#How to know the tire speed rating
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vividracing · 11 months ago
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New Post has been published on https://www.vividracing.com/blog/what-are-tire-speed-ratings-explained-in-60-seconds/
What Are Tire Speed Ratings? Explained In 60 Seconds
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It’s important for every car owner to understand tire speed ratings, as they are indeed critical and reflect the maximum speed capability of a tire. These ratings are vital for ensuring safety and performance, especially when matching tires to a vehicle’s capabilities. For a tire with this reading 185/60R15C 94/92T, here’s what it’s speed rating would be;
Understanding the Speed Ratings
The speed rating is indicated by the alphabetical letter on a tire, in this case the letter T, correlates to the maximum speed the tire is designed to safely sustain for an extended period. These ratings are established through rigorous testing and evaluation.
Speed and Durability Correlation
It’s essential to note that a tire’s speed rating doesn’t just signify the maximum speed it can handle but also its ability to endure prolonged use at that speed. Tires rated for higher speeds usually have reinforced constructions, enhanced materials, and improved heat dissipation to withstand the forces and heat generated at higher velocities.
Application and Safety
When selecting tires for a vehicle, it’s crucial to match the speed rating with the vehicle’s top speed capabilities. Using tires with a lower speed rating than the vehicle’s capabilities could compromise safety and performance, especially during high-speed driving or emergency maneuvers.
Click Here to Buy a Tire from Our Shop 
Factors Beyond Speed
It’s important to consider that speed isn’t the only factor influencing tire safety and performance. Traction, handling characteristics, load capacity, road conditions, and other aspects play significant roles in tire performance and safety. Thus, choosing the appropriate tire involves considering a range of factors beyond just speed ratings.
Balancing Speed with Real-World Usage
While speed ratings are informative, many drivers rarely push their vehicles to the maximum speeds indicated. Thus, choosing a tire with an appropriate speed rating that aligns with the vehicle’s typical usage and the driver’s habits is often more practical and safe.
In summary, speed ratings offer essential information about a tire’s capabilities, especially regarding speed endurance and safety. However, it’s essential to consider a broader spectrum of factors to ensure the optimal tire choice for a vehicle, balancing safety, performance, and real-world usage.
@vividracing
No wonder why Tire Speed Ratings are difficult to understand, the system doesn’t make sense Hopefully this will bring some clarity! #vividracing #carparts #carknowledge #tires
♬ original sound – Vivid Racing
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Comfort Crowd
main masterlist | supernatural masterlist
summary: dean just needs you next to him
pairing: (stanford era) dean winchester x female reader
rating: R for language 
word count: 1.9k
warnings: hurt/sad dean, language, reader drives after drinking but she’s not drunk, that’s it i think
author’s note: i know this gif is of jason teague and not dean winchester but that’s literally samford era jackles so i think it fits perfectly <3
music: comfort crowd by conan gray — was listening to conan gray and bam! dean winchester fic idea! anyways…
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When you saw who was calling your brows furrowed — Dean? You had talked to him earlier in the week, just a casual check-in to make sure you were both still alive. You and Dean had gotten into a fight about a month prior and you both decided to just take a break from each other. You had made it clear that you were not breaking up with him, you just needed a break.
Last time you talked he was working a case in Texas, something with ghouls and sororities. You had just finished up a werewolf hunt and he had voiced his jealousy. He hadn’t gotten to fight a werewolf in many, many moons (pun intended).
“Dean?” you answered the call, still holding your first beer of the night in your free hand. He didn’t say anything, there was only labored breathing on the other side and that worried you. “Dean? Honey, is everything okay?” He still said nothing. “Dean, what’s—”
“Where are you?” he asked. His voice was clearly on the verge of cracking. He’d been crying?
“Uh, Bakersfield California,” you told him. “Just finished another case, simple ghost hunt. What’s wrong, Dean?” He again went back to just breathing. “Dean, where are you?”
“I’m in Palo Alto,” he said. “You—Could you get up here, p-please? I need you, hun. I just—I need you here.”
“I’ll be right there Dean, four hours tops,” you told him. You stood up off your chair and paid your tab. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t…fuck, I just wanna see you…please?”
“Of course, Dean, I’ll be there soon,” you reminded him. “What motel are you staying at?”
“I can text you the address just please…please hurry.”
With that, he hung up. 
Please don’t be dying, you thought to yourself. 
**
After several traffic violations and broken speed limits, you were finally knocking on his door.
“Dean!” you called out, not caring if it was now nearly three in the morning and there were definitely other people staying at the motel. “For the love of god Dean, open the fucking door!”
He unlocked and opened the door, rubbing his tired eyes. “Hey, you made it.” He smiled a little…smiled?
“Dean what the hell is going on?” you asked, trying to stay calm as you walked into the room. “You—That call? What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” he shrugged, “I’m fine.”
“Fine?” You furrowed your brows. “Dean you called me in tears and asked me to race over here as if you were dying?”
“I…I wasn’t in tears,” he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Hang on…how do I know you’re you?” you asked. 
He smiled and rolled his eyes a little before you both did the usual tests.
“See, sweetheart? All me!” He smiled again.
“Dean,” you said softly, “what’s going on? Are you…Are you dying?”
“No!” he scoffed, not calming your nerves in the slightest. “I’m sorry I scared you I just…needed you here. With me, next to me. I—Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, Dean,” you shook your head, “I get it.”
You walked over to him and pulled him down into a hug; your right hand went to the back of his head as your fingers combed through his hair. 
“I’m here Dean, you’re okay,” you told him. His grip tightened around you, as if he was scared you’d break off the hug. “I’m right here.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking again. “Thank you.” 
The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. You were on your tiptoes, which was kind of uncomfortable, but your love for the man in your arms outweighed any discomfort. You felt Dean’s tears begin to dampen your neck and your eyes grew cloudy at the thought of him in pain. He truly mastered the art of silent crying, he must’ve had to hide his tears from that bastard father of his growing up, and that thought only made your heart break more. Your grip tightened around his shoulders and you turned your head so you could place a soft kiss on his temple. You made a trail of kisses down to his jawline then left your lips there against his skin. 
“Thank you,” he pulled away, “just…thanks.”
“Do you wanna lay down, Dean?” you asked. “We could cuddle up and maybe watch a movie? Or we could listen to music? I’ve got my iPod and we could share my earbuds?”
A soft smile returned to his tear-stained face and he nodded; “Music sounds perfect.”
“Mkay,” you replied. “Now, I have to admit I don’t have many Zeppelin songs downloaded—”
“It’s okay,” he shook his head, “I don’t care what song we play, as long…as long as you’re here. Just need your company.”
“Funnily enough, I do have some Bad Company songs,” you joked, causing his smile to grow. 
“You’re the best company,” he countered. 
“Why don’t you change into your PJs while I go get my bags from the car? We can get comfortable in the bed and maybe you’ll even get some sleep.”
**
Your fingers were once again tangled in Dean’s hair as his head lay on your chest, he was facing away from you but you knew he was still crying. You just didn’t know why.
“Is this Heuy Lewis?” Dean chuckled.
“Hey! No disrespecting Heuy!” you laughed, but Dean knew you were serious. “You want me to skip it?”
“Nah, I’ll live,” he joked. The joke made your heart clench a little though; your mind going back to the call he made to you a mere few hours ago. How scared he sounded. How scared you were as you raced to get to him. Dean must’ve sensed the change in the room because he made sure to remind you; “I’m fine.”
“You said that line already, Dean,” you said through a sigh. “I’m here if you wanna talk, okay?”
“I don’t wanna talk,” he mumbled. “I meant what I said—I just need you here with me, I just need you around.” 
Your free hand (the one that wasn’t currently in Dean’s hair) went to rub comforting circles on his upper back. He let out a contented sigh which made you smile.
“I love you, Dean,” you told him. “I love you more than anything, you know that, right?”
“Thank you,” he mumbled. He buried his face against your chest, trying to hide the sheepish smile forcing its way onto his face before he lifted his head so he could look into your eyes. “I love you so much.”
He leaned over and kissed you softly, his smile connecting with yours. He pulled away after a moment, simply looking into your eyes. He kissed you once more before laying back down, this time resting his head next to yours so he could kiss you again. 
“Sorry about your shirt,” he said, laughing awkwardly at the damp mess of spilled tears covering a fair portion of your tee.
“I don’t mind, kinda like my shirt soggy,” you shrugged with a smile, pulling him closer to you and tucking your head under his chin. 
**
When you woke the next morning you did not expect Dean to be singing to himself while making breakfast.
“What time is it?” you asked with a yawn as you sat up in bed. 
“About seven,” he replied. “Good morning, by the way.”
“Good morning.”
You hurried over to the small kitchen so you could wrap your arms around him from behind.
“What’s gotten into you?” he teased. 
“Could ask you the same question, handsome,” you replied, not letting go. “The food smells amazing and all, but since when do you cook?”
“Remember that fight we had?”
“I vaguely recall,” you said, somewhat flatly. 
“I’ve been working on my breakfast cooking so when I saw you again I could you know…woo you.”
“‘Woo me’?” You raised a brow, your smile growing. “You’re wooing me…with bacon?”
“Damn right!” he scoffed lightheartedly. “I know the way into your heart, and whether you admit it or not—it’s mother fuckin’ breakfast food.”
“You know me way too well,” you laughed. “I’m officially wooed.”
There was a comfortable silence before Dean answered the question he knew you were still wondering about; “Sam and I fought last night.”
“I’m sorry,” you said.
“I knew him going to a fancy college would put a bit of a rift between us…but fuck, sweetheart,” he said. He ran his hands down his face before he leaned against the counter and looked at you; “I think we…I don’t think Sammy and I will ever be as close as we were growin’ up ever again.”
“I’m sure that’s not true, Dean,” you assured him, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a comforting squeeze. “Sammy just needs time, maybe a bit of space, but that’s only temporary, Dean.”
“Seems like everyone around me always needs space,” he chuckled humorously. 
“If this is about what I said—”
“Nah, you don’t have to explain yourself, I get it!” He shook his head, faking a smile. “You couldn’t stand being around me all the time and hey, that’s okay.”
Your brows furrowed with slight anger; “That’s not what I said, Dean.”
“That’s what it sounded like,” he mumbled before he turned back to the stove to continue making breakfast. 
“Dean I love you, you know I love you!” you said. “I raced here last night when you asked me to, doesn’t that prove I love you!?”
“And what happens when we get into another fight?” he exclaimed. “What happens when you decide that you need more space and you don’t bother coming back to me?”
“That’s not going to happen?” you countered. 
“You can’t say that for sure,” Dean said. 
“Yes I can, Dean!”
“What makes you think that, huh?” he replied loudly. “What makes you think you aren’t gonna run the second you realize that putting space between was the best decision of your fucking life!?”
“Because I love you, Dean!” you said, matching his tone. “Because no matter how far away I was from you the one thought running through my head was that I should call you. That I should stop being so stubborn and run back to you.” You sighed as he continued cooking and you went up to him again, leaning on his bicep and running your hands up and down his forearm. “Because when I got that call…all logic flew out the window and all that mattered to me was getting to you. When I thought you might be dying I didn’t care about anything else and I raced to you like a mad woman. Like a girl so lovestruck she’s practically crazy!”
Dean let out a chuckle which made you smile.
“So…you’re sayin’ you missed me?” he asked, a cocky smirk finding its way to his lips.
“Yes,” you sighed dramatically. “Okay? Yes, Dean, I missed you like fuckin’ crazy, and I’m sorry for ever suggesting we take a damn break. But… you know what this means now, right?”
He looked at you cautiously; “What?”
“You’re stuck with me, Winchester.” You grinned. “And I’m never letting you go again.”
“Sounds good to me,” he replied as he leaned down and kissed you.
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1-800-local-slut · 1 month ago
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Elijah loves to fuck.
It’s a little bit scary because he’s one of those guys who you would expect it from but the real deal is way crazier. He’s the type to hold you in place while he kisses you down your neck and make sure you were literally shaking.
You’d think it would be Klaus who’s insatiable (and he definitely is) but Klaus is like that because he just randomly wants to fuck you. Elijah gets turned on like magic.
You can take off your coat, just a little bit slow with your hair wrapped around your shoulder and your neck is visible, and now you’re in missionary. You’re bouncing up and down, and Elijah’s gripping the sheets next to your head. He’s staring deeply into your soul as he thrusts into you hard. Like he wants to break your pussy or something. And he might be trying too, you never know with him.
He’s talking to you, but quite a bit to himself, about how good you feel. About how cute you are, about how you should know better than to get him turned on in the middle of the day, about how it’s okay because your so pretty that he just HAS to forgive you. And when you try to squeeze out a sentence of rebuttal his big strong hands grab your warm face and he plants a kiss to your lips that has you wriggling under him and hoping this lasts forever.
In his mind, it’s your fault that you both spend so much time in bed. That he can’t stop grabbing your breast (he hates whenever you call them tits if you must refer to them in a way like that then he’ll accept boobs) and he can’t stop putting them in his mouth and making you melt. You look so good and you take such good care of him and the people he cares about that he just has to reward you for that.
How can he stop himself? When he wakes up horny, and has to go through the day stuffed in his suit. Then he sees you preparing to make breakfast for him in the kitchen. With that ass he adores and those breast he just can’t get enough of. His favorite handfuls. Your braids that you insisted had to be waist length are pulled into a pony tail that frames your face perfectly with two curled strands cupping your soft face. And you’re probably wearing a sun dress to combat the NOLA summer sun. He can’t help but want to take you in the kitchen.
But Elijah is a gentleman so settles for hugging you from behind and letting his hands roam up and down while whispering enticements in your ear.
“Why don’t you just come up to bed?”
“Elijah it’s 9:30 in the morning, I’m far from tired”
“Why don’t you come up to bed and let me reward you for looking so good?”
And it always works. The combination of him touching you like that and kissing your neck and whispering in your ear? Oh yeah. Draws dropped.
Now you’re back in bed in your room which was still messy from the night before when you came home from dinner and he put you up against your bedroom door.
Your dress was still on the chair from where he tossed it off you.
And he’s slowly peeling your dress off your body, while you rip off the buttons of his shirt with a tenderness. He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you, and he might do that. But when he slips his hand into your underwear and feels how warm and wet you are it’s ridiculous. He has no time to do anything else he has to fuck you and he has to do it now.
After all this time, you still seemed a little embarrassed at how wet you were but the other thing Elijah loves is that you’re a grown woman who also likes to fuck.
It’s why you both work so well.
And he’s already gotten you started. He knows it, because he knew the second he started feeling the soft warmth of your stomach and he felt your heart rate speed up he knew it. Elijah Mikaelson doesn’t just lay with any woman. You had to be a freak on some level but he lucked out with you.
You’ve unbuttoned the top of his shirt, and you won’t stop kissing him. It’s like he’s hypnotized you (which he would never do, to Elijah your word is basically law) and you’re fully giving him power. Your hands fumble with his belt buckle and you make sure you run your hand over his erection a few times. He feels you smiling into his kisses as he jumps his hips into your hand.
The way you whimper when he picks you up and places you on your back on your shared mattress, he gets a smell of your perfume and can’t help the growl that escapes him. Then he’s holding you by your face as he demeans you just a bit for wanting him so bad.
“What would you do without me? There’d be no one to take care of you and we couldn’t have that could we?” Then he’s going to nibble you on your neck.
He decides, to hell with your dress. He could just rip it but he does like this dress on you and doesn’t feel like going to the store for a new one. He doesn’t want to take his hands off you. He doesn’t want to back away long enough to take off your dress. He pulls down the top to free your breast, stunned by their beauty like always. You had tan lines, one part of your skin a lighter brown than the rest. The area around your breast covered by your bikini more specifically when you two head out into the sun for a swim.
Your underwear he didn’t mind ripping off and you were trying your best to get as much of his shirt off as possible. One of you needed to be sensible though. So you pushed him off for just a moment and looked up at him while you tore off his belt. He was standing over you at the edge of the bed while you were on your knees still on the bed.
You wanted it so bad it made him laugh. You were looking at him with those big brown eyes and you were breathing heavily. He ran his hands over your braids, and couldn’t help but bite his lip when he imagined what he was about to do to you.
You yanked his pants down, and then his boxers. All seven and a half inches of him sprung out at you and you, ever eager, gave him a long lick. Elijah shuddered, it was like you just sent an electric shock up him. Good god you were something. But Elijah didn’t have the time for all that, because of course Elijah has to do something with his days. Like cleaning up after his siblings. He could always get a blowjob later. Maybe he’d give you some too. Who was he kidding? Elijah loved giving head like it was no one’s business. But I’ll write about that later.
Did I mention that he loves being on top of you? In the sense that he has to be on top of you intimately. Squished on top of you, while he fucks you and you cream all over him.
He slides into you and can’t help the groan that escapes him. His head rolls back on instinct, and you shudder entirely.
He starts moving, rocking his hips into yours the way you like. Warm and wet, and tight with your back arching slightly. He presses his chest down against yours with his shirt open and his suit jacket stuck against his sweaty skin. The bed starts rocking as he picks up the pace and pulls your head to look him in his eyes.
It’s your weak point naturally. Elijah knows he’s handsome that’s why he keeping looking at you like that. He knows you can’t handle staring him in the face like that, and that it makes you want to act all types of crazy when he’s inside of you.
He likes asking you questions while he pounds into you. He does it hard but in a way that doesn’t make you feel like he hates you.
“Tell me how you feel.” You know things along that line.
And when he gets close to cumming, you can see the veins under his eyes start to push to the surface. His breathing gets heavier, but the effect he has on you is so much worse. He doesn’t even know but the way he has you folded on your back, begging him to cum inside of you speaks volumes when you were usually such a composed woman. But Elijah usually wouldn’t be muttering nonsense about putting a baby in you (especially when you both know it isn’t possible) so it works.
He likes when you both cum at the same time. He likes squeezing your breast tenderly, with the right amount of aggression to turn you on. He’s in your head, filling your brain with filthy images. He’s talking you through it, and then you’re both cumming. Elijah cups your face and tosses his head back (partially because his instinct is to bite you and he doesn’t want to scare you by biting you with no warning) and you’re letting out moans that Elijah wants to die hearing.
Elijah loves to fuck. He loves the soft tender feeling of squishing you, and feeling you grind up against him. He’s loves spanking you when you act out (brat tamer Elijah is coming soon trust) of line. He loves squeezing your neck just slightly. He loves when you pull out your variety of freaky tricks and when you let him have full control over your body. He’s loves you above all else. And fucking your brains out is one of his favorite ways to show it.
༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻
You guys can’t stop me, I’m on a roll
Guys Elijah has literally possessed me and I’m very much happy about it. I will not stop writing about Elijah I don’t even care if this is bad I just needed people to see my thoughts about him. He’s been my man since I was ten.
Anyways I don’t really know what this is either, I was scrolling through tumblr and randomly saw some porn so now you guys get to read this. Love you all and thanks for reading 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾
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just-a-sewer-goblin · 5 months ago
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Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 7 whooohooow. We get the cofee date and more conversation! Yay
Also I'm dead tired, going straight to sleep after posting this forgive any spelling mistakes. Also please point it out to me if I messed up the description of the reader anywhere. I promise that's just because these are horribly self indulgend and I might slip up and put parts of me in there. But I wanna keep these as neutral and inclusive as possible because we all deserve to be self indulgend with these. Love you all!
< Part 6 | COD Masterlist | Part 8
Simon’s running late and he‘s cursing himself when he opens the door of the café he’s supposed to meet you at (he’s so glad you didn’t tell him to meet up at Johnny’s bakery, he wouldn’t have survived that).
He’s not even sure why he’s late and he’s glad Price doesn’t know about it, the old man would give him hell for not being on time, especially when it means making lovely little you wait. God, he can't believe he's making you wait, his chest tightening up slightly. What if you already left?
As soon as he steps in, he spots you and has to take a second to take the scene in. The café is cute and cozy; you’re nestled into a booth at the back anxiously watching the sidewalk through the window, your mutt laying by your feet. You’re probably looking for him and that makes him hastily walk towards your table. He really wants to kick himself for being late. Way to go and show you how important this is to him.
When you hear him approach you look up and your dog sits up, eyeing him. Your eyes are big and you look like you didn’t expect him to show up at all. Honestly you look like a deer caught in the headlights, like one wrong move might make you bolt (he really needs to tame you, put a collar on you so you won’t run).
Your expression makes Simon want to crumple to his knees so he might beg for forgiveness. His chest is slightly heaving from his race against time and you raise your hand in an awkward little wave.
“Hi…”, you say and hearing your lovely voice immediately makes his heart speed up.
“Hi, sweetheart. So sorry for being late.”, he apologizes and extends his hand for your dog to sniff. The beast recognizes him and deems him harmless, so he pulls out a chair for himself opposite of you. You already have a drink in front of you and you self-consciously stir the apparently empty cup (god, you’re adorable in your nervousness).
“It’s fine. I’m sorry I ordered already, wasn’t sure you were gonna show up.”, you admit quietly, eyes downcast looking at your drink. Simon’s heart breaks. He wants to cover your hand with his and tell you that nothing could keep him from showing up for you even if it means crawling from another grave.
Instead he starts taking off his jacket and says: “I’d never stand you up, sweetheart.”
That makes your eyes snap up to his and he feels his traitorous heart stumble over the next beat. A smile appears on your lips and he forgets what else he wanted to say when your gaze lands on his newly exposed forearms. Your eyebrows slightly lift seeing his tattoos.
Simon’s just about to grow worried that you don’t like tattoos (shit... maybe he should get a laser removal?) when he catches you biting your lips. This time it’s clearly not nervousness.
He’d never admit it but maybe he deliberately flexes his hands and makes a show of getting comfortable without his jacket until your attention is ripped away from him by a waiter asking for your orders (he could seriously knock the poor sod out for that).
When Simon looks at you again your eyes are on his face, your brows slightly furrowed and you cock your head (that would be the perfect angle for him to press his lips to yours). Suddenly he realizes that you’ve never seen him outside of the shop and you’re probably put off by the mask.
“You can ask.”, his voice is gruff and curt and he curses himself. He couldn’t have sounded more uninviting. This is just perfect, at this rate you'll end up leaving before you get your second drink.
“So… I assumed the mask was a hygiene thing but…”, you vaguely gesture to his face. “… evidently it’s not. May I ask why you’re wearing it?”
He barely suppresses a chuckle. Seems like you’re not as reserved as he thought. The pairing of your openness with your timid and shy demeanor makes for an interesting mix.
He finds himself appreciating your directness, something he hadn’t anticipated from you. Then again this date is for you to get to know him and decide whether he’s worthy of being in your presence again (apart from just buying meat).
“’s a habit from my military time. Now it feels odd to go without it.”, he explains simply. He doesn’t see any reason to be dishonest with you. He wants to get to know all of you, uncover all your secrets and hidden parts. If you find him interesting enough to ask about him too, who is he to deny a deity the knowledge about their worshipper?
You nod slowly, scrutinizing him. The next smile you send him is crooked and a bit apologetic. “Doesn’t make it all that much easier to trust you.”, you say.
“And seeing me would? What more would my face tell you?”, he genuinely questions.
That makes you pause for a second and he decides to go on. “People hide intentions behind expressions all the time. Now I might hide my expression but never my intentions.”
Instead of answering directly you look down at your dog.
“Well, Wraith likes you, which really already tells me a lot.”, you say and Simon nearly raises his fist in victory (he’s glad he didn’t forget to put some treats in his pocket).
Wait… “Wraith?”, he nearly chokes on his own spit when he repeats your dog’s name in question. Even after all this time he never asked for the name and never got a good look at his name tag.
Wraith…. a ghost. A ghost!
Your expression turns soft. Simon wishes you’d look at him like that. He’d happily lay on the floor by your feet if it would mean you’d look at him like that. “Yeah… Wraith.”
He watches you in rapt attention when you continue: “I just…”, you chuckle self-consciously. “I never found the idea of ghosts intimidating. And the idea of one of them appearing to you before or after death always sounded more like a guide or companion than horror and fear. Which is kind of what Wraith here is. Most people look at him and find him intimidating, they’re scared, when actually he’s the sweetest, purest pup and best companion anyone could ask for.”
Simon barely keeps from looking at Wraith again. To look for whatever you see in the ugly fucking dog. He’s glad he keeps his attention on you, because you look up, the slightest hint of embarassment on your face, the expression so adorable he feels like fainting (would you look at him like that if he called you his good little lovie?).
“I… sorry it’s silly…”
“It’s not.” Fuck why does his voice sound so raspy. “I like it. Appreciate you tellin’ me”, he quickly adds battling down the sudden urge to tell you about his own Ghost. He consciously keeps his hands from reaching for his mask and running over the skull print.
“I’ve always been afraid of ghosts.”, he admits and your eyes widen incredulously.
“You? You look like ghosts should be afraid of you, not the other way around.”, you blurt and he can already sense the oncoming apology so he makes sure he’s quicker.
“Thank you, lovie. That’s very flattering of you. Not sure how much these…”, and he flexes his biceps obnoxiously for you. “.. would do against incorporeal entities.” (Oh fuck was that weird? He was going for a joke but fuck that was weird wasn’t it? Shitshitshitshit you’re gonna think he’s one of those airheaded only brawn guys)
Simon’s about slap himself when you snort, cover your mouth and giggle, the sound settling warm in his stomach.
Then you seriously nod at him. “Don’t worry, big guy, I’ll protect you from ghosts. They might slip right through your big beefy arms but they’ll miss mine.” You flex your arms too and Simon bites back a grin when he's reminded of how much smaller you are than him. “Thin like trip wire, they won’t know what hit them. Literally.”
He chuckles, earnestly and from deep in his belly, and you grin at him, evidently more at ease. When you settle more comfortably in your chair, not as tightly coiled anymore like you might need to jump into action at any moment, Simon can’t help the protectiveness flaring in his chest. You’re too precious for your own good.
But you don’t need to worry anymore, especially not around him. He'll keep you safe.
You’ve got two guard dogs now.
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mixingpumpkins · 5 months ago
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Man, we really lost when we decided that the best way to feel safe or to try to prevent bad things from happening is to assume malicious intent from everyone and police every little fucking thing about existing.
Want to go shopping? You'll be treated like a thief. Security cameras, anti-theft sensors by the door, and a staff that may or may not follow you around isn't enough; we're also putting security tags on every single piece of $4 underwear in the bargain bin and keeping everything on the shelves under lock and key, so you can't even look at it without staff assistance/supervision. No, cameras and staff monitoring checkouts isn't enough. We also need someone else searching your bags and verifying your receipts at the door. (And god help you if a security sensor somewhere didn't get deactivated properly and the door alarm goes off.)
Are you a student taking an exam? We've already decided you're a cheater. Of course you are — all students cheat. So you get assigned, spaced out seats in the testing room, surrounded by cameras. Show us your photo ID at the door. Nothing goes in the room with you but your pencil. Leave your phone, wallet, water, and anything else in a locker outside. All your jewelry, too. No long sleeves. Let us check your hair/headbands/pockets/ears/religious garb in case you're smuggling something in. Need to leave for the restroom? No, you don't, or your exam is done. Emergency? You can choose between literally shitting yourself or failing your course and risking expulsion for cheating.
Online exam? Prepare to be subject to literal spyware. Your eyes better not waver a fraction out of the "acceptable" gaze window. Don't press any button you're not supposed to or mis-click anything; that's proof you're trying to cheat. Don't even think about shifting in your seat, even if your test is two hours long.
Do you work? It'd better be at top speed and no errors at all times. We have security cameras trained on you every moment, sensitive enough to read the text of any paper you handle. We're tracking exactly what you do and how fast. Did your metrics slip for even a second? Unacceptable, even if your rate is otherwise within our "acceptable" range, because we know you can work faster. Yawn? How dare you — we don't pay you to be tired. You're not working hard enough. You must not have enough to do — your requirements have now tripled and we've cut your pay as an incentive not to waste time again. Make a mistake? You must have done it on purpose. You must be trying to steal or sabotage. We'll be evaluating to see how quickly we can fire you and if we can press charges or sue you for damages.
Need to travel via plane? It doesn't matter if you're paying through the nose to do so; you're clearly a criminal who's only not committing a crime at this very moment because you're outnumbered by security officers. We need to question you excessively if you don't look exactly like your ID picture taken three years ago. Take off half your clothes and walk through our scanners that will basically show you without them. (Then prepare to be wanded, and possibly groped — maybe even by more than one person — and if we really feel like it, taken to another room to be stripped and questioned further.) You can't take some necessities with you. Your belongings will be x-rayed and pawed through and commented upon, and they're maybe even a reason to detain and question you further. Why does your purse have suspicious organic matter in it? No, that can't possibly be a bag of fruit snacks you bought from the kiosk 20 feet away; you're trying to hide explosives.
Need medication? You're lying. You're faking. You're just trying to get drugs. You're an addict. You're a dealer. No, you don't have a condition that really requires medication; if you just slept more/lost weight/did yoga/were a better person, you wouldn't have to feel like you need to use drugs. We don't care if your doctor says you need this medication — your insurance company says you don't. Oh, you can afford it anyway? At that price? You must be reselling. We need to investigate and put notes on your file.
Communicating via message? God forbid you take even a fraction of a second too long to respond. You must be trying to hide something. You're slacking off your work. You must be cheating on your partner. You must have a problem with the sender and are leaving them out of something. You left them on read; you're being a bitch. You edited a response or took too long to type something — you're actually being mean and manipulative by not just saying what was on your mind first. Company policy is we get to see everything on your devices. You shouldn't have a problem sharing your personal location/passwords/etc. with your partner if you're not up to no good.
Want to simply exist where a stranger might see you? That's suspicious. What are you doing out here? We don't recognize you. You must be stealing. You must be casing the houses or stores in this neighborhood. You must be looking for someone to rob/assault/harass/etc. You must be part of that rabble claiming they're protesting to cover up the nuisances and criminals they are. Why did you hold a door for me — are you trying to get behind me? Why have I seen you more than once while I'm shopping here — are you following me? Why did you smile at me — do you have a problem? Why are you walking down the street? Why are you sitting on a bench? Why are you visiting the library? Why are you eating alone at the cafe? You don't look like you belong here. You look like a creep. You need the police to come handle you. (If they use force, that just shows you were up to something and totally deserve it.)
Want to exist online? We need to know everything about you — your real name, address, email, age — to ensure you're not a criminal. But you're probably also lying. We need to spy on everything you do, too: every site you visit (and how long you spend there), every purchase you make, every message you send, every search you do. We will take everything you say in bad faith, so be careful about what you post. But it's also extremely suspicious if you don't post — who doesn't have an extensive social media presence these days? What are you trying to hide? You need to indicate that you think the right way. You aren't posting about this — you must not care; you must be a bad person. You deleted an old post — you must be trying to hide your awful views. You can't possibly just be removing things from your profile that no longer reflect who you are. You posted something that I don't like — I knew there was something off about you. It's not a leap to think you're also into worse things. You're probably a pervert. You're actually a criminal of the worst sort and this is an early warning sign for those of us who are smart enough to see it. We're only accusing you of these things NOW so you don't have an opportunity to do them.
Didn't you know? You need to be constantly watched and humiliated and inconvenienced and sometimes even attacked because that's the only thing standing in the way of bad things happening. If you find all this demeaning, there's something wrong with you. Only criminals would rather trade this for being less safe. You don't want us to go from thinking you're a criminal to knowing you're a criminal, do you?
...
Like, fuck. Aren't you tired of living like this???
Some of this stuff has been around for a long time, and it obviously isn't applied evenly across all demographics. But a lot of it has also gotten exponentially worse within the past few decades. Please don't ever accept any of this as normal or necessary or good, because it's not. I'm going insane watching people shrugging off the increasing infantilization and dehumanization of everyone just because this is all they can remember.
It doesn't have to be this way. Don't ever take this shit as a given — it wasn't that long ago that some of this would have been unthinkable. And the instant someone starts talking about doing things a certain way/supporting certain things because of "safety" or "security," be very careful about blindly agreeing with them. We lose very real, important things in pursuit of the nebulous concept of "safety."
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itstheghostofmypast · 8 months ago
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Must Be Love
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Corporate Worker San x (F)Reader
Summary: Love, is an emotion so deep that once earned, it could change lives. Unfortunately, neither of the two had ever had the opportunity to feel love. Well, maybe he had, but having his heart thrown back at him, made him realise that the corporate world was far too busy, far too bitter and far too cold for a hardworking boy from Namhae- it was about time he accepted the bitter taste of reality.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Fluff
Warnings: Languages/ Insecurities (majorly of being alone)
Word Count: 21k
Est. Read Time: 1 hr
Rating: nc-17
Networks: @cromernet @k-labels
Banner: @cafekitsune
Master List- Corporate Brew
A/N: Only God and @edenesth know how this was supposed to be a timestamp, that turned into a oneshot that is so long- that I- I swear I don't even know why San has me in a chokehold.
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"All I'm saying is that speed dating does work for some people." The brunette claimed entering the elevator with the taller man who shook his head with a pout, pressing the parking button. Sure, speed dating worked for a few people, but those few people were rarely introverts, moreover, he did not have time for love. Love was a luxury he could not afford, especially after his last encounter with the villain, he believed that distancing himself from it would keep him safe, and keep him from hurting.
"Yeah...just not my thing," he mumbled, stepping out onto the concrete floor, their polished shoes scraping against the cement, echoing in the enormous parking lot. Sighing he looked over the fence, frowning at the jam below, "I hate Mondays", muttering to himself he turned to wave off Yeosang who smiled at him, before ducking down to enter his car, lowering the window once the engine was switched on, "I'm just saying San, you can't let her get to you forever."
"See you tomorrow Yeosang." with one final wave his friend drove off, as the man himself, got into his car, buckled up and decided to speed out, it didn't matter anyway, he'd be stuck in traffic but at least it'll be quick, it was already 9 pm, the sooner he could go home, the sooner he'd be in bed, ready to succumb to the solitude and silence at his apartment. 
Unfortunately, by the time he arrived, it was already 11 pm. Cursing under his breath he walked out of the elevator, so exhausted, so tired, so done with everything. A constant ringing in his ears only added to the discomfort, as he squinted at the hallway lights. Making his way down his corridor he reached his door until pausing, turning his head to find someone sitting at the door next to his, hugging her knees- was she...crying? All too suddenly the ringing disappeared, the lights around him became much bearable, the dull greys around him morphing into something else- San, stop. Clearing his throat, he looked at her, trying to get her attention, which he only got once he 'fake' coughed.
His curious gaze met with glossy doe eyes, and a tear-stained face stared up at him. Unknown to him, she had just come to the realisation that God really did do people favours, and one of those favours was creating a being like the one standing above her, with a gaze so soft she could almost feel it, his features sharp as a feline and not to mention those shoulders, damn what a beauty. She watched him blink at her slowly before turning around and- oh. He went inside.... wow.
With a snort, she shook her head-that was anti-climactic. Of course, why would anyone even want to deal with her, especially someone like him?
San closed the door behind him, slowly walked over to the console table, and stopped to stare at his reflection, God he looked like a mess, no wonder she was staring at him like that. Running his fingers through his hair, he sleeked back his bangs, trying to calm down his nest of hair before fixing his tie and opening the door to find her in the same place, walking over to her as he cleared his throat.
"Excuse me Ma'am-" he began, pausing when she looked up at him with a frown, man, he wasn't good-looking, but he wasn't that ugly either.
"I lost my key." 
"You- what?" quirking a brow he stared at her before looking at the numerous bags and suitcases beside her, how exactly did he not notice these before? 
"I moved in today...lost my key and the landlord is out of town," mumbling she hugged her knees tighter looking away from him, frowning at the tiled floor, waiting for something, a backhanded compliment, an insult, a taunt, something to remind her of her ignorance and lack of competence. 
Sighing he rubbed his face, before staring at the door, looking at the lock pad, moving closer he stood right beside her, glancing down at her, though she was still staring ahead, frowning like a child put in time out shaking his head he began pressing the numbers on the keypad, resetting the door's lock- knowing this was no longer a used apartment, it had a generic code from number one to five, he was confused why the landlord had decided to not tell her this. On the other hand, this was common knowledge, but then again, he didn't know these things when he started, a fresh graduate with the hopes of stepping into the world with a will to change stuff- that is until the corporate world put him back in his place.
The beeping caught her attention, side eying him, most of her vision just comprised of his pant leg, craning her neck upwards, she met with the gaze of an angel, giving her a small smile as the light behind him glowed in all in angelic mercy. Was he...bipolar?
"I've reset it. Please change the passcode once you settle in."
With that he walked away, leaving her sitting there, grateful yet so confused, his calm demeanour just putting her anxiousness at bay. The soft click of his door brought her back to reality, clearing her throat she stood up, dusting her clothes she made her way to his door, clearing her throat, trying to fix her hair before ringing the doorbell.
San was almost done unbuttoning his shirt when the doorbell rang, as he paused, groaning in disdain the man glanced at the clock, it was almost midnight, what on earth did the world want from him now? Messily buttoning it back up he padded to the door barefoot, his tie hanging around his neck, annoyed at the pestering dinging of the bell as he swung the door open, glaring at whoever was rude enough to ruin his few moments of silence and bliss.
"Th-oh- sorry." she stammered, averting her gaze before bowing and thanking him, mumbling her name and scurrying away through her open door, slamming it shut, her things still outside. He stared at her, what a peculiar woman, what was her problem? Glancing down he realised most of his shirt was still unbuttoned- oh…well technically he was wearing a vest- shit did she think he was weird? A pervert? Great going Choi San. Sighing for the nth time of the night he closed the door, finally deciding to go to bed and forget whatever embarrassing things he had done tonight.
Leaning her ear against the door she weighed for it to close, praying to any entity out there that he did not assume she was weird or a perv. It's not like this was the first time she'd seen a man and technically he was still fully clothed so- God, Jongho was right, she's been single for too long. A good ten minutes later she cracked open the door, leaning out to glance at her neighbour's door, apartment number 404, well then, at least he was gone, she could pull in her stuff without any interruptions. 
.
"You traumatised- no, you harassed a woman," Yeosang mumbled, coat in hand as he entered the elevator, San following in behind, San who was also late today, San who had rushed to work today, forgetting both, his laptop at home and his coat.
"I did not." he sighed, staring at his reflection, he hadn't gotten much sleep last night - or any other of the previous nights for that matter. Usually, when he'd lay down, his body would be exhausted, but an hour in all he'd do was toss and turn restlessly, blanketed by something else, something heavy and blue, at this point he had no clue as to what to do. The room would just end up getting stuffy and within a few hours, he'd slip out of bed, have a cup of coffee, shower, change, try to eat something, anything so he could function and leave like he had a whole eight hours of sleep.
"Should've asked her how she lost the key though." the other man hummed, pressing the buttons of their floors, eying his friend who was now leaning his head against the wall, eyes closed with a pout.
"No."
"No?"
"No, she was already upset, who cares how she lost them." he sighed, straightening up once the door opened, "Didn't feel like adding salt to the wound."
"Aww...my stoic Mr.Choi is so considerate." he teased, patting the back of his friend who rolled his shoulders, before walking out, mumbling a, "I'll just take Mingi's jacket- don't bother coming by!' he turned around swiftly to point at Yeosang, who stood there behind the open doors, waving at him, "Whatever you say...." waiting for the doors too almost close for the punchline, "Perv."
.
"Will you be going out for lunch today, Sir?" Mingi asked, fingers frozen above the keyboard, peaking through his glasses as he stared at San who was locking the glass door to his office.
"Yeah...want something?" the man turned to look at his secretary - assistant, mind you- who shook his head, "Enjoy your lunch, Sir." with that he went back to typing up the due report - one that was due a day ago, he was just glad San hadn't realised that yet.
Shaking his head San sighed, "Mingi, my man, you gotta stop calling me Sir." stuffing his hands in his pockets he looked around the almost empty floor, "Also, I've submitted the report." his words caused the taller man to freeze, his curious eyes locking with a tired, blank pair, an apology simmering at the tip of his tongue but the man raised his hand to stop him, "Just...tell me next time." 
"Yes Sir."
"Creme croissant and a latte, right?" he asked as he began to walk away, being nothing more than a hero- no, an angel, for Song Mingi, oh how he wished everyone had a boss like his. Standing up and bowing a good 90 degrees he kept thanking the man until the elevator doors closed.
.
Grimacing at the bitter taste of his coffee he walked down the street, frowning at almost everything. The sun was too bright, the birds were too loud, there was too much traffic and lunch hour was packed. Holding onto the paper bag of Mingi's lunch he bit the end of the straw, staring into the windows of the shops he passed by. Why did these people look so happy? Did they not have work? What did they have that he did not?
Too lost in thought he collided with someone, though little damage was done to him, other than dropping Mingi's lunch, his coffee was fine, and so was his shirt. Sighing in relief he turned to look at the person who had ended up on the floor, about to apologise he paused, "Oh...it's you."
Falling on your butt is one of the worse things known to man or woman in her case, truth be told she hadn't seen the man, especially because of the boxes that she was holding, they were heavy and if Jongho didn't think that rock-paper-scissors was not the best solution for any problem, especially when it meant carrying heavy objects, she wouldn’t be here. She was picking up the cups that fell out of the box, luckily the one with the spoons and forks was taped up, mumbling an apology to the person before spotting the soiled package- shit.
"I'm so sorry-" she was cut off by his statement, staring up at him, oh shit. Clearing her throat she nodded before standing up, patting the dust off her clothes and apologising, "I-I'm sorry I didn't see you there. " He was about to say it's okay please stop apologising but before he could she reached for his feet causing him to bounce back only to realise she was reaching for what remained of Mingi's lunch.
"I- I'm so sorry, I'll get you a new one." she said placing it on the boxes and trying to pick them up, though he reached for them before she could, picking them up, "Please stop apologising. It's alright, you don't have to," he said as he looked at her from over the boxes. Wow, he makes the boxes look small, what else can he pick up?
"No, please you don't have to help me, I can carry them." she said trying to reach for them but he shook his head, nodding in the opposite direction, "Where were headed?"
"LET ME MAKE YOU LUNCH" 
The two stared at each other, her words causing the two to stare at each other before he cleared his throat, averting his gaze and she shook her head trying to explain, "I mean for the one I dropped, I have a cafe- technically it's not open yet but you-you can be the first official nonofficial customer."
"Ah...okay," whispering he turned to look at her again and nodded, following her as she began to speed walk in the direction of his office- oh it was close by? They stopped at a closed shop just a block away, the windows covered with newspapers, including the glass door. Craning his neck back he stared at the name, a giant board of the name - oh it's a cafe? 'Jiyuu'.
Freedom, huh? He followed her inside, only to abruptly stop when she turned around "I can hold it-"
"Just tell me where to keep it,” he asked before walking towards the dusty counter, placing the boxes on it and turning to her but she zoomed into the kitchen mumbling, a 'Please stay here, I'll be right back'. 
He stood there, idle, hands in his pockets, staring around the semi-decorated place, wasn't shabby, and wasn't over the top modern as well. It was close to his work too, maybe he'd try the coffee here. Speaking of coffee, how did a simple cafe owner- one that was still closed- afford an apartment like his? Someone cleared their throat, earning his attention. 
"Here you go," she mumbled, "Sorry again." handing him the paper bag- it was bigger than the one he had for Mingi.
"Thank you." nodding at her he pouted, "I told you, it's okay." with that the two stood there, awkwardly standing, staring at anything but each other, the hustle and bustle of outside muffled through the newspaper-covered glass windows, the golden glow just adding to the calm atmosphere. He hadn't felt like this in a while he had not been able to hear his thoughts in a good while, it bothered him, the slow atmosphere, there was no rush, and even time had a pace of its own. A melancholic serenity, he was slowly beginning to enjoy until his phone rang, causing him to jerk back to reality, only to realise she was busy unboxing, when did she move away? Did she just let him stand there, staring at the wall? 
"I- thanks again." clearing his throat he nodded at her, earning a gentle smile, "Thank you too." with that he quickly made his exit.
That day, Mingi received more than just a croissant and a latte, he got a whole Danish pastry, a cold coffee and more assorted baked items- No, San did not tell him how he got them, he just told him it was his treat. That day, San had finally witnessed something, felt something so similar that he felt goosebumps, felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand, yet, other than his internal conflict, the world around him was at a pace so strange, one that was slowly pulling him in, something he was deathly afraid of, yet, he welcomed it, just a little bit. That day she finally made a friend, other than Jongho, even if it were comprised of him just being nice to her, she'd accept that, everyone was falling in love, and at least she was no longer falling behind.
.
A week, it had just been a week since the two had come to know about their existence and he had realised how even though he'd address her with her first name she'd use Mr.Choi. Perhaps she would do so out of respect, or perhaps she was scared of him. Either way, what he did not expect was for her to knock on his door, drenched to the bone, shivering as she tried to give him that usual smile 'Everything is A-okay!'. He could see right through it, and even though he had decided to not meddle in others' affairs, he still somehow found her sitting on his couch, clutching onto a mug of tea, one of his spare towels wrapped around her shoulders.
That is not what baffled him, what truly amazed him was how this strange woman just barged into his apartment, wet as a cat caught in the rain and had brought up a proposition, much similar to the one Yeosang would bring to the table during the yearly board meetings, making San want to strangle him most of the time.
"So, in reality, you want me to drop you off at your place of work and you'll pay me...with coffee?" He asked, watching her sit on his extremely expensive leather couch, sleek black, matching the monochromatic theme of his living room, and her damp clothes were not doing the leather any favours.
"Yes- I mean, No- I mean a coffee and something to eat, whatever you like! I read that business and corporate people love a good brew and I'll be targeting them too so-" she went on and on, playing with the hem of her damp cardigan, but he raised a hand to stop her, her eyes widening at the gesture, oh god, was he going to throw her out? Jongho did tell her that this was a bad idea.
"Why are your clothes wet?"
"O-oh." her face flushed at the question, her gaze flickering to her lap as she cleared her throat, "It started raining on my way back...and I didn't have an umbrella."
"But the forecast.... mentioned it." he sighed, rubbing his face with his hands before stopping to glare at her, "Did you not take one or did you forget it at the cafe?" his words were cold, but held some form of warmth to them, though his hard glare softened at her meek response.
"I left it at work, Mr.Choi."
"Go home." was all he said as he stood up and walked over to the main door, turning to catch her staring at him with wide glossy eyes, of course, she wouldn't get the hint, "We leave at sharp 6 am”.
.
"So... this is just what neighbours do?" Yeosang glanced up from the documents, of course San had blocked the funds for the marketing department, this man's sulking was affecting his work ethic too- by work ethic, he meant how he was holding Yeosang's big marketing plans.
"Hmm? Oh yeah...I guess, why?" he asked still reading through the other proposals, not really thinking about it or her. Honestly, he had assumed she would've tapped out within a week, though this past month he was impressed by her persistence. Some days he'd just step foot outside to find her standing in front of her own door, holding onto her handbag, only to smile at him. How on earth was she able to pull off the heart-stopping smile early in the morning? He still didn't know how, he'd just nod silently, sometimes mumbling a good morning, but his lips wouldn't quirk up the slightest.
She'd followed him silently, usually not speaking unless spoken to, but he could sense that she had many stories to tell, but perhaps his heart was already too full, sinking into this blue and her stories and words would just ruin any chances he'd have to stay afloat. Hence, they'd only exchange pleasantries when he'd see fit, but he'd thank her, every time he'd drop her and she'd ask him to stay for a minute, only to run inside with her things and come back running with a coffee and a paper bag. Each day it would comprise of something new, and she'd just say it's her trying new recipes, though she never made the coffee, it was made by him, someone named Jongho, he didn't know much about Jongho, only that he played a vital role in her life- so she had someone too, even if potential. And for once he was glad to have kept his walls up high as he had, though this silent pitter patter of his heart, from every time she'd smile at him annoyed him, every time she whispered before closing the door, " Have a good day, Mr.Choi", it just made the pound of flesh in him shiver with an unwanted excitement.
"San?"
"Huh?"
Clicking his tongue, Yeosang leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms as he scanned the man across the table. His shirts were pressed to the crisp, his usual four-in-hand tie knot, now a full-blown Windsor knot, he'd brought back the waistcoat as well, a choice that was long discarded and his hair, gelled back to perfection—definitely just neighbours. 
"What~" he whined, slumping against the chair, almost like a child throwing a fit, a side only Yeosang would see, usually he'd mock him, but he knew San got like this when he was bound by one of his man internally conflicts, which is why he chose to keep the observation to himself and nod at the clock, "Your neighbour must be waiting, it’s almost time."
"What- oh yeah." nodding he quickly grabbed his things, slinging his bag over his shoulder, almost out the door before he stopped and turned around, "Yeo?"
"Hmmm?"
"Re-evaluate and send in the budget again."
"F*ck you, Choi."
.
"So..." she asked, looking around the interior of his car, "Nice car." Must've cost a lot is what she wanted to say next, but knowing him, he would've asked her to get out at that very moment- incorrect, Choi San couldn't even glare at her properly, let alone tell her to walk home.
"Thank you..." he mumbled, driving onto the main road, not really knowing how to continue the conversation, Yeosang would've made fun of him, telling him he couldn't even do 'small talk', but it's not like he had much in common with her, other than working near each other and living in the same building, on the same floor.
"I uh...thank you for dropping me home." she tried to push onto the subject, maybe he'd talk to her if she pestered him, that's how she had gotten Jongho to become her friend- not the best tactic, but it had worked once, why wouldn't it again?
"No problem." his responses were short, again, not out of malice, he just didn't know what to say to her, with his sister, it usually comprised of him being a baby to her or her bossing him around but that was different, they were siblings, they could argue about stupid things and get over it, but with her- she was...different, she was soft, she was sensitive and delicate, like a butterfly on a flower. Though she'd be one of those he'd avoid, not wanting to fall into its beauty and grace, too distracted to take note of the world around him. No longer was he willing to fall, or at least imagine to do so.
Parking the car he cleared his throat, waiting for her to move, but he was greeted by silence. What the hell- he turned to find her asleep, hugging her purse close, leaning against the door. 
If this was extremely dangerous and careless of her, he might have found it cute- why on earth- HOW COULD SHE JUST FALL ASLEEP LIKE THIS? What does he do? Does he tap her shoulder? Shake her? Wouldn't that be touching her without consent? Should he call her by her name? Yes, he should, and with that intention he had turned to her once more, only to notice the small frown etched on her features, she looked.... tired.
Jerking awake she sat up properly, blowing the hair out of her face, blinking around, where- was she in the car? Whipping her head to look at the driver's seat she found him sitting there, tying away on his phone, his hair a bit dishevelled but everything else was pristine about him, as it was in the morning. His face was illuminated by the blue light, only accentuating his sharp features, to this day she wondered how someone like him would even bother talking to her.
"Good morning" he turned to look at her, catching her mid-stare, as she choked on her words, about to blurt out an apology but he cut her off, "Don't apologise, it’s something I did by choice, anyway, I got through with most of my emails for the day now so that's good. " He locked his phone before finally switching off the car- he was wasting gas for her? "Did you rest well?" 
She could only nod at his question, as he got out and closed the door, she clumsily followed after clutching onto her things as he made his way to the elevator, locking the car, the beep echoing across the parking lot.
He held the doors open for her, waiting for her to run in as she placed her handbag down, turning to him with a pout, only to be met by a frown- was he angry? Of course, he was, but he did say he stated by choice so why did he-
"Do you realise how dangerous that was? Falling asleep in someone else's car?" his words were direct, cold to the brim, "It's extremely foolish. Just because we know each other doesn't mean you can do that! We're just neighbours, nothing more and even if we are carpooling this isn't safe. Would you do the same in an Uber or a bus? Do you realise this is just carelessness? It's just not how you live in the city or elsewhere for that matter-" he spat, turning to meet her with an intense glare, only to lock eyes with a misty pair, pausing when she dipped her head, "I'm sorry, I know. " 
"I-I'll be careful next time. Mr.Choi." whispered, her fingers gripping the leather of her bag, he was right, they were just neighbours, nothing more, nothing less, more importantly, this formal arrangement of carpooling was only temporary, maybe she should just take the bus from now on. Jongho was wrong, she wasn't mature enough for this, and she couldn't do this on her own, her fiancé was right, she was childish and clumsy, a little girl living in a fool's paradise at best, too used to being a daddy's little princess. 
San watched her walk out of the elevator, though he was too petrified to say anything, his own reaction had confused him. Why was he so upset? He was the one who let her sleep? It wasn't like him to raise his voice like this, especially at someone he would compare to a butterfly. What was wrong with him? He was never this bitter. Just like that, he watched her walk into her apartment, the soft click signalling her to lock it. No, he did not receive the usual "Goodnight Mr.Choi."
But then again, did he deserve it? With a heavy sigh, he closed the door, staring at his empty apartment, feeling...guilty? Well, he did just...it wasn't wrong but...groaning in defeat he turned around and walked out of his apartment slamming the door shut behind him.
.
 Pushing up her glasses she frowned at the screen, what kind of schedule was this, all the buses left before sunrise, way before San would even leave, and they’d leave later as well. In addition to those issues, the bus wouldn’t drop or pick her up near the café, the bus stops were around five blocks away from the shop. Groaning she slammed the lid shut, what if she just walked every morning? Maybe she shouldn’t have moved here, leaving her comfort zone, forcing Jongho along with her- he was a fool, he’d always had too much faith in her and that had always been the problem. At this point, she had once again wasted her parents’ money and potentially risked Jongho’s life savings too.
With a heavy sigh, she picked up the laptop and placed it on her desk before coming back to bed, laying back down as she stared up at the ceiling, letting her sullen thoughts lull her to sleep. Only to sit awake when the doorbell rang, looking around her room before it rang again, groaning she laid back down and covered her ears, waiting for it to stop. And it did, much to her pleasure, only the next thing to ring was her phone, she slammed her hand around for it and picked it up without checking the ID, “Jongho I swear if you’re calling me because you have a new brew idea, I’ll stab you with a spork.”
For a second she was met with silence, causing her to pull back and squint at the caller ID, before gasping and pressing it against her ear, “Mr.Choi I’m so so-“
“Sorry? Mhmmm…I know, so am I, please open the door so I can do so formally.”
That night, was the first time she had received a formal apology from a corporate worker, one with a proper 90-degree bow, followed by a soft apology. She opened the door to find him standing there tall before doing so, standing back up and showing her a bag, “I hope you like Chinese takeout.”
“I do.” With that she moved to the side, thanking God that she had cleaned her apartment the day before, asking him to make himself comfortable as she set the table. That night Choi San finally decided to learn a bit about her, not too much, he didn’t want to get involved in anything other than carpooling, this dinner was just a mere apology for his sudden outburst anyway. He looked around the lounge, the comfortable sofa was different from his, well most of this place was, it had colour, little trinkets that represented who she was, by the window were some succulents, but there was no television to be found, weird.
Once the table was set the two began to eat quietly, that is until she began, “You didn’t have to get dinner Mr Choi, and it's too much-
“I did.” He cut her off, clearing his throat to continue, “I…my outburst was uncalled for, I know it may seem confusing, but I wasn’t upset that you fell asleep, I was …concerned for your safety, I know you just moved here…but I…” he trailed off, especially at the way she was looking at him, like a kid staring at superman, he felt small under her intense stare, no, he wasn’t who she thought he was, he was no saint, he was no saviour, he was no one special. Shaking off the feeling, he mumbled, trying to change the topic, “Why did you move here anyway?” This was a bad move, he had asked something personal, he should’ve just asked her how he liked it here or how was work going, this question just meant that the answer would get him inside for her life, insight, he perhaps could function without.
Unfortunately, after a few stories in he was hooked, the finance director was up till midnight, not because of his work, no, because one story led to another and he listened intently, letting her do all the talking, perhaps because he wanted her to feel as if she was heard, or perhaps her story sparked some form of joy.
"Lee Soohyuk?" he choked on his lettuce wrap, thanking her when she handed him a can of soda. Gulping it down before clearing his throat as he looked at her, watching her clean her side of the table with a tissue, she was done eating. Or was she not eating in front of him?
"The...the famous corporate lawyer? Damn, I've seen him...once? Twice I think." he blinked at her, noting how she had gone quiet before he gave her a small smile, "He's not that smart you know...he was also wrong." 
"What?" she paused her cleaning session to look at him, "He wasn't though, he was right Mr.Choi, I'll always be my parent's little princess, I can't even function alone, I dragged Jongho in this and lord forgive how his dad invested in med school for him and he ended up becoming a barista because of me- I couldn’t even afford a place of my own- I'm still living in an apartment owned by my parents!" slamming her hands on the table she glared at the food, "He was right, I was useless and immature then, I'm equally useless now, other than Jongho now I depend on you - which I won't I promise I'm looking for a solution but the schedule and drop points are so chaotic and-" her words caught up in her throat, being pushed down by a sob as she slumped back in her chair, pressing her palms over her eyes, no crying, crying is for the weak, for those who are spoiled, for those who give up. Too busy trying to think of what breathing exercises Jongho had taught her, she didn't know when he had come to her, until he placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze causing him to peak up at him.
"Well, I don't know what you were like before...but...I won't say you're useless...Mingi was born here but he still rides his cycle here, and lives with a flatmate," pulling his hand away leaning against the table, stuffing his hands in his pockets- too much skinship is bad- "I... have you ever like managed your resources? Like do you have a plan? An agenda or something?" 
Shaking her head she wiped her eyes, sniffing like a little girl who got scolded, "I- I thought of buying this apartment from them....and then...then...I don’t know."
Nodding San smiled at her, "So you do have a plan. You just need some help figuring it out." reaching over for a tissue he plucked some out of the box before handing them to her, "Let's get your priorities organised first. Make a payment plan or something like that, your business started off well, which means you know how to work that out, you just need help in the...other stuff. Take a leap of faith."
"What if I... fall?"
'Then I'll catch you'. 
This is what he had wanted to say that night but chose to smile at her, telling her people learn from their mistakes, no matter how small. Fortunately, she had made a friend that day, one who would guide her through, one who also told her to forget about the bus schedule and that they'd still carpool. Unfortunately for him, he might have stepped into a boundary he was desperately trying to avoid. Either way, Friday night dinners slowly became a tradition, a place of dining alternating, a Friday at his and a Friday at hers- something that when he told Yeosang, all the prince-ly man did was stare at him before leaving the office without another word, ignoring San yelling at him,
"WE'RE ONLY NEIHBOURS! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?? YAH KANG YEOSANG!"
.
Cursing to himself he ran down the stairs, Yeosang's laugh echoing around the staircase, "It's not like you're late for a date!" he yelled only for San to turn and glare at him, stopping dead in his tracks, "I'm late to pick her up from work."
"Ah yes, because her being there makes traffic jams a bit more bearable!" he yelled from the end of the staircase laughing when San flipped him off while driving by.
She stood there, leaning against the ceramic pot, the guard didn't let her in, saying she had to mention who she was here to see and even though she had said Mr.Choi, she really didn't know which department he worked in, which is why she was asked to wait outside.
So, here she was, standing in the middle of the rain with her umbrella, staring at the cars zooming past her, the security guard inside the glass cabin giving her an apologetic smile once in a while.
Sighing she looked at her shoes, the pavement not doing much to stop the water from sliding onto the road. The pavement was getting busier too, most people just got free and as much as she loved the city, she wondered, at any given moment alone if this was a risk worth taking. A slight shove from a passerby had her stumble a few steps forward, stopping right at the edge of the pavement, not even a sorry was thrown in her direction.
She turned to glare at the woman running away in heels before a honk caught her attention, turning to spot the familiar car as it slowed down, the door opening for her as the driver moved back onto his seat, quickly she got in, making sure to close her umbrella and shove a plastic bag around it ungracefully, turning to smile at the driver, "hi-"
"Why are you here?" he spat, frowning at her before flicking on his blinker, "It's raining and I said I'll pick you up no? I didn't say you'd pick me up from work."
Sighing she shook her head, "Sorry Mr.Choi." She said that a lot, more often than either would like, it would make his heart clench every time and Yeosang would call him a bastard every time he'd mention this to him in his daily narratives.
"I- what I mean is...I was a bit late so I texted you, you didn't have to come all the way here and stand in the rain out on the street." his words softer than before, as he stopped at a traffic light, glancing at her from the rear-view mirror, watching her pout.
"I- my phone died...so I didn't know and, I was waiting but then when you didn't come...I was worried...about you so I came here and- "She was worried about him, something within him pulled at his heart, she was waiting for him? But before the feeling could settle in, her usual nonstop chatter began, shaking him out of his fever dream, "What's your department by the way, they wouldn't let me in! Said there were so many Chois! Did you know that!?? I mean Jongho is a Choi too, and then there Choi Minho- he's cute, I like him, I like Shinee...do you?"
"I...." unsure of which question to answer first he frowned before he began to drive shaking his head at her, "I’m the director of the finance department." he sighed earning a chuckle, side-eying her only for her to stop and clear her throat. He nodded at her, ignoring her first half of the statement, though the latter portion had the tips of his turning red.
"Sorry, that would just explain your expensive taste, Mr.Choi...would explain the Windsor knot too." 
.
She stood in front of his door, checking the time once more, it was almost seven and his car was still in the parking lot. Yes, she had run down the flight of stairs to check if he was still there. She had called him too but his phone was switched off so she did the next best thing, called Jongho.
"JONGHO-"
"It's seven- no, wait- listen your monstrosity it’s not even seven yet, what do you WANT." He yelled, causing her to pull the phone away from her ear, whining an apology.
"Mr.Choi won’t answer my calls or open the door what do I do??"
"My poor baby." he cooed at her in a taunting manner, "maybe you finally did to him what the pressure his job couldn’t."
"What? What do you mean?" she asked before deciding to take matters into her own hands.
"Corporate pressure was nothing compared to you, I'm sure he's at peace now-"
"OH, SCREW YOU, I'M IN." with that, she hung up, entered his apartment and marched towards his room- the only place in his apartment she hadn't seen. Knocking on his bedroom door she slowly peeked in, only to be met by a room filled with clothes lying around, the curtains drawn close and the heater on full blast. Stepping in, careful not to step on the clothes she walked over to a heap of blankets on the bed, resting her hand on it as she gently shook it, "Mr.Choi." 
The lack of movement just had her worrying even more, as she leaned closer pressing her ear against the cotton, hearing his laboured breathing, shaking her head she announced, "Mr.Choi, I'm gonna pull these off!" with that she ripped off the two- no three quilts he was cocooned in earning a gasp as he quickly sat up, hugging himself shivering in cold sweat.
He stared at her with surprised eyes, "W-what are you- shit, what time is it?"
"Forget what about the time, you're burning up." pressing her palm over her sweaty, warm forehead she frowned, taking in his flushed face, pushing his hair back so she could take a better look at him, then glanced down at his ...sweaters. 
"How many layers...."
"I was cold." he whined, closing his eyes when she carded her fingers through his hair, trying to fix his hair, basically pushing it out of his face, "Of course you are...I'm going to get you something to drink...probably do something else about the fever. You take off your ...layers until then, okay?" she asked tugging at his sweater, earning yet another uncharacteristic whine - or maybe this is who he really was, she was just used to him acting all strong and mighty.
"Okay," he mumbled before reaching for the blanket again only to slap his hand away. Pulling his hand away with a gasp he gave her an offended, traumatised look.
"No." was all she said before going over to turn off the heater and opening the window to let out the stuffiness, "I'll be back in ten minutes and I better see those off you, understood?"
Wow, since when did she become all assertive? He thought to himself but only nodded at her instructions, it had been a while since someone had actually put in the effort to take care of him. This is what a good neighbour would do right? He'd take care of her too, right? He had already helped her make a payment plan that she was using to buy off the apartment her parents owned, he had met Jongho too, a nice but horrible fellow, but one that could push her and keep her on track, much like San he believed in her, claiming that
'If they didn't get her engaged with a man six years older than her, she would've had time to grow. Soohyuk wasn't bad but he was 26 and she was 20, he had a set plan, and she didn't even know what she wanted to major in- I don't blame either of them, marriage isn't a business transaction.
He watched her leave the room, glancing at the handbag on his side table, he'd seen her grow though, a few more months and the apartment would be hers, plus the cafe was getting good traffic so there was no real issue there. Though Jongho did threaten him, reminding him of how influential she was even if she wasn't on her parent's payroll anymore, any funny business would mean his career was over.
Slowly he began to take off the layers just doing what she had asked then falling face forward on the pillow, listening to the clinking of the pots and pans.
She arrived back to him with a tray in hand, for a busy man she always marvelled over how clean his kitchen was, but then again he did remind her now and then how cleaning was a good way to destress. Starting at the sweaters on the floor, the ones he had discarded because of her instructions- guessed the cleaning was only limited to the kitchen.
Shaking her head as she made her way through the maze of blankets and clothes, she placed the tray on his side table, slowly pushing her bag off the table. Sliced fruit and lots of water, followed by some Advil. He wasn't shivering anymore, so that was good, "Mr.Choi!" Turning to him she smiled, "Have some break...fast-" Good lord that some back, like that, was...wow.  
"What?" pushing up on his hands he turned his head to look at her only for her to cover her face, with her hands squeaking, "WHY DID YOU TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES?"
Scoffing he sat up, his headache just adding to his bratty attitude, "Because you yelled at me too and I'm still wearing my pants." Why was she being like this, she was so mean, she even left the window open, he was so cold, his neck and shoulders hurt and it was all because of that damn window, "My shoulders are killing me because of the window you left open too!"
"I-" Lowering her hands she looked at him, sitting on his knees, staring at her with a pout, what a man-child.
"First of all, sit properly, and eat, have the medicine it'll help with the pain and" Bending down she picked up a discarded shirt, handed it to him, "Window stays open or you take a cold shower."
That was all it took for the big boy to sit there, eating his sliced apples, which were never-ending, until he realised, she was slicing up even more, and an Advil later he began to come back to his senses, clearing his throat as he tried to roll his shoulders to ease the discomfort, which ended up being futile.
"I'm sorry for not informing you, I think I switched off my phone after sending in my sick leave." sighing he leaned back against the pillows, shaking his head when she was about to cut another apple, "Please. I'm full."
With a pout, followed by a suspicious glance she nodded, placing the fruit back down and taking his empty plate off his lap. Leaning closer she pressed her hand on his forehead, he was still warm but it was better than before mumbling, "It's alright, Jongho can handle stuff better than me anyway."
Letting out a soft chuckle, his fingers gripped her wrists gently, pulling her hand away from his skin, "That's funny, I remember him telling me how he desperately needs you to deal with all the customers and manage stuff," he whispered, only then realising how close the two were to each other, with her leaning on the bed, her knee pressing onto the mattress next to his leg, "I can see that you really can." 
"I..." averting her gaze she mumbled a thank you before asking, "How's the pain?" slowly pulling away as she sat back down, but his fingers still held onto her, though he didn't notice, he was holding onto her, as if she was grounding him to reality, or some form of happiness that he did not want to let go, at least not now. She however noticed this new profound clinginess and she'd be lying if she were to say she didn't like it, this feeling of being wanted, of being important and valued.
"Hurts." pouting he leaned back against the pillow, closing his eyes like that would turn off the headache, his thumb mindlessly caressing her skin, "Shouldn't have picked up those stupid weights...Jongho did this on purpose."
"JONGHO?"
His grip tightened when he winced at her tone, shooting her glare for which she quickly apologised, before pestering him, glad she was wearing pants as she pulled her hand away and moved closer to him, standing on her knees on the bed beside him, gripping his shoulders, "Mr.Choi, please tell me. What has he told you?"
"N-nothing." he cleared his throat, trying to scoot away but her grip on his shoulders tightened, fingers digging into the muscle, causing him to let out an involuntary moan before she completely pulled away, "I- I’m sorry did that hurt."
Groaning he hunched over, shaking his head, "No, no, it felt good...sorry." Rubbing his neck, he looked at her, taking in her flushed features before sighing, "I uh...Jongho and I go to the gym together...he asked because he wanted to go too, I already go there with a friend from work...don't worry your secrets are safe with him."
Nodding at his statement she stood up and moved pointing at the chair she was sitting on, "Sit." 
Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her, narrowing his eyes, glaring at her, almost playfully. Taking a few moments for her to get all nervous causing her to clear her throat, "I- I mean I can massage your shoulders, I- Jongho uses this oil, uses me like a free massage person too for his neck and-"
Raising his hand, he stopped her, slowly getting off the bed with a groaning sitting down as instructed before glancing at her, "Just don't strangle me, okay? He did mention how you have the death grip of a man."
If she weren't too distracted by the sight of him following her orders, she would've jumped down the window. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the oil out of her bag, yes, she carried that around in case Jongho pulled something like the old man he was.
Once she began working on his neck, fingers pressing into the knots he bit his lip, trying to hold in the sounds that were about to burst through, if this was the privilege Jongho got for being her best friend, he'd sign up too.
For about ten minutes she went on with her usual routine, only to stop when his head fell back against her belly, going limp her hold- Oh. He had fallen asleep. She stood there, holding onto his slouching form, taking in his relaxed features. She hadn't seen him this relaxed before, he almost looked...too cute. Speaking of cute, she had learned many things about him today, from how he was actually just as whiny as he pretended not to be, to how he ate almost 5 apples before stopping, she did notice how his fridge was mostly empty other than having eggs, and leftover take out. Maybe they should have more dinners together, maybe she could cook actual homemade food for him.
Slowly helping him up, he drowsily mumbled something before falling onto the bed, as she tucked him in. Glancing at the time she sighed, she'd spent most of the day here, giving him one more look she reached for his hair, brushing it out of his eyes, "Rest well Mr.Choi."
The next morning San woke up better than ever, he knew the fatigue was getting to him but he didn't stop, he probably had forgotten how to stop. That would explain why he fell sick, but who knew he lived right next door to an angel? What surprised him more was how his entire room was clean, all his clothes were neatly folded and stacked in one place, blankets folded at the edge of his bed and the water bottles no longer littered around. She really didn't have to do so much. 
Picking up his phone he checked his messages, opening hers first before Yeosang's or Mingi's
'Hope you're better now Mr Choi. Advil is on the console and I restocked your apples. Don't worry, I went to work myself today, like a big girl. You get some rest.'
Smiling at her message he leaned against the pillow, yeah, this is exactly what neighbours do.
.
"A car?"
"Yes, a car." he sighed, turning the laptop to her, "You can get one on loan, I can fix you up with a good payment plan." he smiled at her, only to frown at the way she was frowning at her lap, "What's...wrong?"
"I- No I- thank you, it really does mean a lot." she cleared her throat, trying to control her expression, he was tired of her, he had to be, "I just...are you- I mean if you feel our routine is taxing then-"
Shaking his head he closed the laptop, turning fully to face her own couch, she was sitting on his very expensive couch, crushing the very expensive cushion in her lap, but it was okay, because it was her, and this time, the after work hours, a few hours before would fall asleep had become their time, where she would go on and on about stuff, only for him to add in a few bits- not because he wasn't interested but because he wanted her to speak, he wanted her to be heard, that and he was still too afraid that if she were to find out he was but from a simple background, from a small town like Namhae, she might never come back here. He wanted to watch her grow, he wanted to watch her business grow and bloom into what she had dreamt for it to be, he wanted to help her and this was a way of helping her.
"It's not...taxing. But...you need to" Pausing to take a moment to think, he noticed how her nails were digging into the leather, shaking that thought away he sighed, "You need to be independent, I'm not saying we change our routine, but you should lax yours, you don't have to leave at 6 am every morning and you don't need to come back home at around 8 or 9. Like you couldn't go when I was sick and then took the bus." he paused, taking in her appearance, only to find her pouting at the TV - yes, he had her buy a TV too because he refused to believe watching stuff on your laptop was better than the TV, though just like every other day she'd come over and watch his TV instead saying it's boring to watch TV alone. Reaching for the remote he paused the movie, to get her to only focus on him, having her look at him, "Like I was saying, a car can help you fix that and what if you need to collect your packaging or go buy fresh produce from the farmer's market? You can't always take a cab, it's not safe- you're earning well enough, I'm not saying buy one because of me, I'm saying buy one because it's your need, you shouldn't depend on anyone, not even me."
Clearing his throat, he met her soft, warm eyes, watching her stare at him intently, before blinking slowly at looking at the laptop, her grip on the cushion loosened,
"I like...the red one."
.
"A car? I- is this 4-year plan? SAN NO." Yeosang stared at the spreadsheet before turning to San who was calmly sipping on his warm cup of coffee, the logo bright enough for Yeosang to roll his eyes, "Listen, lover boy, I get your head over heels for her, but this is a stupid idea, four years with the same car, four years and she's still paying it off- what if she wants to change the car??"
"Yeosang, she's not big on change, and four years max, the payment plan is flexible in terms of quotas she can pay, knowing Jongho he’ll make her pay it all off within two years maximum." he said as he placed his cup down, leaning against his swivel chair, earning another groan from the man across the table, "Man, just buy her a car then."
"No."
"WHY NOT"
"Because she has to learn."
"And you need to grow a pair, big enough to tell her you like her."
"I don't like her." he sighed rolling closer to his desk to turn on his laptop, eying Yeosang who looked at the papers once more, "No, you do not like her...you convinced her to buy a car, made an entire payment plan for her and told her the initial deposit fee was waved off even though YOU paid it- you don't like her my friend," standing up the marketing director walked to the door of the office, turning to glance at his friend with one final smirk before leaving, "You're in love with her."
.
"Jongho, can you get me more napkins?" she called out to the man who was busy singing in the kitchen, at this point she could just ask him to get himself recorded, she was sure Hongjoong wouldn’t say no to either of them. Rush hour was about to start and for that, she needed to prepare, even if the business was booming, they were still short-staffed, and Jongho’s lack of people skills was dragging the interview session longer than she had anticipated. Though she was partially to blame, she was often too preoccupied with work and then well… a certain suited man, from the car ride home to the apartment, to dinner. They had begun to have dinner together more frequently, she often cooked as well, the first time she took a homecooked dish to his place he almost cried at dinner, excusing himself to go to the kitchen for more ‘napkins’, though from the faint sniffing from the kitchen and how long he took there had her believing her suspicions were right, once he looked at her with puffy eyes. Though she never said anything, smiling at him like she always did, for once feeling as if she wasn’t falling behind, cupid could walk right by her and she wouldn’t mind, her heart was already on a platter for someone else, she was just waiting for him to realise this little fact. So, she too, was too busy to even go through the files, but one of these days she’ll definitely get back to it.
The little chime of the bell had her look up from the counter, smiling at the customer only to almost drop to her knees at the man who had walked in- no, he was a fairy- could men be fairies? An angel? No, what on earth was this creature, his face holding the same innocence of an angel, but when he spoke, it was as if she heard the grumble of a dragon- damn. Shaking away her thoughts she smiled at him, greeting him as he stepped closer, oh how she loved men in suits- or rather just one man, with the cute Windsor knot, she noticed how he’d changed it from his usual ones.
“I’ll have whatever you like.” He smiled at her, before looking around, “This place new?”
“Yes, Sir, it is, may I ask if you have any allergies?” she asked before punching in a combo number, to which he shook his head.
“Cash or card?”
“What does Mr.Choi use?”
“What?” she froze, looking up from the monitor to meet his smirk, well, that was new, “I’m sorry, what was that sir?”
“I said card.”
With that she quickly swiped his card, asking him to wait for a while until she came to him with his order. Yeosang wanted to tell her who he was, but the way she stared up at him like a school girl caught slipping a note in her crush’s locker forced him to stop himself, she looked almost too innocent to bully like that- perhaps he should leave the teasing for San instead.
.
You should've gotten the latest model." the man stormed into his friend's room, earning a look of surprise, leaning right to spot his secretary raise his hands in defence, Mingi was always so useless at times like this.
"Dude, in a meeting." he sighed gesturing at the muted call, only for Yeosang to snort, roll his eyes and sit down cross-legged across the man, sipping on a cup of coffee, "I cannot believe you let someone like that wait in the rain for you," he mumbled as soon as San joined the call once more, back to business.
"What-" he looked up from the screen to glare at the brunette pausing at the cup, oh, "Oh you went-
"Of course, I WENT- I had to check her out okay and I- you really are a d*ck, she isn't slow-witted at all, she's just cute. That's how girls are, not that you'd know you simpleton."
"San your mic isn't muted" They heard a chuckle only for him to panic and Yeosang to choke on his coffee, both men apologising to their boss who just laughed it off- luckily the meeting was being held during the break, which meant this conversation could happen since they were off the clock for a while.
.
Much like any other day off, San had decided to do his basic house chores, and since his neighbour now had her own car, he didn’t need to worry about that today which was good, because he really did need to clean up. With the trash bag in hand, he walked out of his apartment, only to stop and stare at the figure hunched over by the elevator, what the- oh wait what?
 Jogging over to her he tapped her shoulder, “Are you okay?” placing the back down he crouched down to get a better look at her face, only to frown at her pained expression, “What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing, just came back from the doc’s.” she sighed before slowly straightening back up, giving him a faulty smile, “All’s good Mr.Choi….cleaning day today?” she mumbled, changing the topic as she made her way to her apartment, not really giving him any time to answer.
She was almost in bed when she heard the front door beep open, man, she shouldn't have shared the passcode. Nonetheless, she walked back out to find him standing there in her hallway, frowning at her before marching towards her, "What happened? Why were you at the doctor's?" 
"I'm fine, just a bit sick I-" pausing her eyes clenched shut, whimpering as she held onto her stomach, trying to breathe out the pain. 
"That's it, we're going to get you checked again." he declared, grabbing her wrist before she snatched it away, "NO! Leave me alone." He blinked at her, taking in the sudden outburst, somewhat offended, did he overstep a boundary? Scanning her pale face he noticed the way her lower lip trembled, was she...going to cry?
"Please..."
That was all it took for Choi San to leave, not forcing her for anything. If she wanted to be alone, fine, she'd be alone, but she didn't need to yell at him like that, and then cry, that just confused him. Maybe she was offended that he came in even though she clearly tried to avoid him, but...they'd usually just walk into each other's apartments like that, that wasn't new. His phone ringing was what had him stop the brooding session, picking up the call,
"Hey."
"You need to help your stupid neighbour."
"I...well she told me she wanted to be alone Jongho, I think she's sick but won't go to the doctor," San mumbled, a bit too desperately. 
"That..." he could practically see Jongho roll his eyes at him, "Because it's that time of the month."
"What time of the month?"
"Choi San, do you have a sister?"
"Yeah, why?"
".... she on her period man- look, I called you because we cancelled all the interviews for a new hire today but this one moron won't listen and I know he's going to go to her place so you gotta tell her."
"WAIT WHAT- she was in so much pain though." no wonder she wanted him to leave, no wonder she yelled at him and then began crying.
"Mhmmm...kay bye".
"JONGHO WAIT-" he looked at the phone and sighed, this man just wanted him to lose his mind, nothing else. He'd do this to him often, even at the gym. Like when he'd be lifting weights, that one time when San accidentally dropped a dumbell on his foot when Jongho casually told him, "Did you know she's in guys with nice butts, and apparently when I stare at a lady with a nice butt for a while, she calls me a pervert." Or the time he almost lost his footing on the treadmill while running, Jongho who was casually standing next to him, staring at his reflection through the mirror, "Glad she hasn't seen your arms, she has a thing for being put in a WWE style headlock." yet, here he was telling her that her secrets were safe with Jongho.
.
She felt someone tap her shoulder, her soul almost left her body, her scream muffled by his palm as he held her down, "It's me, it's me..." he whispered, pulling away slowly as she sat up, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it, repeatedly, "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!"
Clicking his tongue, he snatched it out of her hand and glared at her, though he wasn't angry, his annoyed expression just confused her even more when he pointed at a brown paper bag he had placed beside her. His face flushed as he averted his gaze, clearing his throat, "Jongho said...someone's coming for an interview. This has...stuff for you...I don't know what you particularly use, so I got...most of it."
"What do you mean, I cancelled the interviews and what did you bring for me-"
The doorbell cut her off, her eyes widening in disbelief, no, did Jongho really give her address? She was fighting with the blanket, trying to get it off her when he stopped her, gently pushing her back to lay down, "It's fine...I'll interview him."
He was about to leave but she gripped his wrist, "No, Mr.Choi it's fine, you've done more than enough-"
"You took care of me last time." he smiled at her before taking something out of the paper, "Now let me take care of you." placed the item in her lap he rolled his eyes when the bell rang again, leaving the room. 
What in the name of everything did Jongho tell him? She looked at the chocolate bar, it was her favourite, and she had only mentioned it once, oh my god, did he know she was on her period? Snatching the bag from the edge of the bed she turned it over, its contents falling all over the place. Good grief.... this man...he had gotten her every product he could find. Napkins, tampons, he even bought her heating pads, and other pain medicine, by the time she was done counting the things he had gotten her she was already crying, ugly sobbing at best.
San went to the door, opening it to be greeted by a man with sharp eyes. Technically, his overall appearance was sharp, from his features to his suit- was he really wearing a suit? The only thing about him that seemed remotely soft was his hair, though he looked like a fresh graduate so why apply to a cafe, that too one that was a new seed in the market?
"Good afternoon. Is Ms.L/N here? My name is Jung Wooyoung, I had an interview appointment with her-"
"At the cafe but they were cancelled." San cut him off, leaning against the door as he tried to stare down the shorter man.
Wooyoung stared at the man in sleeveless sweatpants, who was he? Husband? Boyfriend? Some annoying friend? He could pick a fight with him, but then he needed this job, really did.
Clearing his throat, he nodded, before bowing, "I apologise for the intrusion but I thought my eagerness may have a positive impact." 
San stared at him, the perfect 90°, he'd seen that before, many times, he'd been there before too. He knew the feeling, the anxiety and dread that accompanied it, the desperation to finally achieve something. Finally, put the years and money spent on education to use.
"It's...fine, come in."
That's how Wooyoung found himself sitting on a brightly coloured couch, looking around, though he saw no signs of masculinity anywhere, so her boyfriend didn't live with her. He knew his way around the place though. Who was going to interview him though?
San walked out of the kitchen with a tray of tea, placing it on the coffee table as Wooyoung thanked him, getting up to take his mug. No, everything was too feminine so does this mean- what if this dude was a serial killer? Oh my god!?! Did he KILL HER AND IS NOW GOING TO KILL HIM? IS THIS COFFEE POISONED?? Slowly bringing the mug to his nose, sniffing it.
San raised a brow at him, what on earth was this psycho doing? He was about to ask when they heard something crash, instantly getting up he turned to leave, pausing for a moment to loom at Wooyoung, "I'll be right back, please stay here."
Oh my gosh, he was a killer! Wait, she was still alive! He could help her? What should he do? Think Wooyoung, think! Standing up he walked down the same path he did, peaking through the door left ajar.
San frowned as he picked her up, ignoring her whines, "What exactly were you doing?" he asked walking over to the bed, holding her in his arms as she covered her flushed face with her hands mumbling "The clock stopped working."
"Seriously?" quirking a brow at her he stopped walking, looking at her then at the bed, stuff scattered across it, files, pens and her laptop, "Didn't I tell you to rest?"
"I was but then I heard Mr.Jung and I wanted to read his file," she explained, leaning against his chest, mentally noting how he was holding onto her like she weighed lighter than a feather.
He clicked his tongue in protest, about to talk about how he'd handle it but the door burst open, a Mr.Jung stomping in, holding an umbrella in hand, "UNHAND HER YOU PERVERT!"
She flinched when the door slammed open, squeaking as she hugged him close, burying her face in his shirt, arms wrapped around his neck, curling into him as if he'd protect her. On the other hand, San stood there rooted at the spot, at first he was confused as to what Wooyoung was even doing until he noticed the faux bravery morph into some form of fear, his panic setting in.
Wooyoung stood there, umbrella in the air, taking in the sight before him, a man carrying a woman bridal style...oh shit they were together. Please did he Wooyoung himself again?
.
"I am so sorry Miss-"
"It's alright." she cleared her throat, never in her life did she think she'd interview someone whilst being in her pyjamas, the little hearts printed on her shirt and pants. Next to her San sat at a good distance, his face as red as the pot of a plant near the window, intently staring at the coffee table, not even listening to the two converse- he wasn't carrying her around for fun! He was just helping her! She fell off the stool because of the stupid clock and- and her back hurt so his brain just...picking her up was easier and-
"Mr.Choi?"
"Hmm?" instantly turning to her, he regretted it as quick, taking in her soft gaze, almost wanting to crumble at the feet, shit, this wasn't good.
"I said I should hire Mr.Jung, right?"
"Uh...I guess?" he mumbled, discreetly glaring at Wooyoung when she began reading his credentials too, they were good, but managing to be a distinguished student in the country's best culinary school wasn't easy.
"I- I'm sorry for intruding Sir." he cleared his throat, if he had to kiss this man's pointy polished shoes to get this job he would, "I should've known you're her boyfriend, it was a lack of better judgement on my part." He paused to look up at him, only to find the man before him malfunctioning, then glancing at the woman who looked like she was swooning, almost awake inside a dream.
"We're just neighbours!" he blurted out, not liking how Wooyoung's neutral expressions morphed into the sassiest, most judgemental look of 'Nah, I don't think so', as he hunched over the table to take a better look at the two.
"I live next doo-"
"You're hired Mr.Jung, I'll see you tomorrow at work!"
.
"Wow, that's...kinda regret not being there to see it." Jongho hummed, taking out an apron and tossing it to Wooyoung who cleared his throat, "I mean, I didn't intend to make things awkward." 
"Sure man." was all Jongho said before patting him on the back, "But until she comes back to work, you're on counter duty, kitchen is off limits." with that he walked away, leaving the new employee to sigh in defeat, looking around at the empty cafe. Considering she was 'still sick' she'd left Jongho in charge but that man was too busy not interacting with customers and staying hidden in the kitchen, occasionally singing out loud- at least he could sing.
He stared through the glass doors, looking at the people passing by, everyone with a purpose, yet, here he was still trying to find his purpose. 
The doors opened and someone walked in, phone pressed onto his ear, his coat neatly folded in half, hanging off his other forearm, the buttons of his waistcoat fighting for their lives when the man heaved out a heavy sigh, "No Mingi, the report is supposed to be sent to Mr Park from the IT department, Park Seonghwa, send it to him and get back to me." A frown was permanently etched onto his face, brows knitted together as he pulled his phone off his ear and stuffed it in his pocket, only froze when he looked at Wooyoung.
The two just stood there staring at each other for a good ten seconds before Wooyoung cleared his throat and greeted him, "We can pretend nothing happened Mr.Choi."
Scratching his neck the businessman nodded, licking his lips out of embarrassment, "Yeah...sure"
"So, what can I get you, unfortunately, the menu still comprises of the usual since I'm not allowed in the kitchen till the boss lady comes." His professionalism impressed San, honestly, he did think the guy couldn't pull it off but he was glad he wasn't mentioning yesterday at all.
"Oh umm... Jongho knows I called him-"
"Yes, yes, no need to wet your expensive pants Mr.Choi." the kitchen door opened as Jongho walked out with two giant paper bags, San's eyes scanning the change of printing, somewhat proud she took his suggestion on investing in merchandise printing.
"Here's your usual, one for Princess Mingi and the other princess who lives next door." Placing the bags on the counter he smirked at the man, who cleared his throat, trying not to look at Wooyoung whose resting b*tchface was back, comprised of the look which San easily read, 'Nice to see a clown clowning himself.'
"So, aren't corporate breaks supposed to be like...40 minutes long?" Jongho asked, leaning against the counter as he sighed, "You gonna hurry there and back or you gonna eat with her-"
"I- she has to give paperwork for you that's why she called me, I had a half day anyway." He mumbled, quickly taking out his card that Wooyoung slowly took from him, side-eying the man, who was still mumbling excuses, though all Wooyoung could hear was "We're just neighbours".
Of course, they were just neighbours.
.
Shit. Of all the times his car decided to throw a tantrum, it was now. Not only did he leave work late but it was raining, so now, Choi San sat in his car staring at the empty highway, the streetlights his only companion. Clicking his tongue, he tried to switch on the engine again, trying to press on the gas, only for the vehicle to whine in refusal. Sighing he gripped the wheel, resting his forehead against it, sighing at the coolness of the leather. What could he do? Get a cab? No, no cabs would be around right now. Call Yeosang? No, he lived in the opposite direction, he would come to help him, but he knew the man had a presentation due tomorrow. He could…call her. He didn’t want to though; things had become a bit…awkward.
Truth be told he didn’t really want to admit it, but after the Wooyoung incident, he tried to pretend nothing happened and to his amazement, she did too, their routine was as normal as ever, conversations would flow easily, though she’d still do most of the talking. Until one particular Friday night when they were having dinner at her place, she told him she wouldn’t be carpooling anymore because she had finally gotten used to driving and needed to go to other places. Although he was proud, his smile indicating his happiness and joy to see her bloom into a beautiful flower, a nostalgic and heavy blue began to spread in his chest, weighing down on his appetite, as he slowly put down the fork, pushing the plate ever so gently and discreetly, looking at her intently when she began to show him the route she’d take to the market, asking him if it was good or if there was another route. Unfortunately, was too busy looking at her to even care, to even give an honest opinion, she was glowing that night, and he could bask in her warmth forever, but there was no such thing as forever, he knew that happy endings were nonsense, especially when it came down to him. So, after that night, he had slowly begun to distance himself, making sure to leave before she’d wake up and come back later than usual, texting would just comprise of him sending one-liner responses, and he’d even cancelled some of their dinners together saying he had to stay in the office late. Yeosang had asked him a few times about her, but all he’d say was that she was busy and he didn’t want to interfere- that was true though, it was he who helped her out with all the planning and the financial agenda, it was him who supported her endlessly, who pulled her back up to her feet when she’d be close to giving up- but that didn’t mean he wanted to watch her fly away from the front row seats, no, he’d rather see his swan take flight with grace and elegance from the sidelines, he’d be there, he’d always be there, but like her shadow, after all, he too was afraid of being hurt, he couldn’t handle it, not again, after all, they were just neighbours.
A tap on the window had him jerking back into sitting properly, blinking away the blurriness he turned to the window, eyes widening at the figure outside before lowering the window, “What are you-
“Need a ride?” she smiled, trying to conceal any other emotion bubbling within her, her grip on the umbrella tightening when she noticed his frown, not responding to her question, though she could see the questions swirling in his eyes, possibly at the tip of his tongue, but she knew he’d never ask, just keep them in, let them simmer into something else, probably guilt…or anger.
“I had to do a complete inventory check today so I closed up late. Was driving by and I saw your car…” gesturing towards her own car that was parked in front of his, the hazards blinking in the rain.
“My car…broke down.” He mumbled, before reaching for his bag and nodding at her, letting her move back before coming out of the car, waiting for the rain to pour down on his already defeated parade, but that didn’t happen, for she had extended her arm to full height, tilting forward so he was covered by it, letting the water splash onto her head instead. There she went again, worrying about him, trying to rip open the bag he was gripping onto tight, not wanting anything to spill out.
.
Patting the droplets off her she pulled out a few tissues and dried her hands. He sat next to her, buckled up, laptop bag on his lap, even though she had told him to put it on the backseat but he refused, holding onto it like a child throwing a tantrum. They’d been driving silently for a while, the only sound between them was of the rain slapping against her little red card.
“Thanks.”
“For what?” she asked, trying not to speed on the slippery highway, the rain had worsened, who knew a light shower was going to turn into a full-blown storm? The problem wasn’t the rain in general but visibility was becoming an issue, well, there was this third party between them, a form of invisible wall that was keeping the two apart, or rather he was being pulled away, while she just held onto him, trying to pull him back to her, though ever so slowly she could sense that he was letting go of her hand.
He never responded to her question, just continuing with the silent treatment. Sighing out of frustration she flicked the left blinker before slowly parking across the yellow line at the side of the road, before them the road was barely visible, she thought he’d question but he didn’t he wasn’t stupid, even though he didn’t want to be here, stuck in the same space as her, too afraid he’d blurt out all he had hidden, he knew even if he took the wheel instead of her, he couldn’t see through the rain. So, the two sat in silence, as if the other wasn’t there, one of the most awkward the two had been with each other like they were strangers all over again. That is until she finally decided to take matters into her own hands,
“Are you…upset with me?”
He looked up from his lap to her, a small pout present on his lips before shaking his head and turning back to stare at his lap.
“Do you…not want to be friends with me anymore?” she knew these questions were somewhat pointless, in the time they had spent together she had learned one thing, that he was rarely bothered by her, in fact sometimes he’d go out of his way to make her feel better, make her feel safer, so what bothered her was not knowing what had he pulling away like this. She thought as she’d grown more independent, he’d be happy, proud of her progress, not this.
“No.”
Was all he said, not even bothering to look at her, instead choosing to take out his phone, maybe he could just check on work or- he couldn’t though, because she snatched it out of his hand. His head whipped in her direction, and a glare followed, “Give it back.” He spat only for her to shake her head and shove it in the pocket of her, shaking her head.
“I said give it back. I’m not joking. I’m not in the mood.” Groaning he leaned closer to her, trying to reach for her pocket but she slapped his hand off his pocket, only for him to grip her wrist, trying to hold his anger at bay.
“Not until you tell me why you hate me!” she yelled tugging her wrist out of his grasp.
“I DON’T HATE YOU!” he yelled back, turning to her completely, his laptop bag falling off his lap, God this car for so small, he barely had leg room!
“THEN WHY ARE YOU PULLING AWAY!”
“BECAUSE I CAN’T STAND AND WATCH WHILE YOU LEAVE ME BEHIND!”
“I- she froze at his words, the weight of the statement settling in around them. Letting out a sigh he turned around, rubbing his face with his hands, trying to control his breathing, trying to stop his thoughts from running around, pushing and shoving every emotion he had buried in below. For a moment he even thought of stepping out in the rain to cool down, but the gentle grip of his shoulder stopped him.
“Mr.Choi please I would never leave you behind, I-
“Oh, stop it, would you.” He scoffed, brushing her hand off his shoulder, “I’ve known you for what? Six, seven months now and you still don’t call me by my first name, I- I literally use your name and you’re so impersonal that –
“I don’t know your first name.”
Once again, they were greeted with silence, at this point the sound of the rain was the only thing keeping the two from exploding at one another, a series of bottled-up feelings, emotions that were untouched for so long, that the layer of dust on them had turned into a sheet of sand, one that had obscured rationality and logic.
“What” Taking in a deep breath he began, “What do you mean?”
Rolling her eyes at him she huffed, “Because you never told me, not once, since the day I met you the only way I found out your last name too was because the security guard greets you as Mr.Choi, and he did that the first next you dropped me home.” Taking the phone out of her pocket she placed it on the dashboard in front of him, “I don’t know why you think I’d leave you; I now own the apartment next to you thanks to you, I have dinner with you almost every other day, I let you carry me around when I’m tired, I cook meals for you not because I am obligated but because I want to, I- I ask you for help all the time with the full confidence that you’ll never say no”, pausing she looked at the road, the rain had slowed, much like the whirlpool of unkempt emotions that were stirring between them, “ and if you haven’t realised by now, I’m not very big on change. So, no, Mr.Choi, I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon.”
“San” he whispered, staring at the road ahead, much like her, too afraid to even look at her, who knew all it would take was a confession like that to calm him down, put his worries to rest, untying the bag he had knotted up so well after he had his broken heart handed back to him.
“Nice to meet you San.” Was all she said before starting the car, now driving home, after the much fearsome, prolonged storm. No other words were exchanged, but unlike before, the silence was no longer awkward or heavy, it was pleasant, a new kind of pleasant, one that oddly enough he was welcoming.
The ride up the elevator was no different, the two were walking casually like nothing had happened, though San knew something had happened, and for some reason, the bitter-sweet reality of it made him want something more to happen, he was only looking for the right moment for it to happen.
She was about to enter her apartment when he called her out, causing her to turn around and almost bump into him, when had he come so close?
“I don’t want to be just neighbours anymore.”
Facing him properly she nodded looking up at him, “I see, then what do you want?”
“I…” averting his gaze he thought for a moment, wondering if he could jump into it, or take caution and slowly see where it goes, though the little critter in his chest was begging him to let loose, his rationality projected by his fears had him second-guessing almost every micro decision he had come up with in these seconds, “I…want…more?”
“Then,” pursing her lips together she narrowed her eyes at him, moving closer to see if he’d move back, but he didn’t, he stood there, staring at her intently, shy yet so curious, she’d barely ever seen him like this before, her lips curving into a smile, “Let’s take it slow?”
He nodded a bit too eagerly at her question, earning a chuckle from her, as she turned around and pointed inside, “Dinner? Though it’s late, I can make us something light?” He had followed her inside that night, somewhat nervous about starting a new chapter in his life, yet, excited like a little boy about to win a race.
.
“Mr.Choi, there’s uhh…there’s someone here to meet you?” Mingi’s voice blared out of the speaker causing San to stop typing, frowning at the time, it was 11 am he had no meetings for the day, so why would someone just pop up, Yeosang was on leave today as well so- the door opened and he could hear Mingi calling someone out, “Miss! Wait Mr.Choi hasn’t allowed you to-
“It's…fine Mingi.” He nodded at his assistant, before his eyes locked with her, her smile radiant as ever, as she coly made her way to his desk, “Hi San.” ‘San’, she’d been using his name more often now, all night even at dinner, she’d somehow slip it in every sentence and he’d somehow slip into that gooey pool of mush every time his name would roll off her tongue.
“You- you had a day off today, right? Do you want to spend time together, I-“ he stood up, quickly trying to clean his desk though she placed something on the empty corner of the glass table, “I just came to drop off your lunch San, I made special cookies today, and if you like them, we’ll introduce them, Wooyoung even decided a name for them.”
“Oh?” he asked, his eyes sparkling at the sight of the lunch boxes, a well-fed boy was a happy boy and he was so glad she’d feed him well, even when they were ‘just neighbours’. So, knowing she was still doing that, only adding onto the perk by coming to him and surprising him at work had something within him strangling his heart in joy, “What’s the name?”
“Well…initially it was something I wanted to talk to you about if you’d be okay if I call you that, but then he said we could name them after that, but I feel like only I should be allowed to call you that.” She cleared her throat looking around his spacious office, she never thought his office would be this big or high up for the matter, not a day went by where this man didn’t amaze him.
He stopped opening the boxes to look up at her, “What do you want to call me?”
“Sannie.”
.
Things had been great, well, somewhat, although they were ‘no longer neighbours’, there was still no official label and it confused San how she was alright with that. Sure, they’d spend more time together now, she’d drop by sometimes before lunch just to drop off his lunch, but he was still San at work, and only Sannie when the two were alone. Moreover, they’d never really been…physical. Not that he didn’t want to ‘do the deed’ or something- well, technically- no he did but, this isn’t what he meant, he knew they were taking it slow, but sometimes, he’d feel the affectionate Sannie resurface and it would take everything in his power to hold him back. What if she wasn’t into that? What if she thought he was clingy overbearing or too sensitive? Would she think he’s coming on too strong if he asked ‘what they were’?
“Sannie?” she asked, poking his shoulder, “You aren’t eating, don’t like the food or the movie?” Placing her plate on the coffee table she paused the film when he didn’t look at her, “Sannie…you gotta talk to me about these things, I can’t read your mind-
“Would you like to start a business venture with me?” In front of him was not her Sannie or San, no, turning to face her with a hard face and honest eyes was a man sitting up straight, hands pressed against his knees, it was Mr.Choi.
“Umm…I…like a collaboration?”
“Yes, of sorts.”
“I…I mean I don’t really need Jongho’s permission it is just my business.”
“It is.”
“I guess…but don’t you already have a job, San?” was he planning on quitting?
“I do, but this venture is more important, I prefer it over my job.”
“Sannie, my café is doing good, but quitting your job for it, especially at the designation you’re at it’s not logical-
“Be my girlfriend”, he yelled in frustration, cutting her off before meekly averting his gaze, “Please…”
“I…” she took a minute to think before scooting closer to him, his fingers digging into the material of his pants, though when she placed her hands over his, he visibly relaxed, “I just love how you’re so uptight Mr.Choi.”
She smiled, but he only frowned at that, why would she call him by his last name? Did he do anything to upset her? Was he perhaps moving too quickly for her liking? Or should he have been more romantic- actually this wasn’t really romantic at all, he can’t believe he just did that, he should’ve thought this through, he should’ve planned properly, it had only been a month and –
His brain switched off because of the sudden pressure on his lips, hands automatically reaching to hold onto the source, she was…kissing him? His eyes closed when she slowly moved closer, helping her onto his lap as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, taking charge, until she slowly pushed him back, his back pressing against the sofa, eyes flickering open to meet her flushed face, a small smile gracing her lips, he had smudged her lipstick- nice.
“Do I…take that as a yes?” he sighed, body completely relaxed, his hands giving her waist a gentle squeeze.
“I don’t know, maybe we should seal the deal again?”
His chuckle echoed across the room, film and food long forgotten, the only thing he could focus on was her, and slowly, he began to feel as if the gates he was trying to keep closed were merely inches away from bursting open.
.
“We need to talk.”
“Um…okay, why are you slowly letting go of the weights- Jongho, Jongho, buddy, stop.” He wheezed, looking up at his spotter who was glaring down at him, “How serious are you?” he asked lifting the weights ever so slightly.
“FOR STAYING ALIVE, PRETTY SERIOUS- JONGHO!” he gasped when the man almost let go of the weight.
“Should we…stop them?” Wooyoung asked, yes, he too had become their newest addition to their gym buddies’ group, Yeosang who was walking on the treadmill beside him shrugged, “I don’t think so, this is between them, plus knowing San took a year just to confess to her, even though he was treating her like he was her boyfriend, I believe Jongho has every right to harass him.”
“I’m serious.” Jongho warned, glaring at the man who was not only turning blue but was now drenched in cold sweat, shaking his head and pleading out an ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
“I mean her, I’ve had to pick up the pieces once and I let it go because the guy wasn’t directly involved, but you- you son of a- you have her sitting at the café daydreaming about what you’d like to eat at night. You have her calling me at night asking me what shirt you’d think she looks best in? Would you prefer her in pants or a skirt- you have her working her ass off to make you proud and so help me God if you ever even think of hurting her-
Before he could finish his monologue San threw the weights off him, heaving as he stood up, wiping the drool off his mouth with the back of his hand as he stood up straight, his breathing heavy as he looked directly at Jongho, “Never. Do that. Again. And I may be a slow-witted loser but I am no abuser- and her” he turned to look at the hoodie on the opposite bench, a blue hoodie, there was nothing special about the hoodie, but the fact that it was the first ever gift she had given him, telling him she had a matching one, so they could wear it together at home, “I don’t even think I spend a single moment of my pathetic life where I can’t be thinking about her.”
By now Yeosang and Wooyoung had gotten off the treadmills and were standing on standby just in case things escalated, but San’s confession had them staring at him in awe. Well, Wooyoung was just glad that the clown had stopped clowning himself, but Yeosang, no, he was thrilled if not glad that San had finally accepted to let himself be happy once more, he had allowed himself to love once more- even if this was just the first stage, even if they were still going through their awkward relationship stages, he was just glad to know that things were getting better for San.
Jongho looked at him before nodding, then turning to point at the weights, “Throwing gym equipment is stupid, no wonder people like you who make so much money are careless.” Clicking his tongue at him he picked up his duffle bag, “Anyway, Shakespeare, Imma hit the showers, don’t forget she’s making you pasta tonight, so you better hurry up.” He left San standing there, letting his own speech process, slowly the seed had begun to germinate and deep down he knew, he was counting on it to turn into a field, one she could run around in, laughing with joy.
.
Sighing she slowly pulled away from him, being extremely careful of two things; firstly, to not wake him up and secondly to not cause any harm to his sheets. She didn’t want to stay at his place tonight, she even told him no because he had an early meeting tomorrow, and she was on her… period, so to sleep over with her new boyfriend and possibly leak on his pristine white sheets was not on the agenda, that and the fact that the cramps were hitting hard and her back was probably broken just made it more difficult for her to find the perfect position.
So, that’s how she found herself sitting on his couch, hoping to God that the pain medicine would start working soon, or maybe it could take a few hours and San could get a good night’s rest and by the time he’s about to wake up, she’d slip right back in and-
“Are you okay?”
“SHIT” throwing a cushion at him she whined, especially when it hit him square in the face, causing him to stumble back, pouting at her, “What did I do?”
“I’m sorry, Sannie, I- I’m fine I promise, I just couldn’t sleep and your sheets are clean and-
“Yes, I am aware my sheets are clean, so you don’t have to worry-
“That’s why I am worried,” she sighed only for it to turn into a groan as she hugged herself, trying to ease the pain. Oh, he looked at her, he’d seen this before, he knew what had happened, “Do you think I’ll find it weird if you…I mean…It's normal if it happens right?”
“It's gross.” She mumbled only for him to sigh and slowly reach for her arm, “Do you want me to carry you?” he asked as if it was completely normal, umm…it wasn’t technically? He’d just carry her around when she’d refuse to do something or when he was in his playful Sannie mood- which was often only behind closed doors when the suit didn’t define him.
“nO” Quickly getting up she motioned for him to walk first, “Why-“
“JUST DO IT” she yelled only for him to quickly turn around and head towards his bedroom, no need to piss off his girlfriend during that time of the month. Huffing out in frustration she ‘readjusted’ her pants, trying to reposition the horrid excuse of a lady diaper, no, she did not want him to see this scene, it was not even remotely attractive.
Sighing she laid down next to him, what she had forgotten was how much this man loved physical affection because as soon as she turned to face him, he pulled her closer, her face pressing into his neck as he rested his chin on top of her head, an arm under her head acting as his pillow and the other one securely wrapped around her waist. Now she needed to stay still, especially when she heard him snore, he had fallen asleep so quickly, of course, he was tired, the guilt slowly settling in. She really should have gone home tonight.
Her body jerked when a sharp pain shot across her lower half, her fingers gripping his shirt as she held her breath, trying to restrict extra movements. At this point she could just wither away in pain, waiting for the meds to work before she wakes him up and he throws her out for not letting him get a decent night’s sleep.
For a few moments, her little movements continued until he abruptly pulled away and wordlessly sat up, to reach for something on his nightstand, probably his phone- man, she should really apologise and leave now, but before she could make her way off the bed he turned around and stood on his knees, slowly pushing her to lay on her front, “Umm…San?”
“Your back hurts, right?” he mumbled, gently lifting her shirt to reveal some of the skin, “I hope this helps, my sister recommended it.” With that he began to rub the ointment on her lower back, trying to mimic the similar motions she’d use while working on his neck or shoulders from time to time- yes, he had finally obtained that perk. He only stopped when she completely relaxed under his touch, smiling when he realised, she was asleep, gently pulling her shirt back down he got off the bed, tucking her in, making sure to place a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers on the bedside. Little did she know that she had been in pain all night and not just a few minutes, she dozed off sometime in between only to wake up in pain again, though he had slept through most of it peacefully, which is why when he woke up, feeling her shiver in pain, he realised getting up a few minutes before his alarm rang wouldn’t be so bad, he could use the time to help her out, so while reaching for the ointment he had also shut off his alarm, knowing he wouldn’t be going to sleep once he helped her out.
.
“Ignoring you?” he asked, wiping another cup and handing it to her as she stacked it on the rack with a pout, “Well, not ignoring, he’s just…gone quiet like he’s giving me the silent treatment.” She explained, looking to see if Jongho, who was brooming was listening to them, only to find him staring at her, “Oh I don’t know maybe he’s upset about the fact that your ex-fiancé came here since you invited him?”
“Wait- WAIT WHAT?” Wooyoung gasped, turning to Jongho who nodded, “Soohyuk wanted to see her, and she won’t tell me why, she called him here and ironically he and San had entered at the same time, and instead of introducing him to Soohyuk she just talked to him and ignored San.”
“Man, I’m never gonna take an off again, so much drama in one day.” Was all Wooyoung had said, yet the poor boy got smacked with a tissue, before watching her stomp out of the café, leaving the two men staring at her confused.
“Umm…do we stop her?”
“Nah…” was all Jongho said, the only reason he even knew about this issue was because the moment he had seen Soohyuk enter he knew something was up, what he didn’t expect was for her to go to him instead of San, and ironically, she didn’t even introduce San, which confused him even more. The moment he had looked at the other man, he noticed the way his eyes had gone blank, void of any emotion, yet he could see the one hiding behind his eyes, he knew what he was thinking, one of the many things San had confessed to him about- once the two had become official and Jongho would keep tabs on him- was his fear of being left behind, knowing that one day, eventually everyone would leave him, even her. So, yes, when she had walked past the finance director like he was a mere stranger, he knew this would trigger San, he just didn’t know in which direction the river would flow.
A knock on the door caused the two to look up, Yeosang just sighed, “At this point, you should just fire Mingi.” Shaking his head at his friend San called out to the person, permitting them to enter, usually with the glass walls and door he could see who was on the other side, but for the past two days the blinds were lowered, concealing whatever was happening inside his office, much like whatever was happening inside his heart. The door opened to reveal someone he had been avoiding for the past few days, though he never said anything to make her leave.
Yeosang looked at San’s expression morph into displeasure, turning in his seat to find the man’s significant other standing there, quickly standing up he smiled at her, greeting her before excusing himself.
Honestly, she was surprised by Yeosang’s reaction, she thought he’d be upset with her, Jongho was upset with her and considering Yeosang and San were good friends, she presumed that San might’ve just told him about the issue, though maybe he didn’t or maybe he did and Yeosang is just very good at pretending.
“You could’ve called.” Was all he had said until he found her standing right next to him, her hands gripping onto the armrests of his chair, turning his swivel chair to face her, his eyes widening at the proximity, they were still at his workplace, what if someone barged in? What if Mingi came in?
“I can’t fall behind, I’m tired of falling behind.” She said leaning closer, not to kiss him, but to make sure he was still looking at her, she needed him to understand her perspective, needed him to understand her insecurities, “He knows about you.”
Scoffing in retaliation he leaned closer and hissed, “I don’t care if he does,” eyes scanning her face for any hint or gesture of insincerity, but he couldn’t see it, or perhaps his foolish heart had convinced him once more, deceiving him into making him believe she was his.
“Then why are you upset?” her hands let go of the chair, reaching for his, but he pulled back, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning back against the chair as he stared up at her, “Falling behind? What do you mean by that, was this all a race or competition where you were trying to win him ba-
“Choose your words carefully Mr.Choi.” she cut him off, words seething with anger.
“Because they’re true?” coking his head to the side he noticed the way her hands were fisted at her sides, nails digging into her palms, “Tell me.”
“I…” letting out a shaky breath she looked at her shoes, no longer having the confidence to look at his face, “I couldn’t let him…I didn’t know what he was…going to say…I can’t lose you; I didn’t want to…he came to apologise…nothing more, nothing less. I didn’t want you to meet someone who never saw me the way you see me, what if you realised…that it wasn’t worth it anymore more…that it was a waste of time.” Walking over to the chair at the other end of the table she sat down, eyeing all his paperwork, “I…I’m sorry, I should’ve told you, I can’t hold you back just because I’m left behind all the time.”
He watched her intently, listening to each word, slowly realising what she meant, but he also came to another realisation, they were still walking on eggshells, especially around each other, choosing not to show their greys to each other, choosing to leave out the bad parts of the story, the poorly written scenes and the abrupt jump cuts, yet, this form of false perfection was what was making it worse for them, worse for him, especially when he knew that he no longer liked her. He no longer felt the same attraction- he felt more.
He was in love with her.
Turning to face her, he took a deep breath, his hands on the table, slowly reaching over to hold hers, his thumbs running soothing circles over her hands, “I…I was…I…I don’t want you to leave me too. Before you, there was someone else.”  He felt her go tense under his words, his eyes flickered to hers, noticing the settling anxiety, before he gave her a gentle smile, “Was…don’t worry, she didn’t want my heart anymore and I…I guess I didn’t want to give it to anyone anymore either. Until you came along, crying outside because you lost the key to your own apartment…I swear I was going to ignore you and leave, but…” Letting out a dry chuckle he glanced at the clock, she often did come by when it was lunch, maybe he’d take her somewhere special today, far from the office and the café, “I couldn’t, and I don’t know how…maybe because you were so patient with me, maybe I saw myself in you, I wanted to make sure you had someone to help you whenever you’d fall…but I was also scared that if I gave you my heart, you’d give it back and…f*ck Yeosang was right.” He sighed, giving up on where this was going, trying to pull his hands back but her grip tightened, causing him to look at her in surprise.
“He was…but I like it…I like that you’re a romantic, Sannie.” She smiled lacing their fingers together, “I won’t force you…but I need you to understand that I…I fell in love with you the day you unlocked my door for me… I just waited for the day you’d return the feelings…so yeah, I’ll confess, that I’ve loved you from the start.”
His eyes widened at the confession, face turning pink at the realisation, this must be love. The feeling that was brewing inside of him, ready to burst, this must be love. His whole body felt warm and fuzzy, he wanted to run to her and pull her close, almost engulfing her whole being, but his legs felt like jelly, this must be love. Though he didn’t need to get up, because she had come to him, smiling down at him as she cupped his face, her thumb stroking his cheek, he looked up at her through hooded eyes, enjoying the warmth, welcoming this nostalgic sensation, this must be love.
“I love you.” He whispered, hands gripping her waist, fingers digging into her, holding onto her as if he were afraid, she’d disappear.
“It’s about time you realise.” Letting out a chuckle she leaned closer, brushing her lips over hers, about to say something when they heard a static sniff followed by a sob, both of them freezing in act.
“Mingi…how long have you been there for?”
“I forgot to tell you your mic was on…sir.”
.
“Couple’s activities?” he mumbled, staring up from his book, his reading glasses at the tip of his nose as his girlfriend at the edge of the bed, legs crossed with a magazine in her lap, successfully stealing yet another one of his hoodies. The glow of the lamp illuminated her innocent features, though he knew behind those sparkly eyes hid some agenda that he would soon regret, even though he loved her with all his heart, he had realised long before that being an only child meant that her parents had always kept her busy, books, movies, school, other activities, even got her a Jongho- now that Jongho had completely passed her onto him, it was his job to entertain his princess in the late hours of the night.
“So…like se-
“No, you pervert- my God, all men are the same.” She huffed picking up the magazine to show him the list on the glossy, extremely bright coloured paper, the glare of the lamp just making it more difficult for him to read, “That’s a long list- I’m not going skydiving- YOU AREN’T either.”
“Sheesh, fine, but we can try cutting your hair.”
His hand instinctively went to his luxurious onyx locks, he liked his hair the way it was, and he knew she did too, from how she’d run her fingers through it when they’d be lazing around, from how she’d play with his hair when he’d lay on her lap for a little nap, from how she’d tug and pull on it when they’d be…
“Just a trim!” she broke his chain of thoughts, crawling to him and slapping the magazine on his lap, “You said you needed a trim! And- and it’ll be free!” she smiled, giving him the cutest face she could muster, though he stared back at unamused.
“No.”
“I- but- Sannie,” whining she pointed at the small text, “It’s so intimate and it’s- it’s all about trust.” Grabbing his arm she shook him violently, he almost missed the early stages of their relationship, where she was still shy and nervous around him, now she’d gained the confidence to be bratty around him, even demanding they sleep at his place because ‘You have a bigger bathtub’, incorrect, he didn’t but maybe she just liked using his shampoo- not that he’d mind, he preferred her smelling like she belonged to him, his scent carrying around her.
“How about a free massage as well?”
"There. All done." He finally opened his eyes to stare at his reflection in the mirror, confused at first, then angered, then even a bit humoured, "Um...what do u think is different with this and my usual haircut?" It was his fault, it really was, he agreed to this nonsense and now…he even fell asleep when she was working on his shoulders, but that was before she cut- no chopped off his beautiful locks.
"I... I mean it's a bit different Sannie but I-" she tried to clarify, smoothening it down, only to flatten it and…perhaps make it a bit worse, see, the thing was, during her little barber role-play, she had realised she’d trimmed a bit too much on one side, so she had to even it out and that led to umm…well
'I look like a POTATO!" her glared at her through the mirror, face red with embarrassment.
"NOOO! U don’t" whining she leaned closer to peck his cheek but he pulled away, whipping his head in her direction to glare at her, then looked at his hair through the mirror again, hands going to pull on the short hair, it was so…short, "Please, I love you, I know you said haircutting is a couple's activity but- babe I"
Hearing a sniff, he stopped staring up at her reflection, he didn't mean for her to cry, but the way she was biting her lower lip tugged at his heart. "I-"
Before he could start a giggle escaped her and he stopped, glaring at her, his face blank like the first time they met, "Ma’am, is something funny?"
"No....Mr.Potato head"
.
“Good morning Mr.Choi - what's up with this cap" Mingi looked at his boss who zoomed past him into the office, tugging on his baseball cap, slamming the door behind him as he yelled.
"Nothing Mingi, whatever happens, DO NOT let Yeosang in my office today"
"He's already there, sir."
Frowning San turned to meet eyes with a familiar brunette, his chin in his palm as he sat on San’s seat, a little smirk ever so present as he eyed the taller man, all dressed up in a nice suit, the only thing odd about him was the smudged lipstick on his jaw, which he probably didn’t even know was there and the baseball cap.
"Your girlfriend dropped you off huh? Car trouble again?'" Yeosang asked, before pointing at his jaw, “You also got a little something there Mr.Choi, guess the black waistcoat is a fan favourite, huh?”
San quickly made his way to his desk, grabbing the chair the other man was on and rolling it away from his monitor, mumbling as he grabbed a few tissues to wipe off the lipstick, he couldn’t even be mad at her because it was his idea to follow couple’s activity #43 ‘Wear a lipstick shade your partner likes’, apparently, he liked it a bit too much.
After that little entrance, they’d been sitting peacefully, with San working away and Yeosang…well he was just wasting time as usual, though at least he had yet to ask the question.
“So, what’s with the cap”, Yeosang asked as he made an intricate paper plane with another one of San's documents, they were going in the shredder anyway.
The other man, pouted for a split second before clearing his throat, "My head feels cold." continuing typing like he didn't care.
"I see." Yeosang eyed him before throwing the plane at him, watching the pointy nib smack against the man's cap, earning a glare, "So, will you bring her as your plus one to this annual fundraiser? Has she cleared all your tests? Check marks all your boxes of requirements of a partner?"
Sighing he leaned back at the thought, did she? Was she the ideal partner he asked for? Sure, she was somewhat clumsy and bratty, but then again, he wasn't the best either, he was whiney and slow-witted at times but with what they two had been through, how much they had grown, how much she had grown, of course she'd been the one, he had come to this realization when he saw her waiting outside for him in the rain, 'worried about him'.
"I'll take that as a yes," he said eying the man who was too lost in thought as he got up to leave, "By the way she was wrong."
"Hmm?" he frowned at his friend who was dusting off his clothes, "You don't look cute, you do look like Mr Potato head".
.
“San, I swear upon your Benz, if you turn off the heater, I’ll key your car.” She shivered, pulling another blanket over them as he pushed it off, trying to reach over her for the remote of the heater only to slap his hand away, “YAH CHOI SAN”
“ITS HOT! AND STUFFY! I’M SWEATING LOOK!” he lifted his sweatshirt for-  honestly, she really forgot what his point was, a bit too distracted for her own good before he huffed and took it off completely, flinging it across the room, giving her all the blankets and laying on his back, “It’s barely even winter, and look at you. I said don’t go playing in the snow, you can barely withstand a cool breeze, you thought the snow was gonna go easy on you? You’re just like Wooyoung, both of you are the same with the snow and winter.”
“Well, not everyone has the body temperature of an old, grumpy cat, Sannie.” She huffed, scooting closer to him, trying to steal his body heat, the fabric of the quilt making his skin burn.
“OLD?”
“Well, I did call you Mr.Choi out of respect too, I thought you were wayyyyyyyyyyy older than me.” Turning his head on the pillow to look at her, he made a face, rolling his eyes at the innocent smile she gave him, the tip of her nose still pink, shrugging at him. Sighing he moved closer to her, much to her pleasure.
“Take off your pants.”
“You really are an old pervert-
“Couple’s activity #136, you genius.” He huffed manoeuvring so he was under the blankets with her.
“I refuse to accept we’ve done so many.”
“We haven’t, I tore out some pages because I was not going to do couple’s yoga on the balcony.”
“Ah…I see. Anyway, still not going to take off my pants because you’re a bit needy.” She sighed, when he pulled her closer, his body heat helping her shivering body calm down.
“Well, aren’t you just an innocent peach, activity 136 says sharing body warmth is important and intimate, you can use me as a human heater and I can use you like a cooling pack.” He said tugging at the band of her pants, helping her out of them, sighing when he felt her cold legs on his warm ones, making the blanket a bit more bearable.
“Who knew Sannie was so thoughtful.” She purred, nuzzling her face in his neck, earning a huff, his arms tightening around her, squeezing her until she let out an airy laugh in protest.
“I am very thoughtful.” He sighed, feeling her relax against him.
“That you are…Mr.Potato head.”
.
Huffing out in both frustration and bliss she stared up at the ceiling, the warm mood lights in her room, feeling him flopping down beside her, the bed trembling at the act.
“Tub’s filling up. You’re also out of bath bombs”
“Your tub is bigger- how many did you use this time?”
“No. It is not…. around four” He sighed laying on his back to stare up at the ceiling with her, his hands reaching for hers, knuckles brushing against hers before she slowly tangled their fingers together, “Thank you for taking me to your event tonight…I really liked it.”
“Thank you for being my plus one.” He smiled, thinking back to how when anyone and everyone there would ask him who she was he’d introduce her as his girlfriend, the love of his life, someone he potentially wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
“Though I believe making sure I can’t walk tomorrow is going to be a problem for me at work.”
“Couple’s activity #159.”
“Did it specify tearing my favourite dress?”
“No, but the San in the mirror who used to have nice hair told me to.”
.
Two years, she had been together with this man for two very happy years, yet he still could confuse her every time he asked her something very important, such as now, right in her café, well, technically she was in the storage closet, counting and restocking when he walked in unannounced.
“Umm…is there no one there to take your order, Sannie?” she asked, looking up at him, using a carton as a makeshift seat, clipboard in her lap, she didn’t even want to do it, but once again, she had lost an epic battle of rock paper scissors from not only Jongho, but Wooyoung as well. The man above her frowned before shaking his head, ever so quiet.
“Okay…was there no one to stop you from coming back here- in an employee-only area.” She asked as he shook his head again, before sitting down beside her on the floor legs crossed, now with the different of elevation, looking up at her with a frown.
“Okay…do you…want to say something?”
“What’s your five-year plan?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves before looking at her, his hands on his knees, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants.
“Ummm…well…what does that mean?” she asked, finally giving up on inventory to get on the floor with him, facing him, sitting in a similar position as she looked at him, noticing how he had closed the storage room door after entering, he needed privacy, so this was an important question to him.
“Where do you see yourself in Five years?”
Oh.
Her eyes widened at the question, throat drying up as she looked at anything but his face, he looked so serious, so focused, like what he had asked her was just like a business deal, well, maybe it was- but that wasn’t all it was, she knew what he meant, she knew he’d have his moments of self-doubt, he’d have moments where the crippling anxiety of having his heart smashed into pieces once more had him awake at night, he’d have his moments where he’d begin to fall, having nothing to hold onto- only this time, he had her.
“I see myself as a Mrs.Choi.”
His ears picked up the all-too-familiar name, his lips quirking up at the mention of his name, blushing like a school girl he almost squealed, leaning over to grab her hands and pull her closer, only his lack of judgement of strength had him pulling her onto his lap- or maybe that is what he wanted to do all along. All she knew was that she was merely inches away from him, his small dimpled smile gracing her with all its glory, “I think I see that too.”
“Yeah?” she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck as she straddled his lap properly, “You see me as a Mrs.Choi?”
“No.” he smiled, locking his arms behind her waist as he noticed her small pout in confusion, pulling her even closer, until the tips of their noses bumped at the sudden jerk, “I see myself as your Mr.Choi.” His dimples deepened when she gasped, before closing the gap between them, leaving small pecks all over his face, leaving him a flustered, blushing mess as she smothered him with all the love that he had closed himself off to, all the love that was taken from him when his heart was tossed back at him, all the love she had in her that was never meant for anyone else other than him, all the love the two planned to share, for as long as they could, hoping it could bloom into something more beautiful one day.
“And I think I see you two getting out of my storage closet before I call the cops.”
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Taglist : @edenesth @mlysalt @spooo00oky @cereal-simp @yessa-vie
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hajiberry · 2 years ago
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4:57 am - bakugou katsuki
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+ established relationship, soft bakugou
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“Hello?”, came your worried voice, the phone call obviously dragging you from sleep.
“Fuck I’m sorry I forgot how early it is”, Bakugou said into the phone, sounding unusually quiet.
“No it’s okay, is everything okay?”, the silence that greeted your question caused your heart rate to speed up. “Katsuki?”
“Yeah, yeah sorry everything’s fine. I just”, he cut himself off with a long sigh. “It’s just fucking stressful over here, I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time and I fucking miss you”
You weren’t surprised by this phone call, every now and then when katsuki was away for work he’d get to the point where he just felt completely overwhelmed, and you were the only person he felt like he could actually express his feelings to.
“I miss you too”, you say softly, trying to gather the right words “I know me saying this doesn’t help but I’m sorry you're stressed, and I know you feel like you're not doing stuff right but you know there’s no one else more capable to handle this situation”, he lets out a soft chuckle, and you could practically see his tense shoulders begin to relax. “I hardly know half the shit you go through with work but I do know that you are the strongest and smartest pro I know so if anyone can figure out what’s going on it’s you”
“Strongest and smartest huh?”, you giggle, wishing you could see the smirk that you knew was creeping up on his face.
“What can I say I only date winners”,
“Oh stroking my ego nice aren’t cha?”, he asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
“Figured you needed to be reminded you’re the best”, you say, earning another light chuckle.
“I love you”, smiling, you roll over, looking over at his empty side of the bed.
“I love you too”,
“Sorry I woke you up”, you shake your head as if he can see you.
“Don’t be, I miss your voice this is nice”, he chuckles
“At what 5 am?”, you shrug, a yawn escaping past your lips.
“I have off tomorrow I’ll be okay”
“Okay, but I’ll let you go” he says, sounding bummed.
“FaceTime me so I can fall asleep next to your face”, you don’t even give him a chance to respond before switching the call to FaceTime. “Hi”
“Hi”, he’s laying down in a hotel room, looking about as tired as you feel.
“We can both fall asleep”, you say softly, laying on your side and propping the phone up. He does the same thing, lightly shaking his head at how silly this seems.
“Alright well good night”, he mumbles, you both quickly getting comfortable, both exhausted from the multiple nights of sleeping alone.
“Good night”, you whisper, letting sleep swallow you up easily for the first time in what’s felt like weeks.
It takes Bakugou a little bit longer to finally fall asleep but he’s more than happy to watch you sleep safe and sound.
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a/n: it’s been forever since I’ve written something omg but I’m trying to get back into writing so if anyone has any request throw them at me!!
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neum6ns · 2 months ago
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little headcanons for vickys powers bc they r so inconsistent it drives me crazy and i’ve made these all up in my head to act like she didn’t die an unfinished character:
after victoria blew up congress in s2, that woman SLEPTTT. we know that blood manipulation in the boys universe is tiring, victoria says it to marie in gen v, so imagine popping 12+ heads one after another… yeah she was exhausted. she literally ran on coffee and energy drinks for the next few days.
she can constantly hear people’s heartbeats and blood flow and it drives her crazy. i feel like she can hear heartbeats the same way cate can hear everyone’s thoughts - that it’s insanely overwhelming. she can definitely tune them out, it just takes a lot of strength and power. her favourite thing is just being alone with zoe, her heartbeat is the only one she can tolerate.
her eyes only turn white when she uses a lot of her powers (blood manipulation or extra durability). because there is no way in hell one of the smartest the boys characters tried to explode homelander’s head on live television - and that her eyes would turn white even though she didn’t succeed? the only reason they did turn white is because she tanked HOMELANDERS LASERS. like that’s an insane feat and ppl don’t credit my girl enough for that smh 😒
i wish we could see vicky with constant white eyes in the hearing scene in s2 but curse you eric kripke!! i love those pretty eyes 😖 (dare i say she has the second best supe eyes in the whole show! my fave is stormfronts, her powers are so cool)
one of my favourite headcanons is that she used to increase her heart rate around homelander to act like she was scared. especially in her first scene in the show when he swoops down and takes the microphone from her. she could’ve popped his head right there, she had minutes to do it, but instead she acted like she was scared - speeding up her heart rate to not give anything away. ugh she’s so smart and perfect.
in my little fanon world vicky did put herself back together after she was so wrongfully killed (😑). but putting herself back together came at a cost and she lost her powers. vicky had always known in the back of her mind just how powerful she was, stan had been telling her that her whole life. she always knew that if something like that happened, she would be able to come back. her body slowly stitched itself back together, making completely new organs and even more blood! her organs were completely made out of her old blood and guts tho, kinda like patchwork jeans! but they work… so they’re good enough for her.
lemme know if you guys would want more stuff like this! i have a whole essay written about how wrong they did her character, how they should’ve done her powers and ended her storylines but… thats the autism speaking
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mya-valentine · 17 days ago
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Headcanon: Bakugou, Kirishima, Midoriya, and Kaminari with a S/O that Has a Motorcycle
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Katsuki Bakugou
Bakugou loves anything that gets his heart pumping, and when he sees you pull up on a motorcycle, he's immediately impressed. The roar of the engine? The sleek design? Yeah, that’s his kind of thing. He’s all about speed and danger, and now that you’ve got a motorcycle, he’s more than eager to hop on for a ride.
Bakugou doesn’t ask for rides—he demands them. He’s always in control, so it takes him a bit to get used to sitting behind you. But eventually, he comes to enjoy the thrill of you weaving through traffic or speeding down an open road. Of course, he’ll never admit that he trusts you enough to handle it.
It’s only a matter of time before Bakugou starts pushing to get his own motorcycle so he can race you. You can bet he’ll be cocky about it, bragging that there’s no way you can beat him in a head-to-head race. It turns into a competition for who’s the better rider, with lots of teasing and banter along the way.
Despite his tough-guy attitude, Bakugou can’t help but worry about your safety. He’ll nag you about wearing your helmet, making sure your bike’s in good condition, and even insists on checking the brakes himself. He won’t say it outright, but it’s clear that he wants you to stay safe while you’re out riding.
Eijiro Kirishima
Kirishima’s eyes light up when he sees you on your motorcycle for the first time. “That’s so manly!” he exclaims, completely in awe. He’s always thought you were cool, but this just takes it to a whole new level in his eyes. He loves how fearless you are, and it makes him admire you even more.
Kirishima is all for jumping on the back of your bike. At first, he’s a bit nervous, but the second you take off, he’s whooping with excitement. “This is awesome!” he shouts over the sound of the engine. He’s all about that thrill and loves holding on tight to you, feeling the wind rush past him.
Kirishima knows a little about mechanics, so he offers to help with maintenance. Whether it’s oiling the chain or checking the tires, he’s eager to pitch in. It’s another way for him to bond with you, and he wants to make sure everything’s safe so you can keep riding together.
Riding a motorcycle takes confidence, and Kirishima is always your biggest cheerleader. “You’re so brave for doing this,” he’ll say, genuinely proud of how cool and bold you are. He’s always hyping you up and never gets tired of watching you in action, whether it’s riding around or handling a tricky situation with the bike.
Izuku Midoriya
Midoriya is both fascinated and worried when he finds out you have a motorcycle. His first thought is about safety—he’s read tons of statistics on accidents and can’t help but fuss over you. But he’s also amazed by your confidence and skill, and he respects you for doing something so bold.
After finding out about your bike, Midoriya goes into full research mode. He starts learning all about motorcycles, from how they work to the best safety gear. He’ll send you little messages like, “Did you know this helmet is rated the safest?” or “I found some tips for riding in bad weather!”
Midoriya isn’t sure about riding with you at first. He’s nervous about the speed and the lack of protection compared to a car. But once you convince him to try, he realizes how exhilarating it is. He’ll cling to you at first, but after a while, he loosens up and starts to enjoy the ride, even if his heart’s still pounding.
Even though he trusts you, Midoriya can’t help but worry every time you head out on your bike. He’ll ask you to text him when you arrive safely and remind you to stay hydrated and be cautious. His concern is sweet, and it shows just how much he cares about you and your well-being.
Denki Kaminari
When Kaminari sees your motorcycle, he’s instantly excited. “Oh man, this is so cool!” he’ll gush, practically bouncing on his feet. He’s already imagining all the fun things the two of you could do with the bike—road trips, racing, and just showing off to your friends.
Kaminari is not shy about asking for rides. “C’mon, take me for a spin!” he’ll beg, hopping onto the back of your bike without hesitation. He loves the thrill of speeding down the road with you and is constantly asking when you can go out for another ride.
He loves bragging to his friends about your motorcycle. “Yeah, my S/O rides a bike. It’s super cool,” he’ll casually drop into conversation, like it’s no big deal. Kaminari thinks it makes both of you look awesome, and he takes any chance he can get to show you off.
Kaminari’s a bit of a goof, so he might try doing silly things while riding—like taking selfies or sticking his arms out to pretend he’s flying. You have to remind him to hang on properly so he doesn’t accidentally fall off, but he just laughs it off, trusting you completely to keep him safe.
.
.
.
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thelov3lybookworm · 3 months ago
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Weeping Heart (Part 4)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Summary: a late night walk in the woods, bandages ripped off old wounds.
•○●⛦●○•
Word Count: 1477
A/n: AHHAHAAHHA I LOVE THISS like it feels so good to be writing 🥹
we getting our hearts broken folks, less goo 🥳
anyways, enjoy!
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There wasn’t a knife at her neck.
That was the first concern Y/n cleared from her mind, her heart rate slowing in comfort before speeding up again.
Who the fuck-
"Y/n, my friend." Slurred a clearly drunk Cardan.
Thank god it’s this fool.
She knew it was mean to think of him this way, but Cardan had never been much of a warrior.
He was a poet.
Made to be a lover, born to be soft hearted, forced to rule.
"Cardan." She gently grabbed his arm, trying to push him off as she breathed deep, her racing heart slowing. "What are you doing here-"
"How are you!" She blinked as he stepped back, spreading his arms as if asking for a hug.
"I’m good, Cardan. How… how are you?" She mumbled, dreading the answer already.
She did not want to know how he was, because if he was not good- which she somehow knew he wasn’t- she would want to return, heartbreak be damned.
And that would end up with her not being good.
"I’m so glad you asked!" He cackled, swaying on his feet before Y/n wrapped her hand around his bicep and forced him to sit. "I am so sad, Y/n. You know why?"
Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at where she could make out the outline of his eyes. "Why?"
She began moving again as he started listing off all the reasons everyone at court bothered him, the way this courtier wasn’t entertaining enough, the way that messenger was too stoic and would never laugh at Cardan’s jokes, the way Jude forced him to sit in the great hall and and just watch, prohibiting him from revelling like he had used to before he was crowned.
It made Y/n smile.
Everything had changed in the past year, with his family being killed, him becoming a king, his sudden marriage, but if there was something that hadn’t changed, it was him.
He kept whining as she arranged her pillows around him, and as he leaned back, she nodded along, just like before.
But then his voice lowered, and she had to strain her ears to hear, even with her advanced fae hearing.
"You left too."
She froze. "I know."
"I don’t have anyone to talk to now Y/n." It was dark, but not enough that she couldn’t make out the small pout on his lips.
"I’m sorry, but it was the queen’s orders-"
"Fuck the orders, Y/n. Come back. I am so lonely without you."
She pulled back from him, blinking away the sudden stinging that started in her eyes, but he was quick, his hand grabbing hers in a vice like grip.
Cardan really was lonely, because he was not one to curse so freely, and if he of all people was cursing…
I’m fucked.
"I was so excited to meet you again, but you haven’t talked to me at all since I arrived. And then I thought you would appreciate your soldiers being distracted so we could talk, but then you got mad and left me alone."
His voice kept getting smaller and smaller, like a child on the verge of crying.
It broke Y/n from the inside.
"Cardan-"
"Please Y/n, I want to talk. Just like we used to." He mumbled, and Y/n watched as his eyelids drooped over his glassy eyes, as if he was on the verge of crying but too tired and drunk to. "Please, don’t ignore me. I’m sorry if I hurt you but-"
She swallowed.
"I- Cardan? You want to talk right?"
He hummed softly, his eyes struggling to stay open as he turned on his side.
"Sleep, my love. We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?"
He turned his head to her again. "You promise?"
She offered him a weak smile, knowing he probably could not see.
"Yes, sweetheart. Rest now."
He passed out before she even finished pulling the duvet over him, and she stared at him for a moment. It was a split second decision, but she hesitantly dipped down, pressing her lips to his temple.
Sighing, she stretched to try and get rid of the sudden pain in her lower back.
She looked around, wondering if she should go back to sleep.
She didn’t, instead stepping out into the crisp night air, her eyes drawing to the softly glowing embers in the middle of the camp, fighting to stay alive long after the fire had died down.
Quietly, she settled down on one of the logs closest to it, lost in her own thoughts.
It wasn’t long before someone interrupted her, though.
"Couldn’t sleep?"
She blinked, then turned to look at the newcomer. "I should be asking you that."
Herb shrugged, plopping down beside her. "I asked first."
Y/n sighed. "You could say that."
He was silent, then- "Why?"
Frustrated, Y/n tilted her head back, eyes fixed on the stars twinkling against the dark sky. "Because my bed is occupied."
He nodded, like he knew exactly what she was talking about.
"Why are you here?"
"Couldn’t stop thinking about all the things. Too much on my mind to shut off."
Y/n hummed.
Neither of them spoke after that. Surrounded by silence and his quiet company, Y/n felt oddly at peace.
In the distance, Y/n thought she heard an owl hoot, the quiet rustling of leaves, the crunch of snow. It calmed her.
Herb stood then, cracking his back.
"Come."
She blinked. "What?"
"I’m going to take a walk in the forest. Come with me."
She thought about it for a moment, then stood. "Not too deep, Herb."
He grinned his signature goofy smile, his canines glinting under the light of the full moon.
"Do you realise what you just said? I can make so many jokes with that."
Y/n shook her head, exasperated, shoving his shoulder as she began walking off towards the dense cover of trees. He continued cackling like a madman, his steps near silent as he fell in step beside her.
Unconsciously, the corner of her lips ticked up.
"So. His highness?"
Just like that, her smile vanished. "What about him?"
Herb was quiet, but she knew he was observing her. "You love him."
It was not a question. It was a statement, his surprise evident in his voice.
Y/n turned her head away.
But she didn’t deny it.
"And he’s married."
"I know." She snapped, making him raise his hands in surrender.
"Calm down, I’m not trying to offend you-" A look from her, and he stopped.
Moments passed, tense, filled with harsh truths swirling between them.
"Why… Why did you not tell him? From what I know, you used to be very close."
"I don’t see how it concerns you." Y/n closed her eyes, chest constricting. She exhaled heavily. "I… he would have never loved me back."
A beat passed, then- "How do you know that?"
"Don’t you know? He was a rake. Had everyone begging for a chance to spend a night with him. He wasn’t the type to settle down, at least not so early."
"But he did."
He did. And it wasn’t with Y/n.
"He would tell me everything back then, and maybe if I hadn’t left… he probably would still have told me everything. A few days before his coronation, he told me he liked Jude. I knew then that I never did stand a chance."
"I… I’m sorry-"
"Don’t be. It isn’t your fault that the heart loves."
He was quiet after that, contemplating. This Herb as new to her. This was not the Herb who was always goofing around, pulling pranks on people in the middle of important missions.
It made her concerned, to say the least.
"Are you sure he doesn’t like you back-"
"Herb. Please."
He nodded reluctantly as the camp came into view again, guilt and sadness mixing with something Y/n did not want to recognise in his eyes.
He came to a stop in front of his tent, glancing at her and opening the flap, his eyes unmoving.
"Get in, Y/n."
She blinked at the seriousness in his tone, the way he refused to break eye contact. "I- you want me to sleep in your tent?"
He rolled his eyes, letting the flap fall. "Unless you are planning on kicking his highness out of yours, where are you going to sleep?"
"Where will you sleep?"
He shook his head. "I’m not tired. I was thinking of staying up and keeping watch for some time."
Y/n nodded, searching his eyes.
She stepped forward, and so did Herb, his back to her.
Y/n hesitated for a moment. "Herb?"
He paused, half turning to her.
"Thank you-"
"Don’t." He offered her a small smile, then walked away.
°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°
Cruel Prince Taglist: @dahliawarner @yucanbmylxdy
Cardan Greenbriar Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter
@rosecobollway @mp-littlebit @tele86 @fauxraven
@fuzzycupcakebeliever @bay7let
Taglist: @dreamsarenicer @kennedy-brooke @rosecobollway @batboygirlie
@btrxbllck @love-bookprincess
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mayullla · 1 year ago
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A little present event: fem reader 🦋 + yandere Al Haitham 🌺 🥺
Title: Learning to love
Character(s): Al Haitham (Genshin Impact) Summary: He offered a proposal, a trial of sorts to see if you and him were really a match. Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, fem!reader, soulmates au, toxic relationship, manipulation
The continuation to: The Akasha's choosing [ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]
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You bit your lip when you saw Al Haitham waiting for you outside your small humble home again seated on one of the outdoor stools. "You are awake. I thought you would sleep a little more considering how tired you were last night from getting lost in the forest."
"Thank... thank you for finding me back then..." You looked down, it was because of him that you were able to find your way back home. But it was him that you were running away from that you winded up there. You know it was much, if anyone knew that someone was trying to avoid them this much to the point they would become lost... it would hurt the person. Yet you could not help yourself.
These feelings inside yourself felt like they were twisting your stomach yet you just can't push it down.
"Hmmm. Well, you don't have to worry about that though you should really consider other ways to avoid me."
You flinched at his words, feeling your heart rate speed up as you looked away guilty.
"I notice a long time ago that you were avoiding me, heading out so early in the morning when you usually stay in bed a little more in the past." Al Haitham looked at you from his book, waiting to see if you have something to say before continuing "I am guessing you are not really fond of this idea of soulmates. That you are acting like this? Personally, I think I would be much better if you were to say outright say that you hate me rather than run away constantly like this."
"I-I don't!"
"Then why are you avoiding me?"
"I really don't... I just don't think that uhh... you and me are meant for each other." You sighed finally admitting to why you have been acting like this for a long time. "That there might be a mistake in the Akasha... I just don't think we are compatible. I am sorry... I should have told you that sooner."
You glanced at Al Haithams face wondering how he would react before looking down again in guilt. You didn't know how to bring the subject up and had avoided it for the longest time. In all honestly you were intimidated by him.
"So you are saying that the Akasha had made a mistake?" Al Haitham asked closing his book. "Are you sure? I don't think most people if any would take too kindly to what you said especially the sages." You flinched again suddenly realizing what you were implying. That the akasha that was created by the past dendro archon, which was used by everyone in Sumeru had made a mistake. You wanted to take your words back, your face flustered as you tried to think of a way to recover from the situation.
Al Haitham watching you sighed, leaning back a little as he stared right at you. "I understand having doubts. Even I wanted to see for myself whether this was just some delusion someone in the academia made yet was accepted by those sages. Those who only rely on the akasha when it is also controlled by mere men are nothing but fools who can't think for themselves."
You found his words harsh but stayed silent.
"Hmmm, how about this. We shall do a little test between us to see if we are compatible or not." You looked at Al Haitham in surprise. What did he mean by that?
Al Haitham shook his head a little a small sigh escaped his lips, raising a hand a little as he started to explain. "While I too am not particularly fond of the idea myself, how about seeing for ourselves whether we are actually compatible or not and stop playing this cat-and-mouse chase that would only lead to nowhere."
"We can do a series of tests for an extended period of time. If we don't think we are compatible we can go our separate ways and forget all this happen. But if we do, we can continue on and see where this takes us."
Your eyes looked at him in surprise, but the more you thought about it the more it made... sense. You could see for yourself if the two of you were actually compatible with each other.
Agreeing to his proposal you could not help but feel a little determined but you could not help but wonder, "But what should we do first?" Much to your embarrassment you never really dated before too focused to take care of yourself and putting food on the table.
"Hmmm just do things that couples do. We could start by *not* avoiding each other and work away from there." You flinched a little at this personal attack, unable to look at him in the eyes again.
But you did see a small smile on his lips.
The two of you started slow, Al Haitham being patient with you as you tried to be less awkward with him on your side. You guys started first by going to the forest when you needed to go there to collect herbs, mushrooms, and berries. With him mainly there to protect you from monsters or eremites and treasure hoarders. Most of the time he was reading a book a little farther than you as you go about collecting.
He tried to offer help to you a bit, but still too awkward you declined telling him that he should instead rest while you do your work. Instead, you had to promise him that you would tell him if you need his help getting something that was too far of reach or dangerous.
A lot of your lunches were spent with him. You now purposefully pack up meals meant for two people rather than one. As you seat in the grass or under a tree or maybe at home when you worked on the small farm you had you would share your meals with Al Haitham. He would eat without saying much, but you did notice he would look a little annoyed when you brought soup and later made sure not to bring them too often. (Al Haitham also offered to pack or buy lunches every so often to be fair, and when you first time you tried his cooking you could not help but be surprised. It was good!)
You didn't go out in public much with him since both of you did not want the attention of others. And when you did most of the academia students would stare in shock unable to understand that the famed scribe had a partner while others cooed at how cute of a couple you guys were.
An old granny had called the two of you cute when you were out picking groceries with Al Haitham right beside you examining the vegetables as he too needed to stock some food in his own home. You were flustered at her words, wanting to deny that you were a couple but with a glance that Al Haitham gave you, no words came out of your mouth as you tried to smile.
You thanked the grandmother for her words.
Next were small touches and kisses, your face was never this hot till when Al Haitham told you to kiss him. You were embarrassed when he started grabbing your hand or placing a hand on your shoulder but you stifled all your complaints as you told yourself this was a trial and that it was fine. But you still could not help yourself but become nervous as you stare at his face after what he said.
Al Haitham was always patient with you, and if you didn't want to do this you were sure that he would be fine with it. But seeing that he was trying, you would feel guilty if you were to say no now.
You looked at Al Haitham's face an eyebrow raised waiting before he asked if you do not want to do it. You shook your head telling him it was fine. He always reminded you that both sides needed to put in the effort, and you knew he did. So you must... it was just a small kiss really.
He waited for you, made no movements to take the lead in the kiss, and left you to do it as you took small hesitant steps toward him shyly. With Al Haitham sitting down you were forced to lean towards him as you close your eyes unable to stare to look into his face in such a close distance. You didn't see his reaction back then as you quickly kissed and then turned your back from him unable to look at him.
What was a small peck on the lips soon spiraled from there. Moving too fast you thought to yourself, as if whatever wall that you thought was there between you and him was never there from the start. But you thought that it was fine, that this was just a test to see if you were compatible. As you forced yourself to get used to the thankfully rare kisses that Al Haitham would make. But more often than not you were forced to sit on his lap or he would lie on yours as you both either nap, read a book, or finish an essay for his case.
There were some days he would stay at your place, stating that he was too "lazy" to go back home when he was tired and told you to think of this like another test. He didn't like it when you offered to sleep on the sofa scooping you and tossing you on the bed with a hand on your waist to prevent you from leaving the bed stating that this would be the most comfortable way to sleep at a single person bed, pulling you closer to him. You felt it was too intimate but didn't voice your thoughts when you heard his small snores already fallen deep asleep.
Whatever you tried to make space between you and him on the bed whenever he decided that he would stay for the night would quickly be gone as you would find him always holding you tight in his arms the moment you wake up almost like a stuffed toy that a kid liked.
You kept repeating to yourself that this was a trial if you were compatible and if things just did not work out that everything would just work out as you two separate unknown to you that Al Haitham was still awake looking down at your hair, his arms tightening around you.
To him, this was never a trial, but you were just too precious after all as he let you think as you please. He knew that you were never comfortable with his affections. But he knew you would get used to it. He would not let you go even if you didn't. You would get used to his touch, the idea of him by your side, he would make you get used to him and let him mold you to love him just as much that anxiety would drive you insane when he is not around.
He would never let you go.
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campingwiththecharmings · 8 months ago
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Never Let Me Go
AN: Fourth fic for @moonknight-events MK Bingo! So….this isn’t exactly what I’d intended it to be lol (no dialogue? No full on smut?? What’s wrong with me???) but I also kind of like how it turned out? Idk. Hopefully someone other than me enjoys this lol
Jake is feeling lonely and disconnected and you help make him feel better.
(Un-beta’d)
Rated: M+ (labeling this as M since it has cockwarming. not very smutty tho) Prompt: Cockwarming Words: 560 Pairing: Jake Lockley x GN!Reader (pretty sure this could be read as GN, please let me know if that's incorrect) Warnings: cockwarming, angst, feelings of loneliness (please let me know if i missed anything) AO3
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You’re in Jake’s lap, knees bracketing his hips, his cock buried inside you. You’re both still, his strong arms wrapped around your middle, fingers loosely fisted in the worn fabric of your sleep shirt. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, eyelids fluttering slightly as you comb your fingers gently through his curls. He inhales slowly, deeply, nuzzling your collarbone with his nose, his mustache tickling your skin. 
He’s been feeling disconnected, your Jake, lonely even. Tonight is the first night you’ve had with him in weeks. He’d let himself in about an hour ago looking tired, his movements sluggish as he’d toed off his shoes, shucked his jacket, and loosened his tie. You’d gone to him immediately, anxious to see him after such an extended absence. It’s not that he hadn’t looked happy to see you, he had—he was—he’d just looked so down, almost defeated. 
He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, whatever it was that was bothering him, and you didn’t push, knowing he’d open up when he was ready. For now, he just needed you, to be with you. He’d never ask for this though, for comfort, even though he needs it and knows you’d happily give it. He forgets, you see, forgets that he doesn’t have to handle everything on his own, forgets that his troubles are also your troubles…forgets that you chose this, chose him.
So, you remind him. Remind him that you love him (and that he is worthy of that love), that you care for him, that you are a team, that it’s okay to need people, to be vulnerable. When he finally gives into you (and he always does), you lead him to the bed and just hold him for a while, your body draped over him like a blanket. You can tell when he starts to get antsy, when his mind is racing at top speed, when he’s no longer present. You know what he needs, how to calm his mind, to bring him back to you. 
You raise yourself up on all fours, motioning for him to sit up as you slowly crawl up his body. He does what you want without argument, his eyes focused on you, intently following your every movement. When you kiss him, he sags against the headboard, keeping his arms limp at his sides as you straddle his hips. His lips are soft against yours, his tongue warm and wet as it slides against yours languidly. When you sink onto him, he breaks the kiss, his head thudding back against the wall as he sucks in a breath. You watch him for a moment, taking in the state of him—the tinge of pink on his skin, the way his dark lashes fan across his cheek as he closes his eyes, the kiss-bitten look of his mouth.
He opens his eyes after a moment, smiling softly at your attention. You smile back, the tightness you hadn’t realized was in your chest easing slightly. You shift forward, wrapping yourself around him and pulling him close. He sighs, pushing his face against your neck as he winds his arms around your torso. 
Jake forgets sometimes, what it’s like to be this close to someone, to be loved, to be cared for. He’s grateful that he has you here to remind him.
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gay-dorito-dust · 9 months ago
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Oooo I have a soft request for Jason Todd! Wondering if I could please request Jason Todd x shy!reader? Little background, Shy!reader is the adoptive daughter of Superman and she got her adopted dad all his powers, including flying when she got injured, it took a transfusion of Superman blood to save her life. Pretty cute Jason and shy!reader are looking at the stars, just fluff. https://pin.it/5MuJAnCCR
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Whenever you were stressed about anything, you would fly yourself to your hidden spot, it was a place so far removed from the public eye that it was often regarded as a restricted area, and stargaze for comfort.
At first it was a place solely for yourself as you just didn’t feel comfortable in sharing something that you had came across by yourself with another being, not without it being spread through word of mouth and then used as an place for everything that it’s not. That plus the fact that you often preferred your own company and not have to worry about seeing as rude or unsociable by others, especially whenever you didn’t feel like engaging in what they deemed as riveting conversation.
It just wasn’t your speed.
However you’ve begun to notice how easily frustrated and prone to outbursts Jason had become recently with the sudden spike in criminal activity within Gotham, In Which had Jason neglecting his sleep etiquette in favour for continuous back to back to back night patrols; something that didn’t help in the slightest either his already short temper and his impatience.
All you wanted to do in this situation was help him, and you soon came to the conclusion that by taking him to your sacred spot would relieve at least some of the stress. However the final step in making that happen was you having to ask him, which shouldn’t seem at all that hard but your mind couldn’t help but fool you into thinking the absolute worst of outcomes; and yet you knew you should at least make an attempt before believing the worst of everything.
‘Jason?’
‘What?’ He snapped and immeditly hating himself for it upon seeing you flinch at his sharp tone, taking small steps away from him until there was a response sided distance between the two of you. He didn’t mean to snap at you, never, after all you were the last person Jason would ever take his anger out on, and even then he wouldn’t ever dare do that. ‘I’m sorry chipmunk.’ He rasped, rubbing his hands into his tired eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just-‘
‘The phenomenon that is the crime rates in Gotham suddenly going up more then they have in the past week then they ever have in the past month.’ You cut him off, stepping closer to him and take one of his hands away from his eyes and holding it in your own. ‘This has forced yourself, Batman and any other active vigilante in the field to work overtime to combat it. I’m aware and you shouldn’t have to apologise for it.’ You concluded, raising his hand to your lips and kissing it several times as Jason’s hand went slack in your grasp.
‘Whatcha here for sweetheart because I know it’s just not to check up on little old me.’ Jason said and you cursed him for knowing you a little too well for your liking, but you wouldn’t want it any other way as it only reinforced your strong bond with one another.
‘I came here to see if you’d allow me to take you somewhere for a much needed change of scenery.’ You told him and Jason smiled, his tired eyes twinkled with amusement as his hand squeezed your own encouragingly. ‘Lead the way sweetheart.’ He said but soon laughed upon seeing your face as he kissed the side of your head affectionately. Not able to handle how naturally cute you were and whispered against your skin. ‘You should know by now that I’d follow you anywhere buttercup.’
‘I do and I often worry about your blind trust in me.’ You replied but a quick trip outside town and following a beaten up dirt road later, you and Jason had found yourselves within the clearing of a forest where small grounds of three or five fireflies were scattered about here and there, providing a natural light within the otherwise dark forest. You and Jason then sat yourselves down as comfortably as you could on the lush green grass and Jason was taken by how peaceful everything was, from the fireflies flying before him, the small riverbank that ran past his left hand side, to the sound of leaves being ruffled by the breeze had him feeling more relaxed than before.
Jason could easily imagine you doing the most mundane things possible in this very clearing, whether that be making flower crowns, birdwatching, or taking a quick nap beneath a nearby tree with the cat you just saved, who has now formed an attachment. And yet Jason found beauty in all these things and you, that he felt somewhat envious that he didn’t get to partake in such activities with you because he knew he couldn’t allow for crime in Gotham to rise even further in his absence. While Jason was lost within his head, he didn’t notice that a couple of fireflies land peacefully on his head, not until he heard your poor attempts to silence your laughter.
He smirks at you, loving that he got to hear the sound of your laughter. ‘What’s so funny sweetheart?’
You pointed to his head, smiling so sweetly that Jason thought he’d get cavities, you truly made this man as soft and sappy as a schoolboy with a crush and he secretly thrives on it. ‘Just that there’s a couple of fireflies taking refuge on your head.’ You tell him and Jason went to run his hand through his hair just as a small cluster of fireflies flew back up into the air, directing both of your eyes towards the endless sea of stars that hung above. ‘They’re beautiful aren’t they?’ You asked aloud and Jason took a quick glance towards you to admire just how ethereal you looked beneath the blinking lights of the fireflies and smiled dopily.
‘More than they could ever realise.’ He replied before looking back at the stars just as you went to look at him with a similar look he had given you. ‘Much a diamond in the rough, they are equally as beautiful as they are important.’ You then reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers as you watched how Jason swallowed thickly and squeezed your hand back before looking back towards the stars yourself and allowing the silence to linger between the two of you.
‘This is truly a beautiful place you’ve brought me to chipmunk.’ Jason says after a while. ‘Are you sure you wanted to share it with me?’ He adds sheepishly and a tad uncertain of himself. He didn’t understand why you’ve brought him-whom some considered a violent man- to a place as peaceful and as beautiful as yourself…weren’t you scared that he’d one day destroy it?
You smiled and rested your head on his broad shoulder, pressing a kiss there as you watched as the fireflies twinkled in tandem with the stars. ‘There’s no one else I’d rather share this spot with than Jason. You may think you’re a violent man but you’ve proven yourself to be quite an emotional man also.’ You pressed another kiss to his arm in reassurance. ‘The moment I brought you here you’ve been nothing but respectful and cautious with your movements as though you’re worried you might step on a flower.’ Jason couldn’t help but laugh at that because it was true, he over thought his every movement as though one wrong move and he’d accidentally step on something he shouldn’t have. ‘I knew I made the right decision and now you can come here whenever you like, this place is just as yours as it is mine.’ You told him.
‘I’m only coming here if it’s to stargaze with my best partner.’ Jason said as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, causing you to smile automatically. ‘I mean if that’s okay with you.’ He then adds and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how soft and sweet he was being, something he only ever was when it was just the two of you and you felt honoured in getting to see that side of him. ‘It’s more than okay with me Jaybirdie. I don’t want to stargaze on my own anymore now that you’re here.’ You admit and Jason felt relieved at this that he couldn’t help but be a little cheeky as a result.
‘Is it so that you can watch fireflies make a home out of my hair and not say anything about it?’ He asks, giving you a look. ‘Be honest.’
You shrugged your shoulders. ‘Guilty as charged.’
‘Come here you.’ Jason then lunged for you and while you put up a good fight, you were soon placed between his legs and your back was firmly pressed against his chest as his arms were latched onto your waist as to keep you in place. ‘Now this is better for the both of us, don’t you think firefly?’ He whispered into your ear as he rests his head on your shoulder to be closer to you.
‘Yes it is.’ You whispered back and for the remainder of the night you both sat there amongst the fireflies and watched the stars.
It wasn’t until later that Jason pointed out to you that you had a small cluster of fireflies yourself resting on your lap, blinking softly but didn’t say anything earlier because you looked too peaceful to be disrupted.
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Text
Time.
You get shot in Colombia. Frankie, Benny, Santiago and Will all have their own ways of helping you heal.
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Pairing - Santiago Garcia, Frankie Morales, Benny Miller, Will Miller x female reader
Age Rating - 18+
Warnings - Cursing, mentions of blood, gunshots
Word Count - 4329
Author's Note - hi lovely people. i loved writing this one so much oh my :( those four boys in one movie together is a dream. and i don't know if you noticed, but i have a real soft spot for will. and yes, i did photoshop ben afflecks character out of that picture. more than happy to write for any of the triple frontier boys individually - just send me an ask! as always, lots of love x
my other triple frontier fics - Tethered, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.
Masterlist. Requests.
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It’s been 6 days since you were shot.
6 days of blood, pain, sterility, stitches, hazy memories that float into your consciousness like smoke in the air.
You somehow remember it both clear as day and blurry as night.
The metallic taste of copper in your mouth, clear as day.
The searing, burning pain in your side, clear as day.
The panicked looks on the boys faces, the yelling, the frantic scrambling – clear as day.
The rest of it? Blurry as night.
You can’t remember getting home. One minute you were bleeding out on the ground in Colombia, and the next minute you’re back on US soil, lying in a bed in Houston Methodist Hospital.
You can’t remember your discharge. You fell asleep on those sterile, crinkly white sheets, and woke up in a soft bed, wrapped in a navy blue comforter that smells like Will.
All you’ve known for the last 6 days is sleep. That molten sleep that moves like molasses, warm and slow and sticky. The sun rises and sets, and you’re none the wiser. Floating aimlessly through unconsciousness, just you and your dreams.
Unbeknownst to you, you haven’t been alone for a minute since you got home. The boys have taken turns sitting by your bedside, heart rates rising whenever you stir. All of them silently processing what all of this means, for you and for them.
It was damn close. Too much blood. Pints after pints after pints of it. Pouring over Will’s hands, soaking into Benny’s jeans, slipping beneath Santiago’s boots, choking the air around Frankie where his forehead was pressed to yours, begging you to stay awake. All of them wondering the same thing – where has all of this come from? Surely one person can’t have so much blood in them. It can’t all be from her.
The Doctor said that you got lucky. Any more blood loss and you’d have lost your life too. Your surgeon said that you owed your life to whoever stopped the bleeding.
William ‘Ironhead’ Miller. He’d shoved his hand straight into the wound, applying as much pressure as he could without breaking any ribs. It was the worst thing he’d ever seen, but he was in fight or flight mode. He knew it had to be fight. He hoped you were making the same choice as you were lying there, breath rattling in your chest like pennies in a tin can.
Some would call it a miracle. Divine intervention, perhaps. You shouldn’t have survived. Scientifically, statistically, you should have died right there on that floor, in a mission gone wrong. Tragic accident. Caught in the crossfire. Collateral damage.
But you didn’t. Now, you’re half conscious in Will’s guest bedroom, enveloped by his scent. Warm, cozy, safe, and alive. You’re struggling to stay awake for more than ten, fifteen minutes at a time. It’s all catching up to you. You had to fight so hard to take each breath, that now you’re exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that sleep can’t fix. No, it’s settled into your gut, wrapped it’s limbs around your bones. It keeps you weighed down and heavy, a reminder of the trauma. You’re alive, but you’re tired. So tired.
The boys are worried. Worried beyond belief. When the Doctor told them she was happy to discharge you, reality hit the four of them like a high-speed freight train. How do they navigate this? You can’t go home. You can’t be by yourself. They’re all back on Texan soil, which means work, and family, and bills to pay, and routines to carry out. How do they factor in the woman they call their best friend, who’s currently in the deepest sleep of her life with a healing bullet hole in her side?
“I’ll take her,” Will had said. “She can stay with me, in my guest room. You guys can come over whenever you want. I have the most space, anyway.”
That was true. Santiago and Benny live in apartments, bachelor pads really, and Frankie’s second bedroom is his daughter’s room. She was only with him on weekends, but she needed a place to sleep, so that was him out of the question. Having you stay with Will made the most sense. They all agreed to come and sit with you in shifts, so Will could go to the grocery store, or for a run, or to take a shower. The Doctor never actually said that you needed twenty four hour surveillance, but the boys thought it would be best. Just in case.
So that’s exactly what they did. You’re on bed rest, and they’re all happy to play nurse for a few hours during the day, and to leave you with Will during the night. He’s been sneaking in to sleep in the armchair next to your bed. His room, a mere ten feet away, feels too far. He wants to be able to hear if you need his help. Just in case.
None of the boys quite know how to treat you. They don’t want to act any differently around you, but it’s hard not to. They haven’t seen you like that before. You, a force to be reckoned with. The backbone of the group. You, with your sharp wit, quick humor, blinding smile. You, who always seems to be a step ahead of them. You, a pillar of strength, proving yourself just as capable in this world designed for men. Lying on the ground, painted crimson, you looked fragile. Small. Frail. You looked so… innocent. So afraid. That was the scariest part for all of them – seeing the fear in your eyes. They’ve never seen that before. They never want to again.
So, they all take their different approaches. They cope the best way that each of them knows how.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
When Frankie visits, he always brings a book.
Cracking open the door, he pops his head around the frame, smiling as he sees both you and Will asleep – him in the chair, you cozy in bed. He gently squeezes the blond man’s shoulder, whispering as he wakes.
“I got her for a while. You go do what you need to do.”
Will shoots him a grateful smile and stretches his arms above his head, before padding out of the room, softly shutting the door behind him.
Frankie opens the curtains, letting the soft morning light fill the room. It illuminates your face, catches on the strands of your hair, making it glow. You look like an angel, in this orange haze. But Frankie already knew that.
Your eyes flutter open, and land straight on the broad man standing next to your bed, trusty cap sat atop his head. You smile, and his heart stops for a second. God, he’s missed that sight. All of the tension from the last week leaves his shoulders, and he sinks into the armchair next to you.
“Hi, Francisco,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse from minimal use.
“Hi, cariño,” he whispers back. “You doing okay?”
You nod, golden smile still etched on your face. The wound in your side is a dull ache, and the psychological pain keeps washing over you in spontaneous waves. But you’re okay.
“You here to babysit me?” you tease.
He smirks, which is all the answer you needed.
“You don’t need to. I’m okay, I swear,” you insist.
He looks at you and quirks an eyebrow, the corners of his lips still turning up slightly.
“Well, you’re my baby, and I’m sitting,” he winks. “Now that we’ve established that, what do you wanna do for the next few hours?”
His abysmal attempt at a joke makes you chuckle, which in turn makes you wince, pain shooting through your abdomen. He jumps out of his chair towards you, placing a hand on your cheek gently.
“Shit, querida. I’m sorry. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”
Breathing deep and slow, you tilt your head to meet his eyes.
“Yes. For you to stop fussing. Sit down, Francisco. Your nervous energy is making me stressed.”
He exhales carefully, and presses a kiss onto the top of your head.
“Yes ma’am.”
He returns to his original place, and grabs a book from the nightstand.
“Have you read this already?” he asks, showing you the cover.
You shake your head, and he flips to the first page.
“It sounds good, actually. You comfy, cielito?”
You nod gently, holding his gaze. He flashes you one of his signature smiles – the rare, genuine, time stopping ones – and begins to read softly, in that dulcet, honeyed voice of his.
He reads to you for hours. You were only awake for 45 minutes, but he continued reading aloud anyway. Morning becomes afternoon, yellow sunlight beating through the open window. A gentle breeze blows the curtains and ruffles Frankie’s hair that is ever so slightly too long for his liking. He’d be perfectly content to read to you like this forever. He’s gotten so into the plot of the book that he doesn’t notice Will stood in the doorframe, watching with those careful eyes of his. They gleam blue in the sunlight, his golden hair glinting like citrine. He eventually catches Frankie’s eyes, and the older man makes his way over to the door, both boys talking in hushed whispers so as not to wake you.
“Has she been okay?” Will asks, eyes scanning your sleeping form.
“Perfectly fine. She was awake for about 45 minutes,” Frankie replies, pride evident in his tone.
“That’s the longest she’s been conscious since. Progress, huh?” Will smiles. Frankie can’t help but smile too. A week ago, they were huddled around your lifeless body, hands deep and bloody in your wound. Now, they’re watching you slumber peacefully, life returned to you like a gift from the universe.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
When Benny visits, he brings comfort with him.
He uses his key to let himself into Will’s house quietly, aware that you’re most likely asleep. It’s been a week and a half since everything happened, and while you’re awake more and more each day, you’re also still on bed rest.
Creeping up the stairs and peeking his head around the door that’s ajar, he finds Will sat at the end of your bed. You’re awake, but barely. The light shines from the hallway into the bedroom, and illuminates your tear stained cheeks.
Will wipes your cheekbone with his thumb gently, and moves to meet his brother. The older Miller pulls Benny into the hallway, shutting your door momentarily.
“She’s having a real bad day. The worst since she’s been home. The memories are flooding back man, they’re drowning her.”
All the colour is gone from Will’s face. He looks helpless. His brother hates it.
“I don’t know how to help her,” Will continues. “The tears won’t stop. It’s like every time she calms down, another nightmare takes her by surprise. I don’t know what to do, Ben. I don’t know what to do.”
Will’s voice is shaking, tears threatening to spill from those cerulean eyes. He has a hand fisted into the front of Benny’s shirt, as if he’s grounding himself. There’s something unsettling about seeing the calmest person in the room start panicking. Benny doesn’t like it.
“Hey, it’s okay. She’s gonna have bad days, that’s a given. Go get some fresh air, go for a drive or something. I’ve got her. I ain’t gonna leave her.”
Benny looks pointedly at his big brother, and inhales deeply. They exhale together, and Will wipes his face with the back of his hand.
“Are you sure?”
Benny nods. Will trusts him.
“Okay. Call me if you need anything and I will come straight back. I mean it, Ben. Anything.”
Benny pulls his brother into his chest, holding him for a moment. Will isn’t used to being the glue holding everything together, he thinks. It’s usually you.
Will pulls away and starts his journey down the stairs, momentarily pausing to watch Benny straighten his shoulders and clear his throat before opening your door carefully.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he smiles.
You don’t feel gorgeous. No, you feel like you’ve shattered into a million pieces in William Miller’s guest bedroom. The weight of your trauma has come crashing down on top of you suddenly. It’s suffocating and it’s choking you and no matter how many times you inhale, your lungs won’t fill with air. Tears keep streaking down your cheeks despite your best efforts to stifle them. You wonder if you’ll feel like this forever – forced to carry around the weight of surviving something that you weren’t supposed to.
Benny’s never been any good with words. So he tells you what he needs to with his actions instead.
He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, throwing it on the chair. Then, he unbuttons his jeans and slides them off his legs, tossing them sideways with haphazard aim. The last thing to go is his t shirt, which he shucks over his head with ease, landing somewhere with the rest of his clothes. He moves across the room towards you and pulls back the comforter. He strokes your cheek with his knuckles gently, looking at you carefully to gauge your reaction. When he’s satisfied, he climbs into bed behind you, pulling you mindfully to sit in between his legs, his chest pressed to your back. He pulls the comforter back up over the two of you, and uses his arms to cage you in to him, enveloping you in his warmth.
Benny’s always run hot. You joke that he’s like a walking space heater, a radiator if you ever need one. Right now, it’s like having your own ball of sunshine, warming you gently from the outside in. You feel the safest you have in two weeks.
“Relax, baby,” he murmurs into your hair. He pulls you in tighter, and nudges your head to rest in the crook of his neck. You inhale deeply – the first real breath you’ve been able to take all day. He smells like sunshine, and salt, and sandalwood, and safety. You relax into him and let all the tension leave your body. You let go of the flashbacks, and the fear, and the chaos, and surrender yourself to Benny.
He stays with you like that for three days. He doesn’t separate himself from you more than a few inches for 72 whole hours, keeping his arms wrapped around you from behind, as if holding you together. When he gets up to go to the bathroom, he takes you with him. You stay attached for three days, skin to skin, allowing his warmth to seep into your bones, to settle your nerves. You’re convinced that no medicine could heal you the way Benny is. Science doesn’t have a match for this. It never will.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
When Santiago visits, he brings his guitar.
The first time he came to see you, right at the beginning, he sat with you for 20 minutes before he careened out of the room, gasping for air. The silence was strangling him, sending him into some sort of panic attack. Then, the guilt settled, and he felt like he’d betrayed you so badly that he couldn’t bring himself to go back in. He sat on the floor of the hallway with his back pressed against the door for 6 hours before Will returned home, concern coursing through his veins.
When Santiago explained what had happened, Will looked at him knowingly.
“You don’t have to be deathly silent, you know. You can watch some TV, turn the radio on. Frankie reads to her. Benny talks her ear off - doesn’t stop fucking rambling. I walked in the other day and he was explaining the current state of the NBA to her, team by team. She’ll sleep no matter what.”
Santiago nods, patting Will on the back lovingly before leaving, weighed down by shame.
The next time he visits, he brings his guitar.
If he’s honest with himself, he’s hoping you’ll be asleep. It’s easier to play for you if you aren’t looking at him like he hung the moon with those big, bright eyes of yours. But, lo and behold, he walks into the room you’ve made your own, and you’re wide awake.
“Hi, handsome,” you smile. “Where you been?”
“Oh, you know,” he smirks, “just caring for all the pretty girls that need my help.”
“And here I thought I was special,” you tease.
That smile of yours wraps itself around his heart, tangling in the core of him. You’ve always had that effect on the boys. One grin from you, and all of their problems melt away, even if just for a moment.
“You staying today, or you gonna run away again?”
You’re joking with him. Why are you trying to make him laugh? You should be upset, telling him that he’s a bad friend, that all of the other boys have sat with you for hours, so why can’t he?
But instead, you continue.
“I’m kidding, Santi. I get it, you know. I don’t think I’d be able to sit in a room with you lying there all half dead and helpless if the roles were reversed.”
You’re looking at him with so much understanding in your eyes that he has to choke down the tears that are trying to escape from him.
“It’s not that. It’s just – it’s my fault, bebita. You wouldn’t have even been in Colombia if it wasn’t for me. I’m the reason you got shot.”
He’s crying now – heavy, ugly sobs crawling their way from his chest, up to his throat. His knees give out, and he sits on the side of the bed, hands fisting in your comforter.
“Santi, baby. Hey. Look at me. Please, Pope.”
Your pleading gets his attention. He looks at you with those red rimmed, watery eyes, and your heart breaks so hard you swear you can hear it shatter.
“It wasn’t your fault, Santi. I followed you out there voluntarily. We all did. You know I’d follow you anywhere. I still would. It could have been any of us that got hurt. I’m glad it was me. I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing any of you in a hospital bed. It’d break me.”
You’re crying now too, at the thought of one of the boys in your situation. The bullets, the blood, the makeshift bandages they shoved into your side, ripping their shirts and tearing apart anything they could find. You couldn’t have survived that, if the roles were reversed. You wouldn’t have wanted to.
You press your forehead to his, hands tangling in the front of his shirt. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, needing you as close as possible.
You fall asleep like that, face pressed into him, his heartbeat in your ear. Santiago tucks you back into bed gently and takes his place in the armchair, settling down. Pulling his guitar out of the case, he tunes it slowly, meticulously, before beginning to strum the strings carefully. He picks at the strings, playing you tune after tune, only stopping to stretch his arms and crack his knuckles. He plays for you for hours, time slipping by him like sand through his palms. When you wake, you keep your eyes closed, savouring his presence for just a moment longer.
✵  ✵    ·  ✵    *  · ✵
Will doesn’t visit.
He sticks steadily by your side, day in, day out. If Frankie visits for 6 hours, Will sits with you for the other 18. When Benny holds you for 3 days, Will gets anxious, popping his head around the doorframe every few hours, checking in just in case. Since everything happened, Will’s whole universe has revolved around you. Which, he’s realising, is the way it’s always been. His whole world has always been you. He’s just been forced to confront that truth now, and it’s scaring him.
He’s suddenly aware of the fact that he almost lost you. He’s never felt fear like that before. He’s had men press guns to his temple, shoot at him from mere feet away, fight him with their fists. That’s nothing, now. He’d take that any day over watching you lie there, drenched in crimson, dripping with pain. His hands, twisted into your side, wet and slipping, trying to quell the dam that’s broken inside of you. Your eyes, looking into his, terror grasping your whole body like a cold chill. When he falls asleep at night, all he can hear is the way you said his name, like it was the last thing tethering you to the Earth.
He makes a silent vow to himself. A promise - to never let you go again. To protect you forever, no matter what. All of this trauma has just made him love you more. He’s not sure what the future will look like, for him, or for you. But he knows that right now, you need him.
And so he pours all of his love into his actions. He makes you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and sits with you as you eat slowly. He eats at your speed, too - always doing everything at your pace. He combs your hair every morning gently, brushes your teeth twice a day carefully. He tucks you in when you fall asleep, pulling the comforter around you, keeping you safe and warm. As soon as one of the other boys leaves, he takes their place, sitting in the armchair – making sure you’re never alone. Whenever you’re awake, he listens to you pointedly, nodding and smiling. When you have a bad day, he’s right there next to you, wiping the tears from your cheeks and murmuring reassurances gently.
He watches as slowly but surely, you come back to yourself. You’re awake more often, smiling more confidently, cracking jokes and asking for laughs. The two of you are chatting like you used to, about nothing and everything. And you watch as slowly but surely, he returns to Will. The frown lines in his forehead become less pronounced, the worry in his eyes fades slightly. The smiles he throws your way are bigger, more genuine. The scales balance out again.
You’ve been in bed for two weeks when you decide to ask him for a favor.
“Hey, Will?” you query, looking at the blond man who’s currently folding laundry on the dresser.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” he replies instantly, ready to give you anything you could possibly ask for.
“Can we go outside? I think I might go insane in this room real soon,” you smile, bright and bold.
He beams at you, relief washing over him like an ocean wave. You haven’t left your bed for a fortnight. He’s offered a couple of times, but you refused, scared to leave the comfort of the safe haven you’ve created. But you’re ready now.
“Of course we can. You want me to carry you?”
His tone is light, jesting, but you know he’s being serious. Neither of you are actually sure if you can walk all the way outside.
“I can walk if you carry me down the stairs? Not sure I’m quite ready for those yet.”
He grins at you, and your heart stops. That smile of his seeps into your pores, lifts you up, sends energy flowing through your veins. You’re alive, and you’re okay, and Will Miller is looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. You feel invincible.
Admittedly, it does take you 20 minutes to get from your room to the back patio. Will throws a strong arm beneath yours, holding you up as you take the journey step by step. When you reach the stairs, he picks you up bridal style, carrying you carefully. Before he sets you back on your feet, he nudges his nose to yours, still grinning.
The sun soaks into your skin outside, gentle breeze rippling your t shirt that you’re now realising is Benny’s. The leaves rustle in the trees, and you inhale the world, as if seeing it again for the first time. Will sits right next to you on the bench, hand holding yours tightly, fingers interlaced as if he’s worried you’ll blow away.
You glance at Will’s watch and see that it’s only 1pm. You have so much time left. So many possibilities to be fulfilled, so many people to love, so many places to see. But for now, you press yourself into the blond man’s side, settling in. You fit perfectly. Almost as if this is where you belong.
“Can’t believe I almost died without telling you I love you,” you murmur. It’s quiet, but he hears you, loud and clear.
“It’s okay,” he reassures. “You’re here now. We have time. So much time.”
“Forever,” you whisper. “We have forever.”
He turns to look at you in the hues of the bright afternoon. His blond hair is glowing gold, and his blue eyes match the sky, hopeful and full of promise. His hands come up to cradle your face, and he caresses your cheeks with his thumbs, rubbing comforting circles into your skin. He moves in closer, and nudges his nose into yours. He breaks out into a grin, and you can’t help but join him. Leaning in, he presses his lips to yours, soft and reassuring. You melt into him, running one hand into his hair, the other at the nape of his neck. He pulls you impossibly closer, until every part of you is pressed together. The sun is still beaming, and the birds are chirping, and you have time.
“Forever,” he whispers into your mouth when he breaks the kiss.
“Forever,” you murmur back. “We have time.”
You have time.
You have time.
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f14fun · 26 days ago
Text
lay all your love on me - op81 (C6)
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synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance
prose (8.8K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆
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06: O-live-You And Other Things That Could've Been Said
The moment we stepped outside, the heat hit us like a solid wall. The sun was already high in the sky, radiating a fierce, unrelenting intensity that made the air shimmer like a mirage. It felt like stepping into an oven, the kind where the heat clings to your skin and settles in your bones, refusing to let go. The cobblestones beneath our feet were warm to the touch, and the faint breeze that occasionally swept by offered little relief, more like a faint exhale of hot air than anything truly cooling.
Mae immediately fanned herself with her hand, squinting against the harsh glare of the sun. “Oh my god, it’s not even ten yet and I’m already melting. I swear, this island is trying to roast us alive.”
Edie tugged at the collar of her tank top, flapping it to get some air. “I don’t know how people live like this. I can feel my makeup sliding off my face. At this rate, I’m going to look like a Picasso painting by noon.”
Hattie pulled her hair into a messy bun, beads of sweat already forming at her temples. “We’re officially in a sauna. A beautiful, picturesque sauna that’s actively trying to kill us with heatstroke.”
Oscar wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his shirt clinging to his back. “You guys are such drama queens,” he said, though his own forehead was glistening with sweat. “It’s not that bad. Just… extremely, painfully hot.”
Mae shot him an incredulous look, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Not that bad? I can practically see the soles of my shoes melting into the pavement. If I pass out, just drag me to the nearest air-conditioned place and leave me there.”
Oscar chuckled, glancing over at me. “You holding up okay, or should we start taking bets on who drops first?”
I fanned myself with my hand, feeling the heat radiate off the ground in waves. “I’m fine, but I might have to invest in one of those little handheld fans soon. Or, you know, a personal ice bath.”
Oscar shot me a mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling despite the beads of sweat gathering at his temples. “An ice bath, huh? That’s my kind of recovery. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve when it comes to cooling down after a race. Maybe I could show you how it’s done—F1 style.”
I rolled my eyes, but the smile on my face was impossible to hide. “Oh, so what, we’re going to do some pit stops for hydration and tire changes along the way too?”
Oscar laughed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Only if you’re up for it. I can be your personal pit crew. We’ll keep it professional, of course… until we get to the ice bath part.”
Mae groaned loudly, rolling her eyes as she overheard. “Please, Oscar. Save the flirting for after I’ve downed a liter of water and found some shade. We’re all dying here, and you’re still trying to turn this into a date.”
Oscar just shrugged, unbothered, and shot me a wink. “What can I say? I’m dedicated to the full experience. And hey, if it involves ice baths and a little friendly competition, I’m all in.”
I nudged him playfully, feeling a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the weather. “Well, if you can handle the heat on the track, I’m sure you can handle a little morning market stroll. But I’m holding you to that ice bath promise—I might just need it after this.”
Oscar smirked, leaning in closer. “You got it. I’ll even make sure it’s got all the F1 essentials—like speed, precision, and just enough flirtation to keep things interesting.”
His teasing sent a shiver down my spine despite the scorching heat, and for a moment, I almost forgot about the sun beating down on us. But then another wave of hot air hit, reminding us all just how relentless the day was going to be.
Hattie, overhearing our exchange, fanned herself dramatically and shook her head. “Alright, you two, keep it cool… literally. We’re about five minutes away from turning into human puddles, and I’m not prepared to deal with that kind of meltdown.”
We all laughed, the tension easing as we continued down the path, our steps a little lighter despite the oppressive heat. And as Oscar’s playful banter echoed in my ears, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, a little F1-style cool-down wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Edie let out a groan, shielding her eyes with her hand. “At this point, I’d settle for a bucket of ice water to the face. I don’t care about looking cute; I just want to survive.”
As we trudged along, the heat wrapped around us like a heavy blanket, every breath feeling thick and labored. The chatter continued, but now it was peppered with complaints and exaggerated groans, each of us trying to find some humor in the absurdity of the oppressive sun. The market couldn’t come soon enough, and as we walked, we silently vowed to find the nearest shade—or, even better, a cold drink—before any of us truly combusted under the relentless summer blaze.
Oscar fell into step beside me, close enough that our arms brushed as we walked. “Bet you five euros Mae buys something completely useless within the first ten minutes.”
I grinned, nudging him lightly with my shoulder. “I’ll take that bet. But I think it’s going to be Edie who cracks first. She’s got that look in her eye—like she’s on a mission to buy something she doesn’t need.”
Oscar laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re on. This might be the easiest money I’ve ever made.”
We continued down the winding path, the sun already blazing above us and making every surface shimmer with heat. The air was so thick and warm, it felt like walking through a giant hairdryer, and every step seemed to bring a fresh wave of stickiness that clung to our skin. The occasional shade from an overhanging tree felt like a blessed oasis, but those moments were fleeting, and soon we were back in the relentless glare.
Mae groaned dramatically, pulling her hair up into a messy bun as she fanned her neck with her hand. “I swear, this is how people end up in documentaries about survival. If I faint, just drag me to the nearest gelato stand.”
Edie, already looking flushed and slightly disheveled, tugged at her tank top. “Forget gelato; I’m about two minutes away from dunking my head in the nearest fountain. I can’t believe people live like this.”
Hattie chimed in, her voice laced with mock despair. “I feel like I’m being slow-cooked. If this is a test of endurance, I’m failing spectacularly. Someone tell me why we thought coming out in this heat was a good idea?”
Oscar glanced at me, his smile wicked. “Don’t worry, everyone. I’ve got it all under control. We’ll get to the market, find some shade, and then maybe I’ll set up an ice bath demo right there in the middle of the square. I’m sure it’ll be the highlight of everyone’s day.”
I laughed, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. “Oh yeah, nothing says local culture like a makeshift ice bath. You’ll have an audience in no time, and I’m pretty sure they’d crown you the king of market day.”
Oscar flashed me a grin, his hand brushing mine as we walked. “As long as you’re there to cheer me on, I’m ready to make it happen. We can call it ‘Beat the Heat: The Oscar Edition.’”
Mae, overhearing us, rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “I’m not paying to see that, but I’ll definitely take a video. It’s going viral, for sure.”
Oscar shot her a mock glare. “Only if you promise to catch my good side. And for the record, I’m pretty sure this ice bath idea is going to save lives today.”
Edie snorted, already scanning the stalls in the distance as the market came into view. “Oscar, you’re not saving lives. You’re just trying to impress your new audience,” she teased, giving him a playful nudge. “But hey, if it gets us a cold drink faster, I’m all for it.”
The market was a sensory overload in the best possible way—vibrant stalls overflowing with fresh fruits, handmade trinkets, and colorful textiles flapping in the light breeze. The mingling aromas of spices, fresh bread, and grilling meats filled the air, and every few steps, a vendor would call out to us, trying to lure us in with their wares. The place was alive with people—locals haggling with vendors, tourists snapping photos, and children darting between stalls with sticky fingers and delighted grins.
Oscar and I wandered through the aisles, pausing occasionally to admire a particularly colorful display of woven baskets or to sample a piece of sweet, juicy melon that a vendor insisted we try. It was a chaotic, joyful atmosphere, and despite the heat, I found myself genuinely enjoying the experience.
That is, until we reached a stall filled with every kind of olive you could imagine. From glossy black olives marinated in herbs to bright green ones stuffed with garlic, the selection was endless. Oscar, with his usual mischievous glint, picked up a toothpick and speared an olive, holding it out to me.
“Come on, try this one. I promise, it’s the best thing you’ll ever taste,” he said, his voice dripping with the confidence of someone who’d already decided the outcome.
I eyed the olive suspiciously, but the look on his face was so hopeful and endearing that I couldn’t refuse. I took the olive, popped it into my mouth, and almost immediately regretted my decision. The taste hit me like a freight train—intensely salty, bitter, and pungent, with a weirdly spicy kick that felt like it was attacking my taste buds from all sides.
I gagged, trying desperately to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was no use. My eyes watered, and I felt the immediate, burning need to spit it out. But before I could, I accidentally inhaled, choking on the olive’s briny juice in the most unattractive way possible. I doubled over, coughing and sputtering, as the taste continued to assault my senses.
Oscar, realizing what had happened, tried to help by patting me on the back, but his well-meaning thumps only made things worse. I stumbled forward, knocking into a rack of precariously balanced jars filled with pickled vegetables. The entire display wobbled ominously before tipping over with a loud crash, sending jars shattering to the ground and splattering their contents all over my sandals.
“Bloody fuck!” Oscar yelped, jumping back as brine and pickled peppers splashed up around us. He reached out, grabbing my arm to steady me, but we were both already slipping in the mess.
I finally managed to spit out the offending olive, doubling over in laughter as I wiped tears from my eyes. “Oh my god, that was—what the hell was in that olive? I think I just tasted hell!”
Oscar, trying to suppress his own laughter, looked down at the mess we’d made. “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t think it would be that bad! You looked like you were being possessed by some ancient demon.”
“Note to self,” I managed between gasps, “never, ever take an olive recommendation from you again.”
Oscar grinned sheepishly, still holding onto my arm to keep us both from slipping. “Deal. But hey, at least it’s a market memory we won’t forget anytime soon.”
We worked together to gather the scattered jars, our hands brushing occasionally, sending small electric jolts through my already flustered system. The vendor, a grumpy old man with a thick mustache and a fierce scowl, continued muttering under his breath, clearly unimpressed with our attempts to make amends. I offered him a sheepish smile, trying not to slip on the brine-soaked pavement, while Oscar dug into his wallet, pulling out a few euros to cover the damage.
As we finished up, Oscar turned to me with that infuriatingly charming grin of his. “Well, that’s one way to make an impression. I’d say we’re officially banned from the olive section.”
I laughed, wiping my hands on my dress, which was now speckled with flecks of pickling spices. “At this rate, we’re going to get banned from the whole market. I mean, who knew olives could be so dangerous?”
Oscar raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Dangerous? I’d say they were just misunderstood. But hey, if you want to blame me for this epic disaster, I’ll take the fall.” He struck a dramatic pose, hand over his heart, like a martyr taking the blame for a noble cause. “I, Oscar from Australia, solemnly swear to never force-feed you another olive as long as we both shall live.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress my grin. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re apologizing. Otherwise, I’d still be gagging over that monstrosity you made me eat.”
He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a mock whisper. “Lucky? I think you’re just softening up to me, olive incident and all.”
I pushed him lightly, but the warmth in his gaze didn’t falter, and I found myself caught in the easy rhythm of his teasing. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head. But you’re definitely going to owe me an ice cream after this.”
Oscar smirked, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Ice cream? Please, we’re in Greece. You mean gelato,” he corrected, his voice dripping with playful mockery. He stepped closer, his tone teasing but his proximity making my heart skip a beat. “And trust me, I know the best place. Only the finest for my olive-battle buddy.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “Alright, Mr. Gelato Expert. Lead the way.”
A few minutes later, we were standing at a small gelato stand, the sweet, creamy scent wafting through the air, instantly making me forget the earlier chaos. Oscar handed me a scoop of hazelnut gelato, then grabbed his own, a vibrant pistachio. As he took a triumphant bite, a dollop of green gelato smeared right onto his nose, turning the flirty moment into an adorably ridiculous one.
I stifled a laugh, trying to keep my composure as he continued to talk, completely unaware of the green splotch on his face. “See? This is real dessert. None of that commercialized stuff—”
I burst out laughing, and he paused, eyebrows raised. “What?”
“Uh, you’ve got a little… something,” I said, pointing to my own nose as a hint.
He tried to swipe at it but missed, smearing it even more. “This?”
I shook my head, biting my lip to keep from laughing too hard. “Here, let me.” Without thinking, I reached up, my fingers gently brushing his nose as I wiped away the sticky gelato. The touch was brief, but it was enough to make my pulse quicken.
Our eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like the busy market around us had faded away, leaving just the two of us in a little bubble of shared laughter and unspoken tension. Oscar’s gaze softened, the playful glint giving way to something deeper as he leaned in slightly, our faces close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off his skin.
“You know,” he murmured, his voice low, “I think I’m going to have to spill gelato on myself more often if it gets you this close.”
I laughed softly, still feeling the tingling of where his nose had brushed against my fingertips. “You’re ridiculous,” I said, but there was no hiding the smile on my face. “But if that’s your plan, maybe try keeping it on your gelato next time.”
Oscar chuckled, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief as he leaned in just a little closer, closing the already narrow gap between us. “Can’t make any promises,” he said, his voice dipping into that teasingly low, flirtatious tone that sent a familiar thrill coursing through me. “Besides, I’m not sure gelato is half as fun without a little mess.”
I rolled my eyes, but the warmth spreading through my chest made it impossible to hide the grin tugging at my lips. “I’m starting to think you do it on purpose,” I said, trying to sound exasperated but failing miserably as Oscar’s thumb grazed a stray bit of gelato from the corner of my mouth, his touch lingering just a beat longer than necessary.
He shrugged, still impossibly close, his grin broadening. “What can I say? Keeps things interesting.” His voice softened, and for a brief moment, his gaze flickered to my lips before meeting my eyes again, his expression a mix of playfulness and something deeper that made my heart skip. “But I have to admit, I’ve got pretty good taste.”
I felt my cheeks flush under his steady gaze, the space between us charged with an almost tangible electricity. The casualness of his words belied the underlying tension simmering just beneath the surface, each flirty remark and lingering touch a dare to step closer, to push the boundaries just a little more.
“Yeah?” I challenged, tilting my head slightly, unable to resist the pull of the moment. “Well, just so you know, you’re not the only one with good taste.”
Oscar's eyes darkened with a mix of intrigue and something more playful, his smile never wavering as he scooted closer, his thigh brushing against mine on the impossibly narrow bench. The space between us was almost nonexistent now, our legs tangled in a way that felt intimate, unspoken, and thrillingly reckless. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the brush of his arm against mine sending little jolts of electricity through me.
“Oh, I’m well aware,” he said, his voice low and edged with that teasing drawl that made my pulse quicken. He leaned in closer, so close that I could feel his breath, warm and sweet, grazing my cheek. “But I think I like hearing you admit it.”
The proximity, the way his eyes held mine without flinching, had my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I tried to play it cool, but the intensity of his gaze, the closeness of his body, made every breath feel charged with possibility.
“You’re really pushing your luck,” I said, my voice coming out softer than I intended, almost breathless. His knee nudged mine, a playful, subtle reminder of how little space was left between us.
Oscar smirked, scooting even closer, his leg pressing against mine with a deliberate pressure that sent my nerves into overdrive. “Maybe,” he whispered, his lips barely an inch away from my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “But something tells me you’re not exactly complaining.”
The words hung between us, laced with a flirty challenge that dared me to push back, to match his game. I tried to muster a witty comeback, but all I could focus on was the feel of his thigh against mine, his shoulder brushing my arm, the intoxicating closeness that made the world around us blur.
“Bold assumption,” I managed to say, but my voice wavered, betraying the flutter of excitement thrumming beneath my calm facade. “What makes you think you’re so irresistible?”
Oscar grinned, his confidence unwavering as he leaned in, closing the gap until his lips were just a breath away from mine, close enough that I could feel the heat of his smile. “Call it a hunch,” he murmured, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. “Or maybe it’s just that look you give me every time I get this close.”
My breath hitched, and I found myself leaning in without meaning to, drawn to the warmth of his presence, the challenge in his eyes. His teasing was relentless, but it was the way he looked at me—like this was all just foreplay for something much bigger—that left me breathless, my heart racing as if daring me to make the next move.
“You’re trouble, you know that?” I said, my voice a shaky whisper, half accusation, half something else entirely.
Oscar’s grin widened, his thumb brushing my wrist in a touch so light it sent a ripple of warmth through my whole body. “And you love it,” he said simply, the certainty in his voice leaving no room for doubt. And maybe, just maybe, he was right.
My heart pounded in my chest, the air between us thick with unspoken tension, and for a split second, I thought he might kiss me. But just as the moment reached its peak, a loud honk blasted through the air, startling us both.
We jerked apart, whipping our heads around to see a vendor on a tiny motorbike, zigzagging through the crowded market with a basket of fresh bread strapped precariously to the back. He shouted something in Greek that I couldn’t quite catch, but the tone made it clear—get out of the way or risk getting run over by a man determined to deliver his breakfast goods.
Oscar laughed, breaking the spell as he scooted back just enough to avoid a collision. “Well, that’s one way to ruin the mood,” he said, still chuckling as he raked a hand through his hair, his confidence momentarily deflated by the absurdity of the scene.
I couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the tension between us dissolving into sheer ridiculousness. “Guess the universe decided you needed to cool it,” I teased, nudging him lightly with my shoulder. “Pretty sure you just got cockblocked by a bread guy.”
Oscar held up his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright. I get it. Even the universe thinks I’m too much to handle.” He leaned back against the bench, shaking his head as he watched the motorbike weave away into the crowd. “Who knew my biggest competition would be a guy delivering carbs?”
I snorted, trying to stifle my laughter. “Hey, everyone’s gotta eat. Maybe take it as a sign to slow your roll.”
Before Oscar could respond with another flirty comeback, the sound of hurried footsteps approached, followed by a burst of laughter. Suddenly, Mae leaped onto Oscar’s back, her arms flailing as she yelled, “Revenge is sweet!” Oscar staggered forward, caught completely off guard, and nearly dropped his gelato.
“What the—Mae!” Oscar exclaimed, half-laughing, half-groaning as he tried to regain his balance. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Mae grinned wickedly, clinging to his shoulders like a monkey. “Just evening the score for this morning’s stealth attack, big brother. You’re not the only one who can sneak up on people.”
Hattie and Edie appeared behind them, both wearing matching amused smirks. Hattie folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve been looking for you two all over. Thought you’d ditched us for some secret gelato rendezvous.”
Edie nodded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, Mae said you were probably off flirting somewhere. Turns out she was right.”
I could feel my cheeks flush as I glanced at Oscar, who was still trying to pry Mae off his back without spilling his gelato. “Us? Flirting?” I said, feigning innocence. “We were just… enjoying our ice cream. Totally innocent.”
Mae finally hopped off Oscar’s back, adjusting her shirt with a triumphant smile. “Sure, sure. We believe you. But don’t think we didn’t see that little moment just now. If you’re gonna get all cute and flirty, at least invite us next time so we can take notes.”
Oscar rubbed his shoulder, shaking his head at Mae’s antics. “You’re all just jealous of my natural charm. Can’t a guy enjoy gelato in peace?”
Hattie smirked, nudging Edie. “Or maybe we just like keeping you on your toes. After all, someone’s gotta make sure you’re not too distracted by… certain distractions.”
I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. “Don’t worry, girls. I’ve got it all under control. And besides, someone’s gotta keep him from knocking over gelato carts.”
Oscar shot me a look of mock betrayal, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “Great, now I’ve got all of you ganging up on me. But hey, if it gets Mae off my back—literally—I’ll take it.”
Mae patted his shoulder, still grinning. “Aw, don’t be such a baby. We’re just here to keep you grounded. And if that means ambushing you from time to time, then so be it.”
Oscar shook his head, laughing under his breath. “You all have too much fun at my expense.”
Hattie, always ready with a quick retort, smirked as she picked up a napkin to wipe some melted gelato off the bench. “Hey, it’s only fair. You spent the entire morning trying to charm the life out of everyone. We’re just giving you a taste of your own medicine.”
Edie leaned against the bench, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “And let’s be real, Oscar—keeping you grounded is practically a full-time job. It’s like herding a cat with a God complex.”
Oscar threw his hands up in mock defeat. “Alright, alright. I get it—I’m officially outnumbered.”
Mae grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, definitely. But you love it. You wouldn’t know what to do without us.”
Oscar glanced at me, his grin widening. “Yeah, well, I think I’ve got some backup now. Someone’s gotta be on my side.”
I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Don’t look at me. I’m just here for the gelato and entertainment. You’re on your own.”
The sisters burst into laughter, and Oscar let out an exaggerated sigh. “See? This is my life now—betrayed by everyone I care about.”
“Hey,” Mae said, elbowing him in the side. “That’s the price you pay for being charming and annoyingly persistent.”
Oscar slung an arm over her shoulders, pulling her into a playful side hug. “Yeah, well, I guess it’s a small price to pay for being this irresistible.”
Edie rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with mock exasperation. “There he goes again. We can’t take you anywhere.”
I glanced at the bags the sisters were carrying, each one bursting with colorful trinkets, snacks, and what looked like the most random assortment of souvenirs imaginable. “So, what did you guys get? Anything worth bragging about?”
Hattie held up a woven fan, waving it dramatically in front of her face. “Essential survival gear,” she declared. “If I have to hear Mae complain about the heat one more time, this thing’s getting thrown at her.”
Mae shot her a look, then pulled out a tiny carved wooden turtle with a goofy grin etched into its face. “I got this little guy. He’s the new mascot of our misadventures. And don’t you dare say he’s useless, because I’m emotionally attached now.”
Edie, not to be outdone, produced a pair of wildly patterned sunglasses that looked like they’d been pulled straight out of a 1980s music video. “And I got these. They were practically begging to be bought.”
I grinned, exchanging a knowing look with Oscar. “Well, well, looks like I win the bet. Edie cracked first.” I held out my hand toward Oscar, palm up. “That’ll be five euros, please.”
Oscar sighed dramatically, fishing the crumpled bill out of his pocket. “I should’ve known better than to bet against your instincts.” He slapped the money into my hand, feigning disappointment. “Enjoy your winnings.”
Mae’s jaw dropped, her eyes darting between us. “Wait, wait, wait. You guys bet on us?”
Oscar shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s all in good fun. I just had a feeling Edie wouldn’t be able to resist the lure of something ridiculous.”
Edie clutched her sunglasses to her chest in mock outrage. “You bet on us? What are we, a reality show now? Next thing I know, there’ll be a scoreboard tracking all our bad decisions.”
Hattie laughed, shaking her head. “Honestly, I feel betrayed, but also kinda proud. At least you guys know us well enough to make accurate predictions.”
Mae crossed her arms, a mock pout on her lips. “I would’ve bet on Edie too, though. She can’t go five minutes without buying something weird.”
I smirked, pocketing my euros. “Don’t worry, it’s all out of love. And hey, at least now I’m five euros richer.”
Oscar slung his arm around my shoulders, grinning. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But I’m coming back for that money, just you wait.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the easy camaraderie between us all. “Well, you’re welcome to try, but I think I’ll keep my winning streak going.”
As the playful energy buzzed between us, we decided to split up again—Mae and Edie darting off towards a stall selling handcrafted jewelry, and Hattie wandering towards a display of local ceramics. Oscar nudged me, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Come on,” he said, tilting his head toward a boutique nestled at the end of the market. “Let’s check out that shop. Looks like your kind of place.”
I followed his gaze to a quaint little boutique tucked into a narrow alley, its entrance framed by delicate vines of bougainvillea spilling over the roof. The shop’s exterior was painted in soft pastels, and a whimsical, hand-painted sign above the door read Marina’s Closet in elegant, looping script. The glass windows were filled with a curated display of dresses, sun hats, and accessories, each item carefully arranged to catch the eye. Through the window, I could see racks of brightly colored clothes, twinkling with the promise of a well-spent afternoon.
As we stepped inside, the cool air was a welcome relief from the heat outside. The shop was small but charming, filled with an eclectic mix of elegant summer dresses, flowy skirts, and delicate blouses in fabrics that ranged from soft linens to airy silks. The walls were painted a soft blush pink, and the space was filled with carefully arranged plants, their green leaves trailing down the walls and adding to the shop’s intimate, garden-like feel. Soft music played overhead—a mix of gentle acoustic and soft pop that set a relaxing, dreamy mood.
Antique mirrors lined the walls, their ornate, gold-gilded frames reflecting the soft light of the hanging lanterns that gave the boutique a warm, cozy glow. Shelves displayed colorful accessories—scarves, statement necklaces, and wide-brimmed hats, each one more elegant than the last. The floor was a mix of polished wood and a plush rug in the center, creating a sense of luxury and comfort all at once.
Oscar’s eyes sparkled as he glanced over the selection, his smile widening as he pulled out a flowing dress in a delicate shade of dusty rose. “This place is pretty cool. It’s got that ‘I know I’m expensive’ vibe,” he joked, running his thumb over the soft fabric. “But hey, nothing wrong with dreaming a little, right?”
I nodded, trailing behind him as he moved down the aisle. My fingers brushed against a rack of silk blouses and embroidered tops, each more intricate than the last. I picked up a dress—a light blue number with delicate floral patterns stitched along the hem—and flipped the tag over, my eyes widening at the price. “Yeah, it’s definitely out of my usual budget. I mean, I love window shopping, but this stuff? This is like, ‘Do I need to sell a kidney?’ territory.”
Oscar glanced at me, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he gently took the dress from my hand, holding it up against me. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” he said, his tone playful but with a hint of seriousness. “And besides, it looks amazing. You should try it on.”
I hesitated, looking around at the boutique’s carefully curated atmosphere, every detail screaming exclusivity. “I don’t know, Oscar. This isn’t exactly my kind of place. I’m more of a ‘sale rack at Zara’ kind of girl. And these prices? Let’s just say they’re a bit much.”
But Oscar didn’t seem to care about the price tags or my hesitations. He found another dress—a soft lavender one with a cinched waist and delicate lace detailing at the shoulders—and held it out to me, his grin never faltering. “Just try it on. What’s the harm? It’s not every day you get to play dress-up in a fancy place like this.” he said, his voice casual but sincere. “Try it on. What’s the harm in that?”
I hesitated, glancing at the price tag again. “Oscar, this stuff is like... ridiculously overpriced. I don’t think trying on a dress I can’t afford is gonna make me feel better.”
He grinned, nudging me gently. “Come on, it’s just for fun. And besides, you never know—maybe you’ll fall in love with something, and I’ll just have to figure out how to make it yours.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “Fine, but only because you’re annoyingly convincing.” I took the dress from his hands and headed toward the fitting room, the soft fabric cool against my skin.
Inside the fitting room, I slipped into the dress, feeling the way the light material draped elegantly over my figure. It was simple yet stunning, with delicate lace detailing along the neckline and a flowing skirt that brushed just above my ankles. I smoothed my hands over the fabric, feeling unexpectedly confident as I stepped out to show Oscar.
His eyes lit up as he saw me, and he leaned back against one of the mirrored walls, his gaze roaming appreciatively. “Wow,” he said, the word coming out in a breathless sort of way that made my cheeks warm. “You look... amazing.”
I twirled slightly, watching the dress flare out around me. “Yeah? You don’t think it’s too much?”
He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Not at all. It’s perfect. But let’s see more—you’re not done yet.”
Encouraged by his reaction, I tried on a few more dresses—a pastel blue sundress with delicate embroidery that hugged my waist and a soft, buttery yellow wrap dress with fluttery sleeves. Each time I stepped out, Oscar’s praise came easy, his eyes bright with genuine admiration that left me feeling both flattered and slightly overwhelmed.
I stood before the mirror, dressed in the last outfit—a bold, deep green dress with a plunging neckline and an effortlessly elegant cut that made me feel like I was stepping into another world. I turned slightly, admiring the way the color brought out the warmth in my skin. “I can’t decide,” I admitted, biting my lip as I looked at the three dresses hanging beside me. “They’re all so beautiful, but...”
Oscar stepped closer, his reflection appearing beside mine in the mirror. “Why choose?” he said lightly, his hand brushing my shoulder as he gazed at the dresses. “You look incredible in all of them.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Oscar, that’s not how this works. These dresses are... well, let’s just say they’re not in my usual shopping cart. I have to pick one, and even that feels like a splurge.”
But Oscar just shrugged, his smile turning teasing. “Or you could let me handle it. Consider it my treat.”
I blinked, turning to face him fully. “No way. Oscar, you can’t just—”
He cut me off with a playful roll of his eyes, already reaching for his wallet. “I can and I will. Besides, you’re the one who’s been keeping me entertained all day. It’s the least I can do.”
I watched, half in shock, half in admiration as he took all three dresses to the counter, handing over his card with a charming smile. The shopkeeper, a kindly older woman with a twinkle in her eye, rang up the total, her knowing smile suggesting she’d seen this kind of gesture before.
“Oscar, you’re ridiculous,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice light but unable to fully hide how touched I was. “But... thank you.”
He handed me the bags with a wink, his fingers lingering against mine for just a second longer than necessary. “You’re welcome. And besides, now I get to see you in all three. Totally worth it.”
I laughed, feeling the weight of the dresses in my hands and the warmth of Oscar’s gesture settle in my chest. It was more than just a shopping trip—it was another shared moment, another flirty, unplanned adventure that made everything feel a little more magical.
“You really are something else, you know that?” I said, shaking my head but smiling all the same.
Oscar grinned, stepping closer as we made our way out of the boutique. “Yeah, but I’m your something else. And I think that’s working out pretty well.”
As we stepped out of the boutique and back into the bustling market, I felt the weight of Oscar’s generosity with every step, the boutique bags brushing against my legs. It was more than just the dresses; it was the way he effortlessly turned a simple shopping trip into something memorable, something that lingered in the air between us like an unspoken promise.
I tried to brush off the fluttery feeling that had settled in my chest, but it was no use. This thing with Oscar—it was different from anything I’d ever known. I’d had my share of flings before, little sparks that fizzled out as quickly as they began. Those past connections had always felt manageable, easy to keep at arm’s length. But with Oscar, nothing felt sensible anymore. The boundaries I’d set for myself, the rules I used to follow, they all seemed to blur in his presence.
Every time I looked at him, it was like the ground had shifted beneath me.
The truth of it all was incomprehensible, a quiet realization that settled in as we strolled through the market together.
I glanced at him, watching the way he moved with such easy confidence, the way he could make a simple afternoon feel like an adventure. It was unsettling, exhilarating, and it was all him.
Oscar’s eyes sparkled with a playful intensity, his voice dipping into that teasing, confident tone that always sent my heart racing. “Just so you know,” he murmured, leaning in closer, “if you keep looking at me like that, I won’t have a choice but to make you lay all your love on me.”
I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, caught between the thrill of his words and the undeniable pull that kept drawing us closer. “Is that a challenge?” I shot back, my smile betraying the flutter of excitement I couldn’t quite hide.
Oscar’s grin widened, his thumb tracing a light, teasing line along my wrist. “Not a challenge, sweetheart—just a promise.”
I stood there, momentarily stunned by the warmth of his words, feeling the electricity of the moment crackle between us. Before I could even think to respond, Oscar reached out casually and took the shopping bags from my hands, his movements smooth and effortless. It was such a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes—his natural ease, the way he so confidently stepped in without asking, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Hey,” I protested lightly, reaching to take them back, but he just shook his head, flashing me that boyish, infuriatingly charming smile.
“I’ve got it,” he said, his tone light but firm, like there was no room for argument. “Besides, it’s only fair. You did all the hard work trying them on. I’m just here to look pretty and carry the bags.”
I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress the grin tugging at my lips. “Yeah, sure. Because that was so exhausting for you.”
Oscar shrugged, adjusting the bags in his hands as if they weighed nothing. “Hey, I’m just doing my part. You get to rock the dresses, and I get to be the guy who made you smile today. Seems like a fair trade to me.”
Oscar glanced over, catching my gaze, and his smile softened. “I mean it, you know. You look amazing. And I’m glad you let me do this,” he said, giving the bags a little lift as if to emphasize his point.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, the sincerity in my voice matching the look in his eyes. “Not just for the dresses, but… for today.”
He winked, nudging me lightly with his shoulder as we continued down the cobblestone street. “Anytime. And hey, just remember—you don’t have to lay all your love on me. But I’m here, just in case you feel like it.”
We regrouped with the rest of the crew at a quaint, sun-soaked café nestled on a side street, its tiny tables spilling out onto the cobblestones under the shade of a vine-draped pergola. The café looked like it had been plucked straight from a movie set—warm, rustic, and effortlessly charming, with mismatched chairs and handwritten chalkboard menus propped against the stone walls. Mae, Hattie, and Edie were already seated, chattering animatedly over a pitcher of iced tea, the condensation pooling lazily on the table in the afternoon heat.
“There you are,” Mae called out, waving dramatically as we approached. “We were about to send out a search party. Or, you know, just assume you two were off kissing ass and making out somewhere.”
Oscar chuckled, pulling out a chair for me with a gallant flourish before dropping into the seat next to mine. “Who, us? We’d never. Just two innocent tourists enjoying the sights,” he said with mock innocence, shooting me a playful side-eye that made my heart do a little flip.
Hattie leaned forward, smirking as she sipped her drink. “Innocent, huh? I don’t know, Oscar. The way you two keep disappearing, it’s so suspicious from my point of view.”
Edie snorted, pushing a basket of fresh bread toward us. “Yeah, and we’re all just here for the free show. So, did you buy out the whole boutique, or was it just a private shopping spree for two?”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my grin. “Very funny. It was strictly a ‘window shopping with a side of unsolicited fashion advice’ kind of trip.” I shot Oscar a look, remembering how he’d nudged me into trying on almost everything in the shop.
Oscar leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head, looking far too pleased with himself. “What can I say? I’ve got a knack for knowing what looks good. And hey, she made it easy.”
Mae scoffed, breaking off a piece of bread and popping it into her mouth. “Easy? Oscar, the way you two were eyeing each other, I’m surprised we didn’t walk in on a full-blown fashion montage. Music and all.”
Oscar raised his hands in surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Guilty as charged. But can you blame me? She makes everything look good.”
I felt my cheeks warm under his praise, and I tried to keep my composure as I reached for a glass of water. “Don’t encourage him,” I said, trying to sound exasperated but failing as a smile crept onto my lips. “He’s already got enough of an ego without you guys cheering him on.”
Edie chuckled, nudging Mae. “See? I told you. They’re basically one flirty comment away from starring in their own rom-com.”
Oscar shot Edie a mock glare, then turned back to me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Well, if this is a rom-com, then I guess that makes you the leading lady,” he said, his voice dipping into that teasing, flirty tone that never failed to make my heart skip.
"Your shit is so corny dude, lighten the fuck up," Edie sighed, burying her head in her palms. Mae slapped her head, giggling furiously.
I snorted, grabbing a menu and pretending to study it intently. “Great, then I demand script approval. No more surprise elbow attacks, and definitely no scenes where I have to chase you down a street.”
As I pretended to study the menu, Oscar leaned in, trying to catch a glimpse of my choices. “You know, I’d recommend the moussaka. It’s practically a work of art on a plate.”
“Artful moussaka? Really?” I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I’ll stick to the classic spanakopita. At least it can’t judge me.”
“Spanakopita it is, then,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll get the same. Mae, Hattie, Edie, what are you guys having?”
“Just the usual—some dolmas and a slice of that legendary baklava,” Mae said, looking gleeful. “I’m here for dessert first.”
“I’ll do the baklava too!” Edie piped up. “We can share a slice and get a second for later—strategic planning, you know.”
As Hattie scrolled through the menu, her expression turned mischievous. “I’ll have the chef’s special, but only if you promise to steal a bite of mine, Oscar.”
“Only if you promise to share the secret recipe,” he replied with a wink.
Just as we were about to place our order, a waiter approached our table. “Ready to order?”
We all chimed in, each person stating their choices. I noticed a sudden flurry of confusion on the waiter’s face as he scribbled down our orders.
“Uh, so that’s two spanakopita, one moussaka, two baklava, and… the chef’s special?” he recapped, looking uncertain.
“Right!” Mae said enthusiastically.
As I pretended to study the menu, Oscar leaned in, trying to catch a glimpse of my choices. “You know, I’d recommend the moussaka. It’s practically a work of art on a plate.”
“Artful moussaka? Really?” I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I’ll stick to the classic spanakopita. At least it can’t judge me.”
“Spanakopita it is, then,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll get the same. Mae, Hattie, Edie, what are you guys having?”
“Just the usual—some dolmas and a slice of that legendary baklava,” Mae said, looking gleeful. “I’m here for dessert first.”
“I’ll do the baklava too!” Edie piped up. “We can share a slice and get a second for later—strategic planning, you know.”
As Hattie scrolled through the menu, her expression turned mischievous. “I’ll have the chef’s special, but only if you promise to steal a bite of mine, Oscar.”
“Only if you promise to share the secret recipe,” he replied with a wink.
Just as we were about to place our order, a waiter approached our table. “Ready to order?”
We all chimed in, each person stating their choices. I noticed a sudden flurry of confusion on the waiter’s face as he scribbled down our orders.
“Uh, so that’s two spanakopita, one moussaka, two baklava, and… the chef’s special?” he recapped, looking uncertain.
“Right!” Mae said enthusiastically.
But then the waiter’s expression shifted to one of realization. “Um, we actually ran out of the chef’s special a few minutes ago. Would you like to choose something else?”
Hattie’s face fell. “Oh no! That was the one thing I was really looking forward to!”
Oscar glanced at Hattie, his brow furrowing as he sensed her disappointment. “Hey, how about we order a few extra baklava? They’ll definitely lift your spirits, and we can make a little baklava party.”
“Yeah, and I’ll swap you half my spanakopita if you want,” I offered, trying to ease the mood.
“See? Look at that! A culinary compromise,” Oscar said, grinning as he turned back to the waiter. “So, that’s two spanakopita, three baklava, and Hattie, what would you like instead of the special?”
“Uh… I’ll take the Greek salad,” Hattie said, her smile returning. “And I’ll make sure to save a bite for you, Oscar.”
“Perfect!” Oscar declared, a playful glint in his eye. “Just be sure it’s not the size of a small planet.”
Just then, Mae reached for the pitcher of iced tea but knocked over her cup of water instead, sending it cascading across the table. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, grabbing napkins in a panic.
“Mae!” Edie laughed, trying to help. “You just wanted a splash of drama, didn’t you?”
Hattie giggled as she handed Mae more napkins. “Looks like you’re creating your own little water feature over here.”
Oscar, ever the quick thinker, grabbed a few napkins and leaned in, grinning. “Don’t worry, Mae. You’re not the first one to bring a bit of chaos to the table. Just think of it as adding a little flavor to our meal.”
"Oscar don't even," Mae rolled her eyes. "You're so bloody pasty and white you even if I added seasoning to your water you wouldn't taste any difference."
The group erupted into laughter, and Oscar feigned shock, putting a hand over his heart. “Pasty? I’ll have you know I’m just ‘lightly seasoned,’ thank you very much.”
At that moment, I took a sip of water, and his ridiculous remark caught me off guard. I choked on the cool liquid, my eyes widening in surprise. The refreshing taste turned into a near disaster as I fought to keep it all down. I felt the water bubble up in my throat, and for a split second, I was convinced I might just spray it all over the table.
My cheeks flushed as I quickly covered my mouth with my hand, stifling the urge to burst into laughter or worse, make a total mess. I managed to swallow just in time, but I couldn't help the splutter that escaped, sending a small splash of water onto the table.
“Whoa! Are you alright?” Edie leaned forward, her eyes wide with concern and amusement.
“Yeah, just… almost became a fountain,” I gasped, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Thanks to you, Oscar.”
He leaned back, hands up in mock surrender, clearly enjoying the chaos. “I’m just here for the entertainment! Didn’t mean to turn you into a water feature.”
“To be fair Osc, you're more like ‘extra bland,’” Edie chimed in, grinning as she took a sip of her tea. “You’re practically a walking Greek salad without the dressing.”
“I think that just made it worse,” I added, trying to contain my giggles.
Oscar laughed along, clearly unfazed. “Well, someone has to be the contrast in this colorful group. I’m here to balance out all this vibrant energy.”
“Right, because we definitely need someone to remind us of a plain piece of pita bread,” Hattie teased.
“Hey, I’m the life of the party!” Oscar shot back, leaning in closer to me. “And let’s be honest, without my charisma, who would keep the chaos in check? You all would be lost.”
As the laughter faded, we savored the last bites of our meal. The moussaka was rich and savory, the spanakopita perfectly flaky, and the baklava—a sweet ending that left us all satisfied. I leaned back in my chair, a contented sigh escaping my lips. “That was honestly one of the best meals I’ve had in ages.”
“Agreed!” Mae chimed in, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I could eat Greek food every day.”
Oscar grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Speaking of keeping the fun going, I heard there’s a great nightclub nearby. We should totally check it out!”
Hattie perked up, clearly intrigued. “Oh, that could be fun! I’m in!”
Mae’s expression shifted, disappointment washing over her. “I can’t go,” she said, her voice dropping. “I’m still underage.”
Edie looked at Mae sympathetically. “That really sucks. But hey, we can still hang out! I’ll stay with you.”
Mae’s frown softened slightly at Edie’s reassurance. “Yeah, that could be nice. Thanks, Edie.”
Oscar turned to me, his grin widening. “So, what do you say? A little nighttime adventure? Just you, me, and Hattie tearing up the dance floor?”
I met his gaze, the thrill of spontaneity igniting in my chest. “Count me in.”
“Alright, then! Let’s make this night unforgettable!” he declared, excitement bubbling in his voice.
“Ain’t nobody wants to see you dance, white boy,” Edie rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips.
Oscar feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart. “Excuse me? My moves are legendary!”
“Legendary at what? Scaring away everyone on the dance floor?” Edie shot back, laughter lighting up her eyes.
“Hey, I’ll have you know my dancing is an art form!” Oscar retorted, grinning widely. “I just need the right audience.”
"I can never argue with you Osc," Edie shook her head.
As we stood up to leave, I glanced back at Mae and Edie, who exchanged a knowing smile. It was clear they would have their own fun together. I felt a mix of anticipation and nerves as I stepped outside, the warm evening air wrapping around us like a promise of adventure.
With Oscar and Hattie by my side, I felt ready to dive into whatever the night had in store.
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author's note: a double update for my lovelies, so sorry i didn't update on sunday <3, i hope you enjoy chapters 5 and 6!!
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taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09 @fix5idiots
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oddinary4bts · 11 months ago
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Sinful Lust | ch 5 (myg & jjk)
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☆summary: On a rainy night in May, everything is bound to break. Hearts that once beat as one, now break in time with the tide. What will be left in the end?
☆pairing: bisexual boyfriend!Yoongi x female!reader x Jungkook
☆rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)
☆genre: mostly angst, smut, snippets of life!au
☆warnings: mentions of what happened between Jungkook and OC in ch 4, cheating, cursing, momentary trip to the hospital, mentions of bullying and getting beaten up, mentions of alcoholic parent, mentions of domestic abuse, explicit content: protected sex in a semi-public environment, fingering, squirting, anal sex, car sex
☆word count: 8.3k
☆a/n: This one is really sad. We learn more about Jungkook's past, and we see everything crashing down. Please don't hate me for this :') Annnnd thank you @moonleeai as always for beta-ing this fic <3
☆a/n pt2: I do not own BTS or any of the members. I do not know what they are like irl (I do not claim to know their personalities, sexual orientations, beliefs, etc.). This fic is just a work of fiction, so please keep that in mind while reading
☆series masterpost
☆☆☆☆☆
            ��   May is rainy. You watch the world outside – it’s turned grey weeks ago, and the sun has yet to show up. Or at least it feels that way, and you’re slightly annoyed as you once again look out the window, only to be greeted by drops of water racing each other on the glass.
You don’t mind the rain. You never really did. But you don’t like feeling like you’re not doing anything, and the book you’ve been trying to read since you got home from work just isn’t cutting it.
Or maybe it’s the fact that Yoongi is once again going to be home late tonight. You don’t know what project he’s been working on – whenever you’ve asked questions about it, he was super evasive. But like clockwork, every night for three weeks Yoongi got home late after work, claiming that he is too tired to do anything with you.
You don’t blame him. He’s been working crazy hours, but you just miss his presence. Now, whenever you get to actually spend some time together he also invites Jungkook, and you feel like your relationship with Yoongi just isn’t what it used to be.
When you brought it up to him last week, he said that he was too tired to talk about it, and he kissed the side of your head before rolling to the other side of the bed. The dismissal was clear, and it’s been making you feel dreadful, like every breath you take is missing just a little bit of oxygen, making your lungs burn and heart beat harder in your chest as it tries to compensate.
You know what changed everything. You saw it in slow motion – that night you’d woken Yoongi up because of Jungkook. That same night you had fucked Yoongi on Facetime while Jungkook watched and guided the two of you.
Yoongi hasn’t looked at you the same way since then. You hate it, hate the distance that’s wedged itself between you and him, but you don’t know how to fix it.
No amount of cuddling or affection or loving words seem to be enough to bring Yoongi back from the place his mind wandered to when he saw what you and Jungkook had been texting about.
It was a mistake. You know it today, and you wish you could take it back.
Wish you could take the whole ordeal back.
But you can’t, and you’ve been trying to be better. To treat Yoongi better, to make sure you don’t overstep the boundaries, though you reckon that night you went flying over the line at the speed of light.
You sigh, leaning your head back against the couch. You’ve been trying to read your favourite book – the one Yoongi bought for you on your first date, annotated in the margins with all of his thoughts on it. But every time you see his handwriting, every time you read what he left behind, your heart just hurts a little more.
You’ve suggested calling off this whole thing with Jungkook. Yoongi laughed and said that he didn’t want to stop. It was strange to see him like that – like he isn’t the same man you once fell in love with anymore. But then again you reckon you haven’t been the same either.
How could you be the same after experiencing Jeon Jungkook?
Jungkook, too, has changed. He doesn’t smile with you as much as he used to, and sometimes you feel like he’s forcing himself. Like he doesn’t want to be there, but just like you and Yoongi, he doesn’t know how to stop.
It’s a mess. Everything is a mess, and you wish you’d know how to fix it.
But you don’t, and so you force your eyes to skim over the lines of the book, reading words that used to be familiar and now feel like excerpts from a different life.
*****
                Yoongi likes the rain. It’s calm, soothing, and he feels like the world stops rushing when it’s under the clouds. Like he can sit back, relax and enjoy the coffee on the table in front of him. He’s ordered it black, and though it’s a little too warm, he still enjoys every single sip he takes of it.
Jimin isn’t here yet. But Yoongi doesn’t mind – he likes watching the droplets of water racing on the window. It keeps his thoughts busy, keeps them from running back to you and Jungkook and the night you fucking sexted with Jungkook while he was sleeping next to you.
His first thought had been to be mad at you, but then he’d figured he could twist this to his advantage. Because he knew you and Jungkook both felt guilty, and it now shows in the way you take care of him.
And maybe he is sick and twisted for enjoying the sex life like this, but he reckons he deserves it after you’ve cheated on him.
He’s aware he should confront you. Should tell you how it made him feel, even though you were quick to make sure Yoongi was involved too. The situation just broke some part of him, and he highly doubts it will ever be fixed. For now, he’s just content as he sits back and enjoys what’s left of the relationship before it goes up in flames.
He never knew he was such a petty person. Or maybe getting involved with Jeon Jungkook just brought out the worst of him. Which, he reckons, he should have expected. Because Jungkook has a tendency to do that to all of the relationships Yoongi has seen him involved in.
It’s no wonder he’s never had a girlfriend.
The bell by the doors of the café rings, and Yoongi knows it’s Jimin before he’s even looked towards the entrance. Maybe because he’s too aware of Jimin now – he’s been searching for the man in every room, every crowd, ever since that night that changed everything.
He has to confront you. He’s aware that lying about staying at work late isn’t all that better than what you did. But Jimin is like the rain – he’s soothing, calming, and maybe it helps with fixing the jagged pieces of Yoongi’s broken heart and trust, and he likes keeping that part of his life to himself.
At least for now.
Jimin’s smile is blinding when he sits in front of Yoongi. He’s got a tote bag, and he pulls two books out before he even says hello.
“I got us some reading for tonight,” Jimin finally says, and he shakes the water from his hair. And then the smile falls into the soft one that renders Yoongi unable to think as he says, “Thank you for the coffee.”
Because Yoongi memorized Jimin’s coffee order the first time they got coffee together. It came far too naturally to him – you’re the one he used to remember everything about so easily. But things have changed. You’ve been slipping down a slope, and he knows the end won’t be positive.
“Thank you for the book,” Yoongi says right as he takes the one Jimin offers him.
His blood turns to ice in his veins. He tries not to let it show on his face, even though he freezes right on the spot, as if he’s been suddenly sent straight to orbit with no atmosphere around him to keep his body warm anymore.
It’s the book he and you read on your first date, five years ago. He’d filled it with notes for you, and he knows you keep it in the first drawer of your night table, as if it’s a Bible you like to read to fall asleep every night.
“Something wrong?” Jimin gently asks, his smile slowly wavering until it disappears entirely.
“Sorry…” Yoongi apologizes, though he doesn’t really know what for.
He’s not entirely sure Jimin is the one he should be apologizing to right now.
“It’s just…” he adds when Jimin doesn’t say anything, looking confused. “That’s my girlfriend’s favourite book.”
Jimin looks alarmed. His eyes widen, and he tries to take the book back, though Yoongi holds onto it.
“I’m so sorry,” Jimin says. “I thought… my granddad said it was a good book, so I figured why not?”
“It really is,” Yoongi quickly replies, hoping it would bring back Jimin’s easy smile.
Jimin gulps, looking down at the copy he saved for himself. “Well…” He chuckles, and it’s a little awkward. “I guess we can say your girlfriend has good taste.”
There’s a deeper meaning behind Jimin’s words. Yoongi hears it right away, and something stirs in his chest. Blush creeps on his cheeks, and he tries to push it away, as far away as he can, but he finds he’s too weak to do so.
“She does.”
At that Jimin looks up to meet his gaze again. “Do you still want to read it, though? I know things haven’t been great with her…”
Yoongi has been confiding in Jimin. He hasn’t been able to speak to anyone from his group of friends, mostly because all of them are friends with Jungkook too. They don’t know about what’s been going on, and Yoongi doesn’t want to tell them either.
Though he thinks Namjoon might know, even if he’s never said anything about it.
So he’s been confiding in Jimin instead. Every night that they meet for coffee, or those that Yoongi goes to help at Seojun’s bookstore. It’s been like therapy for him, though he reckons Jimin might not be the person he should be confiding in.
Not when the crush he has for the man feels a little too real.
Another thought that he pushes away, or tries to. He’s not sure that it works, but it does chase Jungkook and you out of his thoughts.
“We can read it if you want,” he tells Jimin. “I promise it’s worth the read.”
Jimin offers him a careful smile. “Sounds good.” He pauses, cheeks tinting with pink as he looks down at the coffee Yoongi got for him. “Next time I’ll let you choose the book.”
*****
                Jungkook shifts, keeping his features cool and composed as the shutter of the camera goes off. He tilts his head to the side for the next picture, then looks away. He’s been at it for what feels like hours now, and he frankly can’t wait to be done.
Though the work has been a well-deserved reprieve from his churning thoughts.
He moves into another pose, staring down the camera with a slight frown on his features, head tilted back. The camera shutter goes off again, and he’s about to move into another position when the director yells, “Cut!”
Jungkook breaks into a smile, though he doesn’t really know why. Maybe because he actually likes this – the posing, the modelling, feeling as if he’s the shit for a moment.
It helps him forget that you are Yoongi’s, and not his.
Jungkook walks away from where they were shooting, and the fashion designer that chose the outfits for the day approaches him, a smile on her lips.
A pretty smile that matches her equally pretty features. Boring though – they’re lacking something that he can’t quite put a finger on.
“You did great,” she compliments him as they near a table with snacks and water bottles for the staff.
Jungkook grabs a water bottle, opening it and taking a long, refreshing sip. “It was all you,” he flirts back, though he wasn’t quite sure she was flirting to begin with.
When he notices her features turning a light shade of pink, he knows he hit his mark.
“Please,” she says, scoffing as she shakes her head in a self-deprecating manner. “I barely did anything.”
He smirks. “Give yourself some credit, you did a good job.”
She wets her lips, the tint on her cheeks darkening. “Well then, thank you.”
There’s a silence as he drinks some more, and she grabs a quarter of an egg sandwich that she bites in with her head turned away from him. He imitates her, grabbing some for himself, only then realizing that he’s famished.
So he eats his fill with her next to him, in a silence that ought to be uncomfortable but isn’t quite so. And maybe it’s the way she eyes him, like he’s the dessert, that leads him to suggest heading somewhere quiet.
He sees the debate, the conflict in her eyes, because clearly this would be unprofessional. And she’s pretty, wearing a fashionable outfit that looks like she belongs in a lawyer office more than on a photoshoot. It hugs her frame right, and when she turns he gets a good look at her ass, at how the fabric stretches on her…
And he feels his dick slowly hardening.
“If we get caught, I’ll lose my job,” she answers, voice low as her gaze falls to the floor as if she’s ashamed.
As if she didn’t approach him for this in the first place.
“Then you’ll have to keep silent, mmh?” Jungkook fires back, voice low and sultry.
He sees the instant she folds. It’s in the way she bites her lips, and somehow the gesture is too familiar, sending a pang through his heart as you take over his thoughts.
Yet he follows the woman, watching her ponytail swing left and right with every step she takes. She leads him to an unused dressing room, and he catches sight of the rainy world outside as she locks the door behind them.
A rainy world, to match the rainy thoughts that have been clouding him.
She takes a step towards him, and though he’s faced away from her, she touches him, hand moving shyly on his back. He’s not sure he likes the shyness – he prefers your confidence, the way you touch him like he’s yours.
And maybe he is. Maybe he’s been for a lot longer than he’ll ever admit to anyone.
He turns around, forcing his lips into what he hopes is a lustful smirk. Eyes slightly narrowed, he looks down at the girl, and he realizes he doesn’t even remember her name.
He doesn’t care. He still crashes his lips on hers, pushing her back until she hits the door. And a moment later they are naked from the waist down, and her legs are around him as he pounds into her, her fingers digging in his shoulders as she lets out breathy sounds.
She feels good. He can’t deny it – her pussy squeezes his dick just right. But once again there’s just something lacking, and frustration slowly takes over him until he carries her to a desk, so that he can put her down and fuck her harder, trying to get rid of the frustration.
But it never goes away. No matter who he fucks, the frustration clings to him like a second skin, like he’s been cursed and will forever be haunted.
So he fucks the girl, holds her waist possessively even though he doesn’t give a shit about her. His eyes trail to the world outside – the raindrops are rolling on the window, partaking in a race he’s never understood.
He doesn’t mind the rain. Prefers cloudy or sunny weather over it, only because it makes riding his bike more fun, but he doesn’t mind the rain. He just feels as if the world goes too slow when it’s raining, as if his thoughts are one second away from catching up to him.
They always are. Always are far too close for comfort, as if he’s about to lose the race. And he knows he is – he feels how everything has been shifting between you and Yoongi. It all changed that night you and he sexted while Yoongi was asleep. Yoongi has been more demanding, colder, and Jungkook can tell that Yoongi’s detaching himself from the situation. Perhaps as a coping mechanism, so that he won’t feel the emotions.
Jungkook envies his friend for being able to do so, as his own emotions have been choking him. Until he can barely breathe, until he doesn’t even feel the girl as she squirms under him.
He doesn’t come. He gets bored before he does, pulling out so that he can finger her instead, mechanically. He does it until she comes, until she squirts all over the floor, and then he tells her he has to go. Tells her thank you, and tells her that he’ll reach out to hang out again soon.
He won’t. It’s just something he found helps with ghosting in general. Which, he knows he’ll ghost her.
He’s ghosted everyone that got close to him after he’s started fucking you and Yoongi. Because no one ever compares to you, and he frankly doesn’t even want to find someone else.
He leaves the girl behind, leaves that dressing room to find his, where he takes a quick shower before changing into his own clothes. He grabs his motorcycle helmet, curses the rain as a few minutes later he’s rolling on the streets.
And when he’s home, he immediately uncorks his whiskey bottle, pouring himself a large glass that he drinks watching the rain outside, wondering why is it that he got attached to the only thing he’ll never have.
*****
                It’s almost midnight when you realize that Yoongi might not be coming back home tonight. You texted him twice in the evening, and though your messages were delivered he still hasn’t read them.
You know he never checks his phone when he’s at work, but you highly doubt he’s still at work at this hour. And though you’re wearing one of his shirts, he’s never felt as much of a stranger as he does right now.
You try to forget it by looking at pictures of moments passed, of days and nights with him years ago when you believed he was the love of your life.
And though you still believe he is, you’re realizing that he doesn’t feel the same about you anymore. That somewhere between that first night with Jungkook and today, Yoongi changed.
You’re not stupid. You know exactly what caused the change, and you can’t help but hate yourself for it. To hate Jungkook, to hate Yoongi, for accepting to get involved with Jungkook. You should have known better – should have chosen someone you didn’t know.
Fear takes a hold of your heart, and you sit up in bed.
Is Yoongi with Jungkook, doing to you what you did to him weeks ago?
It hurts. You reckon it hurts and it’s hard to breathe, but then again you could never be mad at him for doing something with Jungkook without you being there. You think it’d be normal that the two friends got closer after having fucked – you yourself got a lot closer to Jungkook. But the thought still makes your blood feel like liquid acid, burning up your insides until you force yourself to grab your phone.
You go to your text messages as you worry at your bottom lip, pulling at the bit of dry skin you find there. Even through the anxiety that’s slowly taking hold of you, you make a mental note to do a lip mask soon, to help with the dryness.
It’s the only normal thought you are bound to have tonight, isn’t it? Because you immediately text Jungkook, asking if he knows where Yoongi is. And through a blurry vision you wait for his reply, your teeth now nibbling at your nails in an anxious manner you thought you’d gotten rid of years ago.
To your surprise, Jungkook replies in under five minutes.
[00:07 am] Jungkook: no clue [00:08 am] Jungkook: is something wrong
You don’t know how to answer. You think everything went wrong a while ago. You think Yoongi is sand slipping through your fingers, or perhaps he’s turned into the void between the stars where there used to be light. You think that though spring is reigning over the world outside, winter has found the land of your soul, and you’re not sure it’s ever going to leave.
[00:09 am] You: idk… [00:09 am] You: he said he’d be at work until late tonight but it’s past midnight… [00:10 am] You: he’s just an accountant, wtf would an accountant do at work so late at night
Jungkook’s reply takes a while to come in. As if he too needed to take a moment to analyze the situation, to face the gravity of it. Or you’re the only one that feels like the ground has slipped beneath your feet, and you’re about to go over the edge of the cliff.
[00:16 am] Jungkook: I can pick you up and we can go see if his car is at his job
Your eyes slide to the world outside. You haven’t pulled the curtains shut before lying in bed, as if you’d see Yoongi coming home this way even though you live on the upper levels of the building. But you do notice that rain seems to have given way to fog, though it isn’t thick enough to make driving in the night dangerous.
But would it be a good idea? To go chasing the night searching for Yoongi?
And then an entire other scenario takes a hold of you. Steals the breath from your lungs, makes your whole body hurt as if you’ve been set on fire.
What if he’s hurt? What if he got in a car crash on his way home, and he never made it?
What if he’s lying somewhere in a ditch, just waiting to be found?
You don’t fight the tears. Don’t fight a single one of them as they come pouring, just like the rain earlier today.
[00:18 am] You: would you mind?
Jungkook’s reply comes right away this time around.
[00:18 am] Jungkook: ofc not, I’ll be there in 20
So you get dressed, putting on a pair of black sweatpants along with a thick long-sleeved sweater. You stand by the door as you wait for Jungkook to arrive, almost hoping that Yoongi will be the one to cross the threshold first.
As you wait, you watch yourself in the mirror. You look distressed – eyes bloodshot from the tears that keep coming and going, dark bags under your gaze from the lack of sleep. Because of course you haven’t been sleeping well.
How could you sleep well when you’ve been feeling the love of your life slipping through your fingers?
Jungkook gets here faster than twenty minutes. You don’t want to ask how fast he was driving, especially not as his first reaction when you open the door is to pull you to his chest, holding you tight against him. Your tears free fall again, and you grab a hold of his jacket in your fists, clenching them on the fabric so hard you think it might rip. If Jungkook cares he doesn’t say it, instead lowering his head to rest his cheek on the top of your head.
“I’m sure he’s okay,” he tells you, voice velvety soft in its reassurance. “He’s okay.”
That second sentence feels like it was uttered more for Jungkook than for you. You reckon Jungkook does care for Yoongi. Probably more than as a friend, now that he’s been sleeping with you both.
“He has to be,” you reply, lips trembling.
Jungkook holds you tighter and he turns until his lips softly land a kiss to the side of your head. In the heaviness of the moment, it grounds you, and you pull away just enough to look at Jungkook.
His big eyes meet yours, and you wish you could read him. Though you think you’re starting to be able to, and you don’t want to see what’s in his eyes. So you take a step back, and he sucks on his piercing, before nodding once.
“I brought an extra helmet for you,” he says, and he hands it to you.
You look at it as if it’s a foreign thing to you. And it is – you’ve never ridden a bike before.
“You came with your bike?” you ask, carefully drying the tears that slipped on your cheeks.
He nods. “I do have a car but it’s at the repair shop right now.”
You let out a noncommittal sound as you grab the helmet, testing the weight in your hands, wondering what it’ll feel like on your head. Jungkook watches as you do so, still toying with his piercing mindlessly.
“Ready?”
You take a deep breath, pushing away the image of Yoongi dead in a ditch from your mind, before nodding your head.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
*****
                Yoongi didn’t see the time fly. When the café owner told him and Jimin that they were closing for the night, Yoongi’s gaze had widened. He’d been so into the book, rereading it for the first time in years, that he really hadn’t seen the time fly.
But he doesn’t really mind. He should, he knows he should, but Jimin is great company, so he doesn’t. He walks behind Jimin outside, avoiding puddles left over by the rain earlier. The rain has ceased now, but the world smells of it still, and the pavement reflects the orange glow of the streetlights as if it’s a mirror.
“Good thing it’s not raining anymore,” Jimin comments, looking over his shoulder at Yoongi.
Yoongi cocks an eyebrow. “You don’t like the rain?”
“I do,” Jimin answers as he turns back to look where he’s going. “But I don’t like driving in the rain, you know?”
Yoongi mindlessly walks a little faster until he’s able to walk side by side with Jimin, and his cheeks burn as their hands brush against each other. He pretends nothing happened, and so does Jimin.
And even though his heart is thundering in his chest, Yoongi says, “Yeah, driving in the rain does suck.”
“Don’t take me wrong though,” Jimin adds quickly. “It was all worth it tonight.”
Yoongi gulps. “It was?”
There’s silence, and Yoongi thinks about you for a time. He wonders if you’re waiting for him. He’s seen your texts, and maybe he’s an asshole for not replying, but he feels like something changed today.
Or maybe something broke, he’s not sure. He just knows that he can’t bring himself to answer you, and he also doesn’t want to go home right now. It does make him sad, for a fraction of a second. Because once upon a time you meant the world to him. You just don’t anymore.
“I like spending time with you, Yoongi,” Jimin says, voice soft, as he brushes his hand against Yoongi’s again.
Yoongi instinctively pulls his hand away, yet he still answers, “Me too.”
It’s the truth. He does enjoy every second he spends with Jimin. Perhaps because Jimin is easy, easier than you. Easier than this whole mess that is Jungkook and you and the threesomes.
Jimin stops, and Yoongi follows suit a step ahead. He turns around to look at Jimin, and the slightly pained expression on Jimin’s features feels like his heart has been stabbed, and he almost instinctively rubs at his chest, over the spot that aches.
“Why are you staying with her?” Jimin asks.
Why? Why indeed. Yoongi doesn’t even know – maybe he’s just too bad with confrontation. Maybe he doesn’t want to break your heart – though he knows Jungkook would be quick to fix it. Maybe it’s the familiarity of his life with you that’s keeping him from doing it. Maybe it’s the fear of losing something that was once great.
He really doesn’t know.
And as he stands there, holding Jimin’s gaze, Yoongi realizes something. Something he probably has known for a while, but refused to acknowledge. He’s stopped loving you a long time ago. Because you’re not the one that he loves anymore.
No, that person is Jimin.
Even though it breaks him, Yoongi closes the space between him and Jimin, grabbing the younger man’s cheeks softly as he presses his lips on Jimin’s.
Jimin is quick to kiss him back, to sigh against Yoongi’s mouth as he takes even a step closer. Jimin’s hands grab at the lapels of Yoongi’s coat, pulling him flush against him. Yoongi wonders if Jimin can feel the wild beats of his heart in his chest, where his fists rest against him.
When Jimin sighs again, Yoongi slips his tongue between his plump lips, and this time Jimin lets out a breathy sound that electrifies Yoongi as if he’s been hit by lightning.
He doesn’t think about you then. Doesn’t think about Jungkook either. All there is in the land of his mind is Jimin, and Jimin’s kiss is healing.
Jimin’s presence in his life has been healing since the very first day Yoongi saw him.
“Come home with me tonight,” Jimin breathes when they pull away.
Yoongi rests his forehead against Jimin’s, still gently cupping the man’s cheeks. “I can’t.”
Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps holding on to Yoongi. And Yoongi wishes the moment could stop – he feels the guilt slowly creeping in on him.
“Why did you kiss me?”
Because he wanted to. Yet Yoongi can’t bring himself to tell Jimin. Not when he thinks of you at home, waiting for him, not knowing that he’s been out at night falling in love with someone else for weeks now.
“I need to go home…”
Jimin bristles, and he steps away from Yoongi. He looks hurt, and rightfully so. Though Yoongi doubts Jimin’s pain even comes close to what you’ll feel when he’ll tell you what happened.
If he tells you.
“Alright then,” Jimin says, and there’s bitterness in his tone. In the way he furrows his brows, features turning harsh, cold. “Go home to her.”
It occurs to Yoongi that Jimin has probably been jealous of you for a while now. Has probably wanted Yoongi for longer than Yoongi has even wanted him.
Would he be a fool to let him slip away?
Would it change anything if he kissed Jimin again?
He tells himself he’s just trying to smooth the lines between Jimin’s brows when he does so. When he pulls Jimin flush against him, and their teeth collide as they kiss languidly. Jimin tastes sweet, even as the taste of coffee lingers in his mouth. It’s not as bitter as it should be – not when Jimin kisses so damn well.
So Yoongi lets himself forget about you for a time. Lets the part of him that’s been aching since that night you and Jungkook sexted take control. Maybe he’s trying to get revenge. Maybe he’s trying to hurt you like you hurt him. He doesn’t know.
Maybe he’s just stupid – he could have broken up with you before getting together with Jimin. But he thinks he’s made his decision weeks ago now, that first time he hung out with Jimin saying that he was staying at work late.
So when Jimin once again asks Yoongi to come home with him, he says yes. He follows Jimin to his car, though they only make it to the backseat. And as Jimin rides his cock, moaning as his fingers dig into Yoongi’s shoulders, rain starts again, drowning out the sounds of their passion.
*****
                Yoongi’s car wasn’t in the parking lot of his job. Jungkook refused to tell you what he thought was going on. Not as you started crying again, and asked if he could drive you to the nearest hospital. Because the second Jungkook saw that Yoongi’s car wasn’t there, and you admitted that Yoongi had been coming home later and later every day, Jungkook knew that Yoongi has been cheating on you.
So Jungkook agreed to drive you to the nearest hospital, and you’re halfway there now. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, and you’re a comforting warmth behind him. He wishes he could stop your heart from breaking, wishes he could take the pain away so that you wouldn’t have to experience it at all.
Fuck, even he is hurting. Because Yoongi and you ending means you and him will end too, and he doesn’t think he’s ready to let that go. So when they tell you that they don’t have anyone under the name of Min Yoongi at that first hospital, and you ask to go to another one, Jungkook drives you.
He tries to enjoy your closeness as much as he can, even as rain starts again, though it’s barely even pouring. He drives carefully, slower than he usually does on his bike. And when your arms tighten around him, he hopes you can’t feel his heart breaking in his chest.
You don’t declare yourself defeated until after the fourth hospital. Jungkook waits with you in the lobby as you sit on a bench, head hanging low. You’re not crying, but he can almost hear your thoughts where he’s standing next to you.
They’re even louder when he sits next to you, and you shift infinitesimally closer to him, as if you need his support.
Voice small, you say, “What if he was kidnapped?”
And Jungkook reckons maybe you’re refusing to face the truth. Like a coping mechanism – you’d rather paint Yoongi in a thousand different perspectives instead of one where he’d cheat on you. It shows Jungkook just how much you love your boyfriend, and for a moment he’s struck dumb, wishing that that night five years ago he’d been the one to approach you at the bar.
Even if you had clearly declined giving your number to him. He doesn’t know if you remember, and he’s pretty sure now is not the right time to ask.
“Maybe he’ll answer me,” Jungkook carefully says, and he feels stupid for not texting or calling Yoongi before.
And so he grabs his phone as you watch him, hope etched on your features. He feels like he’s a monster, like he’s about to take your heart and throw it to the rocks at the foot of the metaphorical cliff you’re standing on.
Because he sees it. He sees the pain in your features, sees the way you’re holding onto one last thread. He doesn’t want to be the one to cut it, but then again he’d be there to catch you.
He’s been waiting to catch you. It’s selfish, terribly so, and he looks away from you to call Yoongi.
Yoongi picks up on the third ring.
“Hello?” he lets out, sounding a little breathless.
You freeze. You freeze, unblinking, as if you were on a screen and Jungkook pressed pause.
“Hey, hyung?” Jungkook says.
There’s some mumbling on the other side of the line, all the confirmation that he needs to know Yoongi is indeed cheating on you.
“Why are you calling?” Yoongi asks, and he sounds annoyed.
Jungkook hates himself for what he says next. “Are you okay? Y/n is worried about you.”
There’s a pause on the other side of the line. As if Yoongi is holding his breath, as perhaps he’s faced with the consequences of what he’s doing.
“Yeah, everything is okay. You can tell her I’m heading home.”
Jungkook nods, still not looking at you. He’s not ready to face the destruction head on. “Okay, I’ll let her know.”
And then Yoongi is hanging up, not saying anything else. Jungkook doesn’t move, sitting in silence in the artificial light of that hospital lobby, watching people in scrubs and casual clothing walking around as if the world has not just stopped for you next to him.
“He must have been at work, then,” you murmur. “Maybe we just didn’t see his car.”
Jungkook hears his heart shattering on the tiles of the floor at the innocence in your voice. He says your name like you’re a fragile porcelain, like his hands are too clumsy to ever dare to hold you.
“Please,” is all you say.
He understands. So he asks, “Do you want to head home?”
“No.”
He nods, and he finally looks at you. Finally looks at your pale features, and the utter lack of feeling in your eyes. It hits so hard he thinks he gets a concussion from it, and he watches you, mind spinning in pain and sadness.
And though he wants to apologize, wants to say that it’s all his fault, all he manages to say is, “There’s a place I go to when I need to think. Do you want me to take you there?”
You meet his gaze, and he realizes you weren’t focusing on him before. Because now that you do he feels as if a train just ran into him, and he wishes he wouldn’t be able to feel. Yet he feels – feels for you and your broken heart. For Yoongi, who sacrificed you, and for what?
“Sure,” is all you reply.
So even if it’s raining, Jungkook starts driving you to that place where he went to weeks ago, where the sky meets the ocean and he can just stop thinking for a moment. He makes sure you hold him tight, though when the rain doubles up you’re forced to stop under a bridge, the last one before you’ll exit the city proper.
You climb down from his bike, and Jungkook watches you as you stand to the side. You don’t remove the helmet, as if it’s shelter for your broken eyes, and he doesn’t force you to. He removes his, puts it on the seat and then stands closer to you.
He just now realizes that your clothes aren’t made to ride in the rain. So he removes his jacket, handing it to you.
“Put this on, you’re going to catch a cold.”
You don’t move, and so Jungkook walks behind you, gently draping it over you. He shivers as he moves back in front of you, and he watches the reflections of the streetlights in the visor of your helmet as you just stand there, entirely motionless.
“We’ll keep going as soon as the rain stops,” he tells you. He grabs his phone from his pocket, going to the weather app. “Which should be in about twenty minutes.”
At that you turn towards the pillar of the bridge, and then make your way to it so that you can sit with your back to it. There’s something so defeated in the gesture that convinces Jungkook to make his way to you, sitting next to you even though he reckons it probably is unsanitary.
He can always wash the clothes later. He’s not sure he can afford to wait to keep you from breaking so thoroughly that no amount of fixing would bring you back.
“When I was a kid,” Jungkook starts, not knowing where to go, “I got bullied a lot.”
You don’t react, and he’s not sure if you’re listening. He just needs to fill the silence with truth, and so he decides to give you a piece of himself he’s never given to anyone before.
“Like a lot,” he continues. “It got to a point where older kids would beat me up. And my parents didn’t really want to do anything because they wanted me to fit in. But one day my father told me to punch them back.”
He remembers everything with vivid clarity. He remembers being nine years old, terrified to go to school because he wasn’t sure he’d survive the day. He remembers the stitches he’d needed on his cheek when they’d punch so hard it cut his skin open. He remembers the taste of the blood in his mouth when his lip split with the force of the punches. He remembers everything in such vivid clarity that he feels as if he’s been taken back then.
“And so I did,” he adds. “I punched back, and I quickly realized that I was good at it. So I started boxing.” He pauses, looking towards you. “But I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to paint, or maybe to sing. I’ve always loved singing.”
At that you do move. You take off the helmet, and the sight of your bloodshot eyes as tears roll freely on your cheeks makes him want to reach out, to hold you.
But he doesn’t dare do it, doesn’t want to take advantage of you.
“I’ve never heard you sing,” you say, voice raucous from crying.
He shrugs. “I don’t sing in front of people.”
You nod, and then fall into silence as you just look to the side. Jungkook looks in the same direction, watching the rain fall on and on, endlessly. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to let up anytime soon, so he figures he needs to say something else, to find something that might take the pain away from your eyes. And so he thinks about the rest of the story, thinks about what he left out from what he just told you.
“My dad was an alcoholic,” he admits, and your face turns towards him so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if you got whiplashed. “He beat my mom whenever he got too drunk. Never once touched me or my brother. But when I was old enough, when I finally knew how to fight, I protected her.”
What you do then entirely undoes Jungkook. He feels raw, like everything inside of him opens up, and he’s just left with this downpour of emotions, something that matches the rain beyond the bridge, this safe haven he’s found with you.
You put your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. To hold him, to keep him from breaking. Or at least that’s what it feels like.
It feels like you’re his salvation, and he knows you’ve always been anyway.
“He beat me so hard I ended up in the hospital,” Jungkook continues. “We fled the day I got out. My mom, my brother and I. We never once looked back.”
“I’m sorry,” you murmur.
He shrugs. “Please don’t be. I’m okay now.”
You don’t answer anything to that, just hold him tighter. And Jungkook watches the rain, listens to the soothing sound of it, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know why he chose this moment to reveal his demons to you – why he chose to make this about him. He feels horrible for it, but when you look at him next, he wonders if maybe you needed to hear something of the sort.
Needed to know that though there are horrors in this world, one can always make it out of it if they keep pushing on.
“You’re a beautiful person, inside,” you tell him. “I should have realized before.”
The lump in his throat grows too big for him to swallow it, and a tear rolls down his cheek. You dry it with infinite softness, and then you share a look. It seems to last an eternity, but you eventually glance away, and he thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe.
“Looks like the rain has stopped,” you say as your gaze stops on the street beyond the bridge.
Jungkook snaps out of the moment, looking in the same direction. “Seems so.”
His voice is rough, raw and filled with emotions he never expected he’d face with you. Yet he did, and he’s not afraid. He just hopes he can bring you comfort tonight, so that you aren’t afraid, too. So that you know that, even though the next few days are going to be hell, you don’t have to face them alone.
“Where is that place you wanted to show me?”
He smiles through the emotions, through the pain and the fear and the memory of what you and Yoongi are – were. Of what he and Yoongi are. Of what they will be when you’ll eventually go home to Yoongi. Though he doesn’t think you’ll really go home to Yoongi. After what Yoongi’s done…
The fear doubles up, freezes up his blood. Because what if he’s the one you leave behind? What if you forgive Yoongi, and Yoongi forgives you? He knows you both love each other. Or at least he knows you love Yoongi.
Will you even break up with Yoongi?
And even if you don’t, does he want to leave you alone tonight?
He chooses not to, getting up and offering you a hand. You take it, and he pulls you to your feet. Holds your gaze as you stand right in front of him, not letting go of his hand. He looks at your lips, remembering kissing you. Remembering every searing kiss, every embrace he’s hoped meant more.
Did they mean anything to you? Only time will tell.
You step back, letting go of his hand, and take off his jacket so that he can put it back on. He wants to refuse, but you’re adamant. So he gives in, puts it back on, and then you’re back on the road, heading to the ocean. Jungkook didn’t realize how much time passed until you get to the spot overlooking the sea, and the horizon is slightly lighter than the sky overhead.
You stand by the ocean, wind whipping at your hair, but the rain is entirely gone now. The air is warmer than one would expect for a late night or early morning of May, though the ocean mist is freezing. You don’t seem like you care: you stand by the water, watching the waves hit the rock as if you’re a queen overlooking her subjects.
And Jungkook watches you, unable to tear his gaze away from you, until you start crying again. But you cry in silence, don’t let the sobs shake you, as you stare at the horizon. As you watch the sun as it slowly rises, painting the clouds in liquid gold. You watch the beauty of nature, while Jungkook watches yours, wondering if this is one of his last moments with you.
He’ll let you go if that’s what you want. If, in the end, you and Yoongi choose each other.
So he watches your features, watches you break, watches you compose yourself until the clouds are no longer gold, and you ask him to go home. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of, only that he feels like the clock is about to hit its last second, and he wants to hold on.
But he’ll let you go.
*****
                You watch the sunrise from that cliff over the ocean, listening to the waves crashing against the rocks. You understand why Jungkook brought you here – there’s some sort of serenity in the air, like your life is inconsequential.
Like breaking and healing and breaking again are just part of the cycle of nature, of life. Like the sunrise – it doesn’t stop. Every day it comes back, a promise that no pain can last forever. So you embrace the pain. Let it tear at you. You’d expected to break in screams and yells and sobs and curses, but you break in tears, silently rolling down your cheeks. You break in watching the sunrise, peacefully, just an astral body fully unaware of your woes.
And you also break for the man next to you. Who offered you a piece of his soul tonight, so that you wouldn’t be alone. Though his pain is different, older, there’s some sort of comfort in knowing that you alone don’t hold the weight of the universe.
And as you watch the sunrise, you realize that everyone suffers. That the human experience stems from suffering, as it’s the only way you can also know happiness. The only way you can taste the salt on the wind and think ‘Shit, I’m alive’.
The world is beautiful. And though going home will be hell, though facing Yoongi will be hell, you remind yourself that you’re alive. You prepare yourself for the ride home, breathing in the sun and the wind and the ocean. When you’re ready, you turn towards Jungkook, and ask him to bring you home.
He looks troubled, but perhaps he notices the serenity on your features. Perhaps he’s too felt the soothing balm of the sunrise, of endings and new beginnings. Because he brings you home, his bike purring under you as it eats miles and miles to the city, and then some more to your home.
Jungkook drops you off outside, and you give him back the helmet you’ve been using all night. He takes it, putting it safely under the seat. You watch him do so, and ache fills your heart once he climbs back on his bike.
He looks at you, and your gazes connect through his open visor.
“Thank you for tonight,” you tell him.
You think he gulps, but you’re starting to be a little too tired to interpret him. “Of course,” he says. He adds your name, before continuing, “I didn’t want you to be alone.”
You smile at him, though you reckon it’s etched in sadness. Etched in heaviness. You wonder if his heart shares the burden, if he feels just like you do. And you wonder if he too has been breaking all night.
“Thank you,” you repeat.
He nods, and you watch him blink a few times. You’re fully aware he’s blinking back tears, yet you don’t do anything. Just watch him.
“If you need me, I’m just a call away,” he says.
You can’t say anything. Because you don’t think you’d be able to be with him, to find comfort in him. Not when he might have been the catalyst to this whole shitshow. So all you do is nod, and he looks at you for a moment longer until he finally decides to go.
He pulls down his visor, turning towards the street. And then he’s gone.
As you watch him go, farewells hanging in the air, you tuck him into a corner of your heart. Somewhere safe, somewhere nothing ever happened between you and him. Somewhere untainted, pure, and then you whisper, looking at where he disappeared, “Goodbye, Jungkook.”
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:((((( gosh this one is so sad :') (it might only get worse from here). What did we think? Did we like it? Let me know!
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