly sheepish with Luna’s phone now in his hands.

“Noona! Noona, are you okay?” Dino called out, concern lacing his voice even as he laughed. He and Mingyu quickly moved to where Jeonghan was still holding Luna protectively.

Mingyu crouched down, a teasing smile on his face as he gently reached for Luna, who remained glued to Jeonghan’s neck. “Lulu-ya… what was that?” he asked, his tone lighthearted as he carefully slipped his hands under her arms. With little to no effort, he lifted her off Jeonghan and placed her back onto the bed.

Luna, now fully awake and fully embarrassed, immediately covered her face with her hands, groaning softly. The room filled with laughter again, the members clearly enjoying the unexpected chaos.

Dokyeom, Mingyu, Dino, and Jeonghan were quick to move. Noticing that Luna was only wearing an oversized sweater and shorts, all four men instinctively reached for the duvet, pulling it up to cover her bare legs. Jeonghan was the last to step back, his hands lingering for a second longer to tuck the blanket around her gently.

With her face still buried in her hands, Luna’s hair fell forward in a curtain, shielding her flushed cheeks from view.

Hoshi, sitting casually at the foot of her bed, chuckled softly, his laughter infectious as he reached over and gave her head a gentle pat. “That was amazing. That was the best one,” he said, still grinning as his hand lingered for a moment, ruffling her hair lightly before retreating.

[She wins a the best reaction]

Nearby, PD Na, who had been watching the entire scene unfold with a mix of guilt and amusement, took a careful step toward her. His expression softened, and he spoke in a deliberately slow and calming voice, clearly hoping to avoid startling her again. “Luna-ya… it’s PD Na,” he said gently, his tone almost apologetic.

The members burst into laughter at his cautious approach, some doubling over at how timid PD Na had suddenly become.

Luna peeked out from between her fingers, her eyes narrowing slightly as she turned her head toward the sound of his voice.

When she finally saw him standing there, her embarrassment flared anew. Realization dawned on her face as she took in his familiar features, and she quickly glanced up, her gaze darting to the foot of her bed, where the members were gathered, and then toward the cameras and crew positioned behind them.

Her mortification deepened. With a soft groan, she buried her face even further into her knees, muffling a string of unintelligible words as the laughter around her grew louder.

“Jiyeonie, are you okay?” DK asked through his chuckles, leaning forward slightly as if to gauge her reaction.

Luna lifted her face just enough to let her voice be heard. Her tone was dry, laced with her signature deadpan humor. “Next time, just send me an email,” she muttered, her delivery so perfectly timed it sent the entire room into another fit of laughter.

“What do I do?,” Mingyu said, clutching his stomach. “Shes so cute, she’s killing me.”

Woozi smirked, shaking his head as he muttered, “I can’t believe her.”

Still hiding her face, Luna’s shoulders shook slightly, a small laugh escaping her lips despite her obvious embarrassment. After a moment, she seemed to steel herself. Slowly, she lifted her head from her knees, turning to face the team and the cameras.

Despite the way her messy hair framed her face in a halo of chaos and the obvious signs of sleep still lingering in her expression, she radiated a natural beauty that seemed effortless.

[Sleeping beauty pt. 2]

“Aigo, pretty… you’re pretty,” Wonwoo remarked simply, nodding as if stating a universal truth.

“How annoying,” Joshua chimed in, his dry humor adding to the hilarity of the moment.

The room erupted into laughter again as Luna sighed, her lips quirking up in a reluctant smile. She turned her attention to PD Na, who still stood nearby, her hair still falling messily around her face. “Hello,” she said politely, bowing her head slightly.

PD Na returned her bow, his own smile sheepish as he chuckled lightly. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, holding out her phone, which he had retrieved from the floor after the earlier chaos.

Luna accepted it, her fingers curling around the device as she glanced up at him. Without missing a beat, she deadpanned, “I’m not. You scared me.” Her delivery was sharp and quick, causing another round of laughter to ripple through the room.

The fact that she was referring to her earlier attempt at self-defense with the phone only made it funnier.

As the laughter died down, Luna turned toward the cameras. Shyness flickered across her face as she dipped her head slightly in acknowledgment, offering the crew a small, polite bow.

Then, as if seeking refuge, she turned back toward Jeonghan, her back to the cameras and the rest of the team.

Luna’s gaze met his, wide and pleading. She didn’t say a word, but the look she gave him spoke volumes. Jeonghan, ever perceptive, understood immediately what she was asking of him.

Without hesitation, he reached out, his fingers brushing gently against her hair as he tucked a few stray strands behind her ears. His movements were deliberate and tender, his touch careful as he made sure she looked presentable.

“Thank you,” Luna muttered softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced at him briefly, her gratitude evident in her expression before she turned back to face the cameras.

Lifting her hand in a small, shy wave, Luna tried to smile through her lingering embarrassment. “‘Noona, you’re so pretty~’,” Dino sang teasingly from the foot of the bed, drawing out the words in a playful tone.

He was immediately joined by Seungkwan, Dokyeom, and Hoshi, who harmonized in mock unison, their voices loud and exaggerated. “‘Crazy. Replay, replay, replay~!’”

Luna couldn’t help it. She giggled, the sound light and genuine as she raised her hand to cover her mouth. Her laughter only grew when Seungkwan deadpanned, “Aigo… look at her… as if she wasn’t cussing us out earlier.”

[The duality]

The room erupted into chaos again as the members doubled over, some clutching their stomachs while others pointed at Luna, teasing her. She shook her head, trying to contain her laughter as she hid her face in her hands once more, the warmth of the moment wrapping around her like a comforting blanket.

PD Na, still standing at the side of the room, cleared his throat and looked at Luna, his voice calm but slightly tinged with anticipation. “Luna, do you know why I am here?”

Without hesitation, Luna replied with clarity, her tone steady despite her earlier grogginess. “‘Youth Over Flowers,’” she said, fully understanding the situation now. Her expression shifted as she did a quick headcount of the room. Noticing something amiss, she tilted her head slightly. “Am I the last one? Is everyone here?”

Her eyes roamed the room until she realized someone was missing. “Where is Hao-hao?” she asked, her brows knitting together in mild confusion.

“He’s the last one because…” Seungkwan began, pausing mid-sentence to turn toward PD Na, leaving the explanation to him.

Luna’s gaze followed Seungkwan’s, settling on PD Na, who suddenly looked a little guilty. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What is it?” she asked, suspicion creeping into her tone.

“The show Minghao and I were going to…” Jun began hesitantly, his voice trailing off.

“…Is it this?” Luna finished, the realization hitting her like a wave. Multiple nods from the group confirmed her suspicions.

Her eyes widened as she turned to Jeonghan for confirmation, needing one last reassurance. When he nodded solemnly, she gasped softly, her voice tinged with disbelief. “It was fake?”

She turned back to PD Na, her tone playful yet accusatory. “Wah… that’s mean.”

Her response earned a chorus of chuckles from the members. Even Luna herself let out a small laugh, her incredulity giving way to amusement.

[Very mean]

“Aigo… Hao was looking forward to it the most,” she said with a pout, a hint of sympathy in her voice.

“That’s life,” Seungkwan said, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation.

“But what do we do with our title choreography? Our music video…” Hoshi asked, his voice trailing off as the realization dawned on him.

“Oh! We’ll probably do it there,” Seungkwan interjected, maintaining his exaggerated tone.

“They said that you are doing it there,” S.Coups announced, his voice cutting through the chatter with authority.

“Really?” Luna and Dokyeom said in unison, their surprise echoing off the walls.

“I don’t know. Whatever, let’s just go there and do it,” Hoshi said, dismissing the concern with a wave of his hand, his casual demeanor lightening the mood further.

“What about going into Minghao’s room clapping?” Joshua suggested, bringing the conversation back on track with a mischievous smile.

[Starts planning]

“‘Minghao-ya, congratulations’,” Joshua acted out, clapping his hands together dramatically.

“‘Congratulations! You’re going now!’” Seungkwan followed suit, his exaggerated tone and enthusiastic clapping drawing laughter from everyone.

“‘Have a safe trip.’ Yes,” Jeonghan added, his laughter ringing out as he joined in on the teasing.

“I feel bad,” Luna said with a pout, though the chuckle that followed betrayed her amusement.

“That’s how he won’t be disappointed,” Seungkwan reasoned, earning nods of agreement from the others.

“But you guys go first,” PD Na instructed, his tone shifting to something more logistical. He gestured toward the door before adding, “Yes, let’s go in there clapping instead.”

“Nice. Yes, let’s hide it,” Jeonghan agreed, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” PD Na said, ushering everyone toward the door. The group began to file out, their movements hushed yet buzzing with excitement.

Luna slowly swung her legs off the bed, hesitating as she pushed herself up. Her footing faltered, and she stumbled slightly, only to feel a steadying hand on her arm. Jeonghan was immediately at her side, his grip firm but gentle. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice low.

As she steadied herself, Jeonghan busied himself pinning a mic to her hoodie. His movements were careful, and precise, as he ensured everything was secure.

“This show is already too intense for me,” Luna muttered, making Jeonghan chuckle softly.

The two shared a brief glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

Luck had been on their side.

Only last night, Luna had been in Jeonghan’s room, the two of them planning to sleep together like they always did during these trips. But after her shower, she had ended up falling asleep in her own room due to exhaustion.

If the camera crew had caught them together, especially with their relationship still a secret from the public, it would have been a disaster. No one knew about them aside from their families and the members. That thought alone sent a quiet ripple of relief through both of them.

Jeonghan adjusted the mic one last time, smoothing the fabric of her hoodie as he stepped back. “Ready?” he asked softly.

Luna nodded, taking a deep breath. With one last glance at Jeonghan, she followed the group, the anticipation of what awaited them next sparking a mix of nerves and excitement within her.

The group moved together down the hall, their footsteps soft against the hotel carpet, yet their quiet murmurs of disbelief filled the air. Luna shuffled behind the others, her oversized sweater swaying slightly with her steps, the sleeves almost completely hiding her hands.

Noticing Wonwoo walking closest to her, she made her way to his side. Without a word, she reached out, gently grabbing his arm and lifting it slightly before squeezing herself into his side. Her arms wrapped securely around his waist, and she rested her face against his torso. Wonwoo caught off guard for only a second, smiled softly and let his arm fall around her shoulders, holding her close as they trailed behind the rest of the group.

“I’m so excited,” Seungkwan said, his voice brimming with anticipation.

Jun chuckled, still shaking his head in disbelief. “In the beginning, PD Na being in front of me… I didn’t believe it. ‘What? What is this?’”

“Really awesome, really,” Hoshi added, his tone filled with admiration.

“They fooled us all,” Dino chimed in from beside him.

“I didn’t expect it at all,” Hoshi admitted, nodding as if to emphasize his point.

“They fooled us all,” Dino repeated, laughing lightly as they finally reached Minghao’s door.

“No one can beat Jiyeonie,” S.Coups chuckled from the back, the comment earning a soft laugh from Luna, who felt Wonwoo gently squeeze her shoulder in silent agreement.

“I thought I was gonna get kidnapped for real,” Luna muttered, her tone dry but playful enough to make the group chuckle.

[Scared for her life]

“I talked about this with Dokyeom,” Jeonghan said as they stood just outside Minghao’s door.

“I know,” Dokyeom replied with a nod.

“At the concert,” Jeonghan clarified, turning slightly toward Luna.

“Really?” Luna asked, looking at both of them curiously.

“Really did. We talked about this,” Dokyeom confirmed with another nod.

The four of them— Jeonghan, Dokyeom, Luna, and Wonwoo— formed a small huddle just outside the group, their voices lowering slightly as they continued their conversation.

“When the rehearsal doors open, PD Na… he will be there,” Jeonghan said, gesturing with his hand as if painting a vivid image of the scenario.

“That would have been insane,” Luna replied, her voice filled with quiet awe as she ran her fingers through her hair.

“But wouldn’t it be better to have PD Na go first?” Hoshi suggested, glancing toward the still-closed door.

“Go ahead,” Seungkwan said, motioning toward PD Na with a smirk.

“No, no, no,” Jeonghan cut in, shaking his head. “Seungkwan, go first. ‘The8, safe travels,’” he suggested, imitating how Seungkwan might say it.

A beat passed before Jeonghan changed his mind entirely. “If people go in one at a time, it takes too much time. Let’s just go in together,” he concluded, his tone final but the quick shift earning laughter from everyone around him.

“What was that?” Luna giggled, glancing up at Dokyeom as she grabbed his hand, absentmindedly playing with his fingers.

“Didn’t his opinion change three times in one sentence?” PD Na asked, a chuckle escaping him as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Jeonghan is really flexible,” PD Na added, the comment prompting another round of chuckles.

“Let’s go,” Dino said, eager to move the plan along.

“Then… let’s say, ‘Yoo Yeon-Seok is here,’ and you come in,” Seungkwan suggested, pointing at Jeonghan with a mischievous grin.

“That’s too long. Too long,” Mingyu interjected, his practical side kicking in.

“Just clap and go in. Clap and go in,” Dino said, his tone straightforward as he waved a hand to dismiss any overcomplicated plans.

“Simple. Go simple,” Woozi added with a small nod of approval.

Seungkwan, unable to hide his mock exasperation, nodded his head dramatically before moving toward the door, master key in hand. The rest of the group fell silent, anticipation buzzing as they waited for him to unlock it.

Seungkwan pushed the door open with a dramatic flair, revealing Minghao’s dimly lit room. The members slowly trickled in, the quietness of the space amplifying their anticipation. It was serene, with only the sound of soft breathing breaking the silence.

Without hesitation, Seungkwan reached for the light switch and flicked it on. The sudden brightness filled the room, and he immediately began clapping loudly.

[Loud]

“Wow!” Joshua exclaimed.

“Congratulations!” Seungkwan cheered, his enthusiasm setting the tone as the others joined in, clapping and calling out in unison.

“The8, congratulations!” multiple voices chorused, their tone playful yet celebratory.

Luna stepped in last, her hand instinctively covering her mouth in second-hand embarrassment. “This is such a terrible way to wake up… it’s so loud,” she chuckled, shaking her head but clearly amused.

[The only one who feels bad]

On the bed, Minghao stirred, his movements sluggish as he sat up, squinting in confusion. His hair was tousled, and his expression was a mixture of grogginess and bewilderment.

“With PD Na’s choice…” Seungkwan began in a mock host-like voice, his hands gesturing theatrically.

Minghao’s gaze shifted, landing on PD Na standing amidst the group. He immediately bowed politely, his voice soft. “Oh, hello.”

The members burst into laughter at his innocent reaction.

“The8 is leaving!” Mingyu declared, jumping in to continue Seungkwan’s hosting act.

The room erupted into another round of applause as they surrounded the still-confused Minghao.

“Did you sleep well?” PD Na asked, his tone kind yet teasing.

“You need to wake up. You need to go with Jun,” Seungkwan said, tossing Minghao’s clothes toward the bed with a grin.

Still groggy and slightly disoriented, Minghao blinked at the clothing pile. “Wait. Put on something,” PD Na urged, gesturing toward Minghao, who was clearly still bare under the covers.

“Are we going now?” Minghao asked innocently, his voice laced with confusion as he tried to process what was happening.

Luna, standing between Dokyeom and Mingyu, couldn’t help but pout and chuckle. “Aigo-ya… what do we do?” she said softly, her eyes full of amusement.

“To be honest, Minghao… there’s something I need to apologize to you about…” PD Na began hesitantly, his tone turning more serious.

“What is it?” Minghao asked, his voice gentle as he looked at PD Na, his sincerity making Luna whisper under her breath, “What do I do? Hao’s so cute.”

PD Na hesitated again, his nervousness palpable. “Oh…”

[Hesitant]

“PD, you’re too hesitant,” Woozi interjected, laughing quietly as the others chuckled along.

Finally, PD Na gathered himself. “Minghao, to be honest… the thing that Jun and you are supposed to go to… th–that… was a lie.”

A heavy silence fell over the room as they all watched Minghao’s reaction. His gaze flickered between PD Na and the members, his expression blank as he began piecing everything together.

“All together?” he finally asked, his tone confused tentative yet starting to catch on.

“We are all going together,” PD Na confirmed, a smile creeping onto his face.

The members burst into laughter at Minghao’s expression. While he smiled back at them, it was clear his reaction was forced, his lips slightly stiff, and his eyes betraying the amused frustration he felt.

“That’s this,” PD Na continued, explaining the situation further as Minghao wordlessly and soundlessly clapped, his movements robotic.

“It’s fake… fake…” a couple of voices muttered together, the room filled with laughter as they teased him.

“No, no. It’s okay. It’s good,” Minghao finally said, smiling again as he reassured PD Na with a calm yet resigned tone.

“It’s okay, right? You are going. All together,” PD Na said, trying to soothe any lingering disappointment.

“It’s a good opportunity,” Minghao replied, but his words only made the group laugh harder at his attempts to stay positive.

Dokyeom and Mingyu, standing on either side of Luna, each grabbed one of her arms, pulling her toward them as they playfully hugged her and mock-cried.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no. Minghao cry, cry, cry,” they wailed dramatically, leaning against her for added effect.

[97z teasing 97z]

Luna grinned, her chuckle soft and affectionate. Being the oldest of the 97 line, this dynamic with Dokyeom and Mingyu— playful and chaotic— was something she was more than used to, especially since Minghao was the youngest among the four of them.

“Minghao, it’s… it’s okay, right?” PD Na asked again, still wanting to ensure there were no hard feelings.

“Oh, it’s good,” Minghao reassured with another smile.

“All together,” PD Na explained again, prompting Mingyu to burst out laughing.

“I like it. You can play together when we’re together,” Minghao said, his tone light but genuine as he started to relax.

“This is fun too,” Jeonghan added, nodding in agreement to lift Minghao’s spirits further.

“Right,” Luna said with a warm smile, her gaze soft as she looked at Minghao, knowing how much he cared about the fake show he was invited to.

The room had settled into a slightly calmer energy after the collective chaos of waking Minghao up. Members were sprawled across the space, sitting on chairs, couches, and even the floor, their voices buzzing with disbelief and excitement.

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, arms crossed, his tone still tinged with amazement as he said, “Wow, this is really awesome. Can’t imagine.”

“Really. Really,” Dokyeom chimed in, nodding emphatically.

Jeonghan’s eyes flickered to S.Coups, his curiosity piqued. “S.Coups, is that why you came?”

S.Coups, lounging near the door, shook his head with a small laugh. “I didn’t know either. I knew in the morning.” He paused for dramatic effect, then added, “Really, no one knew! PLEDIS or no one else knew!”

“PLEDIS didn’t know?” Jeonghan asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“No one knew at all,” S.Coups confirmed, shaking his head with conviction.

The group’s laughter and chatter gradually settled into a warm hum as they found comfortable spots in the room. Minghao, now fully clothed in casual but neatly assembled attire, stood near his bed.

Jeonghan broke the silence, clapping his hands together once before raising them in applause.

“The best,” Jeonghan said, his tone filled with genuine admiration as he gestured toward PD Na and his crew.

“Really, it’s amazing. ‘Youth Over Flowers’ really,” Dokyeom added, clapping as well. One by one, the other members followed suit, their collective applause filling the room with appreciation and acknowledgment.

Mingyu leaned back on the couch, his voice carrying a mix of disbelief and humor. “During my years as an idol… this much I was shocked…” He paused dramatically before reenacting his reaction, his face contorting in mock astonishment as he said, “‘Really?’”

Luna, sitting on the same couch between Mingyu and Jeonghan, nodded in agreement. “Me too,” she said simply, her voice soft but earnest, her expression mirroring the awe shared by everyone.

Finally, Minghao, who had remained quiet as he processed everything, spoke up. His tone was slightly incredulous as he voiced what had clearly been on his mind. “No, so… Jun and I… there’s no reason that we would go!”

[His true feelings come out]

The members burst into laughter once again, their reactions ranging from amused chuckles to loud guffaws at Minghao’s candid remark.

“Minghao, why is there no way you would go? I think you’re cute,” PD Na teased, his tone playful yet sincere.

Jun, who had been quietly observing from the side, chimed in to reassure Minghao. “Minghao, it’s okay. They can quickly make one,” he said, referring to the idea of creating a show just for the two of them.

“Sorry. I had to do that to fool you guys,” PD Na explained, his voice carrying a note of apology. He glanced at Minghao before adding with a small smile, “Let’s go and slowly talk about it. Jun, you, and I will sit down and talk about these problems.”

The members erupted into laughter again, the absurdity of the situation making the moment even more lighthearted.

“Yes. Have a time where you talk honestly with PD,” Hoshi added, his words delivered with a mischievous grin that only amplified the laughter around them.

The room had settled into a buzz of excitement and disbelief as the members processed their situation. PD Na took a moment to look around at the group, a small smile playing on his lips. He clapped his hands once, drawing their attention, and began, “Okay, everyone is together, right?”

“Yes,” came the collective response from SEVENTEEN, their voices blending together.

“First…” PD Na trailed off as he surveyed the room, his gaze lingering on the energy of the group before he continued, “SEVENTEEN is so cool.” His tone was filled with genuine admiration.

“Really cool,” Dokyeom agreed immediately, his hand gesturing toward the staff and crew standing at the back of the room.

“But Na Young-seok is really awesome,” Seungkwan interjected, his voice filled with both humor and sincerity as he complimented the renowned PD.

“Na Young-seok is really awesome,” Dokyeom echoed, nodding in agreement.

Hoshi, sitting cross-legged on the floor, chimed in, “I think it’s the first time where I got fooled like this.” His words drew a chorus of agreements from the other members, nodding and murmuring in unison.

“I really was fooled, really. Really,” Dokyeom emphasized, his tone bordering on dramatic as he repeated himself for effect.

“To be honest, we… we didn’t expect it at all,” Seungkwan admitted, glancing toward the staff and then back to PD Na.

“Since we know all of our schedules. I know we don’t have a lot of free time,” Woozi added, his practical tone emphasizing how genuinely surprised they were.

Hoshi leaned forward, his hands gesturing animatedly as he explained, “We need to practice for our title track in Korea, and the following week we need to go to Budapest to film the music video. We need to practice our choreography no matter what.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “We really have no time.”

“Right. We’re booked for the year,” Luna added, her laughter blending with the group’s energy.

“That’s why we are fooled,” Woozi concluded, crossing his arms as if putting the situation into logical terms.

PD Na tilted his head slightly and asked, “Since the schedule wouldn’t work, you thought, ‘This isn’t going to be easy’?”

“One day,” Mingyu and Luna answered in unison, their voices overlapping in perfect sync.

“‘We will go one day,’” Woozi repeated, almost as if summing up their collective assumption.

“We didn’t expect it to come this soon,” Luna said.

“I was looking at it after November,” Hoshi said, nodding to himself as he thought about how far ahead they had planned in their minds.

“I also thought of winter,” Dokyeom added, his tone thoughtful.

Considering their packed schedules, one of PD Na’s staff members finally spoke up, “Considering that too. We freed space for a week.”

The members marveled at this revelation, their reactions filled with amazement.

“We were worried about that too,” Seungkwan admitted, his voice softer now, a hint of appreciation in his tone.

“And… all the schedules that are planned for next week are fake,” the staff member continued, her words hanging in the air like a bombshell.

The reaction was immediate and explosive. “What?!” came the collective shout of disbelief from all the members, their voices layered with shock.

[Culture shock]

“All the dance practice and those schedules…” the staff member started to clarify.

“All fake,” S.Coups finished for her, his tone firm but still incredulous.

“Really?” Joshua asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Luna deadpanned with perfect comedic timing, “Wah, Jeonghannie’s parents and my parents invited the two of us for dinner next week… is that also fake?”

[Not that]

Her tone and expression were so straight-faced that the room erupted into laughter. PD Na pointed at her, laughing along with everyone else as if to say he appreciated her dry humor.

“All schedules up until the 15th are fake,” the staff member clarified again, her tone steady but amused.

“Ah… our parents too,” Luna and Jeonghan chorused, their voices perfectly synchronized and their expressions matching in faux-seriousness. This set off another wave of laughter throughout the room.

“We don’t need to worry about anything!” Seungkwan exclaimed, his tone suddenly filled with relief as he processed the implications.

Jeonghan, ever the quick-witted one, added, “We don’t have any dances in our music video then.”

“They said you’re doing it in Budapest,” S.Coups immediately corrected, his expression amused as he shot down Jeonghan’s momentary excitement.

“Ah… at Budapest,” Jeonghan said in defeat, nodding slowly as if resigning himself to the inevitable.

[Still doing that though]

S.Coups couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s short-lived excitement, while Luna pointed at Jeonghan, chuckling at how quickly his optimism had been crushed.

“Ah, we will do it,” Seungkwan said as he shook his head eagerly, his hands flailing in delight. “Whatever! I don’t need to worry! I’m so happy!”

Woozi crossed his arms and leaned back slightly, his analytical mind already piecing together the elaborate ruse. “We got fooled in a very systematic way,” he noted, his tone laced with grudging admiration.

PD Na grinned, gesturing towards the group. “Because if we don’t do this, we thought you would suspect it.”

“Yes, yes,” Seungkwan said quickly, nodding along in agreement.

Minghao, sitting cross-legged with his arms draped over his knees, finally spoke up, his expression still one of mild disbelief. “But you really fooled us all. I didn’t even imagine this.”

One of the staff chimed in, “But Director Shim Jae Hyun worked really hard.”

“Wow, he’s a scary person,” Mingyu said, his eyes darting towards the mentioned director, whose quiet demeanor betrayed no hint of spoilers.

“Yes, he’s a scary person,” Woozi echoed, nodding in agreement.

“To be honest, he’s a liar. A liar,” Mingyu added with exaggerated emphasis, his voice light with humor.

Luna, seated beside Mingyu, laughed at his dramatics before reaching out to lightly smack his back. “Stop teasing the poor man,” she teased.

The laughter in the room was infectious, but PD Na clapped his hands again to regain their attention. “I am going to make some announcements, and we can talk about other things later,” he stated firmly, his tone signaling that he was moving forward.

The room quieted down, the members’ curiosity palpable. “Good news,” PD Na began, his smile widening as he continued, “I’m sure there are people who heard before. Where is the place that we’re going to vacation at?”

“Rome?” Minghao guessed, tilting his head.

“Yes…” PD Na confirmed, drawing gasps of delight and murmurs of excitement from the group.

“Wow, really?” Luna said, her eyes widening with enthusiasm.

“Oh my goodness… what?” Jeonghan exclaimed, leaning over to lazily hug Luna and Mingyu in his excitement.

“We are going to Italy,” PD Na announced officially, his tone almost teasing as the room erupted into cheers and clapping.

“Wow, really crazy!” Seungkwan said, his voice nearly a shout.

“Who has been to Italy?” PD Na asked, scanning the room.

“None, none,” Hoshi and Woozi answered in unison, their voices overlapping.

“It’s all our first times,” Woozi added, his tone thoughtful.

“That’s why we picked it,” another producer interjected, nodding toward the group.

“We haven’t been to Europe either,” Seungkwan added, his voice tinged with anticipation.

“Aside from Jiyeonie, we haven’t been to Europe,” Woozi said, gesturing towards Luna who was born and raised in London, who nodded quietly.

“I’m really excited,” Luna admitted, her voice soft but sincere.

PD Na took a moment before continuing, his tone shifting to one of genuine warmth. “To be honest, SEVENTEEN has had a really packed schedule up to now. I know you had a really hard time. You must have had no time to rest at all… so, the concept of this Italy vacation is different from our usual ‘Youth Over Flowers’.”

The room grew quieter, the members listening intently.

“Our ‘Youth Over Flowers’, normally you suffer and go around, right? This is the complete opposite,” PD Na explained.

“All package?” Dokyeom guessed, his tone hopeful.

“All-inclusive package,” PD Na confirmed, his smile widening as the room erupted into marveling reactions.

“We prepared this. So, you just need to play. We searched and rented all places where we can play and enjoy. At breakfast, go visit places and eat delicious things. At dinner, we get together and play. We are going to spend a week like this,” PD Na explained, his hands gesturing to emphasize his point.

“Awesome! I am so excited!” Dino said, clapping his hands together.

“You all just think of it as your first vacation after debuting,” PD Na added, his voice warm and encouraging.

Luna gasped dramatically, clasping her hands together. “Wow, thank you…” she said before tilting her head slightly and adding, “but why don’t I believe you?”

[She’s quick]

The room erupted into laughter at her dry humor, while PD Na looked at her in mock shock, his expression one of exaggerated offense.

Luna smirked, leaning back in her seat. “It’s just… based from experience, PD Na and the word ‘easygoing’? They don’t really match.”

The members howled with laughter again, Seungkwan clapping his hands as tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

“We can believe this, right?” Woozi asked, chuckling as realization slowly dawned on him.

“You can trust me. You can trust this,” PD Na said, his laughter mingling with theirs as he attempted to reassure them.

“Really?” Luna said, playfully raising an eyebrow. “I’ll trust you when I don’t end up playing for money on this so-called vacation.”

[Spoilers]

The room dissolved into laughter once more, with PD Na pointing at her, shaking his head in amusement.

“Tell them that this is right. You can believe this,” PD Na finally said, turning to SEVENTEEN’s manager for backup, his voice laced with mock desperation.

The room slowly quieted after another wave of laughter died down. PD Na, ever the professional, seized the moment to continue. “So, we changed the title completely. The title is not ‘Youth Over Flowers’…” He paused, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s ‘NANA TOUR’.”

A few members repeated the title, the new name rolling off their tongues. “‘NANA TOUR’?” Dokyeom’s asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“‘NANA TOUR’…” Seungkwan echoed, testing the words with a furrowed brow before breaking into a smile.

Jeonghan, always quick to make a connection, turned to Luna, his face lighting up with mischief. He poked her cheek gently with his fingers, leaning in close. “‘NANA TOUR’,” he whispered, his voice soft but teasing.

[Nana in ‘NANA TOUR’]

Luna turned to him, scrunching her nose in mock annoyance before breaking into a smile. She shook her head lightly, knowing full well he was referring to the nickname he had always called her— Nana.

“Since our trip is an all-inclusive package, there’s nothing you need to prepare,” PD Na said confidently, as if expecting applause.

Instead, his statement was met with blank stares and an awkward silence. The members’ uncertainty and distrust were written plainly across their faces.

[Distrust]

Luna blinked, her hunch from earlier resurfacing with full force. She glanced at PD Na suspiciously, her arms crossing as if bracing for the inevitable twist.

“You don’t need your bag or anything else,” PD Na continued, undeterred. “The things you need are the clothes you’re wearing and a cellphone. You don’t even need your wallet.”

“Really?” Dokyeom asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and cautious hope.

Luna, unable to hold back, giggled softly in defeat, already envisioning the chaos that awaited them. “Aigo-ya…” she murmured under her breath, shaking her head.

“So, we are going to go like that,” PD Na declared. Then, leaning in slightly, he added eagerly, “The problem is that our package departure is a bit early…”

Luna narrowed her eyes at him, leaning forward. “Wow, you’re really scary,” she said, her tone half-joking but tinged with genuine concern.

Her comment earned another round of laughter from the members, with Woozi chuckling and nodding in agreement. “I’m saying that his eyes are scary,” he added, pointing toward PD Na with mock seriousness.

“Right?” Luna said, pointing toward Woozi who said, “I mean, if you look closely from here, it’s like I keep falling in there… like a black hole.”

“Kind of turned around,” Seungkwan deadpanned, his expression one of exaggerated concern.

The room burst into laughter again, the light-hearted teasing bouncing off PD Na, who joined in with a chuckle of his own.

“We are going to go. Going to go to Italy,” PD Na repeated, his voice louder to regain control of the group. “But the problem is that we have to go kind of early.”

The room collectively waited, a mix of uncertainty and amusement setting in.

“You guys are going to get dressed starting now, and in three minutes, meet at the host room,” PD Na announced, his tone firm but cheerful.

“What? Three minutes?” Luna said, chuckling at the absurdity of the demand while several members gasped in shock.

Jeonghan, always one to find the fun in chaos, covered his mouth with his hands in excitement. “This is so much fun,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

[Loving it]

“In three minutes?” Dokyeom repeated, his voice rising in pitch.

“Because you don’t need a bag or wallet. We have all your passports,” PD Na explained.

“I think I need to brush my teeth,” Hoshi said, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin.

“Can’t it be five minutes?” Luna asked, a teasing smile playing on her lips as she raised a hand like a student requesting extra time.

[Bargaining]

“Just put some clothes on and get your cellphones,” PD Na said, staying firm on his three-minute deadline.

“I can’t shower? Shower?” Mingyu asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Do it in three minutes,” Luna quipped, laughing as she added, “That’s what I’d call dedication.”

“Is there underwear in the package?” Dokyeom asked, his voice full of genuine concern.

“Everything!” PD Na assured them. “Just wear what you are wearing now, or you can change. You just need to come.”

“Yes, okay. Let’s hurry up and get ready,” Seungkwan said, already getting to his feet and rallying the group.

“It’s 6:20 a.m. right now… should we meet at 6:25?” PD Na asked.

“Yes!” Luna was the first to respond, her voice eager as she seemingly ignored the chaos looming ahead.

“6:23!” one of the staff corrected loudly, breaking the illusion of extra time.

Luna immediately pouted, turning toward the producer who had corrected PD Na. “Why did you correct him?” she asked, her tone light but full of mock betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” the producer said, chuckling at her expression.

Sighing dramatically, Luna slowly stood up, already following the chaos of thirteen men scrambling to get to their rooms.

The chaos that erupted in Minghao’s room was instant and electrifying. Members scrambled to exit, weaving around furniture and each other in a frenzy of hurried movement. Camera crew darted after them, capturing every frantic moment as they headed to their respective rooms to prepare for the three-minute challenge.

“It would be nice to go together at times like this,” Jeonghan’s voice carried through the room, calm amidst the madness. Luna, still standing near him, glanced over and saw him speaking casually to PD Na, who nodded and then excused himself.

Without missing a beat, Jeonghan’s hand blindly reached out, his fingers naturally finding and intertwining with Luna’s. It was such a habitual gesture that Luna barely registered it until their hands were fully linked.

“My cheetah pants…” Jeonghan chuckled, directing his comment to the camera trailing him.

Luna’s gaze dropped to his outfit— a pair of bold, cheetah-print shorts that looked entirely out of place amidst the chaos of their hurried preparations. She couldn’t help but grin. “It’s cute,” she said sincerely, her voice laced with affection.

Jeonghan, ever the playful spirit, tugged her toward the door. “Let’s go!” he said enthusiastically as he led them out of the room.

Once in the hallway, his excitement seemed to peak. “Hurray!” he exclaimed, his voice echoing as he began skipping down the corridor, still holding tightly onto Luna’s hand.

[Has the most energy out of the two]

Luna burst into laughter, the sound warm and genuine. “You like things like this,” she teased, watching as he practically bounced with energy.

[Bunnies hop, hop, hop]

“Oh, it’s nice,” Jeonghan admitted, his tone lighthearted as he glanced back at her. His joy was infectious, pulling a wider smile from Luna as they neared their destination.

When they reached the corner, Jeonghan and Luna turned right, finding their rooms right next to each other. As they stopped, Jeonghan released her hand for a moment, turning toward his camera with a cheeky grin. “I will come back safely,” he said with mock seriousness, saluting toward the lens.

Then, looking at Luna and nodding confidently, he added, “Three minutes is enough time.”

Luna shook her head with a soft chuckle, her skepticism evident. “It really isn’t,” she replied, her tone dry but amused as she opened the door to her room.

Their linked hands fell apart as they parted ways, each stepping into their respective rooms with their camera crew in tow. The hallway behind them remained abuzz with movement, but inside their rooms, the countdown to chaos had begun.

Luna took a deep breath as she closed the door to her room, the muffled sounds of the other members scrambling in the hallway barely registering in her ears.

Despite the whirlwind of chaos outside, her own calm and orderly surroundings were a stark contrast. Her room was spotless, everything neatly in its place.

Luna looked around and nodded, hyping herself up. “I can do this,” she said aloud, her voice steady as she turned toward her camera with a small smile. “I’ll brush my teeth first,” she decided, heading toward the sink with purpose.

[Hyped herself up]

The sound of water running filled the room as she grabbed her toothbrush, squeezing toothpaste onto it with practiced efficiency. Brushing her teeth quickly, Luna turned her head to scan the room, already mapping out her next steps. Her mental checklist came to life as she spotted her suitcase tucked neatly in the corner and her shoes lined up by the wall.

She worked swiftly, even as faint, muffled shouting from the hallway— likely Seungkwan or Dokyeom— momentarily distracted her. A small laugh escaped her. “It’s chaos out there,” she mumbled, half to herself.

After rinsing her mouth, Luna moved on to wash her face, splashing the cool water against her skin before quickly drying off with a towel. Her skincare routine followed— sped up drastically given the circumstances. As she patted her face with cream, she glanced at the camera. “Do you think PD Na will take my bag if I brought one? He will, right?” she mused, half-joking but with an edge of genuine concern.

[Yes he will]

Once done, she darted to her luggage, unzipping it with a determined motion. Her hands rifled through her neatly folded clothes until she found the perfect outfit.

Pulling out a lightweight white crochet cropped halter top and high-waisted blue jeans, she spoke again. “Italy will be hot, I’m sure… right?” she asked rhetorically, holding up the clothes to the camera. With a quick wave, she added, “I’ll go and change first,” before disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

A few minutes later, Luna emerged, the transformation complete. “Ta-dah!” she announced, spinning playfully for the camera. The cropped halter top fit perfectly, accentuating her figure without being over the top, and the jeans added a casual yet polished touch to the look.

[Fashionable as always]

She moved quickly to refold and pack her used clothes into her suitcase. The next step was grabbing her sneakers, socks, and slipping them on in record time. “They’ll bring my luggage back to Korea for me, right?” she asked absently, lacing her shoes tightly.

Without waiting for an answer, she pulled out a jacket— a simple, oversized piece that complemented her outfit— and shrugged it on.

“Pretty?” she asked, pausing in front of the mirror to assess herself. After a moment, she nodded in approval, grabbing her phone and slipping it into her pocket.

[Also true]

Her focus shifted suddenly. “Charger, charger… where’s my charger?” she muttered, darting around the room, her movements quick but not panicked. Opening drawers, checking the bedside table, and even peeking under the bed, she shook her head in confusion. “Did I leave it in Hannie’s room? I think I did,” she said, her voice rising slightly as realization struck.

Without hesitation, Luna left her room, her oversized jacket swishing around her as she darted down the hallway. “My charger! My charger is important,” she chanted in a sing-song voice, her steps light as she reached Jeonghan’s door.

Pushing it open slightly— it had been left ajar— she stepped inside.

Jeonghan was by the sink, toothbrush in hand, his voice muffled as he spoke to his camera. He turned his head slightly at the sound of her voice. “Hannie…” Luna called, scanning the room, her eyes darting from one corner to the next.

Jeonghan hummed in response, not stopping his brushing as he let her roam freely.

“Where’s my charger?” she asked, hands now on her hips as she glanced at him.

“Bedside table,” he answered through a mouthful of toothpaste, pointing lazily in the right direction before returning to his commentary with the camera.

Luna walked over, grabbing the charger and carefully wrapping the cord around her hand before slipping it into her jacket pocket. As she moved toward the door, she paused, catching Jeonghan mid-sentence. He had just swallowed the toothpaste and opened his mouth to continue speaking when she clicked her tongue in disapproval.

[Swallows]

Turning back, she crossed the room in a few steps and softly cupped his cheeks with her hand, squeezing them gently. Jeonghan blinked at her, amusement flashing in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow.

“You need to stop doing that. That’s not good for you, Han,” Luna scolded, her tone light but firm.

After Luna scolded Jeonghan for swallowing the toothpaste, he swallowed the laughter threatening to spill and quirked a brow at her, his voice smooth with mock innocence. “What? I’m just saving time. They say multitasking is a life skill, Nana-ya.” Jeonghan’s smirk deepened as he leaned a fraction closer, his tone turning deliberately playful before he added, “You know if you’re that curious, I can let you try. It’s minty fresh.”

[Toothpaste makes you act weirdly]

As he leaned forward slightly, as if to close the space between them, Luna immediately took a step back, her eyes widening in alarm. She raised her hands, palms facing him in a silent plea to stop, her expression a mix of amusement and panic. Without needing words, she darted her gaze toward the cameras capturing their every move, silently reminding him they weren’t exactly alone.

“I already know what toothpaste tastes like.” Luna said.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, clearly amused by her reaction, and straightened up again, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax,” he drawled, his voice low enough that it almost seemed meant for her alone. “I’m just kidding... I’m not sharing my toothpaste with you.”

Luna’s exasperated sigh and the slight roll of her eyes only made his grin grow wider as she spun on her heel, muttering something under her breath as she returned to her room.

“Cute,” she heard him say behind her as she stepped back into the hallway, ready to finish her preparations.

Luna reentered her room, her brows furrowed in concentration as she darted toward her belongings. Determined to make the most of her limited options, she began methodically stuffing the essentials into her pockets.

“Earphones are essential,” she muttered to herself, sliding them into her jean pocket with practiced ease.

She then moved to her bag, pulling out a compact pill organizer. “Vitamins are important… supplements…” she trailed off, her voice soft as she frowned at the assortment of items spread across her bed.

She hesitated, picking up a small tube of sunscreen and holding it up as if deliberating its importance. “What do I do about my skincare?” she whispered, her pout growing more pronounced as she glanced helplessly at the other bottles.

As if summoned by her quiet dilemma, the door to her room creaked open, and in sauntered Jeonghan. He was now dressed in the white shirt he was wearing earlier and black joggers, his relaxed demeanor amplified by the black cap perched on his head

However, it was the massive duffel bag slung over his shoulder that immediately caught Luna’s attention.

Jeonghan strode into the room confidently, dropping the oversized bag onto the floor with an audible thud before positioning himself beside her.

[The biggest bag he could find]

Luna blinked at him, then at the bag, before tilting her head incredulously. “PD Na said no bags… clearly, you’re not following instructions,” she said, crossing her arms as she looked up at him.

Jeonghan shrugged, utterly unbothered, before reaching over to grab her handbag from the corner of the room. He handed it to her without a word, then picked up the sunscreen and other skincare items she had been fretting over. Carefully, he began arranging them in his duffel bag, his movements deliberate and calm.

“What else do you need?” he asked, his tone casual, as though the cameras and the impending confiscation of their belongings didn’t exist.

Luna gaped at him. “Ya! He’s gonna take our bags,” she protested, though her voice wavered between amusement and disbelief.

Unfazed, Jeonghan moved to her luggage, unzipping it and selecting a few clothing items. He folded them neatly before tucking them into his bag as if they had all the time in the world.

“I’m thankful, but… what’s the point, honestly?” Luna chuckled, shaking her head as she grabbed her navy-blue Miu Miu cap and placed it snugly on her head. Despite Jeonghan’s quiet determination, she couldn’t help but feel skeptical.

Jeonghan straightened up, turning to face her with an easy smile. “The point,” he began, his voice steady and low, “is that we can at least try.” He lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant half-shrug, his gaze softening. “If it works, great. If it doesn’t, it’s fine. Either way, don’t worry.”

Luna bit her lip, her fingers fidgeting with the brim of her cap. “Are you sure?” she asked hesitantly, her pout returning.

Jeonghan’s expression didn’t falter. “I’m sure,” he said firmly, yet with a gentleness that made her feel oddly reassured. “Now, quickly— what else do you need? Put it in the bag before we run out of time.”

Luna glanced at the bed again, chewing on her lip as she picked up a small hairbrush and her portable battery. “Maybe this…” she said uncertainly, placing them in his outstretched hand.

“See? Easy,” Jeonghan said with a soft chuckle as he packed the items away. He gave her an encouraging nod. “Anything else?”

Luna glanced at her luggage, a playful glint in her eyes as she strolled over to it. “This,” she announced, pulling a small red bunny plushie from the depths of her bag.

[Hello]

She held it up with a cheeky smile, clearly testing her luck with Jeonghan.

Jeonghan didn’t even bat an eye.

He nodded, hummed in agreement, and reached out for the plushie. Without a word, he tucked it neatly into his oversized duffel bag, his expression unreadable but calm.

“That’s all?” he asked, scanning the room briefly as if double-checking.

“Yes… let’s go,” Luna replied, moving toward the door before stopping abruptly. “Oh!” She turned on her heel, darting to her bedside table to grab her sunglasses. Sliding them onto her face with a satisfied smile, she asked, “Okay?”

Jeonghan adjusted the strap of his bag as he gave her a long look, taking in her attire and her scattered belongings. “Okay,” he asked one last time, “Finished?”

Luna took a moment to scan her room with a careful gaze before nodding firmly. “Finished.”

Jeonghan gave the room one final sweep himself, his meticulous side refusing to leave anything to chance.

Satisfied, he opened the door, gesturing for her to go ahead. Their camera operators followed closely behind as the two of them made their way down the hallway toward the host room where they had been told to meet the others.

As they walked, Luna pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed her mother’s number. Pressing the device to her ear, she waited for the line to connect.

“Did you tell your mom?” she asked Jeonghan, glancing over at him as he placed his own sunglasses on his face.

“I messaged her, but she hasn’t replied yet,” he said, his voice calm as always. “She’s probably still sleeping.”

Luna nodded, remembering what she had mentioned to PD Na earlier about their parents’ dinner plans. Both her and Jeonghan’s parents had invited the two of them to a joint family dinner, but with the sudden change of plans, they now had to rain check.

“Don’t worry,” Jeonghan added smoothly, his tone reassuring. “We can reschedule— or they can have dinner together without us.”

Luna smiled at his practicality but didn’t have a chance to respond before her mother answered the phone.

“Hi, Mommy!” Luna greeted warmly, her tone softening as she adjusted the phone against her ear. “No, no, nothing bad, don’t worry. I just wanted to call and update you about something.”

She listened for a moment, her mom’s concerned voice coming faintly through the receiver, before laughing lightly. “I’m fine, really. But there’s been a change of plans… long story short, we’ve been kidnapped and we’re going to Italy.”

Her mother’s surprise was evident even without seeing her, and Luna quickly continued, “It’s for work, don’t worry. You know how these schedules can change last minute.” She paused to glance at Jeonghan, who was walking beside her with his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

“Yes… yes, Jeonghannie’s here with me,” Luna added, a soft smile playing on her lips as she said his name. “We’re heading to meet the others now.”

She listened as her mom’s tone shifted, likely asking a string of rapid-fire questions about logistics and safety. Luna hummed thoughtfully in response, nodding even though her mother couldn’t see her.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make sure to eat properly. Don’t worry.” Luna chuckled softly, her voice warm and light. “And yes, we’ll keep you updated as soon as we land.”

She glanced at Jeonghan again, as though silently sharing the conversation with him. “Jeonghan already messaged his mom, but I think she’s still sleeping. Yeah, we’re all fine. No need to stress…”

Luna stepped into the host room, phone pressed to her ear as her mother continued to ask her questions.

The members were already seated, fully dressed and ready, their attention quickly drawn to the two as they entered. Jeonghan strolled in behind her, his gait leisurely, and his demeanor calm. It didn’t go unnoticed that they looked subtly coordinated, both wearing white with caps and sunglasses perched on their faces.

[The mischievous ones arrive]

“Aigo!” one of PD Na’s staff exclaimed with a chuckle, their eyes immediately landing on Luna’s handbag and the enormous duffel bag slung over Jeonghan’s shoulder— almost as large as Luna herself.

Everyone in the room turned to look, and the members couldn’t suppress their laughter, shaking their heads at the duo’s antics.

“I’m sorry, but no bags,” PD Na announced, stepping toward them with an air of mock authority. He gently grabbed Luna’s handbag, preparing to place it next to the small pile of confiscated bags that clearly belonged to Joshua, Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Dino.

Still on her call, Luna raised her voice playfully for her mother to hear. “Mommy, there is a strange man trying to take my bag,” she said, her voice filled with mock alarm.

[Tells on PD Na]

The room erupted into laughter, with the members clutching their sides while PD Na froze in shock, still holding onto her bag. “No…” PD Na stuttered, visibly flabbergasted, as he struggled to form a response.

Luna turned to Jeonghan with a mock glare, pointing accusingly at him. “I told you he won’t allow it!”

Jeonghan, unfazed, smirked at her. “And I told you we’re just trying our luck.”

“Well, clearly, luck is not on our side today,” Luna quipped, crossing her arms in faux exasperation.

Jeonghan leaned slightly toward her and responded coolly, “Luck doesn’t like quitters, Nana-ya and it’s called strategy not failure.”

[Bunnies arguing]

The room burst into laughter again, with Seungkwan teasing them between chuckles, “Mom, Dad, stop!”

PD Na, still clutching Luna’s handbag, began laughing as well, shaking his head in defeat.

“Mommy,” Luna continued, her voice still filled with exaggerated dramatics, “the man who is trying to take my bag is the same man who scared me earlier!” She shot PD Na a cheeky look, earning more laughter from the group.

Jeonghan, clearly entertained, grinned as he wordlessly set his duffel bag on the ground, making no move to remove any of its contents despite PD Na’s earlier proclamation.

“I’m sorry, Luna,” PD Na finally said through his chuckles, “but only things that can fit in your pockets are allowed to be brought.”

Luna sighed in defeat but couldn’t help laughing along. “Alright,” she said with a small chuckle, finally giving in.

Without missing a beat, Jeonghan reached over, plucked her phone from her hand, and brought it to his ear. “Yes, Mom… hello…” he said smoothly, his calm tone cutting through the lingering laughter in the room.

Meanwhile, Luna moved to the corner, her focus shifting to salvaging what she could. She placed her own bag down near the other confiscated bags, stuffing her pockets with the essentials she truly needed. Her movements were hurried but deliberate as she muttered softly to herself about what could possibly fit.

[Huffs and puffs]

The members watched her with amusement as Jeonghan continued chatting easily with her mom in the background, his relaxed voice a stark contrast to her visible frustration.

Soon, Jeonghan handed Luna’s phone back to her, ending the call with a final polite, “Take care, Mom.” Just as he turned around, PD Na approached, his eyes narrowing playfully at the oversized duffel bag still sitting on the chair.

“You’re really not going to give up on that bag, are you?” PD Na teased, folding his arms as he tilted his head toward Jeonghan.

Jeonghan chuckled, his tone light and teasing. “Alright, alright. I’ll return it,” he finally relented, though his grin said otherwise. With a dramatic sigh, he opened the bag and revealed its contents for everyone to see.

PD Na leaned over, his brow lifting as he spotted something at the top of the pile. “The ramyeon… how many do you need with you?” he asked incredulously, pulling out not one but three cups of ramyeon.

The room erupted into laughter as Jeonghan scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Is this a ramyeon store?” PD Na teased, holding up the cups for everyone to see.

Jeonghan simply shrugged, his tone nonchalant. “I carry a lot of things around.”

“He said only things you can put in your pockets are allowed,” Wonwoo chimed in, his voice deadpan as he repeated the rule word for word.

Before Jeonghan could respond, PD Na’s hand dove back into the bag, this time emerging with a familiar red bunny plushie. He held it up triumphantly, turning to face the rest of the room.

“And what is this?” PD Na asked, his tone filled with mock seriousness. “Is this necessary for the trip to Italy?”

The sight of the bunny made the group laugh even harder.

“That’s mine,” Luna said, stepping forward with her hand raised.

“Yours?” PD Na asked, clearly not expecting the response.

Luna nodded firmly. “That’s an essential.”

The sincerity in her voice made the chuckles grow louder.

“How exactly is this an essential?” PD Na asked, his brow furrowed as he examined the plushie like it was a mysterious artifact.

Luna crossed her arms, a glint of playfulness in her eyes. “Whenever you have a hard time sleeping during the trip, I can lend it to you.”

Her matter-of-fact tone sent the room into another fit of laughter, and even PD Na couldn’t help but chuckle as he handed the bunny over to her.

Luna cradled the plushie in her arms before crouching down by Jeonghan’s bag. “Give me a second,” she muttered, her hands already rummaging through the contents.

Jeonghan didn’t stop her, merely stepping aside with an amused smile as he watched her dig through his meticulously packed bag.

[Is it Jeonghan’s bag or hers?]

“What is happening?” PD Na asked, his tone incredulous but entertained.

“Your fault,” Jeonghan replied easily.

Luna pulled out her moisturizer and sunscreen, inspecting them briefly before stuffing them into her jacket pocket.

“Why are your things in there?” PD Na asked, finally noticing that most of the items in the bag didn’t seem to belong to Jeonghan at all.

“I need them,” Luna replied simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

PD Na shook his head, laughing as he watched her continue to sort through the bag, while Jeonghan stood by with a satisfied smirk, clearly unbothered by the commotion his duffel bag had caused.

Jeonghan and Luna stood at the back of the room, both completely engrossed in their little mission as the rest of the group lounged around, waiting for PD Na’s signal to leave.

Jeonghan reached for the hem of Luna’s jacket, tugging at it gently to get her attention.

“Are you cold?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a murmur.

Luna looked up from where she was busy rearranging her belongings. “Hmm? Not really. I just brought this just in case,” she answered, her tone casual.

Without another word, Jeonghan slid the jacket off her shoulders. Luna allowed him to do so, albeit with a confused expression, standing there in her cropped white halter top.

“Hannie, what are you—” she began, but her voice trailed off as he folded the jacket with practiced precision, his long fingers deftly manipulating the fabric.

[?]

Jeonghan didn’t respond right away, instead focusing on the task at hand. He began stuffing the jacket’s large pockets with her smaller essentials— lip balm, tissues, and her travel-sized moisturizer— all while humming to himself.

Then, with a few neat folds and an expert tie, he transformed the jacket into a makeshift sling bag.

[Doing anything and everything]

Luna giggled as she watched him, her amusement bubbling over. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Jeonghan smirked, handing her the now-repurposed jacket bag. “Efficient is the word you’re looking for,” he quipped, helping her tuck the last of her items inside.

Their little moment didn’t go unnoticed.

From across the room, Seungkwan spotted them and couldn’t help but call them out, his voice ringing loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Ya! Yoon Jeonghan! Bae Jiyeon!”

All heads turned in unison, catching the two red-handed. Luna and Jeonghan froze, Luna clutching the makeshift bag as if it were evidence of a crime.

[Bunnies got caught]

The members burst into laughter, their amusement echoing through the room.

“Wah…” PD Na exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Those two… really…” S.Coups chuckled, his tone a mix of exasperation and fondness.

Jeonghan raised his hands in mock innocence. “What? We’re just folding her jacket. Jiyeonie is feeling hot,” he said smoothly, his expression calm and unbothered.

[Lie no. 1]

PD Na wasn’t buying it. “So, you’re not bringing that jacket, right? Since she’s feeling hot… it’s hot in Italy too. So it won’t be needed.”

Luna, ever quick on her feet, jumped in before Jeonghan could respond. “No. I might need it on the plane. I get cold easily.”

[Lie no. 2]

The members behind PD Na exchanged knowing looks, trying to stifle their laughter. They all knew Luna loved the cold and was often the last person to complain about being chilly, but they stayed silent, enjoying the show.

“It wouldn’t be fair for the other members,” PD Na pointed out, his gaze steady.

“He’s right!” a few members chorused, siding with him in unison.

Luna wasn’t one to back down easily. “Then allow them to bring more stuff too,” she reasoned, her tone earnest.

“She’s right!” The same members who had sided with PD Na now shifted their allegiance to Luna so fast that it made him laugh out loud.

“No, I can’t let you,” PD Na chuckled, his resolve unwavering.

“Don’t you think it’s only fair? Jiyeonie fell off her bed earlier…” Jeonghan added, his voice dripping with mock sympathy as he gave PD Na a pointed look.

[Manipulates PD Na]

The members chuckled, their amusement growing.

“He’s right. I could have broken my hip…” Luna chimed in, her voice dramatic.

“Me too,” Jeonghan added.

PD Na blinked at him, his expression caught between disbelief and amusement. “What do you mean ‘me too’?”

“I broke Jiyeonie’s fall,” Jeonghan stated simply, his tone so matter-of-fact that it made Luna burst out laughing, the sound contagious as the rest of the group followed suit.

“You fell?” Minghao asked, his concern cutting through the laughter as he looked at Luna. He hadn’t been there earlier when she was woken up.

“I did,” Luna nodded, her chuckles softening into a sheepish smile.

“See? Don’t you feel bad for scaring Jiyeonie?” Jeonghan continued, his voice teasing as he shot a pointed look at PD Na.

“Wah! Those two are really scary,” Dokyeom said, pointing at the pair with an exaggerated shake of his head.

“Shameless. They are shameless,” Seungkwan declared, though his tone betrayed how entertained he was.

“They share the same brain cells, really,” Mingyu added, shaking his head in faux disbelief.

PD Na held up his hands, silencing the playful chaos with a laugh. “No. Give them all to me. It’s all there,” he said firmly, gesturing to Luna and Jeonghan’s makeshift bag of essentials.

Finally, Luna and Jeonghan gave up, surrendering the jacket and removing the unnecessary items. Luna was left with only the true necessities tucked into her pockets as PD Na watched over them like a hawk.

[Gives up]

“We’ll give you all the pocket money when we get there. Give you a place to stay. Give you delicious food too,” PD Na said reassuringly, his tone light yet final, as though he were a parent reasoning with mischievous children.

Jeonghan and Luna exchanged a glance before sighing in unison, their antics coming to an end— for now.

The excitement in the room was palpable, and Seungkwan could barely contain himself. “Sounds like so much fun!” he exclaimed, his voice brimming with energy as he clapped his hands together.

“It’s been a while since I felt this excited,” Mingyu added, nodding in agreement, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

“Sounds so much fun. How would we go if it wasn’t for times like this?” Seungkwan marveled, his tone growing more reflective as he glanced around at his fellow members.

“It’s our first time going to Europe as a group,” Joshua pointed out, his voice calm but filled with quiet excitement.

“To be honest, it’s really hard to fool all fourteen of us. It’s really not easy,” Dino chimed in, emphasizing his amazement as he gestured toward the crew, his expression one of genuine admiration.

“Oh, this is really the best reality show,” Hoshi said, his trademark grin stretching across his face.

“But… thank you so much for hiding this thoroughly,” Woozi said earnestly, turning to PD Na and his crew with a small bow of gratitude.

“Really! We can figure it out and ruin it. Ruin the fun,” Seungkwan agreed, nodding emphatically. He opened his mouth to continue, but before he could finish his thought, a staff member stepped forward with a phone in hand, raising it to face the group.

“Okay, we’ll take a picture… one, two, three…” the staff member announced.

Immediately, the members broke into bright smiles, striking playful poses for the camera.

“Nice. I’ll take one more… one, two, three…” the staff said again, and the group posed once more, their excitement evident in their grins.

[First picture of the trip]

As the camera clicked, PD Na clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “Okay! All our customers are here. We will move to the bus right away and leave. Off we go to Italy!”

“Let’s go!” Dokyeom exclaimed, jumping to his feet, his enthusiasm infectious as the members began to gather themselves and head out of the room.

With her stuffed bunny in one hand, Luna barely had time to react before Dokyeom grabbed her other hand. He swung their hands back and forth as he skipped ahead, his energy unmatched.

“We are off to Italy!” Dokyeom announced loudly, his voice echoing through the hallway, drawing laughter from those around him.

Luna couldn’t help but laugh along, her voice soft compared to Dokyeom’s boisterous exclamation. “Yay!” she said in a tiny voice, unable to match his energy but happy to go along with it.

“Just follow the yellow brick road, Jiyeonie!” Dokyeom said with a mischievous grin.

“That’s gonna take us to the wrong place,” Luna chuckled, amused by his reference as they entered the elevator with the first batch of members, unable to fit everyone at once.

Once they reached the basement parking of the hotel, they found themselves waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. Joshua, curious, turned to PD Na.

“You were in this hotel?” he asked.

“No, the hotel next to ours. Purposely. Just in case we got caught,” S.Coups answered for PD Na, stepping forward with a knowing smile.

“We had a meeting with S.Coups. I was sitting in the hotel room for seven hours,” PD Na explained, shaking his head at the memory before adding, “Nothing matters now.”

“This was in it for fooling you guys. Let’s just keep it a secret until 5 a.m. That was it,” S.Coups said, crossing his arms as if reliving the meticulous planning.

Luna, however, was only half-listening. Her focus was elsewhere as she typed away on her phone, updating her mom just like she told her to. Her concentration was so intense that she didn’t catch the part where S.Coups admitted to being part of the plan, or the subtle implication that he wouldn’t be joining them due to his injury.

“So detailed,” Joshua praised, glancing at PD Na with genuine admiration.

“Since it’s the first time where all of the members were fooled,” Wonwoo said, adding his agreement.

“We are quick,” S.Coups said with a knowing smile.

“If you do a hidden camera on us and one of us figures it out, the atmosphere changes,” Wonwoo explained, his voice calm and insightful as he gestured to the group.

“Since there are a lot of people,” PD Na added with a nod, acknowledging the challenge of keeping such a large group in the dark.

The van intended to take them to their bus rolled smoothly to a stop in front of the group, its engine humming quietly in the background.

PD Na clapped his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” he urged them, motioning toward the vehicle. Then, turning to S.Coups, he added with genuine appreciation, “S.Coups, thanks,” acknowledging the leader’s help with a slight nod.

At this, Wonwoo and Vernon, who were just about to climb into the van, paused and turned around.

“Oh!” Wonwoo exclaimed, realizing the significance of PD Na’s words. He immediately made his way back to S.Coups, his usual stoic demeanor breaking into something softer and more affectionate.

Dokyeom, who had been patting S.Coups’ back, couldn’t help but laugh as he pointed at Wonwoo. “He was going to leave without looking back!” Dokyeom teased, his voice playful as always.

“Leaving coldly,” PD Na added with a chuckle, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

Wonwoo ignored the teasing as he reached out to hug S.Coups, who was laughing at the whole situation.

“You saw Wonwoo just leaving, right? Us two— you remember us hugging you right away,” Dokyeom said dramatically, pointing at himself and Joshua as if to cement their loyalty in S.Coups’ mind.

S.Coups grinned at their antics and patted Dokyeom’s shoulder reassuringly. “I will send you a message,” he said, his tone calm and affectionate, as always.

Vernon, who had been watching the exchange with growing confusion, finally pieced it together. His eyes widened slightly as the realization dawned on him.

“Ah! You’re not coming with us!” Vernon exclaimed, his tone surprised.

The sudden statement snapped Luna out of her focus, her head whipping toward them as she processed Vernon’s words.

“Who?” she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern and upset, though she wasn’t yet sure who Vernon was referring to.

The group turned to look at her, a collective chuckle rippling through them.

“You were here this whole time?” Joshua teased, his voice light and teasing as he raised an eyebrow at her.

Luna, however, wasn’t in the mood to reply and completely ignored his comment. Her gaze darted around the group as she asked again, “Who’s not coming? Coupsie?”

Her voice softened as her eyes landed on S.Coups, who was looking back at her with a small, sad smile.

“He’s going to hurt his leg,” Dokyeom explained, his voice softer now, as if he didn’t want to upset her further.

“Go home safely,” Wonwoo added, his tone warm and sincere.

“No…” Luna trailed off, her voice filled with disbelief. She didn’t know what to say, her thoughts scrambling to process the fact that their leader wouldn’t be coming along.

“Rest well,” Joshua told S.Coups, his voice gentle and understanding.

“Ah… this is so sad. What do I do?” Vernon said dramatically, shaking S.Coups’ hand in farewell before stepping back. Then, as if to lighten the mood, Vernon added with a teasing grin, “I will have fun.” He waved teasingly as he backed away toward the van, his antics drawing a laugh from S.Coups and the rest of the members.

The group’s laughter filled the air, but Luna was unmoved by the levity of the moment. She stood there, her lips pressed into a pout, clearly upset as her eyes stayed on S.Coups.

“This is really upsetting,” Wonwoo commented, his tone quieter now as he glanced at Luna before turning back to S.Coups.

S.Coups laughed softly, waving at the group as they bid their goodbyes. Joshua, Dokyeom, and Wonwoo joined Vernon in waving goodbye to him, their hands raised high as they slowly backed toward the van.

Luna, however, didn’t move, her pout deepening as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her expression spoke volumes, and it was clear to everyone watching that she wasn’t ready to let this go just yet.

Luna’s gaze stayed locked on S.Coups as the others reluctantly began moving toward the van. Her feet remained planted, her stuffed bunny clutched tightly in one hand. She was quiet for a moment, processing the finality of what Vernon had just said.

[Looks like she’s gonna cry]

Then, softly, S.Coups asked, “Aigo… why?” He smiled at her gently, the way he always did when he knew she was upset.

“You’re not coming?” she asked again, her voice trembling slightly even though she already knew the answer. He needed to fly back to Korea for rehab and treatment— he needed to rest. But knowing it didn’t make it any easier.

“I’m not, Nie,” S.Coups replied, his tone calm and soothing. “You understand why, right?”

Luna nodded silently, but her heart sank. She hated it when any of the members were left out. To her, it felt wrong, incomplete. The thought of S.Coups, their leader and rock, staying behind while the rest of them embarked on this long-awaited trip gnawed at her.

“I can stay here with you,” Luna offered, her voice firm and completely serious.

S.Coups immediately gave her a sharp look, the kind of authoritative stare that only he could deliver. “No. I won’t let you. I’ll be fine, Jiyeonie. Don’t worry too much,” he reassured her, his tone gentle but decisive.

“No. I want to stay with you,” Luna insisted, her stubborn streak shining through as she met his gaze.

This time, S.Coups gave her one of his leader stares— the kind that could silence any argument.

Luna’s shoulders sagged slightly, and her lips jutted out in a pout. “Cheollie…” she trailed off, her voice almost a whine as she shuffled closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug, burying her face against his shoulder. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Some people might think she was being overly dramatic, and maybe she was, but who cares?

This was S.Coups— her leader, her big brother figure, her constant— and it didn’t feel right to leave him behind.

“You haven’t been to Europe, and you were the most excited when we won this trip,” Luna murmured sadly as she pulled away from the hug. She remembered vividly how ecstatic he had been when they won the trip during Game Caterers a few months ago.

S.Coups smiled at her, but it was tinged with sadness. “I know,” he said simply.

He could see the gears turning in her head as she mulled over the idea of staying behind with him. She was always like this— selfless to a fault, especially when it came to the people she cared about. But S.Coups wasn’t going to let her miss this opportunity.

“Can you do something for me?” he said softly, coaxing her.

Luna blinked, her attention fully on him now. “What?”

“Get me something from Italy,” he said, his smile soft and encouraging. “Something special. For me.”

Luna hesitated but finally nodded. “Alright…” she said, her voice still tinged with sadness.

“Stop being so sad,” S.Coups chuckled, reaching out to pat her arm.

“I don’t like it when we aren’t complete,” Luna admitted, her voice quiet but sincere.

She knew she sounded clingy, but she couldn’t help it. She had grown up with these men— they were her family.

“I know,” S.Coups said, his voice equally soft. His gaze dropped to the red bunny plushie Luna was holding. He smiled and said, “That can be me for the meantime.”

Luna looked down at the plushie, her pout deepening slightly before she softened. “Cherry…” she murmured, tracing her finger over the bunny’s ear. “I’ll take Cherry with me everywhere.”

[Cherry will be Cheollie for a week]

S.Coups’ smile widened at that.

“I’ll take you to Italy when you’re okay,” Luna said suddenly, her voice filled with determination. She looked up at him, her eyes serious. “Just the two of us. I promise.” She held out her pinkie finger to him, her expression unyielding.

S.Coups stared at her for a moment, knowing she was dead serious and meant every word.

With a soft chuckle, he linked his pinkie with hers. “Promise,” he said.

Luna gave him another tight hug, her arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders. “Rest well and heal fast,” she whispered. “I’ll call you and send you pictures and buy you so many things.”

Before pulling away, she placed a quick kiss on his cheek, making him laugh softly.

“Nie, I have a letter,” S.Coups said, his voice teasing but sincere.

Luna furrowed her brows in confusion. “A letter? What letter?”

S.Coups smirked and nodded his head toward the van. “Go… but don’t forget, choose the letter.”

Still confused, Luna could only nod hesitantly as she let herself be gently pushed toward the van. “Alright…” she said, though her voice held an uncertain edge as she climbed inside.

As the door closed behind her, S.Coups watched her with a fond smile. He waved once more at her knowing that while he couldn’t be with them this time, they would carry a piece of him with them— just as he would carry them in his heart.

[To be continued in Clip 1-2]

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[bueckets]

Prophecy | Finale

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Parts: Part One | Two | Three (you're here)

Description: Following the viral video of Paige and Azzi, you spend the next three months redefining what perfect means. Each shot becomes a statement, each swish echoing with something colder than precision. Your teammates watch you stay late every night, turning heartbreak into headlines, until even UConn's dynasty seems breakable.

The game approaches like destiny. Harvard versus UConn in the Final Four, a collision course that ESPN calls "The Game Women's Basketball Has Been Waiting For." Twenty thousand tickets sell out in minutes. The whole sport holds its breath.

You haven't spoken to Paige since that night in the snow. Haven't read her texts or opened her letter. Instead, you let your game speak - 47 against Princeton, 51 against Yale, perfect shooting in both. They call it The Revenge Tour, though you never bother correcting them.

Now Dallas looms like a storm on the horizon. One game to prove that some things break you, and some things make you unbreakable.

This is the story of which one you become.

WC: 11k

WEEK ONE

After that night in the gym, you don’t miss. Not once.

Every shot is a calculation, a release, a fury of physics and heartbreak. Each arc is perfect, each swish feels like vengeance. The ball obeys because it has to. Because it’s the only thing left that makes sense.

Paige’s texts come in like a storm. Desperate, raw, and relentless:

Monday (3:47 AM): please just let me explain.

Monday (4:15 AM): it wasn't what it looked like.

Monday (4:22 AM): i miss you.

Monday (4:45 AM): please answer.

You sit on your bed staring at the ceiling, the blue glow of your phone lighting the room like a taunt. Sierra grabs it from your hands and sets it face down on your desk. “Nope.”

By Tuesday, the messages get sharper, more frantic

Tuesday (2:13 AM): i know you’re mad. i’d be mad too.

Tuesday (3:01 AM): rocket, please. you mean everything to me.

Tuesday (3:45 AM): i never meant to hurt you. i’d do anything to take it back.

By Wednesday, she calls. Seventeen times. Sierra’s thumb hovers over the block button. Jasmine glances at you, but you just lace up your shoes and head for the gym.

Thursday, the texts shift to something softer, almost pleading:

"i know you're reading these."

"just tell me you're okay."

"god, i miss you."

"please just talk to me"

Sierra and Jasmine take turns deleting the messages before you can see them, but you know. You always know.

“She’s hurting,” Jasmine says carefully one night, her voice soft like she’s walking a tightrope.

"Good," you respond, and sink another three.

WEEK TWO

The texts get longer, more rambling.

"i know i screwed up. i don’t even know how to start fixing it. all i know is that i want to."

"i miss how you made me feel like the best version of myself. like i could do anything."

"i miss you solving equations while watching film. i miss your voice. i miss you."

"rocket, i love you. i don’t care if you don’t believe me right now, but it’s the truth. i love you."

"please just tell me to fuck off or something. anything is better than this silence."

You don’t read them, but Sierra does. She updates you with clipped summaries: “She’s still apologizing. Still desperate.” You just nod, focusing on your form. Release. Swish.

“She says she loves you,” Sierra says one day, her voice careful.

“Doesn’t matter,” you reply, grabbing another ball.

WEEK THREE

Thursday evening, it snows. Heavy, wet flakes that stick to the ground and blanket campus in white. You’re in the gym, as always, the only sound the steady rhythm of the ball hitting the floor, then the net.

Sierra bursts in, out of breath, snowflakes clinging to her jacket.

“She’s here,” she says, voice strained.

You pause mid-shot, the ball resting heavy in your hands. “What?”

“Paige,” Sierra says. “She’s outside. Just standing there. She’s not leaving until you talk to her.”

You blink, your pulse quickening. “In the snow?”

“Yes. In the snow,” Sierra snaps. “Want me to handle it?”

You glance at the door, at the faint glow of the snowstorm through the windows. Your chest feels tight.

“I’ll do it,” you say quietly.

Sierra looks surprised but doesn’t argue. “You sure?”

You nod, dropping the ball onto the rack. “Yeah. I’ve got it.”

You push open the gym door, and the cold hits you like a slap. The snow is coming down hard now, heavy flakes swirling in the wind and catching in your hair, on your lashes, melting instantly on your skin. The air bites at your face, sharp and unforgiving, and you pull your sweatshirt tighter around you as you step into the storm.

Paige is there.

She’s standing under the dim glow of the parking lot light, a lone figure against the blanketed white. Her coat is too thin for this weather, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if that could keep the cold out. Snowflakes dust her hair, her shoulders, even her lashes, sticking there like delicate glass. Her nose and cheeks are red, raw from the wind, and her breath comes out in uneven clouds that catch the faint light before disappearing.

Your heart pounds as you take her in. It’s not fair, how seeing her still makes your chest tighten, how her very presence feels like it could knock you off balance. You feel your feet ache against the frozen pavement, the sting of cold air in your lungs, but it’s nothing compared to the burn in your chest.

She looks up as you approach, her eyes locking onto yours immediately. They’re red, glassy, the unmistakable sheen of unshed tears making them glisten. She uncrosses her arms, her hands trembling, and takes a single step forward.

“Rocket,” she says, and her voice cracks. Just that one word, and it’s enough to make your knees threaten to buckle.

You stop a few feet away, planting your sneakers firmly into the snow to keep steady. Your throat feels tight, your tongue heavy. For a moment, you can’t speak. You just stare at her, the silence between you as thick as the snow falling all around.

“What are you doing here?” you manage finally. Your voice is sharper than you intended, but the lump in your throat makes it hard to sound anything but cold.

She shifts, wiping her hands on her coat as if that’ll stop them from shaking. “I—I had to see you,” she stammers. “You weren’t answering, and I just—” Her voice breaks again, and she swallows hard, trying to steady herself. “I just needed to try.”

The words hang in the air, weighty and raw. You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay grounded, to not let your emotions spiral. The wind picks up, whipping snowflakes against your face, and you blink hard against the sting.

“You’ve said enough,” you say, your voice flat.

“I know,” she says quickly, stepping forward again. Her boots crunch against the snow, and the sound feels deafening in the quiet. “I know I’ve said everything wrong. I don’t even know if there’s anything left to say. I just—” She takes a shaky breath, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I need you to know how sorry I am. How I got into my head leading up to it. I was scared. I’m sorry. For everything. For ruining us.”

Your breath catches at that, and your chest tightens even more. Her words hit like a weight, heavy and suffocating, and for a moment, you don’t trust yourself to respond. You feel the sting in your fingers, the way the cold air pinches your ears, the dull ache in your feet from standing still too long.

“It wasn’t just a mistake, Paige,” you say finally, your voice trembling despite your effort to sound steady. “It was trust. It was everything we had.”

She nods quickly, tears finally spilling over. She swipes at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie, trying to hide it, but her hands are shaking too much. “I know,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the wind. “I know I broke it. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for hurting you.”

The tears keep falling, streaking down her red cheeks, and she doesn’t bother wiping them anymore. Her shoulders shake, but she doesn’t look away from you. You want to turn away, to stop seeing her like this, but you can’t. Your eyes burn, your throat feels raw, and the weight in your chest only grows heavier.

“I loved you,” you say softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Her breath catches audibly, and you see her shoulders slump further, like the words are knives she’s been bracing for.

“I love you,” she says, her voice breaking entirely. “I still love you. I’ll always love you.”

The snow falls harder now, coating everything in a thick, suffocating white. You feel it collect on your shoulders, your hair, melting down your neck. Paige shivers, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, her breaths coming out in ragged clouds.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you as you stare at Paige. The snow falls heavier now, landing on her lashes and melting against her flushed cheeks. Her nose is red, her hands trembling as they clench at her sides. The cold bites at your skin, your ears pinching, your feet aching, but none of it feels as sharp as the weight in your chest.

“Go home,” you say, your voice cracking slightly despite your attempt to sound firm.

Paige doesn’t move. Her wide, red-rimmed eyes stay locked on yours, brimming with fresh tears. Her lips part, but no words come, just a soft, shaky breath. Then:

“Please,” she whispers, barely audible over the wind. Her voice is raw, broken, and it hits you like a punch. She takes a step closer, her boots crunching in the snow, her hands twitching at her sides like she wants to reach for you but knows she can’t. “Please,” she says again, the word shaking with everything she’s trying to say but can’t.

You inhale sharply, your chest tightening as you force yourself to stand your ground. “Paige,” you say, softer now, almost pleading yourself. “Go home.”

She flinches, like the words physically hurt, but she doesn’t argue this time. She nods slowly, blinking hard against the tears streaming down her face. Her shoulders slump as she turns away, her steps hesitant, dragging in the snow like she’s leaving pieces of herself behind with every step.

You watch her walk toward the far end of the parking lot, her figure blurry through the curtain of falling snow. She stops once, just for a moment, her back to you. She swipes at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie, but the motion is weak, almost futile. Then she moves again, trudging toward the lone car parked under the faint glow of a streetlamp.

The driver’s side window rolls down as Paige approaches, and you see KK leaning out, her face a mix of concern and frustration. KK says something—low and sharp, the words lost in the wind—and Paige shakes her head, opening the passenger door and climbing in without another glance in your direction.

The car idles for a moment, exhaust puffing into the frozen air, and you catch a glimpse of KK glancing your way, her gaze hard but questioning, like she’s debating whether to come out and say something. But she doesn’t.

The brake lights flare as the car shifts into gear, and then they’re gone, disappearing down the snow-covered road.

You stay rooted to the spot, the cold seeping through your clothes, the sound of their departure fading into silence. You don’t move for a long time, staring at the empty space where they’d been, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

You stand there long after the car disappears into the swirling snow, the cold seeping into your bones. Your feet ache from standing still, your fingers sting from the frost, and your chest feels like it’s caving in on itself. You force yourself to turn, your legs heavy as you walk back toward the gym, the door looming like a safe haven you don’t feel like you deserve.

The moment you push it open, the heat rushes out to meet you, thick and suffocating. It hits your face like a wall, and suddenly, you realize how cold you were—how raw your skin feels, how your ears throb with the warmth sinking in. You blink against the hot air, your vision blurring, and that’s when you feel it. The damp streaks on your cheeks, the burning in your eyes.

You were crying.

The thought stuns you for a moment, but there’s no time to process it. Your feet move automatically, carrying you deeper into the gym. The echo of your footsteps bounces off the empty court, the sound sharp and hollow in the stillness. You make your way to the locker room, the familiar scent of sweat and rubber hitting you like a memory you didn’t ask for.

Inside, Sierra and Jasmine are waiting. They’re sitting on one of the benches, their expressions tight and unsure, like they don’t know what to say—or if they should say anything at all.

Your eyes meet Sierra’s first, and the look she gives you is soft, pitying, like she’s trying to hold you together with just her gaze. Jasmine looks away quickly, her hands fiddling with the strings of her hoodie, her shoulders tense with unspoken guilt.

Neither of them says a word.

You don’t either. You don’t have the energy.

You walk past them, your legs threatening to give out, and sink onto the bench in front of your locker. The cold from outside is still in your body, lingering in your muscles, making everything ache. You press your hands to your knees, trying to ground yourself, but the weight in your chest is too much.

It breaks.

You bury your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking as the sobs finally come. They tear out of you, raw and uncontrollable, and you can’t stop them even if you wanted to. The locker room fills with the sound of your crying—ugly, unfiltered, and nothing like The Prophecy at all.

Sierra shifts behind you, and for a moment, you think she’s going to say something. But she doesn’t. Neither of them does. They just sit there, giving you space to break apart, their quiet presence the only thing holding you from completely falling apart.

Your tears soak into your palms, your breath coming in gasps, and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself feel the full weight of it all. The cold, the betrayal, the way her voice cracked when she said, “I love you.” It crashes over you, relentless and unrelenting.

And you let it.

Because in this moment, you don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to calculate the pain away or turn it into fuel.

For now, you just let yourself break.

WEEK SIX

Her last attempt comes in the form of a letter. Handwritten. Twelve pages. Sierra finds it slipped under your door one gray morning, the paper just slightly bent, as though it had been clenched tightly before being left there.

“Want me to burn it?” Sierra asks, holding it up like it’s fragile, like even touching it too long might do damage.

You don’t answer at first, your eyes fixed on the envelope. Your name is written in Paige’s handwriting, unmistakably hers—soft, looping, careful. It looks like she spent a long time on just that one word. The ink is smudged in places, faint blotches where you know she must have paused, maybe wiped her eyes.

“Rocket?” Sierra asks again, her voice gentler this time.

You reach out, hesitating before your fingers brush the paper. The weight of it feels heavier than it should, like it’s holding every unsaid word she couldn’t force into those desperate texts, every plea she couldn’t voice the last time she saw you.

“No,” you say quietly, your voice firm despite the knot in your chest. “Don’t burn it.”

Sierra doesn’t press. “What should I do with it?”

You swallow hard, still staring at the envelope like it might crack open on its own. “Keep it,” you murmur finally. “For after March.”

The corner of her mouth twitches in a faint, understanding nod. She tucks the letter carefully into her bag without another word.

Because that’s what this has all been about, hasn’t it? Every ignored call, every perfect shot, every breath you’ve taken since that night in the gym has been leading to one thing: March.

Two weeks later, the bracket drops.

Harvard vs. UConn. Sweet Sixteen.

You hear whispers everywhere—teammates speculating, reporters asking veiled questions about how you feel about the matchup. You stay quiet, dodging the noise with an unshakable focus that keeps the world at bay.

Paige doesn’t text. She doesn’t call. But one night, you see it.

It’s subtle, so subtle you almost miss it: a photo on her Instagram story.

She’s sitting on the floor of her dorm, the soft golden light of a bedside lamp pooling around her. Her knees are drawn to her chest, her head resting on her arms. There’s no caption, no obvious sign of you. But in the corner of the frame, hanging off the back of a chair, is your Harvard hoodie.

The air leaves your lungs.

It’s so small, so quiet, but it feels loud in your chest.

Sierra notices you staring at your phone and gives you a sharp look. “Don’t,” she warns.

“I’m not,” you reply, locking your phone and sliding it across the table.

And you aren’t.

Instead, you lace up your sneakers and head to the gym.

30 DAYS TO MARCH MADNESS

The bracket predictions start rolling in. Every analyst has the same storyline: Harvard and UConn are destined to meet in the championship.

ESPN calls it "The Game Women's Basketball Has Been Waiting For."

You don’t watch their coverage. You don’t need to. You just shoot.

Paige’s last text comes at 2 AM:

“i still miss you.”

You delete it without reading. (Sierra tells you about it later anyway.)

25 DAYS

“Did you hear?” Jasmine says as she slides into the locker room after practice, her voice quieter than usual.

You don’t look up. “Hear what?”

“Paige was at some party last night. Someone saw her with... someone.”

You pause mid-lace, your fingers tightening. “And?”

“She’s... moving on. Or trying to.”

Later, Sierra shows you the photo: Paige with her arm around a tall blonde, both laughing like the world doesn’t hurt them.

You close your phone, drop it in your bag, and hit the gym for 200 straight shots. Each one lands, clean and precise, but your chest tightens with every swish.

At midnight, Sierra finds you still there. “She’s doing this on purpose,” she says softly.

“Doing what?”

“Trying to make you feel what she’s feeling.”

You grab another ball, square your shoulders. “Bold of her to assume I still care.”

(You do. God, you do.)

20 DAYS

Your game is evolving. Whatever limits you thought existed don’t anymore. You’re not just making shots—you’re erasing boundaries.

Reporters ask Coach about it after Harvard crushes Penn by 30 points. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

She shakes her head, her voice filled with awe. “She’s playing like someone who has nothing left to lose.”

Because you don’t.

15 DAYS

Another photo surfaces: Paige dancing at a club, the same blonde close enough to blur the line between friendly and intimate. The image spreads through whispers, not headlines, but it’s enough to reach you.

The next morning, Jasmine deletes all your social media apps. “Focus on what matters,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument.

So you do:

47 points against Princeton.

51 against Yale.

Perfect shooting in both games.

The whispers around you grow louder. People call it The Revenge Tour, though you don’t bother correcting them.

You let your game speak for itself.

10 DAYS

Harvard enters March Madness ranked #1 for the first time in school history. UConn is #2.

The narrative writes itself:

Ice vs Fire.

You hear the buzz but tune it out. Paige posts a hype video for the tournament. There’s no sign of you in her clips, but you don’t need to be.

That night, you shoot until your arms shake. The sound of each swish reverberates through the gym, the echoes cutting through your chest like heartbreak.

5 DAYS

The tournament begins, and you burn through the first two rounds like wildfire:

45 points against Florida State.

52 against Tennessee.

You still haven’t missed.

UConn advances too. Paige plays like she’s on fire, dropping 38 against Duke and 41 against LSU. But she misses. She stumbles. She’s human. She’s flawed.

You tell yourself that’s why she couldn’t keep you. Because perfection is lonely.

2 DAYS

The Final Four is set: Harvard vs. UConn. The matchup everyone’s been waiting for.

Your teammates feel the weight of it, the buzz of history swirling around them, but you stay quiet. Focused.

“Are you ready?” Coach asks after practice.

You glance at her, your expression steady. “Always.”

1 DAY

The press conference is brutal. Every question is a thinly veiled attempt to dig into the drama. Paige. The rumors. 

You give them nothing.

“I’m here to play basketball,” you say flatly. “Nothing else matters.”

Later that night, alone in your hotel room, you stare at the letter Sierra saved weeks ago. It sits on the desk like it’s daring you to open it.

Your hands shake as you unfold the pages.

The first three lines hit harder than you expect:

"I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. I know I broke something perfect. I know I lost the best thing that ever happened to me."

You stop reading. You don’t need to see the rest.

The paper burns easily in the sink, the edges curling in on themselves like the words are folding into ash.

Tomorrow isn’t about forgiveness.

It’s about proving that some things break you.

And some things make you unbreakable.

Time to show her which one you are.

THE FINAL FOUR: HARVARD VS UCONN

The arena in Dallas feels alive, like it has a pulse of its own. Twenty thousand fans pack the stands, and the roar of the crowd is more than sound—it’s energy, crackling in the air, vibrating through the floor. You can feel it in your chest, in the way your heart beats a little faster as you stand in the tunnel, waiting.

This is the game. The one people will talk about for decades.

“Harvard vs. UConn,” ESPN’s voices echo faintly from the screens overhead, carrying over the din “The Game Women’s Basketball Has Been Waiting For.”

“Harvard’s perfect season against UConn’s dynasty.”

“Two programs. Two stars. One unmissable collision course.”

You don’t look at the screens. Don’t let the noise creep in. You focus instead on the rhythm of your breathing, the weight of the ball in your hands, the perfect arcs playing out in your mind. Force vectors, trajectories, momentum. The physics of what’s about to happen.

Sierra steps up beside you, her face all business, her game face as sharp as you’ve ever seen it. “You good?”

You nod once. She doesn’t ask if you’re sure. She’s seen you these past weeks—seen the extra hours, the obsession, the way you’ve turned heartbreak into something almost unrecognizable. She’s seen you rewrite what’s possible when perfect turns to steel.

“They’re out there,” Jasmine says quietly, stepping up on your other side.

Your stomach tightens, but you don’t let it show. 

“You’re sure you’re good?” Sierra presses, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m perfect,” you say flatly, the word cold and sharp.

The crowd’s roar deepens, and you know UConn must be taking the court for warmups. You can picture it without looking: Paige leading them out, her stride confident, her expression poised. She feeds off this energy, always has, like she was built for these moments.

You think about everything—every ignored text, every late-night practice, every time Paige’s name appeared on your phone screen and you turned away. You think about the letter, folded and burned, its words turned to ash: "I know I broke something perfect."

“I’m ready,” you say, voice steady.

Coach nods. “Good.” She turns to the team. “Ladies, listen up. Everything we’ve worked for comes down to tonight. They’re bigger, they’re stronger, and they’ve got more banners in their gym than we’ll ever see. But we’ve got something they don’t.”

She looks at you, and there's something fierce in her eyes.

"We've got perfect."

The team huddles up, hands in. But before they can do their usual chant, you speak. It's the first time you've addressed them all day.

"When we take that court," your voice is quiet but carries weight, "you're going to hear a lot of noise. They're going to talk about everything except basketball. But that's not why we're here."

Your teammates lean in closer.

"We're here because I made you all a promise three years ago. That we'd make history. That we'd show the world what Harvard basketball really is. That we'd be perfect when it matters most."

You look each of them in the eye.

"Tonight, we keep that promise."

The tunnel erupts in fierce agreement. Your teammates are ready for war.

"One minute!" calls the official.

You close your eyes for a moment, center yourself. Think about all the shots that led here. All the nights in empty gyms. All the physics problems solved between free throws. All the moments that built The Prophecy.

And yes, you think about her. About early mornings in her dorm. Late nights watching film. The way she said your name like it was something precious. The way she looked at someone else the same way.

The anger rises, cold and precise. You use it, let it sharpen your focus until everything else falls away.

The tunnel lights flicker as the official signals. It’s time.

"Ready?" Sierra asks one last time.

You step toward the light of the arena, toward the noise, toward destiny.

"Perfect," you say.

And then you emerge into madness.

The sound hits you like a wave the second you step onto the court. It’s not just noise; it’s a force, a physical thing that presses against you, vibrating in your chest.

"THE PROPHECY! THE PROPHECY! THE PROPHECY!"

The chant rolls through the arena like thunder, swelling as the crowd rises to their feet. Signs wave above the sea of faces:

"PERFECTION WEARS CRIMSON"

"847-2: THE PROPHECY SPEAKS"

Your entrance stops UConn's warmups cold. Every player freezes mid-drill, even the legendary Geno Auriemma turns to watch. You catch Paige's reaction in your peripheral vision—the way she stumbles slightly, ball slipping from her fingers. But you don't look at her. Won't give her that.

The Harvard section is delirious, but it's more than that. The neutral fans, the media, even some UConn supporters are on their feet. This is what happens when you spend three months turning heartbreak into headlines, when you take "perfect" and make it look easy.

Your teammates hit the court, their warmups sharper, fueled by the energy of the crowd. But your routine is different. Quieter. Singular.

You start at the three-point line, the ball resting in your hands. The noise fades as you focus, your heartbeat steadying. One shot.

Swish.

The explosion of noise is deafening. You don't react. Just catch, shoot, swish. Again. Again. Again.

On the other end, UConn's trying to maintain their composure, but you can feel their eyes on you. Feel the way their usual swagger has been replaced by something else. Something that looks like doubt.

Your teammates are feeding off the energy now. Sierra drills a corner three, the ball cutting through the net with a satisfying snap. Jasmine blocks one of Taylor’s layups in a mock defensive drill, both of them grinning fiercely.

"Focus on our game!" Geno barks, but even he keeps glancing your way.

The media's having a field day. Every camera in the building is trained on you, catching every perfect shot, every ice-cold expression. ESPN's commentary carries over the speakers:

"We're watching something unprecedented here, Rebecca. The Prophecy isn't just perfect anymore—she's transcendent. Look at the way UConn's players are watching her. They're supposed to be the dynasty, the standard-bearers, but right now they look shook—"

And still, you don’t look at Paige.

The crowd's volume keeps building, impossibly louder with each perfect shot you make. NBA players sitting courtside are shaking their heads in disbelief. Olympic champions in the stands are filming on their phones. This isn't just a warmup anymore—it's a statement.

Finally, mercifully for UConn, the buzzer sounds to clear the court for final preparations. As the teams head to their benches, you allow yourself one glance at their side. Just one.

Paige is standing near the sideline, her hands resting on her hips, her gaze fixed on you. For a split second, your eyes meet. Her expression shifts—shock, pain, something that might be regret.

You hold her gaze for a beat longer, then turn away, your face unreadable.

You turn away, face impassive. But inside, the cold fire burns hotter.

Because this isn’t about her anymore.

This isn’t about heartbreak or revenge.

This is about showing the world what happens when perfect stops trying to be loved.

And starts trying to be legendary.

The starting lineups are about to be announced, and the arena hums with anticipation, the kind of energy that makes the hair on your arms stand on end. It’s not just loud—it’s electric, like the walls themselves are holding their breath. Every cheer, every chant, every flash of a camera feels sharper, brighter, heavier. History is about to be made.

The announcer’s voice booms, reverberating through the cavernous space, calling out names that blur into the roar of the crowd. You barely hear them—don’t need to. You’re locked in. You can feel the ball’s weight in your hand even though you’re not holding it, the phantom rhythm of your dribble steadying your pulse.

The Prophecy is about to speak.

And everyone—Paige, UConn, the world—is about to listen.

Sierra wins the tip with authority, the ball snapping to Maria like it’s been rehearsed a thousand times. Harvard’s ball. The crowd leans forward collectively, the sound dropping to an expectant hum as you cross half court, their energy feeding into the moment.

UConn’s defense is already set. You see it as soon as you step over the timeline: box-and-one. Four players sagging into a tight zone, leaving Paige on you.

Of course they’d make her guard you. Of course.

She’s close, closer than you expected, the kind of tight defense that borders on personal. Her eyes flicker for a moment, uncertainty bleeding through her usual focus.

“Please…” she whispers, so quiet it almost gets lost in the noise. “Can we just—”

You don’t let her finish.

A crossover—quick, precise, lethal—cuts her off mid-sentence. The crowd gasps, a collective intake of breath, as Paige stumbles, her footing faltering for just a second. But a second is all you need.

You rise up from 25 feet, the motion as natural as breathing. Perfect form. Perfect rotation.

Swish.

The crowd detonates.

3-0 Harvard.

"THE PROPHECY STRIKES FIRST!" The announcer can barely contain himself. "ICE COLD FROM DEEP!"

UConn pushes the ball upcourt fast, their transition game as polished as ever. Paige has that look now—the one that used to make your chest tighten, the one that once made you believe she could do anything. Now, it’s just data to process, another variable in the equation you’ve already solved.

She drives hard to the right, her speed and body control flawless. She’s counting on you to back off, to avoid contact, to give her just enough room for the pull-up jumper she’s perfected.

But you don’t.

Your body stays with hers, every step mirrored, every shift anticipated. When she rises for the shot, your hand is already there, contesting at the perfect angle. The ball leaves her hands, spinning slightly off-axis.

Clank.

The sound of the ball hitting the rim feels louder than it should, the miss reverberating through the arena like a misstep in a symphony.

“REJECTION!” The crowd erupts again, their voices rising to a fever pitch. “THE PROPHECY WITH THE PERFECT DEFENSE ON THE PRINCE!”

Maria grabs the rebound and pushes the break. You trail deliberately, your movements fluid, waiting for the play to unfold. The ball swings to you on the wing. Another catch. Another perfect release.

Swish.

6-0 Harvard.

Geno Auriemma doesn’t hesitate. Timeout, 47 seconds in. His voice carries across the court, sharp and commanding as he pulls his players in, trying to steady a ship that’s already rocking.

The ESPN commentators are incredulous. “I’ve never seen anything like this! The Prophecy isn’t just scoring—she’s controlling the entire game. And having Paige Bueckers guard her it’s psychological warfare at its finest.”

In the huddle, Coach Matthews stays calm, her voice steady amidst the chaos. “Keep executing. They’re rattled.”

Your teammates nod, feeding off her composure. You don’t say anything, don’t need to. The look in your eyes says enough.

Back on the court, UConn shifts their defense. KK Arnold takes over guarding you, her physicality immediately apparent. Paige shifts to Jasmine, but you feel her eyes on you anyway, like a weight pressing against your back.

You make her pay for it.

A quick backdoor cut—sharp, timed to perfection—leaves her a step behind. Maria sees it instantly, the lob arcing perfectly into your hands. You lay it in cleanly, barely breaking stride.

8-0 Harvard.

The UConn section is restless now, the nervous energy rippling through their chants.

From the crowd you hear, “She's not that special! Lock her up!"

The next time down, you catch the ball at the top of the key, KK’s hand pressing into your hip. You rise anyway, unfazed. The ball barely brushes the net on its way through.

11-0 Harvard.

Geno is furious, calling out defensive adjustments. But there's something different about UConn's energy—they're not just trailing, they're shook.

Paige tries to take over, driving hard to the rim with an intensity that feels more desperate than controlled. Her first step is sharp, her movements calculated, but there’s something frantic in the way she moves—like she’s trying to match you shot for shot, trying to prove something to herself as much as to the crowd.

Her floater arcs high but catches the back iron and rolls out.

The crowd groans, the sound rippling through the UConn section like a wave of disbelief. Paige’s jaw tightens as she sprints back on defense, but you’ve already moved on, focused, untouchable.

On the next possession, she pulls up for a three. It’s a clean look, her form textbook, but the ball rims out again, drawing a gasp from the fans and a loud clank that echoes through the arena.

Then she drives again, barreling into the paint, trying to force her way through Sierra’s perfect positioning. The ball pops loose, Sierra’s quick hands stripping it clean, and the Harvard section explodes in cheers.

Meanwhile, you’re somewhere else entirely.

Athletes talk about it, but few ever get there: the space where time slows, where the game feels less like competition and more like art. The roar of the crowd fades into a low hum, the edges of the court softening as everything sharpens around the ball in your hands.

It’s not just instinct—it’s control, precision, the physics of perfection in every step. Each shot feels inevitable, each movement unfolding like an equation you’ve already solved.

On defense, you can feel the tension radiating from UConn, their movements tighter, their communication louder. When Emma finally scores off a put-back—muscling through a sea of Harvard defenders—the UConn section celebrates like it’s a game-winner.

11-2 Harvard.

You glance at the scoreboard, then at your teammates, your calm focus unshaken. They know what’s coming next.

You show UConn what victory really looks like.

KK Arnold presses into you as you bring the ball up the court, her hands swiping aggressively, trying to throw you off balance. You shift your weight left, plant your foot, and cross over so quickly it sends her stumbling, her arms flailing for balance as the crowd gasps.

You take one step back, rising effortlessly over Caroline’s outstretched arms as she contests, her fingertips barely brushing the air beneath the ball.

Swish.

16-2 Harvard.

The Harvard bench leaps to their feet, arms raised, while the UConn section sits frozen, unsure of how to react. Geno is pacing now, barking orders to his team, his sharp voice cutting through the tension.

"We're watching history," the announcer's voice trembles with excitement. "The Prophecy isn't just winning—she's rewriting what's possible in this sport."

Paige is pressing harder, trying to shoulder the burden of momentum, but it’s slipping through her fingers. She forces another drive, this time straight into Sierra, who holds her ground like a wall. The whistle doesn’t blow, and Paige stumbles as the ball goes loose again, Maria scooping it up and feeding you on the wing.

The moment your hands touch the ball, you already know what’s going to happen.

Perfect rhythm. Perfect form. Perfect swish.

UConn tries everything: double teams, traps, full-court pressure. Nothing works. You split defenders like they're standing still, find teammates for open shots when they sell out to stop you, and when they give you any space at all.

The quarter ends with one final dagger. UConn tries to hold for the last shot, but you read Paige's eyes—you always could read her eyes—and jump the passing lane. The steal leads to a breakaway with three seconds left.

Most players would lay it in. Safe. Smart.

But The Prophecy isn't most players.

You take off from just inside the free-throw line, rising up as the buzzer sounds. The ball leaves your hands at the perfect angle, with the perfect spin, following the perfect arc.

Swish. As time expires.

29-10 Harvard.

The arena absolutely detonates. Your teammates mob you as you walk calmly to the bench. Even Coach Matthews cracks a smile.

In their huddle, you can see Geno gesturing frantically, see Paige's head hanging.

But none of that matters.

Because this isn't about them anymore.

This is about perfect.

And perfect is just getting started.

The second quarter opens with UConn desperate to change the momentum. Their energy is sharp, frantic, the kind that comes from a team not used to being punched first. Geno has abandoned the box-and-one, switching to a triangle-and-two defense. It’s designed to suffocate you—two defenders shadowing your every step, cutting off your air, daring the rest of your team to beat them.

You glance at Paige and KK as they close in, their feet shuffling in sync. Paige’s jaw is tight, her expression unreadable, but there’s tension in her shoulders, the kind you’ve seen in every film session this week. KK is louder, her movements brash, barking orders at the rest of the defense.

The first possession, you take the ball at the top of the key, waiting for the defense to swarm. KK gets there first, her hands low and active, trying to force you left. Paige closes in immediately after, her presence suffocating.

You don’t flinch. You shift just enough to pull both defenders with you, then flick a no-look pass to Sierra cutting baseline. The ball drops into her hands, and she lays it in cleanly, untouched.

31-10 Harvard.

"The Prophecy showing she can dominate without scoring!" ESPN's excitement builds. "This is basketball genius at its finest!"

Then it happens.

Four minutes into the quarter. Harvard up 37-15. You shake loose from the double team, slicing through the defense like a knife through fabric. Sierra's screen creating the perfect angle of separation (47 degrees, optimal for catch-and-shoot scenarios), your feet set precisely shoulder-width apart, knees bent at the textbook 110-degree angle.

The ball feels good leaving your hands—perfect, even. The rotation is clean, the arc flawless, the trajectory straight out of a physics textbook. It’s the kind of shot you’ve made thousands of times. The kind of shot you don’t even need to watch to know it’s good.

But sometimes, the universe has other plans.

The ball hits the back rim, bouncing straight up, a little too high, a little too slow. It hovers for an agonizing second.

The entire arena holds its breath. Twenty thousand people frozen, watching the impossible happen. The ball hangs there, defying gravity for one more precious second, before falling away.

You’ve missed.

The UConn bench explodes, their cheers wild and unfiltered, like they’ve just won the championship. Their fans echo the celebration, chants swelling and overlapping.

"SHE’S HUMAN! SHE’S HUMAN!”

Paige takes a step toward you, instinct guiding her more than logic. It’s the same look you’ve seen in practices, in dorm rooms, in quiet moments when her guard was down. She wants to reach out, to say something, to bridge the gap between who you were to each other and who you are now.

But she stops herself. Her foot hovers for half a second before she steps back, her hand falling limp at her side. She remembers where she is. Who she’s supposed to be to you now.

And still, everyone waits.

Your teammates glance at you nervously. They’ve seen what happens when you miss. They know the last time you broke. They know why.

But you're not the same person who broke in that dark gym.

Instead of shattering, you do something no one expects.

You smile.

It’s small, controlled, more ice than warmth, but it’s enough to send a ripple through the arena. The silence shifts into something sharper, heavier.

The message is clear: Missing doesn’t break me anymore.

Nothing does.

"Oh my," the ESPN announcer’s voice is barely above a whisper. "That might be the scariest smile I’ve ever seen in basketball."

Next possession.

You take the ball at half court, KK and Paige closing in again. Their energy is different now—more cautious, less certain. They’re waiting for you to pass, waiting for you to hesitate, waiting for the doubt to creep in.

But it doesn’t.

You glance at the defense sagging just slightly, expecting hesitation, and then you do the thing no one else would.

You rise from the logo, the shot pure and effortless, the ball spinning through the air like it was destined to fall.

Swish.

40-15 Harvard.

The arena erupts.

Your teammates are screaming, their hands raised in disbelief. Coach Matthews stands for the first time all game, clipboard forgotten, her face a rare mix of awe and pride.

"THAT'S HOW YOU RESPOND TO ADVERSITY!" ESPN's voice cracks with excitement. "The Prophecy isn't just perfect anymore—she’s unstoppable!"

UConn calls timeout, but it's too late. They've lost whatever psychological edge they thought they'd gained. The rest of the quarter becomes a masterclass:

You hit threes over double teams.

Thread passes through impossible angles.

Turn their defense into a highlight reel of broken ankles and shattered hopes.

By halftime, the score is 52-27 Harvard. You've got 31 points, 8 assists, and a message that's louder than any perfect streak:

Some things break you.

Some things make you unbreakable.

And sometimes, becoming unbreakable is better than being perfect.

The teams head to their locker rooms, but the story of the second quarter isn't the score. It's the smile after the miss. The logo three that followed. The moment when The Prophecy proved that she's not just a perfect player.

HALFTIME

The locker room feels like it’s vibrating, the energy practically bouncing off the walls. Your teammates are loud, voices overlapping in a chaotic chorus of disbelief and celebration. Sierra’s pacing, too hyped to sit, while Jasmine reenacts your logo three for the tenth time, miming your shooting form with exaggerated flair.

"DID YOU SEE THEIR FACES?" Sierra's practically dancing. "When you smiled after that miss? I thought they were gonna pass out!"

"That logo three was DISGUSTING," Jasmine adds, mimicking your shooting form. "The disrespect!"

You let their voices wash over you, grounding yourself in the chaos without joining it. Sitting on the bench, you pull a water bottle to your lips, its coolness a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from your skin.

But Coach Matthews raises her hand for quiet. "They're going to come out desperate. Geno's never been down this much in a Final Four. Expect everything."

You nod slightly, her words steadying you. She’s right. The storm is coming. You can feel it brewing beyond the walls, the hum of the arena like distant thunder.

Through the locker room door, the halftime show filters in faintly. ESPN’s voices carry over the noise of the crowd:

“Harvard leads UConn 52-27 in the most lopsided first half of a Final Four in recent history…”

“31 points, 8 assists, 12-of-13 shooting, 5 steals. These aren’t just numbers; they’re history in the making…”

“And it’s not just the stats. That smile after the miss? That was the moment The Prophecy stopped being perfect and became something more. Something immortal.”

Sierra catches you listening and grins, holding up her phone. “You’re trending worldwide. Again.”

You wave her off. You don’t care about that. You’ve never cared about that.

But then Jasmine nudges you, her expression shifting from playful to serious as she shows you another text. This one’s from KK.

Paige is crying in the bathroom. Whole team���s shook. 

Good.

THIRD QUARTER

The second you see UConn retake the court, you can tell they’ve changed. There’s a new energy to them—sharper, more desperate. Paige’s eyes are slightly red, a telltale glint betraying her earlier tears. But there’s also something dangerous in her expression, the kind of desperation that makes even the best players reckless.

Geno’s thrown everything at the wall. UConn opens with a full-court press, their defenders swarming like bees, aggressive and chaotic.

It’s laughable.

You slice through them on the first possession like they’re standing still. A quick pass to Maria in the corner. Perfect release.

55-27 Harvard.

Paige tries to respond immediately, driving hard to the basket with her head down. The play is pure determination, her shoulders hunched as she barrels into the lane, but you’re ready.

Sliding over, you plant yourself perfectly, your feet set, your body immovable. When she crashes into you, the impact reverberates through your chest, but you don’t budge.

The whistle blows. Offensive foul.

Paige hits the floor hard, her hands slapping against the hardwood. For a split second, instinct kicks in—the memory of a hundred practices where you’d help her up, offer her a hand, a joke, a smile.

But that was then.

Now, you simply turn and walk away, your expression colder than the ice under her feet.

“Ice. Cold,” the announcer breathes, the disbelief palpable.

On the next possession, Paige picks you up full court, her body language bristling with frustration. She presses in close, practically stepping on your toes, her voice low and cracking.

“Please,” she whispers. “Just look at me. Just once.”

You don’t respond.

Instead, you hit her with a combination that feels less like basketball and more like poetry:

Crossover right.

Behind the back left.

Through the legs.

Step-back three.

The crowd doesn’t even wait for the ball to hit the net. The moment Paige stumbles backward, they’re on their feet, screaming.

The shot, of course, is perfect.

58-27 Harvard.

The UConn section is dead silent now. Even Geno has stopped pacing, his arms folded as he stares helplessly at the court. Paige glances toward their bench, her eyes briefly meeting Geno’s, but he has no answers either

Next possession, you wave off the screen, motioning for everyone to clear out. The court feels impossibly wide as Paige crouches in her defensive stance, her body coiled with tension. You can see the tears threatening at the corners of her eyes, the way her breathing hitches as she exhales.

Time slows.

Can see the tears threatening at the corners of Paige's eyes.

Can feel twenty thousand people holding their breath.

Perfect isn't about not missing anymore.

Perfect is about what you do next.

The move is pure poetry.

Crossover so quick the cameras barely catch it.

Through the legs at half speed, letting her think she's got you.

Then the acceleration – zero to legendary in a heartbeat.

Paige lunges, trying to stay in front.

The crowd rises as one.

But they don't matter.

Nothing matters except the physics of this moment.

You rise up from 30 feet, Paige's hand right in your face.

Time stops.

The ball arcs through the air like destiny.

Swish.

The arena detonates.

Your teammates mob you as you jog back, their faces alight with disbelief. Even the referees exchange glances, one shaking his head like he’s just witnessed the impossible.

61-33 Harvard.

Paige doesn’t move. She stays rooted to the spot where you left her, her head bowed, her hands on her knees. The weight of the game—of the moment—presses her into the hardwood.

The UConn bench looks like a graveyard.

Perfect breaks back.

The quarter ends with Harvard up 73-41. You've got 45 points on a shot chart that looks like abstract art. Each bucket more impossible than the last. Each move designed to teach them all the same lesson.

FOURTH QUARTER

Ten minutes left in the biggest game in women’s college basketball history. Harvard up 73-41. The crowd buzzes with anticipation, sensing the inevitable.

Paige opens the quarter like someone with nothing left to lose. Her movements are sharper now, more fluid, like she’s untethered from the weight of expectation. There’s desperation in her eyes, but also glimpses of what made her special.

What made her yours, once upon a time.

She hits a deep three. Then another. Her teammates respond, pressing full court, fighting for every inch, clawing for one last stand.

On the next possession, UConn doubles you at half court, but you see the opening before they do. A quick bounce pass threads the needle, hitting Sierra in stride for an uncontested layup.

75-44 Harvard.

The press comes hard again, but you stay poised, letting it collapse around you before sending a no-look pass over your shoulder to Maria in the corner. She drains the three, and the crowd explodes.

78-44 Harvard.

Paige tries to answer with a contested jumper at the other end, and it rattles in. She’s pressing now, forcing every play, trying to drag her team back into a game that’s already slipping away.

Back on offense, you hesitate near the arc, drawing in the defense before flipping a behind-the-back pass to Jasmine cutting baseline. The ball barely touches her hands before it’s in the net.

80-46 Harvard.

Coach Matthews calls timeout to sub you out with 1:32 left. The ovation is deafening—every single person in the arena on their feet, cheering until their voices crack. You’ve got 34 points, 15 assists, and 7 steals, but the numbers barely scratch the surface of what just happened.

You jog to the bench, your teammates mobbing you, their hands slapping your back, their voices a chaotic blur of celebration.

As you pass Paige one last time, there are no words. No need.

You both know what this moment is.

The final buzzer sounds: Harvard 89, UConn 51.

Confetti falls, a blizzard of crimson and gold, as your teammates tackle you in a storm of laughter and tears. Cameras flash everywhere, their lenses capturing history in real time.

You stand at center court, calm amidst the chaos, the weight of the moment settling over you.

Because you did it. You won.

The locker room is a storm of joy, the kind that only comes from rewriting history. Music blasts from a speaker in the corner. Sierra’s leading a conga line with the championship trophy hoisted high. Jasmine and Maria are filming every second, screaming into their phones about being “FINAL FOUR CHAMPIONS, BABY!”

You should be reveling in it. You are, to an extent—smiling as Sierra shoves a bottle of sparkling cider into your hands, laughing as Jasmine accidentally sprays half the team with the foam.

But deep down, there’s an itch you can’t scratch.

You made the statement. You dominated the game. You won the war.

But the battle inside you—the one that started long before tonight—is still unresolved.

Later, when the celebration starts to wind down, you find yourself leaning against a corner of the locker room, still clutching the now-empty bottle of cider. The room feels quieter, though the energy still hums faintly in the air. Your teammates are scattered—some FaceTiming family, others sprawled on benches in blissful exhaustion.

Sierra catches your eye from across the room. She doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head slightly, a silent question.

You shake your head. Not yet.

An hour later, you’re back in your hotel room, the championship hat still perched on your head, your phone buzzing endlessly with texts and notifications. Most are from reporters, friends, family. A few from Jasmine and Sierra, who are probably still partying somewhere downstairs.

You scroll through them aimlessly, not sure what you’re looking for until you see her name.

Paige.

She hasn't texted. Not since before the game. Her name sits there like a ghost in your messages, daring you to make the first move. To break the silence that's grown between you like a wall.

For a while, you just sit there, staring at the empty message thread. You replay every moment of the game in your mind—the way her voice cracked when she guarded you, the way she pressed harder and harder as the score slipped further out of reach. The way she nodded, warrior to warrior, as if she knew what you’d just written into history.

And yet, it doesn’t feel complete. Not entirely.

Before you can overthink it, you start typing.

you can come by if you want

The message is simple. No explanations, no context. You don’t even wait to see if she reads it before tossing your phone onto the bed and heading to the bathroom to wash off the night.

When you come back, the screen is lit with her reply:

where?

Your heart stumbles over itself as you type the room number. You sit on the edge of the bed, fingers playing with the hem of your sweatshirt, trying to ignore how your pulse picks up with each passing minute.

The knock, when it comes, is so soft you almost miss it.

For a second, you just stare at the door, your pulse thudding in your ears. The part of you that has spent months building walls tells you not to answer, not to let her in.

But tonight isn’t about walls.

You open the door.

She’s standing there, still in her UConn travel gear, hair tucked under a beanie. Her eyes are tired, rimmed with dark circles, but there’s something in them—something vulnerable, tentative—that catches you off guard.

“Hi,” she says softly.

“Hi.”

You step aside to let her in. She moves hesitantly, as if unsure whether she belongs here.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The room feels heavy with unspoken words, with everything the game couldn’t settle.

“You played…” Paige starts, then stops, biting her lip. “You were unbelievable.”

“Thanks.” You cross your arms, leaning against the desk. “You weren’t bad yourself.”

She lets out a breathy laugh, the sound awkward and raw. “I tried.”

Silence stretches between you again. The words you want to say stick to the back of your throat, stubborn and heavy. You watch her hands fidget with the strings of her hoodie, a nervous tell you used to find endearing. Now it just makes your chest ache.

Finally, it’s Paige who breaks the tension.

“I thought it would feel better,” she admits, her voice cracking slightly. “Losing, I mean. Seeing you win. It’s like I needed you to win. I needed you to be okay without me. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.”

Her honesty feels like a gut punch. You unfold your arms, suddenly unable to stay distant. “Paige…”

“I’m sorry,” she rushes out, words tumbling over themselves.“For all of it. For hurting you, for not fighting harder, for—”

“I know,” you cut her off gently, your voice quieter now. “I know.”

She looks at you, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Do you?”

You nod, stepping closer. “Yeah. I do. And I…” You take a shaky breath. “I’m tired of being angry. I don’t want to carry it anymore.”

Her shoulders slump, the tension leaving her body all at once. “I don’t either.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the weight of everything unsaid filling the room.

And then, slowly, you reach out, your hand brushing hers. She looks down at the contact, her lips trembling, and you feel something shift.

Forgiveness isn’t instant. It’s not easy. But it starts here, in this quiet room, with the two of you trying to find your way back to something that feels whole.

“Sit,” you say softly, gesturing to the bed.

She hesitates, then sits down, and for the first time in months, the space between you feels less like a chasm and more like a bridge.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to cross it.

She sits on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her shoulders hunched like she’s bracing for something. You grab a water bottle from the mini-fridge, needing something to do with your hands.

“Want one?” you ask, holding it up.

Paige glances at you, nodding slightly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

You hand it to her, and your fingers brush—just for a second. It’s such a small, fleeting touch, but it makes the air between you feel charged, like something fragile and important is hanging there.

She twists the cap off the bottle but doesn’t drink, just stares at it like it holds answers. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually let me in,” she says softly.

“Neither was I,” you admit, sitting down beside her. The bed dips slightly under your weight, and for a moment, you’re hyper-aware of the small space between you.

Her lips curve into a faint, rueful smile. “Fair.”

The quiet stretches, not uncomfortable but heavy with unspoken things. You look at her out of the corner of your eye—the way her hands tremble slightly as she holds the water bottle, the way her hair falls messily over her shoulders, the way her shoulders rise and fall with each shallow breath.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Paige murmurs, breaking the silence. “You were… unbelievable tonight. I mean, you always are, but tonight…” She trails off, shaking her head like she can’t find the words.

“Thanks,” you say softly.

“I wasn’t just talking about the game,” she adds, her voice quieter now. “The way you handled everything—the pressure, the expectations, even me. It was like watching someone I didn’t even know existed.”

You glance at her sharply, caught off guard by the rawness in her voice. “You know me better than anyone.”

“I thought I did,” she says, her lips twitching into something that’s not quite a smile. “But I think I only knew the parts of you that let me in. And I don’t think I earned the rest.”

Her words hit something deep inside you, something you’ve been trying to bury. You look down at your hands, twisting the cap on your water bottle. “You didn’t need to earn it,” you say quietly. “It was always yours.”

She turns her head to look at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable, and you can feel her staring, feel her trying to read between the lines of your words.

“I should’ve fought harder,” Paige whispers. Her voice cracks, and she drops her gaze back to her lap. “For us. For you. I should’ve—”

“Stop,” you interrupt gently, surprising even yourself with the softness in your tone. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I’ve already forgiven you.”

She lets out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping like a weight has just been lifted. “Really?”

You nod, your throat tightening. “Yeah.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The sound of her breathing fills the room, slow and uneven, and the faint hum of the city outside filters in through the window.

“It’s weird,” you say after a while, breaking the silence. “I thought beating you tonight would feel like closure. Like I could finally move on. But it didn’t.”

Paige looks up at you, her brows furrowed. “What did it feel like?”

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. “Like I was still waiting for something.”

She doesn’t ask what, doesn’t press, but the way she looks at you tells you she knows.

The silence stretches again, but this time it feels different—like the space between you is slowly shrinking, like the air is shifting.

You shift slightly on the bed, your knee brushing hers. The touch is small, accidental, but neither of you pulls away.

“Do you want to stay?” you ask suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can overthink them.

Paige blinks, her eyes widening in surprise. “What?”

“Stay,” you repeat, your voice steadier now. “Just for tonight.”

She looks at you, searching your face for something—hesitation, doubt, anything that might make her say no. But she doesn’t find it.

“Okay,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, standing up and grabbing a spare blanket from the closet. “You can take the bed. I’ll—”

“No,” she interrupts quickly, shaking her head. “I mean, we can… share. If that’s okay.”

You hesitate for a moment, then nod again. “Yeah. Okay.”

The bed feels impossibly small as you both lie down, the silence stretching between you like a fragile thread. You’re on your back, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about how close she is. Paige shifts slightly, the mattress dipping under her weight, and you catch the faint scent of her shampoo.

You try to focus on anything else—the faint hum of the city outside, the muffled sound of someone laughing in the hallway, the rhythm of your own breathing. But your mind keeps circling back to her.

“Hey,” Paige whispers after a while, her voice tentative in the dark.

“Yeah?”

“Can I…?” She trails off, and you turn your head to look at her. Her eyes are wide, uncertain, the soft light from the window catching the gold flecks in them. “Can I hold you?”

The question catches you off guard, but only for a second. Then you nod, shifting onto your side to face her.

She hesitates, like she’s still waiting for you to pull away, and then she closes the space between you. Her arms wrap around you carefully, like she’s afraid you’ll break, and you feel the warmth of her body settle against yours.

You exhale slowly, your head resting against her shoulder, your hand curling slightly against her chest. Her heartbeat is steady, grounding, and for the first time all night, you feel your own racing pulse start to calm.

“Is this okay?” she asks softly, her breath warm against your hair.

“Yeah,” you murmur, letting your eyes close. “It’s okay.”

For a while, neither of you speaks. The quiet hum of the room wraps around you like a cocoon, the world outside fading into the background. You focus on the small details—the way her fingers trace absent patterns against your back, the steady rise and fall of her breathing, the way her cheek brushes against your temple.

“I missed this,” she whispers, the words barely audible.

You don’t answer right away, your throat tightening with emotions you’re not ready to name. Instead, you shift closer, tucking your face into the crook of her neck. “Me too.”

Her arms tighten slightly around you, and you feel the faintest press of her lips against your hair. It’s not a kiss, not really—just a gentle, fleeting touch, like she’s afraid to ask for more.

You stay like that for what feels like hours, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air. But for now, it’s enough. Enough to share the silence, to let yourselves be close again, to let the cracks start to heal.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” she says quietly, breaking the silence.

You open your eyes, your gaze meeting hers in the dim light. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be.”

The faintest smile tugs at her lips, hopeful and tentative, and you let yourself smile back.

For now, it’s enough.

For tonight, it’s everything.

The End

A Note from the Me

Thank you for following The Prophecy's story through these three parts. Your comments, messages, and support have meant the world to me. You've helped shape this story of what happens when perfect meets human, when physics equations meet matters of the heart, when being unbreakable becomes more important than being flawless.

Thank you for being part of this journey (cornball moment lol). If enough people want I can do a 6 year time jump as a short story where they're married.

[thelostconsultant]

Midnight rain

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

summary: Lando wanted a family, but you weren’t ready. Three months after your breakup, he's still in love with you, and now it's your turn to decide whether or not to give him a second chance.

“You’re exhausting,” you groaned into the phone.

It was well into the morning when Lando’s name flashed on your screen, which wouldn’t have been so surprising if you were in the same time zone. But you were in Singapore, six hours ahead of Belgium, which meant it was around three in the morning over there. When he spoke, his speech was slurred, he was obviously struggling to form coherent sentences, but he sounded hell-bent on talking to you right now.

Since you were almost at the stadium for rehearsal before tonight's concert, you didn't feel like keeping up the conversation, but the way his voice broke made you listen. You knew he hadn't been in the best state of mind since the breakup, but the fact he still felt so miserable made you sad.

“We would have beautiful babies, you and me. Why don't you want to see them? A mini you, or a mini me, maybe a mini mix of us… So cute,” he said, at least that’s what you managed to understand from his mess of a speech.

And he giggled. You could imagine him lying on his back, one hand holding the phone while the other hugged a pillow to his chest. Rolling your eyes, you thought about what to say to this. It was always the same story, he would call you, tell you how much he missed you, how much he loved you, how he wished you would marry him, and how much he wanted to have a child with you.

The same things that made you break up with him in the first place. He told you about his vision; a big wedding somewhere remote, then the two of you would travel together, preferably with you coming to his races as a good luck charm, and soon you would welcome your first child who would be spoiled rotten.

That's not what you wanted. You wanted to focus on your career, you wanted to go on tours, you wanted to make more albums, you wanted to do so much before becoming a wife and a mother. Lando didn't seem to understand this, he kept telling you it would be okay, that there were many singers who could return to where they'd been before, but you didn't buy it.

“Go to sleep, Lando,” you told him calmly, hoping that gentle parenting would work.

“No, I won't sleep until you're back to me. I'll stay awake and–Don’t touch my phone, Osc!” he protested suddenly.

You heard some bickering in the background, which was followed by a long sigh. “Hey, it's Oscar. I'm sorry, we stayed with him and have been trying to keep him from calling you, but he somehow snatched his phone back from Max. You okay?”

At least he was in good hands and under supervision. “Yeah, sure, thanks for staying with him. Good race for you two by the way,” you said with a smile.

“You watched it?”

“Well, I checked the results and saw the highlights.”

There was a short break which made you wonder if he was still there, but then he spoke up again. “Listen, I don’t want to be involved in this, but I’m worried about Lando. You broke up three months ago and he’s still a mess. I get it, you don’t want marriage and kids yet, but maybe he would understand your reasons and agree to wait if you just sat down to discuss it.” You didn’t know what to say to that, but apparently Oscar was also a bit hesitant. “Do you still love him?”

“I don’t know if it’s love, but I care about him. We were together for over three years, it’s not gonna disappear from my life in a blink of an eye,” you explained. “But… I don’t know, I’m just afraid he would be back at it in a matter of weeks, once again trying to convince me to start a family with him.”

“And if we talked to him when he was sober? If we made sure he understands what you’ve been trying to tell him? Would you give him another chance?”

You took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Would you? Would it be worth it? You were on tour right now, but after the next four concerts you would end the Asian leg and have a few weeks for yourself. You would have time to figure things out. “I would talk to him, and maybe I would be willing to try again. Once last time. The moment he’s back on his bullshit, I’m going to leave him for good,” you added.

You could hear the soft laugh from Oscar’s side, and you could see him glancing down at his teammate with a smile. “I’m sure he would like it. I’m not sure how long he’ll be knocked out once we convince him to sleep, but I’ll tell him to call you at a reasonable time when he’s finally sober again, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks for everything.”

He said goodbye and left you with your thoughts, wondering if you made the right call. Maybe there was a part of you that wanted to be with him, because the years you spent together meant a lot to you. He was one of the kindest people you’ve ever met, a ray of sunshine, really, in stark contrast with your sometimes gloomy personality.

But who knew, maybe his friends can talk some sense into him.

Lando knew he only had one chance at this. All his friends were very clear about this, Oscar especially, since he had been the one to talk to you. During that one phone call a week ago, you agreed to come to him in Monaco, visiting his apartment so you wouldn’t have this conversation at a public place. It was something between the two of you, there was no need for strangers hearing even snippets of it.

When you arrived and his eyes fell on you again, every single thought left his brain. He was just standing there in the door, utterly speechless, surprised that he didn’t start drooling at the sight. After all those months spent looking at photos of you at your concerts, seeming like you had the time of your life on the stage, it was so nice to see this you, the one without the sparkling dresses, the down-to-earth girl he loved so much it hurt.

“Can I come in?” you asked him hesitantly.

He blinked a few times before realizing he had been staring for a little too long. “Sure, sure, come in,” he said as he stepped out of the way. “Can I bring you anything?”

Shaking your head, you sat on the couch and patted the empty space next to you. Like a well-trained puppy, Lando sat down and turned to look at you, taking in every little detail as if this was the last time he saw you. Because maybe this was the last time, maybe you would end the conversation with the decision that this relationship couldn’t be revived.

After several painfully silent minutes later, you finally stopped fidgeting with your ring and let out a long sigh. “I don’t want to start a family yet, at least not the way you want it. Marriage is one thing, but… You expected me to spend my time following you around. I have my own career to nurture, Lan, you need to understand that. Sure, one day I’ll be ready for it, but not yet,” you explained kindly, your eyes examining his face for a reaction.

But Lando knew better than to let his disappointment be visible, he fought hard to keep it away from you. So, when he spoke up, his voice was also kept neutral. “But you wouldn’t be against it one day, right? Starting a family with me, I mean,” he said, deep down hoping there would be a dazzling smile on your face as you replied.

You smiled, but it was more of a polite, maybe little uncertain smile. “Yeah, one day, although I can’t tell you when, I can’t give you a deadline. Maybe in our early thirties, maybe sooner. You would have to wait and see. Do you think you can do that?”

He couldn’t hold back a sad laugh, mostly because you didn’t really give him the choice to negotiate. You told him what you had to offer, and it was a take it or leave it situation. And he wanted you back in his life, he wanted to be by your side every step of the way, he wanted to be your biggest fan, and he needed you to support him. “I can. For you,” he added seriously as he reached out to take your hand.

[sungbeams]

RED LIGHT, GREEN LIGHT — psh

sending your boyfriend an innocent selfie after a long and tiring day quickly snowballs into something far from innocent...

⟡ ┆ pairing. park sunghoon x fem!reader

⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, established relationship, idol!AU (for sunghoon, y/n unspecified)

⟡ ┆ content warnings. guided + mutual masturbation, phone sex, edging, dirty talk, a tiny bit of voyeurism?

⟡ ┆ word count. 9.7k

⟡ ┆ note. first full length fic on this account !! biggest thank you to @jayparked for reading over this and listening to me complain about this fic <3

Silence greets you as you open the door to your apartment, quickly toeing off your shoes and limping into your living room just to let yourself fall onto your couch with a sigh. Your head falls backwards, leaning against the backrest, and you maneuver your feet to rest on top of the coffee table in front of you, stretching out your aching muscles with a relieved exhale. Rhythmic and consistent ticking interrupts the quietness around — coming from the clock hanging above your bookshelves — and even as you try to fight it, your eyes flutter close in an hopeless attempt to find at least a bit of relaxation.

Today had been stressful. And that's bordering on being an understatement.

Within the first hour of arriving at work, you had somehow managed to spill coffee on yourself. And even though it wasn’t that big of a stain — in fact, it was barely even noticeable unless you knew it was there — it still bothered you enough to agitate you every single time you spotted the small splotch on your white blouse. As if that wasn't enough, your colleagues kept bothering you throughout the day, and, just when you thought you were finally done with your tasks for the day and could take it slow for the rest of your shift, your boss decided to unload a massive amount of work on you. Your first instinct had been to hide in a bathroom stall until your shift was over and go home, ignoring the assignments and just call in sick next week, not wanting to interact with even one more person. In the end, your inner people-pleaser won, and you had forced yourself to push through. Relieved you finished your work and excited to finally go home, especially considering you wouldn't have to go back until Monday, you stepped onto the subway train — just to find out your usual station, the one closest to your home, was closed for maintenance work for the day, running on limited service only, meaning you had to get off at the following station. And even though the walk from there only added a few minutes to your journey, it still felt like the last straw to your already crappy day — the fact that it was raining and you hadn't brought your umbrella certainly didn't help — and all you want to do now that you're home is to bury yourself beneath your blankets and forget about this whole day.

More than anything else though, you can't help but wish you'd be able to curl up in the arms of your boyfriend, maybe watch a movie with him, or just spend the evening cuddling with him while he lets you vent while his skilled fingers work out the knots in the muscles of your shoulders, something he has done several times in the past when you've been stressed. But alas, Sunghoon just so happens to be several hundred miles away from you, currently preparing for Enhypen's next stop in their Walk the Line Tour in Saitama. Luckily, they were almost done with their tour. They only had two more weekends, four concerts in two different cities, left, and then you'd get to finally wrap your arms around your boyfriend again. The urge to call him, to hear his soothing voice to help you relax, is overwhelmingly strong, but you know he's likely more than exhausted and stressed out himself. After having to deal with hours after hours of rehearsals, the last thing you want is to bother him even more by unloading your troubles on him, especially since they seem to be oh so trivial and irrelevant now that you're back home and able to get a breather.

With another sigh, you push yourself to your aching feet, resisting the urge to fall back down onto your comfortable couch and let the pillows embrace you, your joints cracking and crunching, muscles aching in protest at the movement as you drag yourself towards your bedroom to change out of your work clothes. As you open the door, you find your bed exactly the way you had hastily left it in the morning after accidentally oversleeping, the duvet hanging halfway off the bed, and — much to your annoyance — the small lamp on the right side of your bed still turned on since you seemingly had forgotten to turn it off when you were rushing to get ready to go to work, skipping about 10 steps in your usual routine to avoid being late.

Not wanting to stay much longer in your stained shirt, you quickly open the white blouse to leave it hanging off your shoulders while you pop open the button of your pants and pull down the zipper, your hips the only thing keeping them from sliding off your body and falling to the floor. With your pants undone and the cold buttons of your shirt brushing against your skin, you make your way over to your dresser to pull out one of your oversized shirts — one that your boyfriend had previously owned before you had stretched it out by wearing it to sleep or whenever you needed its warmth, the lingering smell of him bringing you comfort in the nights he wasn't able to make it home or when you fell asleep before him. You throw the shirt onto your bed before hunting down a pair of fuzzy socks to pull over your aching feet, currently bare against the cold floor since you had left your shoes by your front door immediately after coming home.

Pulling off your dirty — and smelly — clothes and putting on the fresh shirt, you sit down on the foot of your bed while letting out a deep breath, rolling your shoulders and neck, stretching your sore muscles as your nerves finally settle after your stressful day. Looking at yourself in the mirror opposite of your bed, hair disheveled and the wrinkly old shirt hanging from your body, a thought pops into your head.

Leaning back to grab your phone off the bed from where you had thrown it when you initially entered the room. Swiping and tapping on the screen, the camera app opens, and you take a quick picture of your reflection in the mirror, your bare legs peeking out from underneath the oversized shirt, the washed-out material covering your entire upper body. Your hair is a mess, and you can clearly see the exhaustion written all over your face in the photo. If it were any other person, you wouldn't send them a picture like this; you'd delete it and pretend it never happened. But it's Sunghoon. Your boyfriend who has seen you at your absolute worst, whether it be ugly sobbing because of a movie or that one time you were so sick you were barely able to get out of bed. So you can't quite bring yourself to care about your looks. And as messy as you may appear, you also find yourself thinking he might appreciate it. After all, he had never made you feel like you needed to hide yourself away from him since you started dating, telling you just how gorgeous you are to him every chance he gets — whether that's after just waking up next to him or after some _intense_ time spent together.

Tapping away on your phone, you send him a message with the image attached to it:

> hope rehearsals are going well and you're doing alright. also hopefully you're having a better day than me, i'm gonna make a quick dinner and then crash i'm exhaustedddd :( talk to you later or tomorrow ily \<3

The rest of your evening passes by in a blur. A cup of instant noodles gulped down as fast as possible without choking on it or burning your mouth before you're rushing through your nighttime bathroom routine, skipping over a few steps you just can't bother to do until you're falling into bed. You don't fight the sweet embrace of sleep as it takes over you, your eyes fluttering close as your body floats away, knowing the next day — a Saturday, finally the weekend — would be less stressful and allow you to rot to your heart's desires.

[--]

The next time you open your eyes, the sun is up and light filters through your curtains. Reaching over to check the time on your phone, the screen displays several missed calls from your boyfriend from the evening before. Seeing the notifications almost instantly wakes you up, the back of your neck tingling with worry as your hands begin to shake, your mind going crazy with all the possibilities of what could've happened that would cause him to call you that many times at eleven at night. You press your phone against your ear while rubbing the remaining sleep from your eyes, anxiously listening to the repeating sound of the dial tone, the heartbeat echoing in your ears speeding up with every passing second.

After a few more rings, your boyfriend’s raspy morning voice replaces the silence of the other end of the line.

"(Y/N)? It’s…7:30 am. On a Saturday. Don’t you have the day off? Why are you up already, babe?"

Your worries instantly melt away as his voice fills your ear, his baritone sending shivers down your spine, replacing the uneasy tingling with a different, although similar, sensation. Despite only being separated for a few days, you still find yourself missing your boyfriend already, not able to help yourself even if you wanted to. Maybe it's related to your fluctuating hormone levels during your menstrual cycle or because the anniversary of your relationship is fast approaching — or just the fact that your boyfriend has been looking extra handsome recently — but you're starting to get impatient, desperately wanting to run your hands through his dark hair and over his smooth skin again.

"I fell asleep early yesterday, and I woke up just now to several missed calls from you. I was worried something happened,” you reply with the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips, not a hint of anxiety left in your body.

Sunghoon chuckles slightly over the phone, and you can hear the quiet sound of rustling in the background, most likely caused by him sitting up in his hotel bed. And indeed, just as you're imagining, several hours away from you, Sunghoon is sitting upright, leaning against the headrest of the hotel room, his pillow pressed against his back, his hand reaching up to brush his messy hair out of his face. Somehow, though, it ends up even messier, sticking up from his head in all directions. Not that he particularly cares right now. No, all he really cares about is being on the phone with you, able to hear your voice at the beginning of his day.

"Well," he clears his throat, a teasing tone taking over his voice, "you sent me that selfie last night, and I wanted to have some fun with you... but I guess you had better things to do."

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he lets his eyes adjust to the bright morning sun shining through the half-closed curtains, not having had the energy to get up to close them the night before.

A laugh erupts from you as you mentally picture your boyfriend sitting in the bed of his hotel room, duvet pooled around his waist and one arm slung over his bare chest as he's leaning back against the headboard with a playful pout etched onto his face. You silently sit up — your arm starting to fall asleep from the position in which you have to hold your phone against your ear — shirt slipping off your shoulder in the process as you reach up to push some of your hair out of your face.

"Yeah? What kind of fun?"

Your voice is curious, although hushed, almost as if you don’t dare to speak too loudly, even though you’re completely alone with no one to disturb. On the other end, you can hear Sunghoon hum slightly, the rumble in his chest echoing in your ear and sending the noises straight towards your core, your plush walls fluttering around nothing. Even after being with and knowing him for quite some time, little things like this — his voice after just waking up, his cheeks painted in a dusty pink, his hair a fluffy mess just asking to run your hands through it — still instantly manage to melt you into a puddle, goosebumps rising all over your skin.

"I think you know just what kind of fun I’m talking about, baby,“ Sunghoon lightly growls into your ear, pushing the duvet completely off his body, pressing a hand against the growing bulge in his underwear to relieve some of the pressure, "You looked so sexy, with your hair all messy from the day, your makeup smudged, and my shirt covering your gorgeous body. Wish I could be there right now to tear it off of you; be the reason you're all messy and disheveled for me.”

A quiet whimper involuntarily slips past your lips, your boyfriend chuckling lowly into your ear in reaction. He's aware of the effect he has on you, especially that of his voice. Whenever when he would want to tease and rile you up, he'd intentionally lean closer to you, whispering into your ear, his breath brushing over your ear, and no matter how innocent or suggestive his hushed words would be, your body would always react the same: shivers wrecking your body, breath speeding up, and eyes glazing over as you gaze up at him. The thought of those memories alone causes you to shudder and press your legs together, dampness slowly forming between them and ruining your underwear.

"Let’s try something different today, alright, sweetheart?"

You clear your throat in hopes your voice wouldn’t come out as breathy as you’re anticipating, but without avail, "Like...like what?”

"I want you to lie back down. I know you just sat up a few moments ago; I heard it, but now I need you to lie back down. Can you do that for me, baby?“

Your response comes as a hum, not trusting your voice and wanting to relish in Sunghoon's commanding tone without interrupting him. Silently, you shuffle down in your bed until your head is resting on your pillow again before kicking your duvet off your legs to feel less trapped and constricted, allowing you to move freely. Your shirt rides up in the process, exposing the bare skin of your stomach, goosebumps forming on it as the cold air of your bedroom comes in contact with your hot skin.

"I saw a blog post a bit ago online; it was about this couple in a long-distance relationship, and to spice things up in their bedrooms, they tried this little game that blew their minds away. How does that sound?"

You swallow thickly despite your mouth feeling as dry as a desert, breathing out a soft 'good’ as you impatiently wait for your boyfriend to continue husking into your ear.

"It's...I'm not sure how to describe it. It's like a guided mutual masturbation game? I'll get you to fuck yourself just the way I want you to do it while you get to listen to my voice and allow me complete control over you. Let me guide you, tease you, make you pleasure yourself until you cum all over."

Unconsciously, you start rubbing your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure forming between them. One of your hands sneaks down your body, rubbing your folds over the wet spot forming on your panties as you try your hardest to swallow down the whimper forming in the back of your throat.

"Baby, I know you’re touching yourself already. Unless you want to deal with the consequences the minute I get back home, I’d suggest you move your hand away from your pussy right this moment,” your boyfriend growls through the phone, the roughness of his voice startling you, “Busy your hands by taking off your underwear for me, okay?”

"Okay… 'm sorry,“ you mumble quietly before lifting your hips off your mattress to allow you to quickly roll your panties down your legs, exposing your dripping core to the chilly air of your bedroom, the contrast of hot and cold, as well as your growing arousal, causing shivers to run down your spine, "What now?”

"Alright, it's called 'red light, green light' game. The rules are simple. When I say 'red light’ you’re not allowed to masturbate; you’re not allowed to touch yourself or do anything to pleasure yourself. You have to lie perfectly still and just listen to me touching myself and telling you all the things I wish I’d be able to do to you if I'd be home right now. And when I say 'green light’ that’s when it’s your turn to play with yourself, and I’ll have to listen. That’s when you get to touch yourself, rub your clit and finger yourself; do everything to try and make yourself cum. You understand?“

You nod your head in confirmation before realizing your boyfriend can’t see you, opening your mouth to whisper your words of confirmation into the eerie silence of your apartment, "Yes, I understand.”

"Good girl.“

You clench your eyes shut for a moment at the term of endearment falling from his lips, exhaling slowly through your nose to keep yourself from letting your fingers brush over your exposed skin. Once again, you can hear rustling on the other end of the line. An almost inaudible grunt echoes in your ear before Sunghoon begins speaking again, "We’ll go back and forth like that until I tell you to cum, alright? I want you to be honest with me if you don’t want to do this with me.”

You can’t help but chuckle slightly at your boyfriend, ever the gentleman, but also feel oddly touched by him making sure you’re comfortable with what’s about to happen between the both of you — all of this just because of an innocent selfie shared with him after a stressful day at work. Taking a deep breath, you try your best to control the shakiness of your voice, which you know will inevitably be there once you open your mouth to answer Sunghoon.

"Don’t worry about me, Hoon. I’m okay with this, and we always said we wanted to try some new stuff. I’m excited to try this with you.“

He sighs in relief at your reassurance, "And you’ll tell me if it gets too much? Or if you end up not liking it?”

You can't help but snort slightly at the way your boyfriend’s voice goes from deep and husky to soft and gentle within the blink of an eye, “Of course I will! I promise I'll let you know if I'm uncomfortable in any way. And we both know I wouldn’t be able to lie to you even if I tried.”

You both quietly laugh together for a few moments before Sunghoon clears his throat, his voice much deeper when he talks into his phone again, “Before we get started, do me a favor and put yourself on speaker phone. I'm gonna do the same so we have both our hands free, alright?”

"Okay,“ you reply with a hushed tone before taking your phone away from your ear and tapping the screen to put it on speaker.

"Ready to get started?”

His voice is louder in your room now, almost enough to convince you he’s right beside you, sitting on the edge of your bed and telling you what to do while watching you with hungry eyes, if not for the slight static sounds and rustling coming from your phone. The sad reality, however, is that he’s not in your bedroom, nowhere near you in fact, and if you were to reach out, your fingertips wouldn’t be able to brush against his hot and flushed skin like you desperately wish they would. It frustrates you, not being able to feel him on your body, but you force yourself to remember he’ll be back home soon — as a matter of fact, he'd be coming home in 10 days — and you both will get to catch up on moments missed together. Snapping back to reality, you take a deep breath, curious as to how this 'game’ Sunghoon has planned will turn out.

"Yeah, I’m ready,“ you breathe out, your fingers twitching to touch yourself, to run them down your body until you’re met with your already sopping core, but, as hard as it is, you refuse yourself and the need to do just that.

While you’re lying in your bed, desperate to touch your body, Sunghoon begins to pull down his underwear, his hard and aching cock springing free and hitting his lower abdomen. With a groan, he starts teasing himself with one finger, running it over the slit of his dick, the head red and angry after being ignored for so long already.

"Just got my cock out,” he moans slightly as his finger slowly collects droplets of his precum, “it’s so hard for you already, desperate to be touched...Remember, it’s a red light for you at the moment, baby. You have to lie still and just listen to me as I start touching myself.”

Adding a second finger, Sunghoon slides them over the underside of his cock, running them along the prominent vein there until he reaches the base of his cock. Wrapping his fingers around his thick girth, he lets out a relieved sigh. Having his own hand around himself comes nowhere close to the amazing feeling of your hand dragging up and down his stiff length, but knowing you’re lying in your bed, wanting nothing more than to touch yourself, and having to listen to your boyfriend’s sounds of pleasure is good enough for him at this moment.

"Oh fuck, do you hear how turned I am for you, baby? So turned on, knowing you can’t do anything else but listen to me touch myself, desperate to run your fingers down your own body, huh?“

His panting fills the void of your room, your fingers burying themselves into your duvet as you try to hold back from moving even a single muscle in your body. He lets out a grunt that echoes off your walls, sending shockwaves straight to your cunt as you find yourself wishing, hoping, _needing_ for him to tell you it’s your turn to touch yourself. Your breathing speeds up as you continue listening to your boyfriend, his soft moans, his groans, his grunts. The mental picture of him laying with his cock out, his hand wrapped around himself, burns itself into your mind, and you swear you've never been so jealous of someone’s hand before.

Sunghoon groans again as he lets his thumb swipe over the head of his cock, collecting the beads of his precum, continuing to relish in the sensation, "Feels so good, stroking my hand up and down my cock. Just knowing you’re listening to me doing these things, waiting for me to tell you it’s your turn.”

Your breathy moan interrupts him, your thighs clenching in impatience, "Sunghoon, please…wanna touch myself.”

"Ah, ah. Poor thing…don’t worry, it’s gonna be your turn soon.“

Sunghoon smirks, even though he's aware you’re not able to see it. Knowing you’re desperate, _so desperate_, to touch yourself — something you usually were rather shy about when the two of you are together — turns him on even more, his cock hardening even more in his hand as he continues to stroke himself.

"You wanna touch yourself, baby?”

"Please,“ you whine, throwing your head back as your self-control is wearing thin, "please let me touch myself.”

"Okay, green light for you.“

Taking his hand off his cock takes more effort and willpower than Sunghoon would’ve ever thought and is willing to admit, but he’s instantly rewarded when he hears the relieved moan falling from your lips and echoing through his hotel room. He can’t help but thank the heavens for the fact that he doesn't have to share a room with any of the other guys, or, god forbid, a manager. On top of that, the hotel rooms thankfully happen to be soundproof, so he truly doesn't have to worry about anyone outside of these four walls hearing him, no passing staff members or hotel employees — otherwise, he knows, he would have a great deal of explaining to do or deal with some peculiar glances thrown his way and hushed whispers surrounding him for the entire length of their stay.

While your boyfriend is struggling to place his hands next to his body, restraining from touching himself, you want to immediately run your hands down your body and touch your swollen lips to relieve the tension between your legs, play with your clit and thrust your fingers into your wet cunt until you’d finally get to cum. However, Sunghoon has other plans for you.

"I know you want to touch your pussy but you need to wait a bit longer, go slow on this green light.”

"I can’t,“ you whine at him, a pout prominent on your lips as you start to get annoyed at your boyfriend for teasing you, or rather making you tease yourself, like this.

"I know you can. Don’t be a brat now; just listen to what I'm telling you to do,” Sunghoon’s voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone, and you sigh in submission, giving him the clear to continue with his instructions, “I want you to touch your body. Slowly. Close your eyes and imagine me there while you play with your breasts, tweak your nipples, pull on them until they’re all hard and perky.”

You follow his directions, your hands lightly pushing the material of your shirt over your chest, running them over the hot skin of your chest, fingers playing with the rim of your areola to tease yourself before you ghost over your nipples. Your breathing speeds up as you finally start to feel actual pleasure shooting through your body, tiny jolts setting your veins alight as you start to roll your perky buds between your fingers. Breathy moans fall from your lips as you pinch your nipples, occasionally pulling on them just to let them snap back down, the slight sting of pain only intensifying your bliss.

"Such a good girl, doing what I tell her to do. Go on, run your fingers down your body to your pussy, stroke the inside of your thighs, and over the outside of your lips all while imagining me lying on my bed with my hard cock resting on my stomach, twitching to be touched,“ Sunghoon rasps as he’s thinking about how you must look, touching your body to his voice as you’re writhing on your bed, desperate for your release already.

He knows how impatient you can get, often whining for him to go harder, faster, to stop teasing you whenever you’re together, even though he likes to take his time with you. He enjoys riling you up until you’re nothing but a whining and moaning mess underneath him, until even the smallest brush of his fingers against your swollen clit could send you over the edge, and so, with your consent, of course, he often finds himself reveling in your impatience, enjoying the desperation written on your entire body as he edges you over and over again.

You, on the other hand, want nothing more than to plunge your fingers into your dripping heat, wet enough for two of them to slip right past your lips. Your hips jerk off the mattress when your fingers first make contact with the inside of your thighs, already so sensitive just from listening to your boyfriend pleasure himself and stroke his dick.

"Can you feel yourself getting wet, baby?” Sunghoon’s voice sounds choked, almost as if it pains him not to touch himself while having to listen to your breathy moans and pants.

"Yeah…“ you whine as you slide your hand between your thighs, your fingers running over your lower lips and feeling your silky essence coat your skin, your other hand continuing to tug at your perk nipples and massage your breasts, "so wet for you.”

"Only me?“ he asks with a strained voice, his hands clenching beside his legs as he continues to listen to the little noises slipping past your lips as you run your fingers over your body, jaw tensing as he resists the urge to touch his aching cock, leaking against the taunt skin of his stomach.

You give him a desperate whine in reply as your hand bumps against your swollen clit, desperate to get some attention from your fingers as well, "Only you. Only for you, Sunghoon.”

"Go on then, baby. Go and finger yourself for me. Just one finger for now, though.“

Sighing in relief, you finally slip a finger between your legs, sliding it into your center, curling it upwards and moving it inside you as moans tumble past your parted lips, raw from biting them to try and keep quiet, not that you care about your noises anymore now.

"Feels so good, fuck, Sunghoon…please let me cum,” you beg for your boyfriend, already dreading the moment he’s going to tell you to pull your finger out of your pussy again, knowing it will inevitably happen once he hears you getting closer to your orgasm.

"You wanna cum? You wanna cum all over your greedy finger, baby?“

You whimper out in response, the tip of your finger barely grazing against that one spot inside you that your boyfriend is usually able to reach without any problems, his long fingers curving in your cunt as he brings you to the edge over and over again. You slip a second finger into your pussy, a small part of you hoping two of your fingers would come at least partially close to how his usually feel inside of you. With no avail. Dreaming about Sunghoon’s fingers only makes your thighs quiver even more, tears of frustration forming in your eyes since you know your fingers will never feel as good inside you as his do. 

"Answer me, baby,” Sunghoon’s demand snaps you out of your daydream, your fingers continuing to twist and curl inside you.

"Wanna cum…p-please, I wanna cum so badly-“

Sunghoon can tell you’re frustrated based on the choked sound cutting off the whine in your voice — and he almost feels bad for you. He knows you're usually not a fan of touching yourself without any help, his specifically, but he puts his faith in you and this little game the two of you are playing, trusting that you’ll be able to finish by just listening to him pleasure himself and his voice while his body succumbs to his carnal needs. Despite this, you’re still able to feel your walls flutter around your fingers as the heel of your palm nudges against your swollen clit, drawing a sobbed whimper from you.

"That’s too bad, baby. Red light for you now.”

You mewl in protest, wanting nothing more than to keep your fingers buried inside you until your release would finally wash over you. However, not wanting to disobey your boyfriend — and especially not wanting to deal with his punishments — you slowly pull your fingers out of yourself. Your digits are coated in your essence as you place your hands next to your body, smearing your juices onto the skin of your thigh, waiting with anticipation to hear Sunghoon’s groans resonate from the speakers of your phone.

In the bed of his hotel room all the way in Japan, Sunghoon moves his hand back to his cock, fingers wrapping around himself, slowly sliding it up his length until he reaches the top, his thumb running over the head to spread the pre-cum leaking from it over his hot skin. He groans your name at the motion, imagining it was your hand wrapped around him instead, imagining you sitting between his spread-out legs, your mouth kissing up and down his shaft, lips closing around him just for him to thrust into your wet heat while fisting your hair.

"Sunghoon,“ your whine interrupts his train of thought, his eyes flashing open to stare at the cold wooden ceiling of his room, "talk to me, please. Tell me what you’re doing.”

"That what you want?“ he rasps, continuing to stroke himself as his hips buck up to meet his fist.

"Yes, please,” your voice is small as you respond, almost as if you’re scared to admit your lewd thoughts, scared to get judged or ridiculed despite knowing your boyfriend would never do anything like that, would never make you feel like you have to hide yourself from him.

He chuckles slightly at your request, discovering a new side, a dirty side of you that you have never shown him before whenever you two have been together. He grunts as he tightens the grip around his dick, the muscles in his lower abdomen drawing taut as he feels himself inching towards his own orgasm.

"Fuck,“ he grunts as he lets his thumb slide over his slit a few times, his legs clenching at the pleasure rushing through his body, "stroking my hand over myself, wishing it was yours instead of mine. I’m thinking about all the times I’ve had your pretty lips around me, the noises coming from you as I pull on your hair to guide your head up and down my cock until you let me fill your mouth with my cum. Thinking about it dribbling past your lips, running down your chin, and making a mess of you before I fuck you into the mattress, throwing your legs over my shoulders as you scratch up my back.”

You can’t help but let your hand wander back towards your core again, running it over your swollen sex before you let two of your fingers rub small circles on your clit. You whine at the feeling, wanting to finally, finally give in to your body's pleas. However, what you forget to think about is that Sunghoon knows you; in fact, he knows almost better than you know yourself, your body, your movements — and the noises you make when he's fucking you. The moment you moan at the feeling of your fingers on your aching clit, he knows you’re touching yourself despite it not being your turn yet. His eyes snap open, his hand stills on his hardened cock as his eyebrows furrow in disbelief, not quite wanting to believe what his ears are hearing.

"Babygirl, I said red light,“ he pants after picking up his movements again, the sound of his hand stroking himself clearly audible at your end of the line, "you stop when I say so. Don’t make me punish you when I get back home.”

Your breath hitches and your fingers pause their movements. The whine falling from your lips could be described as nothing short of pathetic as you mumble out a halfhearted apology, your hands trembling as you pull them away from your wet, almost dripping, pussy. Your legs start twitching in response, your body burning at the denied orgasm, so close to the edge but not allowed to let yourself submit to the feeling just yet. You can’t help but hate yourself for giving in, weighing in the option of just taking your boyfriend’s punishment once he’s back by your side, but, in the end, you know the kind he would give you wouldn’t be just a few spankings until your ass would be raw and red. 

Oh no, knowing Sunghoon, he wouldn’t let you cum for several days until you were a begging and delirious mess for him, the only thing on your mind being him and his cock. Only then would he allow you to cum, after making sure you’d tell him — assure him while sitting on your knees with his hard cock in front of you, your hands wrapped tightly around it — that you wouldn’t disobey him again. It had happened before after all, only once, but enough to engrave it into your memory, the way your body trembled, your mind reeling at the denied orgasm, your lower lips so uncomfortably drenched you felt like you were going insane.

Sunghoon continues to stroke himself, moaning your name into his room and, once again, thanking the universe for his hotel room being soundproof as well as the fact that it was still early enough for him to be sure none of the other members would be awake right now to disturb him. His heart is beating out of his chest as he listens to your shuddering breath and soft whimpers sounding through the speakers of his phone. He can tell you’re trying your hardest to hold back, wanting nothing more than to touch yourself again, to finally rub your clit once more and make it over the finishing line, but you're keeping yourself from it in order to please him, to not make him punish you. And he absolutely loves it. Loves knowing the control he has over you even several hundred miles away from you.

"Sunghoon…please,“ you breathe out, whiney, your begs sounding like a broken record.

"Use your words, baby,” he says, his voice cracking as he tugs especially hard on his thick cock, "tell me what you want.”

"Please, p-please wanna touch myself again…“ you beg for your boyfriend, desperate to push your fingers back inside your sopping core and make yourself cum, being denied your orgasm too often already.

"Fuck, so desperate for me…you like playing with your pretty little pussy that much, huh?”

You nod despite Sunghoon not being able to see, a frail, nothing short of desperate, moan slipping past your lips. Your walls clench around nothing, begging to be filled up again, to have your fingers rub against them. Your legs twitch in anticipation, muscles tensing up, and you have to grip onto the duvet that’s pooled around your hips in order to not give in to the urge to touch your body despite it not being your turn just now. Hearing those sounds coming from you, Sunghoon can’t help but feel sorry, stilling the movements of his hand before letting out a deep sigh.

"Alright, it’s your turn again. Green light for you, but I want you to follow my lead again, okay, baby?“

"Okay. Thank you,” you sigh, your body relaxing again at the thought of you finally getting to finish.

"I want you to rub your hands over your body. Run them over your breasts, circling your fingers around your nipples, and then down your tummy to work your way towards your pussy. Now…put your fingers along the insides of your thighs and push them wide apart; are you following what I’m saying, baby?“

You moan in confirmation, your fingers running over the sensitive insides of your thighs, turning you on even more than you already are, ready to push them into your weeping hole as soon as he tells you to. Your nipples are hard and pert against the cold air inside your bedroom, desperate for your attention, which is directed towards another part of your body.

Sunghoon clears his throat before he continues, need and want turning his voice hoarse, "I want you to imagine this while you’re fucking yourself, while you’re trying to make yourself cum right now. I want you to imagine the skin of my face brushing against the insides of your legs; imagine my mouth coming closer and closer to your pussy, my hot breath fanning over your wet lips. And before you even realize it, imagine my tongue running over them, gliding from one end up to the other, drinking you in, sucking on your clit as I’m going down on you.”

You almost can’t hear him from the squelching sounds your soaked pussy makes as your fingers move inside of you. Your mind is rushing, scrambling to get your mouth to produce any other sounds besides the constant moans spilling past your lips.

"Fuck,“ you cry out, throwing your head back and straining your neck.

Your body shivers as you imagine everything he just told you, his hands all over your body, his tongue on your cunt. Arching your back off of the mattress, your walls clench around your fingers, which never stop working their way in and out of you.

"Imagine my head between your thighs, your hands tugging on my hair as I’m pushing my tongue inside you, tasting your essence in my mouth. Keep playing with yourself, baby. Keep imagining me right there with you. Bet you wish it were my fingers buried deep in your cunt instead. You’re really close, aren’t you?”

You reply with a weak moan, “Yes, please, please…”

Sunghoon knows the telltale signs of you being close to your orgasm, and even without seeing you, he can still hear the way your moans get more and more whiny, your breathing speeding up, and your vocal cords producing the most beautiful sounds as you groan out his name, causing his dick to twitch against his stomach, untouched. Just before you can feel yourself tumbling over the edge, he tells you to stop again, the two simple words spoken into the void of your room the most torturous thing he has ever done to you.

Your body listens before your mind even processes his words, your hands moving away from your dripping and clenching pussy as soon as those words leave his mouth. You throw your head back in irritation, your eyes fluttering open, tears of frustration burning behind them, your skin scorching hot as you try to calm your breathing. Pleasure slowly fades away, slipping from your grasp, and all you’re left with is a dull ache between your legs, feeling empty after you pull your fingers away from your drenched folds, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Sunghoon’s chuckle sounds out of your phone in reaction to your whiny sob ripping its way from your vocal cords, “You didn’t think I’d let you get off this easy, did you? Now, you gotta listen to me again..."

He groans as he lets his hand glide up and down his cock again, his breathing quickly turning into messy panting. He tries to force himself to not go too fast, wanting to draw out his orgasm even more than he already had. Sunghoon doesn’t want to cum before getting to hear your beautiful and desperate moans again, needy whines echoing through his hotel room while you’re pleasuring yourself. No, he doesn’t want to miss out on that experience.

The thought of you lying on your bed — your body damp and sticky due to the sweat coating your skin while your hands are pressed against your sides, fingers twitching with anticipation — drives him absolutely insane. He can’t wait to come back home and reward you for doing this experiment with him, licking you up until you would be trembling underneath the slightest of his touch, just to drive you over the edge again and again.

"God, I’m so hard just from thinking about going down on you. I love it so much, eating you out, seeing your eyes roll back into your head as I wrap my lips around your swollen clit,“ a choked moan cuts him off as he throws his head back, his throat straining at the effort to keep himself from cumming, "hearing you whimper, hearing you moan my name, whining for me to make you come…”

Being able to listen to him moan like this, so desperate for his release, draws out an involuntary shudder that makes your pussy throb in anticipation and need. You clench your fingers by your side to keep yourself from running them over your trembling body, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palms.

"Fuck…Sunghoon, please. I wanna cum, please, let me touch myself again,“ you whine desperately, being denied too many times now.

Sunghoon nods on the other end of the line, not that you’re able to see it, but he groans in confirmation, "Go on, touch yourself to my moans. I want to cum together with you, fuck…rub your pretty little pussy for me, baby.”

Sighing in relief, you instantly move both of your hands down your body towards your core, slipping two digits past your wet lips while the fingers on your other hand start rubbing circles on your swollen clit. You’re past the point of wanting to build up to your orgasm, ready to let it crash over you and take you with it until you’re completely wrecked.

"God,“ he almost growls into your ear, his voice strained with effort, "I’m imagining you, laying in bed. I bet your fingers are pressing really _really_ hard and quick circles against your clit, huh?”

"Y-yes! Please, please feels so good," you babble out, your own thoughts not making any sense to you anymore.

Your panting becomes erratic, whines falling from your mouth as you feel yourself teetering on the edge. The pace of your fingers quickens, and you can’t help but let a loud moan slip past your lips, your lower one slipping out of the grasp your teeth had on it just moments ago. Your moans turn into whines and heavy breathing as your toes curl at the pleasure pricking at every nerve in your entire body. Moving your hand away from your clit, you let it ghost over your body, dragging your fingernails over your scorching skin until you reach your breasts to roll one of your nipples between your fingers.

"That's it, come on, say it now. Say it for me, baby,“ he urges you, desperate to release all over his hand, the head of his cock colored an angry red as he continues to pump himself to the pace of your breaths.

"Shit…I-I’m gonna cum,” you stutter, your voice airy and feeling lightheaded as your body threatens to get overwhelmed with desire.

"Yeah? Gonna cum all over your fingers for me, baby? Gonna cum so hard, your thighs will shake for days when you think about this? Won’t be able to walk today?“

You mewl loudly in response, your walls fluttering and twitching around your fingers, your palm rubbing against your swollen clit as your other hand grips tightly onto your breasts, tweaking and pinching your nipple, "Fuck…y-yeah...”

Your boyfriend groans at the other end in response to your noises, his breaths nearing erratic as he rushes to meet the pace of your movements with his own stroking, his hand fisting up and down his hard cock, “Cum for me, baby. Cum all over your fingers like the good girl you are for me.”

"Ah, fuck…fuck me, feels so good!“

You move your hand away from your chest, angling the fingers buried inside you so you could press quick small circles against your aching clit again, and soon enough you’re choking out a loud moan, your voice echoing off your bedroom walls as you feel yourself coming closer and closer to your release.

Your orgasm crashes over you in one big wave of heat, your back arching off your bed as your hand stills inside your pussy. Your release gushes from your core, coating parts of your trembling hand. Drool threatens to escape past your lips as your jaw slackens, the moans tumbling from your mouth come nothing short of pornographic, your orgasm too intense for you to bite them back or even attempt to contain them. 

Loud groans fill your room, joined by the wet sounds of your boyfriend pumping his cock at a mind-blowing pace, coming straight from the speakers of your phone as you hear him panting faster and faster until he grunts out, "Oh fuck, shit…I’m cumming, I-I’m cumming!”

Sunghoon desperately continues to stroke his cock as it twitches in his hands, his muscles burning with strain as they tighten all over his body. He throws his head back as his vocal cords produce the loudest groan you’ve ever heard come from your boyfriend’s throat. His chest heaves up and down as he shoots his release all over his hand and his lower abdomen, completely emptying himself onto his burning skin. He continues to lazily move his hand up and down his cock to ride out his high until sensitivity starts to settle in and he pulls his hand away from his slowly softening dick, letting out a low sigh in relief.

Slowly, his breathing starts to even out, his body relaxing; he feels his muscles loosening up, and he revels in the lightness of his body after his orgasm. The thin sheen of sweat that covers his body begins to dry on his skin, still hot and burning, and the sticky feeling makes him cringe slightly — not that he cares in this moment. Through the speakers of his phone, he can hear your breathless panting. Reaching over, he holds onto the device to press it against his ear again, wanting to have your voice echo directly into his ear.

Just as Sunghoon, your breathing starts to slow down little by little, the familiar hazy weightlessness taking over you. You almost feel as if you’re floating through the clouds, even though, at the same time, you find your body wanting nothing more than to sink deeper and deeper into your mattress until it would be swallowed wholly.

Pulling your fingers out of your ruined cunt, you can’t help but whine as you take in the mess you’ve made of the top of your duvet, “Sunghoon…I made a mess.”

"Yeah? Made a mess for me? Wanna show me?“ he teases you lightly, his voice sounding louder, which leads you to assume he has his phone in his hand again instead of carelessly tossed onto his bed.

"Mhm,” you shake your head in denial, “I’m all gross and sticky.”

"Baby, we’ve had sex before; it’s nothing new for me to see you this way. But if you don’t want to show yourself to me right now, you don’t have to. Whatever makes you the most comfortable.“

You can’t help but smile as your boyfriend’s soft and caring side pushes its way back to the forefront again, shoving his dominant side back down until the next time you'd find yourselves in a similar position — maybe when you're finally face-to-face again. He has always been caring after sex, making sure you had everything you needed and weren’t uncomfortable in any way. There have been several occasions of him carrying you towards your bathroom, sitting you down in the bathtub, and running you a hot bath before sliding right behind you, his big hands massaging your shoulders and running over your scalp to relieve any tension in your body. Some rare times, you had even fallen asleep, right there surrounded by the hot water causing your muscles to relax and your boyfriend's arms wrapped tightly around you, your eyes slipping close, and the next time you opened them, you were lying in bed next to Sunghoon, covers draped over you and his soft snores filling the silence of your bedroom.

You snap out of your memories to reach over to your bedside table, grabbing some tissues out of the box standing there to carefully wipe away the mess between your legs before taking two of the wet wipes you’re keeping there as well to sporadically clean yourself until you’d be able to muster the strength to get up and walk over to your bathroom — or would fall asleep from the exhaustion starting to settle into your bones.

"Thank you, Hoon.”

"What are you thanking me for, baby?“ he chuckles right into your ear.

"Just…this. You know how hard it is for me to cum when we’re not together, and I’ve had a really crappy day yesterday, so...I really needed this,” you explain to your boyfriend, your face heating up at the confession.

You’re truly grateful to have him in your life. Even if he often doesn’t realize it, but the smallest things he does, like making sure you’re comfortable with everything and anything he does, encouraging you whenever you are feeling down, or even just picking up a snack you mentioned running out of. All those things and so many more make you feel at home around him, wanting to keep him in your life until the day you’d die.

Sunghoon laughs slightly, and you can hear him swallow thickly before he replies, “There’s no need to thank me. I love you, and I care about you. Despite your selfie yesterday being sexy as fuck, I could tell you weren’t feeling well. That was the real reason I called you in the first place. To check up on you and cheer you up. But of course this is also a nice way to spend the morning before a busy day and the concert later tonight.”

"I love you, too,“ you reply, not quite knowing how to appropriately respond to your boyfriend's words.

"You do know I’ll have to punish you when I get back home, right? For not listening to me back there?”

You could swear you can hear the smirk on his face through your phone when he says those words, lowering his voice until it’s almost comically husky. Laughter slips past your lips, your boyfriend joining you in it as you say, through your laughs, “Sure. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Sunghoon clears his throat on the other end of the line after both your laughter dies down before you hear some rustling and his feet patting on the floor of his hotel room, “What do you have planned today? No work, right?”

Before you get to answer, you hear the water tap turn on in the background as your boyfriend had gotten up to walk to the bathroom of his hotel room and wash his hands. Meanwhile, you are staying in bed, exhausted, and your muscles still twitching slightly from the intense pleasure you felt just moments ago. You take a few moments to reply, wanting to relish the comforting silence between the two of you.

"Not really, to be honest. I was thinking of maybe heading to the store for ice cream or snacks later and then just catching up on some shows and spending the day curled up on the couch. Do you have a lot to do today other than the concert?“ you finally answer his question, finishing your response with another question in hopes of being able to talk to Sunghoon some more before he would have to hang up to attend to his schedule for the day, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

"No, we only got soundcheck in the afternoon, and that's it,” he replies to you, turning off the running water before he dries his hands with his phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder, all while continuing to talk to you, “I think maybe two or three interviews tomorrow, but that should be it…”

"Sounds great,“ you yawn in response, reaching up to run your hand over your face in hopes of waking yourself up some more.

"Go back to sleep, baby. You deserve some rest; take it easy today, okay?” he chuckles, his voice turning even softer than before, almost as if he’s hoping to lure you to sleep with his deep baritone.

He truly hates whenever you force yourself to stay awake just to talk to him. He recalls the endless nights while he had been stuck in a different timezone, on tour in the US, preparing for concerts and countless interviews while also juggling livestreams, the late-night conversations with you, your voice slurred as you'd force yourself not to fall asleep just to be irritated and exhausted the entire following day until you'd get to hear his voice again. And even though he’s now only a few hours away, in the same timezone for a change, knowing he'll be back within less than two weeks, the memories instantly weigh down on his chest, his heart with guilt, not wanting you to neglect you and your needs just for him.

"Okay…you're right...“ your voice slightly drifts off before you ask one last question, "Sunghoon?”

He perks up, his gaze previously settled on the stark white covers of his bed, almost as if you were in the room with him and he would be able to look straight into your eyes when he looks up through his lashes. His heart drops as he’s looking at the bare wall opposite of him, despite knowing he wouldn’t have found you standing there anyway.

"Yeah?“ he replies instantly, matching your low volume with his voice to lull you further to sleep and not startle you right out of it.

"I love you,” you whisper, exhaustion finally catching up with you.

 You want to stay awake longer, want to use every possible second to talk to your boyfriend some more, but you're also aware of the fact that he hates you staying away just for his sake. You know it makes him feel guilty for not being beside you, not being able to hold you as you fall asleep, even though you have told him time and time again that you can live with the occasional distance; it’s what you signed up for after all when you started dating an idol, a member of one of the most sought-after boy groups of the moment at that.

Your eyes feel heavier and heavier as you finally give in and let sleep take over your body, dozing back off to sleep with your phone slowly slipping out of your hand.

On the other end of the line, Sunghoon knows you have fallen asleep when he hears the soft thud of your phone hitting the mattress, your soft breathing filling his ear as he smiles to himself, satisfied to not have you awake any longer and overexert yourself further. He whispers his next words, more to himself than with the intention of you hearing him.

"I love you, too. I’ll text you when I know at what time I’m gonna be coming home. Now get some sleep.“

©sungbeams — all rights reserved. i do not give permission to copy, repost, modify or translate my works.