#I don’t know if the schedule thing works

[pedgito]

𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 | Harry Castillo x reader

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summary | Five years of being his assistant and five years of failed attempts at finding love with your help, but maybe the obvious answer has been there the entire time. Alternatively, you fucked your boss? Uh-oh.

author's note | harry...randy...who knows. i'll change it if needed but given the name tag, this is what i'm sticking with for now. skip the lecture about not writing until the movie is out, this isn't hurting anyone so don't bother me about it, xo. the horny demons always win. i listened to this song i repeat while i wrote, felt fitting.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, power imbalance (boss/assistant), work wife/work husband type beat, mentions of failed dating, being superficial, mentions of sugar daddy things, expensive gifts, reader is a godly assistant with a will stronger than mine, he smokes, they drink, sex while inebriated, he's down so bad, also oral!, tense morning after, open-ended

word count — 4.5k

You knew him better than anyone.

From his breakfast order down to his specific choice of underwear, like you weren’t making the weekly purchases and filling up his rarely used fridge in the apartment that was way out your price range, arranging his schedule down to the minute, booking his flights, packing his bag.

Really, Harry should just marry you.

…it was more of a joke, but you’ve teased him about it once or twice.

He called you his work wife anyways, but in reality, you were just his assistant.

He did trust you with his life, though.

More importantly, his love life.

“Kim flaked,” he tells you over coffee, perched at his kitchen island as you typed away on your laptop, looking up briefly with eyes that begged for him to explain, he does and makes a show about, mimicking a more feminine voice as he relays the message she gave him, “same song and dance—you’re great and fun but I can’t do anything serious right now,”

“Were you nice?” you ask curiously.

Harry rolls his eyes at that, like it was a stupid question to ask. But, eventually he nods.

“Did you ask questions?” you continue, fingers folding over the screen of your laptop to close it.

“Plenty, she works in finance, loves the color blue, wants to travel,” he could go on and on, throwing his hands up in defeat before they slump to his side, “maybe I should try out a real matchmaker—not that you’re bad at it—”

“You think I’m bad at it,” you smile knowingly, “don’t you?”

“No,” you’re unconvinced, “besides—you’re my assistant, I never meant for that type of responsibility to fall on you, you know?”

“I’m doing both of us a favor,” you remind him, “I think…it just takes time.”

And fortunately, all you had was time.

It felt pointless for Harry to spend a chunk of cash to have someone pair him up with the supposed love of his life, though you knew that money wasn’t a problem, you felt a weird responsibility to protect him, unsure how quickly someone would take advantage of his kindness.

“There’s a gala,” you tell him offhandedly, “next week. I already cleared your schedule for it. I think…maybe you should just peruse this time.”

“Peruse?” he chuckles, eyes creasing in amusement, his crow’s feet deepening with the emotion, “You’re a control freak, you sure about that?”

“That’s just mean,” you retort, “you’re paying me anyways—if you didn’t like it you’d fire me.”

He knew you were right, sipping quietly at his coffee in response.

He was frustrating, predictable, and painfully superficial. 

Every date was an exercise in appearances—perfectly tailored suits, dinner at the most exclusive places, charm turned up to eleven. And yet, none of it ever stuck. He was overcompensating and you weren’t sure why.

He was a good guy, down to his core, and in the five years you had worked with him there was never a moment you thought he didn’t deserve love, he was perfect. Too perfect.

That was the problem.

“You know, you’re like prime age to be a sugar daddy,” you tease him, knowing how he felt about the topic, “there’s plenty of apps that I can—”

“You’re relentless,” he grumbles, “if you ever did that, I’m firing you on the spot.”

“You wouldn’t,” it was a gentle challenge, smirk flashing across your face as he returned it with fondness, “without me you would crash and burn, Mr. Castillo.”

And he knows it.

–

The gala is a bust.

So, as a bandaid to his wounded ego, you order takeout and keep him company in his big, lavish apartment—it wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.

You knew what the issue was, but there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that told you he wouldn’t receive the information well.

It was after every failed date, every expensive dinner.

They saw him at the surface, the charming man with an easy, warm smile.

You saw the man who kicked his shoes off and stripped himself of his suit jacket the second he walked through the door, who couldn’t resist a late-night binge of his newest streaming obsession, someone who insisted on stirring his coffee counterclockwise because it made it taste better, a man would text you pictures of squirrels in the park that he would feed on his way home.

It wasn’t that you were pining over him. You just knew him better than anyone.

“Why are you so dead set on marriage?” you ask him over dinner, turned toward him on the couch as he reaches for the remote to pause the show on screen.

He’s had this conversation before, but he’s never asked you any questions on the matter.

“What’s your opinion on it?” he’s avoiding, clearly, but you’ll bite.

“I don’t date, I’m not interested, signing a piece of paper isn’t going to signify my feelings toward someone if it came down to that,” you admit, “I’m not cynical, marriage is fine, but this stuff takes time,”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger,” Harry gripes, arms reaching over the back of the couch as he mirrors your position.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, “you’re forty-nine.”

“Almost fifty,” he corrects, “I’m ancient.”

“O-kay,” you sigh, “do you want honesty?”

“I’d hope you were being honest with me all the time.”

“No,” you laugh softly, “like…brutal fucking honesty?”

He’s silent, but attentive. 

“You keep choosing women who treat you like they’re next getaway vacation and you fall for it every time,” his forehead creases at the words, looking hurt by your words, “I see your bank payments every month, the activity—”

“It’s not like money is an issue,” he defends, causing you to sigh dramatically and fall back against the arm of the couch in faux distress.

“This is impossible,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling before you feel his hand circle around your wrist, tugging gently,

“Okay, I’m listening,” Harry says softly, pulling you upright, “I’m sorry—I am.”

“You want it to work so bad,” you tell him, “I see it—every time you approach someone you put on that smile and it works, but you’re giving so much and yeah, maybe some of them like that, but I’m sure a few would just enjoy a nice dinner here, or something simple. I think you forget to realize that someone can just be interested in you, for you, not for what you are or have,”

It’s profound, the way his face softens at your words, his touch still lingering around your wrist.

You’ve never even considered or entertained the idea that you might find Harry attractive or even attainable—for one, you had signed a contract that agreed to a professional work relationship, as a benefit for both of you, not that he ever had any intention to begin with.

You’ve been with him for so long, it feels, a fresh and young mind to help keep him active and busy, constantly refreshing ideas and helping him not feel like he was stuck, and you were damn good at taking care of him when he’s often tended to neglect himself.

The only thing you know is that he’s never looked at you like that.

Like you could see straight through him, all his flaws on display.

But, that was because you knew all of them.

You knew everything about him, even the worse bits.

His bad habits, his self-inflicting ones, everything that he refused to bring to the surface.

Harry’s fingers still lingered around your wrist, the weight of your words sinking in. 

But then, just like he always did, he broke the tension with a huff of laughter and frowns as he brushed you off.

“You just think I’m a sucker, don’t you?”

You shook your head with a faint smile, returning your arm to your lap.

“No—I think you like to see the good in people. So much good that you’re willing to ignore red flags.”

“Jeez,” he chuckled, clutching his stomach like you had physically wounded him, “that hurt.”

You shrugged and reached for the remote to resume the picture on screen, “You’ll survive.”

–

It was your day off—Sunday, the one day.

“Have you seen my cufflinks laying around?” he asked over the video call, “Shit—my tie, too. I can’t find it anywhere. I thought you said you laid it out for me.”

“No, I said I had it hung up and for you to lay it out before you showered,” you correct him, laying tiredly on your couch as you watched him search around frantically, hair damp and his bare shoulders on display, only catching the briefest glimpses of the towel around his waist as he turned the camera around, “Waitwait—go back!”

“There’s no fucking way you saw it,” Harry argues, “I’ve been looking for the last ten minutes—”

“In the pocket of your suit, the tie is there,” you tell him, “and given that you probably tossed the suit on the bed like you always do, the cufflinks are probably somewhere hiding under the blanket,”

He tosses you against the mattress, your screen succumbing to darkness as you wait, some shifting of the sheets before you hear him make a sound before he appears again, cufflinks pinched between his fingers and a look of defeat on his face.

“What would you do without me?” you ask with a cocky grin, finger hovering over the end call button as he shakes his head.

“What was this for again?” Harry asks curiously, laying you down upright as you caught a glimpse of his bare chest as he shrugged the crisp, white button down over his shoulders.

“It’s a charity auction, your favorite,” you chirp, “and you’re flying solo, so—don’t do anything stupid or…crass,”

“If I paid you double a day of work would you go?” Harry asks after a long pause, glancing down at the screen, “Triple?”

“Triple?!” you gawk, “see—you’re insane, this is what I’m talking about,”

He chuckles despite your response, “You’re good at keeping the sharks away,”

There were particular hawking businessmen who made it their mission to hunt Harry down at events and keep him occupied, eager to do business, whatever it may be—you were the unspoken master of redirection, as much as he refused to admit it.

“Can we grab dinner on the way?” 

“Burgers?” Harry asks, perking up slightly.

It was a constant go-to for you and him.

You nod through the screen, “Don’t even bother with the tie either, I’ll do it.”

–

“I can’t believe you roped me into this on my day off,” you whisper at his side, earning a half-smirk from him.

The charity auction was as lavish as you’d expected.

Crystal chandeliers, gold accents, and far too much champagne and hors d'oeuvres. 

Harry’s hand found the small of your back the moment you arrived, steering you through a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos, feeling uncomfortable in the tight dress and stilettos that you only wore on rare occasions, biting at your heels.

“You’ll survive,” he grins, grabbing you both a glass of champagne and pressing it into your waiting fingers, “I’m gonna…peruse, alright?”

“Don’t say it—that just makes you sound like a creep,” your face scrunches up in disgust as you sip at the alcohol, “just go—go, I’ll…handle everything else.”

The evening passed in a blur of small talk and polite smiles, but somewhere between the endless speeches and bidding wars, you found yourself on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief in the stuffy ballroom.

You smell him before you see him, the thick and rich scent of his cologne so familiar you swear you could find him on that alone, turning over your shoulder to see him closing the door quietly, cigarette pack tucked in his palm as he approached with a neutral expression.

“You okay?” you ask, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and then plucking a single cigarette from the box, “Honestly? I’m just tired of it.”

“The auctions? Charity?” you inquire, a small smile tugging at your face.

“All of it.” He looked at you, his gaze lingering as he lit the tobacco, “The events, the dates, searching for—I don’t even fucking know at this point,”

“The offer stands…” you say jokingly, though he knows exactly where this is heading.

“If I wanted a sugar baby I’d find one.”

Your eyes roam over his figure as he puffs at the cigarette, pulling a deep laugh from his chest before you’re pushing him away playfully.

“Let’s go,” he tells you with a deep sigh, stubbing out the end of the cigarette and tucking it away for later, tossing his arm over your shoulder as he readied to guide you through the crowd, always protective in spaces like this, another thing that was special to him.

–

The ride home is quiet, like it always is, both of you sitting in the backseat with the partition up, watching as he looked through his phone with a scowl, occasional typing and sending a message.

Eventually, he looks at you.

“Thank you,” He says with a soft tone, “I know this isn’t your favorite thing to do.”

You tilted your head into the headrest and smiled, crossing one thigh over the other as you worked at your heels to remove them, “Oh, it wasn’t that bad—the free alcohol is always a plus.”

He chuckled at that, silently helping you remove your shoes with a soft squeeze to your foot.

That was normal—but, it forces you to pause.

His natural instinct to help, to touch, to comfort you.

Your brow furrows at the gesture before you shake it away, blaming it on the buzz of alcohol in your system, watching as he continues the gesture with the other foot.

“Having you there makes it bearable, is all,” he explains, looking up at you briefly as he undid the tie around your ankle, “you…calm me, I guess.”

You swallowed. Hard.

The warmth of his words lingering in your chest, in his touch against your ankle, “You’d do the same for me.”

And he would—if you ever needed anything, anything, Harry was there.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “without question.”

The sincerity caught you off guard. 

You turned to study him, the familiar slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. There was something about the way he looked tonight—tired, maybe, but softer. 

And he keeps looking at you, checking.

The car moved smoothly through the dimly lit streets, the city blurring past in streaks of gold and blues and reds. The hum of the engine was steady, the faint sound of music barely audible from the front, through the glass, the back lit up dimly by the trim of lights on the roof and door.

Harry leaned back, one hand moved against the seat, his other hand dragging slowly over his thigh—restless. 

Instinctually, without thinking, you reached for his hand.

It wasn’t purposeful. Just a simple act of absentmindedness.

You’ve done it a hundred times before. 

Tugged at his sleeves to fix his cufflinks, brushed lint from his lapel or pants, adjusted the collar of his shirts. Constantly fixed his hair, touching him wasn’t new.

His skin was warm. Not hot, not cold.

You felt the slight twitch of his hand, like he was debating whether to move. Instead, his fingers shifted, just a fraction, enough that the edge of his thumbnail brushed over the inside of your wrist.

The contact was thoughtless, nothing.

But, in the same moment, it felt like everything.

The way his eyes watched the movement, roamed your body like they had before but with a different implication, his eyes half-lidded and relaxed, wondering how much alcohol he had consumed himself—this wasn’t friendly.

And it definitely wasn’t professional.

Harry’s gaze was on you now, your face, as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand.

Then his thumb moved. 

Up. 

Barely. 

A soft drag along your pulse.

It was half a decade of avoidance, defeat in his heart and mind, and fear in your own.

Broken, by the car rolling to a stop outside of Harry’s apartment building.

“We’re here, Mr. Castillo,” the voice of the driver came from the front, a nod of acknowledgement as his hand slipped from yours.

“Oh, hold on,” you were scooting aside to let him out, readied for the next stop as he cocks his head toward the building, “I’ve got something for you—I’ll drive you home, don’t worry,”

“Harry,” you stress, looking down at his hand that waves you toward him, extending out for you to grab, insistently as his fingers wiggle in wait.

Turns out, he wasn’t totally lying.

That something was accompanied by a seven thousand dollar bottle of Leroz Aux Brulees—you knew that because you had purchased it during his trip to France, the supposed city of love.

“I’m going to murder you,” you tell him as he places the bottle on the counter and keeps the closed case of mystery at his side, “hide your body, flee country—I hate surprises, you know that.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he grins, popping the cork on the bottle and pouring two hefty glasses, eyeing the deep red as it glugged into the glass.

“You know, if you wanted company you could have just asked,” you tell him, “I get it, you’re lonely,”

He knows you’re only teasing but it stings nonetheless, both of you taking a long and heavy sip as his fingers swirl over the velvet casing before he’s pushing it over quickly, tapping it with his fingers, “Open it,” he encourages, eyeing you over the rim.

You place your glass down and pry it open slowly, carefully, like you were deconstructing a bomb, but as the piece inside comes into view you find yourself at a loss for words or thoughts.

Your eyes are wide, staring up at him with parted lips that tingled from the lingering alcohol, knowing you should have cut yourself off at one glass of champagne and refused to come inside, that you should have just went home and enjoyed what little bit of the day you had left to yourself.

Now, you were looking back at a necklace so delicate you were afraid to stare at it too long, embedded with a cluster of diamonds and nearly two years of your rent if you were doing the math correctly in your mind.

Always about the numbers, Harry constantly teased.

“I saw how you looked at it the other day,” he admits, “and I owe you a hell of a lot more, but it…I’m trying to say thank you for…being you,”

“I’m not taking that,” you refuse with a laugh of disbelief, sliding back over to him gently, downing the rest of your wine in one go to forget how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“You are,” Harry insists, “consider it a bonus—Christmas is in a couple months, too.”

“You know…this is exactly that kind of stuff a sugar da—”

Harry makes a noise, shaking his head.

You bite your lip in thought, ignoring his subtle annoyance at your comment.

It was fucking beautiful, really.

You sigh, using one finger to turn the case back toward you, examining it closely.

Quietly, Harry presses his glass into the counter and rounds the edge toward you, his chest at your shoulder as he reaches for the jewelry, working carefully at the clasp before he’s motioning for you to relax your shoulders.

It wasn’t the stillness of the moment, but his touch, again.

He’s methodical in the way he touches you, dragging his hand around your neck as he fits the necklace into place, his fingertips pressing against the column of your throat in a way that tickles slightly, shifting uncomfortably until you hear the faint click and he breathes behind you, hands resting at your shoulders.

You’re not sure why he hasn’t moved, but you find yourself turning to speak.

“I’m just going to call an uber,” you tell him, “probably shouldn’t drive since we’ve both been drinking,”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but it sounds hollow, his eyes not following you as you move.

You hop from the chair and bend down to grab your shoes, but his hand is curling around your bicep and pulling you up and he’s staring again, the charge of his touch sending a jolt through your body as freeze,

“Come here,” he beckons, too natural.

And you listen.

He’s soft, every part of him. Skin, clothes, hair, lips.

He’s kissing you gently, like you might break, but you can tell he wants more.

Needs more.

“Are you going to regret this tomorrow?” you find yourself asking as he parts from you, licking at his lips as you both take a breath, letting the moment settle.

He shakes his head, “Are you?”

“Maybe,” you answer honestly, “maybe…not—fuck, I don’t know,”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he promises, but you knew that was a lie.

Still, you nod in understanding.

–

He’s so tender with his touch, slipping you out of the dress in the dim light of his room.

Even softer as he guides you to your back and spreads himself on his belly between your legs, fingers interlocked with his at your hips as he buries his nose between your folds, his tongue splitting your cunt open in a sharp gasp that has you throwing your head back. His lips traced a slow, deliberate path down your body, igniting sparks along every inch of your skin. 

He kissed along the curve of your thighs, teasing, tasting, until the tension was unbearable and with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, it pulled you deeper into a haze of heady desire. 

This was reckless, dangerous, but neither of you found the moment to pause and think.

You wonder if things had been building to this for a while—if it was always supposed to happen this way or if he was acting off of greed; lust and companionship, even if just for a night.

You know you can ask him to stop at any point and he would, but even as his tongue brings you to your first orgasm of the night and he’s guiding you to your stomach, reaching blindly into his bedside table for a foil wrapping the crinkles loudly in the silence, you want this.

It was embarrassing how badly you wanted this.

He fucks you slow, too. 

It was torturous, his chest flat against your back as he palms his cock and feeds it into you.

You don’t talk, neither does he.

But, his low moans and stuttering breaths speak for him.

If you could see him, you’d know how furrowed his brow would be, a hand sliding over the curve of your ass until he can reach your thigh, beckoning for you to raise it without speaking.

You oblige, the angle of his thrusts changing on a dime.

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” he admits like he’s confessing a sin.

“Please,” you plead—please stop talking, please keep going, please fuck me.

You couldn’t decide.

You feel him nod where his forehead is pressed between your shoulder blades as his fist curls into the sheet beside your head.

“Another, gimme another,” he pleads, the fingers on his other hand curling under your neck to life your chin, not expecting to meet his eyes as he leans over you.

The expression on his face so raw it makes you flutter around him, his lips parting in a deep, guttural groan, “I know you can,” he nods hurriedly.

And damn, does the praise work.

Your whimper breaks him, breathing out shakily as you locked eyes when he comes, slow and forceful thrusts until you’re nothing but an exhausted pile of tangled limbs.

“Greedy girl,” he comments through the haze, a weak giggle bubbling from your chest.

He pulls out slowly, a low grunt as he does so.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but you wake to a startling amount of weight over your stomach, an arm splayed possessively, the faint outline of a ring as you drag your hand over the limb.

It’s only as your eyes pry open that reality hits you, stumbling out of bed quickly.

No…nononono, where the fuck were your clothes? Jesus.

You stumble around half awake, searching for the silk dress on the floor, feeling accomplished when you find it and hastily redressing yourself as Harry stirs in bed, encouraging you to hurry, to slip out before he can say anything.

Your shoes are already on and you’re reaching for the doorknob when the voice comes, the weight of the necklace that still remained on your neck, two empty glasses of wine on the counter, a night of hasty choices and urgency laid out like a crime scene as his voice rings out from behind you, pleading.

“Don’t—don’t go,” Harry begs, “You don’t have to go,”

So much of this was wrong—it complicated everything.

Your life, your job, your relationship with him.

He can see you slipping, fingers inching toward the knob as he approaches you in a hurry, barefoot and shirtless, the kind of scene you shouldn’t be comforted with, like this was all normal to the both of you.

You’ve seen him like this a thousand times, but not when he’s looking at you so vulnerable, heart tore open and stapled to his chest, beating against your own as his hands splayed out over your cheeks.

“I don’t regret it,” he assures you again, “so please—stay, okay?”

“What changed?” you ask, voice trembling, “Five years, Harry. Five.”

“I’ve been running in circles this entire time,” he admits, “you know it—I know it.”

You had been there the entire time, learning every part of him without judgement, cataloging his flaws and skills, learning how he ticked and what motivated him. You had never quite settled on the ideal person to fit in his life as his partner, it surely wasn’t you.

It couldn’t be you.

“Please, don’t go,” Harry echoed once more.

The sick, cruel joke of it all was that this was your job. 

You had nowhere to go. If it was any other morning, you would just be arriving, leaving his breakfast in the kitchen and starting your day.

You nod solemnly, “Of course, Mr. Castillo.”

It was painstaking, forcing the mask back on.

But, you couldn’t deal with this now.

Or ever, even.

Harry looks at you with a confused sadness, thumbs rubbing at your cheekbones before his hands fall to his side.

You’d figure this out, you always did.

[inthelibrarybtw]

you want me to pretend | six

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, college au, smau/irl, cursing, inaccurate basketball talk

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count:

authors note: oops! anyways I won't be posting until saturday or sunday, I love this fic as much as you but I need to lock in for college. taglist is still open so let me know.

05 | 06 | 07

Today

Economics hadn’t been your favorite class during high school, but college had given you a new perspective. More like, you actually understood it this time, so you enjoyed it. This class was one of the others you shared with Rafe. He was the only one there you could consider a friend, so when the professor paired everyone up and he called out his name and yours together, it was a relief. You knew how to work with him, and he knew how to work with you.

“I think the universe is forcing us together,” he joked, sitting next to you.  

“Oh, so you believe in the forces of the universe now?” you replied with a soft smile.  

“I think there is a bigger power that is pushing us together. This is the second presentation slash project we have to do together, and it’s the third class we share.”  

“It’s just coincidence.”  

“Is it now?” he smirked.  

“Let’s just decide what we are going to do with this, and we can work through it during the week.”  

“Whatever you say.”  

“Thursday, let’s get together. Now that you’ve been to my house, we can work there.”  

“Is this just an excuse to get me to play your boyfriend again?” he smirked. “Because if you want that, just say so.”  

“Oh, screw you! Not everything is about that,” you rolled your eyes. “I prefer working at my house, but if you don’t want to, let’s do it somewhere else.”  

“I never said I didn’t want to,” he chuckled. “I’ll be there at five?”  

“Yeah, okay.”  

After that, class was over, and you said goodbye to each other. You made your way to your car to drive back home while Rafe walked toward the basketball court.  

“Oh, captain, my captain,” JJ teased, and the rest joined in.  

“You need to stop doing that shit.”  

“And not piss you off? That’s not happening.”  

He was about to leave for the dressing room, but the coach called them.  

“We have a home game on Thursday, so tomorrow you need to clear your schedules. I’ll write a letter for you guys to send to your professors. Tomorrow is full basketball; I don’t accept no’s. So no practice today, and you guys have the afternoon to prepare.”  

A part of him was relieved he didn’t have to practice today, but he knew he had to cancel on you. That wasn’t going to work, so he grabbed his things and left the gym, headed straight to his car, and texted you.

At 2:40 PM, he arrived at your house. You didn't even have time to protest because he was already on his way when he texted you. You welcomed him into your home with Coco, the dog you were dog-sitting that week. Your neighbors had gone on a work trip, and they knew you loved dogs and that Coco loved you, so she was at your house.

Coco was a friendly dog, and the moment Rafe set foot in your home, she threw herself at him. You knew Rafe liked dogs, but you had never seen him with one. You noticed how he smiled and sat on the floor with Coco. She didn’t waste a second and lay down between his legs.

You both settled to work in your living room, sitting on the floor because, according to him, if not, Coco would feel too alone. You didn’t debate him on that because you didn’t care where you were as long as you got things done. While starting to work on the presentation, you both were on your phones texting people until finally, you both put them down. You continued chatting about what to do, and then silence fell. You hated working in silence.

“I will play some music,” you said.  

“Yeah, go ahead.”  

“Just a heads up, there’s probably going to be a lot of Taylor Swift,” you smiled.  

“I figured as much,” he chuckled.

You hummed along with some of the songs or silently sang them. Rafe didn’t mention it. You were so focused, and he was trying his best to accomplish what he needed to do. He was struggling to concentrate, but your soft hums and quiet singing were making it impossible. Don’t get him wrong; it’s not that he found it annoying; it was actually the opposite. He was enjoying it a lot more than he would ever admit to himself.

After a while, both your phones pinged at the same time; it was the BeReal notification. You just looked at him, and he nodded, silently communicating that he was okay with showing up in yours. You both took it and then continued working on the presentation, now talking a bit more about anything that came to mind at that moment.

You lost track of time, and the door opening along with your mom’s voice asking you a question brought you back to the moment. It was five o’clock.  

“Honey, whose car is that?” she said, walking in, and the answer to her question had Coco on his lap. “Oh! Rafe, hi! I didn’t know you were coming today.”  

“Hello, Mrs.—”  

“Don’t Mrs. me; call me Laura,” she smiled at Rafe. “Looks like Coco likes you… Anyway, honey, I brought you the ingredients to try that new cookie recipe.”  

“Oh, thanks, Mom,” I smiled at her, helping her with the items and bringing them to the kitchen. 

You didn’t hear, but Rafe had walked right behind you. While your mom was putting some things in the fridge and you were taking out the ingredients, he hugged you from behind. You tensed up a bit at the sudden motion but then relaxed.  

“Are you baking something now?” he asked, his face right next to your ear. You hated the effect he was having on you.  

“Maybe; do you want to help?”  

“Yes, I would very much like to,” he kissed your temple and took a step back. You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking back to sophomore year; if this had happened back then, you would’ve died.  

“You two are so cute,” your mom said before leaving the kitchen.  

You took a deep breath and started preparing all the things you needed.  

“I think you deserve to play music now,” you said to Rafe, and he chuckled.  

“I’m honored.”  

The cookie-baking session had gone well. You had laughed a lot, and having Rafe in your house didn’t feel weird anymore, even though it hadn’t been that long since he first set foot in. You knew he had taken a picture of you, so you made a mental note to ask for it later.  

You were cleaning up the kitchen when "Carnival" by Kanye started playing.  

“Rafe, can I change the song?”  

“Yes, princess; my phone is on the counter,” he said from the living room, where he was picking up his stuff.

You could swear your heart stopped after seeing that notification. Was he dating someone? Why had he said yes then? Was this considered cheating? Did she know? You changed the song and set the phone back on the counter. 

The sound of your dad’s voice mixed with Rafe’s brought you back to reality. Rafe walked back into the kitchen, continuing his conversation with your dad. Your head was elsewhere, and he seemed to notice your expression. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’m just tired.” You tried to sound convincing; he wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to push your boundaries. 

“Okay,” he said, kissing your cheek a few times before returning to talk to your dad. You grabbed your phone, opening the chat with the only person you could talk to at that moment.

He stayed for another forty minutes. You were hardly there anymore; you were aware you needed to keep up the act since your parents were around, but the anxiety just grew more as the minutes kept passing by. You took a deep breath and decided you would deal with this later because again, you didn’t even know how to start the conversation. 

Before he left, you packed some cookies for him to take back to his house. You walked him out of your house, and after that, you went to your room. On the bright side, the presentation was done for next week. You played the same song over and over again until you decided to grab a book to think about something else.

taglist: @zyafics @maybankslover @niaunoffical @marleymarleymarleymarley @rafesbabygirlx @akobx @papercranesandinkstains @drewstarkeyspecs @winterivory @my-name-is-baby @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewrry @ursogorgeous13 @pr3tty-pink @lmaowhatt @reeseswirl @xoxosblogsblog @lili-swagalicious @ayy1234567 @rihannamars @congratsloserr @moonywhisp3rs @iamheretoread1234 @rafesdrew @bee-43 @pogueprincesa @cokewithcameron @landososcar @drewstarkeyslover @wintersoldierslover @rafecqmeronslove @defnotayonna @wintercrows @letstryagaintomorrow @rafestoothbrush if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :) follow and turn on notifications on @inthelibrarybtw-notifs to get updates on everything I write

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INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.

[22ayla21]

Okay so I’ve just binge read all your stories about the amphoreus men and I’m absolutely enamored. You’re writing style is so captivating! Anyways I had a request. So basically Anaxagoras’s daughters are smart, so how does their mom get them to do things they don’t like, like chores. I feel like the daughters would try to logically argue their way out of it. How does their mom deal with? Does she hit them with "parents know best" argument or just give up on trying to argue with a child on the benefits of having a consistent sleep schedule and have Anaxagoras deal with it?

The Talent of Persuasion

How a mother convinces her daughters to do what they don't like.

Anaxagoras' daughters are smart, but their mother is not a simple one either. If they try to logically weasel out of it, she simply uses their own method against them.

"If you don't clean your room now, it will take you twice as long later. Isn't that inefficient?"

"You don't want your smart brain to suffer from lack of sleep, do you?"

They don't even notice how they find themselves trapped in their own arguments.

"Such smart and disciplined girls, and who refuses responsibility? Isn't that childish behavior?" It's a blow to their pride. They can't afford to be "not mature enough" and do the work.

"If you clean, we can do what you like later." It's not a bribe, but a mutually beneficial contract, as she likes to say.

If the daughters are really stubborn, the mother simply shrugs and calmly says: "Okay. Then explain it to your father." Usually at this stage they immediately agree, because they know that Anaxa will not persuade them. He will simply give the order.

Sometimes she is even more cunning: “Look, even your younger brother helps, and you don’t? It’s somehow unfair...” The girls cannot allow the younger one to bypass them in responsibility.

She does not say, “You have to clean your room.” She says, “Do you want to clean now or after lunch?” In the end, they still do what needs to be done, but they feel that they have made the decision themselves.

She never gets angry or pressures. She just watches silently, letting her daughters figure it out for themselves. It is terribly annoying, and to end it faster, they agree.

Everyone knows that Anaxa is a strict father. But the mother is the one who is really in control of the situation. Her methods are gentle, but effective.

“You know that the ability to do everything yourself is the key to independence?”

“Do you want to know how to easily cope with this? I will show you a secret.”

This way they learn without pressure. Sometimes the daughters try to protest, but in the end they always do what she asks. They may be smart, but she is smarter.

[emmiesoverthemoon]

stupid bet

Pairing: g-dragon/ kwon jiyong x reader

Word Count: 2,326

Summary: A playful drunken challenge turns into a game of seduction, but as Jiyong steadily dismantles your defenses, you realizes they lost long before you even knew you were playing.

Tags: teasing, tension, flirting, all that jam, stubborn reader

cross posted on ao3 here

Your office is quiet.

The kind of quiet that only comes when the day has stretched too long, when even the air feels heavy with exhaustion. Most of the staff have long since packed up and left, the faint click of doors and elevator chimes fading into the background hours ago.

But you’re still here.

Your desk is a mess of contracts, schedule printouts, and a half-empty coffee cup that’s long since gone cold. The white-blue glow of your laptop screen flickers across your face as you skim through another email, fingers moving swiftly over the keys.

“You work too much.”

You don’t even look up.

“And you don’t work enough,” you shoot back, scanning the last few lines of text before hitting send.

A soft thunk—the sound of something being placed on your desk. You glance over to find a takeaway cup, still steaming. The scent of something warm and sweet curls into the air—not coffee; hot chocolate.

Your eyes flick up.

Jiyong leans against the edge of your desk, hands in his pockets, watching you with that infuriating, ever-present smirk. His dark eyes glint with amusement, but beneath it, something quieter.

He gasps, feigning offence. “I work very hard at pretending I don’t work at all.”

You sigh, rubbing at your temples. “You have a radio interview tomorrow morning, a magazine shoot in the afternoon, and a late-night talk show to close out the day. So forgive me if I don’t have time to listen to you whine about my work ethic.”

“And yet,” he drawls, “you’re the one still in this office at—” he flips his wrist over to check his watch, “—almost ten o’clock at night.”

You don’t answer. Because, well. He’s right.

But that doesn’t mean you have time to dwell on it.

You reach for another document, flipping through the pages. “If you came in here just to be annoying, congratulations. Mission accomplished. Now go home.”

“Actually,” he says, “I came in here to drag you out of this office before you wither away under overly fluorescent lighting.”

You glance at him again, wary. “No, thanks.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Jiyong.”

“Sweetheart.” The teasing lilt in his voice makes your fingers tighten around your pen.

You exhale slowly. “I have a hundred things to do before the end of the week. If you want to go out, I can have someone else arrange it for you.”

“Nope.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, gaze still being held strong to your eyes, “because I’m not asking anyone else. I’m asking you.”

The shift is subtle.

His voice, still teasing but softer now. The way he leans in just slightly, like he’s pulling you into some invisible gravity.

“Come out with me,” he insists, quieter this time. “Just for an hour. Two, if I can convince you to stay.”

“You can’t.”

“I bet I can.”

Your jaw tightens. “I have deadlines, Jiyong. I have three back-to-back meetings tomorrow and—”

“And you’re still going to have all of that whether you take a break or not.” His gaze flickers over you, assessing your overworked state. “But you’re running on fumes. If you don’t stop now, you’re going to crash, and then where will I be?”

“This isn’t about you.”

“Everything is about me,” he says smoothly.

You huff, shaking your head. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you put up with me.”

You should say no. You should send him on his way, return to your work, and ignore the way he’s looking at you like he already knows he’s won.

But—It’s late.Your head is starting to ache. And, fine, maybe you’re running on fumes. And, fine, maybe you like that there’s something dangerous in the way he’s waiting for your answer, like this is more than just an invitation. Like this is a challenge.

You exhale sharply, snapping your laptop shut and rising from your chair. “One drink.”

His smirk widens.

“We’ll see.”

It started as a joke.

The kind of reckless challenge tossed carelessly across the table, carried by the haze of warm lights and the slow, liquid burn of another late night. The kind of thing you say when the air is thick with laughter and bravado, when the lines between daring and dangerous blur into something you don’t bother to examine too closely.

The bar hums around you, a low murmur of voices and clinking glasses. Outside, the night is deep and endless, pressing against the windows, but here, it’s all golden glow and too much familiarity. The heat of lingering conversations. The comfortable, slow-burning drowsiness that comes from just enough wine to be bold, but not enough to be reckless.

Well.

Maybe just enough to be reckless.

Because you say it without thinking—without considering that the weight of your words might shift something in the air, might tilt the balance in a way you won’t be able to take back.

“I think—I bet you couldn’t make me fall for you even if you tried.”

Your voice is flippant, dismissive, the way it always is when you’re baiting him. You tip your glass back, letting the liquid swirl against the side as you lift it to your lips, not really watching him—except, of course, you are.

Across from you, Jiyong stills. The change in his body language is slight. Barely perceptible. But you notice.

The way his fingers tighten around his glass, the faintest shift in his expression—there, then gone. His dark eyes flick to yours, and for a split second, something sharp flickers behind them.

Not amusement. Something else.

Your stomach performs an unfamiliar lurch. You expect him to scoff, to roll his eyes, to brush it off the way you do—like it’s nothing, like it’s all just another round in the unspoken game the two of you continue to play.

But instead—

Jiyong leans back against the booth, one arm draping over the backrest. Slowly.

His movements are deliberate, measured, but the ease is deceptive—because it’s not relaxed, not really. It’s something else entirely.

His head tilts slightly as he considers you, the hint of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. But it isn’t his usual cocky grin. It’s different.

It’s like he’s just seen something in you that you weren’t aware of exposing.

“Oh yeah?” His voice is low, rich, carrying just the faintest rasp, and God help you—it shivers down your spine before you can stop it.

You smirk. You don’t let yourself waver. “Yeah. You couldn’t even if you were to dream of it.”

The second the words settle between you, something shifts. The warmth of the room suddenly feels stifling, it isn’t coming from only the wine anymore—this is palpable. The space between you—across the small wooden table, across the dim bar lights—narrows without either of you moving.

Because Jiyong isn’t laughing. Not in the way you expected. His smirk deepens—not playful, not teasing, but slow and deliberate.

Knowing. Like he’s already decided something. Like you just handed him the exact opening he’s been waiting for.

Your pulse trips. The smart thing—the safe thing—would be to laugh, to roll your eyes, to shrug it off and move on.

But you don’t.

Because you are watching him now.

The way the candlelight flickers over the sharp lines of his jaw. The way his fingers drum lightly against his glass, controlled and unhurried. The way his eyes flicker—first to your lips, then back to your eyes, like he’s weighing his options.

And then, slowly, carefully, he leans forward.

Not much, just enough to make the air between you thin.

Just enough that you feel it, the heat of him, the pull of something you shouldn’t name.

“Alright then.” The words are dangerous in their quiet simplicity. His voice drops—low and smooth, brushing against your skin like velvet and steel.

“Let’s play.”

And just like that—the game began.

At first, it was harmless.

Or at least, it pretended to be.

Jiyong flirted with you as easy as breathing, it was second nature to him. He smirked at you in a crowded room, murmuring half-teasing, half-infuriating comments just to get a reaction out of you. He leans in too close when he doesn’t need to, his breath brushing the shell of your ear, voice smooth as silk.

“Careful, baby. You look like you’re thinking about me too much.”

You scoff. You roll your eyes. You pretend it doesn’t affect you.

But then—he starts getting clever. He learns your tells.

He found excuses to touch—small, innocuous touches that linger longer than they should. A hand at the small of your back as he moves past. Fingers curling around your wrist for a second too long when he hands you a drink. A fleeting touch against your waist when he steadies you, his grip warm and certain.

And worst of all—he made you notice.

He watched.

Not obviously, not outright, but intently. His gaze lingered when he thinks you aren’t looking, dark and unreadable. He met your eyes across the room and held them, unblinking, like he was waiting for you to admit something first.

It was unbearable. It was working.

You tried to fight back.

You threw every sharp word, every pointed glare, every biting remark his way. But you never intended harm, and Jiyong was highly aware.

“You really think you’re winning, don’t you?” you proclaimed one afternoon, arms crossed, chin lifted in defiance.

Jiyong grinned, lazy and unbothered, shifting just slightly with the purpose to invade your space.

“I don’t think, doll.” He dipped his head just slightly, voice dropping to a murmur, breath warm against your skin. “I know.”

Your stomach tightened. You shoved at his chest—more forcefully than necessary, your hands pressing warm sparks across his body. He allowed you, laughing, but he’s still watching, still waiting.

You strode away from him. It should have ended there.

It didn’t.

Because now, it was everywhere.

It was the way he looked at you when you were laughing at something else, something completely unrelated, like you were the most fascinating thing in the room.

It was the way his hand lingers at your lower back in a crowded space, casual to anyone watching, but to you—it was anything but.

It was the way he murmurs your name, low and quiet, like a secret slipping through his lips.

And then—then, there was the night you pretty much lost entirely.

The two of you were alone in your office long after the working day had ended, moonlight streaming in through your thin blinds, creating low mood lighting to add to the overwhelming tension in the air. The night hummed with an undercurrent—a weight in the air that neither of you had the courage to name.

You stood in front of your desk, leaning against the edge, your arms crossed against your chest. Jiyong was situated across from you, hands in his pockets, his usual confidence tempered with something quieter. Something heavier.

You should have done something. You should have ended this. You disliked that you were losing this stupid game, giving in was unlike you.

But you said nothing.

Because he was watching you again, like he already knew the answer to a question you had yet to ask. Like he was waiting.

“Tell me something, sweetheart.” His voice is soft now, coaxing. He took a step closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that you can feel the heat of him. “Do you ever think about giving in to me?”

Your breath caught. A part of you wanted to laugh, to scoff, to throw back something sharp and biting. To pretend you were still in control of yourself. Like you were no more than putty in his hands the moment he looked at you the way he did in that bar the night this all had begun.

But you remained silent. Because there was nowhere to run now.

His hand lifted—not touching, but close enough. Hovering near your jaw, close enough that you can feel the warmth of it, the promise.

“Say the word,” he murmured, confident radiating from every syllable. “And this will all stop, I’ll leave you alone. Promise.”

You should have said it. You should have won.

But the space between you was suffocating, and your pulse was hammering too loudly, drowning out any voices of logic, and so you didn't say anything at all.

Because you didn’t want him to stop. And he knew it.

His smirk was gone. His usual playfulness—gone. He waited—because this was the moment, the moment when the game stops being a game.

The moment when you lose.

Your breath was uneven, words challenging him didn't spill from you. And that’s when it happened.

His fingers ghosted along your jaw—soft, reverent, as if testing, as if waiting for you to pull away. But you did no such thing. The action would betray you.

His face was warm, dusted with pink when he leant in closer, when his lips hovered just a breath away from yours. He was so close, you could close the distance yourself, you could finally—

A creak echoed from somewhere in the hallway outside your door. A sharp reminder of reality. You both froze, hearts beating loudly in sync.

Jiyong’s hands were motionless against your skin. His eyes flickered, dark and unreadable, his breath still mingling with yours.

And then—he pulled away from you. Slowly. Deliberately.

Leaving you standing there, heart pounding, breathless.

His smirk was back when he spoke again, but it was softer now, edged with something you can’t quite place.

“Told you this wasn’t a game, sweetheart.”

And then—he walked away.

Leaving you behind with your pulse roaring in your ears.

Leaving you behind to realize—You lost this game a long time ago, before it had even begun.

thank you for reading! might make this a two parter idk, what do you guys think🤷‍♀️

[girlsz1]

Just The Two of Us… You and I…

Summary: After Carter bought you flowers and and asked you out for dinner, Zayne doesn’t like that and feel a bit jealous

Authors Note: yooo I was playing lads and this scene where Carter asks the mc out for dinner and said he was the one that left flowers on her desk, AND THEN ZAYNE POPPED OUT. AND OOOOOO WHEN ZAYNE AND MC WERE IN THE CAR ZAYNE SAID HE ‘he fact that he gave you roses is enough to put me on high alert.” AND “But when he told you to be careful while traveling… I doubt that was a simple , friendly reminder.” I BIT MY LIP GURLLL 😩 Like I know zayne definitely felt some fort of jealousy likeee cmonnn

WC: 573

It was weird. Zayne…. was acting weird. Like he was hiding something. But what? That man is mysterious as fuck, but that’s exactly why you like him too. Well, one of the many reasons anyway. And there just one thing that’s bothering you right now. The silence.

The silence was killing you in the car. He hands on the driving wheel as he focuses on the road ahead. Was it because of earlier? Was he… jealous? You cover your mouth, giggling to yourself at the thought of him actually being jealous. For second Zayne shift his gaze over to you before focusing on the road again. “Is.. something funny?” Zayne asks.

You put a index finger on your chin and tap. “Mmmm maaaaybe. I was thinking.. maybe.. you’re.. I don’t know.. a tiiiiiny bit jealous?”

Zayne sighs. “Please.. don’t say such nonsense. Did you get enough rest last night? Do you need a checkup-“

“I’m fine, Dr. Zayne,” You cut Zayne off, waving a finger at him. “ And don’t change the subject! I see right through you, mister.” You squint you eyes at him as you cross your arms. Zayne chuckles. “Okay, you got me. I… was a bit jealous.”

You nod your head. “Yes, but why?”

Zayne wandered a bit in his head. He and Carter worked under the same professor yet went different paths. On top of that, after buys you flowers and then has the audacity to ask you out for dinner? You? With him?? He just couldn’t let that happen. He’d have a heart attack. Gosh.. just the thought of-

“Uhh.. hello? Earth to Zayne?”

Zayne shakes his head a bit. “Sorry, I.. spaced out.” Your eyes widened. “Well good thing you didn’t crash the car. Who else if supposed to check on me if not you?”

Zayne smiles at that. “Right.”

“Anyway, you were gonna state your reason.”

Zayne nods. “Yes. I.. actually wanted to be the one the one to give you flowers. I even planned for us to have dinner and hang out more. I know it seems impossible especially since I’m always busy and I know you hate getting your hopes up, but I managed to clear up my schedule for just the two of us. And I’d hate for another guy like him to take away your attention. Especially since.. I.. like you.”

Your mouth opens slightly. “Zayne…”

Zayne shakes his head. “I know, it’s silly.” “No, it’s not,” You say. “I actually like you too. I really appreciate you making space in you schedule just for me. It means a lot. Thank you, Zayne. For everything.”

The car finally stops at a red light. You take the opportunity to take him by shock and put a hand on the side of his face and hiss his cheek.

Zaynes eyes widened, but quickly regains himself. “Hmm, I think a kiss would do better on the lips, no?”

Zayne then gets closer to you. The distance between your faces getting closer as your lips finally meet. The kiss doesn’t end just yet. Neither of you want to let go, not even for a quick breath. But of course, it ended.

Your lips form into a smile “I really do hope we can spend more time together.”

“Yeah,” Zayne smiles. “Just the two of us.” He says as he grabs your hand and squeezes it gently.

You squeeze his hand back gently. “You and I.”

That damn smirk…

[annalyselee]

Scrutinizing

The first time she met Park Sunghoon, he barely spared her a glance.

Dressed in a tailored suit that probably cost more than her entire year’s salary, he sat behind an expansive mahogany desk, fingers tapping lazily against the polished wood. His expression was unreadable—cold, indifferent, as if her presence was nothing more than an inconvenience.

“You’re late,” he said without looking up.

She blinked. “I wasn’t aware there was a set time.”

His gaze finally lifted, sharp and assessing. “If I call for someone, I expect them immediately. Not when it’s convenient for them.”

Ah. So that’s the kind of person he was.

She’d heard the rumors, of course. The heir to the Park empire—untouchable, emotionless, impossibly wealthy. His words cut sharper than a blade, his patience thinner than ice. He had no time for pleasantries, no interest in making friends. He ruled his world with calculated precision, and he didn’t tolerate anything less than perfection.

She squared her shoulders, refusing to shrink under his scrutiny. “Next time, maybe give advance notice instead of assuming people are just waiting around for you.”

A flicker of something—surprise?—crossed his face before it disappeared behind that frosty mask. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, I get it. You’re rich, busy, and apparently allergic to basic manners. But some of us have our own schedules too, you know.”

The room fell silent.

The tension was so thick she could practically see it stretching between them. Any sane person would’ve backed down, maybe apologized. But she stood her ground, meeting his piercing gaze with unwavering resolve.

And then, to her complete shock, the corner of his lips twitched.

It wasn’t a smile—far from it—but the ghost of amusement flickered in his eyes before he leaned back in his chair, regarding her with newfound interest.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “You’re either brave or incredibly foolish.”

She crossed her arms. “Maybe a little of both.”

Sunghoon studied her for a long moment before exhaling through his nose, as if she were something he couldn’t quite figure out. Finally, he turned his attention back to the documents on his desk. “Fine. Since you’re here, get to work.”

And just like that, she became part of his world.

The days that followed only proved what she already knew—Park Sunghoon was cold, ruthless, and impossibly difficult. He expected efficiency, hated small talk, and dismissed most people with a single glance.

But not her.

He didn’t treat her kindly, not in the traditional sense. But he listened when she spoke. He challenged her opinions, forced her to think faster, be sharper. And unlike everyone else who tiptoed around him, she pushed back.

What was even stranger? He let her.

“Why are you always like this?” she asked one evening, watching as he dismissed another employee with a wave of his hand.

“Like what?”

“Cold. Rude. Distant.”

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, as if considering her words. Then he smirked. “You make it sound like a flaw.”

She scoffed. “Because it is.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make her stomach twist. “And yet, you’re still here.”

She hated how that made her pause. Because he was right. She should’ve walked away by now. Any reasonable person would have.

But she wasn’t reasonable when it came to him. And that was the most dangerous part of all.

One night, after a particularly long meeting, she found herself alone with him in the office. The city lights sprawled out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the room in a soft, golden glow. She was gathering her things when Sunghoon spoke, his voice quieter than usual.

“Do you hate working for me?”

She looked up, caught off guard by the question. “Why would you ask that?”

His fingers drummed against the desk, his gaze focused on the skyline. “You don’t act like the others. You don’t try to please me.”

She let out a small laugh. “Maybe because you’re impossible to please.”

His lips twitched again—an almost-smile. “So you do hate it.”

She hesitated before answering. “I don’t hate it. But I don’t like feeling like I have to walk on eggshells around you.”

His expression shifted, something unreadable passing through his eyes. For a moment, she thought he might say something real, something vulnerable. But then the mask slipped back into place, and he leaned back in his chair with a lazy smirk.

“Good,” he said. “Because I don’t need people who walk on eggshells.”

She rolled her eyes, but the conversation lingered in her mind long after she left the office that night.

It wasn’t until she saw him outside of work that she realized just how different he was with her.

At an upscale charity event, Sunghoon stood in the middle of a crowd, effortlessly charming yet distant, his expression carefully controlled as he exchanged pleasantries with important figures. People laughed at his half-hearted jokes, trying to win his favor, but his eyes were cold, uninterested.

Then, he saw her.

His entire demeanor changed.

His gaze softened—just slightly. His posture relaxed. And when she approached, instead of offering the same impersonal smirk he gave everyone else, he leaned in, his voice lower, more familiar.

“You look different,” he murmured, scanning her from head to toe. “In a good way.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Was that a compliment, Mr. Park?”

He hummed, tilting his head. “Don’t get used to it.”

And yet, for the rest of the night, she caught him glancing at her more times than she could count.

Something was changing between them.

She just wasn’t sure what it meant.

@neomujinjja

[bernthirst-events]

Hello Bernthirsters!

How have you been? Have you been running around like crazy after seeing Frank again? Cause we sure have. That scene was absolutely amazing! We know that like us, you've all missed Frank so much, and just like last time, his introduction back into the show blew us all away. That man sure knows how to make an entrance. That's why Frank's reappearance is the perfect opportunity for us to let you know that we're planning a new event for June.

During the previous event, we honored Jon's TV show characters, so this time, we are going to do the same thing but with his movie characters. Between The Accountant 2 and The Amateur coming out this year, we're sure that we'll have brand-new material to work with. But we also hope that you'll show some love to the characters that aren't talked about often enough. For the TV show event, we went for one character per day, but this time we're doing a bit more of a theme event, since there are more characters than week days.

Schedule: June 2 – June 8

Monday: Underrated

Tuesday: Iconic

Wednesday: Second Chance

Thursday: Sexiest

Friday: Best look/transformation

Saturday: Sweetest

Sunday: Favorites

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[pinkmoontaco]

can you do one about idol jeonghan x idol reader that gets into a dating scandal but ends up actually dating? pretty pleaseee i love u work btw

Caught in the Spotlight || Yoon Jeonghan

Pairing: Idol Jeonghan x Idol reader Summary: When a dating scandal erupts, Y/N’s career is put at risk, forcing her to face public backlash and betrayal. Amid the chaos, Jeonghan stands by her side, determined to protect her no matter the cost. As they navigate fame, heartbreak, and tough choices, they discover that love — even in the harshest spotlight — can shine the brightest. Genre: Drama, Romance, Fluff

Authors note: Hey everyone, 😊!! I'm back with a story that was requested by one of you! First off, I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the love and support you’ve shown. Your sweet comments, reblogs, and kind words truly inspire me to keep writing, so please keep them coming and please don't forget to follow for more stories like this!! Love you guys ❤️ And also feel free to make any request for any other members or other group M.list

The night air was crisp, the streets dimly lit by flickering streetlights as Jeonghan stepped out of the upscale restaurant. His fingers tugged his mask higher over his face, hoping to slip away unnoticed. The dinner had been a quiet one — a casual gathering with a few industry friends — nothing to raise eyebrows.

But luck clearly wasn’t on his side tonight.

"Jeonghan-ssi?"

He turned at the familiar voice. Standing just a few feet away was you, still adjusting the strap of your bag. Dressed down in a hoodie and jeans, you looked far from the glamorous idol the public was used to seeing.

“Oh… hey,” Jeonghan said, surprised.

You offered a polite smile — the kind idols mastered after years in the spotlight — and gave a small nod. “Didn’t know you were here too.”

“Yeah… just dinner with a few friends,” he explained, pointing over his shoulder.

There was an awkward pause. You weren’t exactly strangers — award shows, backstage run-ins, and overlapping schedules had put you in the same circles before — but you were hardly close.

“Well… have a good night,” you said, turning to leave.

But just then —

Flash! Flash! Flash!

The blinding burst of camera flashes lit up the street like fireworks. Shouts filled the air as a group of paparazzi rounded the corner, cameras firing wildly.

“Jeonghan-ssi! Is this your girlfriend?”

“Are you two dating?”

“Y/N! Did you spend the night together?”

“What the—” Jeonghan barely had time to react before you instinctively grabbed his arm.

“Let’s go!” you hissed, pulling him down the street. The two of you weaved through the crowd, the sound of hurried footsteps and shouting reporters echoing behind you.

“Here!” Jeonghan yanked you into a side alley, pressing his back against the wall as you both caught your breath. Your fingers were still gripping his sleeve tightly.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

“I think so,” you panted, dropping his arm like it burned. “But that… that looked really bad.”

Jeonghan ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah… really bad.”

The next morning

[BREAKING] SEVENTEEN’s Jeonghan and Y/N caught in late-night date — ‘Secret Romance Revealed?’ ‘Caught Leaving Together?’ Dating Rumors Explode Online Fans Demand Clarification After Jeonghan and Y/N's Late-Night Sighting

You scrolled through your phone in disbelief. The blurry photos plastered across the screen showed Jeonghan standing too close, your hand gripping his arm as if you were clinging to him for dear life. #Jeonghan_YN_Dating was already trending.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered. Your phone buzzed. Unknown Number.

“Hello?”

“You saw the articles, right?” Jeonghan’s voice came through the line, sounding both frustrated and tired.

“Yeah…” You rubbed your temples. “This is insane.”

“PR wants us to ‘clear things up,’” Jeonghan said. “They’re asking us to… I don’t know, act friendly? Like we’re just close industry friends.”

You sighed. “Great. So now we’re fake besties.”

“Apparently.” Jeonghan’s voice held a bitter chuckle. “We’re meeting tomorrow for a staged café run. Try not to look too miserable, yeah?”

“Only if you promise not to look smug.”

“Me? Smug?” He laughed, and for a moment, the tension lifted.

But as you hung up, reality set back in. This was going to be a disaster.

The café was buzzing with quiet conversations and clinking cups, yet all you could hear was the rapid thudding of your own heartbeat. Jeonghan sat across from you, casually stirring his iced americano as if this wasn’t the most awkward situation imaginable. The small corner table — handpicked by your managers for “privacy” — felt like a stage under the weight of curious stares.

“Smile,” Jeonghan muttered through his teeth, still pretending to focus on his drink.

“I am smiling,” you shot back, lips barely lifting.

“Try harder.”

Rolling your eyes, you plastered on the fakest grin you could manage.

“That’s terrifying,” Jeonghan chuckled, unable to hold back.

You groaned, adjusting your sunglasses for the third time. “Why did they think this would fix anything?”

“Apparently,” Jeonghan said, voice dipped in sarcasm, “if we sit here long enough looking ‘friendly,’ people will believe we’re just pals.” He took a casual sip of his drink, pausing before adding, “You know… instead of lovers escaping a secret date in the dead of night.”

“Please don’t say that out loud,” you muttered, heat rushing to your face.

Unfortunately, Jeonghan’s comment wasn’t far from the truth. The rumors had spiraled overnight — fans digging through old footage, claiming your eyes met too often on music show stages or that Jeonghan’s smile was “different” when you were nearby. Theories ran wild.

“I can’t believe they think I’m dating you,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Jeonghan nearly choked on his drink. “Excuse me?” He placed a dramatic hand over his chest. “Wow. I’m hurt.”

“You’ll survive,” you muttered.

“Unbelievable,” he huffed, shaking his head with a smile that was entirely too smug. “You could’ve at least pretended to be flattered.”

“Flattered?” You snorted. “I’m too busy drowning in hate comments to feel flattered.”

That wiped the grin off his face. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Same.”

For a brief moment, the tension shifted — less awkward, more… real. Jeonghan’s fingers tapped restlessly against his cup, his gaze flickering to the café window where two girls lingered, phones in hand.

“Don’t look now,” he murmured. “But we’ve got an audience.” You instinctively glanced anyway — a terrible decision. The girls' eyes widened as they registered your face, one of them hurriedly whispering to the other.

“Great,” you muttered. “They’re definitely posting that.”

“Guess we better sell this, huh?” Jeonghan grinned — a mischievous one this time — and before you could ask what he meant, he reached across the table and plucked a crumb from the corner of your mouth.

Your heart stopped. “W-What are you doing?” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Helping,” Jeonghan said casually, popping the crumb into his mouth like it was no big deal.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered under your breath, but you knew the girls by the window were practically vibrating in excitement.

“We’re making headlines again, aren’t we?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Jeonghan said, voice full of smug satisfaction.

Later That Night

Your phone buzzed non-stop — articles, tweets, and fan edits were already flooding the internet.

“Jeonghan and Y/N spotted on a cozy café date — new couple in the industry?” “Jeonghan’s sweet gesture has fans melting — ‘Did you see him wipe her mouth?!’” “#Jeonghan_YN_CoupleGoals” trending No. 1 worldwide

You groaned, dropping your phone onto your bed. “This is never going to end…”

A text from Jeonghan popped up seconds later: Jeonghan: We should start charging for this. We’re practically giving K-drama scenes for free. 😎

Despite yourself, you laughed.

Jeonghan: Hey… hope you’re okay. Don’t let the comments get to you.

For the first time since the scandal broke, you felt something ease inside you.

You: Thanks. You too.

It had only been three days since the scandal broke, but it felt like weeks. Your name hadn’t left the headlines since the café outing, and no matter how many statements your agency released, the rumors only seemed to grow. The media twisted every tiny detail — analyzing your outfits, digging up old footage, even speculating that SEVENTEEN’s latest album hinted at Jeonghan’s “secret romance.”

Today was no different.

“Ready?” your manager asked, peeking into the waiting room.

You sighed, adjusting your oversized blazer — something your stylist had picked to make you look “more serious and professional” for the upcoming press event. “As I’ll ever be,” you muttered.

“You’ll be fine,” your manager encouraged, though the tension in her voice betrayed her worry.

But the second you stepped outside, you realized fine wasn’t on today’s agenda.

The reporters swarmed like bees, microphones shoved dangerously close to your face. Flashes blinded you, and voices overlapped into a deafening roar.

“Y/N! Over here!”

“Is it true you’ve been dating Jeonghan for months?”

“Did you meet his family?”

“Is this a PR stunt?”

“Excuse me—” you tried, your voice shaking.

Your breath hitched. The air suddenly felt too thick, your head spinning from the overwhelming noise.

“Y/N, look this way!”

“Are you moving in with him?”

“Hey! Back off!” Suddenly, a hand gripped your wrist — firm but steady — and you felt yourself being pulled away from the chaos.

Jeonghan.

He barely looked back as he guided you through the crowd, one arm instinctively moving behind you as a barrier. He didn’t let go until you were safely tucked inside a black van, the door slamming shut behind you.

“Are you okay?” Jeonghan asked, his voice softer now.

You exhaled shakily, pressing your palms to your temples. “I… yeah. Just... overwhelmed.”

Jeonghan frowned, his usual playful smile nowhere to be seen. “They’re insane out there.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. “They think I’m halfway down the aisle with you.”

That earned a dry chuckle from Jeonghan. “Well, I am a catch.”

You let out a weak laugh despite yourself, grateful for the tension lifting.

But then Jeonghan’s voice turned serious again. “You know… you don’t have to deal with this alone.”

You looked up, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know you’re getting a lot of hate because of me. And I hate that. So if you… if you need space, or if you want me to back off —”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, surprising both of you.

Jeonghan blinked. “What?”

Your fingers fidgeted in your lap. “I just… I’m tired of feeling like I have to deal with this alone. It’s stupid, but… you make it a little easier.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Jeonghan’s gaze softened, and his usual teasing smirk faded into something gentler.

“Well…” He shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours. “I guess that makes two of us.”

The warmth of his presence lingered long after you’d parted ways.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“Hyung… what is this?”

Jeonghan nearly choked on his water as Seungkwan slammed his phone on the table. The screen displayed a photo of Jeonghan guiding you into the van — his hand lingering on your waist a little too comfortably.

“‘Jeonghan’s Protective Boyfriend Era?’” Joshua read aloud, grinning. “Ohh, this is gold.”

“Did you see the comments?” Seungkwan added dramatically. “They’re calling you ‘Jeonghan-oppa’ now.”

“You guys are so annoying,” Jeonghan groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Mingyu leaned over with a wolfish grin. “We’re just getting started.”

The charity event was supposed to be simple — smile, wave, and look composed. But of course, nothing was ever simple when you were standing beside Yoon Jeonghan.

The second you stepped onto the carpet together, the whispers began.

You kept your expression calm, but the tension coiled tight in your chest. Jeonghan, walking just a step ahead, seemed unfazed — effortlessly charming as he greeted photographers.

“Look, it’s them…”

“They’re totally dating.”

“Did you see that café video? He wiped her mouth!”

“Smile,” Jeonghan muttered through his teeth, barely moving his lips.

“I am smiling,” you shot back, your grin strained.

“Then why do you look like you want to set something on fire?”

“Because I do.”

Jeonghan huffed a soft laugh, barely audible over the noise of cameras clicking. To the crowd, it probably looked like the two of you were flirting — as if the fake smiles and forced laughter meant something more.

“Relax,” Jeonghan murmured. “I’ve got you.”

The words — simple as they were — eased something inside you.

Inside the ballroom, the chaos had dulled to murmured conversations and clinking glasses. Your manager had instructed you and Jeonghan to stay close for appearances, which meant you were stuck together for the evening.

“Here,” Jeonghan said, pressing a glass of water into your hand.

“Thanks,” you muttered, barely managing a smile before taking a sip.

He didn’t move away, hovering beside you instead. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied.

But you weren’t. The stares hadn’t stopped, and the whispers felt deafening. Each smile you forced felt like a crack in your armor.

“Come with me,” Jeonghan said quietly.

“What?”

“Just… trust me.”

The air was cool, crisp against your skin as Jeonghan held the door open for you. The hum of the event below faded, replaced by the stillness of the city lights stretching far into the horizon.

“Breathe,” Jeonghan said softly.

You did. The cold air stung your lungs, but at least out here, you could think.

“I know this is a lot,” Jeonghan murmured, leaning against the railing beside you. “I didn’t think it’d get this bad either.”

“I hate it,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you expected. “The rumors, the comments… I feel like I can’t even breathe without people twisting it into something else.”

Jeonghan was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he said, voice softer now. “I get that.”

You turned to him, surprised. “You?”

He huffed a dry laugh. “Trust me, being SEVENTEEN’s ‘angel’ gets exhausting.” He smiled bitterly. “If I’m too nice, people think I’m fake. If I’m too quiet, they say I’m cold. And now…” He gestured vaguely between you two. “Now I’m the guy who’s apparently been sneaking around with a secret girlfriend for months.”

You laughed weakly. “I’d be a terrible secret girlfriend.”

Jeonghan grinned, his usual mischief flickering back. “Yeah… you’d totally blow our cover.”

The joke was light, but the air between you shifted — quieter, heavier.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you admitted. “You never seem to let it get to you.”

“I do,” Jeonghan said quietly. “I just… don’t let people see it.”

There it was — a rare crack in his usual playful mask. And before you could think better of it, your hand reached out, resting lightly over his.

“You don’t have to do that all the time,” you said softly. “You don’t always have to be the one holding everything together.”

Jeonghan’s fingers curled slightly under yours — warm and steady — and you realized with a jolt that you didn’t want to pull away.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

And for a moment, the noise, the rumors, the chaos — none of it mattered. It was just you, Jeonghan, and the quiet comfort of knowing you weren’t alone in this mess.

The comments wouldn’t stop.

Every time you unlocked your phone, they flooded your screen like a raging storm.

"She’s not even pretty. Why would Jeonghan date her?" "She’s using him for attention." "She’s ruining his image."

Your fingers hovered over the screen, scrolling mindlessly through the endless wave of insults. Each comment felt sharper than the last — words that twisted in your chest like knives.

At first, you tried to ignore it. You told yourself it would pass. That people would move on.

But they didn’t.

Instead, your name stayed trending — not for your music, not for your hard work, but because people were convinced you weren’t good enough to stand beside Yoon Jeonghan.

And today… today was worse.

An edited photo of you — your face distorted, mocked, and plastered with cruel captions — had gone viral. The quote beneath it read:

"Proof Jeonghan could do so much better."

Your vision blurred as you locked your phone and set it face-down on your desk. The lump in your throat burned, and no matter how hard you swallowed, it wouldn’t go away.

A shaky breath escaped your lips, and before you knew it — you were crying. Silent, angry tears that spilled faster than you could stop them.

Later That Evening — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan had barely stepped into the living room when he heard the conversation.

“...Did you see what they’re saying about her?” Joshua’s voice was quiet, but laced with concern.

“Yeah,” Mingyu muttered. “It’s brutal.”

“I don’t get it,” Seungkwan huffed. “She’s talented. She’s gorgeous. And she’s one of the nicest idols I’ve met. Why are they—?”

“Because people love tearing others down,” Joshua said grimly.

Jeonghan’s stomach twisted. He didn’t need to hear more. He already knew — the hateful comments, the constant targeting — he’d seen it all.

And you were enduring it alone.

Your Apartment

The knock at your door startled you.

You dragged yourself off the couch, wiping your face as best you could before opening it.

“Jeonghan?”

His eyes flickered over you — the red-rimmed eyes, the dull expression, the exhaustion etched into your face. His teasing smile was gone, replaced by something softer… something that looked dangerously close to concern.

“Can I come in?” he asked quietly.

You stepped aside, too drained to argue.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything right away. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, watching you like he wasn’t sure where to start.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” he finally said.

“I know,” you muttered.

Jeonghan exhaled heavily. “Have you seen what people are saying?”

“I’ve seen plenty,” you said bitterly. “Kind of hard to miss when your face is everywhere.”

“Hey…” His voice softened. “You can’t let them get to you.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snapped, your voice cracking. “They’re not calling you ugly. They’re not saying you’re only famous because of some fake scandal.”

Jeonghan’s gaze sharpened. “That’s not fair.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Isn’t it?”

“I know what people are saying,” Jeonghan said firmly. “But they’re wrong. All of them.”

“Doesn’t really feel that way.” Your voice wavered. “It feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Jeonghan’s expression softened. Without warning, he reached out, his hand curling gently around your wrist.

“You’re more than enough,” he said quietly.

You blinked up at him, startled. “You don’t have to say that just because—”

“I’m not.” His grip tightened — not enough to hurt, but enough to ground you. “I mean it.”

And when your eyes flickered to his, you saw it — the warmth, the sincerity… the way Jeonghan was looking at you like you were someone worth protecting.

Your breath hitched. “I don’t know how to keep pretending this doesn’t hurt,” you whispered.

Jeonghan’s fingers slid from your wrist to your hand, threading between your fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Then don’t,” he murmured. “You don’t have to be okay right now. Just… let me stay?”

Your walls — the ones you’d spent weeks building — finally crumbled. The tears came faster than you could stop them, and before you knew it, Jeonghan’s arms were around you.

“I’m right here,” he whispered against your hair. “I’ve got you.”

And for the first time in weeks, you believed it.

The hateful comments didn’t stop. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

Every new headline dragged you back into the spotlight — "Jeonghan’s Rumored Girlfriend Under Fire Again!" — and your face was splashed across every gossip site. The cruel words felt endless, no matter how much you tried to ignore them.

But there was one unexpected shift.

Jeonghan.

Since that night in your apartment, he hadn’t left your side. Texts every morning asking if you’d eaten. Calls before performances. Quiet glances from across crowded rooms — a silent check-in only you seemed to notice.

You should’ve been grateful. But instead, it was starting to scare you.

Because Jeonghan wasn’t acting anymore.

At the Music Show Recording

“You’ll be okay?” Jeonghan asked quietly.

You nodded, adjusting your mic pack with shaky fingers. “Yeah… I’ll be fine.”

“Hey,” his voice softened. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze flicking toward the backstage monitors. The audience outside was louder than usual, and you already knew why. The crowd was buzzing with signs, banners — some supportive, others cruel.

Jeonghan followed your gaze and sighed. “Unbelievable…”

“I’m used to it,” you muttered.

“Well, I’m not.” His tone sharpened, and before you could stop him, Jeonghan was already moving toward the stage entrance.

“Wait — Jeonghan, what are you doing?” you called after him.

“Fixing this.”

On Stage

It started with a simple interview — routine questions about SEVENTEEN’s comeback. Jeonghan smiled, cracked a few jokes, and kept the mood light.

But when the MC shifted gears, you knew things were about to get messy.

“So, Jeonghan,” the host began, smirking, “I have to ask… how’s your special someone doing?”

Laughter rippled through the audience — some genuine, some mocking. Cameras panned to the crowd, flashing glimpses of posters with your face crossed out.

Your chest tightened.

“Yeah,” the MC chuckled, “I heard her group’s getting a lot of… attention lately.”

The comment stung, disguised as a joke but loaded with malice.

Jeonghan’s smile vanished.

“Actually,” he said, voice firm, “I think her group’s doing amazing. They’ve worked hard, and they deserve the attention they’re getting — positive attention.”

The room went silent.

Jeonghan’s gaze hardened as he continued, “And I think people forget that no matter how famous someone is… they’re still human. They still feel things. So maybe instead of hiding behind keyboards and tearing someone down, people should focus on supporting the artists they claim to love.”

His words lingered in the air — sharp, deliberate, and impossible to ignore.

The host shifted uncomfortably. “Well… that’s very… thoughtful of you, Jeonghan.”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan said dryly, “I’m thoughtful.”

And just like that, he grabbed his mic stand and strolled off the stage.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said the second Jeonghan appeared backstage.

“Yes, I did,” he shot back, his voice unusually tense.

“Jeonghan…”

“I’m serious.” His gaze softened, and he took a step closer. “They’ve been dragging your name for weeks. I couldn’t just stand there.”

“I can handle it,” you whispered, your voice barely steady.

“You shouldn’t have to.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond — unsure how to deal with the way his words made your heart ache in a way that had nothing to do with the hate.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked softly.

Jeonghan’s eyes locked on yours — steady and unwavering.

“Because I care,” he said simply.

Your breath caught. “This is starting to feel… too real.”

“It is real,” Jeonghan murmured, his fingers brushing your hand. His thumb ghosted over your knuckles — soft, lingering, far too gentle to mean nothing.

Before you could stop yourself, your fingers curled against his.

“Jeonghan…”

“I’m not pretending anymore,” he whispered.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure where the lines between fake and real even existed anymore.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I knew it!” Seungkwan’s voice rang through the living room. “He’s gone! Completely whipped!”

“I called it first,” Mingyu shot back.

“You did not!”

Joshua grinned from the couch. “I’m just saying… I’m free on Friday if you guys need help picking out wedding tuxedos.”

Jeonghan groaned, slumping face-first into a pillow.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“Unbelievably cute,” Seungkwan corrected.

From under the pillow, Jeonghan’s muffled voice rang out:

“I’m never leaving this dorm again…”

The headlines spread like wildfire.

"Yoon Jeonghan Defends Rumored Girlfriend — 'She’s More Than Enough!’” "Jeonghan Stuns Fans with Emotional Statement — Is Their Relationship Real After All?" "SEVENTEEN’s Jeonghan Steps In — Fans Divided Over His Bold Move."

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Fans. Reporters. Even people you hadn’t spoken to in years — everyone had something to say about Jeonghan’s outburst.

The pressure twisted in your chest, and no matter how many times you told yourself to breathe, your heart wouldn’t slow down.

“Are you two really dating?”

“Is he only defending you because the scandal’s true?”

“Why is Jeonghan acting so… protective?”

At the Practice Room

“You’re not answering your phone,” Jeonghan said quietly, standing in the doorway.

“I needed some air,” you muttered, hugging your knees to your chest. The practice room was dark except for the faint glow of the city lights outside. It was quiet — the only place that felt safe these days.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You swallowed hard. “I just… I didn’t know what to say.”

Jeonghan sighed, stepping further inside. He crossed the room slowly, like he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to get. “I know things are… messy right now.”

“That’s an understatement.” You let out a humorless laugh. “Half the internet thinks I’m some manipulative, fame-hungry girl who tricked you into falling for her.”

“Yeah?” Jeonghan’s voice sharpened. “Well, the other half thinks I’m some careless jerk playing with your feelings.”

You blinked. “That’s not true.”

“Neither’s what they’re saying about you,” he shot back.

Silence settled between you — thick, uncomfortable, and impossible to ignore.

“You shouldn’t have said all that,” you muttered. “Now everyone’s even more convinced this is real.”

Jeonghan scoffed. “You think I care what they believe?”

“You should!” you snapped. “Your group — your career — you put all of it on the line because of me.”

“Because I care about you!” Jeonghan’s voice rose — louder than you’d ever heard it.

The words seemed to echo in the room, both of you frozen in their aftermath.

“You…” Your voice faltered. “You what?”

Jeonghan let out a shaky breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “I care about you,” he repeated, softer this time. “I know this whole thing started as damage control, but…” His voice broke slightly. “It’s not just that anymore.”

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest. “Jeonghan…”

“I know,” he cut in quickly. “I know this is bad timing, and I know you’re tired, and I know you probably think I’m just —”

“I don’t,” you whispered.

Jeonghan blinked. “You don’t?”

“I don’t think you’re just… anything.” Your fingers toyed anxiously with the hem of your sleeve. “I just don’t understand why. Why now?”

Jeonghan sighed, stepping closer. “Because I’ve been watching you try to hold yourself together for weeks now — pretending it doesn’t hurt when I know it does.” His voice softened, like he was afraid of pushing you too far. “And every time I see you smile like you’re fine when I know you’re not… it makes me crazy.”

He took another step — so close now you could feel his warmth. “I don’t care what people say,” he murmured. “I just… I couldn’t stand watching you go through this alone.”

Your breath hitched. “I wasn’t alone.”

“You felt alone,” Jeonghan corrected. “And I’m not letting that happen again.”

His hand lifted, fingers brushing your cheek so gently it felt like a whisper.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he said softly.

The warmth of his touch lingered long after he pulled away.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I told you!” Seungkwan declared, dramatically flopping onto the couch.

“Unbelievable,” Mingyu grinned. “Hyung’s down bad.”

“Can you two stop?” Joshua chuckled from the kitchen. “Jeonghan’s already regretting everything.”

“I heard that,” Jeonghan groaned from his room.

“We know,” Seungkwan yelled back.

“Good luck keeping this one quiet,” Mingyu added smugly. “At this rate, you’ll be holding hands on stage by next week.”

Jeonghan pulled his pillow over his face and groaned louder.

The night should’ve been simple — just another music show broadcast with groups performing and greeting fans.

But of course, things were never simple anymore.

Since Jeonghan’s public defense, the tension had only grown worse. Some fans called his speech romantic, praising him for standing up for you. Others… weren’t so kind.

Tonight, those cruel voices felt louder than ever.

Backstage at the Music Show

You stood quietly in the hallway, scrolling through your phone. The comments were brutal.

"Still riding Jeonghan’s fame, huh?" "She’s lucky her face isn’t part of their concept, ‘cause wow…” "Why can’t she just disappear already?"

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat and locked your phone.

“Don’t read that stuff.”

You turned to see Jeonghan standing a few feet away, his expression softer than usual.

“I wasn’t,” you lied.

“You were,” Jeonghan said firmly, stepping closer. “And you don’t deserve any of it.”

Before you could answer, a staff member called for SEVENTEEN to head to the stage.

Jeonghan hesitated, gaze lingering on you. “I’ll be back, okay?”

You forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t look convinced.

On Stage — The Ending Segment

The music show’s closing ceremony was chaotic — idols packed together, waving to fans while confetti rained down. Cameras scanned the groups, lingering on certain faces longer than others.

That’s when you heard it.

“Hey.”

A voice, low but cutting, came from somewhere behind you.

“You should’ve quit while you had the chance,” the voice sneered. “Maybe then Jeonghan’s career wouldn’t be going down with yours.”

You froze. The words hit like a slap, sharp and humiliating.

Slowly, you turned. A junior idol — someone desperate for attention — stood smirking, clearly pleased with himself.

“Excuse me?” you said quietly, your fingers curling into fists.

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged. “You’re dragging him down. Maybe if you weren’t so —”

“What did you just say?”

The voice wasn’t yours this time.

Jeonghan appeared like a shadow, stepping between you and the other idol. His usual teasing smile was gone — replaced with something colder, sharper.

“Jeonghan, hey,” the guy stammered, suddenly looking less confident. “I was just joking —”

“That wasn’t a joke.” Jeonghan’s voice was low, dangerously calm. “If you have a problem with me, fine. But don’t you ever talk about her like that again.”

The crowd was starting to notice — cameras turning, staff whispering.

“Relax, man,” the guy mumbled. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I don’t care what you meant,” Jeonghan snapped. “If you say one more word about her, you’re gonna regret it.”

And then — before you could even process what was happening — Jeonghan grabbed your hand.

Firm. Protective. Unapologetic.

The noise around you blurred as he pulled you offstage, ignoring the murmurs and stares. His fingers didn’t loosen their hold until you were backstage — away from the cameras and the judging eyes.

Backstage — Moments Later

“Jeonghan…” you started, still stunned. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he shot back. “You think I was just gonna stand there and let him humiliate you?”

“It’s not your fight,” you said quietly.

“Yes, it is.” His voice softened, but his gaze didn’t waver. “I don’t care what people say about me. But you?” His hand slid down your arm, fingers curling over your wrist again — softer this time. “I’m not letting anyone treat you like that.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re going to get dragged into more rumors if you keep—”

“Let them talk.” Jeonghan’s voice dropped lower, quieter. “None of that matters to me.”

His fingers brushed against yours — barely a touch, but enough to make your heart race.

“Why?” you whispered.

Jeonghan exhaled shakily, like he’d been holding it in for too long.

“Because I’m tired of pretending,” he murmured. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I care about you.”

The weight of his words hit you all at once. Your eyes searched his, finding nothing but quiet honesty.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Jeonghan’s thumb traced the back of your hand, a soft gesture that lingered longer than it should have. “Just… don’t push me away this time.”

And for once, you didn’t.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I cannot believe this,” Seungkwan gasped, pacing the room. “He really just — in front of everyone?!”

“He grabbed her hand, hyung!” Mingyu grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “No more rumors — this is officially real.”

Jeonghan groaned from his spot on the couch, tugging his hoodie over his face. “I’m never showing my face in public again.”

Joshua chuckled, patting Jeonghan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. If the fans didn’t think you were in love before… they definitely do now.”

From under the hoodie, Jeonghan’s muffled voice muttered:

“…totally worth it.”

The headlines didn’t waste time.

"Jeonghan’s Public Outburst — What’s Really Going On?" "Jeonghan Caught Holding Hands with Rumored Girlfriend — Dating Confirmed?" "Fans Divided Over Jeonghan’s Growing Attachment."

Your social media had become impossible to manage. Some fans flooded your posts with hearts and encouragement — others weren’t as kind. The comments were brutal.

"What did she even do to deserve this?" "She’s clearly manipulating him." "Jeonghan’s ruining his career over some nobody."

You were exhausted — mind clouded with anxiety, heart caught between frustration and confusion.

At the Practice Room

You pressed your forehead against the mirror, eyes closed tightly. The tension in your chest wouldn’t go away — like a constant knot that refused to loosen.

“Deep breaths,” you whispered to yourself. “You’re fine. You’re—”

“You’re not fine.”

Your eyes snapped open.

Jeonghan stood in the doorway, arms crossed, gaze locked firmly on you.

“You’ve been ignoring my texts,” he said quietly.

“I’ve been busy,” you muttered.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Jeonghan corrected.

You let out a heavy sigh, turning back to your reflection. “It’s easier that way.”

“Easier?” His voice rose slightly. “You think ignoring this — ignoring me — is gonna make things better?”

“I think dragging you into this any more than I already have is a bad idea,” you shot back. “The fans hate me. Your company’s probably furious with you. And for what? Because you can’t stop defending me?”

“Because I care about you!”

The room went silent.

“I care about you,” Jeonghan repeated, his voice softer now. “And I don’t regret standing up for you — not for a second.”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “Jeonghan… you can’t keep putting yourself in the middle of this.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” he said firmly. “I chose this.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time in days, you let yourself really look at him. The way exhaustion weighed on his features… the way he still stood there, unwavering, like no amount of public backlash could change his mind.

“Why?” you asked quietly.

“Because…” Jeonghan took a careful step closer. “Because when all this started, I thought I was just protecting you. But somewhere along the way… I stopped pretending.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t care what they say,” Jeonghan murmured. “I don’t care what the media writes or what strangers on the internet think they know about me. All I know is…”

He paused, gaze locking with yours.

“All I know is that I’m falling for you,” he whispered. “And nothing else matters.”

The air between you felt heavy — thick with unsaid words and emotions too overwhelming to ignore.

“Jeonghan…”

“I mean it,” he said softly. “But if you tell me to back off, I will.” His fingers curled at his sides, like he was forcing himself not to reach for you. “If you don’t want this — if you don’t want me — just say the word.”

You opened your mouth to speak… but the words wouldn’t come. Because the truth — the one you’d been burying under fear and self-doubt — was that you wanted him, too.

“I don’t want you to back off,” you whispered.

Jeonghan’s breath caught. “You don’t?”

You shook your head, voice trembling. “I just… I didn’t think you really meant it.”

“I do,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I really, really do.”

And this time, when his fingers brushed yours, you didn’t pull away.

Later That Evening — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You what?!” Seungkwan practically shrieked, nearly knocking over his drink.

“You heard me,” Jeonghan muttered from his spot on the couch, face half-buried in a pillow.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Mingyu held up his hands like he needed to process it all. “So you confessed — and she didn’t reject you?”

“Nope,” Joshua grinned. “She didn’t.”

“Which means…” Seungkwan’s eyes widened. “You two are, like… together now?”

“I don’t know!” Jeonghan groaned. “I think so?”

“Oh my God,” Seungkwan gasped dramatically. “Our Jeonghan… in an actual relationship?!”

“I give it three days before you start acting disgustingly cute,” Mingyu teased.

“Don’t be jealous,” Jeonghan smirked from behind his pillow.

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Mingyu shot back. “I’m just glad I don’t have to hear you whine about your crush anymore.”

Seungkwan flopped beside Jeonghan with a smug grin. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep you two humble.”

“Please don’t.”

“No promises.”

The call from your company came faster than you expected.

“You need to stop seeing Jeonghan.”

Your manager’s voice was firm — no room for argument.

“This scandal isn’t dying down,” they continued. “And now that Jeonghan’s gotten involved? Fans are turning on both of you. If you don’t cut ties soon, this could hurt your group’s comeback — not to mention your career.”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling tightly around your phone. “So you’re telling me to pretend he doesn’t exist?”

“I’m telling you to protect yourself.”

Meanwhile — At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You want me to what?” Jeonghan’s voice was sharp — a rare crack in his usual calm.

“Take a step back,” the manager warned. “Pledis doesn’t want this blowing up any more than it already has.”

“So I’m just supposed to ignore her?” Jeonghan’s voice rose. “Like none of this ever happened?”

“You’re risking the group’s reputation,” the manager said firmly. “If you care about her as much as you claim… you’ll leave her alone before this gets worse.”

Days Later — Practice Room

You stared blankly at the mirror, eyes glassy. The weight of your manager’s warning had been gnawing at you for days.

“...if you care about him, you’ll stay away.”

The words haunted you.

And so, you kept your distance. No texts. No calls. No lingering glances when you knew Jeonghan was nearby.

It hurt — more than you wanted to admit.

“Y/N…”

You flinched at the sound of his voice. Turning slowly, you found Jeonghan standing at the doorway — eyes dark, face tense.

“You’re ignoring me,” he said quietly.

“I’m just… busy,” you mumbled.

“That’s not true,” he said firmly. “You’re avoiding me.”

“Jeonghan, I—”

“Don’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “Don’t push me away.”

“It’s not that simple,” you whispered.

“It is that simple,” Jeonghan insisted. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I know what they’re telling you — I know what they’re saying about me, too.” His hand reached for yours, fingers barely brushing your wrist. “But none of that matters. Not if we—”

“It does matter,” you cut in, voice trembling. “If we keep this up, you’re going to get hurt. Your group — your career — I can’t be the reason you lose all of that.”

“You’re not,” Jeonghan said fiercely. “This isn’t just some passing scandal. This is us. And I’m not letting anyone tell me I can’t have that.”

Your breath caught as he stepped closer — so close you could feel his warmth.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” he murmured. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll walk away.”

You swallowed hard, willing yourself to say it — to end this before it spiraled even more out of control.

But the words wouldn’t come.

“I can’t,” you whispered instead.

Jeonghan’s shoulders dropped with relief. Without warning, his hand slid up to cup your face — thumb brushing your cheek so gently it made your heart ache.

“I don’t care what they say,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“So…” Seungkwan perched on the arm of the couch, grinning like he knew something.

Jeonghan sighed. “What?”

“You did meet up with her, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please.” Mingyu flopped beside him. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot since you walked in.”

“Yeah,” Hoshi chimed in. “And you’re still wearing her bracelet.”

Jeonghan’s eyes widened. He glanced down at his wrist — the small braided bracelet Y/N had given him months ago.

“…oops.”

Seungkwan gasped dramatically. “Oh my God. You’re not even trying to be subtle anymore.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Joshua grinned from the kitchen. “Jeonghan’s finally gone soft.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “I’m not soft.”

“Sure,” Mingyu smirked. “Tell that to the smile you’re trying to hide.”

Jeonghan’s face burned, but he couldn’t bring himself to wipe the grin off his face.

The article dropped like a bomb.

"Jeonghan’s Secret Romance — How Long Have They Really Been Together?" "Insider Reveals Y/N’s History of Using Connections for Fame." "Did Y/N’s Group’s Success Depend on Jeonghan’s Influence?"

The accusations weren’t just cruel — they were personal. The article painted you as manipulative — someone who clung to Jeonghan to boost your career.

Fans flooded social media. Some defended you, but the louder voices were full of anger.

"She’s been leeching off SEVENTEEN’s popularity this whole time." "I knew she wasn’t genuine. Poor Jeonghan." "I hope Pledis makes him end this soon — she’s ruining him."

It was suffocating.

At Your Dorm

“Just stay offline,” your manager urged, pacing the room. “We’ll issue a statement — deny everything.”

“It won’t matter,” you muttered. “They’ve already decided I’m the villain.”

Your voice broke at the end, and your manager softened. “This will pass,” they promised. “People forget these things quickly.”

But you weren’t convinced.

Meanwhile — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan’s phone buzzed nonstop. His inbox was overflowing — texts from worried staff, Pledis representatives warning him to “avoid further controversy,” and comments that cut deeper than he expected.

"I never thought Jeonghan would fall for someone so desperate." "He deserves better." "I can’t believe he’s risking everything for her."

“You okay?” Joshua’s voice was soft.

Jeonghan let out a bitter laugh. “No.”

“You should talk to her,” Joshua said.

“I don’t know if I should,” Jeonghan mumbled. “What if I make things worse?”

“You think ignoring her will make things better?” Joshua shook his head. “She’s hurting, Jeonghan. And you’re the only one who can fix that.”

Later That Night — Outside Your Dorm

The knock at your door startled you.

“Y/N…” Jeonghan’s voice was quiet, barely audible through the door.

You wiped your eyes and opened it. He stood there — hair tousled, eyes heavy with concern.

“Can I come in?”

You hesitated but stepped aside.

“I saw the article,” he said softly. “I know what they’re saying, and I…” He paused, like he was trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you murmured. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is, though.” Jeonghan’s voice hardened. “They’re attacking you because of me. And if I had just —”

“Stop,” you cut in. “I’m tired of pretending this is just your fight. It’s our fight, Jeonghan. And I’m scared.”

Your voice cracked, and Jeonghan’s face softened.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

For a moment, you just stood there — hearts racing, words unspoken.

Then Jeonghan reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek. His fingers lingered, warm and comforting.

“I don’t care what they say,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should,” you whispered. “You should let me go before this gets worse.”

“I can’t,” Jeonghan said, his voice breaking. “I don’t want to.”

The weight of his words hit you like a tidal wave — all the worry, the pain, the longing you’d tried so hard to bury.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in — and Jeonghan was already there, meeting you halfway.

His lips pressed softly against yours — tentative at first, like he was still giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Your fingers tangled in his hoodie, holding him closer as the tension finally broke — weeks of fear and frustration melting into something warmer, something real.

When you finally parted, Jeonghan’s forehead rested against yours, breath shaky.

“We’ll get through this,” he murmured. “Together.”

The Next Day — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You WHAT?!” Seungkwan’s scream practically shook the walls.

“You kissed her?” Mingyu grinned like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Finally!” Hoshi cheered. “I thought I was gonna have to lock you two in a room together.”

“Please don’t,” Jeonghan muttered, sinking into the couch.

“Too late,” Seungkwan declared dramatically. “I knew this was happening — it was only a matter of time!”

“I’ll admit,” Joshua added with a smile, “I’m impressed you managed to last this long.”

Jeonghan sighed, face buried in his hands. “I hate you all.”

“No, you don’t,” Mingyu teased. “You’re too busy being in love.”

Jeonghan groaned loudly — but deep down, he knew they were right.

The photo spread like wildfire.

Blurry yet unmistakable — you and Jeonghan standing outside your dorm, his hand on your face, your head leaning against his chest. The dim streetlight barely masked the intimacy of the moment.

"Jeonghan and Y/N — Secret Late-Night Meeting CONFIRMED!" "Rumors Were True All Along?" "Fans Furious Over Jeonghan’s Lies."

The backlash hit immediately.

"I can’t believe he lied to us." "So they’ve been sneaking around this whole time?" "He’s throwing away SEVENTEEN’s hard work for her?"

Your heart sank reading the comments — each one sharper than the last.

“You need to deny it.”

Your manager’s voice was cold and clipped. “Your group’s comeback is weeks away, and if you don’t fix this now, they’ll blacklist you from promotions.”

“I can’t just—”

“You can,” they interrupted. “And you will. Unless you want to lose everything you’ve worked for.”

Their words hit hard. You thought about your group — the years spent training together, the exhausting schedules, the moments you’d fought so hard to earn your place in the industry.

Were you willing to risk all of that… for him?

Meanwhile — At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“They want me to lie,” Jeonghan muttered, voice low. “Say it was a misunderstanding. Say we’re just friends.”

“Are you gonna?” Joshua asked gently.

Jeonghan shook his head. “I can’t.” His fingers clenched tightly around his phone. “I’m not letting her take the fall for this. Not alone.”

“You’re really serious about her,” Joshua said softly.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” Jeonghan admitted.

Later That Evening — Outside Your Dorm

You opened the door to find Jeonghan standing there — hair damp from the rain, eyes sharp with determination.

“Jeonghan…”

“I know what they’re asking you to do,” he said quickly. “I know they’re telling you to end this — to act like none of this ever happened.”

You swallowed hard. “They said I’ll lose everything if I don’t.”

“And if you do?” Jeonghan’s gaze softened. “You’ll lose me.”

Your breath caught.

“I don’t want you to choose between me and your career,” Jeonghan said carefully. “But I need you to know… I’m not hiding this anymore.”

“What?”

“I’m going public.” His voice was firm. “If they want someone to blame, they can blame me. If they want someone to drag through the mud, I’ll take it. But I’m not letting them tear you down for this.”

“You can’t,” you whispered. “You’ll ruin your career—”

“I don’t care.”

His hand reached for yours, fingers curling tightly around your own.

“I love you,” Jeonghan said softly. “And I’d rather face the whole world knowing I chose you… than lose you trying to save my reputation.”

For a moment, all you could do was stare — stunned, overwhelmed, and hopelessly in love.

“Jeonghan…” your voice shook. “I love you, too.”

His eyes lit up — like hearing those words made everything else disappear.

“Then let’s fight this,” he whispered. “Together.”

The Next Day — SEVENTEEN’s Press Conference

The room buzzed with reporters, cameras flashing from every angle. The members sat in a neat row, tension thick in the air.

Jeonghan’s mic clicked on.

“I know there’s been a lot of talk about me recently,” he began, voice calm but steady. “So I want to be honest — with my fans, with my members, and with everyone else watching.”

He paused, exhaling slowly.

“Y/N and I… we’re together.”

The room exploded with noise — reporters shouting questions, camera shutters clicking furiously.

“But I need to say this,” Jeonghan continued firmly. “Y/N isn’t to blame for this. If anyone deserves criticism, it’s me. I’m the one who pursued her, I’m the one who refused to let her walk away. So if you’re angry… be angry with me.”

He glanced down at his members, who — to his surprise — were smiling.

“Yah,” Seungkwan muttered loudly enough for the mic to catch. “We told you to confess to her months ago.”

The room erupted in startled laughter.

“Yeah,” Mingyu added, grinning. “Took you long enough, hyung.”

The tension lifted — even if just slightly — and Jeonghan felt his chest unclench for the first time in weeks.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I still can’t believe you actually did it,” you said, resting your head against Jeonghan’s shoulder.

“Me neither,” Jeonghan admitted, fingers threading through your hair. “But I’d do it again if it means I get to keep you.”

“You know they’re still talking about us, right?”

“Let them talk,” Jeonghan said quietly. “As long as I’ve got you… I don’t care what they say.”

His lips brushed your forehead, lingering long enough for you to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “Not now… not ever.”

The air inside Pledis felt suffocating.

“You can’t be this reckless, Jeonghan.” The manager’s voice was tight with frustration. “You might think this is romantic, but SEVENTEEN’s comeback is in two weeks. The media’s still focused on this scandal, and it’s dragging the group down.”

“I’ll take the blame,” Jeonghan said firmly. “Leave the others out of it.”

“That’s not how this works,” the manager snapped. “You’re part of SEVENTEEN. Everything you do reflects on them.”

Jeonghan clenched his fists. “So what? You want me to apologize for loving someone?”

“I want you to be smart about this,” the manager shot back. “For now, you’re off the next few promotions. The group can handle it without you.”

Jeonghan’s stomach dropped.

“You’re pulling me from the comeback?”

“No.” The manager’s tone softened. “But until this dies down… lay low.”

Meanwhile — At Your Company

“You won’t be joining the group’s next variety appearance,” your manager informed you bluntly.

“What?!”

“It’s better this way,” they added quickly. “The more you’re seen right now, the worse things get for your group. We can’t risk that.”

“But this isn’t just about me,” you said, voice shaking. “I worked just as hard as the others—”

“And you’re risking all of it because of this relationship,” they cut in. “You need to understand… if you keep this up, you won’t just lose your career. You’ll drag your members down with you.”

Your stomach twisted painfully.

Two Days Later — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan sat on the floor, knees drawn to his chest, as Mingyu quietly placed a can of soda beside him.

“Hyung…” Mingyu began softly.

“I’m fine,” Jeonghan muttered.

“You’re not fine,” Mingyu shot back. “You’ve barely spoken since Pledis pulled you from promotions.”

Jeonghan let out a bitter laugh. “What’s the point? I’ve already messed everything up.”

“You didn’t mess things up,” Seungkwan cut in, appearing in the doorway. “But you are being dramatic.”

Jeonghan shot him a tired glare.

“I’m serious,” Seungkwan said, plopping down beside him. “We’re a team — one stupid scandal isn’t going to ruin SEVENTEEN.”

“But what about her?” Jeonghan’s voice faltered. “Her company’s freezing her out. If she loses everything because of me…”

“Then stop sulking and do something about it,” Hoshi said, suddenly popping his head into the room.

“Like what?”

Hoshi grinned. “Leave that to us.”

The Next Day — Social Media Buzzes

"OMG SEVENTEEN’s Seungkwan just posted a hilarious dance cover — he’s in a full dinosaur costume!" "Mingyu’s live? Why is he making pancakes… at midnight?" "Hoshi’s teaching choreography on TikTok and... failing miserably?!"

Fans were confused — but entertained. SEVENTEEN’s chaotic antics became an instant distraction, drawing focus away from Jeonghan’s scandal.

Later That Night — Quiet Streets

The hashtags shifted.

#JeonghanScandal → #SeventeenDinoDance

#BoycottY/N → #MingyuPancakeKing

You barely recognized Jeonghan with his cap pulled low and mask covering most of his face. He stood just beyond the streetlamp’s glow, waiting for you.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come,” you said softly, guilt weighing heavy on your heart.

“I needed to see you,” Jeonghan whispered. “I don’t care what they’re saying. I just… I had to know you’re okay.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I am.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jeonghan murmured, stepping closer. His hand reached for yours, fingers lacing tightly between your own. “I never wanted this for you.”

You shook your head. “You’re not the problem, Jeonghan. It’s… everything else. My group’s upset. My company’s turning its back on me. I feel like I’m losing everything I worked for.”

“You’re not losing me,” Jeonghan said quietly.

Tears welled in your eyes. “But what if that’s not enough?”

“It is enough,” he said firmly. “You’re enough.”

His arms slipped around you, pulling you close — warm and steady in a way that made the noise of the world seem distant.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair. “And I’m not giving up on you — or us.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered back.

For the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe again.

The leaked recording hit social media like wildfire.

"Y/N’s agency planned her removal from the start?" "Insider reveals Y/N’s relationship was just an excuse to sideline her." "Did Y/N’s company sabotage her own career?"

The recording — muffled yet painfully clear — played over and over online.

“She’s too independent. Too popular. This scandal just makes it easier to push her back a little. It’s better if we let her fade quietly.”

Your heart sank when you heard it.

“They were planning to get rid of me,” you whispered.

Your manager’s voice echoed in your mind, cold and calculated. “This is better for everyone. The group will do fine without her.”

So all the late-night practices, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices you’d made for your career… had never been enough.

Meanwhile — At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan stared at his phone screen, fingers clenched tightly around it.

“They’re using her,” he muttered. “All this hate... they planned it.”

“Hyung…” Joshua’s voice was calm, but worried. “You need to be careful.”

“They’re already blaming me,” Jeonghan said bitterly. “Rumors about a dating ban are everywhere.”

“You know Pledis,” Joshua said. “They’ll do whatever keeps the fans happy.”

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care. If they think I’m giving up on her, they’re wrong.”

Later That Night — Your Dorm

You barely reacted when Jeonghan knocked on your door.

“I heard about the recording,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. “I’m tired of fighting.”

Jeonghan’s hand reached for yours, fingers threading together.

“You can’t let them win,” he said firmly.

“I don’t know how to keep going,” you confessed. “My company’s turned against me. Fans still hate me. My group is…” Your voice broke. “I’m scared, Jeonghan. What if I end up with nothing?”

“You won’t,” Jeonghan said quietly. “Because you’ll still have me.”

His words hit you hard. The tears you’d been holding back spilled over.

“I don’t want you to lose everything because of me,” you choked out.

Jeonghan’s arms circled you tightly, holding you like you were something precious — something he refused to lose.

“I’d risk it all for you,” he whispered. “Every last bit of it.”

You pulled back, eyes searching his. “But what if—”

“I’m not letting go,” Jeonghan cut in, voice firm. “Not unless you tell me to.”

His fingers brushed your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’ll fight for you — as long as you’ll let me.”

In that moment, all the fear, all the pressure, all the noise seemed to fade.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

The Next Morning — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“We need something big,” Seungkwan declared, pacing the room like a man on a mission. “Something so distracting that no one’s talking about the scandal anymore.”

Mingyu’s face lit up. “What if we—”

“No,” Joshua interrupted. “No food fights. No pancake stunts. No chaos.”

“But—”

“Let’s go viral on purpose this time,” Seungkwan insisted.

“You mean… coordinated chaos?” Hoshi grinned.

“Exactly.”

Later That Day — Online

The internet didn’t know what hit it.

Mingyu live-streamed himself reading dramatic poetry while wearing sunglasses indoors. Seungkwan and Vernon posted a dance cover in dinosaur suits — with Dino chasing them in the background.

Then came Hoshi’s masterpiece — a staged “news interview” where he dramatically whispered into the camera:

“Breaking news: Jeonghan is still a menace to society. Please send thoughts and prayers.”

The hashtags shifted overnight.

The energy changed. Suddenly, people were laughing again — not at you, but with SEVENTEEN.

#BoycottY/N → #JeonghanMenace

#Y/NScandal → #DinoDanceChallenge

#JeonghanDatingScandal → #MingyuPoetryKing

A Few Days Later

You and Jeonghan sat side by side, his fingers gently tracing circles on the back of your hand.

“I think things are getting better,” you said softly.

“Because of those idiots,” Jeonghan chuckled.

You smiled — a real one this time.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” you admitted. “But… I’m glad you’re still here.”

Jeonghan turned toward you, his gaze softening.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “Not now… not ever.”

Then, with a smile so warm it made your heart skip a beat, he leaned in — pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead.

The message had been simple.

"Meet us at the practice room at 7 PM. Don’t be late."

You sighed, adjusting your mask as you entered Pledis. Lately, everything felt heavy — the constant whispers, the judgmental stares, the endless rumors. Even your own members seemed distant, their smiles feeling more forced than genuine.

So when Jeonghan’s text arrived, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe SEVENTEEN wanted to talk — or maybe they were just checking in. Either way, you didn’t expect much.

But the practice room was empty.

Confused, you noticed a small envelope taped to the mirror. Your name was scrawled across it in Jeonghan’s familiar handwriting.

“Follow the stars.”

Frowning, you stepped back into the hallway — only to see small glow-in-the-dark star stickers trailing along the floor.

The Performance

The stars led you to a different room — one of Pledis' larger rehearsal spaces. The lights were dim, but as soon as you stepped inside...

Music started playing.

"✨ Baby, baby, baby... ✨"

The soft, familiar tune of SEVENTEEN’s Adore U echoed through the room — and suddenly, Seungkwan burst through the door, dramatically clutching his chest like he was personally serenading you.

“I adore youuuu...” he sang loudly, spinning in slow motion as Vernon popped up beside him, striking an exaggerated pose.

Then came Hoshi — dancing like he was auditioning for Broadway. Joshua followed, holding a fake rose between his teeth. Dino dramatically slid across the floor as if this was some grand love confession.

It was ridiculous. It was chaotic.

And for the first time in days... you laughed.

“I know, I know... you're my angel...”

One by one, the members circled you — reaching out, pointing dramatically to you as the "star" of their performance. Jeonghan appeared last, grinning as he sang his part directly to you.

His gaze never left yours.

When the song ended, Mingyu shot you finger-hearts. “You’re welcome,” he teased.

“You guys are insane,” you laughed breathlessly.

“And you’re smiling again,” Jeonghan murmured beside you, voice softer now. “That’s all that matters.”

“Come with me,” Jeonghan said quietly.

You followed him upstairs, your fingers brushing his as you walked side by side. The rooftop was quiet — but breathtaking.

Fairy lights were strung across the railing, glowing softly against the evening sky. A blanket was spread out beneath a cluster of pillows, and a small box sat beside a flickering candle.

“You did all this?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Well… technically Mingyu nearly set the candles on fire, and Hoshi tried to hang the lights upside down,” Jeonghan chuckled. “But yeah... this was my idea.”

You sat down together, the soft hum of the city below filling the silence. For the first time in weeks, you felt calm — like the world outside couldn’t touch you here.

“I know things have been hard,” Jeonghan said quietly. “I hate that you’re carrying all this alone.”

“I just...” Your voice wavered. “I feel like I’m losing everything. My group, my career... I don’t even know if I belong here anymore.”

“You do belong here,” Jeonghan said firmly. He reached for the small box and placed it in your hand. “And you’ll never lose me.”

You opened the box — inside was a delicate silver bracelet, a tiny star charm dangling from the chain. Engraved on the charm were the words: "나의 별 (My Star)."

Your breath hitched. “Jeonghan…”

“You’ve always been my star,” he said softly. “Even when things feel dark... I just look for you, and somehow, I know I’ll be okay.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Jeonghan smiled — warm, soft, yours.

“I love you, too.”

He leaned in slowly, brushing your hair back before pressing his lips to your forehead. His lips lingered there, soft and steady, before moving to kiss you — gentle at first, but deepening as you melted into him.

For the first time in weeks, the noise of the world faded away — leaving only the warmth of Jeonghan’s arms and the quiet rhythm of his heart against yours.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jeonghan murmured against your lips. “I promise.”

And for the first time in a long while... you believed him.

The public’s reaction to the leaked voicemail felt like a storm finally shifting direction.

"I can’t believe Y/N’s company did this to her..." "She’s been working so hard, and they just threw her away??!" "#StayStrongY/N — you’ve got people who love you!!"

The tide was changing. Fans began flooding social media with messages of support. Edits of you smiling on stage resurfaced. Clips of Jeonghan sneaking glances at you during award shows went viral again — but this time, the captions were softer.

"He’s been in love with her all along... you can see it."

For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe.

A Few Days Later — Outside a Café

The cold air nipped at your skin as you stepped outside, adjusting your mask. You’d been hesitant to go out lately, fearing judgment — but Jeonghan had encouraged you to step back into the world, even if just for a short walk.

“Excuse me…”

You froze. A soft, nervous voice called from behind you. Turning slowly, you saw a young girl — maybe fourteen — standing there, clutching her phone tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I just… I saw you, and I—”

You braced yourself for the worst.

“I just… I wanted to say…” Her voice shook. “I believe in you. And... I think you’re really amazing.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“You… you do?”

She nodded quickly. “When I saw everything people were saying, I... I knew it wasn’t fair. You worked so hard, and you deserve to be happy.”

Tears threatened to spill, but you blinked them away.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “That… that means more than you know.”

The girl smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Oh! Wait!” She dug through her bag, pulling out a small letter — folded neatly, your name written across the front.

“I wrote this,” she said shyly. “Just in case I ever got to meet you.”

Before you could even respond, she gave you a quick bow and hurried off down the street.

You stood frozen, clutching the letter to your chest — warmth spreading through you for the first time in what felt like forever.

The Next Day — Jeonghan’s Interview

“Hyung, are you sure about this?” Seungkwan asked, shifting nervously.

Jeonghan adjusted his mic, his expression calm but determined. “I have to.”

The interviewer greeted him with a polite smile, but the tension in the room was undeniable.

“So, Jeonghan… there’s been a lot of talk about you and Y/N recently. Would you like to address the rumors?”

Jeonghan’s gaze didn’t waver. “I would.”

The room fell silent.

“I know a lot of people have opinions about this,” he began slowly. “And I get it — being an idol means people watch everything we do.” He paused, exhaling deeply. “But what hurts the most is how much Y/N’s suffered because of this.”

He looked directly at the camera now, voice stronger.

“She’s one of the hardest-working people I know,” Jeonghan said firmly. “She’s passionate, kind, and she’s given everything for her career. The hate she’s faced… it’s unfair.”

Jeonghan swallowed hard, his voice faltering for a moment.

“I care about her,” he continued softly. “A lot. And I’m not going to hide that.”

The interviewer’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting Jeonghan’s open confession.

“She’s been my friend, my biggest support... and the person I love,” Jeonghan finished. “If people want to blame me for that, fine. But please… stop hurting her.”

Hours Later — Online Reaction

"Jeonghan just openly confessed on live TV???" "I’m crying — he really said, 'She’s the person I love.' 💔" "This is the softest thing I’ve ever seen. #WeSupportJeonghan."

The hashtag #WeSupportJeonghan trended within hours. Support poured in from both SEVENTEEN’s and your fans.

For the first time in weeks, things felt... brighter.

Later That Evening — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You’re a legend, hyung,” Mingyu declared dramatically, tossing a pillow in Jeonghan’s direction.

“You’re lucky Pledis didn’t kill you,” Seungkwan added. “But honestly… worth it.”

“I figured we should celebrate,” Hoshi chimed in, holding up his phone. “Going live in 3… 2…”

“Wait, what—” Jeonghan started.

But it was too late.

SEVENTEEN’s Live Stream

“HELLOOOOO!” Hoshi yelled into the camera. “We’re here to talk about the true hero of today — Jeonghan the Romantic King!”

Mingyu grabbed a hairbrush, singing dramatically into it. “Jeonghan and Y/N, sitting in a tree... K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Hyung, confessing on live TV?” Seungkwan grinned. “We knew you were whipped, but this is a whole new level!”

“Enough, enough!” Jeonghan tried to grab Hoshi’s phone, but Mingyu tackled him before he could.

The comments flooded in instantly:

“OMG they’re so chaotic I can’t breathe.” “Mingyu STOP HAHAHA.” “I stan Jeonghan’s love story more than my own life.”

Amidst the chaos, Jeonghan finally gave up and laughed — a real, carefree laugh that echoed through the room.

And for the first time in what felt like forever… everything felt okay again.

The warmth from Jeonghan’s interview still lingered in your chest. His words — “She’s the person I love” — played in your mind like a song stuck on repeat.

For the first time in weeks, the world felt softer — less suffocating. Fans were rallying behind you, Jeonghan’s members were your biggest cheerleaders, and you finally felt like you could breathe again.

But the moment of peace didn’t last long.

Two Days Later — Meeting Room at Your Agency

Your manager’s face was stone-cold. The tension in the room felt suffocating as your company’s CEO folded his hands on the desk.

“You need to cut ties with Jeonghan,” he said flatly.

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said firmly. “This scandal isn’t over yet, and now Jeonghan’s confession has made you both an even bigger target.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “We’re giving you two options — either publicly deny your relationship… or we pull you from your upcoming comeback.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re threatening to take away everything I’ve worked for?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” your manager snapped. “It’s for your own good.”

Your own good?

“You mean for your good,” you shot back. “Because now people know you tried to sideline me.”

“Think carefully, Y/N,” the CEO warned. “Jeonghan’s career will survive this. But yours?” He shook his head. “You don’t have the same luxury.”

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

The moment Jeonghan opened the door, you fell into his arms.

“Hey, hey…” His voice softened as his arms wrapped around you tightly. “What’s wrong?”

You buried your face in his chest, the warmth of his embrace breaking the dam you’d tried so hard to hold together.

“They’re forcing me to break up with you,” you choked out. “Or they’ll pull me from my group’s comeback.”

Jeonghan’s arms stiffened. “What?”

“They’re giving me two choices — either I deny everything, or they ruin my career.”

Jeonghan pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “We’ll fix this,” he promised. “I won’t let them hurt you like this.”

“But what if they—”

“I’m not losing you,” Jeonghan cut in, his voice firm. “Not after everything.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His thumbs brushed softly across your cheeks, and the quiet comfort of his presence made your heart ache.

“Whatever happens,” he whispered, “I’m with you. Always.”

The Next Morning — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You’re telling me they’re threatening her?” Seungkwan’s voice rose an octave. “That’s insane!”

“Hyung, this is serious,” Joshua said, pacing the room. “If Y/N’s company doesn’t back down…”

“We’re not letting them win,” Jeonghan said firmly. “I’ll talk to Pledis if I have to.”

“And if they try to keep you quiet?” Joshua asked.

Jeonghan’s gaze hardened. “Then I’ll make sure the world knows exactly what they’re doing to her.”

“Hyung…” Seungkwan’s voice softened. “Are you sure? You’ve worked so hard to get here.”

“I know,” Jeonghan said quietly. “But she’s worth it.”

Later That Day — Social Media Erupts

Jeonghan’s next move wasn’t subtle.

@JeonghanOfficial "Love shouldn’t come with conditions. No one should have to choose between their career and their heart."

The post went viral in minutes.

“Is Jeonghan throwing shade at Y/N’s agency?” “He’s protecting her AGAIN I’M SOBBING.” “This man is fighting for her like it’s a K-drama.”

That Evening — Your Dorm

“Y/N.”

You froze when your manager stormed into your room, phone clutched tightly in his hand.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I didn’t—”

“Jeonghan’s post is everywhere,” he snapped. “Now you’re both trending, and we’re getting flooded with press inquiries.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” you shot back. “People are starting to see what you’re doing — and they’re not okay with it.”

Your manager’s expression twisted. “If you don’t fix this, you’re out.”

Hours Later — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm Rooftop

“I’m scared,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “What if I lose everything?”

“You won’t,” Jeonghan said softly, reaching for your hand.

“But if my company doesn’t back down…”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” Jeonghan said firmly. “You’re not alone in this.”

His fingers traced the bracelet he’d given you — the one engraved with 나의 별 (My Star).

“Remember what I told you?” he whispered. “You’re my star… no matter what happens, I’ll always find you.”

This time, when you leaned into him, you didn’t just feel comfort — you felt safe.

And for the first time in weeks, you believed that somehow… you’d both be okay.

The message came late at night.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, the screen lighting up with a notification from your manager.

"You are no longer a member of the group. The company will release an official statement in the morning."

You stared at the message for a long time, your fingers trembling as you gripped the phone.

It was over.

The group you’d poured your heart and soul into — years of sleepless nights, endless rehearsals, and sacrifices — all taken away because you refused to let your love be a scandal.

Your phone slipped from your hand as you pressed your palms over your face. The tears came quickly, silent but unstoppable.

The Next Morning

"I can’t believe Y/N’s company actually kicked her out!" "She’s been with them since DAY ONE — and this is how they treat her??" "#BringBackY/N is trending worldwide OMG."

Fans flooded social media. Within hours, hashtags like #JusticeForY/N, #BringBackY/N, and #WeSupportJeonghan dominated the trending list.

Clips of you performing on stage resurfaced — moments where you sang with unwavering passion, moments where you pushed through exhaustion just to stand alongside your group. Fans remembered everything.

"If Y/N isn’t part of the next comeback, I’m DONE supporting this company." "We’re not buying a single album unless they bring her back!"

The boycott movement spread like wildfire — fanbases from other groups even voiced their support.

At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“Have you seen this?” Joshua’s voice broke the silence, phone in hand. “The fans are seriously threatening to boycott.”

“It’s working,” Seungkwan muttered, scrolling through his feed. “Her company’s getting destroyed online.”

Jeonghan exhaled shakily. “I should be happy,” he said softly. “But none of this matters if she’s still hurting.”

“She’ll get through this,” Joshua reassured him. “You’ll get through this... together.”

A Few Hours Later — At Your Apartment

The pounding at your door startled you.

“Y/N!” Jeonghan’s voice rang out. “Please — just let me in.”

You hesitated, wiping your face before opening the door. The moment he saw you, Jeonghan’s face softened.

“I heard…” His voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

“I knew they’d do this,” you said quietly. “But it still... hurts.”

Jeonghan cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Everyone’s fighting for you right now — your fans, other idols... everyone.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But I can’t go back.”

Jeonghan’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because…” Your voice trembled. “Even if they let me back in the group, I’d be walking back into the same toxic environment. They never treated me well, Jeonghan.” You swallowed hard. “I can’t go back to a place that made me feel like I didn’t belong.”

Jeonghan’s grip on you tightened — not out of frustration, but out of understanding.

“Then don’t,” he said softly. “You don’t owe them anything.”

“But the fans…” Your voice faltered. “I don’t want to let them down.”

“You’re not letting them down,” Jeonghan reassured you. “They’re fighting for you because they love you — not because they want you to suffer.”

His fingers found the bracelet on your wrist — the star charm shining softly in the light.

“You deserve better,” Jeonghan murmured. “And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

You felt yourself break down, falling into his chest as the weight of everything finally caught up with you. His arms held you tightly, like he was trying to piece you back together.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered into your hair. “For choosing yourself... for being strong.”

For the first time in weeks, you believed it.

Days Later — A Surprise Statement from SEVENTEEN

Jeonghan’s agency broke the silence with an unexpected announcement.

"Jeonghan will be stepping back from activities for the time being to support Y/N during this difficult time. We ask for your understanding."

The fans erupted with mixed emotions — some worried, others praising Jeonghan’s unwavering loyalty.

But the loudest voices? The ones demanding your former company be held accountable.

"This isn’t over until Y/N gets the respect she deserves." "Even if she doesn’t go back to the group — we’ll support her no matter what." "We’re with you, Y/N — always."

For the first time in weeks, the noise didn’t feel so loud anymore.

Instead, it felt like a chorus of voices — not shouting against you, but standing with you.

And when Jeonghan reached for your hand, his fingers lacing tightly with yours, you knew that somehow… you’d both make it through this.

The days following Jeonghan’s statement felt like a blur. Messages of love poured in from fans, old friends, and even strangers. Despite the warmth, a lingering emptiness clung to you — a hollow reminder of the career you’d spent years building, now gone.

You knew walking away from your group was the right decision, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Three Days Later — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed at his phone screen.

“Hyung, what’s wrong?” Seungkwan asked, noticing the tension in his face.

“Look at this.” Jeonghan handed him the phone. An article was spreading online — an exclusive interview featuring a former idol from your company.

[EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW: Former Idol Speaks Out Against Agency’s Mistreatment]

"I saw it firsthand," the idol confessed. "They treated Y/N horribly behind the scenes — constantly blaming her if things went wrong. The managers pressured her to hide injuries and pushed her harder than anyone else."

"And after the dating scandal? They deliberately sabotaged her — cutting her lines, pulling her from promotions, and forcing her to take the blame for something she didn’t even do wrong."

"Y/N’s been through so much… and she didn’t deserve any of it."

Seungkwan’s eyes widened. “Wait… they cut her lines?”

“I knew they treated her badly,” Jeonghan muttered, “but this?”

“It’s not just her fans now,” Seungkwan said, scrolling through comments. “People are furious.”

"Y/N’s company better apologize — this is disgusting." "She was dealing with this and a dating scandal? She’s stronger than I’ll ever be." "#JusticeForY/N — we’re still here for you."

Later That Evening — Your Apartment

“Did you see the interview?” Jeonghan asked softly, sitting beside you on the couch.

You nodded. “I can’t believe they said all that. I thought... no one knew what was happening.”

“People know now,” Jeonghan said firmly. “And they’re fighting for you.”

You offered a small smile, but doubt lingered in your eyes. “It’s just… what am I supposed to do now?”

“You still love music,” Jeonghan said quietly. “I know you do.”

You sighed, fingers tracing the charm on your bracelet — the tiny star that had become your comfort.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“You don’t have to.”

Jeonghan smiled softly, reaching into his pocket. “Because I already figured that out for you.”

He handed you a folded piece of paper.

“What’s this?” you asked warily.

“Just… trust me,” he said with a grin.

The Next Day — Surprise at Pledis Studio

When Jeonghan brought you to Pledis, you felt your stomach twist.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you mumbled, anxiety creeping in.

“You can,” Jeonghan said firmly, squeezing your hand. “Just trust me.”

He led you to a practice room — but when the door opened, you froze.

Inside, SEVENTEEN’s members stood scattered across the room — some with instruments, others by microphones. Hoshi grinned from behind a speaker, while Woozi stood by the keyboard, adjusting sound levels.

“What… is this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Your new beginning,” Jeonghan said proudly.

“We’re helping you record a song,” Joshua explained, stepping forward. “Woozi’s been working on a track for you.”

“You’re… serious?” Your voice shook.

“Of course we are!” Hoshi beamed. “This is your comeback — your real one.”

“We believe in you,” Woozi added quietly. “And I know this won’t fix everything… but it’s a start.”

You blinked rapidly, overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say…”

“Say yes,” Jeonghan said softly, his eyes warm and full of quiet encouragement.

And so you did.

Hours Later — Inside the Recording Booth

Your hands shook slightly as you put on the headphones. The melody started — soft, comforting, yet powerful.

Woozi’s voice came through the speaker. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and sang — quietly at first, then louder as the music swelled.

The emotions poured out — the hurt, the fear, the heartbreak... but also hope. A flicker of strength you didn’t know you still had.

When you finished, you turned to the glass where Jeonghan stood, watching proudly. He gave you a small thumbs-up — his smile warm and full of love.

For the first time in weeks… you felt like yourself again.

Two Weeks Later — Online Reaction

The song — “Unfinished Star” — was released quietly, but it didn’t take long for fans to find it.

"Y/N’s voice sounds even more powerful than before. I’m crying." "She’s back... stronger than ever." "We’ve been waiting for this, Y/N — we never stopped believing in you."

The overwhelming support washed over you, filling the void you once feared would never heal.

And as you scrolled through the comments, Jeonghan’s voice echoed in your mind:

"You’re my star... no matter what happens, I’ll always find you."

You smiled, clutching your phone tightly.

He had found you — and this time, you knew you weren’t shining alone.

The success of Unfinished Star took you by surprise.

In just a few days, the track had climbed the charts — not just because of SEVENTEEN’s involvement, but because fans believed in you. Their comments flooded every platform:

"Y/N’s voice has always been amazing — now the world’s finally listening." "Her emotions hit so hard… I’m so proud of her." "She doesn’t need her old group — she’s a star on her own."

But for every supportive message, there was still noise from your former company.

At Your Former Agency’s Office

“Are you sure we can spin this?” your former manager asked, pacing the room.

The CEO scowled, reading the latest headlines.

"Y/N’s Emotional Return Shines Brighter Than Ever!" "Ex-Idol’s Comeback Outshines Her Former Group’s Promotions."

“She’s gaining sympathy,” the CEO muttered. “And sympathy sells.”

“What if we… I don’t know… claim the song was ours?” your manager suggested.

The CEO’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll say we supported her from the start. Flip the narrative — make it sound like we encouraged her to pursue solo activities.”

“But that’s a lie,” your manager said cautiously.

The CEO smirked. “It doesn’t have to be true — it just has to look true.”

Later That Day — Online Statement from Your Former Agency

"We are proud to have supported Y/N throughout her journey. Her recent success is a reflection of the dedication we nurtured during her time in our company. We look forward to celebrating her continued achievements."

Your phone nearly slipped from your hands.

“They’re really trying to twist this?” you muttered under your breath.

Before you could even process the betrayal, your phone buzzed again — this time from Jeonghan.

At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I can’t believe they’re doing this,” Jeonghan muttered angrily, pacing back and forth. “They’re acting like they didn’t kick you out!”

“I should just ignore it,” you said quietly, still processing the statement. “I don’t want to drag this out.”

“You don’t have to ignore it,” Joshua said firmly. “They’re taking credit for everything you did on your own.”

“Yeah,” Hoshi chimed in. “You deserve to speak up.”

Jeonghan stopped pacing, turning to you. “If you’re ready… we’ll help you.”

The Next Morning — Your Statement

With Jeonghan beside you, you started the live stream.

“I didn’t plan to say anything,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “But I can’t stay silent anymore.”

You took a deep breath, feeling Jeonghan’s quiet presence beside you.

“My former agency claims they supported me through this,” you said slowly. “But the truth is… they didn’t.”

Your fingers gripped the bracelet on your wrist — the star charm grounding you.

“They cut me from performances. They isolated me from my group. And when I refused to deny my relationship with Jeonghan, they forced me out completely.”

Pausing, you swallowed hard, feeling your emotions build.

“But despite everything… I’m still here. I’m still singing because of the people who believed in me — my fans, my friends… and Jeonghan.”

You turned to him briefly, and his warm smile gave you the courage to finish.

“I won’t let anyone rewrite my story,” you said firmly. “Because this is only the beginning.”

A Few Days Later — SEVENTEEN’s Concert

“Come with me,” Jeonghan said, tugging your hand as the concert neared its end.

“Wait, what?” you stammered. “Where are we—”

Before you could protest, you were backstage — and SEVENTEEN’s encore had just begun.

“We’ve got one more surprise,” Seungkwan announced, his voice echoing through the venue.

Your heart stopped as Jeonghan took your hand and led you on stage.

The crowd erupted in cheers — deafening, overwhelming, yet so full of love.

“Everyone!” Jeonghan shouted into his mic. “This star right here?” He turned to you with a smile. “She’s been through so much… but she never gave up.”

The cheers grew louder.

“You believed in her when no one else did,” Jeonghan continued. “And because of you… she’s back where she belongs.”

He gave your hand one final squeeze before stepping aside — motioning for you to take the mic.

The crowd went quiet.

And then… you sang.

Later That Night — Backstage

“You did it,” Jeonghan murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“We did it,” you corrected, smiling softly.

“You know…” Jeonghan smirked. “I still remember the first time I saw you on stage. I knew back then you were something special.”

“You’re just saying that,” you teased.

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “Back then… you were just my crush.” He leaned in closer, voice low. “But now? You’re the love of my life.”

The warmth in his eyes stole your breath away.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you more,” Jeonghan smiled, his fingers gently tracing the bracelet on your wrist.

“You’re still my star,” he murmured. “And no one’s ever going to dim your light again.”

[keyboardsmashess]

The Siren, or The Heart of the Matter

Chapter Thirty Three: The Miracle, or Ten Words and a Thousand Kisses

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, canon-typical violence, smut, implied abuse MINORS DNI. A/N: Well, this is it, bbs. The final chapter of Cleo and Bucky's story ❤️ CW for some bonus smut Chapter one of my next work should be coming next week, but it's going to have a slower (read: more reasonable for me) posting schedule. Expect one a week or so, but I'll try to be consistent. I'll be posting a sneak peek here in a few days, though ❤️

Summary: Cleo and Bucky have one final mission.

Chapter Directory

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Bucky nods, glancing nervously between me and Steve. “Positive. I can’t have this hangin’ over my head for the rest of my life.”

Steve nods decisively. “Alright, then, if you’re sure.” He glances at me nervously, but I give him a reassuring smile. I know in my bones that everything is going to be fine, but I understand why Bucky’s being cautious, just in case.

I press my hand to the glass. “Whatever happens, James, I love you.”

He presses his own against the other side of the glass, mirroring me from within the padded room Tony built to contain my screaming practices all those months ago. “I love you, too.”

Steve takes a deep breath.

“Longing.” 

Bucky winces, but it seems more pavlovian than a genuine reaction to pain. He gestures for Steve to continue.

******

I groan frustratedly, flipping onto my side. For the first night since Bucky and I started taking turns at each other’s apartments, I’m having an insomniac moment.

“Cleo, what’s wrong?” he mumbles, face still soft from sleep. 

I sit up. “Does… does it ever get easier?” I ask, voice small and wobbly. “Knowing that… you took someone’s life?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky sighs, propping himself up on one elbow to look at me. “How long has this been bothering you?”

“Since the moment I had you back,” I say, frowning. “When I agreed to join the team, I never thought I’d… I didn’t realize I had that in me, you know? Now I’m wondering if it was the wrong thing to do. I mean, they were horrible people and they were hurting you, so it isn’t like the world is going to miss them, but you know.”

He reaches up to cup my chin, stroking my cheek with a thumb. “Do you want the comforting answer or the honest answer?”

I look at him flatly. “Honest, obviously.”

“Right, should’ve guessed that,” Bucky says, heaving a sigh. “Honestly, Cleo… No. It doesn’t get easier, necessarily. But I think, over time, you start to make your peace with it. With knowing that you did what you had to do.”

I nod, wiping at my face.

“And for what it’s worth,” he continues, thumbing a tear from my cheek. “I do think you did what you had to do. There weren’t a lot of other options.”

I smile sadly at him, leaning down to kiss his nose. “Thank you. I think what I feel the worst about is that I don’t regret it - not really, not knowing that it led to this.” I take his hand and squeeze it. “But maybe you’re right, maybe I just need time.”

Bucky lays back down, yanking on our joined hands to pull me down next to him. “You’d be surprised what a little bit of time can heal,” he says softly, and I nod.

I rest my head on his chest and finally drift off to sleep, everything feeling just a little less heavy now that I’ve got someone to hold it with me.

******

“Rusted.” 

I hold my breath, but Bucky doesn’t react at all.

“Seventeen.” 

Bucky runs a nervous hand through his hair and gives me a small smile when he sees me tracking the movement.

******

Bucky, Steve, and I enter the common room after our run. I make a break for the coffee machine, patting Betty fondly as I place my usual order. When I turn, mug in hand, I catch Bucky staring at my snug athletic shorts, a delicious heat in his eyes. I take a sip, returning his burning look over the rim of my coffee mug, and he grins wickedly.

“For crying out loud, could you two at least wait for me to leave the room?” Steve says, voice pleading. 

I blush, suddenly finding my mug incredibly interesting, and Bucky scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he says, sounding anything but.

Steve sighs. “I need new running partners. You two are on your own.” I stifle a laugh as he grabs a drink from the fridge and stalks off toward our shared floor.

Bucky is around the bar the second Steve is out of sight, taking the mug from me and setting it down on the counter. “Careful, Barnes - come between me and coffee at your own peril.”

He gives me that wicked, wicked look again and heat pools instantly in my core. “On second thought,” I say, “I’ve heard that too much caffeine isn’t great for anxiety.”

Bucky grips my waist and lifts me effortlessly onto the countertop, putting me right at his height, and braces a palm on either side of me. He gives me a quick, teasing kiss before stepping back, and I whine and wrap my legs around his middle to pull him closer.

I kiss him deeply, encircling his neck with my arms, and he gives up his teasing act immediately at my touch. I sigh contentedly and he slips his tongue between my lips.

“Christ, Rogers wasn’t kidding,” Nat says, and Bucky reluctantly pulls back as I wipe my mouth self-consciously. She glares at us. “We have to eat here, you know.”

I blush and hop off the counter, and Bucky surreptitiously steps behind me to hide his reaction to our kissing. Natasha rolls her eyes, and I grimace. “Sorry, Nat. We were just, uh, talking about…”

“About each other’s lips?” she asks sarcastically. “Get out of here, you fucking degenerates. I’m about to hold another intervention.”

I blush furiously and Bucky places his hands on my shoulders, steering me quickly out of the room and toward the elevator. We don’t make it much further than that, as it turns out, pulling the emergency stop button before the elevator reaches our shared floor.

When it finally arrives and the doors open, Steve is standing in the hallway with a disappointed look in his eyes. “I’m starting to think Stark was right and we should have left you two on the damn submarine.”

I smile at him innocently as Bucky grabs my underwear from where they’d gotten stuck on the handle of the ceiling’s emergency hatch, and furtively stuffs them in his pocket. I cover my face when I realize what just happened, letting Bucky lead me into the hall. He pats Steve on the shoulder as we walk past him. “One day you’ll get a gal, Stevie, and then you’ll understand.”

Steve mutters something that sounds like ‘insufferable’ as Bucky and I make our rapid way to my apartment. 

******

“Daybreak.” 

His hands clench, and he squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Furnace.” 

I see the muscles of Bucky’s jaw working, and I turn to Steve. He ignores me, focusing only on his friend.

“Nine.” 

Bucky shakes his head, and I bring my fingers to my lips when I see the lines of his face etched in worry.

******

Laying in bed, tracing circles on his bare chest, I take a deep breath. “Buck?” He hums, looking down at me adoringly. “I have a stupid question.”

“No such thing as stupid questions,” he says. “Ask me anything.”

“What…” I bite my lip. “What are we?”

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “A very old supersoldier and a cosmic energy host, according to you,” he chuckles. I frown, and he clocks the expression, tipping my chin up to give me a sweet, small kiss. “Clearly that isn’t what you meant.”

I shake my head. “No. I’m asking… Ugh, I feel like a fucking teenager right now, this is so stupid. I’m asking what we are, you and me together. Like… what would you call this thing between us?”

His eyes soften in understanding. “Oh, I get it now. Cleo, that isn’t stupid - if I’d known you were worried about it, I’d have brought this up the second we stepped off that damn submarine.” I let out a little sigh of relief and smile up at him. “Sweetheart, we can be whatever you want us to be. Back in the day,” he says in a silly voice, and I can’t help but laugh, “I’d have called us ‘going steady,’ but that feels outdated and not nearly important enough to describe what you are to me.”

He kisses the tip of my nose, and I blush. “What do you want us to be?” he asks tenderly.

I turn my focus back to his chest, running my fingers through the hair growing there idly to avoid looking him in the eye. “I don’t know,” I say. “I’ve never felt this with someone before.”

Bucky makes a small noise of surprise, but when I look up at him he’s schooled his features back into a loving gaze. “Wellll,” he says, drawing the word out. “If someone asked me, I’d like to be able to at least tell them you’re my girlfriend.” He blushes adorably. “And… I’d prefer it if you weren’t going on dates with librarians, or anyone else for that matter.”

I grin at him, anxiety finally eased. “There was never a date with a librarian, Buck, because it’s been you since the moment we met.” He beams at me, and I can’t resist the urge to kiss him.

A few moments later, we break apart, breathing hard. “Monogamous girlfriend sounds good,” I say, hands trailing down his chest and lower. “But I think I’ll just call you my love.” He groans, and I can’t tell if it’s from my words or my wandering hands.

******

“Benign.” 

Bucky cries out in pain, sinking to his knees on the padded floor.

“Steve, stop,” I shout. “Stop - it’s hurting him.”

Bucky shakes his head vehemently, not opening his eyes. “No. Steve, you have to keep going. I have to do this.”

“Okay, Buck,” Steve says softly, voice full of his own pain.

“Homecoming.” 

Bucky grits his teeth, groaning through his clenched jaw. I resist the urge to cover my eyes, knowing I owe it to him to witness his pain - to hold it with him. 

“One.” 

Bucky screams sharply and waves his arm. I huff a sigh of relief, thinking he’s going to put an end to this. “Get her out of here, Steve. I don’t want her to see it if it doesn’t work.”

I blanch. “Are you crazy? I’m not leaving!”

He shakes his head. “Steve, you have to make her go.”

I place both hands on the window. “James Buchanan Barnes, you listen to me. You promised - swore - that you’d trust me to make my own choices. And right now, I’m choosing to stay here, no matter what happens, because I love you, you idiot.”

Bucky huffs a laugh through the obvious pain. “God, you’re fucking impossible. Alright, fine.” He winces. “Steve, please. Finish this.”

******

The rays of sun are hitting Bucky’s face just right when I blink my eyes open. I simply cannot help but lean over and wake him with a deep kiss. 

“Cleo?” he groans, blinking his eyes open. “What time is it?”

I pull back and look down at him with devotion. “I don’t know, like seven? We slept in.”

He grins up at me, and I become hyper-aware of the fact that I fell asleep before putting any clothes back on last night. “Well then, we may as well stay in bed a little longer.” His hand vines up my leg under the covers and I gasp when, without any ado whatsoever, he brings his fingers right to my core.

His head disappears beneath the blanket, and when his tongue makes its wicked way to my center, I find myself intensely grateful that the Tower’s apartments are sound-proofed.

“Oh my gods, James,” I moan loudly, and I can feel him grin against my skin as he plunges his tongue inside me. He brings a thumb to my clit, teasing it as he moves his tongue in devastating thrusts. I’m completely undone, head tipped back against the pillows and mouth open wide - no clue what’s coming out of my mouth except that, whatever it is, it’s loud.

I unravel so quickly under his tongue, finding my release with a cry that has my light bulbs shattering in every single lamp.

Bucky pops his head out from under the covers, hair adorably mussed and smiling smugly as he licks his lips. “We need to start buying light bulbs in bulk.”

I grin hazily and he presses a kiss against my temple, snuggling close to me as I recover. “That, or we just get rid of our lamps.”

His face grows serious as he lifts up on an elbow to look at me. “Absolutely not. Out of the question.”

I giggle and reach up to smooth the lines from his forehead. “Alright, my love, relax. We can keep the lamps.”

“Good,” he says, lifting my hand to his lips so he can kiss each one of my fingertips. “Although, I had a thought.”

“Oh no, that sounds dangerous,” I tease, and he rolls his eyes, suddenly looking quite nervous.

“What if…” he trails off, so I squeeze his hand and give him a comforting smile. “What if my lamps and your lamps were in the same apartment?”

My eyebrows furrow. “Then one of us wouldn’t have any lamps, which is apparently a problem for you.”

Bucky sighs deeply and bites his lip. “No, I’m trying to say… What if we didn’t have to go back and forth every night? What if - what if we just had one apartment. For both of us.”

My eyes go wide and, without even thinking, I pounce on him, straddling his waist and peppering kisses all down his face, neck, shoulders. He laughs, a sound of pure joy, and I sit up, looking down at him. “James, are you asking me to move in with you?”

He blushes, grinning furiously, and gives me a crooked grin. “Yeah, doll, I am.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m going to ignore that because I’m too fucking happy to be irritated with you right now.”

Bucky reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Is that a yes?”

I simply kiss him again. And again, and again, and again.

******

“Freight car.”

The three of us are completely still for a beat before Bucky blinks his eyes open, staring right into my soul.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, and a sob escapes me when the voice I hear is that of my love. 

“Cleo, you’re - you’re a miracle. You did it.” I cover my mouth with trembling fingers and loose a shaky laugh, grabbing Steve’s arm with my other hand. “You really did it.”

Steve whoops, pumping a fist in the air, and makes for the door, but for once I’m faster than the supersoldier. Before he’s taken two steps, I’m in the room, tackling Bucky to the ground in a hug. 

He kisses me hard. “You really did it,” he repeats, voice no louder than a whisper. He wipes an errant tear from my face.

Steve sniffles loudly, and we both look up. He wipes at the corner of his eye. “What?” he asks at our wide-eyed expressions. “You saved my best friend with the power of love. I’m bound to be emotional about that!”

I giggle and stand, pulling Bucky up with me. I pat Steve on the shoulder. “I know, Big Guy. It’s okay.” He gives me a watery grin, and I return it. “So what now? Do we celebrate?” I ask.

Bucky shoots Steve a significant look that I don’t really understand, and Steve’s eyes go wide. “Oh. Oh. Um, I actually have some… stuff to do. Real important stuff, so I’m just gonna go… do that. Right now. Probably for an hour.” Bucky clears his throat, and Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? Wow. I mean, actually probably for a few hours? Yeah. So. See you later.” 

He disappears through the door before I can respond, and I narrow my eyes at Bucky. “What was that about?”

Bucky shrugs, an innocent look plastered on his face. “I have no idea. Steve is a mystery even I don’t understand, sometimes.”

I roll my eyes, but I can feel my cheeks heating with a blush. “A few hours, huh? Someone’s feeling ambitious.”

Bucky smirks and takes my hand, leading me out of the room and practically running toward our apartment. “Hey, I have a new lease on life.”

“Whatever you say, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky groans, fumbling as he tries to open the door, and the second we’re inside he has me pushed up against the wall in a desperate kiss.

“So,” I say between kisses, unable to help myself. “Wanna watch Supernatural?” 

Bucky moves to kiss the sensitive spot behind my ear. “I had something else in mind - something that doesn’t involve you watching two other men.”

I laugh, voice breathy under his attention. “I don’t know,” I say, teasing. “Dean is pretty hunky.”

Bucky growls, capturing my lips in a deep kiss, and snakes his metal hand down my back to grip my ass. Hard. I moan. “What was that?” he asks, voice low.

I lift one leg to wrap it around his waist and he gets the memo, picking me up and pressing my back against the door. “Nothing,” I say against his lips. “My thing’s stupid. Let’s do your thing.”

He chuckles and backs away from the door, carrying me into our bedroom. “That’s what I thought.”

We undress quickly and lay back on the bed, but instead of giving in to a flurry of movement as per usual, I straddle his waist and lean down to place slow, delicate kisses along the gnarled skin where Bucky’s shoulder connects to his metal arm. He watches me with wide, reverent eyes, and when I meet them with my own loving gaze, the emotion I see bowls me over.

I cup his cheeks with my palms, just staring at him - at this stunning man who’s given me the startling gift of his love. “James,” I say.

He nods, tears pricking the corners of his beautiful blue eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

I trace the lines of his face with my fingers - an entire world I’ve already mapped every inch of, yet never grow tired of exploring. 

“James,” I repeat, grazing his nose, his cheeks, his lips. “Welcome home.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Final A/N: Wow! We did it, my loves. 33 chapters, 100,000+ words, so much angst, a little smut, weird stuff with lamps, and one complete story about two idiots healing from trauma and falling in love. Thank you all for coming along on this journey with me. When I decided to try my hand at writing fanfiction for the first time since I was fourteen - *mumbles* years ago, if you can believe it - I had no idea this was what would come from it. Thank you all for all your feedback, encouragement, and kindness. I love each and every one of you ❤️

[takenbypeter]

Can you please write something with Ben Poindexter x reader where they like match each other’s freak so to speak. She’s kinda like Maya Lopez in the way that she kills for people and someone hires her to kill Dex but she starts to like him the more that she like learns his routine and investigates him. I don’t know I just really like the idea of someone understanding Dex even though he kinda crazy fr.

No Longer Alone

Benjamin Poindexter x reader

Words: 1261

A/N: Love this idea! So good! I initially wanted to make it different from my other Dex fics but of course I just somehow ended up with writing about Dex and him being good, I’m sorry if you wanted something crazy but I had a blast writing this one

Warning: mention and like layout of Dex and that suicide scene that he was about to to do in season 3 back in the day, also gun mention (Idk if that needs a warning but just in case)

Is what you did honest work? While most would say no, especially considering you were essentially a hitman, you would argue yes. And the only reason you considered it honest work was because you always, always made sure to do thorough research before fully accepting a job. 

Your rule for a target was always the same: half payment up front, then after weeks of surveillance if you deemed the target culpable, you did what had to be done and then collected the rest of the money.

Surveillance was the most time consuming of the task, taking weeks to ultimately make the decision. You never wanted to take the life of anyone who had even a scrap of goodness to them out. 

And just like with any other target the same conditions applied to Benjamin Poindexter. 

Benjamin Poindexter. A.K.A. “Dex,” was currently an FBI agent. He was a former Brooklyn Suicide Preventer, and a former U.S. Army man. 

None of his past surprised you, you’ve had enough kills to know that it wasn’t what people showed others that made them a good person, it was what they didn’t that got you the call. 

In your first week of surveillance there were some intriguing things you noticed about the man. Firstly, you noticed how rigid his schedule was. Each day he stopped by the same locations. Some places were of course dealing with his occupation and necessary shopping, but other places seemed to be random. You did some more investigating to answer the main question here, why? And you easily found out the answer wasn’t something, but rather someone. Julie Barnes. 

Julie Barnes was an ex-coworker of Benjamin Poindexter from the suicide hotline center, and he seemed to have taken an infatuation towards her. Well you wouldn’t call it an infatuation. You didn’t know what it was, was it love? Curiosity? Or just pure obsession. Whatever it was intrigued you, because all he did at each and every place was watch her. He never did anything strange, just watched. 

While it was kind of ironic; you, stalking a stalker. You found it kind of endearing the way he looked at her. The look wasn’t fear-inducing, it wasn’t sinister, but sweet, with a joy-stricken smile appearing on his face every now and again, like he sincerely and genuinely cared for her. Frankly, it was cute. 

The other thing you noticed after keeping surveillance of him was his mentality, or rather his meltdowns. He seemed to have them not too often but frequent enough to the point that he knew precisely what to do when it did occur. You watched him a few times trying his best to collect his sanity, relying on cassette tapes and headphones that he pulled out from the closet. Each time you took note of how hard he worked to keep it all together. He was trying. And that was better than anything you could’ve said for any of your past targets. 

A week went by and something happened, you observed as Dex’s schedule almost instantly fell apart. He was suspended from his job, he had a falling out with Julie. 

You could tell it had an intense effect on him. 

That night, when you followed him home he appeared to have a multitude of emotion coursing through him. Upset, sadness, emptiness, you had a bad feeling in your gut watching it all unfold before you. 

Monitoring him through his window, you viewed as he roamed about his apartment slowly. He sat down and pulled a gun out laying it in front of him on the table. Eyes never leaving the scene, you watched as he looked to be actively battling his internal thoughts, contemplating deeply as he kept his head down, eyes fixated on the weapon.  

You could’ve walked away there, you could’ve turned a blind eye, let the job be done. But something in you knew that he could pull through this. Dex wasn’t a bad guy. He needed help.

Feet moving faster than your brain, they carried you out of your car and up the flight of steps trying their hardest to get you to him before he could do anything further. Running up you stopped at his door and frantically knocked. 

You didn’t know what was happening behind that door, you just hoped nothing drastic had happened yet. 

“Benjamin Poindexter! I need you to open this door right now!”

You stopped for a moment and heard quiet on his end, and your mind started running a course of thoughts. But then you heard it, some shuffling that sounded like it was getting closer, so you kept talking.

“You don’t know me, but I know you. I know you’re struggling Benjamin but you can pull through this…you’ve done it before, and you can and will do it again.”

Your head was close to the door waiting to hear any sound that might indicate he was still there. “You need help and I can get you help.” 

Then you heard it, a slow click coming from the doorknob. 

After waiting another second, the door then opened a crack revealing said man on the other side. You took note of his state, his eyes were filled with a watery appearance but he seemed to be stable at the moment. “How do you know my name?”

You let out an intense breath that you were holding in at the sight of him still alive. “Can we talk inside?”

Dex stared you down considering his decisions. 

“Please?”

Against his better judgment, he opened the door completely, allowing you to enter. Once inside, you took note of how clean and organized his place looked before turning around to him, “Hi. I was hired to investigate and kill you.”

Dex’s concentrated stare never faltered or swayed as he listened. 

“I can’t tell you who ordered it as that would be a violation of my legal contract but I can tell you that I’m not going to do it.”

He didn’t say anything, you weren’t sure if he was just taking it all in, plotting his next words, or controlling his emotions. 

“I’m not going to do it because I see an ounce of goodness in you. You are a man who is under heavy pressure, but even when your thoughts take over, you do your best to try to bring it back together. And Benjamin, that is all it takes. Trying.”

“Dex.” He corrected, which prompted you to repeat it back, “…Dex.”

Dex’s face softened, his expression no longer tense as his guard lowered. He believed you. He had no reason not to. The hit out on him was believable but you seeing goodness in him, he wanted to believe that too. 

“I…struggle when I’m alone…in my head sometimes I hear thoughts that hold me over the edge.”

“Well you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Reaching into your pocket you pulled out your card with a number on it. Dex’s eyes drop to it as you hold it out between your fingers. 

“If you ever feel alone, here’s my number.”

Dex was hesitant, staring at the card until finally, he reached out and took it. 

“You don’t have to be alone, Dex…call me.”

And with that last piece you shared you gave him a final look before walking out his front door. 

Dex’s eyes remained on the card that had your name printed on it. 

Did Dex think that he deserved to be killed that night? Yes. 

Was Dex happy that you saved his life? Only time would tell.

[glowettee]

✧˖° the identity shift: start thinking like an A+ student

post 1

💭 before you even touch your notes, before you highlight a single word, before you drown in exam stress. change how you think about yourself.

most people study with the mindset of “i hope i do well” instead of “i am the kind of person who excels.” and that’s the difference. if you want to start acing your exams, your first step isn’t flashcards or practice tests. it’s shifting your identity. because an A+ student doesn’t just work hard, they think, act, and exist differently.

this is the second post to the final exam survival series. the last post, was focused on how to actually enjoy learning and using that to motivate yourself for school. this post will focus on shifting your identify, which can also work great for manifesting and law of attraction/assumption. i will try to give you the best possible tips to help you shift your mindset to already have the A+ mentality. love you guys <3 - mindy

disclaimer: please don't think i expect you to be perfect, i use 'A+ student' as a way to help you when using loa or manifesting. YOU ARE A HUMAN; DO NOT THINK YOU NEED TO MEET STANDARDS TO BE PERFECT! i love you all and wanted to make sure you know i am NOT setting an unrealistic standard. this post is to help you with manifesting good grades and to inspire you. not for toxic motivation or unrealistic standard setting. - mindy

✧˖° ➼ 01. stop identifying as “bad at studying”

you will never outperform the identity you attach to yourself. if you keep telling yourself: ➝ “i suck at this subject.”➝ “i’ve never been good at exams.”➝ “i’m just not a naturally smart person.”

then you’ll stay stuck. why? because your brain is wired to prove yourself right. but when you shift to: ➝ “i am fully capable of mastering this material.”➝ “i am becoming an A+ student.”➝ “i study in a way that works for me.”

your actions start aligning with that belief. the way you approach studying changes. and suddenly? you’re not “bad at it” anymore.

✧ homework: rewrite every negative academic belief you’ve held about yourself into a new, empowering one. read them before every study session.

✧˖° ➼ 02. start acting like an A+ student right now

not when you feel “ready.” not when you’re already good at the subject. right now.

✨ an A+ student doesn’t: • cram the night before and hope for the best • avoid studying because it feels overwhelming • rely on last-minute motivation to get things done

✨ an A+ student does: • plan their study sessions like an actual strategy • break down material into small, digestible pieces • work consistently, even when they don’t “feel like it”

✧ homework: take one small action today that your A+ student self would take. even if it’s just organizing your study space or making a realistic revision schedule.

✧˖° ➼ 03. use strategic learning, not just memorization

most students study to remember. A+ students study to understand. if you keep forcing yourself to memorize facts with no deeper connection, you’re setting yourself up for forgetting everything under pressure.

🖇 better study strategies:• teach the material → pretend you're tutoring someone who knows nothing about it. if you can explain it simply, you truly understand it. • apply what you learn → don’t just read about a formula, actually use it in practice questions. don’t just memorize historical dates, understand their impact. • switch up your methods → your brain loves novelty. use diagrams, study cards, summarization, and active recall instead of just rereading notes.

✧ homework: find one concept you’ve been struggling with and try teaching it to yourself out loud as if you were giving a TED talk.

✧˖° ➼ 04. start believing you deserve high grades

subconsciously, a lot of people don’t actually believe they’re the kind of person who gets top marks. they might think: ❝ i’ve never been a straight-A student, so why start now? ❞ ❝ my past grades weren’t amazing, i probably won’t do much better. ❞

but what if you let yourself believe otherwise? what if you fully accepted that you deserve to succeed just as much as anyone else? because you do. and the moment you believe that, you start acting in ways that make it true.

✧ homework: visualize yourself receiving your dream grade. feel the confidence of knowing you earned it. then ask yourself: what would my future self tell me to start doing right now?

✧˖° ➼ 05. control your environment like a top student

your surroundings play a huge role in your academic identity. A+ students set themselves up for success by designing an environment that makes focus effortless.

🖇 small shifts that make a huge difference: • keep your study space clean & minimal (no distractions) • use a dedicated study playlist to trigger focus mode • have a go-to beverage (tea, coffee, water) to make studying feel like a ritual • wear comfortable but put-together clothes to signal to your brain that it’s time to work • remove your phone from your workspace entirely (or use app blockers)

✧ homework: make one intentional change to your study environment today. observe how it affects your focus.

✧˖° ➼ 06. stop waiting for motivation

A+ students know that motivation is fleeting. they don’t rely on feeling “in the mood” to study. instead, they: ➝ create systems (set study times, routines) ➝ make studying automatic (habit, not a debate) ➝ use momentum (just start. five minutes can turn into an hour)

✧ homework: set a 10-minute timer and study right now. no overthinking, no debating. just start.

✧˖° mindy’s personal tips

💌 your identity is everything. if you don’t believe you’re an A+ student yet, start acting like it anyway. your mindset will catch up. 💌 make studying feel aesthetic. wear cute study outfits, light a candle, make it a whole vibe. enjoyable studying = effective studying. 💌 romanticize the glow-up. your academic transformation is a story. imagine looking back and realizing this was the moment everything changed. 💌 you are not behind. you can reinvent yourself as a top student at any time. even now. even today.

xoxo mindy

[bumfuzzled-bee]

Pat pat.

[impulsivedecisionsat3am]

either i can be an icon and make a final research project on trump x biden yaoi, or i can be really petty and make it about executive dysfunction and it’s negative effect on musicianship and then discuss it during band class so my teacher will overhear me talking about it

[enigma020]

Creations Renew: CHLAIRRE (Part 3)

At the end of the day, they’re just kids, burdened by the pain and guilt that they weren’t meant to carry just yet.

[ PART 1 ]

[ <- PART 2 ]

[ PART 3.5 -> ]

[itspileofgoodthings]

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[spiders-and-swords]

Hadn’t drawn anything in a while prior to the last two drawings I uploaded, so I pulled out this quick pose which I ended up really liking