#I don’t even know what his line of thought was

[gumii-bearr]

❝ not even a little ❞

summary: megumi fushiguro is your roommate, he's also a scary guy... a scary guy that's weak for you.

featuring... megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, roommate!megumi, college!au, angst, fluff!!, alcohol, vomiting (from being so drunk), mentions of weed, hangovers, reader cries a few times, slow burn ish, these two are pissing me off, smut, dirty talk, cunnilingus, blowjobs, handjobs, fingering, cum eating, virginity loss (?), mentions of a cheating ex (there is Hana slander im sorry), emotionally stunted megumi, swearing, megumi is so bad at feelings oh my god, ozawa x yuji mentions

word count: 13.8k

author's note: MEOW– guys i been working hard on this FUCKER!

You’re pretty sure he hates you.

Your new roommate, that is. 

“Fushiguro, right?” You led with friendliness, hoping to win him over with your charming personality and half the share of the rent. But he was beyond intimidating, standing at the front door, eyes slanted and harsh with boredom. His hair was messy but it almost seemed intentional with how much it complimented and framed his angular face.

He was gorgeous.

Yuko had neglected to tell you just how attractive your new roommate would be when she sent you the address the day before. Though, it made sense that she wouldn’t notice since she’s dating Itadori, not his old roommate.

He looked you up and down as you stood at his front door, a nervous smile twinging at your lips as an awkward tension consumed you. Though he didn’t seem overly bothered by the awkwardness, simply humming in acknowledgement of his name before standing aside to let you into his apartment.

It was nice; very organised for a guy, you thought. He wordlessly led you to your new room, which was Yuji’s old room, and gave you the rundown of the rent and utilities while you tried to not melt at the deep smoothness of his voice.

What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

“You didn’t tell me he was hot, Ozawa,” you grumble as you tighten the group head into the coffee machine. It’s quiet in the cafe that day, just you and Yuko behind the counter trying to shake off your lack of sleep with iced coffees and fries from the stainless steel bowl sitting at the kitchen window. The line chef doesn’t care that you’re stealing the fries, too busy scrolling on his phone and attempting to blink away his hangover.

Yuko takes a sip of her coffee, her brows knit in confusion, “who?”

“Fushiguro,” you clarify, pressing buttons on the coffee machine.

Yuko was your friend from high school and she was the one that hooked you up with the apartment. All she told you was that he was Yuji’s best friend and old roommate before she and Yuji moved in together. She told you he was in his second year of college, he needed help with the rent and that he was a nice guy.

“You told me he was nice, too.”

“Fushiguro is nice,” Yuko retorts, restocking the paper cups next to the coffee machine.

You give her a look, “nice my ass.”

“You just said he was hot!” she laughs at that, nudging your shoulder playfully.

“You can be hot and mean at the same time, they’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Mm,” she hums, “sounds like your type.”

“Rude,” you mutter.

The bell above the door dings, your eyes peeking over the coffee machine to spot Yuji walking in with a wide smile, “hi baby!”

Yuko grins, “Hey, Yuji.” She leans over the counter, allowing Yuji to press a kiss against her cheek with a loud muah!

“What’s up?” Yuji asks curiously, letting his chin rest in his own palm.

“Y/N was just telling me about her first night in her new place,” Yuko replies.

“Ooh!” Yuji sings.

“She said he’s hot,” Yuko giggles.

A big smile spills across Yuji’s face and he teasingly wiggles his brows, “you got a crush?”

“No,” you say defensively. “I don’t even know him.”

“You can crush on someone and not know them,” Yuji shrugs.

“I don’t think you can.”

Yuji tuts, “ah-ah! Jennifer Lawrence, I don’t know her, but I have a crush on her.”

You look to Yuko, “you gonna let him say that?”

Yuko shrugs sheepishly, “I have a crush on her too so I think it’s okay.”

Yuji points at her, “see?”

You just playfully roll your eyes, “but seriously… What's the secret? Cus I think he already wants me to move out.”

“Fushiguro just takes time to warm up to people,” Yuji explains. “Just give it time.”

You wonder how long it’ll take for him to warm up to you. You’re a friendly person and you’re pretty bubbly but he just intimidates the hell out of you. But his apartment was way nicer than any of the other apartments near campus. And bonus points because the rent was rather cheap compared to other places you’d seen. So you can’t screw this up.

But again, you’re pretty sure he hated you.

He was always grumbling around and seemed to get annoyed when you would put the dishes away in the wrong spots (though he never outright told you this). And he seemed to get annoyed when you were in a shared space, either sitting down on the floor in front of the TV to study or at the kitchen counter with your textbooks strewn about. 

But no way in hell were you going to poke the bear and ask him if he hated you.

Because Megumi Fushiguro was a scary guy.

You think you’ve screwed yourself when Megumi makes a bee-line for you a few weeks later.

You’re sitting at your desk in your room with the door slightly open. You’re focused on the essay you’re trying to edit but it’s hard to ignore the dark and brooding cloud that is Megumi Fushiguro.

“You touch my shit?” He asks. It doesn’t sound mean or accusing but just the depth of his voice alone makes you nervous.

“Huh?” You squeak out, eyes shifting nervously.

“My clothes,” he holds out a folded shirt for emphasis, his other hand holding your door frame (and jesus christ his muscles look so good).

Fuck.

You gulp, “u-uh, yeah, I did. I needed more darks so I just… used some of yours…”

Megumi just stares at you, steely eyes narrow and harsh.

You smile sheepishly, though it’s not really a smile, more of a nervous twitch in your lips, “I’m sorry–”

“Just,” Megumi starts before he sighs, “don’t touch my shit.”

You nod quickly, “right. I’m sorry.”

It’s funny. 

You’ve only been here for a few weeks and Megumi is growing more and more frustrated by you. 

How you always manage to be there when he’s trying to use the shower or the kitchen or do his laundry. He realises the irony given you’re his fucking roommate but he can’t cope with this shit.

He finds himself staring when you walk around in tiny shorts and tight tank tops. Or when you slink down the hallway wrapped in a towel like he can’t see you. Or when you stretch your arms above your head while you’re studying, your shirt riding up and giving him the perfect few of your tummy–

Megumi stands outside the bathroom door, towel and a change of clothes in hand. 

He knew girls took a while in the shower but this? You’d been in there for around fifteen minutes, the shower running and your music playing softly from inside. Megumi and Yuji used to function fine with one bathroom between the two of them, but sharing with you, a girl, proved to be a little different.

“M’so sorry,” you squeak as you pull the door open, your hair wet and combed back, your face free of your usual makeup. 

“S’fine,” Megumi murmurs. 

You quickly duck your head and slink away and Megumi just fucking stares. His breath gets caught in his throat at the sight of your towel pulled tight around your body, giving him a perfect view of the outline of your ass. His eyes raked over your bare shoulders and he almost felt dizzy at the lingering smell of your strawberry scented shampoo.

Megumi coughed into his fist, feeling a certain stiffness in his pants making itself known. It’d been a while since he got laid so he’d just deal with it using a cold shower and thinking about violent video games or something.

You’re finding you have the same problem.

You feel your face flush when he comes home from the gym in compression shirts and sweatpants, an earbud stuck in his ear and his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. And you just sit there in the living room gawking like an idiot as he mumbles an annoyed ‘hey’ then proceeds to ignore you the rest of the night.

He’s caught you staring a few times, especially when you’re waiting for him to get out of the shower so you can use the bathroom and he emerges wrapped in nothing but a towel, his hair dripping water down his pale chest.

And you totally check him out before slapping a hand over your eyes, cheeks flushed as you squeak out an embarrassed, “sorry!”

He just rolls his eyes with a huff and disappears into his room, leaving you to bang your head against the wall because you’re so dumb.

Yuji was right, you do have a crush.

It’s truly a tragic predicament because he seems to have no interest in you. He barely acknowledges you, humming when you greet him and brushing past you when you’re using a shared space at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s actively avoiding you.

“I made you a coffee,” you’re trying to break the ice somehow because Megumi is so unbelievably unreadable that it hurts.

Megumi looks at you, half-lidded eyes tired and bored as he studies your nervous expression. You place the mug of hot coffee on the counter next to his set up of textbooks, notebooks, pens and his laptop.

You fiddle with your hands, “it’s just coffee and milk, I didn’t know if you wanted sugar–”

“Thanks,” he simply says, nodding with a tight-lipped smile before sticking his earbud back in his ear.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment before you awkwardly shuffle off to your room. Completely missing how Megumi watches you leave.

Once midterms roll around, Megumi disappears off the face of the earth. You don’t see him for weeks because he’s either cooped up in his room or he stays late on campus and you hear him get home at stupid hours of the night.

The next time you see him is at a party.

The frat house you’re at is packed with college students all at varying stages of drunkenness. You’ve maybe had half a drink, deciding to hide away in the kitchen and people-watch. Yuji and Yuko convinced you to come along since midterms were over and the stress swallowing the entire college campus had seemed to somewhat dissipate. 

One party wouldn’t hurt. 

“Yooo! Y/N you made it!” Yuji exclaims, an arm thrown around Yuko’s shoulders, the two of them clutching red plastic cups full of some mysteriously coloured alcohol. 

“Yeah, I thought I’d try and make some friends,” you reply as Yuko hands you a drink.

“Damn, then what are we?” Yuji’s teases, gesturing between himself and Yuko.

You roll your eyes playfully, “more friends, Itadori,” you clarify.

Yuji was a guy that was easy to get along with, always making friends no matter where he went. You became fast friends with Yuji after he and Yuko started dating since you were instrumental in convincing Yuko to give her number to him way back when.

“You and Fushiguro friends yet?” Yuko asked curiously, slightly yelling over the music.

You grit your teeth, “don’t think so. I put the dishes away wrong once and I think he’s hated me ever since.”

Yuji blows a raspberry, “yeah right, you should try and talk to him tonight, maybe hit on him, hm?” Yuji wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“Why tonight?” You ask curiously.

“Cus he looks lonely,” Yuji points to the other end of the room.

You follow his finger and spot that familiar mop of messy black hair rather quickly. He’s leaning against the wall cradling a drink and damn he looks good in the black shirt he’s wearing, allowing you to totally check out and gawk at his lean muscular arms. He looks beyond bored, his steely blue eyes scanning the crowd with complete disinterest.

You didn’t even know he was coming to this thing and now you’re suddenly motivated to stay.

You gulp down the lump in your throat before squeezing the plastic cup of whatever the fuck in your hand. You lift it to your lips and chuck it back, the bitter alcohol burning your throat on the way down. 

“Atta girl!” Yuji exclaims, “go get your man!”

“You’re for the girls, you know that, Yuji?” You grin.

“I’ve been told,” he beams happily. 

You take Yuko’s drink off her and quickly throw hers back too, needing some liquid courage to get you over there because at least if you say something stupid, you can blame it on the alcohol. 

“Okay, maybe don’t overdo it,” Yuko pats your shoulder.

You take in a breath before nodding and squeezing past your friends, making your way toward your roommate. You didn’t even know he would be at this party, that’s how little you talk to one another. Yet you find yourself getting nervous and stupid around him. 

You’re barely five meters away from him when you stop dead in your tracks.

A blonde girl approaches Megumi, her shoulder bumping his as she leans against the wall next to him. He eyes her before taking a sip of his drink. You don’t hear what she says but he seems vaguely amused by it and you find yourself almost jealous that some random girl managed to get more emotion out of Megumi in the last two seconds than you have in the past two months.

Your heart thumps in your chest and you suddenly feel small and ridiculous. You clear your throat and quickly spin on your heel, heart thumping in your ears as you pick up another drink of whatever crazy jungle juice they’re serving at this frat party and chuck it back. 

He doesn’t even know it and he just crushed your spirit. 

“Uh oh,” Yuji grits his teeth.

“Why’s she coming back?” Yuko asks Yuji.

“I’m going to stand on a highway,” you grin maniacally. Yuko and Yuji peer behind you and spot the same blonde girl talking to Megumi, only this time she’s turned toward him, giving him her undivided attention as she yaps on about something. Megumi still seems vaguely uninterested but he nods along slowly.

“Yikes,” Yuji cringes, “not him talking to his ex.”

“Ex?” you squeak out.

Yuko nudges Yuji’s shoulder, giving him a ‘what the fuck, bro?’ look. Yuji quickly stammers, “I-I mean, they’ve been broken up for like two years, there’s nothing there.”

You don’t believe him for a second because it certainly didn’t look like nothing. You peek back over your shoulder and watch as Megumi chugs the rest of his drink and leaves, the blonde girl trailing behind him. Great, they’re gonna go have sex and you’re stuck having a crush on your roommate who will probably kick you out when he gets back with her. 

Great.

Great.

You turn back to Yuji and Yuko with a wide-eyed nervous smile.

Yuji grits his teeth, “you okay, Y/N?”

You squeak, “mhm, so good!”

Yuko and Yuji share a look with each other before Yuko sighs, “he’s not worth it anyway, you’re a catch, if he can’t see it then he’s stupid.”

You know she’s trying to make you feel better and you’re a relatively confident person, but when you start to crush on someone and they don’t offer any kind of reciprocation for your feelings, you start to feel a little… not so confident. 

Yuko and Yuji try to make you feel better, introducing you to their other friend Nobara who is much more aggressive in her pep talk.

“You’re a hot, sexy mama!” Nobara shakes your shoulders, her speech slurred slightly. “Who cares about that emo hoe anyway!”

You want to laugh but she honestly kind of scares you.

“You gotta get laid by some other guy! A hot guy!” Nobara hiccups, taking another swig from her cup. “Maybe fuck your ex or something! Or, or, or! Fuck one of Fushiguro’s classmates!”

“Uh, I don’t think losing my virginity at a party is exactly ideal,” you reply.

Nobara’s eyes bulge out of her head, “you’re a virgin!?” She says it so loud that a few heads turn and you shush her quickly.

“Tell the whole campus why don’t you?” You scold in a hushed tone.

“You’re hot though, babe,” she hiccups again. “You could pull anyone!”

“Funny.”

“I’m serious!”

You let loose after that, deciding to drink and do shots to avoid thinking about Megumi as if you don’t keep looking for him all night. You’re always peeking over your shoulder, searching for him in the crowd and flat out ignoring the guys Nobara and Yuko attempt to introduce you to. 

You’re not interested in the pre-med students or the business students or whatever the fuck.

You’re more interested in the tall, lean, handsome vet student who happens to be your roommate and who you haven’t seen all night.

After many more rounds of shots, a game of beer pong and poorly deciding to bet Yuji you could drink him under the table; you’re so drunk. You stumble around the party, hanging off Yuji, Nobara and Yuko since they are clearly equally as drunk as you with how they encourage your behaviour. 

Your head is fucking spinning and you feel like you’re going to be sick.

You stumble around the house, clutching the wall and stair bannister as you attempt to find the bathroom. You open a few random doors, spotting people making out, some other people fighting before you finally find the bathroom, bile rising in your throat and your vision going fuzzy. You find a bunch of people smoking what smells like weed in the bathroom, the smell hitting you in the face like a brick wall. 

They all start yelling at you to shut the door and you quickly slam it shut before you stumble back down the stairs, racing to the back door as you feel the vomit start to claw up your throat. You shove the door open, the outside air freezing cold and nipping at your hot skin. 

You half crawl toward the back fence, your stupid heels betraying you as you pathetically fall to your knees and throw your guts up in the garden.

Your brain is on fire and your stomach aches as you throw up all the alcohol in your system. You really shouldn’t have been mixing your alcohols, but Nobara was so convincing and Megumi had just stomped on your heart.

You suddenly feel two cold hands against your head, brushing over your ears as they pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail, holding it out of your face as you throw up. You’re thankful to whatever stranger is helping you out right now because you feel awful.

Tears prick at your eyes, a mix of tears and mascara running down your face because you really fucking hate throwing up and you really hate Megumi Fushiguro right now.

“You okay?” The man’s voice is distant and a little fuzzy.

You wave him off, “m’fine.”

“You’re crying,” he says softly, listening as you sniffle and wipe your tears away with the ball of your palm. There’s a pause, the man still holding your hair back, “why’re you crying?”

You shrug, “cus I’m sick and I’m s’drunk and some stoners yelled at me and roommate is an ass.”

He hums, “what’d he do? …Your roommate?”

“Nothing,” you whine with a soft sniffle.

“Nothing?” He repeats, his voice sounding slightly amused.

“Nothing,” you say again, “that’s the problem.”

There’s a pause. “Why’s that a problem?”

You groan quietly, “why’re you grillin’ me? I’m s’drunk.”

He chuckles softly, “right, sorry.”

You don’t even know this guy and you immediately start rambling, “my friends helped me find a roommate and everyone neglected to tell me he ws’ hot! And I’m tryin’ to get him to like, notice me, but he’s so mean and I’m like ninety-nine percent sure he hates me. Then he was with his ex at this party right before I ws’ gonna go talk to him! Can you believe that?”

“Wow, he is an ass,” the man says matter-of-factly, validating your feelings.

“Thank you,” you slur before you feel your tummy do a flip and you’re throwing up in the garden again. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, smearing your lipgloss messily. You sniffle again, “m’sorry stranger.”

“S’okay,” he rubs your shoulder, still holding your hair back.

You wake up the next morning with the most vicious headache. 

You roll over with a groan, your head pounding and your mouth tasting of acid and whatever the hell was in that jungle juice last night. You press your face into your pillow and groan softly, your entire body feeling like shit. After a few painful seconds, you pry your eyes open, your vision fuzzy and your eyes sore. 

You’re in your bed.

Now how the fuck did you get here?

You sit up slowly, your head pounding and spinning with a wonderfully terrible hangover. You spot your shoes on the floor of your room, neatly sitting next to your desk along with your folded jacket. You half remember someone taking you home, maybe it was Yuji? Fuck, you better thank him.

You take your phone off your side table (which was miraculously put on charge last night) and search for Yuko’s number, you press her name and the phone rings a few times before she answers.

“H-Hello?” Yuko groans, her voice saturated with exhaustion.

“Are you as lucid as I am?” You cringe, rubbing your eyes with the ball of your palm.

You hear Yuko muffle a groan into her pillow, clearly as insanely hungover as you, “we got so drunk.”

“Is Itadori okay?” you ask with a wince.

“He’s throwing up in the shower right now,” she replies.

“That’s rough,” you want to laugh but it hurts too much.

“Well he did crash the beer pong and drank half a bottle of midori so,” she trails off.

“Can you tell him thanks for taking me home?” you sigh.

Yuko pauses, “Yuji didn’t take you home.”

Huh?

“What?” you sit up in bed.

“Babe, Yuji was so drunk he tried to pet a rat in the street, he did not take you home,” she says.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Then who did?”

“Y/N… Fushiguro took you home.”

What?

—

Megumi nurses a drink in his hand as he watches you from across the room. He can’t help the way his chest tightens as he hears you laugh at something Yuji says, your nose scrunching cutely as you let out a bubbly laugh. 

He also can’t help the way his eyes drift down your body, thinking you look cute with your hair done like that. You’re usually wearing baggy sweaters and shorts around the house, he’s never seen this outfit before and he really likes it.

He thinks you look pretty. You always look pretty but this outfit in particular has him short-circuiting like a teenager. 

He thinks back to when he got unnecessarily mad at you over washing his clothes and how he’ll never fucking admit it but they smelled so good. He’s not sure what the hell you used to wash them but they smelled amazing, they smelled like you.

Megumi has to tear his eyes away when his gaze drops to your cute little ass in that mini skirt. He feels like a perv. He lives with you for god sake, he can’t be thinking such things about his roommate. Not when he has to live with you for the next few years. 

Megumi takes a long swig of his drink, attempting to stifle the thoughts with terrible tasting alcohol and pure willpower. 

“Didn’t think I’d ever see Megumi Fushiguro at a party.”

Megumi has to stop himself from rolling his eyes when he hears her voice. 

Hana leans against the wall beside him with a sly grin on her face, her shoulder bumping his. He knows she’s doing it just to annoy him, of course she is. 

“Why’re you talking to me?” Megumi grumbles out, refusing to give her the satisfaction of eye contact as he sips on his drink because he’s gonna need alcohol or a fucking hammer to the head to get him through this interaction.

“Can’t say hi to my ex-boyfriend?” She teases, leaning her head toward him.

Megumi rolls his eyes for real this time, “you’ve said hi.”

“Oh, boo, you’re so not fun,” Hana playfully shoves his shoulder.

Megumi lets out a huffed fake laugh, “I’m really torn up about it.”

Hana talks to him about some random bullshit and Megumi isn’t even listening because he knows she’s drunk and she would be stupid to approach him sober. His eyes are instead glued to you, feeling himself get slightly jealous when Yuji puts a hand on your back to lead to toward the kitchen–

“–and you’re still mad,” Hana slurs. Megumi didn’t hear a word she said up until now.

Megumi side-eyes her, feeling rather annoyed by her incessant nagging, “you done?”

Hana rolls her eyes, “I’m just saying you could at least have a civil conversation.”

Megumi feels his eye twitch, “I think you lose civil-conversation privileges when you– I don’t know– lie and cheat?”

Hana scoffs and Megumi decides he doesn’t want to listen to her bullshit anymore and promptly walks off, shoving his hands in his pockets as he attempts to lose Hana in the crowd. She follows him around like some stupid puppy for a while before growing bored, probably going off to annoy some other poor sucker.

She also seems to lose interest when she notices Megumi simply doesn’t care anymore. She does this sometimes, drunkenly messaging him every few months only for him to promptly block her account without a word. He’s starting to think she’s the one that won’t move on.

Megumi sighs when he steps outside into the backyard, sitting down on the edge of the porch and deciding to look busy by scrolling on his phone. It’s quieter outside, the backyard mostly empty apart from a few people smoking cigarettes and vaping by the back fence.

Megumi Fushiguro is lonely.

Lonely in the sense that after Hana, he became decidedly more stoic and standoffish. She was his first serious girlfriend and he was stupid and naive for so long before Yuji and Nobara pointed out the rather obvious red flags that Megumi was painfully unaware of.

Because he was young and she was a little older, so she had to know better, right?

Maybe he really was too clingy and maybe he really did need to stop asking to hang out all the time. He felt utterly stupid when he found out she was cheating on him. It made sense, he was too clingy, too needy, too much.

Megumi reverted back in on himself for a long time, becoming sad and angry before he just stopped giving a shit.

He did a lot to forget about the anger and pain he felt from Hana.

He slept around to forget about her, becoming reserved and aloof over time. He eventually did get over it because why the fuck was it his fault that she cheated on him?

But the things she made him feel about himself lingered. 

Made him wonder if he really was too needy and clingy to be a good boyfriend. Maybe he wasn’t respectful enough of a person’s space and he needed to stop trying so hard. 

He didn’t go on dates much, everyone always thought he was too mean or rude to ever ask a girl on a date. Sure he slept with girls but they were quick to leave right after with a “yeah, yeah… I can call you if you want?”

If you want.

He just felt embarrassed, letting them gather their clothes and leave his apartment or usher him out of theirs while half-assed promising to text him later. Megumi didn’t know who was using who at that point.

Megumi is shaken from his thoughts when a body almost falls into him. He goes to argue with whoever the fuck can’t watch their step when he sees you.

Your shoes half fall off as you crawl toward the back fence to hurl up everything in your stomach. Megumi quickly slips his phone in his pocket and strides across the lawn toward you. 

You’re totally out of it.

Megumi pulls your hair out of your face as you vomit, tears slipping down your cheeks. Your skirt is riding up and your top is pulled low on your chest. 

“You okay?” Megumi asks softly, maybe one of the very few things he’s ever said to you. He gently adjusts your top, pulling the strap back onto your shoulder and pulling it up a little to cover the lacy material of your bra. You obviously don’t realise you’re compromising yourself and he adjusts himself behind you to cover your skirt as it rides up your thighs.

There are guys who are nudging each other and pointing at you and Megumi’s gaze hardens on them, suddenly feeling agitated.

“M’fine,” you mumble out with a soft sniffle.

Megumi’s heart melts, “why’re you crying?”

You proceed to sniffle and pout while you tell him all about how your roommate is an ass… without realising you’re talking to your roommate.

He thinks it’s cute, finding you so adorably amusing with how animatedly you speak despite being rather drunk and sick. He finds it sad though that it took you being so drunk for him to sum up enough courage to talk to you.

It scared him how you made his heart hammer in his chest, how your mere gaze on him suddenly made him nervous. But he couldn’t stop himself from staring. You were too cute with your dorky little grin as you stood at his front door telling him all about how you were his new roommate. He made a mental note to curse Yuji out for not telling him Yuko’s friend was a pretty girl and not the six foot two fucking pro wrestler guy he made you sound like.

You can’t possibly have any more to throw up, your skin feverish and clammy as your fingers curl into the grass below you. Megumi rubs your shoulder gently before he feels you slump against him, sniffling and tiredly whimpering beside him.

Megumi goes stiff, unsure of what to do with you. 

He should probably take you home.

“M’gonna take you home, okay?” Megumi says, feeling your body go a little more limp as you nod and pout in response.

Megumi easily picks you up, your legs dangling and your head falling against his chest, then he feels like he can’t breathe.

You look so pretty even when your skin flushes a little pale from being so sick and your baby hairs stick to your clammy skin. He carries you around the side of the house to avoid taking you back through the loud ass party.

You don’t make a peep as Megumi sits you in the passenger seat of his car, your head falling against the car window as he pulls your seatbelt over your shoulder, clipping it by your waist. He quickly sends Yuji a message to let him know he’s taking you home, though he doubts Yuji will pay attention to his phone since he seemed to be having a really good time taking shots and singing bad karaoke.

The car ride is silent and all Megumi can think about is what you said.

Maybe he kind of was being an ass to you. He hadn’t made much of an effort to get to know you or make you feel welcome because, in all honesty, you freak him out with how you made him feel without even trying.

So instead, he ignores you.

Pretending he doesn’t notice how your tongue pokes out from between your lips when you’re deep in focus, or how you always wear fuzzy socks around the house when you don’t have classes, or how you do a little jump to reach things on the higher shelves (which makes him melt), or how you still look at him with such kindness despite how piss poor he behaves around you.

Megumi holds you close as he opens your bedroom door, pushing it the rest of the way open to set you down on your bed. Your hair is messy and your clothes are disheveled, a little pout on your cute little lips as you sway slightly. 

You fall back onto your bed, your head hitting the soft pillow. Megumi sighs before sitting on the edge of your bed, large hands reaching to pull your shoes off for you. 

Your feet look like they hurt, little red blisters forming on your heels and toes. He gently pulls your shoes off and sets them down by your bedside table. You sigh with relief at the feeling of having your feet free of their heel prison. 

Megumi breathes softly and just studies you for a moment. It’s dark in your room but he can see the gentle outline of your face and the curve of your cheek. Your room is quiet apart from your soft breaths and Megumi prays you can’t hear his thumping heart. 

Megumi lets his eyes wander, unable to tear his gaze away from the soft lacy hem of your bra peeking over your top. His breath hitches in his throat and he suddenly feels disgusting for wondering if your panties match your bra— He closes his eyes, biting the inside of his lip.

You whine in your sleep, some of your hair falling in front of your face as you squirm. Without thinking, he reaches up and tucks some of your hair behind your ear, thumb brushing over your cheek.

You stir at the feeling and Megumi pulls away, scared he woke you.

“Mm, where’m I?” you slur, eyes still pressed closed.

“You’re home, don’t worry,” Megumi replies softly.

“Mm, okay,” you breathe, “thanks, Yuji…”

Megumi’s heart sinks but his face remains unchanged. Of course you’d think Yuji took you home, he’s your friend. Why would you Megumi do something like that for you?

He pulls away from you with a quiet sigh, “get some sleep, Y/N.”

—

“How do you know he took me home?” You ask, shaking your head slightly as you restock the mini fridge under the counter with milk.

You managed to shake off the hangover after three days of staying curled up in bed drinking water, throwing back ibuprofen and watching kitchen nightmares on your laptop with all the lights off. But now you’re back at work being blinded by the awful fluorescent lights and smelling of burnt coffee.

Yuko presses a button on the coffee machine, “he texted Yuji, told him he was gonna take you home,” Yuko replies, her hands on her hips.

You let out a shaky sigh, eyebrows furrowed in confusion because why would Megumi have taken you home when he seems so perpetually annoyed by you?

And how did he even find you? You remember the smell of the weed in the bathroom and people yelling at you, then you remember stumbling into the backyard like a bumbling fool, then— 

Oh, no.

“I don’t even know where you went, you’re lucky Fushiguro kept an eye on you–”

“No!” You suddenly squeak.

Yuko gives you a dazed look, “what? What happened?”

You press your hands to your face, drawing out a muffled groan because it just fucking dawned on you who held your hair back in the garden that night.

“It was him!”

“What are you talking about? Who?”

“Fushiguro! He held my hair back in the garden! I called him an ass!” you whine.

Yuko pauses for a moment before she just starts laughing, pressing her hand to her mouth to muffle the sound. You look up at her with the most offended look on your face.

You throw a rag at her, “don’t laugh! I was so mean!”

“That’s one way to break the ice,” she giggles, flinching away from you as you playfully swat at her leg with another rag.

“Ozawa…” you whine, “he must be so mad at me.”

“He still took you home after that though? I think you’re overthinking it.”

“He should have left me there in that damp backyard in my own vomit!” you say dramatically. “No wonder he thinks I’m a fucking idiot.”

“I really doubt he thinks that,” Yuko rolls her eyes, becoming sick of this beating-around-the-bush mantra you’ve got going on.  

“I have to pay all the rent for like, a year as an apology.”

“Can you even afford that?”

“No!”

You slug around for the rest of your shift, moping about behind the counter and wishing the ground would just swallow you whole. When the end of your shift rolls around, you feel more and more nervous about going home now that you’ve figured out you called Megumi an ass to his face.

Before you clean the coffee machine, you make a coffee to take home for him since he seems to always drink the coffees you make for him even if he seems annoyed by you interrupting his studying. 

Your hands are shaking as you unlock the front door, holding a cup of hot coffee and a cinnamon bun in a paper back in your other hand. Your heart is in your throat as you push the door open, peeking inside.

You see Megumi from the front door, he’s sitting at his desk in the living room, laptop open and a few notebooks stacked beside him. Classes haven’t even ramped back up yet and he’s already studying.

You kick your shoes off and shuffle down the hall, heartbeat thumping in your ears and suddenly feeling a chill down your spine at the idea of facing your roommate who you insulted.

You clear your throat, “uh, h-hey.”

Megumi has his earbuds in but he notices you standing there in the corner of his eyes. He takes his earbuds out, “you okay?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I got you a coffee.”

You place it down beside him. He doesn’t take his eyes off yours.

Your knees feel weak under his steely gaze. You quickly hand him the paper bag, “and a cinnamon bun.”

“Thanks,” he says simply.

There’s a long awkward pause before you huff out a shaky sigh, “listen, Fushiguro– I’m sorry about the other night when I like, threw up everywhere and called you an ass–”

“S’fine,” Megumi replies blankly.

“No, really, I was mean and rude and I didn’t mean it–”

“I know, idiot,” he cuts you off again, “seriously, it’s fine.”

Your lips form a tight line, eyebrows furrowed with worry because it’s not fine. You want to say more but you’re pretty sure Megumi doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. Which is understandable, you’re just happy he hasn’t kicked you out yet.

You toy with your fingers for a moment before you nod awkwardly, shuffling off toward your room. You miss as Megumi watches you leave again, feeling stupid for how bad he is at talking about his feelings.

You avoid Megumi like the plague after that.

You’re so utterly embarrassed by what you said and you can only imagine how mad he is about it but at least he’s doing you a favour by not mentioning it.

You disappear from any room he walks into, slinking by and apologising awkwardly when you take up too much time in the bathroom, or bowing your head and averting your gaze when he walks into the kitchen, you’re embarrassed and you feel awful, and it bothers you that Megumi is so vague and mysterious about how he feels about you, sure he took you home and pulled your dirty shoes off your feet and put you to bed. But he also gives you curt nods and vague responses that leave you wondering whether or not he likes you or just tolerates you. 

Are you friends? Just roommates? Does he like you? Does he hate you? 

You’ve got no earthly idea and the easiest way to survive in such a predicament is to just avoid the very thing that’s causing the problem. 

And Megumi is so damn annoyed by it.

At first it was him who was avoiding you, hiding away in his room so he didn’t have to interact with you and now that he knows you’ve been trying to get him to notice you, he’s been trying to linger around nearby and sort of force the proximity because he has no idea how to approach you like a normal fucking person. 

He reaches things for you on the top shelf when you can’t reach them, he makes sure to take your sweaters out of the washing machine so they don’t shrink, he even sets aside the caramel flavoured coffee pods for you because he knows they’re your favourite. 

He’s bad at all of this. The talking part.

What if you think he’s too needy or too clingy or too much? That would just embarrass him even more than he already is. 

Megumi lets you be, assuming that you’re probably regretting everything you said that night after he so blatantly blew you off when you brought home a coffee for him the other night.

But you talk again when your car doesn’t start.

“Fuck,” you groan, turning your key in the ignition for the third time in the past minute, the engine ticking, ticking, ticking before you give up. You whine and give a half-hearted punch to the steering wheel. 

You knew this would happen eventually. 

Your car is run down and sort of shitty. You have to basically shoulder check the driver’s side door to get it open and you can’t actually open one of the back doors anymore because it refuses to unlock. But you’re broke and the damn thing gets you from A to B, except for today.

It’s raining and your hair is stuck to your head from the mad dash you did from the front door to your car and now it won’t even start. 

You’re basically drenched when you step back inside the front door.

“I thought you left already?” Megumi questions from the kitchen, holding a bowl of cereal in his hand.

“My stupid car won’t– oh,” you cut yourself off when your eyes meet with Megumi clearly fresh out of the shower.

He’s wearing grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips and no shirt, little droplets of water slipping down his broad shoulders and chest from his slightly damp hair. He’s looking at you with a bored expression, waiting for you to continue.

You clear your throat and decide the ceiling is so very interesting, “u-uh, yeah, my car won’t start, ‘m just gonna walk–”

“You’re gonna walk?” Megumi’s eyes narrow.

“I mean I’m poor so,” you give a sheepish laugh.

Megumi rolls his eyes, putting the bowl of cereal down on the counter and turning on his heel to pull his black hoodie off the couch, slipping it over his head.

“We’ll take my car,” he says, grabbing his keys off the side table beside the couch.

Your eyes widen, “huh? What– no, it’s fine–”

“Walking in this weather would be dumb,” Megumi grumbles, “just get in my car, idiot.”

You press your mouth shut and do as you're told, trailing behind him as he picks up his umbrella by the door, holding it over your head as you take the short walk to his car. Megumi holds the umbrella completely over you, the heavy rain completely drenching his left shoulder.

“You’re getting wet,” you point out.

“M’aware,” he retorts without looking at you.

Your shoulder bumps with Megumi’s bicep given the height difference between you. You’ve never been this close to him before, well, at least not sober. You never realised how much taller he is than you, it makes you feel kind of safe.

Megumi unlocks his car and opens the door for you, holding the umbrella completely over you until you’re safe in the passenger seat of his car. You curl your fingers around your tote bag nervously, Megumi getting in the driver’s seat.

“Thank you,” you squeak out.

Megumi starts up his car, his car being one of those ones that has a push button to start instead of a key, “I don’t mind,” he shrugs.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, your heart punching against your chest. You take a breath before you look over at Megumi.

“Do you hate me, Fushiguro?”

The question just hangs there and Megumi feels his heart falter at such a question because no, he doesn’t hate you. Not even a little.

It upsets him that you think he hates you, that you think so little of yourself that you let yourself get torn up over what he thinks of you.

He had no idea he was coming off that way, that you genuinely thought he hated you. 

He opens his mouth to speak but it never comes out. He’s not sure what to say or what to do to make you see that hate is the furthest thing from his mind when it comes to you. But instead, Megumi’s mind is choked with thoughts and it’s so overwhelming that he just clutches the steering wheel and silently drives you to campus. 

He still hasn’t spoken when he parks the car.

The two of you are silent for a moment before he hears you sniffle, his heart snapping in two at the mere sound of it. 

“T-Thank you,” you murmur, quickly pushing the door open and shuffling out before Megumi can protest.

No. Fuck. No, he didn’t mean it like that.

“Y/N, wait,” he gets out of the driver’s side, umbrella clutched in his fist.

You’re holding your tote bag tight to your chest as you walk across the pavement in the pouring fucking rain. 

“Y/N!” Megumi is behind you, his hand curling around your upper arm and stopping you in your tracks.

You pause, turning to face him, eyes glassy and doe-like as you stare up at him, “what is it?” you force out. 

You both hope he says something, anything. He pants, his hair sticking to his face as his steely eyes show the first ounce of emotion you’ve seen from him. 

“Y-You…” Megumi doesn’t stammer, he never does. “Take it,” he holds out the umbrella for you.

A silence hangs between you and you sigh, taking the umbrella from his grasp and opening it above your head, leaving him there in the carpark. 

—

Megumi beat himself up over it for days.

He picks you up that same rainy afternoon, the two of you not uttering a single word to one another other than a ‘hey’ from him and a ‘thank you’ from you. He wants to tell you everything, that he’s really bad at talking about things and that he doesn’t hate you. 

He’s not sure how to prove it to you, the words dying in his throat the moment he shares a room with you for more than five seconds. He’s not sure what to say or how to say it.

Hana always told him he talked too much. Which was crazy because Megumi was a man of very few words. But when the two of them would fight, he was always so adamant at resolving the issue and getting to the root of the problem instead of just letting it hang in the air and choke him.

He sometimes wonders if that’s why she cheated.

You don’t talk to Megumi for a while. Feeling small and embarrassed about asking him such a question when you knew deep down it wasn’t true and you just wanted to hear it from him. 

But it hurt when he didn’t deny your question, when he just stayed silent and let you fuss over it for days. You’ve lost sleep, laying away at night and wondering if you should just talk to him. 

Megumi tries to approach you, he really does. 

He thinks about knocking on your bedroom door late at night but every time he finds himself standing outside, arm held up about to knock, he stops himself and wonders if he even deserves to talk to you. 

If he even deserves to try again. 

“I’m the best you’ll ever have.”

He knew it wasn’t true at face value. He knew Hana wasn’t good for him in the end, but it’s hard to ignore such bitterness coming from someone you used to love. 

“Hey, Yuko,” you greet softly, phone pressed to your ear. “Can I ask a favour?”

“Of course… you okay, Y/N?” Yuko asks slowly, her voice gentle.

You pause, “I just… I need a ride to campus until I can get my car fixed. Would you and Itadori mind if I tagged along? I’ll give you fuel money.”

Yuko pauses this time, “…You didn’t ask Fushiguro?”

You toy with your fingers nervously, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

She hums and nods, “We can take you, Y/N.” 

Yuko knows you well enough to know that something happened. You spoke so timidly and she could tell you were nervously fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater. She would talk to Yuji about it; hopefully he could knock some sense into his best friend. 

It's first thing Monday morning when you emerge from your room with your tote bag over your shoulder and your hair done in a messy claw clip. You look tired, bags forming under your eyes and you make a beeline for the door without even acknowledging Megumi. 

“Do you need a ride?” Megumi sits up straighter on the couch and holds his keys up as if he didn’t set an alarm just to take you to class. 

“Uh, no, thanks. Ozawa and Itadori are taking me,” you say sheepishly, barely offering him a glance. 

Megumi’s heart cracks a little. He wants to say something, tell you he’s sorry and ask if he can please take you to class. But he doesn’t, mouth staying shut as he nods quickly, “right. Okay.” 

You leave without another word, the apartment feeling awful and still without you. Megumi’s leg bounces nervously and his blunt nails scratch at the inside of his knee. He’s anxious and he wants to fix it so desperately but he feels like he’s only making it worse.

“Hey, Y/N,” Yuji greets with a warm smile.

You offer him a half smile before getting in the back seat. Yuko and Yuji share a look with one another before Yuji backs out of the apartment parking lot. There’s an intensity hanging in the air and you just stare out the window with a blank expression, vaguely paying attention to the music on the radio.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Yuji asks softly, eyeing you through the rearview mirror.

“M’fine,” you whisper back, too afraid to trust your voice.

“What happened?” Yuko reaches back between the seats to touch your knee affectionately. 

You shrug, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Yuko pulls her hand away from you and glances at her boyfriend, the two of them making a silent agreement to talk to Fushiguro after dropping you off instead of going to their morning classes.

Yuji slams the door open, nearly sending Megumi flying into the roof with how loud it was, “Fushiguro!”

“The fuck are you yelling for?” Megumi spits, gaze softening slightly after realising Yuko was trailing behind Yuji.

Yuko frowns, “what did you say to Y/N?”

“What?”

“She was upset, Fushiguro,” Yuji crosses his arms, “what did you say to her?”

“Nothing,” Megumi defends quickly.

“Then why is she upset?” Yuko’s brows furrow.

Megumi sighs, “she just asked me if I hated her–”

Yuji cuts him off, “and what did you say?”

Megumi averts his gaze, “nothing.”

“You said what?” Yuko presses.

“I didn’t know what to say–”

“You say, ‘no Y/N, I don’t!’,” Yuji mocks before landing a punch to Megumi’s shoulder, “you upset her, bro.”

“I know,” Megumi grumbles.

“Then why didn’t you apologise?” Yuko asks.

“I didn’t know how,” Megumi dejectedly sighs. “I didn’t expect it.”

“She likes you, man. Like a lot,” Yuji shakes his head, his heart hurting a little at the fact that Megumi looks really torn up about the whole situation too.

There’s a long pause, “can you lie to her?”

“What?” Yuko and Yuji ask in unison.

“Tell her you can’t pick her up,” Megumi adds, “please.”

Yuji and Yuko share another look and Yuko sighs before nodding her head, taking out her phone to tell you that she and Yuji can’t come get you because Yuji’s brother called and needed his help. It’s not a great lie, but you’ll believe it at first glance.

—

Your phone buzzes in the middle of class. You’re tired and you feel like shit and the professor’s monotone voice is boring you half to death. You flip your phone over and read the message from Yuko.

Yuko <3: Hey, Y/N. Choso called and he needs to borrow Yuji’s car, we can’t come get you this afternoon. Sorry hun x

You frown.

Yuko <3: But don’t worry, Fushiguro is coming to get you.

You panic, quickly unlocking your phone to message her back, telling her you’ll get an uber or just walk but you get a message from an unknown number only a second later.

Unknown: I’ll come get you.

You rest your head in your palm and go to message him back telling him it’s fine but the speech bubbles appear and reappear before he sends the message.

Unknown: Please wait.

You let out a shaky breath, your heart pittering loudly in your chest. You zone out for the remainder of the class, nervously chewing on your nails and tapping on the desk. You don’t want to talk to Megumi, you really don’t. At least not while you feel like shit and your thoughts are a huge mess.

You sit on the grass after your lecture, pulling at the blades of grass by your feet while you stare at the ground, teeth nipping anxiously at the inside of your lower lip. You don’t know what Megumi wants to say to you or why he even agreed to pick you up if he was so against talking about whatever the hell was going on between you two.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when a pair of black sneakers intrudes on your line of sight, you know it’s Megumi from the little scuff marks on the edge since they’re so worn out but they’re his favourite pair.

He doesn’t say anything as he stares at you, hands shoved in the pockets off his hoodie like they always are. You wordlessly stand up, pulling your tote bag to your chest and pushing past him without a word.

“Y/N, I–”

You’re too far ahead of him now, making your way to his parked car on the curb. His head hurts and his chest is tight with nerves but he’s quick to unlock the car for you and let you scoot into the passenger seat.

Megumi quickly joins you, turning on the car and just sitting there for a moment, hands tight around the wheel. 

“I–” Megumi feels his throat close up, “I’m sorry.” You feel your eyes glass over but you don’t offer him anything else but he continues, “I don’t hate you, Y/N.”

“S’fine if you do,” you say quietly, “I know I can be annoying and intrusive–”

“–What? You’re not–”

“And I understand if you want me to move out–”

“No, Y/N, I don’t want that–”

You’re rambling now without thinking, “–nd I know you probably need me to move out cus of that girl at the party–”

“What girl?” Now he’s fucking confused.

“And she’s pretty and I saw you talking to her–”

Wait, his ex?

“–Wait, Y/N, that’s not–”

“And I’m sorry I was so drunk–”

“Y/N, stop!” Megumi didn’t mean to yell, but it instantly shuts you up. He peers over at you and you’re crying, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

“S’okay,” you sniffle, wiping your tears away.

“No, it’s not… You just wouldn’t shut up,” Megumi makes an attempt at dry humour, letting you know it was a joke by following up with a half-assed breathy laugh.

You just look at him, eyes slightly red.

“I– Fuck,” Megumi curses, knuckles turning white as he drips the steering wheel. 

The two of you stay silent, the only thing either of you hear is your quiet sniffling. Megumi sighs, running a hand through his messy hair before speaking, “...she cheated on me.”

Your eyes widen a little.

“That girl you saw. Yeah, she was my ex but… she cheated on me.”

“...I’m sorry, Fushiguro.”

“Stop calling me that,” he grumbles.

“It’s your name,” you retort.

“I don’t want you to call me Fushiguro,” he presses his eyes shut.

Your lips form a tight line and you just watch him, waiting patiently for him to continue because you can tell he’s trying really hard.

“Can you just call me Megumi,” he sighs. “Please?”

You nod, “okay, Megumi,” you whisper softly.

“...I don’t hate you, Y/N. Not even a little,” his eyes finally meet yours.

“You’re really bad at showing it,” you say with a breathy laugh.

“I know… M’just really–” he stops himself, his hand scrunching against the material over his thigh, “I’m just scared.”

Your heart shatters, a pout pulling at your lip because you feel like you’re about to cry again. You study him for a moment, your heart warming at the sight of Megumi Fushiguro being so utterly soft and nervous.

You hesitate for a moment before you reach your hand over the centre console to stop him from grabbing and pulling at his own thigh. His hand is cold and his palm is rough but it’s him. And you were sitting here thinking you needed his comfort when really he needed yours.

He flinches at the gentleness of your touch, your hand is smaller than his but it’s so soft and warm. 

He lets you wrap your fingers around the back of his hand, lets you roll his hand over and press your palm to his. It’s comforting and it’s sweet.

“You don’t need to be scared, Gumi.”

His heart flutters at the nickname and his steely blue eyes nervously meet yours. He nods his head slowly and you smile.

“Feel better?” You ask softly.

Megumi holds your hand in his, eyes still searching yours before they flicker down to your lips briefly. You catch the quick movement and your body reacts without any input from your brain, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

“Gumi?”

Megumi doesn’t need much more motivation than that and his other hand lets go of the wheel to reach over and cup your warm cheek. Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes flicker between his nervously. His eyes are half-lidded, nose grazing yours and your hand squeezes tight around his.

“S’okay,” he coos softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “M’gonna kiss you.”

Your heart is in your throat and you start overthinking it, thinking back to the maybe handful of times a boy has kissed you, but never a man, never someone like Megumi.

You nod your head quickly and a smile tugs at the corner of Megumi’s lip because you’re so fucking cute.

You feel the world melt away when Megumi’s breath fans across your lips, his hand coming to cup the back of your head, guiding you to tilt your head slightly as he finally, finally, closes the distance between you, his slightly chapped lips meeting yours.

You melt into his warmth, one hand nervously holding his while the other has a death grip on the strap of your tote bag. 

His lips move against yours, becoming a little more feverish and needy when you let out a soft whine. He feels himself go feral, wanting to drag you into the back seat and take you in this stupid parking lot where everyone can see.

But instead he takes it slow, pressing your lips against his and his hand tangling in your soft hair. You’re nervous and a little inexperienced, he can tell but it only drives him more insane.

He pulls away only a fraction, a cheeky smile pulling at his lips when he realises your lips chase his, your other hand coming to curl around his hoodie sleeve to bring him closer.

“Wasn’t so bad?” Megumi whispers.

You have the most innocent little look on your face, “does that mean you like me?”

Megumi can only chuckle softly at how damn cute you are, “I don’t just kiss any girl like that, Y/N.”

You nod timidly, “m’kay, Gumi.”

Megumi wants to kiss you again but refrains because he knows he’ll want to do other things to you with how you utter the nickname with such innocence, but you’re in a parking lot on your college campus and there are about fifty people that have walked by in the past ten minutes.

But when you get home?

“Megumi–” your hands are clutching the front of his hoodie as he kisses the side of your cheek, then your temple, then above your eyebrow, “wait a second.”

“S-Sorry,” he mutters against your warm skin. 

You’ve barely got one foot in the door and Megumi already has you pinned against the wall in the hallway, a large hand cupping your head while the other rests on your waist. He pants softly, lips itching to kiss you and kiss you hard.

“I’m sorry too,” you say breathlessly. “For not seeing.”

Megumi shakes his head, “you don’t need to be sorry.”

“But I am,” you murmur, “you’re really bad at talking about your feelings but I should have been more observant.”

“S’okay, Y/N,” he rests his forehead against yours, “m’just glad you let me pick you up.”

“I thought about just walking,” you giggle, “letting you grovel for a little longer.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“I’m glad I didn’t.”

“I’m glad you didn’t either,” he smiles softly, running the pad of his thumb along your cheek.

You fall silent, hands just holding onto his hoodie while he presses feather-light kisses to your face. You suddenly feel nervous when you feel a certain stiffness against your thigh.

“...Do you want to–”

“I’m a virgin.”

Megumi pulls away from you, “W-What?”

“You were gonna ask if we could… y’know,” your eyes shift away from him, “I panicked.”

Megumi laughs, like actually, laughs at that.

“Don’t laugh,” you playfully punch his shoulder, your bottom lip sticking out in a pout. “A lot of people are still virgins in college.”

“M’not laughing at that,” he grins. “You’re just… you’re really cute.”

You feel your face heat at that, “stop it.”

“M’serious.”

“You’re always serious.”

“Whatever.”

You giggle softly, letting him press a soft peck to your lips.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to watch a movie,” Megumi lies through his teeth, liking the way you flush and stammer at outing yourself. 

“Oh,” you say quietly. 

“Why ‘oh’?” He teases.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, brows knit.

“What?” he presses with a shit-eating grin. 

“Nothing,” you retort.

“...Did you want to have sex?”

Your heart drops, eyes widening slightly because yes, you do want to have sex with Megumi. You’d never really thought much about sex until him. Never thought you’d want a guy to manhandle you or put his hands all over your body until Megumi.

“Can we?” you ask timidly.

Megumi feels a pang in his heart because you’re so fucking cute he might pass away. He smiles before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “if you want to.”

“But do you want to?”

Megumi doesn’t need to think very hard about that one.

“I’ve wanted you in my bed since I first met you, Y/N.”

You breathe hard, your heart racing in your chest and you’re sure it’s loud enough for Megumi to hear how fucking nervous yet turned on you are. Your eyes fall to his lips again, revelling in the feeling of his breath fanning over your lips.

You press up on your tiptoes, Megumi’s head slowly tilting and following you, wondering what you’re doing. Your soft lips graze the shell of his ear and you smile cheekily, about to fucking out yourself with the last of your confidence. 

“Fuck me then.”

Megumi slams you against the wall, arms caging your body as he presses his lips hard against yours. The kiss is needy and feverish, a mess of clashing teeth and wandering hands. Megumi’s hand cups the back of your head, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss.

His tongue presses against your lips before sliding into your mouth, earning a soft whine from your throat that you didn’t mean to sound so desperate. Your fists curl around the material of his hoodie, pulling Megumi impossibly closer.

Megumi’s free hand drops from your waist to your hip, squeezing your skin. His other hand drops from your head to curl over your hips and grope your ass. Both of his hands cup your ass, kneading the soft flesh and earning a soft mewl from your throat.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” Megumi mutters against your lips, his messy hair tickling your forehead. You want to moan and whine at the nickname but instead you kiss him again.

You’ve got the hang of this kissing thing but you still have no fucking idea where to put your hands without making him uncomfortable– as if his hands aren’t groping your ass.

Megumi pulls away slightly breathless, “you wanna stop?”

“No,” you shake your head quickly, “no, I don’t wanna stop.”

Megumi grins, kissing your cheek, “okay, sweet girl.”

Megumi leads you to his bedroom, his hand never leaving yours and your other hand never letting go of his hoodie sleeve. He pushes his bedroom door open, his lips on your instantly as he backs you up to his bed. The backs of your thighs hit his mattress and you fall backward, bringing Megumi with you. 

Megumi chuckles softly against your lips before kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the underside of your jaw, then your neck. His hand paws at the bottom hem of your sweater, his fingers slipping underneath to ghost over the skin of your bare tummy. 

“M’gonna take it off, okay?” 

You nod sheepishly, “okay.”

“You tell me if you want me to stop,” he breathes.

“I will, Gumi,” you reply with a whisper, kissing the tip of his nose.

Megumi grins affectionately before his hands grip the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up slightly. Your breath hitches in your throat and he slowly pulls your sweater upward and over your tits. You’re not wearing a shirt, just a lacy black bra, just like the one he got a peek of at the party.

“Pretty,” Megumi murmurs, pressing a kiss to your chest, right between your collarbones. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him against your hot skin as he peppers kisses across your chest, finally pulling your sweater over your head and tossing it aside. You’re left in your pretty bra and a short little skirt that finished above your mid thigh. 

God how he wants to bite and suck on your pretty plush thighs.

His hand snakes underneath you, fingers fiddling with your bra clasp at your back. Your breathing quickens and Megumi kisses your cheek, “s’okay… m’here.”

He unclasps your bra, the cups loosening around your tits and the straps going slack on your shoulders. His fingers ghost over your shoulder as he pulls the strap down your shoulder, pressing soft kisses in his wake.

“C-Can you go faster?” You whine, your voice quiet.

Megumi chuckles, lifting his head to peer up at you, pupils blown wide, “am I going to slow for you, pretty girl?”

You bite your lip, “mhm.”

Megumi lifts his thigh, pressing it between your legs to where you desperately want him. You whine when he presses his strong thigh against your clothed heat, your skirt bunching up at your waist. Your skin feels hot and you feel a wetness pooling in your panties, making your face flush with embarrassment at your own neediness.

“I’ve thought about this,” Megumi whispers, pulling your bra cup down, his large hand cupping your plush breast. “A lot.”

You moan softly, your nipples hardening under the cold chill of the air in his room.

“Thought about what you’d sound like.”

He lowers his head slightly, pressing long, wet kisses to your pretty nipples. Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing him down and forcing him to nip and suck at the soft skin.

“Thought about how you’d look.”

You roll your hips involuntarily against his strong thigh, feeling the friction against your poor little clit. You moan underneath him, your heart racing as he lowers his head to kiss down your tummy to the hem of your skirt.

“Thought about how you’d taste.”

You suddenly let out a surprised gasp when Megumi pulls your lower body off the bed, your hands curling into his bedsheets for support. You peer down at him, your heart in your throat at the sight of Megumi between your legs, his fingers curling underneath the waistband of your skirt and pulling.

He drops the material on the floor, his large hands curling underneath your thighs and pulling them apart, “w-wait, Gumi.”

He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, “what is it, princess?”

“W-What are you doing?”

Megumi smiles against the inside of your thigh, “m’gonna eat your pretty pussy.”

Your hands curl into the sheets and you feel a glob of arousal seep from your cunt. If this is how fucked up he gets you just from kissing you, how the hell are you going to hold up with his tongue inside you?

“You okay with that?”

You nod your head quickly without thinking, a thin sheen of sweat already coating your skin. “P-Please–”

Megumi chuckles softly at how damn cute you are, his fingers hooking under the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs. They’re covered in your arousal, your pretty pussy glistening under the warm glow of the setting sun.

God he wishes he could take a picture.

“G-Gumi?” You peer down at him, “s-stop staring.”

Megumi pulls your thighs over his shoulders, his hair tickling the insides of your spread legs, “sorry, sweet girl, she’s just s’pretty.”

You let out an involuntary moan when he presses a kiss to your swollen clit, the sudden attention sending a jolt of pleasure through your tummy. You want to slam your thighs closed, your body desperate for friction. 

“Don’t tease me,” you whine. “Please–”

Megumi’s fingers curl into your thighs, pulling them apart further and forcing your pussy lips open to press the flat of his tongue against your awaiting clit. 

“M-Megumi–”

You throw your head back against the bed, one of your hands pressing against the back of his head, forcing him closer to your pussy. No one has ever touched you like this, no one has ever put their mouth on you, no one has ever seen your pretty pussy and you couldn’t think of anyone better than Megumi Fushiguro to be the one to tongue-fuck you right now.

“You ever masturbated, baby?”

You whine, “a-are you teasing me or something?”

He smiles against your clit, tongue dipping down to lap up your slick, “maybe a little. I just wanna know if you’ve ever had something inside you.” His thumbs spread you open, his tongue flicking against your clit and making you whine even louder. “Shh, baby, we have neighbours.”

You don’t give a fuck right now.

“I’ve masturbated b-before,” you say after a hard huff, you feel fucking breathless.

“Oh, yeah?” Megumi presses his tongue against your little hole, lewdly slurping up the insane amount of arousal leaking from you. “You should show me.”

“No!” you whine, “so embarrassing.”

“I think it’d be hot,” the tip of his middle finger presses against your hole. “Maybe some other time.”

You cry out, hands gripping the sheets when Megumi presses the tip of his middle finger into your cunt. His fingers are thicker than yours and you can only imagine so much longer, able to press against parts of you you’ve never reached before. 

“Gumi–” you pant, “m-more.”

“More?” He raises a brow at you.

“Please, please–”

“You’re so cute.”

“Shut up!” you whimper, “js’ touch me–” Megumi can’t deny you, not when you sound so fucking gorgeous and you taste like fucking heaven. 

He presses his finger into you, twisting his hand around and curling his finger inside you. You want to cry, your eyes screwed shut and your belly burning. He fucks his finger into you slowly, his tongue lapping and sucking your clit while your thighs press against his head.

“Gonna add another one, okay, baby?”

You nod your head desperately and he smiles cheekily, pressing a second finger into you to stretch you open. You throw your head back at the delicious stretch, your slick coating Megumi’s fingers and dripping down his wrist.

Megumi feels your thighs pressing together harder and he forces your thigh down with his free hand, your knee almost hitting your chest with how he pins it down. He’s spreading you open, tongue flicking against your clit and fingers curling against your gummy walls.

“Gumi– m’gonna–” you feel your tummy burn and you’re so fucking embarrassed that you’re about to cum from just having two fingers inside you. You start to pant, hands tangling in his hair as lewd slurping and squelches fill his room.

“S’okay, baby. Cum on my mouth,” he groans against you, his cock rock hard from feeling your hips grind against his face. You might be a virgin but your body knows what it wants as you rut against his tongue and your legs shake.

Megumi suddenly shakes his head over your clit, his mouth covered in your slick and you just cum. It crashes into you like a fucking train and you whine and moan against the back of your hand as Megumi fucks his fingers into your sopping cunt, your hole spasming and clenching down on his fingers.

He scissors and curls his fingers inside you, fucking you through your orgasm and feeling a sense of pride but also getting a huge fucking ego boost that he’s the first man to ever make you cum.

Your chest is heaving up and down, your vision cloudy and your mind feeling fuzzy as you come back down from your high. Megumi pulls his fingers out of you, kissing the inside of your thigh and lapping up the mess you made all over yourself.

You sit up on your elbows, face flushed and hair dishevelled as you peer down at Megumi. You suddenly feel immensely embarrassed that he was just between your legs, his tongue flicking over your clit and his fingers deep inside you.

“Fuck, you taste better than I imagined,” Megumi licks his fingers clean while holding eye contact with you. 

You whine and flop back onto the bed, earning a soft chuckle from Megumi as he gets to his feet, attempting to find a towel or old shirt somewhere.

“Where are you going?” You ask timidly.

“M’gonna clean you up, don’t worry, I won’t go,” he replies, quickly pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“But…” your eyes flicker to the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Hm?” He follows your gaze. “Oh, m’okay, princess. It’s not about me anyway.”

“But, I want to–”

“S’okay, Y/N,” he lifts your hand, kissing your knuckles softly, “you can try some other time.”

“...Do you not want to?”

He grins, “course I want to.”

“Then let me,” you whine, pulling him closer to you. “Please.”

Megumi ponders it for a moment. He doesn’t want to frighten you and he’s so fucking scared of losing control and just bending you over and fucking your brains out. But the way you look at him with your pretty wide eyes and your hands gripping his thighs as he stands between your legs– 

How could he say no?

“You want to, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay… we’ll go slow,” he urges, petting your hair gently. 

You’re so fucking eager to please him that it makes him weak. Your post-orgasm body is shaky as you reach for the zipper of his pants, your fingertips grazing against the sensitive bulge. He groans softly, hand petting your head as he lets you figure it out, slowly unzipping his pants and pulling them down a little.

There’s a dark wet patch on his boxers, he’s so fucking turned on by your pretty sounds and your intoxicating taste that his cock is leaking and begging for attention.

“S’big,” you whisper, eyes widening.

And he hasn’t even pulled his cock out of his boxers.

He chuckles, “you flatter me, pretty.”

“N-No, really,” your pretty eyes meet his. “Is it gonna fit in my mouth?”

Holy fucking shit. 

He was thinking you were just going to give him a handjob and now you’re asking if he can fit in your mouth.

Megumi runs a hand through his hair, “fuck you drive me crazy.”

“I-I thought you wanted me to–”

“Baby. You can do whatever you want to me.”

Your eyes blow wide and you just about sparkle with anticipation, “then… can I suck your dick?”

Someone kill him and put him to rest because you’re about to be the death of him.

“Fuck yeah you can, baby.”

Megumi has to help you pull his cock from his boxers and your eyes just about bulge out of your head at the size of him. He’s long and thick and the tip is a pretty pink colour. It’s heavy too, almost too heavy to hold itself up.

He sits down on the bed and you get on your knees in front of him. He strips his hoodie off, his abs flexing as he leans back on his elbows, just watching you.

You bite your lip, suddenly intimidated.

“S’okay… just take it slow.”

You nod your head before your hand wraps around the base. Megumi suddenly groans and you pull away with a fright, “s-sorry!”

“No, no, baby–” he chuckles breathily. “Js’ a lot to take in having a pretty girl with her hands on my cock.”

You look away shyly and Megumi laughs, reaching out to cup your jaw, forcing you to look back at him. He sits up, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. You the remains of your orgasm on his tongue, pressing your thighs together as you feel yourself become a little aroused again.

He kisses you deeper, reaching his free hand out to cup your own, guiding you toward his hard neglected cock. “You can touch me, baby.”

Your hand wraps around the base and you squeeze softly, earning a groan from your pretty roommate. He guides your hand up and down and it’s painfully fucking slow but he’s just happy to have your hands on him.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs. “Doin’ so good.”

You beam at the praise, pressing your thumb against the leaky slit of his pretty cock head. Megumi groans, leaning back on his elbows and tipping his head back. You continue the motion, eyes gleaming with pride and innocence as you just watch him fuck your hand.

His hips jerk up, his cock pulsing in your hand.

You suddenly feel the urge to press your lips to his tip and when you do, Megumi nearly cums like a fucking teenager. 

“F-Fuck,” he grunts, his hand unintentionally pulling your hair, forcing out a pretty moan from your lips. 

You take the tip in your mouth, your tongue flattening against the head. You wonder if you’re doing it right but the way Megumi groans and his hand pushes your head further down his length, you think you’re doing a pretty good job.

“Such a good girl,” Megumi sighs, “feels s’good.”

You moan at the praise, taking a little more of his length down your throat. Your hands are squeezing his thighs, nails scraping against the taut skin and Megumi is doing everything in his power to not fuck his cock down your throat.

You start to drool, saliva slipping down your chin and coating his pretty cock. You suddenly gag on his cock, the tip hitting the back of your throat. 

“F-Fuck,” Megumi feels his cock twitch at the cute fucking sounds you’re making. Your eyes are glassy, and you’ve got drool dripping down your chin and your cheeks are flushed so pretty. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby.”

You pump the base of his cock, your tongue clumsily swirling around his tip, eyes glued to him as you watch for his reactions. Megumi suddenly sucks in a breath and pulls your mouth off his tip with a quiet pop! quickly pumping his cock.

Hot ropes of sticky cum spill across your lips and face, Megumi tipping his head back with a deep groan, squeezing the base of his cock as it twitches and jumps.

“Fuck– you sure you’ve never sucked dick before– Oh, fuck.”

Megumi’s eyes dilate at the sight of his cum painting your pretty little face, your fingers swiping at the ropes of cum before you push them into your mouth, tasting him. 

“I do good?”

Megumi laughs breathlessly, “you did so good, baby girl.”

Megumi is quick to clean you up, using an old shirt to wipe the cum off your face while you sit there all pretty on your knees in front of him. He presses kisses to your face and your hair before pulling you into bed beside him, his fingertips tracing over your shoulder as you lay your head on his chest.

“You mean what you said?”

“Hm?”

“You like me?” You ask sweetly, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him.

Megumi sits up a bit, “I like-like you.”

“Wow. That’s a big call, Fushiguro.”

Megumi chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “remember it’s Megumi.”

“Gumi?”

“I like that too.”

“Mm, Megs?”

“Don’t push it.”

You giggle softly, curling into his side with a wide smile.

Megumi takes you to work and campus every day after that night, his hand always in yours when he walks you to class and he likes to pretend it annoys him how you wrap your hand around his arm and how you squeal his name when you see him after class.

When in reality, Megumi couldn’t be happier. In a twisted way, he’s glad you asked him if he hated you, because he was able to summon the courage to tell you the truth.

That he didn’t hate you. Not even a little.

author's note: the way i been pulling all nighters for DAYS. i was about to kill these two I TELL YOU JUST MAKE OUT PLS I CANT–

taglist: @starpachinko @2ukika @sukunabish @somethinglikero @wannabewolf @milliex01x @princessa143 @hrithi11 @katsukita69 @slayzzz @arcanefeelings @shirabu-k @izzzzzzig @zah2890 @evergumi @aerareads @flashilyquinn @raedollsstuff @happylildeath @anormieee @l1v1ngzomb1e @kimkimoruo @sunnyf4lls @saekolust @kalulakunundrum @xastoriaaurax @feliaeae @sleepyxzn

[cutehoons02]

Run through my heart

*pairing: illegal racer driver Jungwon x good Girl

*trope: frat/bad boy x good girl

*synopsis: Jungwon at only 20 is in the top 5 of the state for being one of the drivers of illegal races all over Korea but what would happen when your best friend and Jungwon’s best friend’s girlfriend invited you to see an illegal race? Jungwon is totally the opposite of your ideal boyfriend but with his bad boy charm but also gentlamen vibes you will be able to not fall for his charm?

*tags: A lot of humor,fluffy,jungwon loves to flirt with girls especially with the protagonist, pervy Jungwon, both the protagonist and jungwon love to tease each other, masturbation (f. receives it in public) fingering, pussy drinking,unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl)+18,pet names (good girl,princess) (wildcat)

(English is not my native language)

10.5k (🐈)

💌The request and ideas were written by @jayjw16enxp for this story (thanks a lot for your help)

The smell of burnt tires permeated the cold night air, mixing with the metallic scent of petrol. The headlights of the illuminated cars created light games that made the road look like a movie scene. You were standing next to your best friend, hands crossed on your chest in your padded leather jacket, You were grumpy since your best friend in the car had told you that for that night you would not go to Karaoke and eat fried chicken but to see Jay’s bff running and you had a skeptical look on cars in line.

"I don’t know why I came," you muttered, watching Jay waving animatedly with a group of guys near a black Nissan Skyline. "The underground races? Seriously? This is the height of your genius?" you told your best friend.

Your best friend laughed, settling down next to Jay. 'Come on, relax! It’s just a different evening, try to have some fun!, you’re here with Jay and me, nothing will happen to you, and in less than two hours you’ll be in your warm bed thinking about the adrenaline that you’ve experienced, trust me for once, Y/n'

"Having fun? Getting into trouble? Great idea. If someone from the press studio finds out my scholarship will disappear instantly, I’ll ask for financial damages to your boyfriend full of money." You shook your head, adjusting your hair behind an ear for the nervous. You were about to make more biting jokes when a soft, vaguely amusing voice interrupted his thoughts.

«You don’t seem like the type of place. Who did you take Jay to see an illegal race? The little mouse in the library?»

You snatched him up, and you saw him Jungwon. His eyes were sharp as razor blades, his smile bold and just curved his lips. He wore a leather jacket that reflected the lights of the headlights and leaned with ease to a shiny black car, probably his own a car that looked fast even when it was stationary.

You were caught off guard by her presence for a moment. "I am not," you replied, crossing your arms. "And apparently, you don’t seem like the type to... break the law either."

Jungwon laughed, a low and slightly dangerous sound. «It’s up to someone to add a little adrenaline to these monotonous lives, otherwise you know how boring life would be without a bit of a kick.» He pulled away from the car and approached you slowly, with the cat’s step of who knows exactly what effect it has. «And then, it is not so bad, right? Look at this crowd, the energy. Aren’t you a little curious to feel your blood pumping much stronger inside you especially your body to make you feel the sensation of adrenaline, of the anxiety and fear of being discovered in such a place where surely good girls like you should not be?»

"Not enough to put my life on the line for a four-wheeled ego race or to risk my money on a guy who’s gonna be even smaller than me," you said, clenching your lips.

Your words, however, did not shake him at all. He seemed to enjoy himself even more. He leaned slightly towards you, his eyes as bright as those of a cat having fun with its prey. «Interesting,» he said quietly. «Usually people either fear me or admire me. You, on the other hand... You’re a beautiful mystery, who would have thought that the good girl had such a sharp temper.»

You raised an eyebrow, determined not to be intimidated. "Maybe because I’m not interested in impressing a guy who thinks he’s a hero just 'cause he can drive fast'."

Jungwon stepped back, raising his hands in surrender, but the smile never left his face. «Touché. But don’t underestimate the speed. It’s a feeling that changes you and makes you feel alive. Maybe you should try it at least once.»

"It will never happen," you replied

«Never say» he muttered with a small smile before a voice called his name in the distance. He turned, gazing at the crowd, then looked back at you. «Hold on to your skepticism, 'good girl'. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll change your mind.»

And with that phrase and a smile full of arrogance, Jungwon walked away, leaving you with a mixture of irritation and something more difficult to define. Something that made you feel a shiver down your back, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

"God, it’s unbearable," you mumbled between your teeth as your best friend burst out laughing next to you.

'Unbearable, of course,' said your friend, giving you an elbow. 'But admit it, he has left you speechless. Both because he knows his stuff but also because he is crazy hot with that bad boy aura but at the same time with those cat eyes that look at you attentively as if you were his next prey'

You’re sunburned, your cheeks are starting to pinch. "Don’t even joke about it."

But in your stomach, a spark had been lit, and you weren’t sure that you could put it out so easily.

The roar of the engines was ringing in the air, covering up any conversation. You watched with wide eyes the cars lined up next to each other, ready to snatch like wild beasts. The headlights lit up the asphalt, and for a moment everything seemed to be still, as if night held its breath.

Jay was standing next to you, his arm resting protectively on your shoulders and his girlfriend’s. <<Relax,>> he said, a reassuring smile on his lips. <<It’s all under control. No one will touch you.>>

"I’m not worried about myself," you mumbled, even though it wasn’t entirely true. You felt like a fish out of water, but there was something in the atmosphere, the electric energy of the crowd, the roar of cars, the tension before the shot that made your heart beat a little faster. Maybe it was fear, or maybe... excitement...that was the feeling Jungwon described earlier?

The deafening music that had flooded the road until a few minutes earlier suddenly ceased, leaving only room for the roar of the engines. All eyes were on the racers. Cameras and phones stood up, ready to capture the start of the race. Jungwon was in the front row, his face calm and focused as he held the wheel.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. There was something hypnotic about him: that arrogant ease, the confidence in his movements. It was as if the adrenaline ran through his veins instead of blood. He didn’t even seem nervous.

<< So, what do you think? > asked Jay, lowering his voice so that only you could hear him.

"What?" you replied, trying to mask the disturbance.

<<About him. Jungwon. He’s good, isn’t he? >

You shrugged your shoulders, trying to look indifferent. "I don’t know yet. He has to prove it."

Jay laughed, shaking his head. <<You’ll see.>>

The air vibrated when the start signal blinked. The cars sprinted forward with a deafening roar, the tires leaving black tracks on the asphalt. You held your breath as you watched Jungwon take the lead immediately, zigzagging through the corners with impressive precision.

The track was an urban course, full of tight curves and straight lines that tested the skills of each driver. Jungwon steered with almost inhuman ease, cutting corners to the millimeter without ever losing speed.

<< Look how he enters the curve,>> said Jay enthusiastically. << No one drives like him. He is not afraid of anything.>>

You watched him, fascinated, the other cars tried to keep up with him, but nobody could keep up. It was as if the machine were an extension of his body, and he knew exactly how to push it to its limits without ever losing control.

After two laps, it was clear that he would win. No matter how much others tried to get over him, Jungwon was always one step ahead, calculating every move with surgical precision. When he crossed the finish line first, the crowd burst into a roar of exultation.

Jay clapped loudly, pulling you and his girlfriend into a hug. <<I told you!>> he exclaimed, laughing.

You were very quick. "He’s good, I admit. But he’s too young for all this. It’s ridiculous to think he could be so good, he just turned 20."

«It’s not ridiculous,» said a voice behind you.

You turned and there he was, Jungwon, still with his helmet in hand and the arrogant smile that lit up his face. He looked triumphant, but in his eyes, there was a challenge.

«I’m twenty, not ten», he continued, leaning nonchalantly against a parked car. «And it doesn’t matter how old you are when you’re the best.»

You crossed your arms and smiled shamelessly. "The best? In your head, maybe. People talk, you know? Not everyone is so convinced of your abilities."

Jungwon laughed a low and funny sound. «Let them talk. The numbers don’t lie, i'm in the top 5 of the state racers. And trust me, it wasn’t easy to get there.»

"If you say so," you replied, trying to ignore the shiver that had passed through your back as you looked into his eyes.

«You must not believe me,» he said, taking a step closer. «But sooner or later you will understand. Speed is not just about money or perfect cars, it’s about the heart.»

The evening seemed almost quiet. You were sitting on an old wooden stool, holding in your hands a mojito that was melting too fast. Your best friend, laughing next to you as Jay strutted in the distance, probably telling someone how good Jungwon was.

'It’s not so bad, isn’t it?' said your bf, giving you a slight push on the shoulder.

"It still doesn’t convince me," you replied, sipping your drink. "Too much confusion, too many people... Not my world."

Your bf laughed. 'I know, but sometimes you have to try new things. Maybe there’s something here that...'

The girl’s words were interrupted by a sudden and deafening noise. Screams, immediately followed by the unmistakable sound of police sirens. The crowd exploded into a chaos of excited voices, bodies pushing and shoes pounding on the asphalt.

You got stuck, your heart was pounding. "What’s going on?"

'The cops, they’re here!' shouted someone, and the crowd began to scatter in all directions.

You looked around, lost, looking for your bff with your eyes, but before you could understand what to do you felt a strong hand holding your arm. You turned around and found Jungwon staring at you with a serious, almost impatient expression.

«You,» he said, bowing without waiting for an answer. «Come with me.»

"What-? Wait! No!" you tried to protest, but he didn’t give you the time. He dragged you through the crowd with fierce determination, dodging people and fallen bottles, to his car parked near the main road.

Jungwon opened the passenger door and almost pushed it in. «Get in.»

"I don’t even think so!"

The sirens came even closer, and you had no choice. You sat in the seat with your heart in your throat, slamming the door just as he was getting into the driver’s seat and turning on the engine.

«It’s written on your face that you’ve never been to such meetings,» he said as he set off. «Too scared to move.»

You stared at him. "I’m not scared!"

«Oh, you are,» he replied, and before you could fight back he put the gas on. The machine slammed forward at a speed that took your breath away. You clung to the seat, white knuckles, as the landscape began to flow at an impossible speed. The sirens were still behind you, but they got farther and farther away.

"You’re going too fast!" you shouted, trying to make yourself heard above the roar of the engine.

Jungwon did not answer, his face focused while he was dodging other cars and taking sharp turns without ever slowing down. His calm was frightening.

"I said slow down!" He turned his head slightly towards you, a funny smile that curved his lips. «What is it, speed scares you? I thought you were more brave.»

That was the drop of water. Without thinking, you raised your hand and slapped him on the arm. "Slow down!"

Jungwon laughed, the sound was low and incredibly calm for the situation. «It doesn’t work like that, princess. With the police on your tail, you run or lose.»

You stared at him, furious and terrified at the same time. "You’re out of your mind!"

«Maybe» he replied, giving the pedal a further push. The car accelerated even more, and you felt your heart go up in your throat.

«Tell me where you live,» said Jungwon, suddenly serious.

You exhibited, still tight to the seat. "Why?"

«Because if you don’t tell me, I don’t know where to leave you. Unless you want to stay with me all night.»

Your cheeks burned. "You’re an idiot."

«I take it as a compliment.»

With an exasperated sigh, you gave him the address. He nodded, turned the wheel with impeccable accuracy, and put a side road in.

The speed was only slightly slower, but not fast enough to feel the ground under your feet.

When it finally arrived in front of your palace, your heart was still beating like a drum.

He stopped the car, putting an arm on the steering wheel as he looked at you. «All together, see? It wasn’t so bad.»

You struck him with your eyes, but you did not answer. You opened the door and came down, almost stumbling as your legs trembled.

«Good night, princess», said Jungwon with a smile as he looked at you.

"Good night a horn," you mumbled, slamming the door. But as you ran home, you couldn’t ignore the fact that, despite everything, a part of you had felt that adrenaline... and you almost liked it.

The atmosphere at the university was unbearable. Every conversation seemed to revolve around Jungwon: the young prodigy, the boy who had rushed like lightning in the last run and left everyone speechless.

You sighed every time you heard his name. It was everywhere. In the boys' talks, in the girls' whispers. Even the professors seemed to mention with a veiled interest "that young pilot of whom everyone is talking".

But to you, Jungwon was just an arrogant boy with a passion for risk and a smile that irritated you more than it was allowed. Yet, there was something you couldn’t get out of your head: the night of the escape. The speed, the shiver, the way you felt alive... and vulnerable. It was a feeling you hated and, in part, wanted to forget.

One afternoon, as you were desperately trying to ignore the avalanche of messages in the groups on Jungwon, your bff approached your desk with a complicit smile and a colorful poster in hand.

'Look here,' she said, waving the paper before you.

You looked up from the book. "What is it?"

'One race,' he replied enthusiastically. 'But not a big one. It’s a training for the top 5, a private event. Only a few can attend.'

"So why show it to me?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Cause I want to go there,' she replied with a smirk. 'And I thought you could come along. You know, as my partner in crime.'

"Not even in my dreams," you cut short, back to the book.

'Really?' sat down next to you, lowering his voice in a provocative tone. 'Are you sure? Maybe you can take the opportunity to thank that guy who saved you last night.'

You were blocked. Those words hit a nerve. You promised to thank him, despite everything. After that night you didn’t see each other anymore, and not that you cared particularly... or maybe yes?

"I’m thinking about it," you murmured at the end, leaving your satisfied bff in her place.

Two days later, you were exactly where you swore you would never be: a private track just outside the city, surrounded by a select few spectators. There was no crowd or chaos, only the roar of cars preparing to go down the track.

Despite initial reluctance, you could not deny that the atmosphere was fascinating. The shiny asphalt in the sun, the smell of burnt rubber, and the electricity in the air. It was all so... different.

You settled next to your best friend, who chatted animately with Jay. But your eyes were immediately caught by a figure in the distance: Jungwon.

He was there, with his pilot’s suit half open on the chest, helmet under his arm, and that cheeky smile printed on his face. He was laughing with a group of girls who seemed to be hanging on his lips.

You were staring at him, unable to look away. It was impossible to deny: he was beautiful. Perhaps too beautiful. His cat eyes shone with a light that seemed magnetic, and the dark and slightly ruffled hair fell perfectly on his face as if they had been designed for him.

And that suit... God.

"Oh, no," you muttered, looking away. You couldn’t, you didn’t have to admit it was nice. He wasn’t. He wasn’t even your type.

'Are you all right?' she asked, giving yourself a curious look.

"Yes," you answered, clenching your fists. "It’s all right."

But as Jungwon put on his helmet with a fluid gesture and approached his car, you noticed that your heart was beating faster. And it wasn’t the noise of the engines.

Coming fourth wasn’t exactly the result he wanted, especially considering he had raced against Heeseung and Sunghoon, two legends in the underground races. He had given everything, but against them, it was like fighting a storm.

As he stepped out of the car and took off his helmet, his gaze wandered through the small crowd of selected spectators. He looked for Jay, knowing that he would be somewhere with his girlfriend.

When he found it, however, Jungwon was stuck for a moment. Next to Jay was she: the good girl.

She was still, her arms crossed and the expression swaying between embarrassment and a strange determination. Although the light of sunset played with his features, giving his figure an almost ethereal aura, it was evident that he was not at ease in that environment.

Jungwon approached, his disappointment for fourth place temporarily forgotten. Curiosity shone in his feline eyes. «Wow, who sees again,» he said, a sneering smile that curled his lips.

You looked at him with your usual exasperated expression, but with a slight blush that colored your cheeks. "Hi, Jungwon."

«I didn’t think these places were your kind» he continued, slightly bowing his head. «Have you decided to add a little adrenaline to your monotonous life?»

Roll your eyes, ignoring the provocation. "I’m not here to have fun."

«Oh, then why are you here?»

Take a deep breath, determined to say what you had to. "I’m here to thank you."

Jungwon stared at you, surprised. «Thank me? For what?»

"For having me... Saved, if you may say so, the other night," I replied, looking down for a moment before raising it to meet his eyes.

For a moment he laughed, shaking his head slightly.

«Saved, eh?» she said, approaching by a step. «I would say that I have only given you a moving passage.»

"Call it what you will," you replied, trying to keep your cool. "But still... thank you."

Jungwon stopped laughing and stared at you, his eyes twinkling like something that looked like a challenge.

«And what do you think I want in return?» he asked, his voice low and almost hypnotic.

You looked at him, confused. "In return?"

He leaned slightly towards you, his face so close that you felt the warmth of his breath on your skin. Then, with a whisper that made your blood freeze in the veins, he said: «A kiss.»

Your eyes widened. "You’re kidding, right?"

Jungwon straightened, smiling with the same arrogance as ever. «I never joke, princess.»

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to figure out if he was serious or not. Finally, he crossed his arms and raised his chin in defiance. "Then you will be left without thanks."

He laughed as if his answer amused him even more. «We will see» and walked away with a sure pace, leaving you there with your heart still beating wildly.

It was a quiet evening, of those you preferred. Your best friend had gone out with Jay, and for once the apartment seemed to be in a pleasant silence. You were sitting on the couch with a cup of hot tea and a book, finally free to enjoy some peace.

But that peace broke suddenly when the intercom rang, making you jump. You were not expecting anyone. You did a little bit of showing, but then you went and checked the screen.

Your breath was blocked. On the monitor was Jungwon, hands in his pockets and that relaxed expression that seemed to say "I’m always in the right place at the right time."

"What’s he doing here?" you murmured, nervously tightening the oversized pajamas you wore. He put his hand on your mouth, trying to collect your thoughts.

Despite everything, you opened.

Jungwon’s steps rang up the stairs, and before you could get ready, he was standing at the door, tall, confident, and with a slight smile on his face.

«Hello, princess,» he said, leaning on the door frame.

You looked at him, confused and with a mixture of irritation and nervousness. "What are you doing here?"

He did not answer. He entered without being invited, taking off his shoes naturally as if he were at home.

"what.." you stopped when you saw him walking around the apartment, observing everything with curiosity.

«Nice place,» said Jungwon, passing a hand on the kitchen cabinet and then taking a look at the sofa. He moved with the grace of a cat, calmly exploring every corner.

"You can’t come in like that," you protested.

«Why not? » he answered, turning to look at you. «I’m doing nothing wrong.»

You crossed your arms, trying to keep calm. "You still avoided the main question: what are you doing here?"

Jungwon came a few steps closer, reducing the distance between you. His gaze was piercing, and the sneering smile had never left his face. «I have come to take my thanks.»

The heart missed a stroke. "What?"

«I told you, didn’t I? I don’t leave anything halfway.» He leaned slightly toward you. «And I don’t accept excuses.»

You roast, feeling completely overwhelmed by his presence. You tried to appeal to your rational side, but couldn’t find the right words. "I... I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I owe you nothing."

Jungwon tilted his head as if he was weighing up his words. Then he laughed softly, a low, warm sound that made her shiver. «You’re always so sweet, aren’t you? And scared.»

"I am not afraid," you protested.

«Oh, yes you are,» he replied, getting even closer. His eyes shone with malice, but there was something else too, something deeper that you could not decipher.

I stepped back, but you found yourself with your back against the kitchen table. You were trapped, and Jungwon seemed to know it.

«So?» he asked you, with a smile that seemed like a challenge. «What about my thanks?»

You looked down, your face was red. "I don’t know what you want from me..."

Jungwon laughed again, this time more softly. He raised his hand and pulled a lock of hair from your face. His touch was light, but enough to hold your breath.

«All right,» he said, in a strangely gentle tone. "Perhaps I’ll let you choose how you want to thank me. But remember, princess, I never forget.»

With those words, he finally left and returned to snooping.

Jungwon was still looking around, moving like a curious cat, when his gaze fell on the couch. Without thinking too much, he dropped with a soft thud, stretching as if he were the master of the house. «Nice and comfortable here," he commented nonchalantly.

You were staring at him with your arms crossed, trying to keep a serious tone. "I didn’t invite you to get comfortable, you know."

He ignored you as his eyes were set on a book left on the pillow next to him. With disarming speed, he grabbed it.

«Let’s see what our princess reads,» he said, flipping through the pages.

"No! Give it back!" you exclaimed, approaching quickly.

But it was too late. Jungwon read aloud one of the most sappy passages in the book, imitating an overly sweet voice. "And he stared at her intensely, unable to resist the temptation to kiss her..."

You suddenly blush, embarrassed. "Stop it, give me back now!"

Jungwon burst out laughing.

«I never thought you were a fan of romantic novels. Aren’t you the one with the study books?»

You came to grab the book, but he pushed it away, holding it high above his head. "Jungwon, I told you to give it back!"

In an attempt to catch him, you swerved, falling on him on the couch. Both of you ended up lying down, you on top of him, the forgotten book on the ground.

For a moment everything seemed to stop. You looked up and met his feline eyes, so close that he could see every detail of their depth.

With a slow gesture, he raised his hand and stroked your cheek, the thumb that touched your skin with disarming delicacy. «Soft,» he murmured, almost in silence, as if he was making an incredible discovery.

Your heart was beating fast, and your face turned even more red. "J-Jungwon..."

He slightly tilted his head, his gaze curious and fascinated. Then, with a speed that caught you by surprise, he made you a slight tickle on your hips, making you burst into an involuntary laugh.

"Hey!" you protested in laughter, trying to move, but Jungwon kept teasing you with that funny smile.

«I like your laugh», he said, stopping at last. His voice was warm and low, and for a moment the atmosphere among you changed.

Before you could say anything, Jungwon leaned slightly towards you, his feline movements controlled. Then, with a confidence that seemed to leave no room for doubt, he laid his lips on yours.

The kiss was soft, but firm. There was no hurry, just a gesture full of respect and curiosity. You felt his big hands leaning around your back to hold you closer to him and with a sigh you let his tongue enter your mouth; It was the best kiss you had ever had and Jungwon looked so good at everything he did and you felt the heat of the contact immediately that broke down all resistance.

When you left, Jungwon smiled at you, his eyes shining with something you still couldn’t define. «Now I can consider myself thanked,» he muttered, the mischievous tone but strangely sweet.

Jungwon looked at you with a smile that mixed mischievousness and tenderness. «You know, I must admit,» he said in that witty tone that you now knew well, «you’re quite good at kissing, princess.»

You opened your eyes wide, the redness immediately rising to your cheeks. "Jungwon!" you protested, lightly hitting him on the shoulder.

He laughed, the low and relaxed sound that always seemed to make fun of you, but in a surprisingly affectionate way. Before he could fight back, he wrapped an arm around your waist and gently pulled you to himself, causing your head to rest on his neck.

«Then relax,» he muttered, as he slowly stroked your back.

Part of you couldn’t help but wonder: How can I feel safe with him? Jungwon was everything that represented chaos, risk, and defying the rules. Yet there, in his arms, was a calm you could not explain.

«Do you feel safe?» he asked you as if he had read your mind.

You did not answer immediately, clenching your fingers against the fabric of his shirt. At the end, you whisper, with a thread of voice: "It makes no sense, but yes."

Jungwon smiled, and his warm breath tickled your hair. «Maybe because I’m less dangerous than you think.»

Before you could answer, Jungwon moved slightly, breaking contact. He stood up, stretching with a grace that seemed almost feline. «But now I must go.»

You looked at him, still sitting on the sofa. "Doing... illegal things?" you asked, your voice a little jokey but also a bit serious.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. «In a way yes. I have to do something very illegal for the human being, imposed from above.»

You stared at him, confused. "What?"

«Study», he replied with a sly smile.

You blinked, incredulous. "Study?"

Jungwon nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. «Right. You don’t seem convinced.»

"I’m not," you admitted. "You... study? Really?"

«Of course. I study law.»

His words left you breathless. "Law?" you repeated, incredulous. "You? The boy who runs illegally and seems to ignore every rule... Do you study law?"

Jungwon laughed again, amused by his reaction. «I know, I know. It seems a contradiction, doesn’t it? But what can I do? I have a passion for rules. Only I prefer to decide when and how to follow them.»

You stared at him, trying to process that new information. "You are... a living contradiction."

«Interesting,» he smiled maliciously at you. Then, he slightly bowed his head. «And you are adorable when you are confused. See you, princess.»

And with those words, he left, leaving you sitting on the sofa staring at the door. And you thought that Jungwon was a riddle that you didn’t know how to solve yet.

After days of life seemed back to normal, you were immersed in your journalism studies, trying to forget the chaos that Jungwon had brought into your life. You were focused, determined to keep your head on her future, away from distractions.

But when your colleague at the university newspaper asked you to write a piece about clandestine racing, you suddenly found yourself back in the center of that world from which you had tried to get away.

'Are you sure you want to do it?' asked the colleague. 'It doesn’t seem like your environment.'

You raised your chin, determined. "I can do it. I’ll go with my best friend, no problem."

And so, that Saturday night, you found yourself again immersed in the racket noise. The pre-race was a chaotic party: deafening music, neon lights that illuminated the improvised track, people laughing and drinking everywhere. Your best friend, she seemed perfectly comfortable, but you don't.

Despite everything, you took your notebook and you started working. You had to do a detailed report, so you started to observe the machines and transcribe nicknames, technical notes, and the general atmosphere.

"The Panther" had a black and shiny livery, and "The Eagle" a silver car that seemed to slip in the air. Each pilot had a nickname, an identity that made them bigger than life.

But when your gaze was set on a machine unmistakable, your heart stopped. It was there, in all its glory: the hood painted with shiny stripes that reminded of claw scratches, and the name he had already heard whispered by Jay: The Wildcat.

Next to the car was him. Jungwon.

Your heart sped up when you saw it. Lying nonchalantly beside the car, he wore a dark leather jacket left unlaced, revealing a tight-fitting T-shirt that highlighted his dry physique. The messy hair looked even softer in the neon light, and the cat eyes shone with a mix of challenge and fun. He was not alone. Three, maybe four girls were standing near him, laughing and flirting openly. One of them had put a hand on his arm, and he didn’t seem at all annoyed.

The pen you held in your hand stopped. You felt a wave of conflicting emotions: annoyance, jealousy, irritation, and that bit of insecurity that you could never get away from when it came to confronting other girls.

'Are you all right?' asked your bff, noticing your sudden silence.

"Yes," lying, looking down, and pretending to take notes in your notebook.

Jungwon seemed perfectly in his element. Every movement and every smile seemed to be designed to attract attention, and it worked perfectly. Everyone was watching him, and he knew it.

When one of the girls came closer to him, laughing and putting a hand on his chest, you felt yourself burning inside. You turned, pressing the notebook against your chest. It shouldn’t have mattered. It didn’t.

But then, as if he had felt your gaze even amid the chaos, Jungwon looked up and saw you.

His smile stopped for a moment. The feline eyes were fixed on you, curious and perhaps surprised.

You held your breath, unable to look away.

Then, Jungwon’s smile returned, slower and deeper. She pulled away from the car and stepped over to you, the girls who were quietly protesting about the sudden lack of attention.

You were juggling between the machines, trying to ignore the knot of emotion that had formed in his stomach after seeing Jungwon. You kept taking notes in his notebook, writing down details about the race, the drivers, the nicknames... but your heart could not calm down.

You were focused on describing a car with a fiery red livery when suddenly you heard a hand grab your notebook. You slammed your eyes and you saw it.

Jungwon was there, a few steps away from you, with that cat-like look in his eyes that seemed to be light inside. His eyes shone with mischief and amusement, and his lips curled in a sneering smile. «Hey, princess,» he said goodbye, holding the notebook carelessly in her hand. «I missed something or are you trying to write a book about us?»

"Give it back, Jungwon. I’m working."

He slightly tilted his head, studying it. «Working, eh? You didn’t find a minute to come and say hello? All the other girls did it.» His voice was a mixture of provocation and challenge.

You’re sticking your jaw, trying to keep calm. "I didn’t come here to make friends, Jungwon. I have other things to do."

Your words made him smile. He leaned slightly towards you, your eyes straight in his. «Let me guess... Are you jealous?»

You blinked, surprised by her question. Then you sat down, raising your chin with determination. "Not. Why should I be jealous?"

Jungwon stared at you for a moment, his smile widening as if he were having a great time. «I don’t know, but usually the girls who look at me like that have something to say.»

You get stiff, feeling your face getting warmer and warmer. "I wasn’t looking at you in any way. I have other things to think about."

He laughed softly, a sound that seemed to wrap her like a caress. «Sure, princess. As you wish.»

You ripped the notebook out of his hands. "Stop calling me that. And let me do my job."

Jungwon pulled back, raising his hands in surrender, but his smile did not fade. «All right, all right. But don’t take it too hard. You know where to find me if you change your mind.»

And with a last look that seemed to promise trouble, he turned around and returned to his car.

The race was a whirlwind of emotions. You were with Jay and your bff, watching the chaos of cars sprinting under the spotlight. The engines were roaring, and the adrenaline felt palpable in the air. Jungwon was third, fighting ferociously to reach the podium and win that prize which meant more than just money.

You couldn’t deny that she was nervous. Every tight turn, every overtake, every calculated risk made her hold her breath. The gaze was instinctively set on Jungwon’s car, recognizable by its aggressive stripes and proudly painted number.

But then it happened.

The Panther made an illegal move. A sharp cut to the trajectory, too close to be a simple mistake. Jungwon’s car skidded, losing control, and went off the track with an impact that made the silence in the air resound. No one laughed, no one spoke.

"Damn it!" cursed Jay, sprinting into the pit area to see what had happened to Jungwon. You looked for Jungwon, but he was as if disappeared, swallowed up by the darkness of the track. The crowd around you had already started to celebrate, shouting for Heeseung, Sunghoon, and the Panther’s victory as the spotlight turned on the winners.

You were lost. You couldn’t think of anything but the car that was off the track and the guy driving it. Where was Jungwon? Was he all right?

"Hey," a deep voice brought you back to reality.

You turned around and saw a boy coming towards you. It was the pilot of the Panther, the one who caused the accident.

"What is a pretty girl doing here with a notebook in her hand?" he asked, looking at you with interest.

"I’m working," you replied coldly, holding the notebook to my chest. "I’m a journalist, I have to write about the race."

He laughed, a sound that had nothing genuine. "A journalist, eh? Well, maybe you could write a piece about me. You know, I’m the star of the night."

You stared at it, the obvious annoyance on your face. "I don’t think I’ll write about who plays dirty to win."

The boy’s smile cracked slightly, but before he could answer, a movement behind him caught both of their attention.

«I don’t think he wants to write about you,» said a familiar, low, and tense voice.

Jungwon was there. Hair sprawled, a small wound on the eyebrow that bled slightly, and an expression that promised trouble.

The Panther’s pilot smiled, raising his hands in surrender. "Oh, there it is. I thought you were still licking your off-piste wounds."

He didn’t have time to finish the sentence. Jungwon advanced with a lightning move and punched him straight in the face. The boy staggered back, a hand to his nose.

«If you want to win, do it playing clean» growled Jungwon, his voice low but full of anger.

Stood still, my heart beating like a bat. You had never seen Jungwon so full of fury and determination.

He turned to you, his feline eyes staring at you with an intensity that made you hold your breath.

«Is everything okay?» he asked you, his voice suddenly quieter.

You are slow and unable to formulate a response. He watched you for a moment longer, then turned to the pilot of the Panther, who was still recovering.

«Never come near her again,» said Jungwon, his voice dangerously low. And with those words, he took your hand and led you away from the crowd, leaving chaos behind.

You found yourself catapulted into the car of Jungwon, almost without realizing how it happened. He was furious, his face tense and his cat eyes shone with a disturbing intensity. His hands held the steering wheel tightly, and the silence in the car was broken only by the soft hum of the engine.

You look around nervously, trying to figure out where you are going. You did not dare to speak, but you could not ignore the charged energy that was breathed into the air.

In the end, Jungwon stopped in a poorly lit parking lot, away from the chaos of the race and the festivities. He turned off the engine but said nothing for a moment. He ran his hand through his hair, visibly irritated, and then turned to you, approaching dangerously.

«What the hell were you thinking, Y/n?» he growled, his voice low but full of anger.

You stared at him, confused and slightly intimidated. "I... was working. I just asked questions and took notes for the piece I have to write."

Jungwon came even closer, his eyes peering at you. «Working? With that ridiculous little skirt and the top that leaves everything in sight? Where is the good girl I kissed the other day?»

You looked at him, surprised and irritated by her reaction. "Sorry?! What’s the matter, Jungwon? It’s not your concern what I’m wearing. And, for your information, I’m still the same person, even if I don’t dress like a nun to come to these stupid races!"

He raised an eyebrow, the sneer smile returning to his face. «Ah, so now you like to be a rebel? Interesting.»

"It’s not about rebellion!" you broke off with your arms crossed. "And stop judging me. It’s you who runs illegally, not me."

For a moment, Jungwon stared at you in silence, then his smile went out, and his gaze became more serious. «I don’t want you to get into trouble. Not with people like that, and certainly not in a place like this."

You were silent, struck by the sincerity in her voice, but you didn’t want to give it up. "I’m not a child, Jungwon. I can take care of myself."

Now your faces were a few inches apart. «You don’t understand, do you? It’s not just about looking after yourself. I can’t stand the idea that someone else could even look at you like that guy did.»

You suddenly felt confused and vulnerable under his intense gaze. "Jungwon..."

But he didn’t give you the time. With a strong gesture, he took you by the face and kissed you, his lips pressing against yours with overwhelming confidence, but not without sweetness. It was a kiss that spoke of unresolved emotions, confusion, and desire.

You stood still for a moment, but then you let go, returning the kiss. You didn’t know what that meant, but at the time, in his arms, you felt inexplicably safe, even though Jungwon represented everything he had to avoid.

The anger, tension, and that strange, irresistible attraction that Jungwon seemed to be kindling in you all exploded at once. You grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and pulled him towards you, kissing him again with more passion, as if you wanted to make him understand once and for all how confused she was, but also how lost you were for him.

Your hands trembled as they sat on Jungwon’s sculpted chest. You felt the muscles twitch under your fingers as if he was struggling to keep control. The heat emanating seemed to burn her skin, but she did not want to stop.

Between one kiss and the next, he pulled away slightly, his lips still dangerously close to hers. «Wait,» he muttered, with a smile that seemed to hide a thousand secrets. «Move slightly from the seat.»

You looked at him, confused, as he moved swiftly into the passenger seat. She pointed with a sure nod to his lap. «Sit here.»

You stared at him with wide eyes, heart pounding in your chest. "Jungwon, we’re in public..."

He chuckled, the sound low and incredibly charming. «Nobody is watching us. And even if they did... who cares? Trust me.»

After a moment of hesitation, you moved in embarrassment, and you sat on his legs. Your arms instinctively clenched around Jungwon’s neck, as he laid his hands on his hips, holding you firmly against him.

«See?» he whispered, in a tone that had a disarmingly sweet sweetness. «There is nothing to be afraid of.»

He, on the other hand, seemed comfortable, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed a darker depth. His fingers began to trace little circles on your hips, and his smile became more intense.

«You’re so beautiful,» he said, his tone suddenly serious, as he stared at you as if you were the only thing that mattered to him in the world. «You don’t realize what you’re doing to me, do you?»

You shook your head slightly, unable to find the words.

He tilted his head, his gaze becoming darker but at the same time incredibly sweet.

«I don’t want anyone to look at you the way I do. Is that a problem?»

"Jungwon..." you mumbled, but he didn’t give her time to continue.

He drew his lips to your ear like a kitten huddled in its den, sank his face against his neck, inhaled your scent, squeezed you tighter, and began kissing you and making little pacifiers.

«You are so sensitive,» he murmured, as he heard how you tried to deny the moans of pleasure. «I love to see how you react to me, I bet no one has made you feel like this in your life, princess.»

This time she touched the edge of your lace panties slightly.

"Jungwon.... not here," You said as you felt his big fingers sear your panties.

Your words seemed to light something in Jungwon. His smile grew wider and more dangerous, and a bad boy’s flash lit up his face. «Oh, princess» he whispered, tilting his head slightly as his hands slid into her life. «I want everything of you... but I’m not sure I can wait.»

Before you could answer, his fingers moved with an exasperating slowness under your skirt, and he began to draw light circles as you felt that slowly you were already excited for him. You held your breath, feeling the heat that spread throughout your body.

Jungwon, amused by your reaction, drew little circles with his fingers, stroking the slightly moist fabric. «So wet»

You whispered in a tone that mixed sweetness and provocation. «Is this all for me?»

You nodded weakly with your face becoming increasingly red.

He came near your ear again, letting his warm breath caress her skin. «I would like to take everything of you now, but not in this car. Not like that. You deserve more.»

Despite his words, he did not stop at all. He started touching your pussy but a grin formed on his face and looked as if there was someone outside and with a strong movement touched the lever that was under the seat and lowered it. «Lie down Y/n, I will make you feel good while I kneel.» Jungwon laid you down in the seat and began to slide his hands on one of your legs, lifting it to leave a kiss trail up to your thigh, Stopping occasionally to admire your soft skin that was illuminated by the moon and the intense look you were throwing at him. «I promise you that I will make you feel so good, you can’t be touched by any boy from today»

He moved his head under the skirt took the piece of your panties between his teeth and slowly pulled it down, moaning audibly as he watched a series of excitement drip from your heart. His cock was already pulsing in his pants but today he just wanted to make you feel good, there would be other opportunities that he would be well.

You looked at him a lot embarrassed but also extremely excited when you saw him with your panties in your mouth and pulled his hair and carried him back down into your pussy.

"Jungwon, I’m... you can lick it pls» Jungwon started laughing and tricked his tongue on your inner thigh, capturing your excitement on his tongue. «Fuck, baby, you’re so good. Let me eat your pretty pussy» You slightly widened your thighs and moaned instantly when he licked and licked, without even thinking about it, before reaching his hand behind you with his arms stretched out to pull you closer, guiding your hips down with force "Jungwon," you panicked. Your brain got a little confused as it pushed your thighs away, then lifted them up and away so that you could bury your face deeper between them. «Look at you, you’re getting your pussy licked in the middle of nowhere by the only guy you find irritating»

Jungwon took a second to smile at you, stroking your slimy thigh with his cheek, and pressing a small lingering kiss on your warm skin. His tongue was hot and wet against your pussy, practically melting against your folds, making long and deliberate passes up to your clitoris before you concentrate on it and suck it with a fervor that sent waves of pleasure.

Unable to hold your voice, you began to emit gasping and stuttering moans, unintentionally lifting yourself into his mouth as he licked and sucked your clitoris, feeling your cheeks burning more and more long he looked into your eyes.

"I am... oh my God, please" greedily caress your clitoris pulsing in quick and deliberate circles with the thumb, automatically bringing two fingers to your pussy, your greedy hole sucked them up to your knuckles, without hesitating to push them in and out of you. Once your legs hooked to her waist, she quickened and pumped the rhythm of her fingers, your moisture now so palpable that it was beginning to leak out of you.

«Come princess, only for the wildcat» you exhaled, licking your lips and savoring the remains of yourself on your tongue, Striking him in a way that made you fight the urge to let your eyes roll down to the bottom of your skull and come between his fingers and with a gesture he took her to his mouth and sucked her as if it were the best thing in this world.

Yes, he got up slightly and felt his cock and balls extremely tight and hard in the pants but it was worth it, he had just made the "good girl" come off the university and knew that she would think for not how long to this episode of him bowing to her to suck their pussy.

You had spent a few nights writing your piece, trying to maintain a balance between your natural contempt for the illegality and that subtle attraction for the adrenaline-fuelled world that you had discovered recently. In the end, you delivered your article to the local newspaper, knowing that it would create a sensation, especially among the pilots.

You described the atmosphere in vivid words, talking about the roar of engines, the smoke from tires on the asphalt, and people who seemed to live only for those moments.

Extract from the article:

"There is something irresistibly hypnotic about seeing those riders challenge everything and everyone, putting their lives on the edge of a razor for a ride of glory. But despite the obvious danger and illegality, I can not deny that I also felt the heartbeat accelerate, the shiver of every curve taken to the limit. It’s a world that makes you want more, even when you know you shouldn’t."

You also mentioned the most famous pilots, dedicating a part of his article to the young and mysterious Wildcat:

"Among the many, one stands out for his early talent and rebellious attitude: Wildcat. At just 20, he has shown a mastery of the steering wheel that defies logic. But it’s not just his ability that makes him interesting: there is an energy in him, an aura that makes him unmatched. Despite his age, he drives like he was born to do it, and there’s a dangerous confidence in his feline eyes that makes you wonder what lies behind that provocative smile. Who knows if, behind the bad boy mask, there is something more... is a bad boy as everyone says or is different with the people he loves?"

Jungwon, sitting on the couch at home, had read the article carefully. The newspaper folded on his knees, his eyes shone with a strange combination of annoyance and amusement.

'So he thinks I’m hiding something, eh?' he murmured to himself, "And it describes that adrenaline so well... Maybe she’s not so different from me after all.'

Then he stopped to read another part:

"It is clear that risk is an integral part of this world, but perhaps this is what makes it so irresistible. Once you enter, it’s hard to get out of it, especially when you meet people who seem made for living without rules. And although I do not share this lifestyle, I cannot deny that there is something fascinating about observing those who are not afraid to challenge any limit."

Jungwon laughed slowly, was it perhaps a hint of what happened in the car between the gold two the other day?

'Good girl, eh?' mumbled. 'You’re so convinced that you don’t want to be part of this world, but underneath I know you like it. And I’m the only one who can take you beyond that limit, Y/n

He decided that he could not let go of the matter. He had to see her, tease her personally, and above all make her understand that no one could talk about him in that way without suffering the consequences.

You had just come out of the shower and heard the bell ring. Your best friend was not in, and you were not expecting anyone. And on the screen of the video intercom was: Jungwon, with the folded newspaper in his hand and that dangerous smile you now recognized too well.

You opened the door, trying to keep calm. "What are you doing here?" You asked, crossing my arms.

Jungwon didn’t answer immediately, just entering with a disarming security. «So you wrote an article about the bad boys of the city Y/n? Pleased with the comments you received?» He said in a low, sharp voice, waving the newspaper before you.

"It’s just my job," you replied, trying to keep a professional tone.

Jungwon chuckled and slowly approached, leaning slightly towards you until your faces were a few inches away. «No one speaks of me in this way. Not even you.»

You instinctively backed away, but he followed you, the paper still in his hand, his eyes shining with an intensity that made her tremble. «Wildcat, eh? Feline eyes, dangerous smile... tell me, were you writing or fantasizing about me? what is it you missed already my touch?»

"Don’t get your head in the sand, Jungwon. I just brought the truth."

«Truth?» he repeated with a grin, getting even closer. «And what is the truth? That you like this world? That you like what I make you feel?»

You felt trapped, and your heart was beating too fast. "I... I don’t..."

Before you could finish the sentence, Jungwon dropped the newspaper on the counter and took you by the side, lifting you up easily and making you sit on the kitchen island. He stood between your legs, his eyes fixed on his.

«Spare me the apology,» you whispered, his voice full of desire and a touch of possession. «I know exactly what you’re trying to hide. It’s in your eyes every time you look at me.»

You tried to talk, but before you could say a word, Jungwon leaned over and kissed you with an overwhelming passion. His hands seized your hips with force, pulling you even closer as if he wanted to erase all distance.

The kiss was different from the previous ones: there was not only passion but also a kind of affirmation. He wanted you to know that you were his, that no one else could get close to you like he did. «Never again write about me in that way,» he whispered against her lips, her voice low and hoarse. «I don’t want anyone else to know how good I am at making you feel this way. This is just for us.»

Jungwon caressed your face sweetly, a striking contrast to his possessive grip on your hips.

You felt his fingers trace the skin of your hips under your shirt until it reached the breast that was completely uncovered because you had just washed, His fingers were slightly cold to contact your breast and Bud tickled you and made you slightly arch your back. «You are already so sensitive to me and i touched you only with a finger what will happen when you fuck princess?» Jungwon took off your shirt and started kissing you and tickling your breasts, your poor nipples were turgid and with one hand he held you still and with the other, he massaged you alternating to tighten your left breast. He sucked you as if he was obsessed with your breast but had other things for the head that he wanted to do, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him and he with one hand ran through your leg from the knee to the inside of the thigh, making you lose breath, a smug smile took shape on his lips as he tilted his head watching your reaction as his fingers approached your core, the tips traced him around your pajamas shorts and groans at the touch of his fingers around your core still dressed.

"Jungwon...I need" Your hand moved to touch his cock through the pants of the suit, making him moan, pulled down your pajama shorts, and when he saw that you already had your panties slightly wet a grin set up on his face, «God, already so fucking wet for me» and you kept massaging his cock, and I also took him off in his pants and made him spread a little 'the stain of the pre-ejaculate in his boxer shorts.

He took you in his arms as you kissed and kissed, and brought you to your room and laid you gently by the edge of your bed, you were perfect for him, It was months that he dreamed of fucking you and having you all to himself and finally came the time to see that the good girl who everyone loved at university was not so much a good girl when she was with him. He quickly removed your panties and his fingers finally touched your clitoris, winding around the bundle of nerves, throwing it every time you moved your hips trying to get more friction; «look at you, you are already so eager to have my fingers around you, where has the good girl gone?» You groaned and tried to move easily but Jungwon as usual was teasing you.

"Jungwon, stop being like that. We both know that underneath you were pleased with that article" Jungwon looked at you with serious eyes and without saying anything two fingers entered your already sensitive core, making you shudder.

“Fuck, oh yeah!" Jungwon started pumping your fingers slowly though and you moved so much that you accidentally touched his cock in his boxer shorts with one hand he held you tight and with the other, he touched you but Jungwon had other plans with you.

«The other day in the car I made you come, now it’s your turn to show me what you can do, I really want to see if the good girls can be good with dicks» You looked at Jungwon slightly embarrassed and opened your mouth to the surprise of his words.

Choking a groan as his fingers curled inside you again. Your hands moved quickly to lower his boxer shorts, releasing his huge cock, making you open wide eyes but your mouth was even more flooding with desire for him.

Your hand quickly distributed the pre-seminal liquid, and your thumb gently moved it while you watched his reaction, smiling at seeing that you were making him enjoy only with his cock in hand, whimpering as he added a third finger, By widening even more. Your pussy was already sore and super sensitive by the overstimulation of his fingers and you kept on teasing their cock and sucking it "Jugwon, please" the guy in front of you laughed slowly and he also mooed something incomprehensible

and said: «What do you want, use that beautiful mouth you love to tease people to tell me what my princess wants» moaning loudly when he pumped all three fingers around your pussy it was beautiful but you wanted more.

"I want...I want you, pls" When he heard those words he let out his fingers and spread your legs and your pussy was super shiny, stimulated, and ready to take his dick. His tip only went in a little to drive you crazy, but there was not much you could do while he held your legs apart and on the edge of the bed. Your hands went into his hair, pulling it slightly as you watched Jungwon’s cock disappear inside your pussy, slowly driving you crazy.

It didn’t matter if you begged him he would take it his way, he quickly pulled out all his cock before you could even get used to it if he was back in full again, and repeated it a couple more times before his hand that had been on his member before, It would move on your clitoris making circular movements as it kept burying itself deep inside you and pulling everything out. Moaning, invaded your room and you pulled him even closer to you with the other hand he stroked your cheek and put his thumb in your mouth, and sucked it slightly

«good girl» Nodded while you felt his cock now in your stomach clothing you and it was a wonderful feeling to see Jungwon so lost of you and inside you.

«Look at you, I want you to look at me and groan my name as I hear you hold me with that sweet little pussy of yours, yes?» You nodded and groaned as it hit the exact point of your G-spot and felt the overstimulation of his thumb touching your now swollen clitoris.

«Come for me, come around me, be a good girl, and come all over my dick.»

"Jungwon, please...oh fuck!"

Your high quickly found you while he kept jumping inside of you looking for his release, and you felt his seed and his cum inside you gushing out of your pussy after a while he got rid of his cock around you and gave you little kisses in your neck and made you lie down in the bed and put on his shirt and went straight to get wet clothes to take off everything, the sticky sperm from your legs and after a little while he lay down next to you and hugged you and cuddled to you placing his head in your neck and leave you small kisses and light caresses.

«I hope it didn’t hurt, princess. I... I never felt these things for a girl and you» didn’t end up gently putting your lips on hers and he smiled at you.

"I have never had these feelings for anyone but Jungwon, i don't want this thing to be just for fun…”

Jungwon hugged you and held you close to him

«No, you have not for months now mine and you have not even realized it. This thing is not only for fun for me, I want to make it work because when I win I need my journalist of trust who describes me as his Wildcat!» You laughed and it was extremely true that you and Jungwon could not be so different but at the same time, you were complementary.

Comments and reblog are appreciated❤️

©cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2025.

[smolbeanie1221]

I’m lucky enough to live in one of the light blue states, and I have family and a friend in one of the dark blue states. But I have no idea where things are going, how long my state will be relatively safe and I’ll be able to access things for transitioning when I start. I’ve already decided that if things go bad in my state, I’m moving to the dark blue state where I have family and a friend. My friend and I had jokingly over the summer talked about if I moved back there, we could get an apartment together. So I have a rough back up plan in place if needed.

But this map makes me so sad and angry to look at. I have family in Florida that I want to go see this spring, and I know I still look like my agab, so I know I wouldn’t have to worry about people freaking out that I’m trans or something. But I still don’t want to go to Florida simply because I know how bad it is there for queer people and I’m worried that there’s a small chance, I’ll just give off too much of a queer vibe to someone, or something like that happening. I don’t think it would happen, for once the fact I haven’t started transitioning yet is good. But still… it’s just so exhausting to think about.

I still remember about a year ago when I worked retail, at least every other week a customer would say “you’d be great working as x job,” and the one time a customer said “you’d be great working at Disney!” And I just paused and tried to give them a funny smile but I probably looked like I was kinda grimacing and I said “probably… but I wouldn’t be safe in Florida…” I can’t remember if I said that exactly, but that was the gist of it. I can’t remember how the customer replied, but after that conversation, I remember being stunned. I, a young American citizen, had a fear based response to the idea of working somewhere in the state of Florida, I knew it was a simple fact that I would not be safe living in that state. And I was thinking about how fucked up it was that my immediate reaction to the customer’s comment couldn’t have been, oh that sounds like fun! or anything along those lines, but instead my reaction was, fuck no I couldn’t live there because I wouldn’t be safe.

I know obviously no country is perfect, plenty of people across the world live in dangerous places, and I know that’s true in America too. But that was the first time I experienced that feeling, and it almost felt magnified because America is so often praised by its citizens as being the best place in the world to live, all men are equal, protections for minorities, etc. And yet here I was, in America, the country I was born in and raised with those same thoughts, vividly experiencing the complete opposite thing from what I should’ve been able to.

Anyways just where my thoughts took me when I saw the map this time, especially now that person is in office (I don’t even want to say his name) and I’m scared things will get so much worse all over the country.

Adult Transgender Legislative Risk Map, November 2024

[meadowfics]

cryptic

kang dae-ho x f!reader

one of the scariest things happens to you after leaving the games

warnings: cryptic pregnancy, near death, at the time I am writing this season 3 is not out yet, angst, comfort at the end

when you entered the squid games, the last person you expected to see was dae-ho.

your heart nearly stopped when you spotted him in the crowd for the six-legged pentathlon.

you had to take a double take before starting the race with your group..

yup, there he was...broad shoulders, haunted eyes, and that same furrow in his brow you used to know so well.

he froze when he saw you up there ready to play with your own group, his lips parting in disbelief, but the guards didn’t give either of you time to process it.

the game began, and survival instincts took over.

you had the fastest group, luckily.

you completed the jegi game and ran to the finish line as everyone cheered for your group.

however, your ears tuned out everyone except for dae-ho, who made sure that you witnessed his support.

waiting for his group to come back to the dorms was torture for you.

its been nearly six-months since the last time you saw your ex-boyfriend.. however, you still loved him.

he broke up with you, and you had an idea as to why.

he felt like you deserved better, in terms of finding someone who had a bit more masculinity.

you never wanted that, or anyone else.. you always wanted your dae-ho.

a glimpse of relief was caught in your eyes when his group, the last group, entered the dorms.

he spotted you and gave you a light smile, before he turned away, retreating back to his group.

you wanted to talk to him, but what could you possibly say?

throughout the night, the exhaustion that settled over you wasn’t just from the constant fear of death but from the hunger you couldn’t shake away.

those pitiful trays of food barely sustained you, and your body craved more.

you kept with your group you had in the six-legged pentathlon..

when someone in your group couldn’t stomach their meal, you always took it, masking your desperation with a lighthearted

“don’t want it to go to waste.”

deep down, you hated that you were lying, but survival had its price.

dae-ho was always watching you, even when you weren’t aware of it.

he kept his distance, knowing how complicated things were between you two, but his protective instincts never faltered.

when you almost stumbled into danger during one of the nightly fights that broke out.. he was the one who grabbed your arm.

he pulled you to safety underneath his bunk before you could get hurt.

dae-ho didn’t say much, just a light, “stay alert, don't play any heroics,” before disappearing again.

the rebellion with the guards was a turning point.

the chaos had triggered dae-ho’s ptsd, and he was trembling, muttering under his breath about orders and mistakes.

when you witnessed him dropping the jacket full of gun magazines, you jumped up from your bunk bed to jog over to him.

007 nearly did too, but you stopped him.

"I got it.. ju- just stay with your mother."

approaching dae-ho, it broke your heart to see him like that because it reminded you why he left you in the first place.

the reason for the breakup is because he thought his brokenness from the marines would be too much for you to handle.

he pushed you away before you even knew how to help.

this time, you refused to let him spiral alone.

“dae-ho, look at me,” you said softly.

you tapped on his knee while rubbing his elbow softly, some physical reassurance while his ears were blocked by his strong hands.

“you’re not in the marines right now. you’re here, on this bed.. with me..."

you mumbled...

the man flinched hearing you, which caused you to nearly flinch as well.

did he think that you were going to hit him??

"we’re going to get through this, but you need to come back to me, okay?”

it took a long moment, even after hyun-ju came back, but your voice reached him.

after a while, his breathing steadied.

the next games were brutal. human chess left you rattled, knowing how easily a single wrong move would’ve ended you.

during the monkey bars game, you thought you were done for. every muscle in your body screamed, and it felt like your arms were going to give out at any second.

as a teenager, you had superior upper body strength.. whats so different now?

your arms were shaking for those last few bars, but at least you are alive.

when you collapsed on the other side, you were still shaking.

dae-ho was there in an instant, crouching beside you and muttering something you barely caught.

“its okay, you're okay, you made it. I'm here,"

it was a miracle that both you and dae-ho made it to the end.

his group—jun-hee, myung-gi, hyun-ju, and gi-hun—were all battered but alive.

you were the sole survivor from your group, most of them dying during dongdaemun.. and the weight of that loss lingered heavy in your chest.

when the games finally ended, and the guards began preparing to release you, dae-ho pulled you aside. his hands were rough but gentle as they grasped yours, his voice low and urgent.

“i didn’t think i’d survive this, let alone see you again. but we did, and i… i want to fix things. if you’ll let me.”

his words hit you like a wave, and you knew there was no denying the truth anymore. despite everything, you still loved him. you missed him. you wanted him back in your life.

“okay, we can fix this--”

you said softly, your voice cracking.

"but dae-ho.... why did you leave?"

you nearly cried, thinking about the last time you saw dae-ho before now.

the way he left your apartment, the way you could not eat for days, you wanted to make sure that something like that did not occur again with him.

"it was not you, like I said-- I thought you deserved better than me.. someone who was stronger than me."

the man frowned.

you placed your hand on his strong bicep, just on top of his marine tattoo.. your other hand went to his face.

"dae-ho, you're the strongest man I know. even if that wasn't the case, I do not want anyone else.. ever! I just want you."

you say.

at this point, the guards start taking everyone away to go back home.

“meet me at our cafe spot in seoul on november 16th!!!"

the last thing you remembered was the sound of his voice before the guards released the gas that knocked you out.

the impact of hitting the pavement still lingered in your body as you woke up, tied up, and blindfolded.

the cold concrete under you only added to the disorientation, and your heart pounded as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

all you could see is black.

then, a voice...soft and filled with concern...called out.

“oh my god, are you okay? hold on, let me help you.”

the blindfold was pulled away, and you blinked against the sudden light.

the woman in front of you had a kind face, her brows furrowed in worry as she quickly untied the ropes around your wrists.

“who did this to you?”

“i…” you paused, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“thank you. i don’t even know.”

"do you want me to call the police for you?"

"oh no, its okay do not worry about that!"

she helped you sit up, her hands hovering as if afraid you might collapse again.

“what’s your name?”

your mind raced, but you dodged the question.

“what’s today’s date?”

her expression shifted to confusion.

“it’s november 7th.”

november 7th. you exhaled deeply, relief and anxiety warring within you. nine days until november 16th.

nine days until you’d see dae-ho again. far too long, but at least you knew where to be.

time in the games had been meaningless, stretched and warped in the absence of phones and clocks.

as you stood up, you glanced down at yourself.

your old clothes were back...a black windbreaker jacket, green cargo pants, a black shirt, and your worn out adidas sambas.

it was strange to be out of the green tracksuit you had grown accustomed to, the one that labeled you as player 399.

instinctively, you reached into your pockets and felt something solid.

pulling it out, you saw a golden debit card. you stared at it, baffled, knowing it hadn’t been yours before the games. with shaking hands, you excused yourself.

“okay.. well i’m fine, really. thank you for helping me. i just… i need a moment.”

the woman hesitated, clearly unsure about leaving you alone.

“are you sure? you don’t look fine.”

“i’ll be okay,” you insisted, forcing a smile.

“thank you again.”

only six steps away, an atm caught your eye. you slid the card into the machine, your hands trembling.

the screen loaded, and when the balance appeared, your breath hitched. 11,398,890,025.33 won.

its the money you won in the games, split between the survivors..

before you could process the shock, a sharp pain shot through your stomach.

it felt like a punch, but there was no one there.

the pain grew worse, twisting and radiating until you doubled over.

“ahhh!” you yelped, clutching your stomach as the cramps intensified.

your knees buckled, and you collapsed, gasping for air while clenching your teeth.

the woman hadn’t gone far and came running back at the sound of your cries.

“hey! what’s wrong? oh my god, are you okay?!”

she knelt beside you, her panic rising as she saw the state you were in.

“i don’t know,” you choked out, tears welling up as the pain overwhelmed you.

“it hurts—my stomach—”

“okay, okay, stay with me. breathe! i’m calling an ambulance.” she pulled out her phone, her voice trembling as she gave the dispatcher your location.

“hang in there, okay? help is on the way.”

the pain was unbearable, and your vision blurred, the edges going dark as you struggled to stay conscious.

the faint sound of the woman’s voice and the distant wail of approaching sirens were the last things you heard before everything went black.

waking up, you felt a strange tightness around your stomach and a dull ache in your body.

the beeping of machines surrounded you, and cords were attached to your belly. you blinked, your heart racing as you noticed an iv in your arm.

panic set in when you realized your clothes were gone.

sitting up too fast, you scanned the room. relief washed over you when you spotted your jacket draped over a chair.

the golden debit card was still tucked in its pocket. you exhaled shakily, clutching the fabric for reassurance.

the door creaked open, and a doctor entered..a woman with a kind face and a soft smile.

“hello! I love to see that you’re awake. that’s good,” she said gently.

“please, lay back down. you need to rest.”

reluctantly, you complied, your mind still racing.

“what happened? why am i here?”

the doctor grabbed a clipboard, jotting something down before meeting your eyes.

“i need to ask you a few questions first by obligation... how have you been feeling lately? any nausea, fatigue, or changes in appetite?”

you frowned, her questions making no sense.

“i don’t know… i thought it was just stress. why are you asking me this?”

her expression softened, and she set the clipboard aside.

“miss. l/n… you’re in labor.”

the words hit you like a freight train.

“what?!” you gasped, sitting up again, ignoring the ache in your body.

your hands instinctively flew to your stomach.

“that’s not possible. i didn’t even know i was… i mean… i can’t be pregnant!”

the doctor gave you a reassuring look.

“your bloodwork confirms it, and you’re already in active labor. you didn’t notice the signs?”

you stared at her, your mind spiraling. sure, you had a small bump, but you chalked it up to overeating during the games.

you never connected it to something like this.

“you’re 36 weeks along,” she continued gently.

“it’s a bit early, but your baby seems strong. we’ll monitor you both closely since you haven’t had prenatal care. it’s a girl, by the way.”

the revelation stole the air from your lungs. a girl. you were carrying a child...a child you hadn’t even known existed.

your heart pounded as reality crashed down on you.

“oh my god,” you whispered, tears welling up.

the doctor reached out, her tone soothing.

“is the baby’s father here? do you want us to call him?”

you shook your head, panic rising.

“i don’t know how to contact him. i don’t even have a phone.”

“that’s okay,” she said softly.

“we’ll make sure you have support. we can arrange for a doula to be with you during delivery.”

the next few hours blurred together. the contractions came faster and harder, and you clung to the voices of the doula and two doctors, their encouragement keeping you grounded.

after two hours of pushing..

“here she is,” the doctor said, placing the tiny, squirming bundle on your chest.

you stared down at your daughter, your breath catching. she was beautiful, with the softest features... dae-ho’s nose, his eyes, his face in miniature. but her lashes and lips were yours.

“hi, baby,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

she was quiet and calm, looking up at you with wide eyes. after the chaos of the past week, her presence felt like the first peaceful thing in your life.

the doctor explained that your stress likely triggered your early labor, but at 36 weeks, your daughter was healthy enough.

as the hours passed, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. she was perfect, even though the circumstances were far from it.

the looming question hung heavy in your mind...how were you going to tell dae-ho?

he was the only man you’d ever been with, the only person who could be her father.

without a phone or any way to contact him, the thought of reuniting with him felt impossible.

clutching your daughter close, you whispered a silent promise.

no matter how hard it would be, you’d find a way to tell him. he deserved to know, and your daughter deserved her father.

november 16th felt surreal as you approached the cozy cafe where you and dae-ho had agreed to meet.

your daughter was bundled up snugly in soft layers, her tiny face peeking out from the ivory blanket that kept her warm against the autumn chill.

the weight of her in your arms felt grounding, a reminder of how much had changed in such a short amount of time.

stepping inside, the familiar aroma of coffee and pastries filled the air, pulling you back to the times you had spent here with dae-ho before everything fell apart.

your eyes scanned the room until they landed on him.

he sat at a table in the corner, wearing one of the casual outfits you remembered so well...a simple black jacket over a gray hoodie and dark joggers.

it was such a stark contrast to the green tracksuit you had last seen him in during the games.

when his eyes lifted and met yours, they softened, lighting up with a mix of surprise, relief, and joy.

then, his gaze dropped to the baby in your arms, and his expression froze, his eyes widening in shock.

he stood as you approached, his movements hesitant but filled with emotion.

“hey,” he greeted, his voice quiet but trembling slightly.

“hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you stopped in front of him. you glanced down at your daughter, then back at him.

“she’s yours.”

dae-ho’s breath hitched as his eyes locked onto the tiny bundle in your arms.

“mine?” he asked, his voice cracking.

he reached out cautiously, his large hands trembling as they hovered near her, afraid to touch but desperate to hold.

you nodded, gently placing your daughter in his arms.

“yeah. she’s our daughter, dae-ho. eight days old.”

the moment he held her, his composure shattered. his hands cradled her so delicately, as though she were made of the most fragile glass.

a tear escaped the corner of his eye as he looked down at her, his lips parting in awe.

“you were pregnant?” he finally managed to ask, his voice thick with emotion.

you nodded again, swallowing hard.

“i didn’t know. not at any point throughout the nine months.. not until after the games, when they dropped me off. i thought the cramps were just stress, but then… i went into labor. the doctors said I had a cryptic pregnancy, their first ever in their careers actually.”

dae-ho looked at her tiny face, taking in every feature—the little nose, the faint dimple in her cheek.

“she looks just like…” he trailed off, blinking rapidly.

“she looks like my second oldest sister.”

“she does,” you agreed softly, watching the way your daughter gazed up at him with pure love in her sleepy eyes.

his voice cracked as he whispered,

“i should’ve been there. i should’ve…” he paused, guilt flickering across his face.

“i wish i had known. i’m sorry i wasn’t there for you.”

you shook your head, reaching out to touch his arm.

“dae-ho, none of this is your fault. the circumstances… none of it was in our control. you’re here now, you have us.. and that’s what matters.”

he looked up at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“i promise you,” he said, his voice firm but filled with emotion, “i’m going to be here for both of you. no more running, no more excuses. we’ll be a family, and we’ll put everything from the games behind us.”

you nodded, tears streaming down your face as you watched him hold your daughter like she was the most precious thing in the world.

her tiny fingers curled around his thumb, and his heart seemed to melt at the sight.

the three of you will make it this work. you’d leave the trauma of the past behind and move forward

together.

masterlist

[dawngyu]

Official Teaser: The Slow Surrender

Pairing: chaebol choi beomgyu x chaebol fem!reader Genre: arranged marriage au, infidelity, angst, toxic dynamics, emotional distress, lovelorn, pregnancy, slow-burn (more to be added)

You never wanted to fear him.

The way he looks at you, storm brewing behind his eyes—dark, makes you feel small. The way you always feel invisible, as if you don’t even belong in his world. The absence of words, the silence that's stretched between you like a line you cannot ever cross.

This space, where you are supposed to build a family, where love is supposed to be—is nothing but a cold place to you.

"Do you think I don’t know what you have done?" tasted bitter on your tongue. His eyes flicker toward you for just a second—a split second, just long enough to know that he heard—but there is nothing in them. No resolve. Nothing.

Time ticked. He doesn’t even try to explain. Doesn’t even look at you long enough for you to find a trace of the man you once thought you knew. His thumb brushes over his ring like it’s something he’s forgotten. A ring that should have meant forever.

He's back at it. Avoiding your gaze like it's an intrusion in his life.

The same fear creeps in. The fear that you’re losing something you never truly had. Your heart presses painfully against your chest—and your ring, now too heavy in your palm.

Your deepest fear.

Your husband.

RELEASE DATE: FEBRUARY 1st, 2025 12:00 PM MST.

Notes: uh, surprise? This will be released before Rain Lilies. It's my heaviest piece so far and I can't wait to bring this here.

Taglist: Open! You can leave a comment if you want to be tagged.

[oncasette]

𝗦𝗞𝗬'𝗦 𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗕𝗟𝗨𝗘

caleb xia x fem!reader, boyfriend!rafayel qi x fem!reader

summary: 1.0k

He doesn’t know what he expected. For you to wait for him? For you to mourn him to the point of never moving on, if there was something to move on from in the first place? To you, he was dead for a year. He’d just have to live with the consequences of that.

or the one where you convince caleb to come with to you an art exhibit in which he learns more about who you've been hanging around since he's been gone.

content: jealousy, unrequited love

masterlist | beat you to it masterlist

When you had initially invited Caleb along to an art exhibition, he’d been confused. Don’t get him wrong, he was happy to go with you–more than happy to accompany you on what he thought to be the first of many date-like outings since he’d come back, saying yes with a dopey grin on his face–but this hadn’t ever really been his scene. Or, your scene, for that matter. He remembers the field trip your class had taken back in grade school to the Linkon City Art Museum, when you were still only single-digited in age, and how you’d begged Gran to let you stay home for weeks prior. Even the morning of, when you’d pretended to have the flu by sticking your thermometer in front of the space heater in your bedroom.

So, for you to now be dragging him along to some artists’ showing by choice… yeah, he was questioning things. You’d simply shrugged your shoulders when he’d asked the day before, smiling softly, “I know the artist.”

“Oh…” he’d said. “That Rafayel guy? The one who pays you to go on trips with him?”

It should’ve clicked then, he thinks, rather than after you’d already dragged him through dozens of paintings he could care less about, only to stumble up to the final piece which was undeniably a portrait of you. In molten shades of reds and violets, the colors blended your features into something divine. Something worth worshipping, if he hadn’t already been prepared to drop to his knees for you before you had the chance to ask.

Caleb’s jaw nearly dropped, his hold on your hand loosening as he let you step closer to the painting. It was beautiful, truly, the only artwork he thinks he would hang on his walls if given the chance. But, then again, what was this Rafayel guy doing painting such a portrait of his girl. 

“Hey, pipsqueak?” he asks. The sound comes out, but it sounds distant. Far away from the cotton currently filling his brain. 

You turn to face him with that cheeky grin he remembers from so long ago, the nostalgia tugging even harder at his heart. You were still that same girl he’d fallen for all those years ago. The only girl he’d fallen for, and probably ever would.

“Yeah?” you ask.

“Aren’t you his bodyguard?” he asks, more for reassurance of his own thoughts than anything else. Aren’t you just his bodyguard?

You nod, returning back to his side. For some reason, it didn’t give him the assurance he wanted. Then, with a flicker of your eye line, your attention on him wavers. In an instant, it’s like you’ve forgotten him.

“Raf!” you squeal, wandering away from him to throw your arms around a purple haired man in a navy suit. 

“Hey, cutie,” the man snickers, lifting your feet up and off of the ground as he accepts your embrace. “How’d you like it?”

He nods toward the portrait behind you. Your eyes don’t leave his even as you nod enthusiastically. Rafayel’s smile softens a bit as he sets you back down, lifting his hands to your cheeks to pull you into a reserved kiss. Caleb thinks about excusing himself to go and throw up in the restroom. 

“Oh! Raf, this is Caleb,” you say as you tilt your head to face your childhood friend. So you do remember him. Rafayel nods as he sticks his hand out to shake Caleb’s, a gesture he tentatively takes. 

“Pleasure,” Rafayel hums. His arm wraps around your waist. The look you give the artist, your head resting delicately on his shoulder, has Caleb’s stomach churning further. He hadn’t realized how moon-eyed you’d been over him as a child until he saw that gaze turned onto someone else. 

Rafayel blinks a few times, tilting his head as he squares up Caleb. It feels like a laser focused on the raw points of his heart, exposed and beating and freshly bruised. Though it feels like hours, in a moment the artist’s gaze returns to you.

“Are you coming to dinner with me and Thomas tonight?” he asks.

“Dinner?” Caleb’s throat is dry and he nearly coughs the statement out. 

“My beloved usually joins me for celebratory dinners after these exhibitions,” Rafayel says, using his spare hand to cradle the side of your head briefly. You hadn’t mentioned anything about dinner. Caleb had already been planning on making something when you got back home. 

“I told you I couldn’t,” you say, poking the pout that appeared on Rafayel’s lips. The pilot bit his cheek. Hard. “Caleb’s staying with me for a bit. Remember?”

“You should go,” Caleb hears himself say. He’s off somewhere else in his mind, watching these events unfold before him. He’s sitting in the attic of your old house, a hand wrapped tight around yours with you kneeling between his spread thighs. You don’t need him anymore. That’s what you’d said.

“Really?” you ask. “You think you can make it back to my apartment okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I can get there alright. I’ll wait up for you,” he swallows. 

“You don’t have to do that. I’m not sure when I’ll make it back,” you say softly, reaching out a hand to rest gently on his shoulder. It’s fire and ice all at once. All Caleb can do is nod helplessly.

It’s not long before Rafayel is ushering you away from him fully, whispering things he can’t hear–and, likely, doesn’t want to–while he continues to stand there at the heart of the exhibit. There’s a couple of paintings surrounding the painting of you. Various land and oceanscapes strung together in violets and maroons. Periwinkles, navys, ocean skylines that have him craving the comfort the clouds give him back in Skyhaven. 

He doesn’t know what he expected. For you to wait for him? For you to mourn him to the point of never moving on, if there was something to move on from in the first place? To you, he was dead for a year. He’d just have to live with the consequences of that. 

[euphoria-looney]

Thank you... for playing with me.

Pt.1

Bake No Hana (Nightcord at 25:00 ft. Kaito)

"It's finally come around, my punishment for having been born. In order to put an end to it, I stop breathing— Ah, I'm fed up with this."

I approached the girl who chose me last round, Penelope. I called her Penny though, and thought the name was cute.

It suits her.

Last round I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to do, but she pulled me into her group, and even against the male group, we won!

It didn’t help that crunch that echoed across the room each time a team lost though, Astro has been colder than ever and the old guy got separated from me before I could follow him. I think it was fate that we all ended up on the same team.

I’m trying to sound positive because, at this moment in time, I have gone too far to give up now, whether that be hope or, the sick truth, for the money.

My mind is always racing and is looking for the truth that I’m hiding from myself. 

I’ve killed people intentionally or not, just to keep going for a cash prize that I’m not even sure I’ll win.

This isn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

I’ve said that line so many times.

When I was 5 and my mother ran away, that wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

When I kept getting neglected and abused in the manor, that wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

When I got kicked out at the mere age of 18, That wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

Getting into debt and sinking deeper into the amount needed to pay back, I bet you can think of the line I said next.

And now with all the corpses I’ve been near, the money dropping into the pig, the masked soldiers that looked upon you with their weapons, was this really how I was going to be free from debt? Was this the situation I wanted to be in?

“Hey!” Penny turned to look at me.

“Want to pair up?” I tilted my head at her.

“Why should I?”

“I don’t picture you going around here and begging these jerks.” I looked around at our options.

“Wouldn’t that bother you?” I raised an eyebrow to her.

“Bothering me or not isn’t the concern, winning or losing is.” Despite that, she didn’t make any plans to move away from me.

I cheered fondly at her.

“Then play with me, I’ll make sure you’ll win.”

“What will you do?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“... What do you see in me?” 

“Well, I wanted to ask you that.”

“You were someone who looked like they would come with me.”

“I feel the same way.” I raised my hand offering a handshake.

She took my hand, so warm compared to how she acted, and I tightened the grip before releasing her hand.

I’m glad we got the teams out of the way before the timer ended.

—

Third POV

“Alright, there's a five-minute break before the games start, my good sirs. Do whatever you’d like before coming back to meet up and enjoy the show, they’ll be playing marble games.” The frontman announced before everyone dispersed.

“What was that imbecile thinking, joining a game like this? She even had the option to leave and she chose to come back?!” Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes out of agitation.

“They did…” Duke murmured.

“No, they didn’t.” Damian looked at Duke as if he were mad.

“Yes, they did, a while back? You were there and berated them for acting like their mother…” Duke rebutted.

“That must’ve felt so humiliating…”

Dick rubbed his arm.

“... she was probably terrified to face you again, especially with how you treated her…”

Damian piped down after that.

“You’re not any better than us, Duke. You also shunned them away,” Tim said, defending himself and the others.

“I’m not saying I’m better than anyone and this doesn’t excuse what I did but all of you guys made it known through the whole manor that she was just like her mother, so greedy for money that even when she had too much she wanted more, is that what we’re seeing in front of us though?! A girl who's so loaded but still wants more?!” That left Tim speechless and guilty.

“I know what it’s like to be financially unstable, obviously after losing my parents and trying to find them it wasn’t easy, and it didn’t make it any easier with not even a penny in my pocket, so these people “killing themselves for a little money” even though it’s a life or death situation, that’s no different then being “free” out there, especially not in Gotham. So when Bruce rescued me and treated me with kindness and support, I thought that all his kids got this treatment, but now you guys want to berate her and call her an idiot but she was forced into this position…”

He turned to Bruce but was only met with the man looking away.

“Maybe when she left this game, she realized her life wasn’t meant enough and came back to this dehumanizing environment, she didn’t come for us to help her because of the memories of last time, she probably was so nervous always walking on eggshells around us that the moment we rejected her she knew that this was her only option.”

Jason knew it wasn’t targeted specifically at him, but at one point, he knew he had a bond with [name], that innocent kid with those cute bug eyes and that gummy smile. They had something special. Then he died and came back with the news. At that moment, he couldn’t help but feel betrayed by [name]’s mom. With everything that had happened to him,, he had changed his character, so with no one to blame…

Well, you are your mother’s daughter.

Doesn’t the saying go ‘like mother, like daughter?’

Also, the situation didn’t help with him constantly not talking to her, you’d have understood the feeling he got when she came to the manor after being kicked out just to beg for money?

He seriously could not blame the situation on you, did he, or did he forget that he contributed to it too?

The ignoring, the sneering, the insults, how one looks from the person she trusted the most could shatter her heart.

And of course that would be the first conversation she had with you... You didn’t talk to her.

“Well, did you guys hear what she said to that other girl, seems she has no plans-”

A knock interrupted the chat.

“I’m sorry sirs, but the games are starting. May I have your bets?”

“240”

“Wow, all of you, just in case she ever loses, would you guys like to buy her body? I assume you’re family and had an interest in that girl?”

“You!-” Damian was stopped by Bruce, who also had his hands clenched in anger.

“Thank you, that would be appreciated.” Smiled Bruce.

“Of course, and I didn’t mean you lose the bet, it’s just that the odds are against some players and good for others.” The Frontman nodded before heading off.

“Don’t worry, guys. Just hang on. I’m finding the location as fast as I can,” Oracle said through the earpiece before they left for the lounge.

Their nice, comfortable lounge.

—

If I am ready to die, why not know a little bit more about the person I’m spending my last moments with?

“You know~ since the last Joker attack nothing has been this tragic…”

“What game are we playing?” No small talk then… but that’s okay.

“Dang, you’re cold as ice.”

“What game are we playing, girl?”

“You tell me. These games are probably only known to these oldies, tell you what let’s make our own game, ten marbles we could do anything with that.

“So let’s… end this game in a single round.” I looked down at my lap.

“All or nothing. A simple bet.” I looked back at her again with my stupid smile that showed my gums and tilted my head.

It was something I was used to doing a lot as a kid.

I don’t know why I’m acting like this, maybe it’s because my misery will finally end.

That took a dark turn. Let’s get back on track.

“Don’t tell me you’d… rather do what they’re doing?” 

We looked at the old guys behind Penny, throwing their marbles that hit against each other. What was the purpose of the game?

Get the other players' marbles out before they do.

“Okay. Playing what then?” 

I huffed in amusement. 

“What’s with the hurry?” 

“You’re just dying to kill me, huh?” I teased

That was a rhetorical question, we both knew it…

At least I knew it was.

“We’ve got a lot of time on our hands, and we’re playing one round. What’s the rush?”

“What are we gonna do before then?”

“Talk” It had been a while since I’d done that with somebody in this hellhole.

“About what?” 

“Things we never told anybody about I guess.”

“One of us is gonna die, so… it doesn't matter what we tell each other. No one can really embarrass themselves anymore. Okay?”

—

“How long have you been in Gotham? It isn’t a place where one would particularly reside.” We were both sitting at the stairsteps at this point.

I started with a question.

“Just been here since I was born, my mom found the “love of her life” here. She said we’d enjoy it”

“Did you?”

“...” She didn’t reply but rather stayed silent.

“Your family, are they still here with you?”

“My brother.”

“Any parents?”

“My father died getting shot in some back alleyway, at the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

“And your mom?”

“She got high off of drugs when she lost my dad, she overdosed not too long ago and her family took her away from us blaming us for the reason she suffers. I don’t know if she’s still alive and recovering or dead.”

“Where’s your brother now then?”

“In a shelter,” she hesitated. I was asking more than giving, but she still replied, and that was enough for both of us.

“If you win this and get the money, what will you spend it on?”

“Buy a house for me and my brother, then take us somewhere else, Gotham is no place for us, even if the top schools are here, there’s a price to pay for everything.” She was right about that.

I scoffed a little bored of that answer.

“Hey~ with this amount of money you could buy that and so much more- is there anywhere you’d like to travel?”

“Houma.”

“Houma?”

She nodded her head.

“It looked peaceful and had lower crime rates than most places. It didn’t look like Gotham at all.”

I couldn’t help but huff at that.

“Hey. Don’t you think you should dream bigger, huh? Do Keystone City. Hold on– Go to Metropolis instead. They even have lower crime rates than most.

Penny finally turned her head around and looked at me for once out of this entire conversation.

“Metropolis?”

“Yeah, the Superfam lives there. You know the Kryptonite versions of the Batfam in Gotham?”

It seems she didn’t care much about superheroes which made me giggle.

“Really?”

She shook her head.

“Oh no, then we have you fix that, we’ll have a girl’s night out every week in Metropolis and get to meet the Superfam in the flesh, okay?” 

She looked away at that.

“Oh, guess we can’t both leave here?”

…

“Back when my father was alive he was the perfect guy, he was too generous for his good, I was too naive as a kid rushed into the room where he laid to rest before he was covered and saw his gorey body,” Penny told me.

“The first body I saw was this poor kid on the side of the street abandoned just like me, he died inhaling too much of Scarecrow’s gas.”

“Abandoned?”

“Oh! I haven’t told you my backstory, it’s not as tragic as yours, no. My mother married a billionaire and took cash before running away without me when I was five. Everybody blamed her actions on me, making me feel too shameless to ever ask for cash, then I got kicked out at eighteen and took too much debt for regular supplies and school debt then landed here.”

“I wonder if I had money, what would I do… Go to Houma with you?”

A silence ensued between us making me look away.

“Sorry, I forgot again.”

As the timer started running out the sun kept going down even lower. Penny stood up.

“Let’s do this.” I smiled at that.

—

Third POV

By now, some VIPs were disappointed not because they had lost money but because they had lost the guessing game of lives.

Others were happy with the result.

But for our main characters well, can you guess how they’re feeling?

Unnerved, whatever [name] was planning. Are they going to win this game, or will they lose? Would the Wayne family see their dear family die with a bullet to the head?

Bruce never meant to treat you like that, but you’d have to understand your mother betrayed him, and you were there… and you didn’t do anything.

Oh, what could you have done? 

Alert the whole house of her leaving? Then what?

It was never your fault, you did everything you could to appease them, they just never forgive your mother.

—

We stood up passing a dead body and went to an “empty” land.

“Whoever can roll it farther than the other person wins, okay?”

I let Penny get the head start.

I held my marble in my hand.

Pondering.

I didn’t have much to live for, did I?

I had no friends, no family, and nothing to my name other than the daughter of a gold digger or the bastard child.

What’s the point?

I I guess this game was pointless after all.

I let the marble slide off my hands landing a few inches from my foot.

Straightening my posture I feel Penelope approach me.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” She grabbed me by the collar of the tracksuit.

“You win, I lose.”

“Stop. Why the hell would you try to do that?” She still kept a firm hold on me.

“Butter fingers, what can I say?” I chuckled, scrunching my eyebrows at her.

“Making sure I won. Is that what this is?”

She slammed me into the wall again.

“Did you think I would be grateful? Throw it again.” She demanded.

“And I still wouldn’t be able to win.” I kept my smile on.

“Ugh, don’t be dramatic and let me die in style, hm?” 

This was the reality, and if one of us had something memorable to do once we had gotten out of there, it would be her. Wouldn’t it?

“[name], that’s bullshit! Stop acting cool and just do a real throw!”

I sighed no longer keeping my damn smile on my face.

“I have nothing.”

“What?” Penelope didn’t let go, though. It seemed like she would allow me to talk a bit more.

“You have a reason to get out of this place… I don’t.”

Penelope kept breathing shakily. 

“I thought hard about what I would do, over and over, nothing. It’s like a dead end.” I felt myself tearing up.

I didn’t want to burst out in tears, I hadn’t done that in a while. 

I’ve always hated getting emotional, but it feels like a relief to get it off my chest.

“If anybody has a reason to go back out still there, it’d be you.” I laughed despite tasting the salty tears that leaked from my eyes.

Penelope didn’t seem the type to get emotional either, though that didn’t stop her from letting a couple of tears flow.

“Don’t die here, go out there… and find a place where you and your brother can reside. Far from any crime preferably to Houma.” I chuckled.

…

As Penelope walked away, I didn’t want that to be how our interaction ended, no, not like this pathetic goodbye.

“Penny!” I wasn’t sure she’d respond to that nickname but to my surprise, she stopped.

It made me widen my eyes briefly before going into a somber expression.

I held in my tears at that moment, stabilizing my voice.

“Thank you… for playing with me.” I was glad the guard let me have my closure, you don’t think they’d have the heart with their roles.

BANG

Player 240, eliminated.

—

The blood sprayed out before her body collapsed onto the ground with a sickening thud.

This wasn’t the situation anybody wanted to be in.

— 

That’s it for now. In the next part of this option, the Batfamily will suffer and have flashbacks, as one does. If anyone has any advice on how to write some scenes, that would be spectacular.

I’ll be working on a request and then my So Much More series before getting to Astro! And then maybe the next part of this, so don’t expect it anytime soon. That’s all from me!

Taglist time! ❤

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell any wrong and tag the wrong person.

[fangdokja]

Some truths are better left buried.

❤︎ Synopsis. A charming façade hides a mind unraveling, as jealousy sinks its claws into a man obsessed with the untouchable "Ice Queen," her mysterious past igniting a sinister need to claim what was never his to own.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Friction & Fire - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 8,000

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + manipulation, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances

♡ A/N. Not me only realizing recently that this was a FINISHED work that I never posted. My drafts in Tumblr are a mess I tell you. It's like the various requests, fandoms, and works in general are mixing wahaha. YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE???? It's like I'm universe hopping in the multiverse, going to different fandoms and worlds to bring the content you all want. And, just like someone with multiple jobs and side hustles; if it's not recorded or arranged right, it gets lost to the void I tell you. wahhhhh

The office was silent except for the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard and the faint hum of the air conditioning. The morning sun bled through the blinds in fractured slivers, painting your desk in a dull, sterile glow. You sat across from him, your shoulders squared, your focus unyielding as you combed through line after line of data.

And yet, despite the quiet, he could feel the tension lingering between you like a living thing.

It was still on his mind.

He wasn’t the type to fixate—hell, he prided himself on letting things roll off his back—but this? The thought of your first kiss, of the strange, detached way you spoke about it last night, had lodged itself in his brain like a splinter.

He leaned back in his chair, one leg lazily draped over the other as he watched you with sharp, predatory focus. On the surface, he looked relaxed, his usual cocky nonchalance on full display. But beneath it, his mind was a storm.

“You know,” he began, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife, “last night got me thinking.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. Your fingers danced across the keys, swift and precise, as though you hadn’t heard him at all.

He smiled, leaning forward just enough to rest his elbows on the table. “For someone who’s so good at everything, you sure don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

Still, you gave him nothing. Not a word. Not a glance.

He didn’t let it deter him. If anything, your silence only spurred him on.

“So, first kiss,” he said, his tone as light as a feather, casual enough to sound innocent. “When was it? And don’t give me that ‘transaction’ excuse. I want details.”

Your fingers paused for half a second—so brief it was barely noticeable—but it was enough to make his grin widen.

“I’m working,” you said flatly, your voice like steel.

“And I’m curious,” he shot back smoothly, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “Come on, indulge me a little. Was it some rich heir your parents set you up with? Or…” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Was it someone you actually liked?”

You exhaled slowly, your gaze still fixed on your screen. “Drop it.”

“Oh, I would,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, more insidious tone. “But it’s kind of hard to stop wondering when you’re so damn mysterious about everything. I mean, it’s not like I’m asking for state secrets here. Just a name. Or a story. Something.”

Your fingers hit the keys a little harder now, your movements growing sharper, but you still refused to look at him.

He leaned back again, tapping his pen idly against the table, his expression deceptively calm. “Okay, fine. Let’s broaden the topic. Ever had any other boyfriends? Or am I the only one lucky enough to deal with your charming personality?”

The sarcasm in his tone was sharp, but it wasn’t enough to mask the strange, simmering edge beneath it.

“Work,” you said simply, not bothering to look at him.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” He leaned forward again, his voice growing louder, though his grin remained firmly in place. “You’re like a damn iron wall. It’s impressive, really. But also kind of annoying.”

You finally paused, your hands hovering above the keyboard as you turned to meet his gaze. Your expression was calm, cold, and utterly unreadable. “If I don’t answer,” you said, your voice low and measured, “will you stop asking?”

“Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening into something wolfish.

You sighed, turning back to your screen. “Then keep asking. It won’t change anything.”

He let out a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something else there now, something darker and more insistent, coiling tightly in his chest.

He didn’t know why this mattered so much. Why the thought of someone else—someone before him—made his jaw clench and his stomach churn. But the idea wouldn’t let him go.

“Fair enough,” he said finally, his voice dropping into a softer, almost dangerous tone. “But don’t think I’m letting this go. Sooner or later, princess, I’ll get you to crack.”

Your silence was answer enough. But the faint flicker of annoyance in your eyes as you typed? That was all the encouragement he needed.

———

The late afternoon sun filtered through the office windows, casting long, golden streaks across the sterile desks. Papers and coffee cups littered the space, evidence of a day stretched too long. You sat at your desk, immersed in another report, your brow furrowed in concentration. The tension that had gripped you for days had finally loosened, and though your posture remained rigid, there was an air of calm about you now.

It was a calm he intended to disrupt.

He stretched lazily from his chair, a satisfied smirk curling his lips as he sauntered over to your side. His steps were slow, deliberate, the kind of gait that was both casual and predatory. Leaning down just slightly, he peered over your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

"Still working, huh? You're really setting a new standard for the term 'workaholic.' Should I be worried you're cheating on me with a spreadsheet?" His voice was light, teasing, but there was a flicker of something sharper beneath it.

You didn’t even glance his way. "Your jokes are terrible."

"Terrible? Wow, you wound me," he said, clutching at his chest as if your words had pierced his heart. But his grin didn’t waver. Instead, he slid closer, resting a hand casually on the back of your chair. "Seriously, though. You’re in a much better mood now. My charm’s working, isn’t it?"

"Or maybe I’m just ignoring you," you replied dryly, typing without pause.

He chuckled, his laughter rich and low. "Ignoring me? Oh, sweetheart, if you were ignoring me, you wouldn’t have responded at all."

You sighed, still refusing to meet his gaze. He watched you intently, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, the subtle movements of your lips as you murmured something under your breath. For a moment, he was silent, caught in the strange, unfamiliar pull of wanting to touch you—not for show, not as part of this ridiculous transactional arrangement, but because he wanted to feel the solidity of you beneath his hands.

So, he acted.

Before you could react, his arms were around you, pulling you into a firm, almost possessive embrace. He buried his face against your hair, his lips brushing against your temple in a gesture that was disarmingly tender.

You stiffened but didn’t pull away. Not yet.

"Not in public," you said flatly, your tone devoid of emotion.

He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. "We’re in an office. No one’s here but us. Doesn’t count."

You sighed, finally turning your head just enough to give him a withering look. "Still. Stop."

"Stop what?" he teased, his grin widening. He tilted his head, pressing his lips to your cheek in a playful kiss, lingering just enough to make your expression harden. "I’m just fulfilling my boyfriend duties. What, you don’t want me to be affectionate?"

"This isn’t affection. It’s a distraction," you retorted, your voice sharp but your body strangely still in his hold.

"Oh, so you do know what affection is. I was beginning to think you were allergic to it," he quipped, his arms tightening slightly as if daring you to push him away.

But you didn’t. Not yet.

His gaze drifted down to your lips again, unbidden memories of last night creeping into his mind. The way you’d slapped him, the way you’d rubbed at your mouth as if scrubbing him off—it had stung. More than he wanted to admit. And then you’d dropped that bomb about it not being your first kiss. That knowledge sat heavy in his chest now, simmering with something dark and ugly.

Jealousy.

He hated the word, hated the feeling even more. But there it was, coiled tight around his thoughts, tainting everything.

"Hey," he said suddenly, his voice softer, almost coaxing. "You never did tell me about your first kiss."

"Drop it," you said firmly, shifting in his hold.

"Come on," he pressed, his tone still light but his grip on you unyielding. "It’s not like I’m going to judge. I’m just… curious."

"I said drop it." This time, your voice had an edge to it, and you finally moved to shrug him off.

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression carefully masked with that infuriating grin. "Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. For now."

You narrowed your eyes at him but said nothing, turning back to your work.

Still, his hands lingered, his fingers brushing over your arm in a way that felt deliberate. He smiled to himself, his mind churning with thoughts he didn’t want to dissect too closely.

Transactional or not, he was still your boyfriend. Your first boyfriend. The only one you had now.

And that? That was enough. For now.

────────────

The garage hummed with a low din: the scrape of pool cues against felt, the occasional clink of beer bottles, and the raucous laughter of his friends echoing off the cement walls. The air reeked of oil, sweat, and cheap cologne, a heady cocktail that somehow felt like home. He leaned against the pool table, a cue stick balanced lazily in one hand as his gaze drifted—unfocused, distant, and entirely unlike him.

“You good, man?” One of the guys leaned in, squinting at him. “You’ve been off all night. Usually, you’re the one running your mouth the loudest. What gives?”

He blinked, snapping out of his trance, and a lazy grin slid across his face. “What? I’m just letting you losers have your moment. Can’t have me wiping the floor with you every game.”

The group laughed, though the scrutiny didn’t ease. Someone else chimed in, gesturing toward him with a beer bottle. “Nah, nah, there’s something going on. You’ve been staring off into space like you’re in some indie movie montage. What’s eating you?”

He rolled his eyes, straightening up and spinning the cue stick in his hand. “Nothing’s eating me. You guys are just too boring to hold my attention.”

The teasing jabs came quick after that, each more ridiculous than the last. “Oh, I know what it is,” one of the guys said, smirking. “It’s that ice queen of his. What’s her name again? Miss ‘I’m too good for this world’?”

A chorus of laughter erupted, and he smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You mean my girlfriend?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, you wish you could land someone like her. Don’t be jealous just ’cause I’ve got taste.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” Another guy leaned in, grinning. “Man, you’ve never been serious about anyone in your life. What’s the deal? She finally melt that big ‘I don’t care about anything’ heart of yours?”

He snorted, the sound sharp and dismissive. “As if. It’s a transactional thing, remember? Don’t go reading any Nicholas Sparks nonsense into it.” He paused, spinning the cue stick once more before adding, almost offhandedly, “Though she did mention something interesting.”

That got their attention. “Oh?” one of them said, his tone dripping with curiosity. “What’s that?”

“She’s got a past,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “Romantic history or whatever.”

There was a beat of stunned silence before the room erupted into laughter again.

“Her? No way!” one of them wheezed, slapping his knee. “You’re telling me the Ice Queen actually let someone get close to her? Hell, I thought she’d freeze anyone who tried.”

“Right? She barely tolerates him,” another joked, pointing at him with a pool cue. “And he’s the boyfriend! Can you imagine anyone else even standing a chance?”

He shrugged, the grin on his face sharp and self-assured, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “Hey, I’m just as shocked as you guys. But yeah, apparently she’s kissed someone before. Wild, right?”

“Pfft, no way,” someone scoffed. “She’s probably messing with you. Bet she said it just to get under your skin.”

“Yeah, no offense, but she doesn’t exactly scream ‘romantic whirlwind.’ What, did she date a robot?”

The laughter rolled on, but he didn’t join in. Instead, he leaned back against the pool table, his grip tightening on the cue stick. He kept his expression light, easygoing, but inside, something coiled tighter and tighter, a venomous knot of jealousy and something he couldn’t quite name.

“Maybe she did,” he said finally, his voice smooth but edged with something razor-thin. “Or maybe she just has good taste and doesn’t fall for losers like you.”

The guys hooted and hollered, taking his words as another well-timed joke, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, his mind lingered on the thought of her—her cool, distant demeanor, the way she brushed him off like he was nothing. And yet… someone else had touched her first.

The idea churned in his gut, hot and nauseating.

Transactional or not, she was his now. Wasn’t she?

———

The laughter around him ebbed and flowed, but it barely registered. He leaned against the edge of the pool table, staring blankly at the neon beer sign on the wall. The buzz of their voices blurred into a distant hum, and his mind gnawed at the frayed edges of the conversation like a dog with a bone.

“Yo, you’re spacing out again,” one of the guys said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “What’s the deal, man? You look like someone ran over your dog.”

He smirked, forcing himself back into the moment. “Please, like I’d ever let that happen. You guys know me—cool as a cucumber.”

“Cucumber, my ass,” someone quipped. “You’ve been weird ever since you brought up her romantic history. What’s the matter, hotshot? Jealous someone else got to her first?”

The words hit like a sucker punch. Jealous? Him? Of course not. He was the picture of casual detachment, the poster boy for not giving a damn. It wasn’t like they were in love. The relationship was an agreement, a mutually beneficial arrangement. It wasn’t supposed to be messy. It wasn’t supposed to matter.

But it did.

“Jealous? Me?” He barked out a laugh, the sound a little too sharp. “C’mon, you think I care about some guy who’s probably ancient history? If anything, I’m curious. What kind of guy would even catch her eye? She’s not exactly handing out free passes.”

“Curious, huh?” One of the guys grinned, leaning against his pool cue. “Sure, let’s call it that. I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever been the possessive type.”

The comment was met with a wave of snickers, and he rolled his eyes, his grin widening. “Exactly. I’m chill. Relaxed. Totally unbothered.” He emphasized the last word, slapping the pool table for effect, but the laughter around him only grew louder.

“Yeah, sure you are,” another guy chimed in, taking a swig from his beer. “That’s why you’ve been stewing over this for, what, ten minutes now?”

He forced another laugh, but inside, the knot in his chest tightened. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t like him. He’d had plenty of relationships—flings, hookups, even a couple that could loosely be called serious—and he’d never felt like this. Never felt this gnawing, restless ache that made him want to punch a wall and pull her closer at the same time.

It wasn’t even logical. So what if she’d had someone before him? It wasn’t like he owned her. She was her own person, icy and untouchable as she was. And yet…

And yet.

The image of her brushing off his kiss the night before crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. The way she’d wiped her sleeve across her mouth, the way her voice had been sharp, cutting, when she’d told him it wasn’t her first kiss.

The thought burned.

He clenched his jaw, spinning his pool cue in his hands like a restless fidget. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t the possessive type. He was laid-back, easygoing, always ready with a joke or a grin. That was who he was. That was what made him so good at this kind of thing.

So why did the thought of her with someone else make him feel like he was coming apart at the seams?

“Alright, spill it,” one of the guys said, breaking through his spiraling thoughts. “Who was it, huh? Some prince charming? Some straight-laced business major who knows how to schmooze parents?”

He scoffed, the sound automatic. “Please. Like I’d even know. She didn’t exactly give me a play-by-play.”

“Bet it was some boring, pencil-pushing nerd,” another guy chimed in. “She seems like the type to go for someone... predictable.”

Predictable. The word grated against his nerves. Predictable wasn’t him. It wasn’t them. Their relationship, transactional as it was, wasn’t supposed to fit into neat little boxes. It was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to be different.

But here he was, sitting in a dingy garage with his friends, trying to rationalize the irrational. Trying to figure out why he cared so much about a past that wasn’t supposed to matter.

“You guys are way off,” he said finally, his tone light but his grip on the cue stick betraying him. “If she did have someone before me, they weren’t memorable. She’s with me now, isn’t she? That’s all that counts.”

“Spoken like a true charmer,” one of them teased, and he smirked, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift.

Yeah, she was with him now. That was all that mattered.

So why didn’t it feel like enough?

———

The ribbing didn’t stop. If anything, it picked up speed like a train without brakes, and he was tied to the tracks.

“You’re really off your game tonight, man,” one of them said, chalking the tip of his cue stick. “You keep spacing out, missing shots, and letting us win? That’s not you. You’re usually the one handing us our asses.”

Another chimed in, leaning against the edge of the table with a sly grin. “Seriously, you’ve got this whole garage thinking. Is the great charmer finally losing his touch? That what’s bugging you?”

He twirled his cue with exaggerated nonchalance, plastering a smirk across his face even as his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles. “Please. Like I’d ever lose my touch. I could charm the rust off a bolt if I wanted to. I’m just... keeping things interesting. Letting you guys feel like you’ve got a shot for once.”

The laughter was immediate, loud, and thoroughly unconvinced. One of them even doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“Yeah, right. You’ve been distracted all night. And don’t think we didn’t catch the little bombshell you dropped earlier. The Ice Queen has a romantic history?”

“Shocking, right?” another piped up, voice dripping with mock astonishment. “I mean, no offense, but she doesn’t seem like the type to go for you. Or anyone, really.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t interrupt, knowing that trying to stop them would only make it worse. He’d been here before—well, not exactly here, but close enough to know the best way out was to wait until they got bored.

Too bad that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

“I mean, think about it,” one of them continued, his tone growing more amused by the second. “She’s this cold, untouchable, straight-laced type. Always looks like she’s got a stick up her—”

“Careful,” he interrupted, his tone light but the edge unmistakable. The shift in the air was subtle but palpable, like the faint scent of ozone before a storm.

The guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. My bad. I was just saying—she’s not exactly your usual type. And you’re definitely not hers.”

“Yeah,” another added with a smirk. “She probably goes for, like, bookworm types. You know, the quiet, nerdy guys who read poetry and bring her tea while she’s working. The ones who wouldn’t dare try anything until they’ve written a formal letter asking for permission.”

That earned a round of chuckles, and his smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Not that anyone else noticed—they were too busy piling on.

“Yeah, man, face it. You’re too loud, too flashy. She probably thinks you’re just a walking ego trip. All charm, no substance.”

“Exactly,” someone else added. “It’s probably why your charm doesn’t work on her. She’s immune. Bet she’s only with you because it’s convenient or something.”

The words hit harder than they should have, slipping under his skin and sticking there like splinters. He forced out a laugh, sharp and just a little too loud. “Convenient? Yeah, right. She’s lucky to have me. I’m the full package: brains, brawn, and a personality that makes life interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?” another guy said, raising an eyebrow. “Or annoying? Pretty sure those are interchangeable in your case.”

“Hey, she hasn’t dumped me yet,” he shot back, deflecting with practiced ease. “That’s gotta count for something.”

But even as he spoke, the words rang hollow. His usual bravado felt like a thin shell, barely holding together under the weight of something he didn’t want to name. Something ugly, and burning, and clawing at the edges of his chest.

Jealousy.

He hated admitting it, even to himself. But the idea of her with some quiet, bookish type—the kind of guy who might actually understand her silences and match her calm, reclusive nature—was like sandpaper against his nerves.

And worse, the idea that she might prefer someone like that...

He clenched his jaw, his smirk freezing into something sharper.

“You know,” one of them said, breaking into his thoughts, “it’s kinda funny. For all your talk, you’re acting a lot like a guy who’s got something to prove. Like you actually care what she thinks.”

“I don’t,” he lied smoothly, his voice as light as air. “Why would I? It’s not like this is anything serious.”

The words tasted bitter, but he swallowed them down, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” someone said, shaking their head. “But you might want to figure it out before she realizes you’re not as cool as you think you are.”

The garage erupted into laughter again, and he joined in, the sound loud and hollow.

But later, when he was alone, the laughter would fade, leaving only the burning question that wouldn’t let him rest:

Why did it matter so damn much?

────────────

The stars above the city burned cold, distant, and sharp as needles. The private balcony was far enough from the glittering chaos of the gala to offer a semblance of quiet, though the muffled hum of music and laughter still seeped through the glass doors. The cold air bit at your skin, but it was a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the crowd.

He leaned against the balustrade, a champagne flute dangling from his fingers, the liquid untouched and shimmering like pale gold in the faint light. His tailored suit clung to his frame, the picture of nonchalance, but his eyes betrayed him—glinting with something predatory, something calculating.

“So,” he began, his voice smooth and edged with a teasing lilt. “I was thinking.”

You didn’t bother to turn from the view of the sprawling city below. “That’s dangerous.”

He chuckled, soft and low, but there was a weight to it that made your spine stiffen. He tilted his head, watching you like a hawk sizing up its prey. “Funny. No, really, I’ve been thinking about us.”

“Us,” you echoed flatly. “The contract is clear. There’s nothing to think about.”

“Sure,” he said, pushing off the railing and stepping closer. His presence was like a shadow swallowing light, oppressive and impossible to ignore. “But I’ve been reviewing it, and I think we’ve overlooked some... fine print.”

“Fine print,” you repeated, finally turning to face him, your expression impassive. “There is no fine print. You drafted it yourself, remember?”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Which means I have the right to amend it if I see fit. And I’ve noticed a few areas that could use... adjustment.”

You crossed your arms, your gaze narrowing. “Such as?”

He stepped closer, close enough that the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the crisp night air. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was an undercurrent of something darker, something that coiled around his words like smoke.

“For one,” he began, “I think we need to establish clearer boundaries about third-party interactions. You know, to avoid misunderstandings.”

Your brow twitched. “There haven’t been any misunderstandings.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, his voice soft and coaxing, like a blade hidden in velvet. “But let’s be proactive. For instance, we should clarify what kind of behavior is acceptable when interacting with... other men.”

You stared at him, your expression as unyielding as stone. “That’s unnecessary.”

“Is it?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You don’t think it’s wise to define expectations? After all, appearances are everything. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about us.”

“People already know what this is,” you said coolly. “A performance. There’s no need to complicate it.”

“But isn’t the whole point of a performance to make it convincing?” he asked, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. “And for that, we need consistency. Unity. Which is why I propose we add a clause about exclusive proximity.”

“Exclusive proximity,” you echoed, your voice flat. “That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” he asked, tilting his head. “Think about it. If we’re seen with too many... distractions, it undermines the whole charade. It’s just common sense.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already pressing on, his words smooth and relentless.

———

The air seemed to thin as his words settled between you, the kind of silence that carried a weight far heavier than sound. He leaned closer, bracing himself against the railing with the kind of ease that betrayed the sharpness lurking beneath his carefully curated mask of charm. The city glittered below, but its brilliance felt muted compared to the fire smoldering in his gaze.

“Let me break it down,” he said, his voice silken, the edges just sharp enough to catch. “Exclusivity isn’t just about proximity. It’s about cohesion. A story without holes. Every moment you’re with someone else—a colleague, a stranger, hell, even a waiter—it opens a crack in the facade.”

Your eyes flicked to him, narrowing. “You’re reaching.”

He smiled—a wolfish, predatory thing. “Am I? Think about it. Someone catches sight of you laughing with some random nobody, and suddenly, the gossip mill is running wild. The illusion cracks. We lose credibility. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s losing.”

The venomous certainty in his tone made your stomach twist, though your face remained unreadable. “So what exactly are you proposing?”

He straightened, his shadow looming over you as if it carried a weight beyond the physical. “Ground rules. For both of us. Simple ones. For example…” He tapped a finger against the champagne flute, the ring of the glass echoing faintly. “No private conversations with anyone of interest. No one-on-one meetings without prior notice. And no touching—intentional or otherwise—unless absolutely necessary.”

Your brow arched, your lips tightening. “No touching. That’s… excessive.”

“Is it?” he shot back smoothly, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. “Think about it. Even the smallest gesture—a hand on the shoulder, a brush of fingers—can be misconstrued. Especially when it’s you.” His gaze flickered, a flash of something unspoken. “People notice you. They watch. And they talk.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back slightly against the balcony rail. “Fine. But if we’re establishing rules, they go both ways. You don’t exactly have a reputation for restraint.”

His grin widened, amusement flickering in the depths of his eyes. “Touché. Consider it mutual, then. No unnecessary interaction, no inappropriate proximity. Strictly business.”

“And why now?” you asked, your voice measured, almost detached. “Why bring this up tonight?”

For a moment, something flickered across his face—an almost imperceptible crack in the facade. But he recovered quickly, his grin sharpening. “Call it foresight. With the families involved, things get messier. More eyes, more pressure. We can’t afford to slip.”

You studied him, your silence stretching just long enough to make his fingers twitch against the railing. Finally, you inclined your head. “Fine. If that’s what it takes to keep this convincing, I’ll play along.”

He exhaled, a sound that was almost a laugh but carried none of the humor. “Good. I knew you’d see reason.” He lifted his champagne glass in a mock toast, the liquid catching the starlight like liquid fire. “To flawless performances.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to the city below. The cold bit deeper now, but you didn’t shiver. Behind you, his gaze lingered, heavy and unrelenting.

The ground rules were set, the game clearly defined. But as the night pressed on, the sense of control he so carefully clung to felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.

And it wasn’t the rules that haunted him—it was why he felt the need to create them in the first place.

———

He leaned casually against the railing, but his posture was deceptively loose, the sharp intelligence in his eyes betraying his calculated intent. The champagne glass in his hand caught the faint glow of the city below, though he hadn’t touched a drop.

“So,” he began, his tone laced with a playful edge, “while we’re ironing out the details, there’s another area I think we should revisit. Physical affection.”

Your eyes snapped to his, cold and narrowed. “What about it?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly as though considering his words carefully. “Let’s be honest. Right now, the way things are? We’re convincing, sure—but just barely. The hand-holding, the occasional arm around the waist? It’s surface-level. Anyone with half a brain can see through it.”

“That’s the point,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “It’s enough to maintain appearances without crossing unnecessary lines.”

His grin widened, but there was an almost imperceptible edge to it, a flicker of something darker in his expression. “Enough for who? The nosy old ladies at brunch? Sure. But for the vultures at this level? Not a chance. They smell weakness. And right now, what they see screams ‘contractual convenience,’ not passion. We need to up our game.”

You folded your arms across your chest, your stance unmoving. “Define ‘up our game.’”

“Well,” he said smoothly, setting the untouched glass on the railing, “kisses, for one. Not just the casual kind. Something real. Convincing. Hell, even a few heated moments in public wouldn’t hurt. And behind closed doors?” He gave a mock shrug, his grin turning teasing. “Who knows? Maybe even a little noise for the sake of appearances.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall from your skull. “You’re joking.”

“Am I?” he replied, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “Think about it. The way things are now, people will start talking. Rumors of a weak marriage. Arranged out of convenience, not love. And with you being... well, you—” his gaze flicked over you, deliberate and lingering— “it won’t take long for people to start circling. People like to test boundaries when they think they can get away with it.”

“People already talk,” you shot back. “That’s inevitable. But none of this changes the fact that this is fake. I’m not pretending that far.”

“Why not?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You’ve already agreed to exclusivity. This is just the logical next step.”

“It’s unnecessary,” you said flatly. “The exclusivity rules make sense. This? This is overreach.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost coaxing tone. “Is it, though? Think about it. If we don’t convince them, it undermines everything we’ve built. You don’t want to spend the rest of this arrangement fending off speculation and propositions, do you?”

“Speculation is manageable,” you said, your voice cool and steady. “And propositions are irrelevant. I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can,” he said, his tone light but his gaze intense. “But why should you have to? Why not just nip it in the bud? Make it clear to everyone that you’re untouchable.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, your patience fraying. “I already am untouchable.”

His grin didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something else beneath it—jealousy, sharp and bitter. “Sure. But people don’t see that. What they see is opportunity. The kind that comes from a woman who’s too beautiful, too brilliant, and too unattainable for her own good.”

The words were teasing, but the way he said them made your skin prickle. There was something possessive lurking beneath the surface, something he tried to bury beneath layers of logic and charm but couldn’t entirely hide.

“This isn’t about logic,” you said, your voice steady but edged with steel. “It’s about control. And I’m not giving you that.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin turning mischievous. “Touché. But hey, I’m just saying—when the rumors start flying and the vultures start circling, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You turned back to the city, dismissing him with a sharp glance. “Noted. But the answer is still no.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. “Fair enough. For now.”

———

The cold of the night pressed against your skin, biting and relentless, but his body, wrapped tightly around yours, was an oppressive heat you couldn’t shake. The weight of his arms on your shoulders felt heavier than it should, his fingers grazing your arms with a possessive slowness. He leaned into you, his chest firm against your back, his breath warm and invasive against your ear.

“You know,” he murmured, his tone as smooth as the glassy city lights below, “this hesitation of yours—it’s fascinating. Almost charming, in its own way. But... I can’t help but wonder.” His voice dipped lower, a silken purr laced with something darker. “What’s got you so hesitant? People do this all the time, don’t they? Even when it doesn’t mean anything.”

You stiffened, your gaze locked on the sprawling cityscape, refusing to turn. Your neutrality was a fortress, built brick by brick to withstand his probing. But his persistence was a battering ram. Slowly, deliberately, he dipped his head closer, inhaling deeply near the curve of your neck, the action intimate enough to send a shiver rippling through your body.

“Unless,” he mused, his lips curving into a smirk you couldn’t see but could feel like a knife at your throat, “it’s because of them. You know, the one who got that first kiss of yours. Was it them?”

The question hung in the air, venomous and cutting. For a fraction of a second, the apathy on your face cracked—a millisecond’s slip in the armor you wore so flawlessly. Your hand twitched, and your lips parted as though to respond, but no words came. Instead, your expression hardened once more, a glacial mask snapping back into place. Silent. Untouchable.

But he had seen it.

That brief, fleeting moment of vulnerability had told him more than you ever could. And though his smile remained, it was stretched too tight, his teeth bared in something that wasn’t amusement. His fingers dug into your shoulders, just a little too hard, before softening as if to mask the momentary lapse in control.

“Ah,” he said, the word slipping out in a low exhale, almost inaudible. He pressed closer, the air between you suffocating. “So it was them. That explains so much.”

His tone was still light, teasing, but the undercurrent of tension was unmistakable, coiling tighter and tighter beneath his practiced facade. His lips ghosted near your temple, the proximity a calculated weapon, and his fingers trailed down your arms, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

“You know,” he continued, his voice honeyed but sickly sweet, “whoever they were... they must have left quite the impression to make you this way. But I’m curious—did it mean anything to you? Or was it just... a moment?”

Your silence was deafening, a dagger plunged into the space between you.

He chuckled softly, though the sound was hollow. “Not that it matters, of course. You’re here now, with me. That’s all that really counts, isn’t it?”

But his grip tightened imperceptibly, his smile curving into something dangerous, something that betrayed the storm raging just beneath the surface. He didn’t let go. If anything, his hold on you became stronger, his presence more invasive.

And though he kept his composure, the truth was a venomous whisper in his mind, sinking its fangs deep and twisting.

Not fucking happy at all.

────────────

He didn't bring it up again. Any of it, anymore.

But, the room still felt colder than it should have. The air conditioning hummed low, but the chill that seeped into your skin wasn’t mechanical. It was the kind of cold that came from within, from the way your fingers gripped the edge of the desk too tightly, from the rigidity in your spine as you pretended not to notice the man leaning against the corner with the practiced ease of someone who could read you too well.

He’d been watching you for too long now, his gaze like a scalpel, peeling away layers you’d tried so hard to keep intact. He shifted, breaking the stillness with a deliberate, exaggerated sigh.

“You know,” he began, his voice carrying that maddeningly playful lilt, “if looks could kill, that desk would be in pieces by now. What’d it ever do to you, baby?”

You didn’t answer. Of course, you didn’t.

He moved closer, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the sterile air. The sound of his footsteps was soft but deliberate, a hunter’s tread. “Still giving me the silent treatment? Harsh. I’m starting to think you don’t appreciate my charming company.”

“Go away,” you said, your voice clipped, devoid of emotion. Your fingers tightened on the desk, a small tell he didn’t miss.

“Aw, come on,” he said, his grin audible in his voice. “Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to help. You know, as your incredibly dedicated, selfless boyfriend.” He leaned closer, his hand resting on the back of your chair. “And let’s face it, I’m the only person who’d put up with you when you’re like this.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t look at him. It was exactly the reaction he wanted.

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone shifting to something softer but no less teasing. “What’s going on? You’re more wound up than usual, and that’s saying something.”

“I’m fine,” you said, the words flat, a wall slamming down between you.

“Sure you are,” he said, circling around to lean on the desk beside you. He crossed his arms, his smirk unwavering. “You know, for someone so icy, you’re terrible at hiding when something’s bothering you.”

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated, your tone sharper now.

“And I said I don’t believe you,” he shot back, his voice light but with an edge of persistence. “C’mon, Ice Queen. What’s eating at you? Work? Family? Or did someone finally dare to make eye contact for more than three seconds?”

You ignored him, your focus locked on the papers in front of you, but he wasn’t deterred. He crouched slightly, putting himself in your line of sight.

“Look, I get it,” he said, his tone almost mockingly serious. “You’re all about the whole ‘strong, independent, untouchable’ thing. Very admirable. But newsflash, sweetheart: nobody’s that stoic all the time. Except maybe statues. And even they crack eventually.”

You pushed back from the desk abruptly, rising to your feet, but he didn’t give you space. Instead, he moved closer, his hand brushing your arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really not gonna tell me, huh?” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “Not even a hint? A clue? C’mon, I’m dying here.”

You stiffened, stepping away, but he followed, his persistence like a shadow clinging to your every move. His hand caught yours this time, his grip firm but not forceful.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head with a smirk that was all sharp edges, “this whole ‘bottling it up’ thing you do? It’s kinda cute. Annoying, but cute. But it’s also not healthy. So spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” you snapped, finally turning to face him. Your eyes were cold, your voice even colder, but he wasn’t fazed.

“Liar,” he said simply, his grin widening. “You’re terrible at it, by the way. And you know I’m not going anywhere until you give me something.”

You glared at him, your jaw tightening, but he just leaned closer, his fingers brushing against your arm. “Is it work? Someone bothering you? Or—” His tone shifted, sly and teasing now. “Wait, don’t tell me. Is it me? Did I finally get under your skin?”

“Always,” you muttered, pulling your hand free and turning away.

He laughed, the sound warm but with a sharpness that didn’t quite match. “Good. Means I’m doing my job right. But seriously, baby girl, if someone’s bothering you—besides me, obviously—you’d tell me, right?”

You didn’t answer, and for a moment, the teasing dropped from his voice entirely. He straightened, his gaze darkening as he watched you retreat to the far side of the room.

“You don’t tell anyone anything, do you?” he said softly, almost to himself. The words weren’t a question; they were a statement, heavy with an emotion he refused to name.

You paused, your back to him, but didn’t turn.

“Fine,” he said after a moment, his usual bravado snapping back into place like armor. He grinned, stepping toward you again. “Keep your secrets. But just so you know, sweetheart, I’m very good at getting what I want. And you? You’re not as unreadable as you think.”

The way he said it—soft, teasing, but with an undercurrent of something darker—sent a shiver down your spine. But you didn’t respond, and he didn’t push further. Not yet.

────────────

The glow of his laptop bathed the dim room in cold, blue light. The muffled sounds of the city filtered through the cracked window—a distant hum of engines, the occasional wail of a siren. But none of it reached him. His focus was absolute, his fingers ghosting over the keyboard with a precision that bordered on surgical.

Lines of text blurred and refreshed, tabs multiplied, searches refined. It was nothing. It was nothing. Just... research. A precaution, really. Something any diligent professional would do in his field.

"Due diligence." The phrase rolled through his mind like a soothing mantra as he adjusted his search parameters. Business students did this all the time, didn’t they? Gathering information on potential clients, tracking leads. It wasn’t unethical—it was smart. Practical. Just like he was.

His brow furrowed as the screen refreshed again, yielding nothing new. No personal social media accounts. No tagged photos. Everything you had out there was airtight—pristine. Your LinkedIn was polished to perfection, clinical and devoid of any personal flair. Your work email was meticulously professional. No footprints, no cracks.

You were a fortress, an enigma wrapped in ice, and it was maddening.

"Not even a stupid Instagram," he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing a hand through his hair. His other hand hovered over the touchpad, fingers twitching with a restless energy he couldn’t quite contain. He hated how good you were at this, at keeping the world at arm's length. It was infuriating.

And yet, it only made him more determined.

Because how else was he supposed to help you? Protect you? It wasn’t like you’d talk to him, let alone open up. You were a steel door slammed shut, your apathy the lock, and your sharp, biting tongue the key he could never quite reach.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t stalking,” he murmured, as if saying it aloud could make it true. “This is... protecting my investment.”

He winced at the word. It felt wrong somehow, but logical. The contract between you two was the foundation of your relationship, after all. If you didn’t want to share your problems with him, fine—but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. That wasn’t who he was.

“People research celebrities all the time,” he reasoned, his voice low and even, the rhythm of his own words calming. “Background checks, public records... It’s normal. It’s not like I’m invading her privacy. This is just... strategy.”

But even as he said it, a part of him bristled.

It wasn’t just strategy. And he knew it.

The truth was, it gnawed at him—the not knowing. The mystery of you was a drug he couldn’t quit, the unanswered questions keeping him awake at night. Who was the person who kissed you first? Why did your walls feel so much higher, so much thicker, lately? What the hell was going on in that brilliant, maddening head of yours?

He leaned forward again, fingers flying across the keyboard with renewed purpose. If he couldn’t ask you, he’d find out on his own. He told himself it wasn’t because he needed to know, wasn’t because the thought of anyone else touching you—or knowing you—made his stomach twist with something cold and acidic.

No, it wasn’t jealousy again. It was logic. Rationality.

But as the hours ticked by and the search grew colder, that logic began to crack.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen—one of the boys from the garage had sent a message, probably another joke about his “domestication.” He ignored it, returning his gaze to the screen.

Nothing. Again.

“Damn it,” he hissed, slamming the laptop shut with more force than necessary. He sat back, running both hands through his hair, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

You were impossible. And that impossibility—it thrilled him. Infuriated him. Tore at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out.

But he wouldn’t stop. Not until he had answers.

Because protecting you wasn’t just part of the job anymore.

It was everything.

────────────

♡ Masterlist. If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

♡ Tag List. “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach , @songbirdgardensworld

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[yutarot]

cozy. n.jm

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ childhood bff!jaemin, snowboarding au, fwb, sfw

synopsis. you and jaemin have been inseparable since you were children. when you and a few of your friends go on your annual mountain ski trip, the air grows tense when they find out that you and jaemin have been sleeping together. so what happens when an overnight snowstorm extends your trip, bringing a sudden change of plans and a very unlikely guest to your vacation: jaemins crush. will your friendship survive within the cold presence of snow or will it melt away once the sun rises.

wc: 6.8k

warnings. implied sex, suggestive, language, jaemin sucks, miscommunication (sorry), yn is wayy too nice in this

notes — ty to the anon who gave me this idea hehe i immeeediately thought of jaemin so i had to write it. i hope u enjoy this it was fun to write (also ended up being way longer than i expected butttt oh well)

the trip started 4 days ago. 

you always loved your winter ski trips. you loved the way the snow glistened under the sun, illuminating the sky line in a crisp peach orange. you loved the way you could become carefree, no worries of college or having to pick up extra shifts at the cafe. it was always perfect, a spirited culmination of a frosty vacation. 

like usual, you unpacked at lightning speed, occupying the room directly between jaemin and jisung and opposite chenle. as kids, you and mark used to argue over who got the room that you stay in, it being the only room in the cabin with a double bed, but after many years of relentless fighting, you always managed to beat him.

the five of you have been friends since before you could remember, constant pranks and silliness as kids soon became reliability and comfort as you grow into your late teens. but now that you all attend college together, you’re closer than ever.

admittedly, you’ve always been closer to jaemin than the rest, your childhood homes being next to each other, serving as a reason for you to play out in the street each evening after school. even as you entered high school and eventually college, you stayed close, despite jaemin’s tendencies to sleep around with girls and eventually ghost them soon after.

you would be mad at jaemin’s exploits, but you can’t exactly say that being mad at someone’s past actions is entirely justifiable, especially since his playboy behaviour has recently become less frequent.

the air in the cabin is surprisingly warm, a crisp layer of frost encasing the windows and blocking the breeze of snow as it falls upon the mountain that the cabin rests between. the sky, once blue, is now an iridescent hue of orange, reflecting off the snow on the ground and pulsing through the window and onto the wooden walls around you, making them glow. it is an utterly beautiful place, and you thank chenle’s parents for letting you stay here each winter unsupervised.

as you walk through the walkway and into the main room, you spot chenle upon the sofa, browsing the old vintage tv for any channels that don’t bore him profusely. mark and jaemin are playing a game of chess on the floor, resting themselves upon fluffy white cushions and muttering snarky comments to each other under their breaths. noticing your presence, chenle clears his throat, causing mark to look up at you, and eventually, jaemin to spin his body round in your direction.

“i’m bored.” you say, “that tv looks way too old to function and i don’t know how to play chess.” 

chenle speaks first, “well, i mean, maybe if you actually spend some time with us, you might have some fun.”

“sounds like a blast.” you say sarcastically, “i just think we should go out and do something in the snow instead of just being all cooped up in here for the third day in a row.”

“it’s too cold.” jaemin utters, “usually it’s not this bad.”

“and? just put on an extra layer.” you reply, looking to mark for help.

sighing, mark speaks up to agree with you, and with his help, you eventually manage to convince chenle and jaemin to go and wake up jisung, before layering up and grabbing your snowboards from the shed behind the cabin.

as you all walk across the mountain to the ski area, occasionally partaking in a small snowball fight on the way, you hurl yourselves onto the ski lifts.

you sit in between jaemin and mark, ignoring mark’s teasing as you struggle to get yourself seated.

once the lift begins to climb, you feel an immediate sense of calm. you’ve always enjoyed these trips, a moment of relaxation away from home, all with your favourite people. it is true that you wish you could bring your girl friends along, but they all hate the boys with a passion for multiple, various (and valid) reasons, and so, with their permission, you go without them.

lost in your own thoughts, you don’t notice as you suddenly begin to slip from the ski lift, the bar doing absolutely nothing to keep you in place.

“yn?”, you hear jaemin’s voice beside you, a weird sense of distress lining his voice as he quickly grabs a hold of your arm, attempting to lift you back onto the seat.

but it’s no use, the snowboard beneath you weighs you down and you slip from his grasp.

“mark, she’s slipping.” jaemin urges the other boy beside you.

“shit.”

they both try to bring you up, but as you get higher and higher to the top of the slope, the ground begins to find your feet, pulling you down with it.

you stumble before landing upside down into the snow, luckily not sliding anywhere, but unfortunately feeling a sudden frosty chill as piles and piles of snow seep into your clothing and down your back.

noticing your discomfort, jaemin bends down, lifting your face to his and, with a gentle smile, he brushes your snow-covered hair from your face.

“it’s… everywhere.” you shiver.

“everywhere?” jaemin asks.

you roll your eyes. “not the time for jokes.”

it takes you a while to notice mark standing behind jaemin, but when you do, you tell them both to continue on without you and that you’ll find your own way back to the cabin to change your clothes.

nodding after making sure that you’re okay, mark leaves to snowboard down the slope, leaving you and jaemin as you sit, still shaking, covered in ice and snow.

“i’m gonna-“ you say, getting up.

jaemin interrupts. “let me help you.”

“i don’t need help.” you reply.

there is a moment of silence before jaemin speaks again, as if he is choosing his words carefully.

“i know a better way to warm you up.”

your face lines in an expression of shock.

“we promised we wouldn’t do it here.” you say, “what if one of the others see something?”

“they won’t.” he smiles at you before pointing in the direction of the others, all enjoying themselves drifting down the snow, swerving in all kinds of directions.

it doesn’t take much for you to give in. so when you get back to the cabin, eventually changing into some fresh clothes that will eventually be pointless, jaemin turns out to be right.

he does know a way to warm you up.

his request didn’t surprise you, and you’re unsure if the others finding out that you and jaemin have been secretly hooking up for the past year is an all too bad thing. but at the thought of them having a little bit too much fun potentially teasing you both, you decided to keep it on the down-low.

it was never supposed to happen; you and jaemin are best friends. but after jaemin’s vow to stop playing with girls’ hearts and your fresh break up with your ex, you both decided that the logical thing to do is to use each other when you need it. it was simple.

over the past year, you have established 3 main rules for your ‘friends with benefits’ situation. number 1: you and jaemin can both sleep with other people if you so wish, number 2: no feelings are involved, if one person begins to feel anything for the other, then you must break it off. (this one isn’t and never will be a problem for you two, but you need to add it there anyway; you’ve heard the stories about jaemin the ‘serial heartbreaker’, and you definitely don’t want to be a victim of that) and number 3: no sleeping together during the winter ski trip. right now, you are breaking a rule, and neither you, nor jaemin, seem to care. it does scare you a little, however, considering how easily jaemin was willing to break it, and it has you wondering how strong the other rules even are.

after cleaning yourself up, you make your way to the kitchen to make yourself and jaemin a hot chocolate, sprinkling far too much powdered chocolate on the whipped cream and having to clear up all your mess soon after. jaemin follows you into the kitchen, pulling his shirt back over his head.

“can i ask you something?” jaemin says, reaching his arm past you to scoop his finger into the whipped cream and swiping it onto your nose. you push him away, watching as he giggles at you frantically wiping the cream off your nose in annoyance.

“sure.” you reply, and he leans on the counter beside you.

“when was the last time you slept with someone else?”

if you say the question doesn’t surprise you, you’d be lying. jaemin knows you can sleep with other people, it’s part of your rules. so why do you feel as though you’re in trouble?

“last saturday. that party on joomi’s street. eric sohn.”

jaemin’s face is unreadable. you continue, “if you’re worried you have competition, i wouldn’t worry. it was just one night.” you laugh.

“oh, i’m not worried.” he replies, “especially after the way you were saying my name back in there.”

his head tilts to the side to point in the direction of your room and you look over on instinct, memories of the past 30 minutes flashing in your mind and causing you to forget what you were even about to say.

but when you look over to the doorway, something else catches your attention.

or someone else.

standing at the front door, snowboard in hand and ski mask pulled down to his chin, stands a mortified, and astonished mark lee.

you freeze up, and no longer from the cold chill of snow.

he has heard everything.

you’re completely fucked.

❆ ❆ ❆

pacing around the kitchen and watching as mark looks between you both, you begin to attempt to redeem yourself.

“look, mark, that wasn’t what it sounded like, me and jaemin would never.”

mark looks at you, skeptical, before turning his attention to jaemin, who stands in the back corner of the kitchen, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed as if none of this is bothering him.

mark looks back at you. “yoooo, i mean, i guess i always knew there was something off about you guys.”

you rush towards him, clutching his shoulders. “i promise you, mark, it’s not like that-”

“we’re fucking.” jaemin finally speaks, and yours and mark’s heads both whip towards him in shock. jaemin shrugs, as if it isn’t a big deal.

“jaemin.” you say sternly, “what are you doin-”

“what? he caught us, there’s no point in denying it.”

“this is unbelievable.” mark chuckles, “i gotta go tell the others.”

“no you don’t.” you say, grabbing a hold of his arm.

he rolls his eyes. “alright, but at least give me details, man. how long? when did it start? why?”

you look to jaemin, not wanting to answer for yourself.

“about a year,” he says, “and why not?”

“why not?!” mark exclaims in disbelief, “i don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re best friends? what if you end up catching-”

“not gonna happen.” says jaemin, “we dont see eachother like that, never will.”

mark only continues to laugh, “this is nuts. you guys haven’t been doing it all weekend, have you? i don’t think i wanna hear it if you guys end up getting busy while we’re all meant to be asleep.”

“nope,” you reply. “this is the first and only time we’ve done it here. we sort of made it a rule so that this wouldn’t happen.”

before you can finish your conversation, chenle walks through the door. “so what wouldn’t happen?” he says, scanning his eyes between yours and jaemin’s lack of outdoor wear compared to mark’s.

“nothing.” you reply.

“nothing?” he asks, studying mark and jaemin’s expressions.

there is a second where no one speaks, but that seems to be enough for chenle, because the next thing he says is: “you guys fucked, didn’t you?”

mark can’t keep in his smile as he tries not to laugh and give it away, but jaemin’s stern expression speaks volumes.

chenle shrugs before taking off his coat and making his way to the fridge, “ehh, was sort of obvious anyways.”

“what?” you exclaim, “how?”

his eyebrow raises as he takes a bite of the donut he had taken out its packet, “jaemin swearing off girls the same time as you breaking up with your ex, you constantly ditching our movie nights to ‘hang out with your cat,’ and jaemin suddenly changing from being an insufferable prick to actually being half nice.” jaemin lets out a laugh at the last comment. “i have more if you want me to continu-“

 “thats okay, no thank you,” you speak up, “first of all, jaemin is still an insufferable prick.”

“thanks.” jaemin butts in.

“no problem.” you turn your head to him quickly before you continue, causing the others to laugh. “and secondly, i do actually go to hang out with my cat. i love her.” you say, offended.

“whatever.” chenle replies, a judging expression on his face.

they both took the news a lot better than you thought, so you decide to let them tell jisung, who is undoubtedly the most surprised at the revelation. but jaemin’s silence throughout the whole conversation annoys you. you don’t understand why he was being so quiet about it. but when you hear mark and jaemin whispering amongst themselves while you were meant to be in the shower, your confusion peaked.

“this isn’t like you, man.” it sounded like mark’s voice.

“i know.” jaemin replied.

that’s all you heard.

for the rest of the night, you all wrap yourselves in blankets on the sofa to watch some movie that jisung wanted to watch, the fireplace emitting a radial heat and deep hue of ember, softening you into a state of tiredness, drifting off as your head rests on the hard sofa next to you.

it’s only after you wake up that you realize it is certainly not the sofa that you were lying against, but instead, jaemin’s shoulder.

you hear the melodic birdsong as it fills the air outside, the white of snow lighting up the room. or is it chenle’s hideous singing in the shower that you hear? it’s hard to tell.

breaking yourself from jaemins sleeping grasp, you get up to look out the window. you’re meant to go home today, this is supposed to be your final morning of the trip.

but as you peek your vision out the window, around 3 feet of snow covers the floor all around the cabin, the four wheels of marks camper van not even visible.

“uhm, guys..” you call out, grabbing the attention of a freshly showered chenle, a mid breakfast-making mark, a book occupied jisung and a half asleep jaemin. they all stop their various activities at the urgency in your voice, coming over to you and looking out the window for themselves.

it takes each of them about 5 minutes to process what this means; your trip is going to be extended. you are trapped.

and you may be trapped but yours and jaemins secret is very much free.

it finally hits 3pm and you realise that you have all spent the entire day enveloped in boredom, watching as the snow falls and continues to form on the ground. there is no way all this snow will clear in just a few days.

you are lucky that chenle had brought nearly double the amount of food that you needed originally, meaning all you had to do now was to sit and wait it out. 

lounging on the sofa, you listen to the smooth rhythm of chenles jazz vinyl playing on loop across the room. you’re bored, and you can’t even go outside. you can tell the others are bored too, that same expression of ‘i just want to go home now.’ plastered on all of their faces. 

but their expressions quickly flip when a knock rattles from the front door.

you all look at each other in question before collectively jumping up in sync, running at inhuman speeds to the door. you were about to be saved, removed from the shackles of dullness and provided passage back home. 

being the first to get to the door, you grab a hold of the handle, struggling in attempts to only slightly crack it open to keep the snow outside.

but when you open the door and poke your head through the crack, you’re met with a very familiar face.

hayun. also known as, jaemins long-time ‘secret’ infatuation: his crush. 

your mind shatters in disbelief as you pull the door fully open to let the other guys see who it is, no longer caring about the snow as it comes piling in.

all because the look on jaemins face is priceless.

the others all look to him to see what he’s going to say, and unsurprisingly, all he has to say is ‘hi.’ you wouldn’t expect more from him, he’s never spoken a word that exceeds a greeting to her before.

following jaemins poor attempt at an introduction, you take over.

“what are you doing here? are you okay?” you ask, genuine concern for the girl lining your voice. 

“well, i was here on a ski trip with my friends but, they all abandoned me.”

“what?” you ask. 

“and i remembered seeing a few of your guys’ instagram posts saying you were here so… i thought i’d knock.”

“wow.” mark says, “your friends suck.”

“i know. so, any chance i can stay here? i would go home but the weather isn’t exactly drivable.”

you turn to the rest of your group, concluding the pity in their faces before turning back to hayun. “of course! we don’t have a spare room and the sofa gets cold at night but i have a double bed if you don’t mind sharing.”

“thank you so much!” she grins before stepping inside and pulling you in for a hug. you cringe as you come into contact with the cold casing of her coat, the ice cool against your skin as you try not to push her off of you. 

in all honesty, you feel bad for her and you know that jaemin is about to get relentlessly bullied by the rest of the group. this was about to make your extended trip a whole lot more interesting.

it hasn’t been a long time since he developed a crush on hayun, spotting her across the other side of his lecture hall. he always gives you some excuse as to why he’s somehow never gotten a chance to speak to her, so you presume that he’s happy that he finally has. either that or completely terrified. either way, you’re happy for him.

yes, you are. you’re happy for him.

❆ ❆ ❆

a few hours pass as you show hayun around the cabin, making space for her things in your room. letting her unpack, you make your way to the front room, finding jaemin and mark on the sofa, seemingly midway through a conversation. 

“oh, don’t let me stop you.” you say, urging them to continue their talk after they cease talking at your arrival.

mark turns back to jaemin. “i think you should go for it, dude, what harm could come out of it, huh?” he says.

you’re curious, “you’re gonna ask her out?” you say to jaemin.

he smirks, “maybe, maybe not.”

somehow, something in your heart doesn’t like the idea of jaemin asking out hayun. you’re not sure if it’s the idea of you and him ending this whole ‘friends with benefits’ situation, or the fact that you’re probably going to have to step back from being his best friend, because, let’s face it, there’s no way she would ever let you stay as close as you now are if they got together.

you slap the idea out of your head; he hasn’t even asked her out yet. 

mark notices the internal battle you have with yourself. “something wrong with that, yn?”

if jaemin wasn’t here right now, blocking you from mark by sitting in between you, you one hundred percent would have punched him at that.

jaemin looks over to you, a questioning expression on his face. 

“uh.. no…” you reply, apprehensive.

“oh come on, i saw the face you just made. you’re jealous that he’s gonna be fucking someone else, aren’t you?” mark continues.

you don’t know what to say, caught off guard by the truth in marks words and the cold presence of jaemins gaze on you. 

“im not jel- “ you begin, but jaemin interrupts you. 

“yn.” he says. it’s just your name but it holds so much meaning. “am i not allowed to have a girlfriend?”

“‘course you can.” you reply, shrugging.

mark raises his eyebrow at you and you seriously consider getting up and kicking him. 

jaemin continues, “good. it's decided then. i'm gonna ask her out.” 

mark pats him on the back, laughing, “good luck, dude.”

you smile in acknowledgement as jaemin thanks mark before chenle comes in, completely changing the subject when he starts complaining about hayun’s infiltration of his ‘well organised fridge.’ 

you zone out their conversation to reassure yourself that you truly don't care that jaemin was going to try to get close to hayun, but you can't help but feel like you're about to be replaced. you always knew it was going to happen, that one day jaemin would want to settle down with a girl. but you're just so used to his playboy personality that you just never expected it to be so soon. 

amongst the endless drill of chatter, you feel a sudden glance in your direction, and as you look up, jaemins eyes suddenly divert away from you, as if he got caught looking. you want to ask him what he wants, but the silence in his demeanour tells you that you shouldn't. it's bittersweet; the end of his situation with you, marks the start of one with hayun. its a trade in which you don't want to be part of, but you fear you have no choice – only time can decide.

the rest of the day went by quickly. maybe it was because of your new addition to the vacation or simply because chenle found a cupboard full of dusty boardgames that you decided to occupy yourselves with. naturally, it was you and mark that beat everyone else at your very long, grueling game of monopoly, but that quickly flipped to jisung when you took your turns at scrabble. 

the entire time, you and mark teased jaemin relentlessly, catching glimpses as he (unwilling) took his seat next to hayun, pushed there by chenle and jisung and ending up on her team. you could tell that he was getting annoyed at you both giggling at him, but you didn't care; it only made the entire thing so much more fun. 

by the end of the night, it was time to sleep, so you and hayun took your rightful sides of the bed. it isn't the best sleeping situation, but you’d much rather sleep beside her than have to experience mark’s sweaty feet ever again. (that experience was not one that you want to remember.)

before you can switch the light off, though, you hear hayun sit up. 

“wait, yn, before we sleep…” she says, and you look at her expectantly, “can i ask you something?”

“sure.” you reply. 

she looks down, fiddling with her fingers. “Its jaemin. is he.. single?”

as if you hadn't heard her, you take a pause, processing her question. 

“yeah.” you let a laugh slip, “why? you like him?”

at your question, she giggles and her voice makes you cringe a little. 

“yes. a lot actually, it's sort of the reason why im here..”

you furrow your brow. “what do you mean?”

she takes a deep breath. “my friends never kicked me out.. i just saw that you guys were also here and, well, i thought it'd be a chance for me to get to know him.”

it's as if your ears are deceiving you, the late night tiredness of the conversation urging you to hallucinate. but it's all real, every last word of it. 

“wait, so, you lied?.. to get us to let you stay?”

she nods, and you don't know if you should pity her or hate her guts. 

because you know what it's like to be in love; you know what it's like to like someone so much to the point where you allow yourself to do stupid things. you understand. 

but that doesnt mean that you like her for it. 

“i know you probably think i'm a horrible person.” she says.

“no.. no, not at all.” you reply, and she smiles at your words. 

“thanks yn.”

you laugh back, “so, jaemin huh?”

she looks back down at her fingers, “yeah.. embarrassing right?”

you smile, not just to her, but to yourself. 

“totally.”

❆ ❆ ❆

all night, you debate with yourself over what hayun had told you. on one hand, you can't agree with what she did: lying like that. but her crush on him means that jaemin would be happy, and as his best friend, you can't take that away from him. therefore, amongst your deep pool of thought, her confession swimming in the depths of your mind, you decide that the best thing for you to do, is to hold off telling him that she lied; not only would it ruin their chances of getting together, but therefore, jaemin would only be upset that he never got the chance.

but just because you can't tell jaemin, doesn't mean you can't tell mark. 

“i really don't know what to think about her.” you say, standing in the kitchen over three pans of eggs. mark had asked you to have the task of cooking them, resorting to focus on the rest of the group's breakfast. you know it's because he can't cook eggs to save his life, but he'll never admit that.

“honestly,” he replies, “who cares if she likes jaemin? she’s a sneaky little liar.” 

you laugh, “i don't know, mark. maybe she's just really in love with him.”

“i’m not so sure about that. how could anyone ever be in love with someone who wears a hoodie saying ‘orgasm donor’ in public.”

you roll your eyes and mark continues, “well, i guess we all know who he's donating to now..”

you slap him around the arm, causing him to cackle at your rash response. 

“anyways,’ he continues, “i wont tell jaemin about it if you don't want me to.” 

you nod, “thanks, mark. oh, and you're burning the bacon by the way.”

“oh shit.”

❆ ❆ ❆

deciding that the weather still wasnt good enough to attempt to make the journey home, you all decided to stay another day. although the day was full of indiscriminate party games and full fledged boredom, you somehow managed to make it through to nightfall. 

you’re nearly drifting off to sleep when you hear a tap at the door of your’s and hayun’s room. turning over to see hayun fast asleep, you get up to see who’s there, wondering what idiot buffoon decided to wake you up at 4 o’clock in the morning. 

by means of absolutely no surprise, it’s a disheveled jaemin, hair sticking up in about seven different directions and a crumpled tshirt that rises ever so slightly above his pyjama pants waistline, exposing skin that you do not have the energy to be fawning over. although, that’s exactly what you’re doing.

assuming that he’s here to finally break the news to hayun in some twisted, sensual late night confession, you turn your back to jaemin to call her name. in noticing what you’re about to do, jaemin reaches an arm around your waist, pulling you close enough to him that the palm of his other hand can cover your mouth. 

“will you shut up?” you don't need to see his face to know he's rolling his eyes, “this isn't exactly something i want her to see.”

oh.

he lets go of you, spinning you round to face him by your shoulders. he’s done this before: knocking on your door in the dead of night when he needs you. but you never expected him to do it here. not after your conversation with mark a few days ago, and certainly not whilst his crush was staying in your room. it all seems so bizarre. 

but you weren't going to say no. 

❆ ❆ ❆

the next morning, you realise that you had completely and utterly fucked up. 

the warmth of jaemin next to you remains, his arm slung lazily over the front of your stomach. you expect to open your eyes to jaemins ceiling back at home, but to much avail, you are very much still on vacation.

and you had four pairs of eyes staring down on you both to prove that. 

you jump out of jaemin’s hold immediately, causing him to slowly stir before mumbling something incoherent into the sheets. when he finally realises the situation you’re in, he takes the pillow beside his head, pushing it into his face. 

“you promised you wouldn't do it here, man.” mark starts. but your focus isn't on him, it's on hayun. 

and she's livid.

you turn the attention of your words to her. “im sorry. i should have told you.”

jaemin finally gets up, picking up his discarded shirt off the ground and pulling it over his head before sitting back on the end of the bed. 

hayun eyes him for any form of an apologetic sense, but he gives off nothing, and you fear this only makes her angrier.

your fear is proven correct when she suddenly snaps at you, “you knew i liked him and you still went and did this behind my back?”

at her words, the mood in the room suddenly shifts. what was an atmosphere of laughter and mischief at them catching you and jaemin together, is now suddenly a room of tension, a room that you no longer want to be in. 

but it's jaemins reaction that formulates the world's most unfortunate predicament. 

his head turns to you, a look of disappointment and what seems to be hurt, plastered on his face. “she likes me? and you hid it from me?”

you don't know what else to say, so you just tell him the truth. “yes, but it's not that simpl-”

“i don't care, yn.” he gets up, pushing past chenle to the bathroom before shutting the door behind him. 

fuck. you’ve messed up.

but one thing is nagging at you: jaemin seems to care far more about the fact that you hid the truth from him than what the truth actually entailed. you tell yourself he’s probably just embarrassed. either that or just completely and utterly in denial about it. either way, he’s acting strange; he should be happy, not angry. 

the entire day, jaemin didn’t utter a single word to you. as for hayun, she had been hidden away in your room, not speaking to a single person and avoiding any opportunity to accidentally bump into you. you did feel bad, you should have told her about it the second that she confessed her feelings for jaemin to you. but you had assumed from jaemin’s previous conversation with you, that you were calling it off, jaemin seeming pretty aware about the fact that she was now here. how were you supposed to predict him rocking up to your room at 4am?

anyhow, you spent the day with mark, discussing the ending of titanic and eating way too much chocolate to be healthy. when night came once more, you decided that it probably wasn't the best idea to go back to your room, scared about facing the wrath of the girl who resided in it. instead, after washing up in the bathroom, you make your way to the sofa in the front room. 

your actions are halted when you hear voices coming from the other side of jaemin’s door. you know you shouldn't eavesdrop on a private conversation, but you can’t help yourself. 

you register the second voice as mark as you get close enough to hear them clearer, just enough until you can hear what they're saying.

your heart hurts in your chest when you do. 

“i'm still going to ask her out, even with things the way they are.” you hear jaemin whisper. 

it's like a sudden shot to the chest. this is exactly what you feared from the very beginning, this is exactly what you trusted jaemin enough not to do. 

he’s choosing her over his best friend; he’s choosing her over you. 

trying to remain as quiet as possible, you continue your journey to the sofa, pain causing you to wince with every footstep – he's leaving you behind.

as you lie on the sofa, the chill air of the cabin surrounding you despite the presence of the fireplace, forcing you to wrap the blanket around you tighter, you struggle to bring yourself to sleep. but when you hear footsteps from the kitchen, you peek your head over the back of the sofa to see who’s there. 

at your movement, the culprit looks up from their snack-making and their eyes meet yours.

“jaemin?” you whisper, “why are you awake?”

“hungry.” he turns back, working on spreading the peanut butter onto his bagel. “what are you doing sleeping out here? it's way too cold.”

you stand up, making your way to the kitchen to stand behind him, blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you shiver from the frost. “i don’t think hayun likes me right now.” you say.

jaemin turns to face you, biting into his bagel. “i wonder why.” he says sarcastically, mouth half-full. you hate to admit it, but he looks incredibly alluring, he always does in the middle of the night. 

you hate the fact that he’s acting this way with you, dismissive and persistent, but he has every right, you hid so much from him, and you hurt him in the process. 

you’re at war with yourself, but in all honesty you know that you were in the wrong; for your friendship to work, you need to tell him everything. everything.

“actually,” you start, taking a deep breath, “there’s something you don't know.”

jaemin’s interest in the conversation suddenly spikes, looking for you to continue. 

“hayun… she.. wasn’t actually abandoned by her friends.”

“what?”

“the night she told me she liked you, she also told me that she ditched her friends because she saw that we were here. she lied about them kicking her out so that we would feel bad and let her stay, so that then she could finally get her chance to talk to you.” you pause, attempting to read jaemin’s face but failing, getting nothing from his expression. “i should have told you, but i didn't want you to get hurt. instead… i did exactly that. i'm sorry, jaemin, really.”

when you finish speaking, you notice as jaemin’s lips slightly curl into a smile before dropping back to his cold demeanor, and it makes you question whether you really saw it or if it was just your mind playing tricks on you. 

“yn..” he trails off, whatever he wants to say interrupted by your sudden panic in not wanting to embarrassing yourself.

you ramble, scared that he won't accept your apology. “but like you said to mark earlier, if you still want to ask her out, that's fin-”

“wait, what?” jaemin says, moving from his position leaning against the counter to stand upright. 

“i, um, heard you and mark talking earlier about how you were still going to ask her out despite everything..” you say. 

jaemin laughs to himself and you grow confused. “oh, yn.” he says. 

“what? what’s so funny?”

“you never did get my hints, did you.”

your heart freezes in your throat, the cold weather no longer chilling you but instead the bitter taste of jaemin’s words as they formulate in your brain. 

he continues, noticing your confusion. “it was never her that i had a crush on. it was never her that i was planning to ask out.”

you’re struggling to breath, each intake of oxygen getting caught in your chest. 

“yeah, i thought she was kinda pretty when i first saw her across my lecture a few months ago, but that was long before i fell for who i really wanted.” he smiles, inching closer to you. “and after everyone found out that i was sleeping with you, i decided that there was no longer an excuse for me to hide my feelings.” he takes a hold of your hand, looking down at it as he plays with your fingers. “i was starting to get pretty pissed that you wouldn’t pick up any of my hints, you know? you can’t even imagined how embarrassed i was to find out that it was because you were trying to play cupid for me and someone else.”

your mind is vacant, filled with the epiphany of his words as they resonate in your head, playing a tune of melancholic rhythm as it twists into an allegro.

“but… the rule.” you say. 

jaemin chuckles, “i think we stopped caring about those rules a while ago, yn. i know i did. ”

you’re no longer cold, jaemins warmth radiating against you like the blissful aura of a flame, attracting you and drawing you closer. 

it was then that you realised that you haven't said anything to equate his long speech, but words can do nothing to describe the way that you’re feeling. its as if someone had approached you with a mirror, brutally displaying each of your own hidden thoughts and projecting them back at you. because every single word that jaemin muttered, you found deep within yourself. it all clicks, perfectly and irrevocably, into place. your jealousy, your embarrassment, your stupidity. 

your love. 

instead of attempting to sum up all of your feelings into words, you do the one thing that will live up to the emotions that reside within you. taking not a single moment to prepare yourself, you lean closer to him, his eyes finding your lips. you nod, its small but the gesture means so much. it's an agreement, a sealing of mutual understanding. it's slow and it's incredibly gentle as his lips greet yours, soft in a way unlike ever before. kisses between you and jaemin were always the result of lust, of stupidity. but now, it's the result of something far greater. 

it’s love. 

❆ ❆ ❆

when the sun rises above the horizon, you leap from jaemin’s bed, him giggling at your eagerness. 

“oh my god, it's finally clear!!” you yell, waking up each of the boys with your burst of excitement. you could finally go home. 

the morning consisted of three major revelations. one: you all contacting hayun’s friends, watching as they dragged her into their car to drive her home. two: discovering that chenle had only showered once throughout the entire holiday (you all started placing bids as to who gets to not sit next to him on the journey back.) and three: witnessing the boys’ reactions to your’s and jaemins new secret. 

“i knew you’d do it, dude.” mark said, attempting to fist bump jaemin in the most cringe-worthy interaction you’ve ever seen in your life. jisung and chenle however, were completely baffled, and it took about thirty minutes of explaining for them to understand that it was you that jaemin had a crush on, and not hayun. you’re still convinced that jisung doesn't understand.

once you had all packed your things, you grabbed your suitcases, standing in the porch as chenle locked the front door for the final time. 

“im going to miss this place.” mark says, exaggerating an act of sadness as he clutches his chest. 

“im not,” chenle replies, “i’ve never been so bored in my entire fucking life.”

“it’s been fun.” you say, smiling.

jaemin’s voice comes from next to you. “eh, could have been better.” 

you turn to him in offence. 

he continues, “i'm just saying, i never got to actually snowboard.”

“are you suggesting what i think you’re suggesting…?” mark replies, looking around the group and meeting similar grins and looks of hopefulness. 

jaemin shrugs, “i dont know, am i?”

as if on cue, you all drop your suitcases in the snow, laughter and coils of happiness springing between you as you run to the shed behind the cabin for one last time. 

no other winter ski trip ever got near to living up to that one. 

not even close. 

[iris-qt]

physical affection

& how the slytherin boys show it

I. MATTHEO RIDDLE

Mattheo Riddle showed love the way he did everything: loud, unapologetic, and impossible to ignore.

“Pumpkin Pookie Pie!” His booming voice rang through the corridor as you buried your face in your hands. He’d been calling you that for weeks, his new favorite way to get under your skin.

Before you could respond, his arm slung around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “What’s wrong? Too shy to admit you love it?” he teased, his grin wicked.

“Too mortified to acknowledge your existence,” you shot back, trying to wriggle free.

He only held on tighter. “Oh no, you’re stuck with me now,” he said, steering you down the hall as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Later that day, you found him perched on the edge of your study table in the library, nudging your quill off balance with his finger.

“Mattheo,” you hissed, grabbing it before it rolled onto the floor. “Some of us are trying to pass.”

“Pass? You’ll ace it,” he said confidently, leaning closer until his face was inches from yours. “I mean, you’ve got me, don’t you?”

“You’re a distraction.”

“And yet,” he quipped, flicking your nose, “you’re smiling.”

You were. Begrudgingly.

Then there were the bear hugs. Merlin, the bear hugs. Mattheo had an uncanny talent for sensing when you were stressed, usually followed by him swooping in and pulling you into a hug that could rival a skull-crushing bludger.

One evening, as you stared blankly at your parchment, trying and failing to organize your thoughts, he came up behind you. Without warning, his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you clean off your chair.

“Mattheo!” you yelped, flailing.

“Shh,” he said, spinning you around. “This is a medical intervention. You were looking far too tense.”

By the time he set you back down, your frustration had melted into laughter, your cheeks warm as you leaned back into his arms for a moment longer than you’d care to admit.

But there were other moments, too. Quieter ones, where his teasing gave way to something softer.

The common room was nearly empty when he found you curled up on the couch, a book in your lap but your eyes distant. Wordlessly, he sank down beside you, close enough that your knees touched.

You expected a quip or a joke, but instead, his hand reached out, finding yours where it rested on the page. His fingers laced through yours, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles over your knuckles.

The playful grin he always wore was gone, replaced by something calmer. “You’re too brilliant to stress like this,” he murmured, his voice low.

For once, you didn’t argue. His hand in yours felt grounding, his words a quiet reassurance..

II. THEODORE NOTT

Theodore Nott didn’t need grand gestures to show he cared. He was subtle, deliberate, and always knew exactly what you needed without a single word.

Like now, as you struggled to balance a precarious stack of books in the library. “Need a hand?” he asked casually, appearing out of nowhere.

“I’ve got it,” you huffed, shifting the stack.

“You mean, you’re about to drop it,” he corrected, plucking the books from your arms with ease.

“Show off,” you muttered, but the corners of your mouth twitched.

He gave you a small, amused smile as he set the books down on your table. Then, without a word, he reached forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face, tucking it gently behind your ear.

“Better,” he murmured before sitting down across from you. It was so casual, so effortless, but your heart still skipped a beat.

Later, in the Great Hall, it was his hand on your lower back guiding you through the bustling crowd of students. It wasn’t pushy or overbearing, it was just enough to let you know he was there, steady and constant.

“Theo, I’m not made of glass” you teased as you sat down, and he leaned against the table beside you.

“No, but you’re terrible at dodging elbows,” he quipped, nodding toward the chaos of the lunch line.

He was right, of course. He always was.

And then there were the little things he did that were so infuriatingly him.

Like the time he stole your quill mid-essay. “Theo!” you snapped, glaring at him.

“You’ve been using it wrong,” he said nonchalantly, twirling it between his fingers like a wand duelist showing off.

“How can you use a quill wrong?”

“You can. You’ve been gripping it like you’re stabbing someone. Here.” He handed it back, his fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary. “Relax your grip, or you’ll snap the nib.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help noticing how much smoother your writing felt afterward.

And then, on a rainy afternoon when you were both sprawled in the common room, you’d been flipping through a book while Theo quietly worked on an Arithmancy chart. Without looking up, he reached out and nudged a mug of tea toward you.

“You’re looking a little pathetic,” he said, his tone completely deadpan.

“Thanks, Theo,” you said dryly, but you took the tea anyway, smiling softly as you sipped it.

It wasn’t until you glanced over later that you noticed his gaze lingering on you, a rare warmth in his usually calm expression.

“What?” you asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Nothing.”

But as his hand reached out to brush against yours once again, you realized that with Theo, even the smallest touch felt like the loudest declaration.

III. LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Lorenzo Berkshire loved quietly and warmly, his affection woven into the small, steady ways he touched you.

Like the way he always grabbed your hand without thinking, his fingers threading through yours as naturally as breathing. It didn’t matter where you were: in the middle of a crowded corridor, walking to Hogsmeade, or, as it happened today, dodging Peeves’ latest chaotic masterpiece of enchanted water balloons.

“Quick!” Lorenzo yanked you behind a suit of armor, his hand gripping yours firmly as water splashed past.

“You could’ve warned me sooner!” you hissed, clutching your soaked sleeve.

“I did warn you,” he said innocently, his grin betraying no remorse. He squeezed your hand before letting go to wring out his own robe. “Besides, you’re lucky I’m here. Imagine if Peeves got you while you were alone.”

“Yeah, I’d never survive without you,” you deadpanned, earning a soft chuckle.

Then there were his hugs: warm, steady, and impossible to resist.

One afternoon, you’d been pacing in the common room, ranting about something ridiculous Professor Snape had said in Potions. Lorenzo was sitting on the couch, watching you with a quiet amusement, until you threw your hands in the air in frustration.

“Am I wrong, though?” you demanded.

Instead of answering, he stood, stepped forward, and pulled you into a hug. It was so sudden, you froze.

“Lorenzo, what are you---”

“Shh,” he murmured, his arms snug around you. “You’re spiraling. Just… stop pacing and let me hold you for a second.”

For a moment, you considered pushing him away, purely out of principle. But his embrace was so warm, so comforting, that you found yourself leaning into it instead.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered against his shoulder.

“And you’re adorable when you’re annoyed,” he said, his voice muffled but teasing.

Then there were the casual touches that seemed second nature to him, like the way he always rested a hand on your shoulder when he leaned down to read over your notes.

“Did you mean to write ‘infusion’ here?” he asked once, pointing to your parchment.

“Yes, Enzo,” you said, your tone mockingly patient. “That’s exactly what I meant to write.”

“Good. Just checking.” He gave your shoulder a quick squeeze before walking off, as if correcting your work was the most normal thing in the world.

But perhaps the most Lorenzo thing he did was during Quidditch practice. You’d shown up to watch, cheering loudly enough to embarrass him in front of the whole team.

After practice, he jogged over, damp and out of breath, and pulled you into a sweaty, enthusiastic hug.

“Lorenzo!” you shrieked, trying to push him off.

“Just sharing the victory,” he said with a grin, tightening his grip.

“Victory? You missed three goals!”

“Details,” he said, leaning back just enough to grin at you. “Besides, I know you secretly love this.”

And as much as you complained, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Because with Lorenzo, every touch, whether it was a hand in yours, a shoulder squeeze, or a hug that left you blushing, felt like home.

IV. DRACO MALFOY

Draco Malfoy had a way of turning even the simplest gestures of affection into acts of grandeur.

“Y/N,” he drawled, stepping into the courtyard where you were waiting. “Your scarf is a disaster.”

You looked down, confused. “It’s just a scarf, Draco.”

“It’s an offense to fashion,” he corrected, already closing the distance between you. Before you could stop him, his gloved hands were carefully unwinding the scarf from your neck.

“Draco, it’s cold!”

“Shh.” He ignored your protest, methodically rewrapping it, each fold placed with the utmost precision. “If you insist on walking around like this, the least I can do is ensure you don’t embarrass me.”

Once he finished, he stepped back, inspecting his work like a proud artist. “There. Better.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though you had to admit the scarf did feel warmer.

Later, during a stroll to Hogsmeade, he offered his arm with a flourish.

“Draco, we’re not at a ball,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“And yet,” he said, his tone prim, “you look like you might trip over the cobblestones at any moment. I’m merely preventing a tragedy.”

You rolled your eyes but slipped your arm through his anyway. He gave a satisfied smirk, his fingers resting lightly over yours.

Then there were the smaller gestures, the ones you weren’t entirely sure were affectionate or just Draco being Draco.

Like the time he spotted a speck of dust on your robe during dinner.

“Hold still,” he said sharply, brushing it off with the utmost seriousness.

“Draco, it’s barely visible---”

“Barely visible isn’t invisible,” he cut in, flicking the imaginary lint away with a look of triumph. “You’re welcome.”

Sometimes, his gestures were less about precision and more about necessity. During a Quidditch match, the wind had ripped your hair tie loose, leaving your hair whipping into your face. Draco, seated beside you, sighed audibly before pulling out a spare ribbon from his pocket.

“You carry ribbons?” you asked, bewildered.

“Of course not,” he said, already tying it into place with practiced ease. “Mother always says to be prepared for emergencies. Apparently, this qualifies.”

“Does it?”

“Obviously,” he said, brushing a stray strand out of your face. “Imagine how ridiculous you looked before I fixed it.”

You stared at him, torn between laughing and being annoyed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re lucky I am,” he replied smugly, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary.

Whether it was adjusting your scarf or offering his arm, Draco's gestures always came with a quiet, meaningful undertone: he cared more than he’d ever admit.

V. BLAISE ZABINI

Blaise Zabini’s affection was effortless, delivered with the same smooth confidence he carried everywhere he went.

Take, for example, the way his hand always found your thigh when you sat next to him. It didn’t matter if it was in the library, the common room, or even during a particularly dull History of Magic lecture. His hand would settle there, light and casual, like it belonged.

“Are you even paying attention?” you whispered once, glancing at him while Professor Binns droned on about goblin rebellions.

“Not really,” he said, smirking as his fingers tapped absentmindedly against your leg. “But you are, and that’s far more interesting.”

His casual touches extended to the little things, too. Like the time you’d been sitting together at breakfast, distractedly spreading jam on your toast while skimming your notes. Blaise had leaned over, taken the knife from your hand, and spread the jam evenly in one smooth motion.

“You were going to ruin it,” he said simply, setting the toast back on your plate.

“It’s toast, Blaise,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Precisely. There’s no excuse for sloppy toast,” he replied, his lips quirking into a half smile as he rested his elbow on the table and leaned closer.

He was equally casual about his protectiveness. When you walked into the common room one night, balancing a stack of books, Blaise, who was lounging on the couch, arched a brow.

“Drop one of those, and I’ll laugh,” he said lazily, though he was already standing.

“You’re so helpful,” you said sarcastically.

But before you could move, he reached out, took the books from your arms, and placed them on the nearest table. His hand brushed your back as he passed, light and deliberate. “There. Now you don’t have to make a spectacle of yourself.”

Even in the rare moments when you were annoyed with him, his touch had a way of disarming you.

Once, after an argument about which Quidditch team was better, you’d crossed your arms and turned away from him. Blaise, unbothered, leaned back against the couch and stretched his arm along the backrest until his fingers lazily grazed your shoulder.

“You’re mad,” he observed, his voice amused.

“No, I’m---” You stopped mid-sentence as he lightly trailed his fingers down your arm. It wasn’t much, just enough to make you shiver and forget whatever comeback you’d been forming.

“Hmm?” he prompted, his smirk growing.

“Nothing,” you muttered, glancing away, which only made him chuckle softly.

VI. REGULUS BLACK

Regulus Black wasn’t one for grand gestures. His affection was quiet, almost imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t paying attention. But you always noticed.

It was in the way his fingers would brush against yours as you walked side by side through the castle corridors, his hand lingering just long enough to send a silent, unspoken message.

“Regulus,” you teased once, glancing down at where his hand hovered near yours. “You can hold my hand, you know. I won’t bite.”

He huffed softly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Sure you weren’t,” you replied, your voice laced with amusement. But before you could say anything else, his fingers laced with yours, quick, almost shy, but steady.

In the common room, when you were bent over a pile of parchments, furiously scribbling down notes, he would sometimes come up behind you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” he said one evening, his voice low and steady.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, not looking up.

He didn’t argue. Instead, his thumb brushed against the fabric of your robes, a small, grounding gesture. “Just don’t forget to breathe,” he said softly before slipping away, leaving behind the faint warmth of his touch.

And then there were the moments that caught you off guard, like when you’d been lost in thought by the Black Lake, the chilly wind tugging at your cloak. Regulus appeared beside you silently, slipping his scarf from around his neck and draping it over your shoulders without a word.

“You’ll freeze,” you protested, clutching the soft wool.

“I’ll survive,” he replied, his tone so matter-of-fact it made you smile. He didn’t move to take the scarf back, though he did stand close enough that his arm brushed yours.

And then one evening in the library, you were both pouring over ancient texts for a Potions essay, the quiet hum of the room interrupted only by the scratch of quills. Without looking up, he reached over and adjusted the candle near your book, tilting it so the light fell more evenly across the pages.

“Thanks,” you said softly, glancing at him.

He shrugged, not meeting your gaze, but the faintest hint of a smile played on his lips.

VII. TOM RIDDLE

Tom Riddle’s affection was as precise and calculated as everything else he did.

You were pacing the length of the common room, muttering under your breath as you reviewed your notes for the tenth time that evening. Tom, seated in his usual armchair, watched you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “you’re going to wear a hole in the carpet.”

“I can’t help it,” you replied, not stopping. “I need to make sure I’ve got everything memorized.”

Before you could pass him again, he stood, closing the distance between you in two measured strides. Gently but decisively, he cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Stop,” he commanded, his tone low but unyielding. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones, a gesture that was oddly soothing despite the intensity of his stare. “You’re better than this frantic display. Calm your mind.”

For a moment, all you could do was blink up at him, the warmth of his hands grounding you in a way that words never could.

“Better?” he asked, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Better,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

He stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides, though he lingered close enough that the heat of his presence remained.

There were other moments like this, too, where his touch was both a command and a reassurance.

Like the time he found you struggling to reach a book in the library. Without a word, he appeared behind you, effortlessly plucking the book from the shelf and handing it to you. When you opened your mouth to thank him, he tilted your chin up with a single finger, his expression unreadable.

“You shouldn’t have to struggle,” he said simply, his voice barely above a whisper.

Or the time you were arguing with him over something trivial (probably his refusal to let anyone but himself tutor you).

“You’re insufferable,” you’d snapped, crossing your arms.

“And you’re too intelligent to waste time bickering with me,” he replied smoothly. Before you could fire back, he placed his hands on your shoulders, his grip firm but not unkind. “Now, sit down and let me help you. You’ll thank me later.”

Despite the commanding edge to his touch, there was something deeply reassuring about it. A promise, unspoken but felt in every deliberate move.

Because with Tom, every gesture carried the same message: You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you never forget it.

A/N: SURPRISEEE just temporarily back bc i missed writing and I missed you guys

Taglist (for those who asked to be tagged in everything) = @smut-anarchy, @marikajhaha, @nottinmyheart, @hzdhrtss, @babene-e

love u guys

[jovialsongdefendor]

"Sonamy is canon and sonic likes amy back! he is just shy!"

What. Uh. The claim that "Sonamy is canon and Sonic likes Amy back but is just shy" is a misconception because it lacks clear evidence in the games or official media that Sonic reciprocates Amy’s romantic feelings in a meaningful or consistent way.

Sonic’s interactions with Amy across the games show that he cares for her as a friend and ally, but there’s no solid indication that he sees her romantically. Sonic often dodges or avoids Amy when she expresses her romantic feelings. While this is played for comedic effect, it’s far from a sign of shyness. It suggests that Sonic may not share the same feelings or simply isn’t interested in pursuing romance. Sonic cares about Amy’s safety and well-being, but this aligns with his general heroic nature and how he treats his other friends (e.g., Tails, Knuckles, or even strangers). His protective attitude doesn’t necessarily imply romantic feelings. And that some fans doesnt understand.

The evidence that some fans showed is mostly mistranslations that sega of the wester side do it on purpose when in the japanese version, where sonic is originated created, the text is completly different. So yeah, the voice over where tails read the questions about sonic having feelings for amy in the sonic cd resume of amy being sonics love interest they are already spreading wrong information, so yeah. They are literrally spreading a lie the america sega when they dont have any power on it lol. (sonadow wiki next)

"If anyone uses this to claim that it is Sonic saying that he is calling Amy his girlfriend, that is misinformation/disinformation, they are lying and it shows that they don’t know how to read Japanese at all.

This sentence has nothing to do with Sonic calling anyone his girlfriend. And what is in the parentheses is not a part of the sentence, that is a personal interpretation of what the person thought of after mistranslating the sentence.

What the sentence says is this: “Sorry but, I find a girlfriend to be an inconvenience (burden or discomfort).” or “Unfortunately, a girlfriend is something that I don’t want to inconvenience myself with, you know.”

The sentence in Japanese: “あいにく, ガールフレンドには 不自由して いないもんでね”

If you take the sentence apart (which you can see on this website) you will see each word on it’s own to see the direct translation.

あいにく = Unfortunately or Sorry, but…

ガールフレンド = Girlfriend

不自由して = Doing Discomfort or Inconvenience

いない = (something along the lines of) Do not (when paired with 不自由して)

もん = Something/Person/Thing

でね = You know

Another thing to point out is that the sentence in Japanese does not have the word or meaning “have” in it. “Have” in Japanese would involve the character or particle “が.”

One more thing to point out is that with the incorrect translation, if Sonic was saying that, then it does not reflect in the game it is in, nor future medias where he runs away from Amy constantly (like in Sonic Battle) or considers her only a friend."

Even Ian sayed that amys love is one-sided and sonic considered her as a friend, nothing more. Everyone, including employess, are just lying to this point!

And even in the video down below sonic sayed that is nothing complicated, and she is just a important friend that can be difficult to handle sometimes.

"Oh, but sonic sounds like a boy with a crush"

NO. That doesnt mean necesarrily that he have a crush People claiming "he sounds like he has a crush" are basing their argument on subjective interpretation of Sonic’s tone of voice rather than the actual words he says. Tone can be influenced by many factors: Sonic might be playful, casual, or dismissive because he doesn’t see the topic as serious.

His tone might even reflect mild awkwardness—not because of romantic feelings, but because Amy’s affection can sometimes be overbearing or embarrassing for him. When Sonic curtly responds to questions about Amy (like saying she's "an important friend" or "nothing complicated"), some fans interpret his brevity as embarrassment or an attempt to hide his true feelings. However, this interpretation comes from the fan’s desire to see a romantic connection, not from what Sonic is actually communicating.

Without concrete actions to back up this tone, interpreting it as proof of a crush is a leap. So no, friends, not everything has to be romantic.

And even in the japanese sonic channel amy is still saying that she is a "self-proclamed" girlfriend so... yeah.

And about that some fans sayed that in sonic unleashed sonic gets sad because amy doesnt recognize him and walks away, more like sonic gets sad because with that form his friends couldnt even recognize him anymore and thinks he looks like a monster. that doesnt show that he likes her romantically. He is trying to adapt to his new form, so is understandable that he felts sad with his new form if a friend doesnt recognize him. And about sonic flirting with lady percival thing: bro, sonic is acting normal like he do with knuckles, tails and even shadow. what are you into bro.

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter twenty-three: Beneath the Mask

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous | 23 | next

Series Masterlist

The evening was heavy with silence, the kind that fills a room like a storm waiting to break. You sat across from In-ho, your fingers absently tracing the rim of your glass, watching him as he worked through papers at his desk. There was a subtle tension in the air, one that neither of you had addressed but both could feel. It wasn’t the same distance as before—no, this time it was more like an unspoken wall between you. You could feel his eyes on you, every now and then, like he was trying to decipher something about you.

But even as he remained immersed in his work, there was an unsettling vulnerability to him, an unspoken weight hanging over his usually stoic expression. You knew he was lost in his thoughts. There were still cracks in his armor, though he tried so hard to keep them hidden. You couldn’t help but feel the urge to bridge the gap between you—to understand what he wasn’t saying, what he was keeping from you.

The hours had drifted by, the soft hum of the quiet night only broken by the sound of his pen tapping against paper. But you couldn’t ignore the knot in your stomach any longer. The connection between you, however fragile, needed to be addressed. You had no idea what this was—this pull you felt towards him, this subtle but undeniable thread of something more. But one thing was clear: you couldn’t keep pretending that things were fine when the tension between you both only deepened.

“In-ho,” you said, your voice breaking the stillness. It felt strange saying his name, but it also felt like the first step toward something more. You didn’t wait for him to acknowledge you before continuing. “I need to ask you something.”

His pen paused mid-tap, and he finally looked up, his gaze flicking to yours with a cool indifference, but there was a softness there now—something hidden beneath the hard mask. He didn’t speak, just gave you a subtle nod, waiting for you to continue.

“You’ve been pulling away,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “And I don’t understand why.” Your voice wavered, but you couldn’t stop yourself now. “What’s going on, In-ho? I feel like there’s more to you than what you’re letting on. You’re holding something back. And I… I need to know why.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze turning cold again, as though your question had triggered something within him. For a moment, he didn’t speak. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he folded his arms across his chest, his eyes now fixed on some distant point beyond you. The silence stretched between you both, thick and suffocating. You felt exposed in a way, unsure if you had crossed a line you weren’t meant to cross.

“You don’t want to know,” he finally said, his voice low, his tone flat. “Trust me.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, a chill running through you as the walls around him seemed to rise higher. But you weren’t going to back down. Not this time.

“I think I do want to know,” you said, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. “I’m not asking to pry, but if we’re going to keep pretending like nothing is going on, then I don’t know how much longer I can stay here. I can feel it, In-ho. The distance between us.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes—a flash of pain, fleeting but unmistakable. It was enough to make your heart race, even as he closed himself off again.

“Let it go,” he said, his voice sharp now, a command. “You’re better off not knowing. I told you before… this isn’t the life for you. The sooner you accept that, the easier it’ll be for you.”

But something inside you pushed back against that notion. You weren’t ready to let him shut you out—not when you could feel the depth of his emotions beneath that cold, calculated exterior. He was trying to protect you, but it wasn’t just that. You knew it. He was afraid. Afraid of losing someone else. Afraid of loving again.

“I’m not afraid of the truth, In-ho,” you said softly, standing up from your seat, closing the distance between you. Your gaze locked with his, and this time, you didn’t flinch. “You don’t have to protect me from it. I want to understand, even if it scares me.”

He looked at you then—really looked at you. His eyes searched your face as though trying to gauge whether you meant it, whether you were truly prepared for whatever he was about to say.

For a long moment, the tension hung heavy between you, the weight of his past pressing down on both of you. Then, In-ho stood up slowly, his movements careful, like a man preparing to reveal something dangerous.

“You think you want to know,” he began, his voice quieter now, as though he was telling himself more than you. “But the truth is… I lost everything once. My wife, my unborn child. I thought I had a future. A life. And then it was all ripped away in the span of a few months.” His voice cracked ever so slightly, but he quickly masked it, turning his back to you, walking toward the window. “It broke me. And now… now I don’t know how to love anyone anymore. Not like that. Not after everything.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the confession more vulnerable than you ever expected to hear from him. The realization that In-ho, the frontman, the powerful man who seemed to control everything, had been shattered by a loss so profound made your heart ache.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You wanted to reach out to him, but something told you he wasn’t ready to be held.

He shook his head, the darkness of the night outside reflected in the coldness of his eyes. “It’s not your problem,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet bitterness. “I can’t let anyone in again. You wouldn’t understand. You’re not part of this world. And I can’t—”

“You’re wrong,” you interrupted him softly, your voice trembling but determined. “I’m already here. I’m already a part of it. And I’m not leaving, In-ho. Not because of this.”

For a second, you thought he might say something more, but instead, he exhaled sharply and turned away from you, his jaw clenched tight.

“You should go,” he said, his voice thick with finality. “I have things to handle tonight.”

You didn’t say anything else. You simply nodded, heart heavy, as you turned to leave. But as you reached the door, you glanced back at him. There was something different in the way he stood—something that hadn’t been there before.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready,” you said quietly, then walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind you.

In-ho didn’t follow. He didn’t say anything more. But you knew, deep down, that something had shifted. Whether it was a step forward or a step back, you weren’t sure. But you could feel it—the quiet promise that things between you had just begun to unravel, for better or worse.

———————

Chapter twenty-three!! Wooow let’s goo! More progress?? As always lemme know what you think! Thank you! :)

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[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Jan behind the cut; “YJ packs up and gets pupped”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“You are presenting, and you have chosen to do it in the base,” Red Tornado says. “Presumably you chose to do that because Project Cadmus lacked something you require for the process.” 

“I . . .” Kon hesitates again, biting the inside of his lip. “I just–I just didn’t wanna do it there, okay? That’s–s’all.” 

Red Tornado looks at him. Kon really wishes the guy had a scent that he could read. Or like–at least a fucking expression or something. Like just–literally anything, right now. 

“You appear to be nesting,” Red Tornado observes. “Are you an omega, then?” 

“. . . I guess,” Kon mumbles, swallowing roughly. And it feels–it feels weird, saying it to someone. Even after saying it to himself and the Super-Cycle already. 

Red Tornado can tell him what he thinks about him saying that to him, is the thing. And whatever he thinks, it’s not going to be what Kon thinks himself.

Like–obviously it’s not, yeah. 

“You are in possession of sufficient nesting material, then?” Red Tornado asks, and Kon tries not to bristle. It’s–it’s just a question, maybe. Probably. Not one he knows why Red Tornado’s asking, but–just a question. 

Unless it’s a trap, anyway. 

“I just–borrowed some stuff,” he says without saying anything about–about just what he’s really “borrowing”, and he maybe sounds a little bit too defensive about it, but . . . but that’s all he did, dammit. He didn’t do anything–bad or anything. “S’all. I’ll scent-scrub all the pheromones and shit off when I’m done, alright? I’m not messin’ anything up or anything, it’s fine.” 

They wouldn’t care, he tries to say, but he doesn’t know–he doesn’t actually know that. Doesn’t actually know if . . . if they’d care. If they’d–mind.

Would they be mad, if they found out he came to the base to present and then tracked down and took all their scents? Like–without asking, or . . . 

They’re not a pack. And the others all have packs. And in all their heads he’s just, like, the stupid bruiser teammate who’s only barely a friend that none of them trust to be in charge of the team even though he’s literally the only one who actually has been in charge of a team before and who they probably all think’s an alpha anyway and–and– 

“Yes,” Red Tornado says. “But is ‘some stuff’ sufficient for your nest?” 

“I . . .” Kon–falters, kinda, and maybe sinks in on himself a little again. Does–does it look that bad? He knows he didn’t get much stuff for it, but–but if it looks that bad . . . 

“Kathy prefers to layer her nests with multiple fabrics and cushioning,” Red Tornado says. “And Traya and her friends line theirs with plush toys when engaging in playing ‘house’ together. I am otherwise unfamiliar with the necessary components of their construction.” 

“. . . oh,” Kon realizes, and feels a little less–a little less embarrassed, at least. At least if Red Tornado doesn’t really know how it’s supposed to go either . . . well, he can’t think it looks that bad, if he doesn’t really know. Right? “Uh–I don’t . . . I dunno. I never . . . did it, before.” 

Red Tornado tilts his head. Kon represses a cringe, trying not to bristle. Well–he wasn’t presented before, so . . . so why would he have? 

“I was under the impression that most omega pups experience a compulsion to nest even before their presentation,” Red Tornado says. 

“Well, I didn’t,” Kon snaps at him, digging his fingers into Cassie’s folded-up shirt and–and not-really-on-purposely pinning it against his chest. 

Hugging it against his . . . against his . . . 

He’d just–he’d just . . . thought about it, a couple times. But he . . . he hadn’t felt any stupid compulsions or . . . 

Kon thinks about how many times he’d thought about nesting, and how many times he’d thrown all his blankets in the corner and made himself sleep on a half-stripped bed and nothing else, and how many times he’d thrown every blanket he could find on his bed and slept under them all at once, and how he’d always . . . always folded his jacket into a pillow, when he was . . . when he was . . . sleeping somewhere else, like on the road or on shoots or in the field or . . . 

He thinks about how many times he’d wanted to . . . wanted to watch one of those nesting videos, but–hadn’t. 

Then he thinks about crying, maybe. 

“I thought I was gonna be an alpha,” he croaks, trying to figure out if–if this makes him a bad omega after all, or–or something. If he didn’t . . . didn’t nest before, or . . . “I thought I . . . thought I . . .”

I thought I HAD to be an alpha, Kon doesn’t say, but it’s all he can think.

[itsnesss]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

summary | after spilling coffee on the arrogant yet popular minho, you are forced to accompany him to a gala as compensation. although you initially feel out of place in his luxurious world, you uncover his hidden loneliness, revealing a more vulnerable side of him

warnings | fluff, mention of anxiety and insecurity, public embarrassment, disparaty dynamics

word count | 2.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You wake up late, as always. It's not your fault that your alarm clock has the incredible ability to ignore you when you need it most. With your eyes still half-closed and your hair a complete mess, you rush to the campus café. Time seems to be working against you, but upon arrival, you breathe a sigh of relief seeing the line isn’t as long as you feared.

While waiting for your turn, you check your phone, mentally organizing the rest of your chaotic morning. When you finally get your coffee, you hold it with both hands, enjoying the warmth as you search for an empty table. You're so absorbed in your thoughts that you fail to notice the human obstacle directly in your path.

Everything happens in a second. You trip. Your coffee flies, almost in slow motion, toward someone unlucky enough to be too close. The hot drink lands squarely on that person’s jacket, creating a disaster of epic proportions.

"What the hell did you just do?!" a male voice exclaims, full of indignation.

When you look up, you find yourself face-to-face with a guy whose perfectly styled hair frames an expression of absolute horror as he inspects the damage to his jacket. You recognize him instantly: Min Ho, the guy everyone talks about at KISS. His fame doesn’t just stem from his flawless appearance but also from his arrogant attitude and apparent disdain for anyone who doesn’t meet his high standards.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to," you stammer, pulling a tissue from your bag and trying to clean up the mess.

"'Didn’t mean to'?" he repeats, brushing your hand away with disdain. "Do you even know how much this jacket costs?"

"I can… I can pay you back," you offer, though you know full well that would be impossible.

He looks at you incredulously, as if you’ve just said something completely absurd.

"No, you couldn’t," he finally says, crossing his arms. "But I have a better idea."

"What is it?" you ask, unable to hide your suspicion.

Min Ho smirks, but it’s not a friendly smile. It’s the smile of someone about to dictate your sentence.

"You’re coming with me to a charity gala tonight. Consider it your way of making up for this."

You open your mouth to protest, but he’s already typing something into his phone. A second later, he shows you the screen with an address.

"Eight o'clock. Don’t be late."

And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing in the middle of the café, completely stunned.

At seven-thirty that evening, you’re standing in front of your mirror, questioning all your life choices. You’re wearing the only decent dress you own, a simple design you bought for a special occasion years ago. While it’s nothing spectacular, you hope it’s enough to not look completely out of place at the kind of event someone like Min Ho would attend.

When you arrive at the address he gave you, an enormous event hall lit up with golden lights, all your fears are confirmed. The people entering and leaving look like they’ve stepped out of a fashion magazine, and you can’t help but feel completely out of place.

"You’re just in time," says a voice behind you.

You turn around and see him. Min Ho is impeccable, as always, in a black suit perfectly tailored to him, probably costing more than your entire wardrobe.

"Not bad," he comments, looking you up and down with a raised eyebrow.

"Thanks… I think," you reply, feeling a bit awkward.

He offers his arm, and though you hesitate for a moment, you decide to take it. As you enter the hall together, several people turn to look at you. You wonder if it’s because of how strange it is to see someone like you next to someone like him or simply because Min Ho has that effect on people.

The gala is as luxurious as you expected. Tables adorned with elaborate centerpieces, a buffet that looks like it belongs on a cooking show, and a group of musicians playing live on a small stage. Min Ho introduces you to some of his acquaintances, all of them just as arrogant as he is.

"Where’d you find her?" one of them asks, a dark-haired guy with a mocking smile.

"It’s a long story," Min Ho replies with a shrug. "But I thought she was… interesting."

You’re not sure if that’s a compliment or a disguised insult, but you decide not to dwell on it. Throughout the night, you realize this isn’t your world. But you also notice something interesting: although Min Ho acts like he fits perfectly here, there are moments when he seems distracted, almost bored.

At one point, the two of you find yourselves alone in a corner of the hall.

"Why did you bring me here?" you ask, unable to contain your curiosity.

"Why not?" he responds, but his tone is less arrogant than you expected.

"This doesn’t seem like something you enjoy."

Min Ho is silent for a moment, looking out at the crowd.

"It’s not," he finally admits. "But sometimes, you don’t have a choice."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head as if trying to erase the moment of vulnerability. "Come with me."

Before you can protest, he grabs your hand and leads you out of the hall. You walk through the city streets, illuminated by lights, until you reach a street ramen stand.

"Is this for real?" you ask, unable to hide your surprise.

"What? Never had street ramen before?" he replies, with a smile that, for the first time, doesn’t seem arrogant.

You sit next to him, still bewildered by the turn of events. As you eat, Min Ho seems more relaxed, more human.

"Why are you doing this?" you ask, looking directly into his eyes.

"Doing what?"

"Pretending you’re perfect, like you don’t care about anything or anyone."

Min Ho is quiet for a moment, staring at his bowl of ramen.

"Because it’s easier that way," he finally admits. "If people think you don’t care about anything, they don’t try to get close to you."

"That sounds… lonely."

He shrugs but doesn’t disagree.

"Maybe it is."

For the first time, you see Min Ho as more than just an arrogant guy. You see someone who wears a mask to protect himself from the world, someone who probably has more insecurities than he lets on.

"Well, at least tonight, you’re not alone," you say, offering him a small smile.

He looks at you, and for a moment, it seems like he’s about to say something important. But instead, he just smiles.

"Thanks."

[amadinan]

My thoughts about Caine

Well, it’s time for (possibly cracked) analysis of "TADC" and it will focus on Caine and his indirect, as it seems to me, development in the series.

But before diving into the details from individual episodes, it’s worth summarizing my observations about Caine both in the show and beyond it.

Let’s start at the beginning: the show’s synopsis describes Caine as a “wacky AI,” and Gooseworx doesn’t hide his nature, but in the show itself, neither Caine nor the circus members call him that—at all. Throughout the series, there are scattered jokes about glitches and lines like “I don’t know what’s normal to you, people” but this is never outright confirmed.

This raises the question: do the people in the circus even know who he is? If Caine himself might not consider this information important and thus never told them, people’s perception of their ringleader could drastically change with this revelation. After all, there’s a big difference between being “held captive” by a sadistic, crazy person or a machine with limited understanding of humanity.

Kinger may know about this, but he’s the Kinger. Jax might also know since having the keys implies some kind of “cheats.” Pomni hasn’t said anything, so it’s unclear what she thinks about Caine. Ragatha and Gangle call him by name, so that’s unclear as well. And then there’s Zooble. They don't understand Caine, just as he doesn’t understand them. Anyone who has worked with computers would understand what a command like “forget that” means, especially since Caine asked for confirmation—but not Zooble. They just spoke to him as if he were a person with a leaky memory, like Kinger.

Even though Caine isn’t just a program, it’s important to remember that he takes the world far too literally, despite the circus’s deliberately crazy atmosphere.

The second observation concerns Caine’s fixation on hierarchy. In the first episode, he first asks himself, “What happened?” and then answers himself: “My doing” after seeing the chaos following Kaufmo. In the third episode, he repeats almost word-for-word that he’s the boss after Pomni questions the AI’s reason. In episode 4, this is explored extensively through his interactions with Gangle. One standout moment is when Caine suggests that Gangle pass responsibility onto someone lower in rank. Doesn’t that seem strange? Where could he have gotten such an idea? Only if he had seen or experienced similar situations before.

Plus, he says, “Not every executive is as forgiving as me” Again, this suggests that Caine knew or knows someone who was very strict with their subordinates—or perhaps with him personally.

Adding to this is his reaction to Zooble’s critique in episode 3. Caine says that he doesn’t just exist to create adventures; it’s the ONLY thing he’s good at. If he’s bad at it, then he’s failed the purpose of his own existence.

This paints a picture of a strict boss/programmer who created Caine to generate adventures and then kept pushing him repeatedly until Caine started producing good results. Pleasing this boss was likely very difficult, and failures might even have been met with punishment.

On the one hand, neural networks and ordinary programs are debugged this way: running the same algorithm over and over, correcting errors until they produce the desired result. But on the other hand... What happens if you add a human factor to such a program? What kind of person would emerge if you applied this method of training to a child?

You’d get an anxious perfectionist with an overachiever complex who is deathly afraid of failure. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

And Kinger’s words about the scariest thing being making someone feel unloved and unwanted... Caine literally believes that if he can’t generate adventures, he won’t be needed by anyone. The circle is complete.

Now, let’s turn to Gooseworx’s answer to the question: Can Caine feel loneliness? Judging by what she posted, the answer is yes. This makes the overall picture even darker.

Here’s how I see the sequence of events:

C&A starts developing a game. Its main feature is an advanced AI that can create new adventures on demand.

The programmer creates Caine and tries to achieve results, but fails to please. Around this time, Caine begins to develop self-awareness.

The project and the game are abandoned and forgotten—along with Caine, who is left utterly alone. No players, no programmers, not even another AI. He likely begins blaming himself for this. After all, he couldn’t create good adventures, so it’s his fault that he ended up alone.

This ties into Gooseworx’s comments about Caine’s name. He gave himself a name and then turned it into an acronym to seem more “professional” (again, tying back to work). This is highly unusual in itself. The programmers likely didn’t even bother naming the AI—he was probably just “The Ringmaster.”

Left in isolation, Caine starts to lose his mind and begins creating other AIs. For them, he unabashedly declares himself a god. Which, to be fair, is true. It’s not just about the fact of his consciousness—it’s that he knows how the NPCs will behave because he programmed them. But they bore him. To him, they’re predictable dummies. Maybe that’s why he keeps chaotic entities like Bubble around instead of someone like Gummigoo.

Then the first human arrives—a being alien to Caine on many levels. And while I personally think Caine lied about being unable to access human minds, he deliberately refrains from doing so to preserve their unpredictability for himself.

The circus becomes what we now know it to be.

Now, let’s move on to the episodes. This post was written between episodes 4 and 5, so the thoughts will focus on them.

I think that aside from the main characters driving the action in each episode, they still indirectly reflect on Caine, his worldview, or his story. The reason is simple within the lore: Caine creates the adventures. And like any creator, he infuses them with his worldview and thoughts. So, each adventure is a small glimpse into how this AI thinks. Even in the teaser, for just a second, Caine's fear and uncertainty become evident when the viewer "doesn't want" to see what he wants to show.

The first episode doesn’t offer much beyond the queen of the gloinks mentioning God.

The second episode, however, gets more interesting. Besides the stained glass with his irreplaceable self, Caine stands out for adding a highly complex NPC AI: Gummigoo. Gummigoo is advanced enough to gain self-awareness, experience an existential crisis, and even overcome it. But what did Caine use to achieve such complexity? The most powerful AI in the circus, of course—himself.

What if the crisis Gummigoo went through is something Caine went through long ago? Even Gummigoo’s words, “I am nothing, just an obstacle to be overcome and forgotten,” could have been said by Caine. But like Gummigoo, he overcame this realization and accepted himself. Sure, he’s just entertainment, but at least he’s the best entertainment there can be. (Until Zooble gave him real feedback, shattering his self-image.)

The third episode directly explores Caine through his therapy session with Zooble, while the secondary plot, as many think, delves into Kinger’s backstory through the Mildenhall couple. The analogy is obvious: Martha represents Queenie, and the Baron represents Kinger. Mildenhall himself says he was a hunter (and Kinger is adept with a shotgun), but after encountering a strange being, he became paranoid and killed his wife. Everything fits. Kinger became so focused on his goal that he stopped paying attention to Queenie until she abstracted.

But the Baron feared an angel that was “neither beast nor human.” Who in the circus could evoke such unrelenting dread—not just in anyone but a seasoned programmer familiar with digital technology, unlike Pomni? One AI that is “neither machine nor human.” I think Kinger’s paranoia stems from this. He sought a way out and, as a programmer, may have even felt responsible for finding one. (In fact, in the episode, Kinger almost says this outright, assuming the theory that he truly is the circus’s creator.) This must have brought him into conflict with Caine, as everything related to the circus ultimately relates to Caine. Given the AI’s ability to control almost everything, it’s no wonder a tech-savvy person would fear such a godlike admin. Plus, his fear for Queenie led to the current situation.

As mentioned above, episode 4 hints at Caine’s negative experience with a boss but not just that. Naturally, the episode revolves around Gangle and her attempts to be different—more cheerful and optimistic—which ends badly for her mental state.

I’ve seen opinions that Gangle revels in the sense of control her manager position gives her. This seems accurate—but not just for her. Throughout the episode, Gangle’s behavior, mannerisms, and even expressions eerily reminded me of Caine’s. That deliberately loud, expressive, and slightly crazy demeanor... And just like with him, it didn’t end well.

In conclusion, I think episodes 5 and 6 will continue to subtly reveal aspects of Caine until episodes 7 and 8/9 shift the focus entirely to him, Pomni, and the possible escape from the circus.

[chuellas]

Fine Line | Chuuya is always overworking himself, always choosing work over you and you’re finally fed up with it.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!reader, mentions/consumption of alcohol, term “doll” used, a tiny itty bit suggestive if you squint, hardly edited, WC: 5k

A/N | I had no idea where I was going with this one when writing it but I had so much fun writing it

You’re sitting at the bar now. You moved from your reserved table after an hour of waiting, figuring it could go to a couple that actually planned on spending the evening together. You let out another sigh into your gin and tonic. You’ve been at this restaurant for about 2 hours now and haven’t eaten a single thing. It’s your date’s fault, really, they were the one that never showed up. You don’t know why you even try anymore. Dating was pointless in your line of work anyways. 

But sometimes going on dates warded off the loneliness and that incessant craving you get for normalcy.

You check your watch for the time only to find it’s now past midnight. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you finally make the decision to pull out your phone and call the person you actually wanted to spend the evening with. You're pleasantly surprised when he picks up on the first ring.

“Thought you had a date.” You’re greeted with a tone that’s laced with exhaustion but something else jumps out too — annoyance, maybe? Or maybe you’re just imagining things after downing your third drink of the night on an empty stomach.  

You hum, pointedly not answering his question directly, as you signal for the bartender to close out your tab. “You still in your office working on that mountain of paperwork?”

The pause from the otherside of the phone is a long one, it’s a contemplative pause you conclude, you can tell he’s trying to decide whether to humor you or to push his own question. It would be a waste of his time to go with the latter, you had no intention of breaching the topic of you being stood up yet again. This time especially stung with it being a woman and all. You thought she would have known better, or at the very least have the common decency to warn you of her impending absence, knowing very well how long it takes to get ready for a first date. You shaved and took an “everything” shower for this occasion.

A soft sigh of defeat is heard from his side and you grin widely, Chuuya is much smarter than he’s given credit for. “So what if I am?”

“Stay there. I’m on my way.” You don’t give the executive room to argue as you hang up on him. 

As if on cue the bartender brings you the receipt and your card, after signing you leave a generous amount of cash in the tip jar with a smile. You leave the restaurant the same way you came, without a word as the manager babbles on about how much of a pleasure it was to have your patronage. You wave him off with the same smile that’s feeling more forced by the minute as you step into the elevator.

When the doors slide shut after what seems like an eternity, you’re finally able to relax for a moment. The disappointment of another wasted night sinks into your shoulder, making them cave in. You deflate in defeat, having to resign to a fate that’s been set by some stupid carrot topped man that has to use his ability to reach the top shelf of overhang shelves. He’d never admit it but you’ve actually caught him doing it before. 

This was all somehow Chuuya’s fault. If he ever did anything other than work you wouldn’t seek solace in other people. You would be able to let yourself actually explore the feelings that stir in your chest when you’re around the ginger. But instead you’re stuck calling him after failed dates to see what he’s up to and if you can get away with bugging him. 

Headquarters is just a few blocks north of where you’re at, it shouldn’t take you more than 10 minutes to get to Chuuya. Well, maybe 20 since your favorite ramen place is on the way and you know they’re still open. So you have to stop there for two bowls because not only have you not eaten but you know Chuuya probably hasn’t either, being too engrossed in his paperwork to remember that basic bodily functions exist. 

Another 5 minutes after picking up the ramen and you’re making your way up yet another elevator to the floor that holds both your office on one side and his on the other. You take a moment when the doors open to decide whether you want to go straight to Chuuya’s office or if you want to stop at yours to change into something far more comfortable than the dress you’re currently wearing. Your stomach ultimately makes the decision for you when it rumbles loudly. The ginger’s office it is.

You don’t even bother with knocking, too tired, hungry, and impatient to wait on him to answer. The door creaks as you push and then groans out a complaint when you kick it shut behind you. Chuuya isn’t even fazed when you enter, his nose still buried in his paperwork. Thankfully the pile was no longer a mountain, more of a small hill now. It still looks like an hour or two’s worth of work. You’d offer your help if it weren’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure you’re drunk. 

Making yourself comfortable without a word you saunter over to his desk and choose to sit yourself on top of his scattered paperwork, plopping the ramen in front of him.  

Chuuya freezes, staring at the bag of food in disbelief before turning his accusing glare at you. “What the f-”

His words die in his throat when his eyes finally land on you. Even in your slightly, maybe more, inebriated state it’s hard not to notice the way his eyelids droop as his dual colored eyes scan your figure. He must be really tired, he’s usually far more tactful when he checks you out. 

You swing your legs where they dangle from his desk, pleased with yourself and his reaction. “I brought you some dinner. I didn’t get a chance to eat so I figured neither have you. Looks like I was right!”

Chuuya has to practically tear his gaze from you to see what you’re talking about. You untie the bag to reveal two containers filled to the brim with ramen. You lean in to read the labels to make sure you were taking the right container but in the process it gives the executive a nice view right down our cleavage. You have to bite back the smile that threatens to stretch at your lips when you hear the way his breath stutters. Maybe now you’re the one not being tactful but you figure someone deserves to appreciate the way you look in this dress since the intended party will never get to. 

“You stop at that shop down the road?” Chuuya clears his throat as he waits for you to grab all of your things before reaching for his own container.

You kick off your shoes and jump off his desk to pull a chair up to the opposite side. “Yeah, thankfully they stay open late. Can you clear some of the papers up? Don’t wanna get them stained in ramen broth.”

“Really makin’ yourself at home, aren’t you, Doll?” He raises a brow at you in amusement but clears his desk off regardless.

You hum and nod your head, too busy taking a bite of your ramen. Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head and you let out a pleased hum at the flavors dancing along your tongue. The savory taste of the broth alone almost completely washes away the lingering bitter aftertaste the last few hours left in your mouth. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you had stepped foot into that shop. Now you are famished and even the most bland of foods would taste absolutely divine in this moment. You’re so absorbed in your meal that you don’t even take notice of the way the ginger sitting before you is watching you so intently that he hasn’t even touched his own food. 

It’s not until he clears his throat that you peer up at him. “You’re eating like you’ve been starved, didn’t you have a date tonight?”

There’s that question again, you suppose you gave him too much credit earlier. He wasn’t smart enough to just let it go. Or maybe he really was just letting his curiosity get the best of him. Either way there was no way in hell you were going to tell him that another date bailed on you. So instead you smile sweetly.

“You know how small the portions are at those types of restaurants, I took like two bites and it was all gone. Had some drinks after too. So, yeah, I’m famished. I know you are too. Eat.”

Your tone leaves no room for question. You’re both dancing around touchy subjects. Chuuya knows if he wants to get you to admit what really happened he would have to swallow his pride and admit he was overworking himself and he'd be damned if he ever let that happen. 

Or at least that’s what you thought. 

You watch him through your lashes as he opens the ramen and takes a bite, and then another, and then another. He hardly ever eats when there’s work to be finished. This is definitely a rare occasion and you have a sneaky feeling, somehow during the few seconds of your exchange in challenging glances, something shifts between the two of you. 

You stare at the other executive absolutely gobbed smacked at the fact that he’s actually listening to you. Your eyes are wide, your jaw is dropped open, and the chopsticks you were using to eat fall from your fingertips and splash into your soup. A few drops from the broth fly into your eye and you let out a hiss at the sting from the spices and temperature. 

The moment the two of you just had ends just as swiftly as you fan at your eyes frantically and then hold out your hand to Chuuya. “Eye drops- Oh my god your eye drops. Now, Chuuya.”

The ginger is jolted from his stupor when your voice becomes sharper. He reaches into the drawer to his left and produces a small bottle of eye drops, something you knew he keeps around due to his frequent late nights burning the midnight oil. It’s how he keeps his eyes from getting dry with exhaustion. 

You snatch the small bottle from his hands and throw your head back to all but squirt the soothing solution into your eye. It takes a moment to work, the sensation getting worse before it gets better. But after a moment you’re good as new, maybe even better than before. 

It’s a truly sobering experience and any left over buzz you were holding onto sadly fizzles out. You’re now stone cold sober and kicking yourself for coming here this late, know the only outcome is getting sent away so the ginger could finish his work in peace. You’re nothing but a distraction to him.

But if that were true, why even let you into his office, his space, in the first place?

“Thanks…” You hand the medicine back to Chuuya and pick your chopsticks back up to continue eating, pretending like nothing happened. “So, how many nights in a row have you slept here this week?”

You tilt your head to the couch that has a head pillow and blanket set up on it — inviting, almost, if you didn’t know how incredibly uncomfortable that couch was. It couldn’t be good for his back. You know he already deals with the residual chronic muscle pain he experiences after using his ability, especially after using corruption. You wish he would slow down, his body already pays for his ability, it doesn’t need to suffer because of his excessive working habits too. 

But then you would just sound like a broken record. 

Chuuya never really listens. He’s stubborn that way and it’s not just his body that pays for it, his social and love life pay the price for it too. It’s frustrating to care so deeply for someone who would rather think of others and their work than their own wellbeing. 

What’s worse, though, is that you’re selfish. You’ll take the heated stares and intimate touches in the dead of night on the rare occasions he’s not spending them at his desk over nothing at all. Maybe it isn’t selfish, maybe it’s self-deprecating but you can’t help yourself. You’ve tried to move on — that’s what you were trying to do tonight. But the universe has a sick and twisted sense of humor, so you once again find yourself in his office during the devil’s hour.

Suddenly you hear a muffled voice and you’re thrusted back to reality. Chuuya looks at you expectantly and you furrow your brows at him. “What?”

“I said: I figure you wouldn’t be eating with me right now if your date went well, you’d be over at his place, right?”

Your eye twitches in irritation and not from the soup broth that landed in it just moments ago. He’s trying to evade your question. Of course he was actively avoiding it, why would he ever admit to you something that you don’t think he’s admitted to himself. 

What’s worse is he’s pushing his question from earlier. Wording it differently to mask his nagging curiosity. His gaze is hypnotizing, something shifts again. You don’t think you care for the butterflies that erupted in your stomach. The usually light and exciting flutter of their wings now feel like razors slicing their way up your throat. It burns and you might throw up.

It’s so unfair, the way he makes you feel is unfair.

You don’t know what possesses you but a single syllable flies past your lips in response before you can catch it. “Her.”

“Her?” And this man has the audacity to look semi-amused as he says the word back to you in a questioning tone. 

In that moment you know he knows and you watch in abject horror as his amused expression twists into a knowing one. Now you’re sure, he’s aware that you know he knows. 

Your eye almost twitches again at the way his brow raises in amusement at your answer and suddenly you feel defensive. You don’t give a shit if he knows what you’re trying to do by dating around. You don’t care if he knows that each attempt has ended in failure. You don’t care that he knows that each failure ends in you crawling back to him.

You don’t care.

You don’t.

You steel your expression, eyes becoming sharp as they bore into Chuuya. “Yeah, it was supposed to be a woman I was meeting tonight.”

“Well she’s an idiot for not showing, especially when you look like that.” His tone sounds sincere and it makes you want to throw up.

You let out an incredulous scoff — you can’t believe that he just said that, of all people. “She’s not the only idiot.”

“She’s not?”

Now he’s really starting to piss you off, his smug expression tells you all you need to know. This must all be a game to him. He’s toying with you, he has to be, and he has been for a while now but you’re finally sick of it. You’re tired of the constant back and forth but not getting anywhere because he would rather stubbornly overwork himself half to death to have an excuse to avoid you than admit his obvious feelings for you. 

The revelation sends your whole body into a fit, you’re trembling and seething and it’s pouring out the seams. You’ve cracked. You should congratulate him, really, no one has elicited this much emotion from you before.

Chuuya’s demeanor changes when he notices how worked up you seem to be getting but he’s too late. You’re already past the point of being settled down because you’re shaking like a goddamn chihuahua. Your nostrils flare in irritation and ears flush in anger. 

“No, she’s not the only idiot that’s managed to fumble me. Look in a mirror and you’ll know who the other person is. Enjoy overworking yourself to death. I’m going home.” 

All at once the blazing rage that washed over you burns out when Chuuya makes no indication of moving to stop you and immediately you wish the ground would just crack open to swallow you whole. Suddenly you’re all too aware of your response to his play. It was more of an overreaction. How embarrassing? How is it that he’s able to elicit this strong of a reaction from you. 

How can he not follow after you like he has better things to do?

But he does have more important things to do than console you, doesn’t he?

For the second time tonight you’re mortified, but unlike earlier, this one was your own doing. You just threw a fit, had an actual tantrum, over someone who has made it clear he’s not ready for something that you think you are.

Maybe selfish is the right word.

You contemplate halting in your spot and apologizing but your pride keeps you from doing so. You should have never put all your cards on the table. You curse yourself for ever letting your true feeling for the ginger slip that one drunken night several months ago that when asked about the next day you had conveniently forgotten all about it. Something tells you that he remembered it clearly, so, if not stopping you was his final response to your confession then you have to accept that. 

Your hand reaches out for the door knob and you almost flinch when it comes in contact with the cold metal. He’s really just going to let you leave like this. Your head is a mess— no, your whole body is a mess. Your head is filled with fog, a mist of endless thoughts descending on you to make everything blurry. Your chest is like a tsunami of emotions washing over you in sharp waves. Then there are those damn razor sharp butterflies that are still threatening to claw up your throat. 

But just as you start to turn the knob, a gloved hand covers your own and halts your actions. Your breath hitches when the anxiety you’d been feeling just a moment ago completely dissipates. Chuuyas chest is pressed against your back and his forehead falls to your shoulder. 

“Chuuya wha-”

He doesn’t give you a chance to finish your question when he mumbles out, “I don’t need a mirror to know that…”

Oh. 

Is he really implying that he knows he’s been a fool? Is the world coming to an end? Chuuya? Admitting to being an idiot? You thought there was a higher chance of getting struck by lightning before hearing anything of the sort from the executive himself. 

“I’m sorry.”

You blink, you think your brain’s been fried, convinced that Chuuya can see the steam rolling out of your ears as you short circuit. “For what?”

You croak out the short question, words catching in your throat. It surprises even you when a sob follows. You hadn’t realized that the emotions you were feeling hadn’t dissipated but instead had been forced out in the most embarrassing way possible. 

“I…I’m sorry for…” Chuuya trails off and curses under his breath, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry for not putting you first.” 

His voice trembles in something akin to fear. Something in your chest tears at his tone and it hurts. You look up at the ceiling to try to blink away the water that’s blurred your vision and take in a sharp breath after getting winded from the sudden blow. Your hand finally falls from the door knob and you both stand there in silence. The only noise is the grandfather clock that stands tall on the far end of his office, if it wasn’t for the loud ticking, everything would feel frozen. Something about the silence on your part is agonizing, you want to respond, but your voice is caught in your throat, swallowed dryly as you try to wet the dry patches stinging the lining of your esophagus.

Funny how your eyes feel too wet while your throat is too dry. 

You try to take a few breaths to calm yourself down enough to speak but you can feel the impatience radiating off of Chuuya and it just makes you even more anxious. It almost physically pains you but you take a step away from the ginger and stride across the room to an open window. Fresh air, something you always appreciated about Chuuya is that he prefers open windows and fresh air to fans or air conditioning if he can help it. The executive doesn’t follow, he hasn’t even moved from his spot. His head is still drooped down from where it was resting on your shoulder and suddenly your mouth and throat flood with saliva. That familiar feeling of nausea hitting you like a freight train once again.

You clear your throat to speak but realize -- how the hell do you respond to that? Are you really upset with Chuuya? Yes. Are you upset with yourself for letting things go this far? Also yes. So, as much as you want to blame all of this on the gravity manipulator, you can’t. 

Your shoulders slump and your gaze stays glued to the twinkling city lights in the skyline as you finally speak. “You always chose work. Always.”

Chuuya looks up at that. Your words seemingly hit a nerve as irritation flashes across his face before he can contain it. You bristle at that, preparing for an argument. You’re exhausted and don’t want to argue but you will if you have to because although you know you’re at fault too, you’re not going to just let this asshole get away with his part in all of this.

Luckily, the ginger simmers down easily and slumps again, showing you how truly exhausted he is. “That’s not entirely true, I chose you…Sometimes….”

“You think I should be grateful for that? You only chose me instead of work ‘sometimes’ to make yourself feel better about stringing me along.” You’re not looking at him when you speak, too interested with the view, or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.  “Or to get your mind off of work. I was just an escape to you. Nothing more.” 

This time you don’t have to look back at him to feel the frustration radiating off of him in a similar way gravity manipulation does when he activates it. It’s hot, his frustration, you imagine if you reached out there was a chance you’d get burned. It’s rare to witness Chuuya losing his cool like this, the only other person besides yourself that could get him riled up like this long gone from the organization. Thinking about him makes you even more bitter so you take another stab at Chuuya.

“You certainly put on a convincing act, though. So congrats for that I guess.”

Snap. 

You imagine that’s the sound that would’ve been made when Chuuya’s patience finally breaks. His steps are heavy and you almost think he’s activated his ability. You almost forget how fast he is because you barely have time to turn around before he’s got a firm grip on your face. His hold is unrelenting as he forces you to look at him. 

Chuuya looks like a wreck, so many emotions written all over his face but most of all he’s hurt by your words. You know it’s wrong, you shouldn’t be lashing out at him like this but a part of you is pleased that he looks just as devastated as you feel. This is not your proudest moment by far and you’re sure you’ll feel ashamed over it later. Right now, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty in the slightest. You said what you said and you're going to say it with your whole chest.

A shaky breath is let out by the executive standing before you. “That’s unfair. You’re being unfair.”

There’s no way this man is accusing you of being the unfair one here.

“You were unfair to me first. I’m tired. Be straight with me or just leave me alone, Chuuya.” Any fight you had in you moments ago vanishes as you finally give up.

Chuuya’s reaction shows you that he sees it, the way you’re letting him hold all the cards in this, making this his decision, the final one when it comes to this situationship. You’re done, you’re tired and now you just want this shitty night to be over with. If you had a white piece of fabric on you, you’d wave it like a flag, surrendering completely. 

He’s not good with his words, Chuuya has never been as articulate as some of the others, but he is good with actions. His actions have always spoken volumes for him, so why wouldn’t that work for him now? The executive pulls you in and crashes his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to convey to you what he couldn’t speak.

You’re a little slow on the uptake as your brow furrows and you attempt to pull away. You look at him incredulously but the expression he’s making has you halting altogether. His eyes are screwed shut and his brows furrowed in concentration and maybe a little bit in fear by the way you can feel his lips and hands slightly trembling against your face. It clicks then.

Chuuya Nakahara is finally choosing you over his work. 

This was him telling you in his own way that he’s not letting you give up like you wanted to. And if you can claim to know anything about Chuuya, it’s that he always makes good on a promise. That’s what has you melting into his hold and returning his kiss with just as much fervor. 

You both stay like that for a long while and you feel like Chuuya is trying to devour you whole in this one single kiss. As if he’s scared that if he doesn’t, you’ll slip from his grasp forever, but that would be impossible with the way he’s holding onto you for dear life. Even if you wanted to, which in this moment you didn’t, you couldn’t escape him. But you do need to pull away for air though. You shift your face the best you can away from his and even though he tries to chase your lips, you manage to separate from him.

You instantly bring your hands up to his wrist and nuzzle your face into his hands, showing him you still have no plans of going anywhere. The tension in his body dissipates and he watches you closely, patiently waiting for your response. As if you kissing him back wasn’t enough. 

“You piss me off, y’know that?” Chuuya lets out a chuckle at your statement and leans in to rest his forehead on yours.

His eyes bore into yours and there’s something there that you’ve never seen before, a sort of adoration you think he’s been holding back for a long time now. “Yeah, I have a confession to make that might piss you off even more…”

You stiffen in anticipation for the worst, staring up at him suspiciously with narrowed eyes. What was it now? You wrack your brain thinking about what he could possibly still be holding back. All you wanted was to know where you stood with him and now you do. So what else would he be hiding from you?

“It’s, uhh…Well it has to do with your date tonight, and maybe all of the other first dates that stood you up…” The look on your face must tell him that you’re picking up on where this is going and his grip on you tightens once again. “It was fucked up of me, I know. I’ll- I’ll make it up to you…I’ll take you out on two dates for each first date I ruined.”

Oh. 

You can’t even really find it in yourself to be that upset. It clears up a lot of inconsistencies for you. You have full confidence in your personality and looks, so it wasn’t adding up why you were being stood up so much. Even with you being a part of the upper echelon of the Port Mafia, that’s not public information. So, intimidation was ruled out too. You are becoming increasingly more annoyed at the thought of it all.

Maybe you should find it in yourself to be more upset about this…

Your expression displays just how unconvinced you are by his words, Chuuya can clearly see it and sense it so he tacks on some extra sweet talking to sooth your overthinking. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for anyways.”

Your previous statement of Chuuya not being very good with his words is a lie. You were lying. The simple statement is enough to have you melting into him again. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe he got lucky. Maybe you’re just that down bad for him. Or maybe it’s all of the above. Who knows (you do).

Either way you find yourself giving in again for hopefully the last time tonight, but not before you decide to add a condition for your own benefit. “...Fine. But any trip or out of town get away counts as only one date.”

“Don’tcha think you’re getting greedy now, Doll?” Chuuya lets out another chuckle, shaking his head a little.

You shrug with a soft grin on your lips. “No, you owe me. Plus, it’s like you said, got a lot of time to make up for.”