#I feel so lost like I’m not made for people at all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ak4e7a · 2 days ago

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𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞) - 𝐩𝐬𝐡

𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧 / '𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦

synopsis: you were never one to take the high road... until you met someone who made your body burn like rubber on asphalt.

street racer! hoon x street racer!maneater! reader

wc: 16.9k holy fuck honestly this hoe might be a 3-parter lowk

a/n: hi sorry i disappeared... but enjoy LOL and happy one year to my blog! i met so many cool people over this past year. reblogs are appreciated and i will astral project into your room and hug you ≽ܫ≼

banner by @karinasbaby i love you this one's for you big dawg. year in the making, let's go

“Didn’t think you were going to grace us with your presence tonight, Miss Probation,” Jaeyun smirks as you get out of your car, swinging both of your legs out closed like a lady so as to not flash anyone with the black miniskirt you’re wearing. He greets you with an air-kiss to your cheek, to which you roll your eyes—although you bask in the way the other girls stare at the two of you. If only they knew how annoying your best friend actually was.

“It’s Jungwonie’s turn to race for us, so who am I to deprive my brother and the team of our good luck charm? We need all the luck we can get tonight,” you reply, taking a seat on the hood of your baby pink Supra. “We’re on a good win streak. Might even take this season’s cup without me.”

The other racers from different teams have started to arrive, many of them making their way over to say hello to you. You give your girls—Jimin, who races for Razor; Aeri, the beloved race girl; and Soyeon, a member of the AZ team—air-kisses from across the parking lot. You aren’t feeling like walking over to the groups they’re mingling with. (And because you don’t feel like being near Hwang Hyunjin right now.)

“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, sitting beside you when you pat the spot next to him. “But you know, Wonie is better than you think—”

“Hey, you never let me sit on your car,” Wonbin says, striding over to you with a smirk. You glance up at him, and he looks like he’s expecting you to either push Jaeyun off or scoot over yourself—either way, he wants a turn.

Basically everyone in your little racing scene does, but you think it’s more fun to work them like dogs than to give in to anyone. Especially not after what happened with— “You’re not even in Enigma, Wonbin. Privilege is for teammates only, get lost,” Jaeyun says condescendingly.

He looks at you again, like an expectant puppy—which only works if it’s Jaeyun doing it to you— waiting for you to reach into your purse. You sigh and reach in and feel around for a particular wrapper. “Here. Go away.”

The Australian snickers as Wonbin walks away dejectedly. “The grandma coffee candy, huh?”

“He was too cocky, that's all he deserves tonight. Even if he’s cute. He’s lucky I gave him anything at all.”

“What about me? I’m cuter,” Jaeyun asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with his signature cheeky grin, batting his eyelashes at you the way you do to him. You’re used to flirting with him; it’s more of a way to keep both your skills and his sharp than anything romantic or suggestive. After all, you grew up with Jaeyun, and you know all his embarrassing secrets just like he knows yours. One time in high school, the two of you fake-dated for a week to get some girl too obsessed with him for her own good to leave him alone. It’s safe to say she didn’t buy it, not one bit. You and him bickered too much for it to be believable, and you accidentally screamed when he kissed you on the forehead.

“Hmm…” Playfully, you pretend to be deep in thought, hand digging in your purse again. “Here.”

His face lights up in innocent delight, a huge contrast to his outfit of baggy cargo pants, oversized hoodie, and sneakers, complete with a thick, iced-out Cuban-link chain around his neck. “Ooh, yum! Grape Hi-Chew!”

You roll your eyes. “I only carry that for you, loser. Everyone knows the mango one is the best.”

“You just say that because grape was—”

“Hey, Y/N! Nice wrap,” Riki says, waving his long arms at you like he’s drowning. The tall, newly-turned 21-year-old bounds towards you before tackling you in a hug that sends you almost crashing into the ground, your hands flying to tug the hem of your skirt down lest your protective younger brother scold you about not dressing for the weather. It’s a cold spring night, as proven by Riki who’s in a loose, knitted navy blue sweater and destroyed light wash jeans.

“Jeez, Riki, I just saw you yesterday, no need to suffocate me,” you grumble affectionately, reaching up to muss his black-and-silver hair before sitting back down on the hood of your car. You’ve been fond of the boy since Jungwon brought him over one day, his first new friend since losing his best friend (and one of yours, honestly) in a betrayal that still hurts to speak of to this day. Riki clings onto you like you’re his older sister, too, and you reckon it probably has something to do with missing his own sister back home. “You saw me finish the wrap on the car, too, remember? Jimin and Soyeon were there.”

“Yeah, yeah, but it looks good even at night! Very professional. Maybe you can wrap the GTR next?” he says, to which you side-eye him, and he adds, “I can pay you.”

“You can pay for my meals every time we go out to eat for the next three months and I’ll call it even.”

He laughs. “Okay, deal. You eat less than Jungwon hyung, anyways.”

“Why are you talking shit about me to my sister again, freak?” your younger brother demands, making his way up to the small crowd that’s starting to form around you, Riki, and Jaeyun. He looks taller today, you think to yourself, and when he comes into full view, you see that he’s riding on the back of an unfamiliar person, a tall man with a sharp jawline and a pretty nose, whose bangs droop over his eyes. He’s wearing a white tank top and jeans, with a black and blue leather racing jacket covering his torso from the chilly Seoul air.

“Well, did I fucking lie?” Riki snaps back, arms crossed. You hide your laugh in the crook of your arm, eyes locking with the man who’s got your brother draped over his broad shoulders like a backpack. He looks at you intensely, in a way that makes you feel like he’s got x-ray vision or something. You feel like your insides are turning into lava. What’s his deal?

“Whatever, cricket legs.” Jungwon jumps off the man’s back, shaking his hair out of his eyes. You notice that he’s yet again stolen one of your oversized hoodies. “Oh, hyung! This is my sister, by the way. Noona, this is Sunghoon hyung. He’s joining Enigma.”

He’s cute, pretty, even, and you like that. You’ve always preferred pretty boys. And up until about five seconds ago, you would have said that—even though your ex-boyfriend is a cheating bastard who deserves nothing but suffering—he was still the prettiest man you’ve come across.

But this one, this one in front of you right now, this one takes the cake. He’s got full, thick brows that frame dark almond eyes, and his cheekbones flow into his jawline in a way that makes you think his face has probably stopped traffic at least once in his life. Before you stare at him for way too long, you reach into your purse and pull out one of your mango-flavored Hi-Chews (from your personal stash) to give him.

“Hi, Sunghoon. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Enigma.”

He repeats his own version of your greeting a bit too curtly for your liking, but you don’t care either way, he’ll be under your thumb in no time, just like everyone else, just the way you like. Rolling the wrapped cube in his hand, he asks, “What’s this for?”

To which you reply, “Oh, nothing. I just like candy.”

“I feel like ‘like’ is an understatement,” Riki snorts, sticking his hand in your purse for something he can snack on. You sigh and hand him your purse for him to rummage around more freely.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at that, but turns to you anyways. “Do you race, too? I don’t want to assume or anything.”

You give him a coy smile, translucent bubblegum-pink-manicured fingernails clicking against the hood of your car as you drum your fingers against it. “Yeah, I do. I’m banned from racing right now, though, until the end of the season at least.”

He cocks his head like a curious puppy, blinking slowly at you. Oh, no. He’s cute and probably doesn’t know it, but he’s definitely dressed like he knows he’s hot. “Why’s that?”

Your smile turns into a smug smirk as you answer, “Because I go too fast.”

“Fourth-gen Supra,” he muses, glancing between your bare legs at the titanium Toyota emblem on the hood that you’d had imported from Japan. For some reason, you have to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together. “Cute.”

“Oh? And what’s your ride?”

“Beamer M8 Comp,” Sunghoon says, an air of nonchalance about the answer like it’s nothing special. It kind of pisses you off. You’re pretty certain he didn’t win that car by racing for the pink slip like you did with your Supra. Before you got that car, Jungwon’s 350Z was yours, and you’d only had it because you salvaged it from a junkyard and rebuilt the whole damn thing yourself when you weren’t working or sleeping.

If there’s one thing you might hate more in this life than cheaters, it’s people who come from money, people who didn’t understand or couldn’t comprehend that they were playing life on easy mode. People who never had to suffer, because, to you, they never learned anything.

Sure, you had a hard life. Sure, your parents kicked you and Jungwon to the curb when the both of you refused to take over the family business. Sure, you worked hundreds or, more likely, thousands of hours just to make ends meet and take care of your brother while the two of you finished school. Sure, you wished you could have enjoyed your youth more instead of having to worry about money.

But instead, you had to pay the price for your freedom. Part of you still wonders if it was all worth it. If you should have stayed in your hometown. If you should have just went along with the arranged marriage your parents were proposing with someone you didn’t even know instead of running away with your ex and dragging Jungwon to hell with you.

Okay, maybe it really pisses you off.

“Ooh, rich boy,” you deadpan, your long nails preventing you from balling your hands into fists. You deny him the pleasure of seeing you roll your eyes back into your head. “Daddy must have spent a lot on you.”

“That’s not very welcoming to say,” he shoots back, although his voice is just as flat, his eyes narrowed at you.

You pout mockingly at him. “I’m just teasing our newest member—don’t worry, silver spoon. It’ll be over for you sooner if you decide to quit while you’re ahead.”

“You scared you won’t be the best racer on the team anymore or something, princess?”

“Just wait for me to get off probation and I’ll make you eat my brake dust, Daddy’s Money.”

“You’re already calling me daddy, even though we just met? Because it was my money that bought the car, for the record.”

You’re a little embarrassed and also slightly turned on, neither of which you would ever admit to even Jaeyun, and he knows you just about as well as he knows every single Fortnite map. “Tell someone who cares.”

The back-and-forth between the two of you is thankfully cut short as everyone hears the roar of a particular engine, marking the arrival of Enigma’s leader. You could just kiss him for his impeccable timing—if it weren’t for the fact that neither of you saw each other that way. You reckon both of you would rather eat a jean jacket than get more intimate than the platonic skinship that marks your friendship with him and the other Enigma boys.

People move aside as he puts the metallic, slime green Lamborghini Huracan in reverse and backs up into the parking spot next to you. The ostentatious exotic car belonging to Jay was gifted to him by one of his first clients, a filthy rich businessman who respected and admired Jay’s hard work and dedication to his job despite Jay being a corporate grunt in those days. During this period in your lives, Jay never once showed up late to a meeting with Mr. Big—even when his old Mitsubishi Lancer finally gave up on him after years of being pushed to its limit, even if it meant he had to wake up at three in the morning to start walking from his old apartment in Ahyeon-dong to Gangnam to make the scheduled 6 AM meetings—since the subways unfortunately didn’t operate until 5:30.

After Old Moneybags found out about Jay’s struggle, it was safe to say your best friend wasn’t on hard times for very long after that.

“Jay!” you call out, playing up your role as the only girl in Enigma just to assert dominance over the racer groupies in attendance tonight. You haven’t seen him since the last race, on account of the both of you being too busy with your work schedules to hang out properly. You immediately nudge past everyone—including Sunghoon, who you intentionally brush up against, your ass against his leg—to be the first to greet him.

“Hey, sweets, missed you,” he says, pulling you into a hug. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, been just fine. You know me, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” you assure him with a smile. He pinches your cheek. “What about you?”

“Oh, same shit, different day. Hoping I finally clutch this huge promotion at work. Head of an entire department,” he answers, protective hand on your waist as he guides you back to the rest of the Enigma boys. Along the way, he daps up some of the other racers who say hi to him, before giving Sunghoon, Jungwon, and Riki a dap and that weird side hug that guys who are close friends do. “Have you met Sunghoon yet?”

“Yeah, I have.” Your lips form into a slight pout, even though you know everyone but Riki is immune to your occasional petulance. “No one told me we were getting a new member. I thought we agreed to vote if it ever happened again? And… I thought it was never going to happen again?”

“You weren’t answering your phone when we voted, so Riki and Wonie took your vote,” Jaeyun snickers, shaking Jay’s hand and giving him the one-armed, “definitely not gay, bro” hug. “Think you had the group chat muted again.”

“Well, that was for good reason,” you argue crossly. While you loved your boys, that didn’t stop them from getting on your nerves at least once a day. “I was mad at you guys for not wanting to go get milk tea with me. And then you got it without me, clearly.”

“Didn’t we bring you some that night, though?” Jay retorts, ever the level-headed one when his temper wasn’t getting the best of him.

“Yeah… but I wanted to come! We live in the same building, for fuck’s sake!”

“It was a boys’ night, silly. Are you a boy?” Jaeyun pats your head and you swat his hand away, grumbling under your breath at him to not to touch you and to fuck off.

Your attention veers to Jungwon as he turns to Sunghoon, who’s standing with his arms crossed, watching you bicker with the boys from a distance. “Don’t mind her, she’s always like this. You ready to race?”

“Always like what, Yang Jungwon?” you ask mirthlessly, hands on your hips.

“A brat!” Jaeyun and Jay answer on his behalf, tugging you away so as to allow the racers on tonight’s card to drive up to the starting line, and everyone else can get behind them.

That’s how your scene’s races have worked since you were tasked with changing the rules two years ago; two drivers from each team participating would race, while the others would drive behind them as pace cars. They would also be ready to distract the police at a moment’s notice and keep the roads clear of civillians. It was as ethical as you could make it, and, honestly, it worked and kept everyone safe.

On this night, you’ve been roped into Jaeyun’s metallic blue Mustang Shelby GT500, with glimmering white racing stripes you added on yourself, huffing and muttering to yourself about how the boys were being “mean” to you in front of Sunghoon to try and impress him. Jay has gone ahead to wait at the finish line. He’d refused—again—to not “put the Huracan anywhere near any of these morons with driver’s licenses,” and so he’s there to note down the order in which the racers arrive, armed with several precisely-calibrated stopwatches.

You yourself have refused to ride with any other driver even though many of them offered to bring you along as their “passenger princess”. You will only ever ride with one of your boys. Riki is in his blacked out R35 Nissan GT-R, the other seats occupied with the life-sized plastic skeletons that he “borrowed” from his school’s anatomy lab. He’s cruising beside Jungwon, and behind you and Jaeyun; Sunghoon is in his own car beside you two.

“How’d you even meet that guy, anyways?” you groan to your best friend, trying to shield your eyes with the way Riki’s obnoxiously bright, blue underglow on his car is blinding you in your side mirror. Your hand dangles out of the open window, fingertips tapping idly on the outside of the door. “He’s so unfriendly.”

“Actually, he’s pretty cool when you get to know him. Riki and I met him at the gym a few weeks ago. He asked if one of us could spot him on the bench press—for three plates, that’s fucking sick! But, uh, yeah. We started working out together after that.”

You scoff. “Oh, great. Another meathead like you two.”

“Y/N, that’s not nice,” Jaeyun chides, glancing at you with the same affection of an older brother, even though you’re both 24 years old. “You’re not being very nice tonight.”

“Well, neither is he. He’s just some spoiled little rich boy who thinks he’s better than everyone.”

“Um… so am I, honestly… and so is Riki, honestly, but you don’t say anything about that, do you?”

You begin to reply, but you frown as Sunghoon speeds past the two of you in his pearly black BMW M8 Competition, the exhaust pipes screaming bloody murder, heading for the starting line just a hundred feet ahead. “Did he hear me say that about him?”

“Most likely.”

“Fuck.”

Part of you wants to apologize; maybe you’re being a little harsh on him, maybe you’re projecting your feelings towards this guy just because he reminds you of a certain someone, maybe you need to finally come to terms with what you’ve been denying for all these years.

Jaeyun pulls up to his spot behind the racers, right between Riki’s GT-R and Jungwon’s 350Z. You signal to the Nissan Boys, as you affectionately call your little brothers, to put their seatbelts on. They both pretend to sigh begrudgingly as they buckle themselves in.

The race girl is your good friend, Aeri, who every guy in your racing division is also obsessed with. Between the two of you, you think that she’s the truly adored one, because she is still as sweet as the day you met her—and you have an inclination to terrorize anyone of the opposite sex who rubs you the wrong way (due to your past). You can’t help it though, and, surprisingly, none of the boys who fall at your feet fault you for it.

But no one ever seemed to feel the need to prove you wrong, either, and that was your problem with them.

Aeri stands in between the middle two drivers, reaching under her top to unclip her bra. You take this as your cue to pull out the megaphone from where it sits waiting at your feet. Leaning out of the window, you announce, “First one to the base of Namsan Mountain wins! I expect a clean race, no funny business. Take no shit, but do no harm!”

“Isn’t that backwards?” Jaeyun whispers to you. You wave him off. He’s right, but you’re trying to emphasize your point about not dragging any innocent people into the racers’ mess.

You continue.“Tonight’s winner will receive the cash prize from me, personally, at a later time. Are we clear?”

A chorus of revved engines gives you your answer. “Alright. Aeri, count us down?”

She nods, pulling out her bra from her top and holding it up in the air. “‘Kay! You guys will go on 1! Ready? 3… 2… 1!” At the final number, she lets the hot pink satin garment drop to the ground, and everyone guns it, driving off in a flurry of exhaust smoke and burnt rubber.

“How much was the buy-in tonight, sweetie?” Jaeyun asks, using his own form of the sugar-derived nickname for you.

“Five million won apiece,” you answer. You scroll through Yun’s phone and play a song on his obnoxiously overpriced sound system. You’ve been joking to your friends that you’re in your “girl Future” era, citing your borderline toxic behavior towards the other racers who constantly slide in your DMs as proof that you’re literally the female version of the rapper. It doesn’t help that your coworker, Minjeong (who is also your self-appointed “work wife”), encourages you to torment men.

“‘I Serve the Base’? Really?” he snorts, leaning back in his seat. “You’re in a mood tonight, huh?”

“I dunno, it just fits the vibe,” you shrug. “Just quit yapping and drive, please.”

“Like I said, a mood.”

You sigh and physically turn away from him like a petulant girlfriend would—knees pointing towards the door and all—and stare out of the passenger window at the cars in front of you. You watch as Wonbin and Hyunjin duke it out on the road, trying to put each other in last place. The way they’re maneuvering their cars makes you a little uncomfortable, but also annoyed that they clearly didn’t listen to a word you said not two minutes ago. “Yunie, flash your high beams at them.”

“Say please.”

You look at him in confusion. Where’d he learn to say that?

“Sorry, Sunghoon does that to Riki and Jungwonie all the time.”

Yikes. Part of you hopes he doesn’t do it to girls, too… but you wouldn’t mind it if he were to do it to you. It’s high time someone really makes an effort to put you in your place, honestly. You reach behind you, to the back seat and grab the laptop you took from Riki, opening it up and typing furiously.

“What are you doing?”

“Accessing the street cameras,” you answer like it’s obvious. Being nefariously good at using the Internet was a perk that came with hanging out with your brother way too much. “I want to see what’s going on.”

“Well? Give me the rundown, then.”

“Jungwonie is in third place, it looks like. He’s gapped Hyunjin in front of us by at least a kilometer… and he’s approaching San and Wooyoung real quick. But—fuck, wait.” You click through a bunch of tabs, scanning the screen faster than when you’re reading twenty-six text message screenshots that Aeri sent you to dissect. “I can’t find Sunghoon anywhere.”

“What? What do you mean you can’t find him? Did he get pulled over or something?” he asks, lowering the volume of his speakers using the button on his steering wheel, eyes still trained on the road in front of him. He flashes his lights again, this time at just Wonbin to pick up the pace, urging him to pass Riki—who now has his underglow set to a stealthy dark red—up ahead.

“No… just… wait, give me a sec… oh, holy fuck.” You click through the camera footage, rewinding it and slowing down the playback. “Oh, my God.”

“Jesus Christ, what is it? You can’t just cliffhanger me like that!”

“I can’t see him because his lights are off.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think he has a mod on his car—you literally can’t see him unless he drives under a streetlight.”

“Wait, that’s what Riki imported for him?!”

“What the—oh shut the fuck up, it was me who imported that light system! That fucker said it was for a friend when I asked him why he was buying new bulbs, ‘cause I knew he just got those halo LEDs!” You take a deep breath before sticking your hand in the pocket of Jaeyun’s pants.

“Yo! I thought we agreed not to fuck in the car! And especially not while I’m driving—but I guess I shouldn’t turn down some road head…”

“God, shut up, you perv! I need to get your phone and call Sunghoon!” you cry out. “He needs to turn his lights on, what if he gets hit by someone?!”

Jaeyun laughs. He laughs. At your misery, or your panic, or at you. “So you do like him.”

“Shut the fuck up, seriously, Yun, I just don’t want anyone getting hurt. We’re already on thin ice with the cops as it is!”

“Shoutout San, though,” he chuckles, shifting gears so he can close the gap between him and Wonbin, who is starting to approach Hyunjin again.

Your friend Choi San, also a racer on the AZ team, is from a family of high-ranking Seoul Police Department officials; he’d gotten pretty much everyone off the hook more than once for various traffic violations. You keep a stash of mint chocolates in your purse for whenever he’s around—even if they remind you of your ex-best friend—as your way of thanking him for keeping everyone’s records clean. It also helps that he absolutely loves your attention.

“You’re so annoying, Sim Jaeyun. Let me call Sunghoon, seriously.”

“Dude, chill, look at the cams again. The gap between everyone is getting smaller.”

You check the laptop screen again, and he’s right. You see Jungwon overtake both San and Wooyoung, and while you’re still holding your breath in worry over your baby brother, another part of your heart soars with pride at how good he’s gotten. You’d like to think that he got his driving skills from you, even though it was your stupid prick of an ex-boyfriend who first put him behind the wheel of a car.

But when you look up, you notice that Jaeyun is distracted trying to change the song playing on his phone. And there’s a sharp turn coming up ahead. You feel sick, adrenaline immediately rushing through your bloodstream.

Instead of screaming nonsense, you slam the laptop shut, tossing it on the floor and practically crawling across the center console to grab the wheel with one hand and the e-brake with the other. You drive your knee into Jaeyun’s leg to floor the accelerator, and at the same time, you deploy the e-brake and turn the steering wheel hard. The car drifts around the turn with ease, thanks to him immediately springing into action, tossing his phone somewhere in the cupholders and countersteering as he shifts gears.

“Pay attention next time,” you mutter in annoyance, as if the two of you almost crashing was a slight inconvenience and nothing more.

“Sorry, Mommy,” he snorts, downshifting back to his cruising speed. You give him the middle finger as you watch the cars change formation in front of you. Hyunjin cuts off Wooyoung at the junction between two roads, and Wooyoung swerves in the opposite direction to avoid hitting San to his left. Wonbin approaches from behind San, flashing his lights, trying to get one of them to move over, but they both downshift, forcing Wonbin to brake, fall back, and move over to try and find another opening.

And then it happens.

You hear a distinct 8-liter engine roaring furiously somewhere in the vicinity, but you see nothing. You think for a second that it could be the sound of a police helicopter overhead, but you doubt it, not if San tipped off his family that there would be a race tonight, and he always does, because you remind him to do it. You think that he pretends to forget just so you’re forced to text him and he’ll have an excuse to talk to you, but you don’t really care because he’s sweet and always earns himself the best of your candy stash—although you’ll reluctantly admit that Sunghoon has been the first to get the candy that you carry for yourself.

Because you’re not allowed to smoke inside Jaeyun’s car, you unwrap another mango Hi-Chew and wonder if Sunghoon would taste like you if you kissed him. Sure, you don’t like him all that much so far, but he’s hot, so maybe you could just hook up with him and dip—

Oh, who are you kidding? You haven’t slept with anyone since your ex, even though everyone thinks otherwise. You’ve made out with San and Hyunjin a few times, much to the amusement of Jaeyun and Jay, but you never let it get past that. You just go home and use your vibrator to finish the job. Sex is too intimate, feels too much like baring your soul to someone else and you don’t want anyone to get too close like that any time soon.

Too close, too close, too close just like the sound of that engine, and it snaps you out of your thoughts. Sunghoon finally turns his lights on, and reveals his location for everyone to see. He’s at the front, way ahead of even Jungwon, who is currently trying to keep Hyunjin off his tail.

No one but Sunghoon ever had a chance to win.

The race ends before you can truly even register this fact, and everyone parks at the base of Namsan Mountain to congratulate the winner, who seems insanely put-off by all the attention.

“Jay,” you say, approaching the Huracan driver quietly, your shoes crunching the gravel beneath you.

He looks up from his phone at you, jawline illuminated by the screen. The way he slightly tilts his phone away from you signals that he’s texting Aeri. You laugh inwardly; he doesn’t know that you know about them secretly hooking up. “Mm?”

“What was Sunghoon’s time?” you ask. Your bottom lip is tucked under your teeth, and you don’t even realize how hard you’re biting down.

“Eight minutes, twenty three seconds.”

You gulp. Like actually, visibly gulp, as if you’re swallowing a hard-boiled egg whole like some cartoon character. “Oh. That’s—”

“Almost a whole minute faster than your record. He told me he took a detour somewhere at the halfway point.”

“He’s good,” you admit. “Just like—”

Jay interrupts you again, pocketing his phone. “Don’t say his name, sweets. They’re nothing alike.”

You turn to him, eyes searching for answers. He simply puts a hand on your shoulder before pulling you into the hug he knows you need right now. “It’s been two years,” you mutter into the fibers of his cashmere sweater, hoping that the knit is dense enough that it drowns out the sound of your voice. “Why do I still bring him up?”

“He was a big part of your life. And ours, too. It’s okay. You’re going to have to accept that none of it was your fault eventually.”

“And stop taking it out on anyone else that comes after him, huh?”

Jay pats you on the back. “Bingo.”

“Wait, no one ever gave me a real answer, but why do Jaeyun and Riki live together? And Jay and Jungwonie?” Sunghoon asks. He’s sitting across from you in the former pair’s living room, letting your younger brother lean against him as the alcohol takes over Jungwon’s weak tolerance.

You raise your glass like it’s an extension of your hand, leaning against the bottom of Jay’s leather couch where you sit beside him. “That was my idea, when I was moving out of my old apartment. I lived there with my ex, until I kicked him out. When my lease was ending, all of us decided to move to a new building—this one—and I figured that each of the two young ones should have a hyung to look after them. But also, I didn’t want anyone living with me.”

The last part leaves everyone silent, and you laugh, adding, “Why do you guys look surprised? I told you that when we were signing our leases.”

Sunghoon looks at Riki to his right, who is trying to make a soju bomb with more soju and less beer, and then across from Riki at Jaeyun, who is egging him on to just drink straight from the soju bottle, and back at Riki, who listens to the Australian intently, like he’s some sort of genius. “Are you sure that was a good idea?”

You wave him off. “Oh, yeah. They’re just off the clock right now. You know, can’t be serious all the time.” Oops, another dig at him.

Your phone chimes with notification after notification, and it’s not just updates from Candy Crush. It’s text messages, and not the good kind from Aeri or Soyeon telling you which racer they’ve gone home with tonight.

Before you can silence your phone, though, Jaeyun, who’s on your other side, picks up your phone, laughing exaggeratedly as he waves your glowing screen in the air. “Guys, look! I told you it was gonna happen!”

“What?” Sunghoon asks, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. You shake your head at him and mouth the words “don’t listen to him”.

But then Jay starts cackling, catching your phone over your head when Jaeyun throws it to him in order to read the messages out loud. You don’t even bother fighting their teasing anymore; in fact, you’re a little excited, because you know your boys are about to go in on whoever’s hitting you up. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here! From Wonbin: ‘it was nice seeing you tonight, do you want to hang out this week?’”

“Ewww, gross,” Jaeyun groans with a mouthful of fries. “He was literally trying to sit on the Supra when Y/N pulled up!”

His revelation is met with a chorus of laughs and jeers as your boys mock Wonbin for his transgression, for being so stupid and arrogant to think that you would have just given him a free pass. After all, that car is your baby. You suffered a lot for it, and not just anyone could come up and touch it. In fact, one time, Jungwon was banned from riding in your car for a month because he got his fingerprints on your side mirrors.

“Did San-hyung text noona?” Riki’s nosy ass asks, running up behind the couch and diving onto it to look over Jay’s shoulder. Jay pushes his head away. “Oh, shit, he did!”

Jungwon sighs, slumping further even against Sunghoon. “God, just read it and put me out of my misery. He’s so down bad for her, it’s disgusting.”

Jaeyun giggles, and kicks his sock-covered feet like a schoolgirl. “He’s probably gonna ask her on another date and make her bike along the Han River again.”

This makes you choke on your drink, and it almost comes out of your nose. “Hey, I thought we we agreed not to bring that up.”

“It’s not every day I open my Instagram and see your stupid ass fighting for your life getting hard-launched on his story,” he snorts. “Watching you trying to ride that bike gave me second-hand embarrassment.”

“Yeah, it’s like he didn’t even care that you looked stupid, he was really trying to let everyone know that he was out with you,” Jay adds. “Way to keep it lowkey, or whatever.” Your face burns hot with embarrassment as you realize that Yunie has taken out his own phone to pull up the screen recording of San’s Instagram story to show Sunghoon. Now you actually want to smack the phone out of his hand, but you figure it’s fine, you don’t care if he sees you like that. It shouldn’t matter, he’s just one of the guys now. He could join in the teasing for all you care.

Right?

“Yo, hold the fuck up, Y/N, I thought you and Hyunjin were done?” Jay says, scrolling through your notifications.

Your eyes flick up to Sunghoon, who is currently trying to busy himself with separating the perilla leaves—that no one has so much as breathed in the direction of tonight—as he seems to not pay attention to the video, or to what Jay is saying. Either that, or he really doesn’t find it funny. “Put it away, Yunie,” he says quietly, one hand gently pushing back Jaeyun’s phone towards him. “That’s too much. You’re embarrassing her.”

“I thought so, too,” you sigh at Jay, trying not to acknowledge the fact that Sunghoon may or may not have just stood up for you against your best friend. “He ignored my texts for, like, four days, and you guys know how much I absolutely hate that. I know I lag, too, but never that long. At least I’d tell you that I’m busy or whatever. Fuck’s sake.”

“What did Hyunjin hyung say?” Jungwon mumbles. He’s now using Sunghoon’s lap as a pillow, and the sight makes you feel a little soft. You love your younger brother to bits and pieces, and seeing him like this reminds you of the times he’d come home really tired from school and fall asleep at your dining table while you prepared dinner for the two of you. You often yearn for that period in your life, when things were much simpler and the only thing you were sad about was missing your family.

Now you have a new family, but another part of your heart is broken, and time hasn’t healed it—at least, not completely.

“He’s asking if she’s busy this week,” Riki answers. Part of you wants to drag him by the hair and put him on a one-way flight back to Japan. “Oh, Jay hyung is checking her calendar. Yikes, hyung… You’re still pushing that agenda?”

“What agenda?” Sunghoon pipes up after gulping down the last of his beer, his lips glossy from the liquor.

“Oh, he just thinks they’d be cute together,” the freakishly tall boy rambles, making a gesture out of Jay’s line of sight that signals to Sunghoon that Jay is crazy. The alcohol has made you basically nonverbal at this point, and you just let Riki explain your lore to the hot new member of your racing crew. Hopefully Sunghoon doesn’t remember any of it in the morning.“It’s kind of about time that noona gets a new boyfriend. Personally, though, me and Yunie-hyung are on Team San.”

“Isn’t that up to her though?” Sunghoon muses. “Like, why does it matter if she’s single or dating around?”

“Because she’s not that type of person who actually can do anything casual,” Jaeyun interjects, putting a hand over Riki’s mouth, only to pull away in disgust when Riki licks his palm. He wipes the drool off on Jay’s arm. “She just does it because she doesn’t want to get too close to anyone who isn’t us. So it’s a vicious cycle. She says she’s healing, but she can’t fully heal the part of her that was wounded because she needs to be in a relationship with someone who will be patient with her and prove her wrong. Someone who will help her finally get over… him.”

“I figured, from what you told me before,” Sunghoon says quietly to your supposed best friend. He’s not really being much of a best friend now, you think, even though everything he’s said is both correct and true.

This piques your interest. Your index finger circles around the rim of the open bottle of soju that you’d confiscated from Riki. “What do you know?”

“Ey, Hoon, watch what you say, I don’t want her throwing her drink at me!”

You roll your eyes and look back at Sunghoon. “Don’t listen to him. Tell me what Jaeyunie told you, and I’ll decide if I throw it at him or not.”

“Well—”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Jay says, setting down his now-empty glass of beer with a smug, victorious grin. “Well, actually, I’m not, but I texted Hyunjin back and said you’d meet him at that new fancy Italian restaurant in Gangnam on Wednesday at 7. And before you say anything, yes, you’re free that day. I checked your calendar and your emails.”

You flaked on your date with Hyunjin. To teach him a lesson, of course.

But you do start seeing more and more of Park Sunghoon as the weeks pass, what with him being a full-fledged, initiated member of Enigma now. And you hate to admit it, but he’s starting to grow on you, even though you still think he’s kind of stoic—mostly towards you. You can tell he’s softening a bit, though.

Because, truth be told, you’ve also observed him to be honest and kind and genuine, the latter the rarest thing you see amongst the racers involved in your second life who throw themselves at you like moths to a flame. He’s sincere, but he also doesn’t mince his words, so you have no choice but to take them at face value. You like watching him get along with the other boys in your life, the only ones you truly love, the ones who have done nothing but love you like a family could and couldn’t.

Riki, for one, loves to pester Sunghoon when he’s around and makes you sit and keep score for them while they play table tennis in the game room of your apartment complex. They’re both extremely competitive, and you think to yourself that Sunghoon is such a good sport even when Riki’s elaborate, well-choreographed victory dance gets too annoying even for you to tolerate. You’re pretty sure he adds a new move every single time he does it.

They go to the gym on days where Riki’s done with class early enough to beat rush-hour, and they bring you along for dinner afterwards if you feel like coming. Riki’s now got a debt to pay to you, on account of you wrapping his GT-R in a metallic oil-slick color. You and Sunghoon chose it together, because no one else was replying to you in the group chat. Sunghoon even helped you install it, if helping you meant feeding you dumplings from a takeout container because your hands were full with the heat gun in one and a felt-edge squeegee in the other.

For an entire weekend, he sat in your garage with you quietly, making idle conversation when the white noise would get too much for even him. He asked you about yourself, and you told him about how you met Jake in third grade, when his family moved to your hometown all the way from Australia, and how you became friends with him only because you were the only one in your class who knew how to speak decent English. (You watched a lot of American TV shows on illegal streaming sites.) In turn, you asked him if he likes his job as an investment banker, and he tells you that he wanted to be an automotive engineer when he was younger, but every man in his family works in finance and expected him to do the same.

This admission prompts you to share that you were supposed to step up and run your family’s successful chain of restaurants, but you refused to do so, choosing instead to run away with your boyfriend at the time and follow him to Seoul for the two of you to go to college. Jungwon even came with you, and you let him. Sunghoon asks you if you regret it. You say no, because, really, you don’t. But you do still have trouble sometimes trying to understand why some of the people you loved the most in this life—your mother, your father, and later on, your boyfriend—did not care if you were happy.

They only really cared that you did as you were told.

And Jay, much to your amusement, happens to be at the butt of most of Sunghoon’s teasing—whenever he’s in his extroverted mood, that is. They bicker much like Tom and Jerry, but you can tell that they get along just fine deep down. After all, Sunghoon’s been helping Jay decorate his and Jungwon’s apartment, listening (more like tolerating, if anyone were to ask you) to Jay ramble on and on about Herman Miller chairs and Noguchi lamps, and no one else can be in the same room as him when he gets like that, and that’s saying something because your apartment is also decorated in the mid-century modern style.

Jungwon sometimes tags along with them to furniture showrooms, strictly on the condition that they treat him to a meal afterwards. Sunghoon, not so surprisingly, is always the one who invites you along with them as well, ever since that first night when you complained about the boys getting milk tea without you. You wonder if it’s a pity invite, but you don’t really care much if it is, because he doesn’t seem like the type who does things he doesn’t want to do.

There was this one time two weeks ago that you came along with them to go pick out a new rug—first mistake. Your second mistake was forgetting to eat before leaving your apartment. You sat on a chair clutching your stomach with one hand, scrolling through your phone looking at the drink menus of nearby cafes with the other. Little did you know that Sunghoon, who was standing right beside you, was nosily peeking over your shoulder while also on his phone, typing in the names of whatever menu item you would pause on.

He disappeared for a few minutes after telling you he forgot something in his car. This left you to decompose in your (very cushy) chair while you listened to Jay and Jungwon argue about low-pile versus high-pile rugs. You contemplated how long it would take for them to notice that you’d passed out from hypoglycemia. But then Sunghoon returned, holding a bag from the food delivery app you all like to use. He’d nonchalantly and wordlessly taken out a peach iced tea and a sandwich to hand to you, but you looked up at him like he was God coming down to earth to save you. You thanked him profusely and he actually smiled at you, eyes crinkling up at the corners and turning into pretty crescent moon shapes.

If you didn’t already know that Jaeyun loves women, you’d think that he has a crush on Sunghoon. You seem to have lost your pet best friend to his new pet rich boy. Jaeyun loves to spend time with Sunghoon, even though he’s not at all very talkative. Regardless, every single time you come over to Yun’s apartment, Sunghoon is either already there or five or ten minutes away, depending on the day of the week and the time at which your best friend invites you over to his and Riki’s apartment.

Then the three of you, with the occasional addition of any or all of the three other Enigma boys, will inevitably order some takeout delivery and watch a film—”Not a movie,” you insist—until you inevitably start crying at the plot and say you have to go home before the boys really start making fun of you. Sunghoon always walks you to your door, even though you live just down the hall. You always tell him he doesn’t have to, but he always brushes you off and tells you to get your things so you can leave.

And one time, about a week ago, you heard him scold the other guys for being mean to you, reminding them that even though you’re technically one of the boys, you’re still a girl at heart, and they should make some effort to be nicer to you. You heard him really dig in to Jungwon in particular, and while you kind of felt the urge to come back into the room and defend him, Sunghoon told your brother to show some respect and think about all the things you’d done for him in the past seven years. So you stayed back, still in shock that Sunghoon had spoken up for you so vehemently.

Speaking of your younger brother, your precious baby all grown up, the only family you have left: Jungwon adores Sunghoon, viewing him as the older brother you wished you could have been for him. Yes, Jay and Jaeyun are literally right there, but you can tell that the connection between Jungwon and Sunghoon is different. Jaeyun is good for keeping both Jungwon and Riki out of your hair when you’re busy, and Jay indulges your brother, spoiling him every chance he can get, having no siblings of his own.

Somehow Sunghoon has gotten through to your brother in terms of his life and his career; after all, he’s close to finishing college soon and doesn’t know what he wants to do just yet. You would kill for a chance to help Jungwon, but you reckon he hasn’t come to you because he doesn't want to add to your stress and you could cry at how considerate he can be when he isn’t teasing you. You promise yourself that one of these days you’ll thank Sunghoon for his help, maybe some time after you finally admit to yourself that you were wrong about him being a prick. And maybe you’ll apologize for making assumptions about him in the first place.

Yes, you’ve been observing the way Sunghoon gets along with everyone, and you’re happy, you really are, but something is gnawing at you. While the arrival of new racers in your scene is nothing new, Enigma itself hasn’t been disrupted since Jungwon met Riki and all of that other shit went down.

More importantly, you haven't been disrupted for so long. Two years, to be exact. It’s been two years since you got your heart broken twice, and you’ve spent so long holding everyone at arm’s length away from you because you’re not too keen on ever experiencing that again. Sure, you date around, but like Jaeyun said, they don’t mean anything to you. You know what they want and it’s what you refuse to give them. And then this guy, this fucking guy with pretty brown eyes who is soft-spoken and quiet and has the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen in real life… this fucking guy comes in with the audacity to make you feel like he simultaneously likes you and wants nothing to do with you.

Although you think the latter is just a defense mechanism on your part. You’d tried to convince yourself that he only cares about you so that the boys don’t kick him out of Enigma, because if the two of you didn’t get along, there would be no way he could stay on the team. After all, you’re still their best racer, and more importantly, their best friend. But that can’t be all true, because you fight with the boys sometimes, sometimes real petty fights that end in everyone crying, and you’re still an Enigma member through and through. So telling yourself that Sunghoon secretly hates you because of your ways is a lie on your part.

Because right now, about three months after you’ve first met, when you’re at the club with the boys, there’s no way Sunghoon truly doesn’t like you. The rational part of your brain can recognize that; after all, you’ve watched him countless times coldly brush off the advances of random girls in public who see his credit card and try to take advantage of his generosity.

And you saw with your own two eyes the way he looked at you when you’d asked him if what you were wearing (a white mesh mini dress with baby pink kitten heels) was actually “too much,” and if you should go change like the others had said. You heard with your own two ears when he told you, “It is a bit much, but you look good. If there’s any trouble, don’t worry, I got you.”

It’s a good thing your face was already pink from the makeup you’d dolled yourself up with.

You never have to pay for drinks when you go out. The boys know this. You always tell them to not waste their hard-earned money—or in Jungwon’s case, your hard-earned money—on you when you can get some rich loser to buy you a bottle of Clase Azul if you bat your eyelashes at them and say you want to ring the bell.

Tonight is different, though. Usually you can score some of the top shelf shit without so much as lifting a finger, but because Sunghoon went with you to the bar, you can sense that the men in the club are not willing to put your dirty Shirley Temple on their tab. He doesn’t even have his hand around your waist, but you assume it’s the malevolent energy radiating off him in waves of expensive cologne that have people socially distancing from you like you’ve got the plague.

“Something wrong, Hoon?” you ask him innocently, swapping cocktails with him as you’ve often found yourself doing whenever the two of you are out together. It’s been a running occurrence since you’ve started joining him and the boys on their hangouts. He’ll order whatever you want to try, be it pasta or a coffee, and you can order something else you like. You sip on his Jack and Coke before making a face and taking your tequila sunrise from him.

“Do you want to wear my jacket?” he says, leaning in close so that you can hear him over the thrum of the bass-boosted music. “These creeps are staring at you too hard. It’s freaking me out. Pissing me off, really.”

You shrug. The buzz is starting to really hit you, thanks to your pregaming session at Jaeyun’s before you left for the club. “Doesn’t bother me, I’m used to it. It’s not like any of them have a chance.” You reach over and brush off invisible lint off Sunghoon’s shoulder, lingering a little longer just to feel the hard muscles underneath his clothes. “You do, though.”

He looks at you with his lips pursed in a flat line, a look he often gives Jay when Jay won’t stop pestering him. Then he takes his jacket off and drapes it over you. “Just put this on. I’ll be right back, I have to take a call.” He shows you the glowing screen of his phone, and you can read the contact name. It’s one of his bosses, and you only know this from the time he invited you to have dinner with them (and they’d pestered Sunghoon into bringing a date, since all of them are married).

You nod in understanding and nestle yourself snugly in his leather jacket, the same black-blue-white combination that he’d worn the night you first met. Idly, you sip on your drink, watching the crowd of swaying bodies underneath the colored strobe lights. In the distance, you can spot Jaeyun’s freshly bleached head of wavy hair next to Jay and Wonie, and that’s only thanks to Riki’s freakishly tall frame standing out like a cell phone tower beside them. They’re dancing with a group of girls, and you try not to gag when you see your younger brother let a girl grind up against him.

“Hey, why don’t you take this off? It’s hot enough in here because of you,” someone yells out right beside you, trying to make himself heard over the music. You turn to him, already pissed off because who the fuck says that?

“No thanks,” you say flatly. “I’m good.”

Even if you are feeling a bit hot inside the packed club, there’s something in you that wants to respect Sunghoon’s wishes while he’s gone, because you know behind his cold exterior he means well and it’s his own roundabout way of looking out for you. Either that, or he’s possessive, your delusional brain thinks, catching a whiff of his cologne in the lining of it.

“Well—”

You’re not paying attention to the douchebag beside you. You look back to the crowd and your boys have disappeared, no giant, Oreo-haired Riki to mark where they are. Suddenly, your tequila sunrise threatens to show itself in your throat. You’ve been hit on before, of course, but not like this, not this insistently. You keep your poker face on, trying to figure out how to get away from him but also avoid getting sucked in and trampled on in the giant crowd that just seems to keep doubling in size.

“Is he bothering you, sweetheart?” another voice asks.

You look to your side and he’s there, he’s back, stone-faced and radiating what you would call actual bloodlust. You nod, giving him a look that you hope Sunghoon interprets as get him the fuck away from me.

“You heard her. You’re bothering the lady,” Sunghoon says flatly to the man beside you, in such a manner that leaves no room for argument. “And not just any lady, either. That’s my girl you’re bothering. Get lost.”

You yourself shiver at his tone. You’ve gotten used to seeing the icy but gentle side of him, so this shift startles you, making goosebumps raise on your back in fear and your core clench in need. You decide not to correct Sunghoon, either. The sooner you get out of this bust of a club, the better.

An hour later, you find yourself at one of your favorite restaurants, a little barbecue spot near your apartment building that serves the best marinated galbi you’ve ever had. You’ve taken the boys there countless times, enough for them to make a joke out of it. The place is supposed to be closed right now, on account of it being one-thirty in the morning but when you were in the taxi with Jay and Sunghoon, you overheard the latter on the phone, telling the other person on the line that he’d pay triple to have the place opened for three hours past closing time of midnight.

While Jungwon talks animatedly about the girl in his class who was at the club and how he somehow managed to get her number, Sunghoon serves you before everyone else, putting the strips of grilled meat on your plate. The other boys groan at him, telling him not to indulge you too much or you’ll get used to it and always expect it, just like you’ve done to them. They don’t really mean it, because you know them well enough that they—just like Sunghoon—don’t ever really do things they don’t want to do, but deep down you still hope he doesn’t take their words seriously.

“What’s so bad about that? Ladies first,” is all he replies to them, and you feel warm inside and it’s not just the double shot of peach soju making its way through your body.

“Okay, me next,” Jaeyun says. He’s still got sweat dripping down his forehead from chasing tequila-drunk Riki and Jungwon down and dragging them both by the collars of their shirts into another taxi.

Sunghoon looks at him before passing the tongs to him. “Do it yourself.”

“Jackass.”

This makes your smile widen, giggling to yourself uncontrollably. You take delight in messing with Jaeyun, and seeing the always-stone-faced Sunghoon take part in it brings a certain joy to you that’s both unfamiliar and welcomed. You catch his eye and he sends you a wink, so fast you wouldn’t have caught it if you didn’t have the habit of staring at him when you think he isn’t paying attention to you.

“Dickhead,” Sunghoon shoots back, bushy brows furrowed so cutely that you have the tipsy urge to kiss the peachy skin between them.

“Oh, well, at least if I liked a girl, I’d tell her, so I think that makes you the dickhead and not me.” Jaeyun rolls his eyes and takes a piece of meat out of your bowl, popping it into his mouth and seemingly swallowing it whole.

You frown. “What? Sunghoon likes someone? Is it Jimin? It’s Jimin, isn’t it?”

Jungwon and Riki groan. “Great, another idiot.”

Jay points his chopsticks at your younger brothers. “Shut up and eat your food already.”

“Yes, mother,” they say in unison, digging into their bowls of kimchi fried rice. You look down at your own plate, suddenly losing your appetite. You even consider going outside for a smoke break, but that’s how the boys disappeared at the club a while ago, and it’s too late for you to be going outside alone—at least, that’s what you’re very well aware that they’d argue. Your stomach hurts at the thought of Sunghoon liking another girl, and because you’re you, because you’re almost so self-aware to the point that it could put your therapist out of a job, you know it’s because you want him to like you, and only you.

And it’s not even because you want the same control over him that you have over the likes of San and Hyunjin and Wonbin and whoever else claims to be on your sad excuse of a “roster”. It’s because you like him, and it’s to the point that the only other being who knows this for a fact is your pet cat, because only she wouldn’t accidentally tell him the truth. She’s a cat, for fuck’s sake, a cat you unfortunately named after the girl you think Sunghoon might like.

Maybe the boys have noticed. But you doubt it, because if they did, they would have teased you so mercilessly about it that it would be considered bullying that could be punishable under law. It would be so severe that you’d have no choice but to leave the country if they knew.

What they actually do though, that you’ve picked up on in recent weeks, is their new nasty habit of dropping hints about how you should be with a guy who’s cold to everyone but you. Someone who’s both pragmatic yet thoughtful, someone who always tells the truth but can do so in a way that will spare your feelings because he makes an honest effort to not sound so harsh. Someone who can both protect you and yet also be able to get you to stop when you become… “irrational” was how they put it. Someone you’re attracted to, not just physically, but emotionally, as well.

You’re not stupid, no matter how often you think you are. You know they’re talking about Sunghoon. You know Jungwon and Riki will make plans with you and him and then flake at the last minute so that you two are forced to go out together, alone. They’ve done it enough times that you know it’s bullshit that they have a school assignment due at some random time in the evening. You know Jaeyun will loudly ask Sunghoon what he thinks of a certain girl when he knows you’re within earshot. It pleases you every time Sunghoon flatly replies “What about her? I don’t know her like that.”

And you most definitely know Jay let Sunghoon take you on out to the racetrack to drive his Lamborghini for a few laps, under the guise that you’ve always wanted to go and Jay finally managed to get a slot booked on a day that he “isn’t able to make it” because of a “meeting”. Who the fuck even works on a Sunday?

You fixate on this memory for a while. You can truthfully say it was one of the happiest days of your life.

“You’re telling me you’ve never used paddle shifters before?” Sunghoon asked with a lopsided grin, pulling into the paddock of the race track. Your leg bounces in your seat, not out of anxiety like usual, but out of impatience and excitement.

“I drive stick, why the hell would I use paddle shifters? Sorry not all of us drive M Comps,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “V8 bi-turbo headass. Can’t believe you run an automatic transmission.”

“I’m ignoring that. I’ll track it first.”

“What? No way, I’ve known Jay longer!”

“You’re going to drive it like it’s a city bus. I’m going to drive it like I stole it. You can sit there and look pretty first, then you can have a turn.”

“Sunghoon, if you’re just going to stare at me, you’re going to crash us into a wall.”

“Nah, my peripheral vision’s pretty good. Why, you don’t trust me?”

You sighed. You do trust him, that’s what bothers you.

Ultimately, the idea of Sunghoon liking another girl makes you a little… irritated. That’s actually a gross understatement, if you’re being honest. You can feel the dragon’s head of your jealous streak rise up from the ashes where it had once laid dormant, asleep. It wants to breathe fire. It wants to get a rise out of him. It wants to see his reaction.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on whose side you’re on, your best friend knows you too well.

“Y/N, can you pass the salt?” Jaeyun, who is sitting to your left, asks. The salt pot is right next to Riki, who is sitting to your right.

Taking this as your opportunity, you look at him, tilting your head before you say the exact line that, by now, everyone knows that Sunghoon likes to use. “Say please.”

Jaeyun is too intoxicated to fight back, but he knows you well enough even in his inebriated state that he knows exactly what you’re doing. “Please?”

“Okay,” you answer, reaching across Riki’s plate to grab the salt. When you hand it to Jaeyun, his fingers linger on yours way too long to be respectable. There’s nothing there, of course. It just feels normal, no spark, no giddy, lovesick warmth. He’s just being outright obvious.

Picking up on your scheme, Jay chimes in, a malicious glint in his eye that only comes out after you can smell the alcohol on his breath. You see him elbow Jungwon at the end of the table—quite subtly, to his credit. “Ew, what are you two doing? That’s gross, get a room.”

Jaeyun rolls his eyes, giving Jay the middle finger. Oh, he’s playing up the dramatics of your ploy to see if Sunghoon cares or not. This is what being friends with him for pretty much your entire life is all about. “Can’t a guy and a girl be best friends? Chill, bro.”

“Guys and girls can’t just be best friends,” Jungwon adds, his mouth full of rice and barbecue. “That’s such a lie. You don’t see me with a girl best friend, because if I had one, I’d be fu—”

Sunghoon’s knee hits the bottom of the table, causing everyone to jump back in surprise. “Sorry, guys.” He looks at you, staring at him wide-eyed. “And lady. Leg cramp.” He gets up from the table and excuses himself to go pay the bill, talking with the older woman who runs the restaurant and who you know is madly in love with him (much to everyone’s amusement).

“Alright, what’s going on here?” Jay asks in a hushed tone, dropping his smirk and leaning forward. “What are we doing to him?”

“Forcing Sunghoon to confess,” Jaeyun answers back, switching to English so only the three of you can understand.

You look at him quizzically, but you speak to him and Jay in English anyways. “Wait, what? I just wanted to make him jealous, what are you talking about—”

“Alright!” Sunghoon says loudly from behind you. “Time to go.”

Exchanging looks with your best friends, you collect your things from where they rest on the worn leather seats of the booth. “I’m gonna take a walk first,” you say. “Anyone wanna join?”

“Nah,” Jaeyun answers. “I’m beat. Gonna take the little ones home.”

“Whoooo the fuck are y-you… callin’ little,” Riki slurs, slumped over a sleepy Jungwon’s shoulder. You know your brother is in a food-and-alcohol-induced coma, since he says nothing about the drool Riki’s getting all over his unbuttoned shirt. “Fuckin’ Oompa Loompa.”

“Riks,” you sigh, getting up on your tip-toes to push his sweat-soaked hair from his face. “Be nice to your Yunie hyung.”

“S-sorry noona,” he hiccups, putting more of his weight on Jungwon, who yelps. “I’ll be nice.”

You shoot Jaeyun a warning look, telling him not to egg on the poor boy who looks like he might throw up in his sleep later. “You guys gonna be okay going home?”

“Yeah, bro, it’s only like a block away,” Jay interjects, prying Riki off of Jungwon and hoisting him onto his own back. Jaeyun takes your brother in his hold, grimacing at the skin-to-skin contact of Jungwon’s bare chest on his fingers. “Go take your little walk. Text us when you’re back.”

“Yes, mother, I promise.” You can feel Sunghoon looming over you like a skyscraper. Without turning to him, you ask, “Are you coming with me?”

“Well,” he answers, his huffed breath blowing over your head in cigarette smoke. “Obviously. I’m not letting you go alone.”

“Okay, I guess,” you mutter with the same tone, shivering to yourself. The air is surprisingly cold for the beginning of June, and you’re dejectedly starting to regret your outfit.

And of course, like clockwork, Park Sunghoon notices your discomfort and quietly puts his jacket over you for the second time that night.

“Thank you.” Your voice comes out in a whisper. He acknowledges you with a soft hum, matching your stride as you cross the empty road to the little park nestled behind the flowering trees.

You continue to walk, trying to think, but it’s difficult to burn off the rest of the alcohol and gain some clarity when the man you’re thinking about is right beside you. You would kill to read his mind. You could just ask him, straight up. It shouldn’t be too hard, right? What’s the worst thing he could say? That he doesn’t have feelings for you? That he sees you as a sister? That he actually does like Jimin like that?

Fuck.

You finally admit to yourself that you do like him. You do like him, you do want him, you do feel those things genuinely and not out of greed, not out of wanting to make him one of your trained dogs, not out of wanting to punish your ex through him.

You… you fucking like him, and it pisses you off. Him, of all people. Liking Jaeyun seems less complicated than this. You know for a fact that Sunghoon is quite possibly the king of hard-to-get. Kazuha and Yunjin, the race girls from AZ, both made a move on him and ended up fighting over him for nothing (which your own girlfriends clowned on them mercilessly for, while you sat back and watched rather smugly). He didn’t even give them the time of day, let alone his phone number.

Minjeong, your beloved work wife, wanted to test that theory and when you’d left them during dinner one time to go use the restroom, she tried to flirt with him. She ended up meeting you in the restroom with a smirk, telling you that he’s impossible to break. She’d even asked you if you considered the fact that maybe he likes men.

Intrigued, you’d “innocently” asked Jaeyun and Riki, of all people, to get you the answer. Eager to please, and glad that they had some new bullshit to do, they came back to you after three hours of pestering Sunghoon at the gym during their workout. They’d reported that they annoyed him so bad he left them at the gym, forcing them to take the train back home.

That night, he texted the group chat “Not gay. Waiting for my wife” and nothing else.

A big shock to the rest of you, to say the least. The boys were busy laughing at the first sentence, while you were fixated on the latter half of his text. His wife. What a strong choice of words, you’d thought. But it was a good thing, too, that he knows what he wants. At least one of you does. A wife. That’s more definite than just wishing to feel safe and secure around other people.

“Did you eat well?” Sunghoon pipes up, finally breaking the chilly silence between the two of you.

“I did,” you reply curtly, now doing your best to match his pace. It’s hard. His legs are so long, with equally long strides, but you push yourself in your heels anyways. “Did you?”

“Yeah. Why do you always flirt back?” Sunghoon asks. He sounds like he’s been holding that in for a while.

“What? Are you talking about Jaeyunie?”

He grimaces. “No. I know that was just him being him. I’m talking about the others. That Wonbin guy. San hyung. Hyunjin hyung. Whoever the fuck. Them.”

You stop walking, and so does he. He turns around to face you as you incredulously ask, “So suddenly? Why? Does it matter?”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes at you. That’s the first time you’ve ever elicited that reaction from him, and it hurts a little. “Yeah, it does. You’re making them think they have a chance with you.”

“Okay, so what?” you say harshly. Really, why does it matter to him? He likes Jimin, doesn’t he? Why is what you do any of his business?

“Well, do they?”

“No!” you snap, hands on your hips. The sound of your voice, echoing through the deserted metal playground, startles the both of you. “None of it is ever serious with them! Men are dogs, anyways!”

“Meow.”

You look at the tall man in disbelief. Under the glow of the lampposts, he looks both sinful and heavenly. Even if he’s pissing you off like never before. Blinking—too shocked to laugh—you ask, “Did you just meow at me, Park Sunghoon?”

“Yeah. Because I’m not a dog, and I’ll prove it to you,” he answers, thick arms crossed over his broad, sturdy chest.

“Why bother doing that? Why does my opinion of you matter to you? It’s none of your business what I think. So why?”

He scoffs. But he can’t seem to meet your eyes. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

Oh, you’re so annoyed. Why now, of all times, can he not be direct with you? Or is this how he actually is? Has he been pretending to be genuine this whole time? No, that can’t be. People usually can’t keep a facade up for that long without slipping up in between, unless they're sociopaths, serial killers, or both. “No, tell me why. I want to hear it from you. You and your stupid… your stupid… stupid, pretty mouth.”

“Did you just call my mouth pretty?”

“Answer the question, Park Sunghoon!”

He glares at you, but it’s not menacing. After what seems like hours, he sighs, turning away. Then he quietly says, “I love the way you love.”

You realize now that the entire time you’ve been watching Sunghoon, he’s been watching you, too.

“What… what do you mean?”

“The way you care about them. The others… The way you look out for them. For Jungwonie and Riki, always making sure they’ve eaten and they rest enough for school, and that they’re on top of their studies. Jay, you always scold him for working too much. And Jaeyunie, you get worried when he’s not home by a certain time… I realize now that you might not have space in your heart for me. And I should accept that no matter what I do, I’ll always just be another one of your dogs.”

“Sunghoon, what—”

He shakes his head, which hangs low in something you think must be shame. His bangs cover his eyes, so you can’t get a read on him unless you brush them out of his face. And with what he’s just said, you don’t think that now is the best time to touch him. “No. We’re not going to talk about this tonight. Or ever again. I can promise you that. Now come on. I’ll walk you home and we can pretend like this never happened.”

Back in your apartment, you lay in bed, wishing that there was still enough alcohol in your system to put your restless mind to sleep. But there isn’t, not after you walked it all off with an awkwardly silent Sunghoon escorting you back to your apartment. You’d offered your couch for him to sleep on—not out of pity, you’d told him. Out of worry. The trains had stopped running and there were no taxis coming to your side of town anytime soon.

He looked like he really wanted to stay. But for whatever reason, he shook his head at you again, told you it was okay, and said he’d walk home.

You’d texted him to keep you updated on where he was. He didn’t reply. You just got a single notification that “Park Sunghoon has started sharing locations with you,” and that was that. No actual message from him. You share yours right back, telling yourself that it’s fine, all the other Enigma boys had your location, too. But you know the truth.

Sitting up, you reach for your phone and your purse, fishing out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, both of which you’d stolen from Jaeyun. He would steal them back from you very soon, anyways, what with him sharing one singular, pitiful peach blueberry ice-flavored vape between himself, Jungwon, and Riki.

Your cat follows you curiously as you walk into the living room and slide the glass door to the balcony open. She curls up in your lap when you sit down on the rocking chair, just as she always does when you come out to smoke.

“You know this is bad for you, right?” you joke quietly, scratching her head with the hand not holding a cigarette. “You should be inside, breathing the purified air I pay good money for.”

Mrrow.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I should stop. But you should be proud of me. I don’t even do it that often.” That’s actually the truth. You and the boys all say that drunk cigarettes don’t count, and you can’t call yourself a smoker if you only go through one pack every two weeks at the very least. By Seoul nightlife standards, your lungs are healthy. “You can hiss about it to your Jaeyunie-oppa.”

Meow.

“Okay, Jiji. Whatever you say.” You take a long drag before pulling away, flicking the ash onto the ceramic tray that Riki brought back for you as a souvenir the last time he went home to Japan. “Fuck, I really do like him. Sunghoon. Not Yunie, ew.”

Mah?

“Because… because… I just do. He’s so… he’s so not like… you know. Heeseung.”

Your cat stiffens on your lap at the mention of your ex’s name. You laugh to yourself, knowing that there’s no one in this world she despises more than him.

“He’s not… he actually cares about me. He doesn’t have to tell me; I don’t even have to ask him if he does. I see it now. And it’s different from how he cares about the boys. I know it’s not just because I’m the only girl. I’ve seen the way he treats other girls. So… he probably doesn’t like Jimin, huh?”

Jiji perks up at the mention of her full government name, but then looks at you as if to say, are you fucking stupid?

“Yeah, I am, haven’t you noticed? I talk to you all the fucking time.”

Aaow.

“No, I don’t just like him because I get preferential treatment. I just—he never does anything to stress me out. I know he considers my feelings, I mean, fuck, he always tells Jaeyunie and Jungwonie to stop making fun of me when we’re hanging out, and, like, he’s always doing shit for me without me having to ask him or even hint at it. He just… he does it because he wants to? And being around him makes me calm. And he’s strong. And he’s kind, and he doesn’t brag about all the nice fucking things he does for everyone, for me… And… and…”

You lose your momentum as your face begins to sting, tears welling up in your eyes. You can hear the pain in Sunghoon’s voice when he said he’d “always just be one of your dogs” echoing in your head.

“And he doesn’t lie.”

Lying is something you’ve always had a hard time stomaching. As a child, you were taught that it was better to tell the truth and be punished once than to get caught in a lie and get punished twice. You don’t feel good when you lie. Not even when they’re little white lies, like the one you told Hyunjin about Jungwon being sick when you’d flaked on your date with him.

So when you’d found out that Kim Sunoo, Jungwon’s best friend since literal birth, had been helping Heeseung hide his secret relationship with Sunoo’s own cousin, Chaewon—and had been accepting money from Heeseung to help him keep that secret—you lost your fucking mind.

You’d been through everything with your boyfriend. You abandoned your family for him. You moved to a new city with him. You slept on the floor of a shitty apartment for months with him, while Jungwon was stuck in the dorms of his university with three other roommates. You took home leftovers from the restaurant you worked at all throughout college to feed yourself and your brother.

All of that which you endured, just to find out that everything was a lie.

Heeseung didn’t love you as much as he said he did. Because if he did, he would never have gone behind your back with someone else for months and had the nerve to kiss you with the same mouth he used to lie to you.

Sunghoon doesn’t lie, you tell yourself.

He’s not him, he’s not him, he’s not him.

And it’s a good thing. It’s a very good thing.

Sunghoon, for as long as you’ve known him, always keeps his promises. But you also hope that he breaks that last promise he made to you.

You don’t make any appearance at the next race, which is a week later. You purposefully ignore the group chat when they ask you where you are, if you’re coming to watch Riki beat Shotaro and get his revenge for the last time they’d raced against each other.

They get the message—or lack thereof—loud and clear, and leave you alone. You’re grateful that they don’t pry, although Jaeyun texts you separately to scold you about “making Hoonie sad”. You reply to him with the middle finger emoji, even though you know he’s right. For once, at least.

You get texts from Jimin, Soyeon, and Aeri in the racer girls’ group chat, all of them pouting about how you’re not going to see Jimin and Soyeon race against each other in their newly-modified cars. You apologize and wire Aeri a million Won, telling her to place a bet on your behalf for Riki to win in his race. You stop replying when Jimin and Soyeon get on your ass for not being able to choose between who between the two of them would win.

Minjeong had said something to you at work a couple days ago that made your stomach not be able to stop hurting since. Because she’s the most neutral-territory friend you have, you told her exactly what happened between you and Sunghoon, not sparing any detail—not even the thing he’d said to you that made you feel like a monster.

“You can’t build a new house with the bricks from the last one and expect it to be different.”

She’d said it so casually, like she’d read it off the subject line off the first email in her inbox, but it struck you so hard, hammering in what Jay told you the first night you met Sunghoon. To stop taking out your pain on every man that tried to come your way after Heeseung.

In your defense, again, it wasn’t like they were truly serious about you, anyways. Except Sunghoon, who refused to play your games and refused to flirt back with you whenever you’d try to make a pass at him.

It was your automatic distrust of him that brought you here, sulking at home, feeling helpless beyond your control. What made it worse was that Sunghoon definitely knew why you are the way you are, what with Jaeyun’s big fat ginormous mouth being unable to stop itself from spilling all the gory details of your past to him before you two had even met.

There’s a knock at your door. You find that odd; everyone should be out on the road right about now. You check your friends’ locations on your phone to see who could possibly be in your building right now.

You see Sunghoon’s contact photo right above the glowing blue dot that signifies where you are.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“Y/N?” he calls out, muffled by the thick wood of your front door. You turn to Jji, who is looking at you curiously.

“Go, bedroom.”

Obediently, your cat runs to your room, and you can tell she uses her back legs to kick it shut behind her by the way it closes softly. It’s a trick that Jungwon and Riki spent an entire week of their summer vacation last year teaching her to do, and this is the first time it’s ever been useful.

You check yourself in the mirror in the entryway to make sure you look at least somewhat presentable. You’re wearing Aeri’s light pink sweatpants and a massive white t-shirt you’re pretty sure Riki left in your car once and completely forgot about. You shrug. It’ll have to do.

You open the door. Your voice comes out harsher than you intend it to. “What are you doing here, Sunghoon?”

The man flinches almost imperceptably, but the glimpse of it still has your heart twisting in your chest. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry I hurt you. It’s not a question of if I hurt you or not with what I said, because I know I did.”

You purse your lips, trying to process the fact that he’s apologizing to you without you having to prompt him for it. “Oh…”

He continues shakily. “I realized that I didn’t tell you the truth. The full truth. I like you, I really do. Like, not just as a friend, you know. I like you like… that. Fuck, sorry, I’ve never had to do this before.”

You smile at him softly, looking up at him. The light in the hallway illuminates the crown of his head like a halo, making him look more ethereal than he usually is. “Never?”

“Yeah, never. It’s usually the other way around, but I caved this time.” He sighs. “You’re a special girl. You don’t know what you’ve done to me.”

You shrug. “Oh, I think I have some idea.”

“Meaning?”

“I thawed you out, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you really did. So—”

“Just come in,” you say, stepping aside to make room for him. “Sorry, I don’t have anything to offer you besides water or strawberry milk, but we can go raid Jay’s fridge. I have a key.”

He laughs. “That’s okay. I can order takeout for us.”

“What’s behind your back?”

He holds up a bundle wrapped in clean white paper. “I brought these for you. They’re not, um… they’re not really ‘I’m sorry’ flowers so much as they are ‘will you go out on a date with me?’ flowers.”

“Roses,” you muse, taking the bouquet from him. The arrangement is simple yet stunning, with various shades of muted pink that you realize are quite similar to the color of your Supra. “How original.” You pause, your voice softening. “But thank you, though, really. They’re beautiful.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “I wanted to get you lilies, but I learned that they’re toxic to cats.”

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. He’s so considerate, he even thought of that. Is there anything that he doesn’t think about? Is this what he does when he zones out? “Who told you that I have a cat?”

“You mentioned it a few times,” he answers softly, like he’s reminding you to breathe. “Like that one time Riki made us take him to the arcade and spent too much money trying to win the stuffed… whatever that was from the claw machine.”

“Hm. I did, huh?”

“Yeah... So can I see it?”

“My cat? That’s a little forward, don’t you think? Aren’t we moving too fast?”

“Your pet cat, you brat.” His grin is wide, though, as he looks down at you adoringly.

“Oh! Oh, yeah, duh.” You take your phone out and swipe through your camera roll until you come across a picture of your white ragdoll cat, her pretty blue eyes staring at you much in the same manner that Sunghoon is right now. “This is her. Her name’s Jimin… erm, yeah, like the one we know… but I call her Jiji.”

“She’s cute… she kinda looks like you, hm? Is she not here right now?” he asks, scanning your living room. “Is she okay?”

“Oh, I sent her to my room before I answered the door—she doesn’t really like guys except for Wonie and Riki but I think it’s because she thinks they’re her servants. And, uh, also, I don't know if you're okay with cats.”

“Ah. I like cats, don’t worry. I’d love to meet her if that’s okay with you.”

“She might scratch you, though. Just a warning.”

“Yeah, that’s okay. You’d bandage me up, though, right?” When he smiles at you reassuringly, your heart thrums. You don't hear any innuendo in his voice, nothing that suggests that he expects something more from you. Turning away to hide your blushing face, you mumble a “yes” and make a beeline to your room to retrieve Jiji.

You get to the door and open it. She’s standing right in front of you, looking at you expectantly, as if she's asking you where Sunghoon is.

“In the living room,” you answer. You’re talking to your fucking cat. What’s new? Jiji struts right past you, her tail flicking against your ankles, and trots to the living room.

You follow her from a distance and watch as she pauses in front of Sunghoon, who extends a hand down for her to sniff at.

“Hello, Jiji,” he says softly. “Nice to meet you.”

The cat chirps at him, and your eyes widen. Usually, she greets males (mostly your ex and his friend) other than your boys with something akin to a hiss that sounds like slicing someone’s tires open. Sometimes she swats at them, claws out and everything. But she hesitates for a second before butting her little head into Sunghoon’s palm, eyes closed and purring up a storm much like the way she does when she wants you to give her a treat.

“Wow,” you remark. “She likes you. A lot.”

Sunghoon hums in agreement before saying, “Yeah. Wonder what her mommy thinks of me, though. And if she’ll go on a date with me.”

You blush yet again. He’s certainly dialing up the charm tonight. Mustering up the courage to flirt back, you reply, “I think… yeah, her mommy likes you too. And I think she will go out with you.”

“Mm.” He pets Jiji’s head, scratching between her ears which prompts your cat to roll over and expose her soft belly to him for him to rub. Whore, you think to yourself, as if you wouldn’t have done the same thing. “That’s good. I’m glad. Actually—scratch that. I’m relieved.”

By now you’re very well-acquainted to the way he speaks, straight to the point without very much embellishing in his sentences. At least it’s not hard to guess what he’s thinking. He doesn’t talk with the intent to deceive or play games, and, quite frankly, you adore that about him.

“I don’t just want you to care about me. I want you to let me care about you,” he says suddenly, looking up at you with round, sparkling eyes. He’s being forthcoming and earnest. Enthusiasm suits him well, you think. It makes his face look younger, softer, happier. “I want to earn your trust. I want you to feel safe with me.”

“I already do, though,” you reply, voice quiet as if you don’t want to jinx it somehow.

He gives you a nod of acknowledgement. “I know. But I want to be the one you come to for everything. For anything at all.”

“But—”

“You’d never be a burden to me,” he adds. “You couldn’t, even if you tried.”

There’s still enough time for you to go watch the final event of tonight’s race, the showdown between Riki and Shotaro. You hurriedly fix your hair and throw on a jacket, not caring about how your outfit looks because, frankly, you’re not interested in showing off tonight. You know for certain now that the only person whose attention you’ve wanted has been yours all along.

When you arrive, you can see that the Enigma boys are all circled around what you assume is Riki’s GT-R, only because you can see the underglow bouncing off everyone’s shoes. Leave it to your youngest to be annoying as usual.

You get out of Sunghoon’s car and head over to them, him following closely behind you. You pinch Jaeyun’s forearm and he immediately steps to the side to let you through so you can see what’s going on.

The engine hood is up, and you can see someone’s legs sticking out from under the car.

“What’s going on?” you ask no one in particular.

“Well… Riki fucking forgot to change his oil today, and the jack broke halfway, so none of us can fit under there… except Ning,” Jungwon answers.

“Ning?” you repeat.

“Yeah. The girl I’ve been seeing…” he mumbles. “You know, the one from school.”

Your heart drops at the idea that you’ve been so caught up in your own angst that you haven’t bothered to keep up with anyone else’s life, especially your own brother’s. “Oh. I see. She knows cars, huh?”

“Well,” Riki shrugs. “I guess. Jungwonie-hyung gave her the worst instructions on how to change this shitbox’s oil, and she’s doing it just fine, so she must be smart.”

Before Jungwon can even reach Riki, Sunghoon grabs him by the collar of his shirt, holding him back. “Chill out, bro.”

Jungwon glares at the taller man. “Hey, just because my sister thinks you’re hot doesn’t mean—”

“Good lord,” Jay groans. “Can we please have five minutes of peace so I can start this race? I want to go home already. I can feel my bed calling me.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon snickers. “It’s calling you to wash the damn sheets, you slob.”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing. Shaking your head, you approach Ning, who’s just rolled out from underneath the GT-R.

“Surprised you didn’t go blind in there,” you say, helping her up. “Riki’s lights are no joke.”

She smiles at you, shaking her head. “Actually, it helped, I could barely see anything down there, it was all covered in brake dust.”

This makes everyone burst out into laughter, mocking Riki for poorly maintaining his car. You roll your eyes, taking the wrench from Ning. You turn to Sunghoon.

“Hoon, can you help me with this? I think we’re gonna need more than an oil change to win tonight.”

“Hey!” Riki exclaims. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Language, young man,” you snap back at him before looking at Sunghoon. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Headlight air intake?” he asks, a smile forming on his plush lips.

You grin. “Headlight air intake.”

“Oh, you guys are officially fucking crazy,” Jay whistles, admiring your handiwork when you’re done. With Sunghoon’s help, you’d removed one of Riki’s precious LED headlights to allow more airflow into the engine, enabling him to push the car harder without fear of overheating. “Poor Taro isn’t gonna know what hit him.”

“This is legitimately worse than the time Y/N Viper-swapped her Supra,” Jaeyun giggles, clapping his hands together in glee. “Ooh, everyone’s so fucked. They’re lucky she doesn’t drive with a missing headlight, too.”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Sunghoon jokes. “She can barely see at night as it is.”

“Oh,” you flirt back, “Is that why I think you’re more handsome in the daytime?”

Riki and Jungwon fake gagging noises behind you, but you smile.

“We’re making it out of the hood tonight, boys!” Riki hollers from his position at the finish line. Jungwon is beside him, at the wheel of his 350z. To Jungwon’s other side is Shotaro, looking annoyed. You can see him glare a hole into the back of Riki’s head as he walks behind your brother and his friend.

“Since when was Itaewon considered the hood?” you call back at him. Everyone laughs.

You see Jaeyun whisper something into Jimin’s ear, and she giggles. Meanwhile, Jay, awkward as he can be sometimes, plants a kiss on Aeri’s forehead. “Is it fucking cuffing season or something?” you mutter under your breath, thinking it was low enough that no one hears your annoyance.

“Us next,” Sunghoon responds cooly from behind you, draping an arm over your shoulder. “How’s that sound?”

“Holy shit,” Riki gasps, dramatically putting a hand over his mouth. “Sunghoon-hyung’s—”

“Got some serious rizz,” Jungwon finishes. “And if it weren’t directed towards noona, I’d cheer him on.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Won, you act like you haven’t wanted them together since you first met him.”

Jungwon pouts cutely and shrugs. “Yeah, yeah. It’s more fun to pretend to be an opp, though.”

You glare at your brother. “Wanna see a real opp? I’ll tell Ning that you like to—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He turns to Sunghoon. “Hyung, did you know that noona sometimes drools in her sleep?”

“I do.”

“WHAT?” the boys chorus like they’re in a cartoon.

Sunghoon looks at them with pure curiosity. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I know? She fell asleep and drooled all over my arm when we watched Interstellar for the fifth time.”

“Sunghoon!” you squeal. “You’re not supposed to tell them that happened!”

“Wait, fifth?” Jaeyun asks, hands sassily placed on his hips. “We’ve only watched it four times.”

You and Sunghoon exchange a look, your face heating up. “Well, uh…”

“Nevermind that,” Jay interrupts, his arm around Aeri’s waist. “We know you two hang out without us. Jaeyunie’s just fucking with you.”

“Yeah,” Riki agrees. “In fact, we want you guys to hang out without us.”

You look at Ning, rolling your eyes. “See what you’re getting into?”

She gives you a warm smile. “I don’t mind.”

park sunghoon: We’re still on for our date tonight, yes?

you: yeah! what are we doing?? i can pick a spot if you don’t have anything in mind

park sunghoon: None of that from you, princess. Just be ready by 7, I’ll pick you up. Our reservation is at 7:30. I already made sure you’d like the restaurant and you can wear that black dress you bought last week.

… Princess?

you: how…?

park sunghoon: Well, I know what food you like because we’ve gone out to eat so many times. And also, I saw you post the dress on your story when you tried it on in the fitting room, so I figured you got it.

park sunghoon: Before you get upset thinking I’m controlling what you wear, I’m not. I know you have a hard time choosing your outfits (even though they’re all very nice) and the dress looked lovely on you.

He’s trying to make your life easier. You smile to yourself, face going hot. You bite your knuckles to keep yourself from screaming at your desk.

you: oh… okay!

you: i’ll see you later hoon :)

park sunghoon: Can’t wait. Have a great day at work, beautiful.

God, you want to throw your phone across the office with how giddy you are. You finish work early by skipping your lunch break, and you go home at 2:30 in the afternoon, thanks to Minjeong excitedly whisper-yelling at you that she’ll cover for you and to “Go get some dick, girl!” and smacking your ass as you scurried to the elevator. When you arrive home, you immediately run to your bathroom and turn on the shower. You’ve got music blasting from your speaker while you wash your hair and shave and scrub down your entire body. You’re smiling at yourself in the mirror while you dry your hair and do your skincare routine, and you’ve still got a good four hours to get all dressed up for your first real, official date in years.

taglist: @enha-stars @karinasbaby @venomhee @lilifiedeans @sngleehee @hoonfr @seuomo @en-verse @starfallia @eloelooo @lhspeachie @idkdykilr @seochannnn @moon368 @capri-cuntz @p-d1ddy @xxbluestrifexx @p4ranormaluv @laurradoesloveu

#🀄️ssv #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader smut #sunghoon fic #sunghoon angst #i hate tagging things #enhypen smut

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moonlight-alexia · 3 days ago

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Starfish and Caitlin comforting Katie after the lose to Slovenia on Facetime.

not really posting/writing atm but i couldn't not do this one <3 so pls enjoy i really hope you do

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

gentle connection ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

‘Mammy!’ You exclaimed when you saw your mammy’s face through the screen of your mummy’s phone. You were on camp with your mummy and you tried to talk to your mammy whenever you got the chance. But mostly you were out like a light from running around with Harper and the other Australia girls all day.

‘Starfish, inside voice remember,’ Your mummy reminded you, you hadn’t had a big day like the last few so you were excited that you were able to talk to your mammy.

Caitlin had called Katie a bit earlier while Alanna and Kyra were distracting you so your mummy could comfort your mammy a little. They were both lucky, you understood emotions and what other people needed often but sometimes they still need those moments just the two of them.

‘Hi mammy,’ You whispered, giving a little wave to Katie who was on the other side of the phone.

‘Hi my little Starfish,’ Katie smiled softly, giving you a little wave back. Seeing you, even if it was through a screen, made Katie’s day a lot better. Your mammy, not that she would really admit it, had been missing you a bit more this camp. A lot for her to adjust to and if it wasn’t for Australia’s kit debut, you would’ve been there with her instead. Something that Caitlin now felt a little guilty about now after seeing how deflated Katie was.

You sat in your mummy’s lap, her arms wrapped around your waist while you happily talked your mammy’s ear off. It wasn’t often Katie was this quiet, but she was more than happy to listen to everything you’d been up to right now. The first time you’d been away from your mammy where you’d barely been able to talk to her, and listening to you talk, the familiarity helped your mammy.

‘I’m having lots of fun mammy, but I miss you and counting down the days til ‘m home with you,’ Your voice trailed off, you were observant, your mums knew that but they often forgot just how observant and in tune with others you were, that it might become a problem for you later on.

But now, you gave your mammy a small smile while she told you how much she misses you and can’t wait til you’re all home again, ‘Mummy,’ Your voice cut through the little silence that had floated between the three of you, you turned your head looking at Caitlin. Your mummy hummed a little in acknowledgment, ‘Can I talk to mammy, just me and mammy please,’

Caitlin smiled and placed you down in the middle of the bed, making sure you were all comfy against the pillows. There used to be times Caitlin would feel a tinge of insecurity if you’d want to just talk to your mammy. Perfectly normal, not feeling like she was integrating well into yours and Katie’s dynamic, but she was long over that and enjoyed seeing that bond you had with your mammy, ‘I’ll be right across with Kenzie if you need me,’

Your mummy placed a kiss against your forehead before leaving you and your mammy alone. You yawned a little, Katie almost jumping in to suggest you having a little sleep while she stayed on the phone with you, but your voice stopped her before she could say anything, ‘Mummy said you might be a bit sad, you’re more quiet,’

Katie gave you a small smile, they tried to be as open with their feelings with you in hopes that when you’d feel safe enough to talk to them about your feelings, ‘It’s been a hard day Starfish. A big loss but seeing you now makes it all better,’

Your little eyebrows furrowed while you were thinking, ‘Y’know mammy, mummy lost big too. Yous are the same!’ Katie smiled, a little laugh at the way your eyes lit up when you’d made the connection. Your mummy’s games hadn’t been going all that well either.

‘I guess we are, aren’t we,’ You were happy that you could get a little laugh from your mammy, your efforts to comfort her you believed to have succeeded. You tried to not think too much so you wouldn’t accidentally frown and worry your mammy, but you were starting to realise how hard it was when you were away from either of your mums when they were upset. Wishing they could be happy all the time and never sad.

‘Gonna give you a hug mammy,’ You held the phone against your chest. Katie smiled and, even though you couldn’t see, she held her phone against her chest. To anyone else it might seem strange but to Katie it was really comforting, even though the slight ache in her chest wishing that it was real.

‘I love you Starfish, you give the best hugs,’ Soon enough you’d be home and able to give your mammy a real hug.

#woso x reader #katie mccabe x reader #caitlin foord x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso community #katie mccabe imagine #katie mccabe #caitlin foord imagine #caitlin foord #auswnt #auswnt x reader #irewnt #ireland wnt

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gay-dorito-dust · 3 days ago

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Could I request some platonic batboys comforting their bestie after the bestie has to break up with someone? Going through it rn </3

I got you! Fuck your ex partner if they were a dick to you, fuck them for breaking your heart and you will come out of this with a healed heart and a sense of self because you deserve everything and everything! I also added Bruce as a bonus.

Dick would have you come over to his house, saying that Hayley was ready to also help you heal pass this relationship, all the while putting the dog into your lap and encouraging you to cuddle the blue staffy because Hayley was there to provide extra comfort beside him.

Dick had been through relationships himself and would offer the most advice to you in your time of need the best out of all the boys, he understands how your feeling in the moment, as if your life was coming to an end but he would remind you that’s not the case and that you were just not use to being independent.

‘You might feel like you’re dying right now, but you won’t feel that for long.’ He says as he rests a hand on your shoulder. ‘you’ve just grown a custom to being with someone that being without them feels as though you can’t function but I’m here to tell you that you can. You were independent before and you’ll be independent again. So I wouldn’t fret about things that’ll soon become irrelevant.’ He adds as he presses you against his side, kissing your forehead like he always did when he needed to calm your racing mind.

‘Okay?’ He asks as he looks you in the eye, smiling. ‘We’ll take care of you won’t we Hayley?’ He then looks at his dog who had long fallen asleep on your lap, letting out a little snort as you both laughed at the cuteness of Hayley and the hilarity of the moment. Dick would make sure that you were getting out and would have you come on walks with him and Hayley, or just getting coffee together, anything he can do in order to help you realise that just because your relationship didn’t work out it didn’t mean that you have to give up being happy all tighter.

You can be happy on your own as you can be happy in a relationship, you’ve just gotta find the right people to be happy independent alongside with.

Jason would also solicit similar advice as Dick, seeing as he’s been in a few relationships himself, telling you that you might feel as though you’ve lost apart of yourself but in reality it was you hiding that part of yourself in fear of your true self being rejected.

‘Such isn’t what a relationship should be, you should see each other for your best and worst, not just one or the other and you should feel comfortable being yourself with them too.’ He says to you as he throws his arm over your shoulder as you both overlooked Gotham together becuase you couldn’t enjoy the stars with all the light pollution. ‘You’ll get back up on your feet sooner or later but for now eat your food before it goes cold.’ He then scolds as he gestures to the food he had made for you before dragging you to the rooftops for fresh air.

He wants the bash the idiots head in, but he knew you needed a shoulder to cry on right now and that’s what Jason will do, for you were in a vulnerable headspace and were prone to doing stupid stuff; and Jason felt it was his duty to make sure you took care of yourself properly and would do things that you didn’t or couldn’t do if the breakup hit your mental health hard.

Jason would make sure that you and your ex’s paths never cross as he acts as a blockade between you both, having much against the ex for being a uncaring bastard for hurting you while making sure your day went by undisturbed by anything or anyone. He’s looking out for you and most of your time is spent either in a bookstore or in his apartment, where you two would watch shitty reality television, before making predictions on who’ll get kicked out tomorrow nights episode.

Damian

‘Shall I end them for breaking your heart?’ He says as he puts a hand on your shoulder, obviously not use to being the one to comfort another, but with the help of Dick he hoped he was being at least somewhat comforting for you in your time of need.

You raise a hand to pat his hand on your shoulder, weakly chuckling at the seriousness of his tone, for while he might say it out of a need to bring you some assurance that he will be by your side. Damian wasn’t one to half ass his words and was most likely not joking about taking out your ex boyfriend for breaking your heart. ‘Thanks but no thanks dami.’

‘You’re better off without them. They were weak and couldn’t keep up with you, they were intimidated by your presence and how you easily prove yourself as a powerful individual who can look out for themselves and was scared of your power.’ Damian replies as he sits down next to you, setting aside his sword as he has Titus draped across your lap and Ace lounge next to your side, knowing how much you loved the dogs as much as he did.

And you know he’s not lying becuase Damian saw no point in lying to you, it’s ridiculous and serves no purpose whatsoever other then to guard another persons feelings, nope Damian says it as it is and needles to say he didn’t like your ex and now they’ve proved that feeling he had right by breaking your heart. While you said that he couldn’t kill him, Damian would oh most definitely stand outside their window menacingly without really trying.

However until he gets the opportunity to scare the shit out of your ex, he’s by your side with you throughout your healing journey as you realise that Damian wasn’t joking about you and your power. Your heart might break but it’s still beating and to Damian you alleys proven you were stronger then your ex ten times over. Hell you might even spar if you’ve got some anger to let out…Damian will use this as an excuse just to say;

‘Imagine their face and attack with everything you’ve got until there’s nothing left.’

Damian is an advocate for expressing how you fell in whatever form you can available to you, whether it’s through art, writing, music or otherwise just let it all out because how can you feel better when your repressing your emotions; thus hindering your own healing.

Tim has ice cream, your beloved fluffy blankets, your favourite show and or movie queued up on his computer with take out on the way the moment you had told him the news of your break up.

He doesn’t waste time and tells you to put on your most comfortable clothes because you were staying over the night to recover from a rather lacklustre relationship, away from someone who didn’t deserve you in the slightest, though this is very dependant on what relationship you had with your ex partner but the message remained the same with Tim: movie night with a side of gossip session where you shit talk about your ex partner and their glaring red flags now you were out of that mess.

Seriously by the end of the night you are no longer crying tears of sadness but tears of laughter every time Tim had something to say about your ex partner, easily roasting them into oblivion while your grasping at your stomach as it ached pleasantly, before joining in on the roasting yourself by giving him some insider information that his hacking skills could never give him.

Bruce ‘I’m rich’ Wayne who takes you out on shopping sprees to heal your heart by attempting to make a dent in his wallet.

After all what wouldn’t heal the heart faster than spending ridiculous amounts of money on comfort foods, items and clothing of various kinds.

Seriously this man will tell you to get the biggest, most expensive jellycat plushy the shop had, only to tell you to get like two more of similar sizes before gifting you his card and telling you to go nuts on what you want. That or he’d buy you it himself when he sees how hesitant you are with sending his money, quickly to pick up the things you side eye for too long or wince at the price tag of and buying it in bulk for you without hesitation.

He’s treating you to a expensive dinner afterwards with expensive drinks being brought to your table bottle by bottle along with good food, not that Bruce cared in the slightest as the night was far from over for the both of you, far from it as by the end of the night you would’ve completely forgotten about your ex when your rich friend spoils you rotten.

No friend of Bruce’s will cry over a broke loser, this man will remind you of your worth but in a less threading way like a certain son would, even if the encouragement was there in spirit.

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 days ago

Text

@zepskies

Oh boy, I am ready for the angst *rubs hands* and the dancing!!

You considered the picture, its bent corners and slightly grainy black and white lens. You’d worn your mother’s wedding dress, and you stared up at your new husband with the rosiest of smiles. He stared into your eyes then the way he always used to—like a man ready and willing to drown in them.

First I want to say that I am here for the reader rifling through Michael's drawers, YES girl, channel Daphne for Dean!! But I really love this little bit here because of the way you described Michael's gaze on her. Yes, we hate Michael... but goodness it was such a wonderful poetic line and all I want is that 😭

Also I love the little detail of Dean going out with a girl named Vanessa and especially the part where he thinks that she would:

"twitter on about frivolous things, so much that he couldn't really remember much of what she said..."

It's so good because my mind immediately shot to the idea that Dean is already subconsciously comparing the women/girls he's going out with to the reader. And on the inside I was doing this:

“I’d like you to leave me be. How about that?” you said, grabbing the edges of your hat and tilting it back down. “You’re distracting me.” “Oh, I’m distracting?” You met his gaze to give him a hot reply, but your words failed you. Just then, faced with his perfectly handsome, roguish face, you finally noticed how green his eyes were. Holding the gleaming reflection from the crystal chandelier above the bar, they briefly dragged over you again, like he was a starving man, and you were the very last morsel held in front of him. It was indecent, you thought, but suddenly your mouth had gone dry.

The boys running into the reader at the club was so wonderful, and there's really something beautiful about the way you build the scene with the dancing, the drinking, the people playing cards, and the description of the outfit the reader wore is stunning! I love the dark lipstick, dress, hat combo that shields her face is just everything I want- but above all, I really loved the banter you had between the reader and Dean.

The give and take with the dialogue is beautiful. This piece especially, because I literally needed to take a moment after reading it and the way Dean looked at the reader. 👀

Dean smoothly guided you even closer to him by your waist, until there was hardly any room between your chest and his, between your face and his. Your hand curled around the back of his neck on instinct, the edge of your nails just barely grazing through his hair. You wouldn’t know how it elicited a hot zing of sensation down his spine. “Your husband really is blind, and even dumber than he looks,” Dean said, glancing down at your face. “I clocked you in five seconds flat, just by those pretty lips.”

Oh my word IT'S HAPPENING!!! The tension! 😱

Also, I'm a complete sucker for a dance scene. I've written them a few times, and there's something so magical and intimate about them. You wrote this one between Dean and the reader so beautifully, because you made it filled with attraction, but you also made it a little melancholy when the reader is remembering a part of her life when she was happy in her marriage. The almost kiss is KILLING me lol

“Dean, please. You don’t have to do this just because you feel sorry for me,” you said. “I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said. It earned your attention, your confused and hurt expression. Dean met your gaze steadily. “I feel sorry for him. Because he doesn’t have a clue what he’s just lost.” Your breath stilled in your lungs.

Alright, it's official Alex my soul has left my body. It's been nice knowing you 🤣 I knew this would happen someday when I read one of your fics lol

Ohhh my word this chapter was so good! The historical fiction vibes are just so impeccable, and the entire scene with the reader and Dean in the club is going to live rent free in my head the rest of the year! Cannot wait to revive and read the next chapter lol!! 💗

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Before we tune back into some 1940s drama, I just wanted to thank you all so much for your wonderful responses on Part 1 of this series. 🥹 It’s my first time doing a story like this, so I’m very happy you liked the jumpstart here. 💖💖

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” by Frank Sinatra

Word Count: 3.7K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hints of PTSD, flirting, dancing…

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 2: Devil May Care

After you got home from work the very next day, your apartment was entirely empty.

Predictable. Michael was still out.

This time, you counted it as a blessing. You rifled through every corner, cabinet, pocket, and drawer in search of evidence—anything you could use to prove, without even one shade of a doubt, that your husband was the unfaithful scoundrel you knew him to be. You knew it, deep in your gut. In your very soul.

You even rifled through Michael’s desk in his office, through every single folder, drawer, and booklet. You’d never done such a thing before because he was a particular man about his things, and you respected his privacy.

That was done now. In your search, you found a useless ball of rubber bands and old coupons. You took his father’s old collection of fountain pens, which you knew Michael was precious about, and threw them haphazardly onto the desk to make room for your seeking hands through the rest of the drawers.

You even came across a small, crumpled photograph from your wedding day. This one made you pause.

You sighed and let the picture fall from between your fingertips. It swayed onto the desk’s mahogany wood surface, and rested there. You shook your head and returned your attention to your task at hand, holding your hands to your hips.

The problem was, you didn’t see anything incriminating here…until an idea finally occurred to you. You went into Michael’s closet. You sorted through the suit jackets he still needed to get drycleaned and pressed again.

In one of the pockets, you found a receipt.

You brought it to Sam Winchester’s office the following morning before work, along with some documents of your household expenses. Like you did the afternoon before, he identified the receipt as one for the Cotton Club, a nightclub in the Upper East Side. You had never been there in your life, but you heard it was one of the new go-to spots in town. It was the kind of place you used to wish Michael would take you to, once in a while.

“It could be a lead or it could be nothing, but I’ll check it out, along with these,” Sam said. He gathered the financial documents you gave him as well.

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you nodded.

“You can call me Sam if you like,” he said, kind, but still professional. You smiled. Unbidden, it reminded you of his brother.

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.”

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.”

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement.

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

Biting the inside of your lip, you gave into the urge to ask the question.

“It was nice of your brother to walk me home last night…what is he up to today then?”

“Ah, well, he’s out to lunch with a young lady he met last night,” Sam replied, with a somewhat wry, but still amused tone to his voice. You frowned.

“Last night? Does your brother meet a lot of women after 9:00 p.m.?”

Sam chuckled. “He’s not usually wanting for company.”

“I see,” you said flatly. You should have known. The devil-may-care grin on that man was too charming to be anything less than the mark of a shameless flirt. Maybe even a scoundrel. Lord knew you couldn’t take any chances either way.

Dean returned from his day out with Vanessa. She was a nice enough girl, a knockout blonde too. She was smart, studying to be a schoolteacher. But she also tended to twitter on about frivolous things, so much that he couldn’t really remember much of what she said. She did look good doing it though. Not to mention, she let him feel her up while they kissed in one of the alleys, between the ice cream parlor and a drycleaners.

He predictably found his brother whittling away life in his office. Dean dropped his coat and hat on the hanger with a flourish. Sam raised his head from his work with an amused smile.

“Had a good day, did you?” he remarked.

“I can’t complain,” Dean agreed. “Especially when a beautiful woman’s involved.”

Sam shook his head. Before September, he hadn’t seen Dean in three years. Yet some things just didn’t change.

“You gonna see her again?” Sam asked.

Dean made a noncommittal sound. “We’ll see. The day is young, brother.”

Sam raised a finger. “Speaking of which. Mrs. Milligan came by this morning. I’ve been looking through her husband’s finances.”

“Oh really?” Dean sobered as he approached his brother’s desk. “What’d you find?”

“Overall, things seemed to be in order, until I noticed something strange,” Sam said. Dean lowered into the chairs opposite his brother at his desk, and they went over it all together. Sam appreciated another set of eyes on this, with the understanding that Dean would keep the information to himself.

Starting roughly eleven months ago, there was a check signed to a Mr. Johnson for a moderate sum. Three weeks later, another check, this time a bit larger. For the past few months, Michael Milligan had been making these payments at least once a month, sometimes as much as three, albeit in different amounts.

“He might just have a gambling problem,” Sam said. He rubbed his chin in contemplation.

“Or it could be what she’s worried about,” Dean pointed out. “The name could be an alias. Maybe Mike’s paying for someone’s services…or paying her bills, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly nodded. “That’s a possibility.” He checked the dates on the documents again and shook his head. “Mrs. Milligan told me they got married about a year ago, here in the city. It would mean this guy started stepping out on her a month after the wedding.”

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.”

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

A wall of sound. That was the Cotton Club—the band on stage playing jazz tunes, loudly, if skillfully; the clanking of glasses as drinks rolled past; the clamor of heels and leather shoes as couples swung on the dance floor; and the added layer of people raising their voices to compensate. The room was filled with the smell of cigarette smoke, fighting against perfume and cologne and musk and sweat.

It was a bit overwhelming for Dean at first. He tried to ease himself into the scene with Sam at his side, even if he did jolt at the cork of a champagne bottle popping open. Sam noticed, but he mercifully didn’t say anything. He thumped a hand on Dean’s back to steady him under the pretense of a brotherly pat, adding a smile for good measure.

Sam was there to keep a lookout for Michael Milligan. Dean would help, but it wasn’t like he was being paid for it. He was largely aiming to have some fun while his brother was all serious, focused on the work. Dean was here for the community nightlife.

The beautiful, beautiful community. As a matter of fact, there were lovely ladies everywhere. One sultry blonde was singing an upbeat, jazzy tune at the mic. Dolores Daye, said the banner above the stage.

Dean’s attention shifted from the stage to the scattered round tables outside the dance floor, as well as the chair lined up at the bar. His gaze caught on someone familiar—on you, sat at a table by yourself. His eyes widened. He slowed to a stop while Sam went on ahead.

You were stunning, almost unrecognizable in a shimmering black dress that hugged every lush part of your figure, with sleeves that draped off your shoulders. His eyes drew down your crossed legs, the sheer pantyhose, leading to a pair of tall, shining black heels.

You wore a hat and partial veil that covered half your face, but he knew it was you. Those lips of yours were familiar on sight. Now they were painted red, dark and luscious.

“Dean?” Sam questioned him. He’d turned back when he realized his brother wasn’t keeping up with him. Dean subtly pointed you out. Sam raised his brows, but then he noticed what you were doing. You had a glass of wine in hand, and you seemed to be watching someone.

Every now and then your gaze would travel across the room, where your husband Michael was sat at a table filled with other men and women. They were laughing, drinking, playing cards.

Sam and Dean shared a conspiring look, one that said they had the same thought. They went over to you.

Sensing you were being approached, you looked over and found the pair of tall, familiar men with a widening of your eyes. That pretty mouth of yours fell open in surprise.

“What’re you doing here?” you whisper-hissed. You beckoned them to sit down so they weren’t standing out so much while talking to you. Both Winchester men were broad-shouldered and tall as oaks.

“The same thing you’re doing, apparently,” Sam said, once he and Dean were sitting across from you at the table. He showed you the camera he had hidden in his coat pocket. “I’m going to see if I can get a read on what your husband’s up to, maybe collect some evidence.”

You let out a rush of breath. “Good, thank you.”

“Until then, maybe you’d be more comfortable at home,” he suggested.

Dean knew what his brother was getting at. This wasn’t the kind of place for a woman to be hanging around…unaccompanied. Not a respectable one like you, who clearly wasn’t used to being in a roaring nightclub. Plus, if Michael did slip up here, it wasn’t exactly going to be pleasant for you.

You still shook your head stubbornly. “No. I want to see it with my own eyes.”

Sam almost sighed, but Dean shot him a nod. Right then, they had an understanding. Dean would stay and look out for you while Sam tried to get closer to Michael. Sam left you and Dean together at the table thereafter, and Dean ordered a drink for himself. You sipped at your wine.

Dean glanced at you in appreciation. You really were beautiful…and not just tonight. Though he had to smile at your “disguise.”

“You think that getup is gonna fool your husband?” he remarked, gesturing at your form.

Your lips pursed, but you kept your head angled towards him, so that your hat and veil continued to hide your face from Michael’s direction.

“It has so far,” you retorted. “And this isn’t a getup.”

You smoothed slightly self-conscious hands down the skirt of your dress. Dean smiled.

“All right, I’m sorry. Poor choice of words,” he said. He dropped his chin and raised his brows, earning your gaze under the hat. “It’s quite a dress, sweetheart.”

I’d like to see you out of it, he thought, even though he immediately stamped it down. You weren’t exactly available, no matter how delectable you were. The interesting part was, you didn’t seem to realize it as you fidgeted in your seat, a little self-consciously.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you snipped.

His lips tugged at a smirk. He tilted your hat up a little so he could see more of your frowning face.

“Want me to do better?” he teased.

“I’d like you to leave me be. How about that?” you said, grabbing the edges of your hat and tilting it back down. “You’re distracting me.”

“Oh, I’m distracting?”

You met his gaze to give him a hot reply, but your words failed you. Just then, faced with his perfectly handsome, roguish face, you finally noticed how green his eyes were. Holding the gleaming reflection from the crystal chandelier above the bar, they briefly dragged over you again, like he was a starving man, and you were the very last morsel held in front of him.

It was indecent, you thought, but suddenly your mouth had gone dry.

“How about this,” Dean said. He finished off his whiskey and held out a hand to you. “Dance with me. You’ll have a better vantage point to spy on Mike over there.”

“Keep your voice down,” you shushed, glancing around.

Dean just smirked. He beckoned you again with a raise of his brows.

You hesitated, but you still eventually dropped your hand into his. He stood before you so he could help you to your feet. You allowed him to escort you over to the dance floor, and all the while you fought off your nerves. You were only doing this because he had a good idea; this would help you keep an eye on Michael without looking so out of place, a woman drinking alone at the table.

The band was playing a moderately paced song, which was good. You weren’t in this to be swept into the air.

“Relax,” Dean whispered, once he had you in his arms. His hands were respectably placed on your waist and in your hand. You knew you did have to relax though. Already you were too stiff while tentatively holding his hand, your other resting on his shoulder.

“I haven’t danced in—in a while,” you admitted. You were a little nervous as you began swaying with Dean, letting him lead you. He turned you about with ease, even twirling you under his hand.

“See? There’s nothing to it,” he said, welcoming you back into his arms. “When’s the last time you had some fun?”

You tilted your head as you thought about it. You and Dean shuffled about the dance floor in more complicated steps as the song increased in tempo. You were breathless in a good way. In a way that you couldn’t even remember needing to breathe as the golden lights sparkled in the corners of your eyes.

“He took me to a club like this once, about…I’d say month or so after we got married last year,” you admitted between spins. You had to hold a hand to your head to keep your hat on.

You were distracted enough by it all—the spinning, the laughter and tinkling glasses, the flashes of spotlight in between sultry dim shades, the heady smell of this man’s cologne, and his every touch, however brief on your body, but just as confident and measured. You actually told him the truth.

“I’ve been dying to get out more ever since, but…” you trailed as he spun you again, then winded you back into the growing familiarity of his arms.

“Your husband really is blind, and even dumber than he looks,” Dean said, glancing down at your face. “I clocked you in five seconds flat, just by those pretty lips.”

You lowered your eyes, but not very far. They landed on his plush lips in contemplation. When your eyes met his again, Dean had a conundrum. He just didn’t think he cared all that much about the consequences.

His head began to bow towards yours, just when the song slowed to a stop. Almost without realizing it, he pressed his hand a little more insistently on the small of your back. You found yourself accepting that guiding pressure. Half-lidded eyes and heavy, mingled breaths in between…

“Let’s hear it again for Dolores Daye, everybody!” the host called out.

You snapped to attention and glanced over Dean’s shoulder at the singer. She waved goodbye to the crowd with a sensuous smile on her ruby red lips. Then she walked off stage in her glittering golden dress, and she grabbed hold of a man’s tie. That man was your husband.

Michael wore a wide smile on his face as she led him to his feet by his tie. He stood, his form looming over her, though she didn’t seem to mind—especially when his arm wrapped too familiarly around her waist.

It wasn’t the kind of embrace you would see between strangers, even for the sake of a good show for the crowd. Their faces became impossibly close, but it was just shy of a kiss as she laughed, a sound like fine crystal bells.

Dean noticed why you froze. He turned to look over his shoulder and his expression faded, becoming grim. He led you off the stage, and while keeping a discreet eye on the scene, he lingered at the bar in the center of the room. His arm stayed around your waist. He could tell himself it was to stay in character, but really, he just wanted to keep you grounded…that right now, you weren’t alone.

Here by the bar, it was far enough that Michael likely wouldn’t notice you, but close enough that you both could hear what was happening.

The host stepped down from the stage and joined Dolores and Michael, laying a heavy hand on your husband’s shoulder. Yet another clue that Michael showed his face here all too frequently. The host waved over his entire table of friends, Sam included. He’d managed to get himself invited to sit with them.

“Come on. Join us out back,” said the host, gesturing behind the curtain.

“Where to?” Sam asked.

“For a card game or two, a little smoke, a nice little drink,” Michael said, grabbing Sam’s shoulder. “You in?”

Sam nodded. He glanced over and found Dean across the room with his eyes. They shared a brief, but telling look, after which Sam followed Michael and Dolores past the curtain discreetly. Meanwhile, you were already pulling away from Dean’s arm.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go,” you murmured.

You went back to the table to collect your purse. You left the rest of your wine there with a few bills on the table to cover it, and you were off, walking brusquely to the front doors. Dean followed suit, laying some money down for his own drink before he followed after you. The clerk at the front brought you your coat after you handed over your ticket, and Dean did the same.

“Hey, why don’t I take you home,” he said, having to raise his voice even here over the noise.

“No, thank you,” you said thickly.

After you had your coat on, you hastened to the closest bus stop outside the club. It was late, it was dark, and it was cold. You saw your fragile breath on the air as you stood there in your tall heels, and you held yourself for more than one reason as you fought off bitter tears.

You bit your lip and blinked against the burn, but you still had to swipe a few droplets quickly from your cheeks. You tried to even out your shallow breaths. It felt like someone had reached into your chest and started squeezing whatever they found. Whatever was left.

Dean sidled up to you with his hands in his pockets. You heaved a sharp sigh, recognizing him just by his shadow casting beside yours under the streetlamp. You kept your face away from him as you wiped at your tears.

“Why do you insist on watching me be miserable?” you asked.

“Aw, come on, sweetheart.” He shook his head, carding a hand through his hair. “I know you’re upset. I just want to make sure you get home safe, that’s all. …You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.”

You slowly shot him a glance, but you didn’t budge. Your frown deepened along with your furrowed brows.

“Dean, please. You don’t have to do this just because you feel sorry for me,” you said.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said.

It earned your attention, your confused and hurt expression.

Dean met your gaze steadily. “I feel sorry for him. Because he doesn’t have a clue what he’s just lost.”

Your breath stilled in your lungs.

His words touched you, more deeply than he probably realized. Part of you still wanted to give a sharp retort, that you didn’t need a chaperone. You didn’t need him to swoop in and collect you like broken glass…but a larger part of you craved the company. You didn’t want to be alone.

Soon enough, the next bus pulled up at the curb in front of you. The doors opened.

Dean gestured with a sweeping hand towards the bus’s steps.

Ladies first.

With another small sigh, you climbed up without a word. You even accepted his helping hand as you did so. Dean stepped up after you, and the doors closed behind you both.

AN: Welp, Happy Valentine's Day! 😅💜 Quite literally an angsty ride here, but what should happen on this bus going nowhere...

Next Time:

You admired his hands as they rested casually in his lap. They were larger than yours, with long fingers. His hands look strong and capable, like the rest of him, even though they were always considerate when they touched you.

“Then you should do something you like doing,” you said. “Fixing cars! That’s good, honest work you can make a living out of.”

Dean looked over at you. “You think so?”

You nodded your encouragement, smiling bright. “I know so. You might be a bit of a flirt, but you also look like someone who can accomplish whatever you set your mind to.”

When those words slipped free from your mouth, you realized how he might take that little accusation, let alone how overeager you sounded. Your gaze fell away from him as you felt your face getting warm in a blush.

Dean’s smile slid into a smirk. “I’m a flirt, huh?”

“Well…” You bit the inside of your lip and tried your hardest not to look at him for a while. “At least you’re an honest one.”

Dean laughed freely at that.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

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frarxvr · 3 days ago

Text

Just a Fan –

Part Two

The world around her blurred. The noise of the bustling Monaco streets faded. All Y/N could hear was the rapid thumping of her own heartbeat as she stared at the signature on her hat.

But it wasn’t just a signature.

It was a number.

His number.

Her fingers tightened around the brim of the hat as she blinked rapidly, trying to process what just happened. Did Charles Leclerc just casually slip her his phone number? Was this some kind of joke? A mistake?

No. He had paused, thought about it, and then written it down.

The air felt thick around her as she looked up again, just in time to see his Ferrari disappear down the street. The memory of his wink replayed in her mind, and her stomach flipped.

Holy. Shit.

Did he really just—?

Why would he—?

Was she supposed to text him? Was this some kind of joke?

Should she call him? Text him? Would that be weird?

She had no idea how to navigate this situation.

Was she supposed to act like it didn’t happen? Pretend she didn’t see the number and just keep the hat as a cool memory?

But what if he was waiting for her to reach out?

Her phone was in her pocket, burning a hole through the fabric.

She hesitated before pulling it out, staring at the screen.

The number on her hat was just sitting there, silently daring her to use it.

She bit her lip.

she locked her phone and slipped it back into her pocket, exhaling slowly as she looked around. The last thing she needed was to overthink this.

It was probably nothing, she told herself. Maybe he was just being nice. Maybe he gave out his number to fans sometimes. Maybe it didn’t mean anything at all.

And yet, the number was still there

Right now, she just wanted to enjoy Monaco.

The warm breeze swept through the streets as she walked, the sun casting golden hues over the city. The sound of waves gently crashing against the harbor mixed with the quiet hum of cars passing by. It was the kind of day that made everything feel light, easy.

She wandered through the winding streets, stopping occasionally to admire the architecture or peek into small boutiques. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular—just letting herself get lost in the city.

When she reached the marina, she paused, watching as yachts swayed gently in the water. It was peaceful, the kind of moment that made her forget everything else.

No Charles. No number. No overthinking.

Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she muttered, "Fuck it," under her breath and typed out a message.

Y/N: "I hope this was meant to be here and I’m not texting a stranger by mistake."

She stared at the screen for a second. Then two.

"I was wondering when you’d text."Charles send it

Y/N: "It took me a while, but here I am."

Unknown Number: "I was starting to think you weren’t going to reply."

She bit her lip, her fingers tapping against the screen.

Y/N: "I almost didn’t."

Another buzz.

Unknown Number: "Why?"

She hesitated, staring at the message.

What was she supposed to say? That she thought this was a joke? That she didn’t know why he of all people had given her his number? That she wasn’t sure she wanted to get caught up in something that would only ever be a fantasy?

Instead, she kept it simple.

Y/N: "Didn’t think you’d notice if I did or didn’t."

His reply came almost immediately.

Unknown Number: "I wouldn’t have given you my number if I didn’t want you to text me"

Her breath hitched.

Charles: "So, are you going to keep calling me ‘Unknown Number’ and I will call you What because I don't know your name or should I tell you my name just in case you forgot?"

A small smile tugged at her lips.

Y/N: " my name is y/n and I think I’ve heard of you before. Something about a guy who drives really fast who give a girl in street his number?"

Charles: "That does sound like me."

She exhaled, leaning back against the bench as she stared at the screen.

What the hell was she getting herself into?

#charles leclerc x yn #f1 x female reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #story #f1 imagine

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letmedixonyou · 2 days ago

Text

i’m not yours - part 13

summary: Daryl and you are friends. He used to date Leah. You told him you loved him and things fell apart, but after awhile, you returned to being friends... right?

Daryl and you spend a comfortable evening at your porch, drinking whisky and contemplating life. Until...

words: 2k

warnings: none

A/N: we're almost there! One more part and this story is finished! I am working on a sequel, of course, but I am not sure how long it will be or when it is going to come out! Enjoy, muffins!

Daryl looks up at you, his blue eyes filled with something you've seen before. Something you're almost too familiar with.

Pain.

You knew it too well. Even when you aren't close to the people you bury, it stings just as much, knowing you've lost another person. Another precious life in this cruel and unforgiving world. Another son, daughter, partner, sister, brother, mum or dad… Sometimes, it felt like there was no reason to put a value on life anymore, because sooner or later, death will catch up and take what it wants.

You think about Deanna and how sad it was that she's now the only one standing from her entire family. It has to hurt. It must. She's a good person, and yet she has lost everything. It made you think about her holding a rosary and praying, while standing by Spencer's grave, and you asked yourself if God even existed. Because why would he want all of this to happen if he was out there somewhere? Why was He not helping or preventing the whole zombie outbreak thing? How come he let people turn into undead that roam this Earth? He was supposed to be an almighty. Why is there so much chaos in the world then?

As soon as you take a seat next to Daryl, he shoves a bottle right into your hand. It would be futile to argue, so you just nod politely and you take a swig. The alcohol burned its way down your throat, but it didn't matter. It was nothing compared to the feeling of heaviness in your heart, feeling like the world just keeps closing in; like soon enough, it will be your time to die. Or Daryl's. Or yet another person you know. Maybe this time it would be Rick or Michonne, or even Carl or Judith. Your heart clenched at your thought. It wasn't fair that this was all everyone was thinking about these days. Death, destruction, losing people or resources.

You think back to the day where you had Internet and phones, and food every single day of the week that was cooked in the oven or on the hob. The days were so much easier back then. The idea of going out of your house and making your way down the street without having to worry about your life seemed so distant and so unbelievably unreachable now. The way you could just stroll into a shop and buy a basket full of candy and snacks, or go to a restaurant and have your food delivered to you on a silver platter. How people never had to worry about lack of food, or money to buy the essentials.

The heavy grasp of uncertainty and pain of this world was almost too much to handle, but Rick's words were echoing in your head.

We're the ones who live.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the desolate landscape. Daryl's body leaned against the railing as he sat on the porch of your house, nursing his drink after you gave it back to him. The amber liquid reflected the fading light, shimmering slightly inside the glass, as if it were begging to be drank. Daryl took yet another swig, this one the biggest of them all, causing his cheeks to puff out before he swallowed. The burn was a welcome distraction from the gnawing pain of the day. Beside him, you crossed your legs and leaned your head on the railing as well. Both of you focused on the horizon.

The evening air was cool, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth, mingling with the distant hum of cicadas. The porch creaked softly under the weight of your silence, a comfortable stillness settling between you. The sky above was a canvas of fiery hues, oranges and purples blending seamlessly into the encroaching darkness.

Daryl's eyes, normally sharp and guarded, softened as he stared out at the vast expanse before him. His rugged features were etched with a weariness that spoke of countless battles fought and scars earned. The lines around his eyes deepened, betraying the weight of unspoken thoughts and buried emotions.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm in a silent gesture of support. The contact was brief, but it carried a world of meaning, an unspoken promise that you were there for him. He glanced at you, a flicker of gratitude passing through his gaze before he returned to his vigil.

As the first stars began to emerge, their faint glimmers dotting the darkening sky, you found solace in the shared moment. The world outside might be harsh and unforgiving, but here, on this porch, with Daryl by your side, there was a semblance of peace. The silence spoke volumes, a testament to the bond you shared, forged in the crucible of adversity. Together, you watched as the last remnants of daylight faded away, giving way to the quiet embrace of night.

“I can’t believe we buried another one today,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if you didn't want to break the silence between you. The wind carries your words away, leaving silence in its wake.

Daryl nods, staring at the ground, kicking a small stone around. “Yeah, it don’t take much, does it? One bite... one second, and it’s all over.”

You finally turn to him, your expression a mix of sorrow and determination. “It’s just... it’s so unfair. Spencer wasn't really liked around here, but he was young. He didn't deserve to die like this.”

“Life don’t care,” he replies, his tone gruff but gentle. “It don’t give a damn who you are or what you’ve got ahead of you. One moment you’re here, and the next... you’re gone.”

You both fall into a contemplative silence, each lost in your own thoughts. His words resounding in your head, making you uneasy. Life don't care. He was right.

Daryl took another swig, passing the bottle to you. You take it gratefully. You take a long drink, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. The only sounds you could hear were your breathing. Alexandria went completely silent, like all the people were giving Deanna space to grief. There were almost no people outside, except from people on patrols and watchtower duty.

“Remember that time we almost got caught by a herd?” you ask, a faint smile breaking through your sadness. “You threw that rock to distract them, and we just... ran.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he chuckles, the sound foreign yet comforting. “Thought we were dead for sure.”

“But we weren’t,” you reply, your smile widening. “We made it. Just like we always do.”

Daryl’s gaze flickers to you, the warmth of your presence a stark contrast to the cold reality surrounding you. “We’re lucky,” he says, almost to himself. “But luck don’t last forever.”

“True,” you agree, your voice growing serious again. “But what’s the point of worrying about it? We can’t control when our time is up. Maybe we should just... live while we can.”

“Easier said than done,” he mutters, but the hint of a smile tugs at his lips.

You continue to drink, the whisky loosening your tongues and dulling the edges of your grief. Stories flow freely—moments of laughter and terror, of survival and loss. Daryl finds himself sharing more than he usually would, drawn in by the camaraderie you share, the bond forged in the fires of your struggles. Even though you thought you knew him pretty well, the stories he shared tonight were different. New. You weren't complaining. Hell, you love hearing about his past. It wasn't the best past, thanks to his dickhead father and absent mother, but some of them were hilarious.

Just like this one, when Merle tripped and fell in deer poo. They were out hunting and were tracking a huge deer. Getting deeper and deeper into the forest, it was thicker and darker. What comes with it, there were more bushes and broken branches of the trees. And, of course, some logs, hidden by the thickness of flora. Just when they were getting closer to catch that deer, Merle tripped over some bunched up branches and vines and landed head first in deer poo. Mind you, he was probably a bit high, but it doesn't change the fact that it was funny. And Daryl spent weeks after that reminding him of it.

“You know,” you say, your voice slightly slurred, “I used to think about what it would be like... if we made it through all this. What we’d do, where we’d go. How would the world even look like.”

“Yeah?” Daryl asks.

His heart racing at the idea of a future, something he rarely lets himself ponder. He never thinks about the future, he lives in the present, because you never know what is going to happen and how your life is going to turn out. For all he knew, he could be eaten by a zombie tomorrow. Or get shot. Or maybe even ran over by a random truck. Everything was possible in this type of world. People can be as cruel as zombies.

“I imagined us finding a place. Somewhere peaceful,” you continue, your eyes shining with a dream long buried. “Maybe a cabin in the woods. Just you and me. Away from all this... chaos.”

Daryl’s breath hitches in his throat. The thought of a normal life feels foreign, almost unattainable. “You really think that’s possible?”

“Why not?” You reply, your confidence unwavering. “If we can survive this long, we can survive anything.”

For a moment, the world seems to fade away. It’s just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of your shared dreams, the weight of loss lightened by the promise of hope. Daryl looked at you, his eyes flicking around your face features. It didn't go unnoticed how he stopped at your lips for longer than other parts, and your heart did a somersault.

What the actual fuck?!

You stayed like that, staring at each other for a while. Neither of you was moving. Your whole body tensed up, and your fingers gripped the bottle tighter.

With an impulsive, almost clumsy motion, he moved forward, and his lips brushed against yours, soft and unsure. The kiss was a gentle surprise, leaving your heart racing and your mind spinning. He pulled back, his gaze hazy and unreadable, and you could only stare at him, utterly bewildered. The world around you seemed to blur as you tried to process what had just happened. Your thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and unspoken emotions, a mix of disbelief and a glimmer of something you couldn't quite name.

You audibly let out all the air out of your lungs, your eyes widened. Your mouth open to say something, anything, but nothing happened. As you look at him, you could see the reality of what he has done crashing over him. Panic surged through him, and without a word, he stood up and walked away, leaving you stunned on the porch, the taste of whisky and his kiss lingering in the night air.

“Daryl!” You called after him, but he didn't turn back. As he disappeared into the darkness, the stars above twinkled like distant memories, and you sat alone, grappling with the unexpected turn of your friendship.

The feelings you've been so desperately trying to push away and promised will never see the light of day again surged up once more. Your heart felt like it was going to fall out from your chest and your throat went dry.

I would never see you as something more than a friend.

Those words. Those exact words came out of his mouth the moment you told him you loved him all these months ago. You could picture his face even now when the three words fallen out of your lips. He was so fucking pissed off. He hated the fact you had feelings for him, and now? Now you're not so sure any more. It just makes no sense…

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x female reader #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl fic #daryl dixon fic #daryl fanfic

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penumbra-mayhem · 3 days ago

Text

Instinct

Tank is struggling after the Inversion, and there is only one person they can go to for help.

(I hc Tank with a stutter, more on that here.)

————————————————

“Hey,” Tank murmured as they settled in the dew-coated grass, “It’s b-been a wwhile…mmmy b-bad.”

The waking sun unfurled its rays in languor. Mourning doves stirred, greeting the light with their periwinkle coos.

A small, cocky smile cracked across Tank’s face. “B-B-But, in mmmy defense, y-you haven’t reached out either, so…” Deflating, they hung their head and muttered, “…b-bad joke, I-I kn-know.”

Tank fiddled with the bundle of wild rosemary in their hands. They’d picked it on Sam’s land and tied the sprigs together with a strip of fabric from an old shirt. Such a pathetic offering. Why couldn’t they have brought something nicer? Why was everything they did so thoughtless?

No planning. No forethought. Just instinct.

“I-I hate t-t-to come t-t-to you wwith all mmmy shit, b-b-but I-I don’t have anyone else t-t-to t-talk t-to ab-bout this,” they explained, “Everyone I-I kn-know wwwas there. And they wwere all actually in-inside, actually d-dealing wwwith that shit and I-I wwwas just…”

Tears bubbled up in their vision. They gnawed at the raw flesh on the inside of their cheek, trying not to take their pain out on the gift in their hands or the grass around them.

They were made for destruction. It came more naturally to Tank than anything else; it was easy and safe, in its own way. There was certainty in knowing they had the power to tear everything apart. If they had been there, at least they could have used that proclivity to protect people.

“WWWhy wwwasn’t I-I there?” they whimpered, “Fuck, I-I feel guilty that I-I wwwasn’t there and-and then I-I feel guilty for wwwwishing I-I had b-b-been.”

How selfish of them. How utterly pathetic.

“If I-I had, I-I could have at-at least fought wwwith them. I-I could have d-done something, in-instead of-of fucking n-n-n-nothing.”

Tank was at constant war with their emotions—always had been. They could do little to control them and nothing to stop them. But still they fought, trying to breathe deep and ground themself with their senses.

As they raised a shaking hand to clear their face of tears, the scent of rosemary bloomed in their nose like the breaking dawn.

It eased the onslaught within them, somewhat.

“I-I got off easy. So I-I’m trying t-to b-b-be there for everyone. The p-pack. Sam. MMilo and Asher and-and David. Their mmmates. V-Vincent and his. I-I’m trying to rep-p-prioritize. I-I have t-to. I-I came so close t-t-to l-l-l-l-l—fuck,” they took a few shallow breaths before blubbering, “…l-l-l-l-losing e-everyone.”

The doves gathered in the boughs over Tank’s head, cooing them into a calmer state like a gentle chorus. They sat above like a crown of mourning, the weight of which was familiar, and in that familiarity was some sort of comfort.

“I-I wwwasn’t there. I-I shouldn’t b-b-be l-like this. I-I should b-be strong. I-I should b-b-be their rock. B-B-But I-I’m n-n-not. Shocker,” they sighed, bitterness sinking its fangs into their tone.

“I-I’ve torn the in-insides of mmmy cheeks t-to shreds,” they admitted, “I-I can’t st-top checking everyone’s l-l-location on mmmy phone, it-it's b-b-becoming...obsessive. And I-I can’t go p-p-practically anywwhere wwwithout Sam.”

That morning had been difficult. Sam had offered to accompany Tank, not even knowing yet where they were headed. But they insisted on going alone, assuring him they’d be back in a couple hours and that they’d keep their location on. They couldn’t let him hear all of this. He was already dealing with enough. Far more than they were.

“WWhenever I-I l-l-lose sight of him, it-it’s l-like…it-it’s l-l-like wwwhen wwwwe l-lost the l-live feed. L-L-L…l-l-l-like I-I wwas suddenly on strings. MMMy mmmmovements wweren’t mmmy own, it-it wwwas all animal, all in-instinct. I-I wwwas shifted and sp-printing b-b-b-before I-I had even p-p-processed wwwhy.”

The morning air was steadily growing warmer, yet chills ran through Tank’s body. Tears muddled their vision. When they spoke, their voice was barely audible:

“I-I’m having n-n-n-nightmares…of-of the wwwward. That godawful st-tatic feeling it-it filled mmmy t-t-teeth wwith wwhen I-I b-b-bit at it-it. The fucking carnage I-I saw wwwhen it-it finally l-l-lifted. The b-b-bodies...if-if you could c-call them that. The b-blood. Asher’s b-b-blood, c-c-covering him and-and David and-and Sam.”

Sam.

“Fuck, I-I’ve n-n-never seen him l-l-look at-at mmmme l-l-like that b-b-before. Grab at-at mmme l-like that b-b-b-before. L-L-Like he wwwas dr-drowning, l-l-l-like he wwwwas s-suffoc-cating, and I-I-I wwwas his l-l-l-last t-t-t-tank of-of air.”

The nightmares always ended with him. Relief juddering through his body. Terror flooding down his cheeks. Anguish clawing out of his mouth.

“B-B-B-But I-I-I wwwwwasn’t there!” Tank shouted, startling the doves from their perches in a cacophony of whistles.

“SSo I-I sh-shouldn’t f-feel this wwwway. I-I-I sh-shouldn’t b-b-be having these d-damn dreams and-and th-these th-thoughts and-and th-these ffffffeelings. B-B-B-But I-I-I am…I-I’m hurting, d-d-dad. And-And I-I-I d-don’t kn-kn-know wwwwhat t-t-to d-do.”

Tank crumbled, every tear they’d fought against and tore at and bit back since the Inversion finally breaking through. All the while, Gabe’s gravestone sat before them, providing them shade from the sun now glaring on the horizon.

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oopsiedaisydeer · 2 days ago

Text

ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɴᴏᴛ… ᴀ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

emotional tension, social anxiety, one-sided attraction?, unresolved tension, self-doubt, slow burn, angst, fluff, coming-of-age, friends to lovers?, awkwardness

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙣𝙚: 𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, 𝘧𝘵. 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨!𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘺!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

series masterlist here.

word count - 1.5k

You weren’t really a party person, but when your classmate, Amelia, texted you, inviting you to her house, you felt like it was one of those rare chances you shouldn’t pass up. It wasn’t every day someone asked you to join in on something. Usually, you were watching from the sidelines, feeling left out, but also wishing you could be more social, more outgoing. So when the invitation came, you agreed, with only slight hesitation.

That was three hours ago.

Now, you were standing in the corner of a loud, crowded house, gripping your cup of soda and feeling incredibly out of place. You’d lost Amelia about fifteen minutes after arriving, she disappeared into the crowd, born for these kinds of events. You, on the other hand, found yourself on a dark corner of the couch, physical distance between you and everyone else. Watching people laugh too loud, too hard, you tried not to draw attention to the fact that you had no idea what to do with yourself.

You weren’t really good at starting conversations, especially in a crowd like this. You’d given it your best shot at first, made a few half-hearted attempts to engage with people. But everyone was too busy with their own groups. You found yourself retreating to quieter corners, waiting for something to change, to give you an excuse to leave without seeming rude. You’d probably end up doing an Irish goodbye anyway.

That’s when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You turned around, startled, to find Matt Sturniolo standing there, his usual easy grin on his face. He looked effortlessly casual, leaning against the doorframe with his arms resting by his side.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice light. “You look like you’re plotting your escape, too.”

You blinked, shocked. Matt was that guy at school, the one everyone knew and liked, always the center of attention. He had a way of being effortlessly charming, surrounded by people all the time, always with something to say. Not popular, exactly, but likeable.

And yet, here he was, talking to you? Out of all the people in the room, you hadn’t expected him to come over. You felt your heart race a little. Why was he talking to you?

“I wasn’t planning on coming,” you admitted, feeling a little awkward. “But, you know, sometimes I think I should try new things.”

He tilted his head to the side, like he was considering your words. “Yeah, I get you,” he said with a small laugh. “I don’t even know why I keep coming to these, but it’s like... the social obligation to show up, you know?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how casually he spoke about it. It was refreshing, almost. “Really? I’m just here because... well, I don’t really know.”

“Real,” he said simply, his eyes scanning the party for a second before settling back on you. “Not really vibing with the whole chaos thing either.”

You hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, I’m more of a... stay up all night reading person.” You gave a small shrug, feeling the weight of the awkwardness lift a little.

Matt smiled, and he looks like he wants to ask you a question, but instead he says, “I like talking to people, but... I don’t know. Seems like everyone’s pretending to have a great time, but no one’s really connecting, you know? Maybe that’s just because I’m not drinking, for once.”

You blinked, surprised by his honesty. It wasn’t what you expected from him. Matt, the guy everyone liked, talking like this? It caught you off guard, but you found yourself nodding. “Yeah. S’all surface level.”

“Exactly.” He grinned at you, the weight in his voice lifting a bit. “Not really fucking with all this. At the moment, at least.” He waved a hand around, gesturing to the loud music and crowded living room behind him. “Not a fan of standing by myself in corners either.”

You laughed softly. “Your best option is just to disappear into a quiet corner and hope no one notices.”

“I think I might just start doing that,” he said, pushing himself off the doorframe. “You got a spot in mind?”

For a second, you just sat there, looking up at him. You could tell he wasn’t being sarcastic, and that, for some reason, he was genuinely interested in keeping the conversation going. You pointed toward the back door, which led out to an empty back garden. “Looks like it's quieter out there. We could explore?”

Matt followed you, his footsteps steady but casual. The two of you wandered out, stepping onto the porch, away from the chaos of the party. There, with less noise, the conversation immediately flowed.

“So, what do you usually do when you’re not... you know, pretending to enjoy parties?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the stairwell.

You smiled, relieved by how comfortable the conversation felt. “I read a lot. Write sometimes too. I can get lost in a good story for hours.”

Matt chuckling slightly, still looked intrigued. “Reading, I can definitely see for you. Writing, though?”

“Well, I don’t really talk about it much,” you said with a small laugh. “And we don’t exactly talk often.”

He chuckled. “Fair point. What kind of stories do you like?”

The question was so easy, so natural, that you didn’t hesitate. “Anything with people. Just like real human stories. Or stuff with magic or weird alternate worlds. I’m actually reading this book about... well, it’s a romance. You probably wouldn’t be into it, though.”

Matt smiled at your self-deprecating tone. “You’d be surprised. I recently read this epic historical fantasy trilogy, which had beautiful romantic and platonic elements. About this girl who studies to-”

“Wait, you?” you interrupted, surprised. “You like that kind of stuff?”

“Why not?” he asked with a grin. “I might look like a party guy, but I’ve got a lot of hobbies. Some might call me the hobby king.”

You laughed, feeling more comfortable by the second. You couldn’t believe how easy this conversation was. “Alright, now I’m curious. What other hobbies do you have?”

Matt paused, looking like he was weighing whether or not to share something a little more personal. “Well... I like to paint sometimes. I’m not the best at it, but it’s a fun release. And I go climbing basically every other day. Sometimes get down with a good craft too.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You’re definitely not what I expected.”

He laughed, a little sheepish. “I get that a lot. People don’t usually see the side of me that’s into this stuff. Except for my family.” He looked away for a second, almost as if he was debating something. Then he met your gaze again. “I guess I’m just... not what people assume I am.”

You studied him, noticing how his relaxed demeanor had shifted, just a little, into something more thoughtful. It was a side of him you hadn’t expected to see. He wasn’t just the charming, social guy everyone flocked to. There was more to him.

Before you could say anything else, a group of his friends appeared. As they called out to him, Matt hesitated, his smile faltering for just a second. He looked back at you, his eyes briefly holding yours as though wondering if you’d follow him back inside. But just as quickly, he masked it with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 'Be right back,' he said, before turning and walking toward the group, his voice suddenly louder, more animated.

Matt's easy-going demeanor became something more familiar, charming, effortless, but distant. His friends were like a wave crashing into the calm he'd created with you. ‘Hey, bro!’ one of his brothers shouted, slapping his back, and just like that, his focus was gone. He shot you another quick glance, a little too bright, too practiced, like he wasn’t sure if he should feel guilty for walking away, but he did anyway.

You stayed in your quiet spot, unsure of what to do next. Hugging your knees to your chest, you tried to enjoy the quiet breeze, before standing up, and walking through the crowd. You paused in the kitchen, observing him. He had his back to you, but his body language somehow radiated toward you in clear waves.

He laughed louder, gestured more broadly. It was like something had turned off in him, and the mask had clicked into place. It wasn’t that he was faking it. It was just... different. More performance than person. And for a moment, you felt a strange pull between wanting to stay hidden in your corner or step into the chaos he was now part of.

Shaking the feeling off, you managed to make it out the front door in one piece. No goodbyes necessary. Checking your phone, you accepted it was still an okay time to walk home alone.

Matt lingered in your thoughts as you made your way home, a smile that seemed to tease its way onto your lips. You found yourself replaying the conversation, wondering if it had meant anything at all.

Maybe he was just being his usual charming self, effortlessly moving from person to person, like he always did.

A quiet thought slipped in. Had you gotten attached to the moment simply because he'd talked to you? Maybe it was just the rarity of someone actually taking notice, being interested. You probably shouldn't get too worked up about it.

It wasn’t something that happened often.

thank u @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers!! much much much love <3

a/n: oh i really hope u guys fw this bc i just spent three hours planning the whole series out <3 im working on a masterlist for this series also!

taglist: @backwardshatnick @sturnslutz @applecidersturniolo @kier-with-a-k @evansturn @bluestriips @55sturn @snoopychris @y3sterdaysproblem @cowboylikenat @throatgoat4u tagging most ppl who seem interested !! feel free to lmk if u want to be added or removed from the taglist though!

cya soon!!!!

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starogeorgina · 2 days ago

Text

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Warnings: Smut, swearing

1.02

The wind carries the acrid smell of burning flesh as the stench of death reaches your nostrils. You toss another black bag into the already burning pit just on the edges of the quarantine zone you lived in. Clad in grimy clothing, trudging through the charred remains of the once-bustling city. You heave a heavy sack of garbage filled with a day's worth of waste onto the fire, the sound of plastic groaning under the strain echoing through the desolate streets.

As you continue your grim task, you can't help but steal glances further along the road at the larger fire blazing beside the one you’re assigned to. Your mouth goes dry when you notice Joel; his brows are pulled together as he drops a body into the fire. He was hauntingly beautiful. There were so many small things you missed when you weren’t with him, like the way he hummed when kissing you and his sarcastic mannerisms. If Joel was telling you a story that made him happy, he’d trace his fingers up and down your arm. He did that often when talking about his brother Tommy.

As Joel walks back towards the truck to retrieve another body, he lifts his head and briefly makes eye contact with you, but just as you smile, his tired eyes swiftly move to something behind you.

“Sad, isn’t it?” A woman with red hair approaches you and says, "Sad, isn't it?" “I’m thankful I’m burning people's trashe and not their bodies. I did it once and had nightmares for weeks.”

“Yeah, it will do that.”

“Where’s Tess? I thought she was on the same shift as you.”

“She swapped them.”

The redhead raises her brows and says, “Oh, that’s handy, I suppose, always having someone in your apartment. The building next to mine got raided a few days ago.”

You think of your sister sneaking around the roof at night, her rifle slung over her shoulder as she scans the horizon for any signs of movement. You weren’t sure if that was for her protection or to protect whatever contraband she was trying to smuggle. According to your sister, she and Joel have been ‘upping their game’ for months now, but you try your best not to ask any questions.

As you stand there, lost in thought, a sudden chill runs down your spine. You pause, trying to shake off the unease that has settled over you.

—

Joel rips the condom packet open with his teeth before rolling the rubber over his hard cock; his rough fingers grip onto your hips as he sinks into your cunt. You groan loudly, feeling him moving his hands to spread you open as he moves your feet so they are resting on either side of his head as he thrusts into you.

“Fuck! You’re so sensitive,” he says before swiping his thumb across your clit. He smirks when your legs start to tremble. “Do you like that, baby girl?”

All you can do is nod pathetically.

Without pulling out of you, Joel wraps his arms around your waist and changes position. You’re now sitting on his lap, your legs dangling on either side of him as Joel sits on the edge of the bed. The new position makes him feel much deeper than before; your fingernails dig into the side of his neck.

“You take me so well,” he pants. “When I’m done pounding into your tight little pussy, I’m gonna kiss it better. Do you want that?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You lean back, Joel takes one of your breasts into his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple, and then he abruptly stops thrusting. “What the hell—“

He covers your mouth with his hand and quietly asks, “Are you sure Tess is working late tonight?”

You nod.

“Shit,” he lifts you off his lap and whispers. “Don’t leave this room until I say so.”

You are slightly confused as he effortlessly lifts you off his lap, moments after the orgasm that was on the brink of consuming you was abruptly interrupted. It takes you a moment to process what’s happening. It’s not until he closes the door behind him that you fully register what’s going on. Someone was trying to break in. You scramble to your feet and quickly start to redress, but before you pull your pants up, three gunshots go off outside your room.

You get the gun that’s hidden beneath your mattress and aim at the doorway, waiting to see who comes through as the door handle starts to turn.

“Don’t shoot; it’s only me.”

“What the hell just happened?”

Joel brushes his sweaty hair out of his face. “Raiders, they managed to unlock your door from the outside, but I can fix it.”

“Oh my god.”

You go to leave the room, but he takes hold of your arm and says, “Trust me, you don’t want to see.”

“But we’re going to need to clean it up before Tess gets back.”

He lets out a deep sigh and holds onto your shoulders. “Finish getting dressed; I’ll deal with the bodies.”

You cared a lot for Joel, probably a little too much, but the one thing you hated was that he acted as if you were made of glass. Both he and Tess seem to forget that blood surrounds you every day.

Joel lets go of you to find his clothes that were scattered across your room; he had only slipped his boxers on before leaving the room. You watch as he ties off the condom before shoving it into the bottom of the trashcan in your room. While you studied him, you had no way of knowing how terrified Joel was of losing you moments ago. Joel's heart raced at the sound of someone trying to break through the front door; his first instinct was to save you; he killed two men without regret because it meant you were safe, but yet he had no intention of saying these thoughts out loud.

—

Your hands shake as you nervously fumble with the box in them. Now or never. Hearing the click of the door opening, you pull a used towel over your lap and frown at your sister, “Jesus, Tess, have you ever heard of knocking?”

Without even glancing in your direction, she goes directly to the sink, immediately rummaging in the small cupboard underneath it.

“I’m trying to pee here.”

“Then pee!” She tosses a few empty tampon boxes to the floor and grunts, “I’ve got to leave to meet this guy about a weapons shipment, and it looks as if I’ve been stabbed from the waist down.”

“Seriously, you need to get out.” You huff like a teenager, wishing more than anything that you had a bathroom with a lock that worked. “Seriously, go now!”

“Alright, alright,” she says, holding her hands up in defeat. Tess turns around, her eyes drawn to something on the floor. “What the fuck is that?”

Your heart races as you notice the small stick lying on the floor. Damn it. It had slid out of the box. Tess crosses her arms over her chest, her gaze fixed on the pregnancy test.

Dropping your head into your hands, you sigh, “Don’t, just don’t.”

“Please tell me you’ve got that for someone else,” her voice low and guarded.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of your secret bearing down on you. You shift uncomfortably under her gaze, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “I’m late,” you mumble, trying to sound nonchalant. “But it could be from a lack of sleep and stress. This isn’t the first time I’ve been late.”

Your sister lets out a harsh laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “But you've obviously been screwing someone to even think there is a chance you could be. Fuck.”

You feel a stab of guilt as your sister's words sink in. She's right, of course. You had been screwing someone, but you and Joel both agreed it would make things complicated if other people, including Tess, knew.

“Have you taken it yet?”

“No, I was about to when you came barging in.”

Tess pulls a couple of tampons out of an old makeup bag. “Silver lining if you are knocked up? We don’t need to fight over these anymore.”

—

Putting all your weight on your shoulder, you push the door leading into the next door’s apartment open by slamming into it. Dirt and grime cover the walls, revealing overturned and broken furniture. A layer of thick dust coats everything, indicating that no one has been here for a long time. The windows remain boarded up, and the only light from outside comes from the small cracks in the boards.

“Holy shit.”

As you and Tess both search through the apartment, you can't help but notice the tension building between you. She has been acting strangely for days, and you struggle to understand her feelings towards you, as all you've received, except for a few words, has been silence. Every time you try to make eye contact with her, she looks away quickly and becomes visibly uncomfortable.

“Are we just not going to talk now?”

“So, who’s the father?” When you don’t answer, Tess scowls at you and says, “Jesus, tell me you know who the father is.”

“Of course I do,” you snap defensively. “I’m not some whore who sleeps around, if that’s what you’re trying to imply.”

She gives you the same look your mom gave you as a naughty kid. “I never said you were, but you’re the one who’s put us in this position by being so reckless!”

“We used condoms every time.”

Tess shakes her head while picking knocked-over furniture back up. “Condoms are only ninety-eight percent effective, meaning two people out of a hundred fall pregnant, and of course you are one of them.”

You throw two fusty-looking pillows into a black bag, trying to hold back the tears you feel welling up. “Don’t you think I know that? I—I—I can’t tell him.” You think of the devastation in Joel’s eyes every time he spoke about Sarah; not telling him about the positive test result right away was your own way of protecting him. “I need to get my head straight first. Think clearly before I speak to him about it.”

“Do you have any idea how hard this is going to be?” She asks, sounding more like a disapproving parent than a big sister. “Will the father even step up? Will he just be another Paddy and leave you to raise a child on your own?”

Tess has always looked after you. When you were a teenager, she took you in after your dad found out about your pregnancy and kicked you out of his house. She stayed by your side the whole time your son was sick and would babysit so you could study or work extra shifts. You owed Tess everything, yet a part of you was mad because, despite everything you’d been through, she was still treating you like the teenage girl who appeared on her doorstep, begging for a roof over her head.

“I know it’s going to be hard.” Trying to hide the tears that have fallen, you start throwing more junk that was left behind into the trash bag. After a few moments have passed, you take a deep breath. “I think he will be shocked and in denial at first but will want to be involved.”

The truth was, you had no idea how Joel would feel or react, but the second you saw those two thin little lines appear, you wanted to bury your head in the sand, so you imagined this would rip the floor out from underneath him. Joel was a brutal, hardened man, but yet, you’d still trust him with your life. You weren’t scared of telling Joel because of his reaction; you were just scared of the reality of the situation.

“You know, if you don’t want to have this baby, there are still places that can help you.”

“I just...” you cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. “I need to sleep on it for a few days.”

"I'm not asking you to tell me who your father is so I can judge you. I’m asking you to tell me because I’m your sister; whatever shit goes down, we go through it together.”

“I don’t want you to have another reason to be upset with me.”

“I won’t be angry,” she sighs. “I just don’t want to go around assuming it’s every guy you’ve spoken to. Is it one of the medics?”

“No.”

“It’s not… a soldier?” She asks jokingly.

“I’ve been sleeping with Joel Miller.”

Tess laughs, “No, you haven’t. Because Joel told me he’s—“ Immediately her demeanor changes; she’s seething. “You’ve been seeing him and never told me?”

The flicker of hurt on her face takes you aback. “I’m sorry. It’s complicated; I don’t even—”

Before you can finish your sentence, Tess storms out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

#the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller/you #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller/reader #joel miller #the last of us hbo #the last of us x you

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chimivx · 1 day ago

Text

gimme gimme gimme 7 -> mingi x fem!reader -> nice for what

wc: 12k ( i'm sorry ?! ) warnings: 18+, sexual content and alcohol consumption in every part, infidelity themes... if i missed anything please let me know! posted: 2/27/25 8:16 pm est.

masterlist ~ <- previous part - next part ->

Hongjoong circled around the coffee table in the middle of the couches, a wine glass dangling between his fingers adorned with silver rings. Sinking onto a cushion beside Seonghwa, he curled his legs beneath him, the Gucci socks getting lost beneath the silk hanging off of his lower half. Inches of space kept between the two did nothing to deter the sexual magnetism radiating off of them.

Stretching an arm along the back of the sofa, behind Hongjoongs back, careful not to actually touch him- none of you have seen them do so- Seonghwa kicked his legs out in front of him, bare olive skin in little loose fitted shorts, crossing his ankles.

Gentle music pulsed through the room, a soft R&B playlist off of Mingi’s phone, one that heated your cheeks, your toes longing to curl as each song changed into one that brought back a plethora of memories. Catching his half smirk across the room with each new beat, hanging around opposite sides of the house for the evening, he knew what he was doing to you.

He sat on the couch to the left of Seonghwa and Hongjoong, Jongho also in the mix sitting beside your boyfriend. Beer cans in hand, they spoke covertly with their leaders, hushed voices like gentle lullabies sneaking over to where you stood with the girls around the kitchen island, the girls and Yeosang. He bounced back and forth, a few minutes with the boys, a few minutes with you girls, which meant a few minutes with his girl.

You’re certain you’ll all be receiving save the dates in the mail sometime next year.

Yeosang had no other reason to hang around the guys aside from spending genuine time with them. Nasara is his past, Keni is his future. Balancing the two now, watching him wander from couch to counter, from leaning over a sofa to wrapping an arm around her waist, checking in on her without a word, without interrupting her aside from the tiniest kiss to her cheek, it’s like his life went unchanged.

Like graduating hadn’t affected him in the slightest. He’s ready to move on, he wants what comes next, he’s leaving all of you, this life, behind.

Much like Ryujin and Jeongyeon, not one of them questioned what came next for the sorority, the fraternity. The three of them, they didn’t need to know. Sure, if it came up in conversation they cared, they listened, they watched with gleaming eyes as the rest of you talked plans, talked details. But, they didn’t contribute. Nor did they have any opinions. They had nothing to say.

Even now, as the song changed into one more upbeat now that the night progressed later and Mingi shifted the vibes, Yuna ran her mouth a mile a minute, eyes wide, hands flying as she expressed her ideas for fundraisers and for recruiting new girls, letting the underclassmen shadow their seniors with the specific positions they’d want in the future… Ryujin blinked. Her gaze traveled out toward the living room. She rested her elbows on the counter and laid her head on Jeongyeons shoulder, and they whispered to each other.

She didn’t pay attention.

She’d rather talk to her girlfriend. She’d rather move up to Iloa, rent an apartment with her, call you guys occasionally, slum it through these weeks with all of you, then go back to her separate life with Jeongyeon like the last four years of her life never happened.

Personally, I don’t wanna stay stuck in a place that made me miserable.

That’s what she told you that night in Cheers. That this chapter has closed, that if she wants to feel better, if she wants to get better, she has to move on.

It must be the same for Yeosang.

I’m willing to make sacrifices for the people I love.

Your eyes found Mingi. Leaning over his knees covered in baggy denim, his black button down exposed his golden chest, a few silver chains dangling around his neck, contrasting against his skin. He wore his black, square, chunky glasses tonight, they sat on the edge of his nose. You don’t know how many times you have to tell him that if he doesn’t wear them right he’ll have a headache within the hour, but he’ll defend himself, Tori, if I push them back they don’t look right, they have to look right.

Not paying attention to you, he listened to Seonghwa who hadn’t moved from Hongjoongs side. The president, with his head softly bobbing around, spoke like Yuna, a mile a minute, just much quieter. It gave you insight to how the house was run behind closed doors. You’ve shared with Mingi what the sorority was like, and he’s told you just as much about ATZ, but to see it happening in real time, right in front of you, so compelling.

Hongjoong had minute things to add, his eyes on Seonghwa, a gaze that’d drop to his lips occasionally. After a small sip from his glass, swirling the wine around before another, he’d speak, and after a few times, it happened.

Seonghwa’s hand gripped the back of his neck, thumb and fingers on either side, squeezing him. Turning his head, his glare blazing like Hongjoong had said something wrong, neither of them faltered. Where Seonghwa’s eyes were hot, almost angry, Hongjoongs were alight with mischief. Both Mingi and Jongho glanced away the second Seonghwa pulled Hongjoong closer by his neck. His lips found his ear, a whisper shared, one no one needed to know.

Seonghwa released him and Hongjoong fell back into place with a smile on his face.

Wandering over to the fridge, leaving Yuna and Keni to discuss Iloa with Ryujin and Jeongyeon, you pulled a seltzer off the shelf and cracked it open, swinging the door shut with a slam. Facing the living room, downing half your drink in a few gulps, you watched the front door open a crack, Yunho slipping inside on alert, scanning the room before closing the door behind him.

Spotting you, he lifted his hand with the smallest wave, then tried to make his six foot self smaller, planting himself on the couch opposite Mingi, next to Yeosang. The boys acknowledged his appearance, but didn’t let it deter them from discussion. Yunho fell right in without missing a beat.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Ryujin said, spawning beside you, grabbing herself a new drink.

Giving her a shrug, glancing down at her, you pursed your glossed lips. “Lots to think about.”

“You still having trouble adjusting?” she asked, eyeing the scene beneath her shaggy bangs parted in the center. Looking up at you, she read your gaze and laughed. “Damn, Tor. Maybe you need to talk to someone.”

The words stung. “I don’t need to talk to anyone,” you snapped. “I need people to stop being assholes.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s being an asshole?” There wasn’t a single infliction in her tone. She remained utterly calm, her inner lion always asleep until it was necessary for it to wake up. “As far as I know, everyone’s chill.”

“Everyone is not chill.”

“Like who?” she asked, bobbing her chin. “Aurora? You guys haven’t spoken in, like, two days, Tor.”

“‘Cause she’s wrapped up in her life, Rio,” you sneered, both of your gazes heating up. “Everybody thinks they’re so adorable, they’re so cute, but no one is looking at it.”

Ryujin tightened her jaw. “When was the last time you went out of your way to ask her about it? About him? Have you even talked to her about it, and listened?”

“When’s the last time she’s asked me about me?”

Your voices were raised, the only indicator being Mingi’s attention turned to you from the living room.

Ryujin’s entire demeanor changed, like she took an entire mental step backward. “She’s tried. You won’t talk to her. She’s been asking us all to look out for you, to make sure you’re okay, that you have a good time while we’re here.”

Your heart sank into your stomach. “You told her what we talked about? She told you stuff, too?”

“She hasn’t said shit, Tor,” she shook her head, “And I didn’t tell her a thing. She knows you, you think she can’t tell that something’s off? That something between the two of you is wrong?”

You couldn’t even hide it. Distorting your face into something of a frown, you scoffed, then groaned. “I tried to talk to her after we got into it, but she ignored me.” Ryujin tilted her head. “I haven’t tried again since.”

“Okay, she may have told me something,” she said after a couple blinks. Your cheeks warmed. “We’ve been out the last two nights, right?” You nodded. Everyone’s been spending time at Cheers together, drinking, dancing, but just the main group of you all, the people in the house right now. “She told me she’s staying out of your way.” You parted your lips, but she continued on. “And that she wanted me to help keep you away from her. For your sake. Not hers.”

Feet thundered down the stairs behind you, San whooping, leaping over the back of the couch Mingi and Jongho sat on, wedging himself in the middle of the two. Taking Mingi’s chin in his hand after nearly knocking the two boys out with his knees, he tugged your boyfriend closer and smacked a thick, wet kiss to his cheek before he tried to do the same to Jongho, but the boy held up a hand and San retreated with a smirk.

The room grew louder. Especially once San caught a glimpse of Yunho sitting across from him.

“She told me that she thinks she bothers you,” Ryujin said, taking your attention back. “And, she doesn’t know why. She doesn’t know what she’s done, she doesn’t know how to fix it, and she feels bad for putting you through a hard time without realizing it.”

The tiniest laugh sparked at your lips. Shaking your head, letting her words sink in, mess with your heart, mess with your head, you sent her a glare. “Of course,” you lowered your voice, hearing footsteps on the stairsteps. “Of course she’d think that. That it’s because of her. No one fucking gets it.”

Pressing your can to your lips you spun away from her and started around the counters, heading for Mingi. Ryujin threw her arms out and shook her hair around.

“We’re trying to!” she shouted.

Aurora and Wooyoung had come downstairs. Wrapped up in one another, Aurora pressed to his chest, her arms slung around his back like they usually were, they stood behind San, Wooyoung toying with the short black hair tousled atop his head. Cracking jokes, all the boys laughing with one another aside from Mingi and Yunho, no one seemed to notice the way Aurora stared across the room. No one except the boy she stared at.

He fought to look elsewhere, fidgeting in his seat, only uncomfortable because she held onto Wooyoung at the same time, Yunho didn’t know what to do. Yeosang slid a hand over his knee, calming him. Yunho gave him a look, but he didn’t return it, his focus laid upon his girlfriend who joined the group in the living room, as did Yuna.

Sinking onto Mingi’s lap without sparing Aurora a look, not that she’d dare look away from her soulmate to acknowledge you, you wrapped an arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek, the one San didn’t. Sliding his phone into his pocket in a hurry when you appeared in front of him, he smiled up at you and sat backward, inviting you in. One of his hands rested around your waist and the high waisted denim skirt hugging your hips. The other reached up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips dancing along the golden earrings hanging from your lobes.

“Hi pretty girl.” Voice low, gravely, just for you, he coerced you closer for a real kiss, one gentle and slow. “You okay?” he asked through a breath. A shake of your head was enough for him. Anyone could feel the tension in the air, sprouting from a thousand places other than just your own heart. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, blinking his big brown eyes up at you behind his frames.

“It’s okay,” you whispered back, dragging your fingers through his hair. “I’ll just stay right here all night, and everything will be fine.”

Mingi squeezed your curves and smized. “Fine by me.”

“Hey, Tori?” Yunho’s voice sounded beside you. He left his spot on the couch to crouch next to the one the two of you sat on. Turning your head, ghosting Mingi’s kiss, you questioned him with a brow. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” you said quietly, turning to Mingi who nodded at you and helped you off of his lap. Yunho lead you into the kitchen, out of earshot of everyone else. Towering above you, an inch taller than your boyfriend, he flickered his eyes in and out of the living room. “What’s up, Yo?”

He paced a bit, slowly, yet obvious his nervous system had been overloaded. He was going to talk about Aurora. And you were going to have to endure it.

“I don’t know what to do,” he sucked in a breath, shaking his head in tiny, a trillion times. “Up until the other night, no, until that party, no.” He paused, turning toward you. “The other night, the night at Wave, what the fuck.”

“Words, Yunho,” you said gently, resting a hand on a counter.

He drug his hands through his hair and tried to take another deep breath, but it was as if his lungs had forgotten how to work. “I was fine. I could do this.”

“Do what?”

He grit his teeth, dropping his hands at his side. “Watch them. Be around them. Encounter them in the wild and not have it affect me so awfully terribly. But, now that she knows something, now that I know a lot of something, I can’t.” He gulped. He spun around once to catch a glimpse of the couple now sitting on the back of the sofa behind San, then faced you. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to-”

“Then, go home,” you said. Shock slapped him across the face. “You can’t handle it, then leave. What else do you want me to say?”

Dropping his eyes, taking all of you in, as if to double check who he was speaking to, he said within a breath, “What?”

You shrugged. “You heard me.”

“Tor, I thought-”

“She’s not speaking to me anymore,” you said, and his face went blank. “Somehow, right now, I might be okay with that. If you want Aurora, you go get Aurora. I don’t want to help anymore.”

Leaving him in the kitchen, you backed away a few steps and started yourself toward Mingi. He followed you.

“Can you at least tell me why Mingi was so quick to defend Hwa that night?” he asked.

Facing him one last time, you sipped your drink and looked him in the eye. “You distanced yourself. From everyone. Is it so criminal they’ve grown closer? You’re no longer in the middle of them, they have a friendship of their own now.” He glanced over your head at the boys laughing together. “You want to know why, you ask him.”

You stepped away, but he took one step closer.

“But, I thought we-”

“No,” you said, whipping your head toward him one last time. “Whatever you’re thinking, no. I don’t wanna be involved. You wanna play your games with her? Go ahead. You wanna pull my boyfriend through months of hell again, make him not speak to you? Go ahead. You did this. It’s your fault, Yunho.”

Turning from him, you didn’t let anything stop you this time, not Mingi’s attention, not Yunho’s shout of your name, nothing. Crinkling the can in your hand, you threw it to the hardwood and hurried for the front door, yanking it open, slamming it shut behind you without a care for the houses wellbeing or the people inside of it. Wandering over the porch to the front stairs, you took a couple down toward the sand in the yard and paused.

Closing your eyes in the night air, taking a deep breath, planting your hand on one of the railings, you let the breeze ease the heat beneath your skin. Let it partially clear your head from all thoughts of the people in the living room, though the buzz of them could still be heard where you stood.

Everything you once wanted, everything that brought you down, the weighted thoughts, the heavy words, the awful feelings… It all came from them.

Everyone in the house.

A family you so desperately yearned to keep together.

Immovable forces, every single one of them. Beings full of freewill. In no way can you force them back where you wanted them. In no way can you make them feel how you want them to feel.

There was no putting them back together, they moved against you. Opposed to you.

Pulling your phone from the back pocket of your skirt, you tapped on your messages and sent one off to your father.

[you]: what if i dropped out of ITZ

The thought nauseated you, but it was the first thing to pop into your head as you stood out here without them.

There were two unread messages from ITZ. One sent earlier, and the other sent about a minute ago.

[ITZ]: hi sexy. whats this night gonna be like :)

[ITZ]: are you okay??

Sighing heavily, you sat down on the step you stood on and rolled your head backward. Tilting it side to side, looking either way into the shadows that bounced off of other houses, your eye caught a five foot something shaped shadow wandering closer to your porch.

“Tori?” he asked, and you groaned internally.

Jongseob appeared in the light pouring from the windows of your house, mere feet from where you sat on the step. His hands were in his dark denim pockets, his matching dark tee hanging over his waist. Dirty blonde hair fluffed on his head, he wore a pout and concern in his eyes.

“What do you want?” you grumbled.

He glanced back toward his house, where distant noise and commotion came from. “We’re smoking, I heard the door slam and saw you come out here. Just didn’t sound good.”

“So, you’re here to check on me?” you sneered, and he nodded, unaffected by your venom. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

He took a step closer to the stairs. “Are you?”

“Yes,” you snapped. “Now leave me alone.”

A smirk found his lips, a flash of his teeth peeking between them. Tilting his chin back, he laughed. “This the thanks I get for exterminating your house?”

Narrowing your eyes, you shook your head. “What are you talking about?”

He glanced toward his porch, then lifted a brow. “I took care of your little Soul problem, didn’t I?”

Your stomach flipped. “That was you?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “It was obvious he bothered you. We’ve got a lot out of him since he’s been back, you’re friends with some freaks.”

Groaning aloud this time, you squeezed your eyes shut. “I know, I know!”

“Surprised no party has ever turned into something more,” he said, lifting a foot to place it on the bottom stair. “Or does something like that happen tonight, when we aren’t invited.”

Shooting him a glare, you said, “Does it look like we’re in the middle of an orgy!?”

His eyes drew up and down your body. “Could be, I dunno. You’re unpredictable, Tori.”

A breath corrupted your lungs, and it shouldn’t have. His words, his stare, his intent. “You’ll say anything, won’t you?”

“I mean it,” he whispered, meeting your eyes with such ferocity. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you, a lot so many of us don’t know about you. You keep it hidden. But, I see it.” His eyes flashed to the door behind you. “I could look at every girl in there and know exactly who they are, know exactly how they work. Yuna, she needs someone to take care of her. Keni, she needs someone to control. Aurora, a slut.”

“Watch your mouth.”

He stepped up onto the stair, looking down at you now. “It’s the truth is it not? You know it, everyone knows it, no one speaks of it. How come?”

Leaning down over you, his face inches from your own, his smile sparked something within you, it fueled your frustration for everyone in that living room, it gave you an excitement you hadn’t felt in months.

“I’m exactly like that son of a bitch in there, the one wearing Aurora. I see everything, I pick up on it all, I can figure out why these people work the way that they work, and I know how to take what they give me unknowingly, twist it up, and spit it back out at them.”

You watched him in awe.

“Wooyoung is quick, but I am quicker. They think Soul’s been rogue since he left with me from that last party?”

You nodded.

“He’s been drinking on my couch and passing a girl back and forth with Intak for days before he passes out in my bed for hours just to wake up and do it all over again. He’s twenty. What the fuck do they think he’s gonna do?”

“They say you guys take advantage of him,” you said quietly, and he scoffed.

“Advantage of what? What can Soul do?” He laughed. “He barely knows his right from his left, do they think he’s walking around telling people off, getting in fistfights, causing problems?” You shrugged. “He’s not,” he said with a wink. “That’s Wooyoung.”

“I dunno, they just-”

“Talk?” His smirk made you feel something you shouldn’t, but after a few drinks you couldn’t help yourself. “That’s all they ever do, isn’t it? Take it from me, as someone on the outside of it, Tor. Who are all of those people without this drama? All of your friends in there, what are they without something to talk about? Someone to do dirty? A plot to scheme up and pursue?”

Brainless, his pink lips knocked every thought from your head.

“Exactly,” he said softly, releasing a breath, one grazing your skin. “It’s all a game to them.” He reached out a hand and moved a strand of hair from your cheek. Your breath caught in your lungs. “And you’re another pawn, aren’t you?” He crouched down in front of you, his head between your legs if you were to part them. “Want some help?” he asked in a whisper, flashing you caramel doe eyes. “Mind if we come play?”

Their peace had been disturbed.

Giving Jongseob ten minutes to collect his friends, his groupies, you scurried back inside the house, bolting for the fridge for another drink to enjoy while the boys walked themselves in the house and everybody lounging around on the couches watched it happen. Mingi, with his eyes on you, gave you a smile, one small, loving, just enough to warm the edges of your heart hanging cold in your chest.

Standing behind the island counter, drink in hand, sipping in delicately, you returned it to him, but he didn’t believe you. Rising from the couch, giving Aurora and Wooyoung more space to spread out beside San, he joined you in the kitchen, a hand sliding around your shoulder.

The only acknowledgement of you returning inside, Yuna’s glance from where she sat on top of Jongho. Her always wide eyes met yours, full of worry, and they asked you questions, ones you couldn’t answer at the moment.

“What happened, Tor?” Mingi asked from your side, stepping closer to press his chest to your shoulder. His other hand squeezed you, fingers digging into muscle. “With Ryujin? With Yunho?”

Looking up at him, tipping your chin backward almost all the way, you planted a smile on your lips. “I’m over it.”

“Over what?” His brows furrowed.

“All of this.”

The front door swung open, the handle hitting the wall it slammed into as Jongseob stepped over the threshold with Soul wobbling under his arm, a big smile on both their faces. Behind them, Jiung, Intak, and a few other boys who’ve shown up to parties, are a part of ATZ, and have definitely heard plenty about you with how they grinned over Jongseob’s shoulder.

“Tori.” Mingi’s tone fell flat. Smiling, you glanced at him and stood to your tiptoes to plant a kiss to his cheek. He stared at the boys wandering in, one of them closing the door. “What the fuck?”

Taking sips of your drink, you stationed yourself here for the time being, watching it all play out before your eyes.

Confused, every single one of them, no one knew what to do, things for the most part fell silent aside from the boys' remarks about not being invited and what a way to welcome Soul home. Aurora didn’t look at him. Focused on Wooyoung who, what it seemed, tried to kill Intak with a glare, she pressed herself closer to him and toyed with the chain around his neck.

Seonghwa was the only one to stand up, extending a hand toward the underclassmen, welcoming them in after Hongjoong finally whispered something to him and shoved him off the sofa. Pointing them around in the direction of things they’d need, drinks, bathroom, back patio, Jongseob took the president by the shoulder with a grin and thanked him.

“All my shit still upstairs?” Soul asked him, his hand holding the back of Jongseob’s tee with a nasty grip. Seob did say they’d been smoking, you wouldn’t be surprised if any of them were doing both, furthering your interest in the rest of this night.

Seonghwa clenched his jaw. “Yeah, your shit’s still upstairs. We didn’t touch anything.”

Soul shot a look toward Aurora paying no mind to him and shouted, “That’s a shock!“

Both Intak and Jiung laughed, making their way past the couch the couples sat on, Intak sure to get his own death glare toward Wooyoung in before shaking Seonghwa’s hand.

Jiung pouted and nudged Soul's shoulder in a way that would’ve sent him to the floor if he wasn’t clinging to Jongseob. “Mommy didn’t touch your stuff?”

“Mommy hasn’t touched his stuff in a while,” Jongseob smized, and Wooyoung nearly leapt off of the couch.

“This is not good,” Mingi mumbled beside you. He turned to you and your soft smile, scoffing at you in disbelief. “Are you enjoying this?”

You spared him a glance. “No, I, uh…”

“Come on,” Jongseob sang out, his head tipping backward as the boys laughed at something you missed. Aurora whispered to Wooyoung, you figured it was another comment about them. “Can we party, we came here to party!” Seob looked around for you, then pointed a finger in your direction. “You,” he winked. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Mingi asked behind his teeth just for you to hear. The boys whirled away as the music grew in volume, Mingi facing you completely. “Tori. What is he thanking you for?”

Pursing your lips, you took another sip of your drink. “Inviting them into my house.”

Within the hour the lights had dimmed, the amount of people doubled, and so did your consumption of drinks. Wedged between Jongseob and Jiung in the game room, the two of them shooting pool and blowing weed smoke in your face, you listened to them blab on and on about underground rappers they loved and what they were going to do when you and your friends left Haos. Intoxicated enough to not care that they were smoking inside, in a house you were renting that would most likely charge you for smoking inside, you bounced from one of their shoulders to the other sipping your umpteenth drink.

Bodies moved around you, other people the boys played with, faces unrecognizable, but fuck it, if Seob knew them then they were okay in your book tonight.

“What are you on, baby girl?” Jongseob asked after his turn, balls clacking against one another, Jiung and the other players witnessing Seob’s almost victory, but he was too engrossed in you to realize. He touched the bottom of your can and you shrugged. Blinking through dazed eyes, he laughed at you. “Oh, you’re fucked up.”

Taking a hand to his shoulder, you squeezed him and laughed with him. “Nooo, no, no, M’not.”

Jongseob raised a brow and brought his hand to yours where it rested on him. “Baby, you can’t even speak full words.”

Stepping closer to him, Jongseob ignored the joint between Jiung’s fingers hanging over his shoulder and let you move into him. “I can speak full words, Jongseob… Seob… Seobie.” Giggling, you leaned into him, but he didn’t move.

“Seobie, huh?” he questioned, smiling at you. “What about Mingi?”

Your eyes widened and he winked. “Mingi,” you parroted. He bobbed his head.

“The boyfriend,” he said. “Where is he?”

“I dunno, I been with you this whole time.”

Jongseobs smile went crooked. “Yeah, you have. How come?”

Both of your hands found his chest. “Because…”

“Seob, you're up!” Jiung shouted from the opposite corner of the table. Jongseob shot him a glare and waved him off.

“…Are you the one who’s texting me?” you asked, and his head tilted, and his eyes widened a bit. Dirty blonde hair framed his face, his round cheeks, his charismatic aura.

“Am I texting you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, leaning into him so much now that your chests were brushing. “I have this unknown number texting me, since we got here, I can’t figure out who it is… At first I thought it was you, but then I thought it was Yunho… But, it can’t be Yunho ‘cause he loves Ror, so, it’s gotta be you.”

Jongseob glanced over your shoulder, his lips parted in surprise. Meeting eyes with someone, he laughed aloud.

“What’s this person saying to you?” It was Intak behind you. Short, black hair moved in your peripheral, but you focused on Jongseob. The edges of your vision were blurry.

“Sex stuff,” you said, and they both gasped, laughing together. “They’re saying I should tell Mingi, and we can have a threesome.”

“Sounds like you,” Intak said to Jongseob who gleamed with pride. “Is it?”

“I wish,” he spat. “That’s fuckin’ smart. Leading you on for this long, knowing you…”

“Knowing me?” you asked, shaking your head. The boys shared a look.

“You aren’t gonna leave him alone,” Jongseob said, lowering his hands on your back. “You’re gonna keep pushing ‘till you figure out who it is.”

A pout formed on your lips. Your hands fisted his t-shirt into clumps. “Oh, c’mon, it’s not you?”

“Nah,” he shook his head, then his hands slipped even lower, feeling you up, searching for your phone. Ignoring how your breath stifled when his fingers grazed over your ass to pull it from your back pocket, you barely had time to react to anything at all. “Lemme see what y’all are talking about.”

“Seob, wait,” you breathed, moving to snatch it from him, but he was a little more sober than you were at the moment. Using your face ID to get into it, holding it up in front of you, you still weren’t quick enough to catch it. “Hang on!”

Intak watched over his shoulder, both boys snickering at the messages as they scrolled. Whining, shaking Seob’s arm around, not really doing much, you had to wait until they handed it back over.

“You faked an orgasm?” Jongseob shot you a look so disgusted you wanted to smack it off of his face. Lunging for the phone, he moved swiftly. “Oh, baby, come on. I think that would ruin my life,” he said to Intak, and his friend agreed, “If a girl faked it ‘cause of me, and told people about it, goodbye world.”

“Nah, same, bro,” Intak groaned. “And I’ve got a rep now?! If a girl ever… Christ, man.” He looked you over and shrugged. “He’s lucky you’ve been together for ages, imagine if that was one hook up? Bro would be cooked.”

Bro.

His name is Mingi.

“His name is Mingi,” you attempted to scoff, and they both snickered. Jongseob typed away at your phone before locking it and slapping it into your hand.

“Don’t get defensive now, babe, it won’t do much, I can smell it from here.”

Pushing by you, gripping the back of your neck, Jongseob, followed by Intak and Jiung, moved you out of the game room and into the dark living room lit up by phone screens and the dim kitchen light.

“Where are we going?” you asked, watching how he and his friends seemed to scour the place for familiar faces.

“To find your friends,” he mumbled over the music.

A boy passed by, the one from the other party, taking note of how Jongseob held onto you. “It’s your night Seob,” he cheered, tapping him on the shoulder with a fist.

You raised a brow. “Your night?”

Jongseob touched a finger under your chin, giving you a smile. “Don’t worry about it.” His eye caught something on the second floor, from the balcony edge just after the staircase where the bar lived. “Find Soul,” he muttered to Intak and Jiung, “Let’s go.”

Yunho and Mingi sat at the bar. Facing their backs to the marble, leaning against it, their legs were hooked onto the rungs of the cushioned stools they were perched upon. Sipping from cocktail glasses, elbows nudging together every now and again, they spoke quietly to one another, eyes scoping the scene of their friends before them.

Wooyoung in a lounge chair, Aurora on his lap. Jongho on the slender leather sofa pushed to the wall, Yuna smushed into his side, his arm around her. Yeosang and Keni relaxed into the other end of the couch, hands intertwined. San wandered about the circle, talking to someone new every five minutes. Ryujin and Jeongyeon sat on the floor in front of the couch. Seonghwa sat on the other lounge chair, Hongjoong either hovering behind him or sitting on the floor between his legs in front of the glass table that lived in the center on top of the blue patterned rug draped along the floor.

Other people teetered by occasionally, simply wandering from floor to floor, stopping by the group to say hi, to try to get on the inside, to earn their points as members of ATZ and ITZ. Neither Seonghwa nor Aurora paid much attention aside from a hi, this vacation wasn’t meant to turn into a Greek Life event.

They sat up here for comfort, to stay away from the younger crowd, to keep to themselves like the night was meant to be spent, just the core group. Not the incels down the street.

The ones you waddled up the stairs with.

The ones met with almost eleven complete death glares as you stepped up onto the second floor and expressed your excitement for finding everyone.

“You knew they were up here,” you said to Jongseob, hitting him with an elbow before teetering toward Mingi and Yunho. Both boys raised a brow, their eyes shifting between you and Jongseob. “Mingi,” you sighed with a smile, reaching for his arm. You were intoxicated enough to not notice him move away from you, leaning into Yunho.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked.

You tried to reach for him again. Tilting your head, you laughed. “Whadda you mean? I’ve been here, downstairs, we were playing pool.”

“You don’t know how to play pool, Tor,” he said. Yunho pressed his lips together to hide his smile and turned away. “We moved up here and you said you’d come with us.”

Glancing around the space, the underclassmen now integrated with your friends, every exchange dripping with some sort of intended malice, you shook your shoulders in a little shimmy and gave him another smile. “I’m here now,” you said. “And they aren’t so bad.” Gesturing toward the younger boys standing over their elders, talking down to them, both Mingi and Yunho let out a quiet snicker. Mingi’s ended with a groan.

“You’re pushing all of us away,” Mingi said, just to you. “None of this is you, Torilynn. I thought we were moving past things, I thought we were getting through these things together, but I can’t…” he paused, shaking his head, “I don’t know why you’re doing what you’re doing. And that hurts me, because I used to know why you did every little thing, why every single detail of every single thing mattered.”

You blinked at him. Unfortunately you processed every other word.

“Doing this? Bringing them here when you know they cause problems? Bringing them here to, I dunno, maybe cause problems? ‘Cause you know how we all feel about them, you know what they do to Rora, you know how they look at me. You know it, Tori. And you did it anyway.”

Soul hurried around the bar with the biggest smile on his face, his black eyes alight with excitement. Watching him push around bottles of liquor and tiny glasses while the other boys shouted at him, you dropped your jaw, searching your mind for something to say to Mingi, but you couldn’t find a word.

He was right.

Clenching his jaw, staring at you, waiting for you to speak, he shook his head and sipped his drink realizing he wasn’t going to get anything out of you.

“Come on,” Soul said to you, bumping into your shoulder, inches taller than you were. He nodded toward the group forming a circle around the glass table. The younger boys coerced everyone closer, the circle tightening with sighs and groans and rolls of eyes. Holding up a bottle of vodka, Soul laughed. “Let’s play.”

Meeting Jongseob’s gaze from across the room, his smirk drilled beneath your skin, warming you, yet filling you with some kind of unease you couldn’t quite place. Jongho waved Mingi over before you had the chance to grab onto him, your titan of a boyfriend strolling toward the couple on the couch, perching himself on the arm of the leather next to his friend. Yunho joined the group as well, keeping himself still on the outskirts of it all, sitting down on the floor beside Seonghwa and Hongjoong, Mingi on the couch on the other side of him.

With every reluctant step toward them the tension seemed to ease. Everyone focused on Soul handing out shot glasses, wanting them full, some of your friends knocking them back before any game actually began. Stepping over legs, brushing past faces you didn’t dare look at, you ended up between Ryujin and Jeongyeon on the floor, stretching your legs out under the glass, letting them fix your hair and fawn over you for a few seconds.

“You okay?” Ryujin asked, but the look you gave her made her frown. “It’s okay,” she mumbled, acknowledging the moment you shared earlier. Acknowledging everything actually it seemed. Squeezing your shoulder, she smiled. “Stay right here,” she handed you a shot, “Drink, play games, just chill, okay?” You nodded, taking the shot, adding more fuel to the fire. “This night’ll be over before you know it. Tomorrow I’ll help you fix whatever you gotta fix.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, leaning into her, feeling Jeongyeon’s gentle eyes watching over the two of you.

Glancing toward Mingi, he talked with Seonghwa and Hongjoong. Glancing toward Aurora, she held Wooyoung tight around the neck, her eyes pointed toward Soul on his knees opposite you at the table, filling up the glasses as Jiung and Intak on either side cheered him on. Wooyoung smoothed a hand over her thigh, his arm wrapped around her back. Yunho watched that hand and took his shot, slamming it down on the table for more. Soul obliged, his own eyes shifting from Yunho to Aurora.

Sliding one of the glasses to the end of the table, Soul said, “Aurora.” She faced Wooyoung immediately, the two gazing at one another, Wooyoung whispering something to her. Soul’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes flickering to the glass. Fingers splayed out on the table, he drummed them once, licked his lips, finally blinked, then took the glass and poured the liquor down his own throat.

“What are we playing?” Yeosang called out, twirling the glass in his hand, his other arm wrapped around Keni.

San, on the arm rest beside him, emphasized his question with a, “Yeah! Let me show you boys how it’s done, I’ll outdrink every single one of you.”

Jongseob, who stood on his feet, positioned himself between Seonghwa on the chair and Jiung on the floor. “Not that kinda game,” he grinned, lifting his full glass with a cheers before knocking it back.

Yuna, leaning forward onto her knees, gave him a curious look. “What is it?”

Jongseob beamed. “Truth or Dare.”

A chorus of groans erupted amongst crackles of laughter, both intrigued and degrading.

“I need everyone to take three more shots,” Jongseob demanded, eyebrows raised to his hairline.

With giggles they listened, even you, taking the glass from Ryujin after it’d been filled again. The only two to not move, Wooyoung and Aurora. As your friends, your boyfriend, and the other boys chattered happily amongst themselves, the tension finally easing with every shot taken, you eyed Jongseob and the way he studied your best friend and her boyfriend. He waltzed over to them, behind the lounge chair they sat upon, and shoved his head in between theirs.

“Three more,” he smiled, making sure to look in both their eyes, noses centimeters apart. “Or you’re not playing.”

Aurora curled her lip. “Then we’re not playing.”

Jongseob narrowed his eyes. “Then, I need you to leave the room.”

“Who the fuck do you-”

Jongseob cut Wooyoung off before he had the chance to say more.

“Last I checked, you have no authority to talk shit,” he spat. “You think you belong here, but do you?” Wooyoung tightened his jaw. Jongseob turned to Aurora, looked her up and down, drew his tongue over his lips, then shot his glare back toward Wooyoung. “She’s the only one who cares by the way. They don’t give a fuck. No one else would miss you if you weren’t here.”

“Hey,” San spoke up from the couch to the right of Aurora, tuning into the exchange too late. “The fuck did you just say?”

Jongseob stood up straight, his chin lifted a smidge. Giving San a smile and the subtlest wink, he said, “Don’t worry ‘bout it, pretty boy.”

Wooyoung leaned forward, taking Aurora with him. Snatching two glasses from the table he took them both, placed them back down for Soul to refill them, then lifted them to Aurora’s lips for her to drink.

Jongseob smacked a hand to his head and ruffled his black waves. “Good,” he snickered. “Everyone have three?” A chorus of yes’s showered over him, even yours. Making his way back to the other side of Jiung, his eyes locked on you, he grinned. “Perfect.” Picking up the bottle of vodka off the table by the handle, he held it in the air before he dropped it into Seonghwa’s lap. The president jumped, legs squeezing together, capturing both Hongjoong and the bottle between them.

“It goes in a circle. You have the bottle, you can ask one person, truth or dare, but you can only ask once.” Jongseob’s gaze traveled around the circle, everyone's attention glued to him. “Nothing is off limits. Every truth must be answered, every dare must be completed.”

Ryujin scoffed. “What if it’s completely inappropriate, I don’t think that’s fair at all. You’re in a room full of couples.”

Jongseob’s eyes sparkled. He glanced toward Aurora and Wooyoung, then Soul, then Yunho, then you. “Don’t take it too seriously,” he said softly. “It’s just a game.”

All eyes pointed to Seonghwa, the air growing thicker as silence ensued.

“Uh,” he sang, bouncing the bottle in his hands. Searching the room for a face, he chose to stare down at the bottle as a tiny smile found his lips. “Hey, H.”

Hongjoong froze on the floor in front of him. A giggle came out of Yuna, and though the rest of you kept quiet, more than half of you wore a smile. This game, so childish, yet so invigorating.

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “Truth or dare?”

Hongjoong sighed. It took him a few seconds to answer him. They weren’t even looking at each other. The vice president lived between his knees on the floor, fondling a shot glass between his ring wearing fingers.

“Truth,” he said, rushed.

Seonghwa held in a laugh, something you all witnessed but Hongjoong missed. His voice came out quiet, with a hint of humor, but completely serious. “You really like that thing I do with my tongue?”

Giggles poured from more of you than just Yuna this time. Jongho squeezed his eyes shut with a smile, Mingi’s melody filled the air, and Yeosang and Keni both loosed quiet laughs in the form of breath. San’s jaw dropped, the sophomores nibbled at their nails furiously, grins behind their hands, and Aurora and Wooyoung, they didn’t move.

Whirling around, jumping onto his knees on the floor, Hongjoong slapped one of Seonghwa’s thighs, making the president laugh. “Bastard!”

“Answer it,” Jongseob said, one of the only ones with a steady face.

Dropping his chin, Seonghwa raised a brow. Hongjoong took a deep breath.

“Sorry,” Seonghwa whispered, his smile never leaving his lips.

Hongjoong shook his head. “I do,” he forced out of him, and the room erupted with cheers. Ryujin slapped her hands to the table, San took another shot and threw his arms out with a shout of when’s it my turn, and the sophomores shared glances with one another.

Seonghwa, after winking at Hongjoong, looked to Jongseob and held up the bottle.

“Pass it,” he gestured to Hongjoong, and the vice president took the bottle into his hands, situating himself back on the floor between Seonghwa’s knees.

Cheeks pink, unable to look at anyone, he rolled his eyes and groaned at once. “San,” he grumbled, and the boy on the end of the couch perked up. You could feel his excitement.

“Hongjoong,” he said with all of his chest.

“Truth or da-”

“Dare.”

You giggled with the girls around you, all of you leaning forward to catch a glimpse of him riding the edge of the arm rest, buzzing with adrenaline. Heart pounding in your own chest, knowing that many of your friends felt the same, you waited with baited breath. San would do anything. Twice. Even Aurora finally broke into a smile, gazing over at him.

Hongjoong’s eyes traveled from San to Wooyoung. The corners of his lips tipped up, his wicked smile cracking onto his cheeks pairing with his sharp eyes, the devil personified. “I dare you…” San gulped, eyes growing wider as Hongjoong paused. Like a dog being taunted with ribeye. “To swap places with Wooyoung.”

Snapping his head to the side, they looked at each other, the three of them. Sighing, Aurora gave a look to Wooyoung and reluctantly slid off of his lap. San hadn’t even accepted and she was already moving. Intak and Jiung both snickered under their breath.

“Done,” San said, and everyone egged them on. Meaningless words and sounds they didn’t even pay attention to. Wooyoung moved around him, the two sharing a look and a quick slip of their hands over each other before assuming their new positions. Flopping down in the lounge chair, soft smile on his face, he glanced up at Aurora and tapped his lap a few times. “Don’t be shy.”

Intak muttered, “When is she ever,” and Jiung and Seob nearly choked on their laughter. Soul’s face rendered unreadable.

Wooyoung’s glare across the room held zero power anymore. The sophomores teased him with pouty faces.

Hongjoong passed the bottle to Yunho. Barely able to look up at the group, paralyzed where he sat on the floor, he studied the glass and shrugged.

“Uh, Tori,” he mumbled, and your stomach flipped. “Truth or dare?”

“Why her?” Jiung whispered to his friends.

Intak gave him a look. “Are we surprised? He don’t talk to these people no more.”

Taking a breath, you sat forward and focused on him. “Truth,” you sighed, giving a quick look to Mingi who found interest in the chandelier hanging above your heads.

Yunho pursed his lips and looked at you. “Make any new friends since you’ve been here?”

The attention was on you now, everyones curious gazes pointed toward you, wondering why he would ask such a question.

“Uh,” you drug out, half racking your brain for an answer, also wondering why he’d ask such a question. All thoughts of why were wiped away when Intak opened his mouth.

“Oh, I get why,” he said entirely too loud to Jiung, catching the room's attention. Mingi stared at him for many seconds before his eyes ripped toward you. Seob smized. Your body filled with heat, and not the good kind.

“No, I haven’t,” you said to Yunho. “But, thanks for asking.”

His glare burned into yours. Thrusting the bottle toward Mingi, after your boyfriend took it he tucked his knees into his chest, wrapping his arms around them, averting his glare to the floor.

“Yeosang,” Mingi called out with a shrug.

His arm not wrapped around Keni shot in the air. “Me!”

Mingi smiled and nudged his glasses up his nose. “Truth or dare?”

Consulting with his girlfriend, Yeosang tipped his chin back with a grin. “Truth, why not.”

“Oh god, I don’t know what to ask,” Mingi laughed, and half the room laughed with him with hearty encouragement thrown toward him, mumbles of it doesn’t have to be insane comforting to his ears, and Yeosang’s too. Jongseob rolled his eyes. “Uh, how… How are you guys?” Your boyfriend gestured to Keni with a nod of his head, and the couple smiled together.

The sophomores across the table groaned, giving him looks of disbelief that your friends kept to themselves. Half the room disappointed with the innocent question, the other half admiring him for it. You think you stood right in the middle. Where you wanted the taboo, the questions that should be saved for privacy, for the couple only, this question was entirely Mingi and everything he stood for.

“We’re fantastic,” Yeosang said with his chest, pulling Keni closer to him. “Thank you for asking, Mingi.”

Your boyfriend shot him a lopsided smile and a shrug, brushing off his thanks. “Sure,” he said, handing the bottle to Jongho.

“Truth or dare,” he said to Yuna quickly.

Taken aback, she faced him and laughed. “Dare,” she whispered, and you and Ryujin glimmering on the floor with oo’s and giggles.

Jongho smirked. “Dare you to show them how you kissed me last night.”

Now the room erupted in oo’s and giggles. Soul refilled shot glasses as everyone shifted, laughing as Yuna gave everyone a look of dismay, calling out for her to do it, do it, do it!

Reaching for a shot glass, everyone shouting louder and louder, Yuna knocked the liquor back and flung herself onto Jongho’s lap, engulfing his lips with her own, but she didn’t stop there. Her tongue slipped out from her lips, meeting Jongho’s in the middle of it all, the two pressing together before she welcomed it into her mouth, wrapping her lips around it. His hands slipped around her ass and Ryujin grabbed onto you, the two of you screeching aloud as the others cheered for them.

Glancing over to Aurora, you found her watching Yuna with a proud smile, and it pulled at your heart. She should be here on the floor with you and Ryujin. San cheered behind her, his crude comments showering over the couple grinding on the couch like dirty rainfall, but she didn’t say much. She simply smiled.

Yuna pulled back from Jongho with a smack of their lips and the room audibly expressed their disappointment. Laughing, she tried to slide off of his lap, but he held her in place.

“You have to stay right here,” he mumbled, trying to keep it quiet, but you all caught it.

Yeosang deepened his voice and called out, “Jjong’s got a boner!”

San leaned forward, holding onto Aurora as he moved, and said to Yeosang, “Are we surprised?”

Jongho shot him a glare. San simply smiled back at him.

Yuna, staying on top of her boyfriend, twisted herself around and faced the group, taking the bottle of vodka in her hands. “Sheesh,” she sighed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Looking at Aurora she uttered a quiet, “I think I get it,” and took a deep breath. Jongho smirked behind her, side eyeing Wooyoung. You turned to catch his reaction, but found him looking down at his shoes where he sat on the arm rest.

Twisting the lid off the bottle, Yuna took a swig, some of the boys exclaiming in surprise, clapping their hands together. The sophomores, except Jongseob, leaned over the table, their wide eyes glued to Yuna. Gulping some of the alcohol down, with furrowed brows she fumbled to put the lid back on. Jongho took it from her and fixed it as she shot a hand toward Soul.

“You,” she said. Intak and Jiung whipped their heads toward him, lips parted in shock. “Truth or…” she hiccuped and giggled, “Truth or dare?”

Soul, blinking up at her, muttered, “Truth.”

She hesitated, looking at him with such intrigue that the room fell quiet. When she spoke, she gagged you all.

“How many times did you hook up with Aurora and Wooyoung?”

Intak, Jiung, and Jongseob lost their absolute shit. Hands flying to their faces, smacking each other, laughter ringing and echoing into the high ceiling and likely over the first floor. Ryujin, jaw agape, eyes wide, glanced around because this was the first her and Jeongyeon had heard of this. Jongho, keeping a laugh inside, jokingly placed a hand over his girlfriend's mouth making Seonghwa and Hongjoong snicker.

“What?” Ryujin shouted amidst the noise, looking up at Aurora who wore nothing on her face. San rubbed a hand into her shoulder as he and Wooyoung looked at one another.

Yunho didn’t move, but his eyes studied everyone.

Soul, unable to acknowledge anyone, even his friends, he flattened out his brows and said, “Together or separate?”

Everyone lost their shit.

Except you. Except Aurora and Wooyoung. Except Yunho.

Yuna, distracted by the shouts, the shoves towards her, she blinked about the room and said, “Both.”

Souls lips perked into a small smile as he glanced away from her. “Mm,” he hummed, “Six times together? A lot of times separate…”

San lurched forward, both of his arms snatching Aurora by the waist, holding him against her as he shouted at Soul, “Six?!” Wooyoung gave him a glare.

“How many times separate?” Yuna asked.

Ryujin, reading the room much faster than anyone else, smacked Yuna on the thigh. “Shut up.” She looked over to Jongseob laughing with Jiung. “Thought we could only ask once?”

He assumed his game master role and cleared his throat, his smile dying down, the occasional snicker sneaking out. “Right, right, you can’t ask multiple questions, my bad,” he said, half assed.

Reluctantly, you turned toward Mingi. You could feel someone’s eyes on you, and lo and behold, it was your boyfriend. His heavy stare spoke to you. If you hadn’t opened your mouth, if you hadn’t said anything, she would’ve never asked Soul that question. You knew that. His glare didn’t help, it made you feel worse. Whirling away from him, you looked toward Aurora and swallowed hard. Stone faced, she sat on San’s lap looking out at the rowdy bunch before her on the floor with a distaste pulling at her lips.

As if she were better than all of them. All of you.

Your guilt disappeared in seconds.

The game moved along, the bottle passed from Ryujin to you after another innocent question for Keni about Yeosang. With the glass in hand, you spun it around and debated gulping some of it down like Yuna did, but your head already spun and your vision blurred more than it was when you were downstairs. The glass in your hands, utter power. You could ask anyone anything, you could make anyone do anything you wanted, and they had to do it.

Meeting Jongseob’s eyes, his expression shifted into one that shot through you down to between your legs. He wanted you to ask anyone anything, he wanted you to make someone do something… Anything and something that would create waves and cause problems.

“Yunho,” you said, and like when he chose you, some of your friends wore confusion on their faces. He didn’t move his eyes from the floor. With a single raise of a brow he bobbed his head, wanting to be anywhere but here. “Truth or dare?”

He lifted his hardened gaze. “Dare,” he spat, and a few exclaims of interest sounded around you.

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in the room,” you said without taking a breath, and watched as he clenched his jaw and tightened his fists around his knees. This could be it. This could be the moment shit went down. You wanted it to be.

“Really?” he sneered. “You got that from that Perks movie, care to be a little more original?”

You smiled. “Do it.”

“Fine,” he sighed and leapt onto his feet. Aurora reacted behind you, sinking further into San’s hold, back into his chest. Staring at you until he took a few steps over toward your boyfriend and grabbed his face, he squeezed his eyes shut and planted his lips on Mingi’s, shouts and screams breaking out over the plot twist tainting your master plan. “There,” he said, letting your boyfriend go. Tapping his cheek with his slender fingers, Yunho nodded once and sat back down on the floor.

Mingi, dumbfounded, drug his fingers over his lips and glanced around the room, Jongho laughing at him, swatting at his arm.

Rolling your eyes, you ignored Yunho’s smug little grin and handed the bottle over to Keni.

From Keni, to Yeosang, to Wooyoung, to Aurora, the four of them kept it less exciting than the first half of the circle, a whole bunch of truth’s all of you already knew of happening at once. The moment Aurora passed the vodka to San, everyone perked up.

With a charming smile, he shouted, “Yuna!”

Jongho groaned as his girlfriend sprung up straight.

“Truth or dare, sweetie,” San cooed.

She smiled and bit down on her lip. “Dare!” The energy in the room woke back up, the sophomores leaning over the table toward her again, their eager eyes darting from San to Yuna in anticipation.

Wiggling his finger, signaling for her to spin around on Jongho’s lap, he said softly, “Dare you to show us that lil kiss again, please.”

“Fuck yes,” Jiung muttered.

It didn’t take much more convincing. Yunal, clearly plastered, scrambled to straddle her boyfriend and deep throat his tongue.

“Oh my god,” Ryujin groaned with a smile, shaking her head toward the boys. “You guys are gross.”

“It’s hot,” Intak said, jaw slack, eyes on Yuna.

“Moving on!” Ryujin shouted, waving her hand at San to pass the bottle along. Yuna fell backward, her and Jongho giggling together. “No one can ask them to do that again!”

Intak shot her a look. “Then I’ll ask you two to do what I really wanna watch,” he said, making sure Jeongyeon was looking at him. You kicked your foot into his thigh under the table. “Ah!” he cringed.

“Don’t be a perv,” you snapped.

Intak leaned over the glass. “Would you prefer I ask you and Aurora?”

Jongseob appeared behind him and dug his fingers into his friend's hair, yanking his head backward. “Enough,” he eyed the bottle of vodka and cocked his chin. “Keep going.”

The bottle passed through Soul, over to Intak who didn’t ask what you thought he would ask, both boys keeping it light, asking one of their seniors about their first time, targeting both Seonghwa and Yeosang, like they planned to ask them both. When Jiung held the vodka, he pursed his lips and glanced around, everyone seeming like an excellent target, until he landed on you.

“Tori,” he smiled. You rolled your eyes. “Truth or dare?”

Sighing, you settled against Ryujin and shrugged. “Dare, I guess.”

Jiung blinked and his eyes went dark. “I dare you to kiss Jongseob.”

All of the air had been sucked out of the room. Blood running cold, your throat tightened and panic set in fast. Ryujin gripped onto your knee. No one moved. For the first time, no one had anything to say aside from Yeosang who let out a disapproving hum, shaking his head toward Jiung.

Jongseob raised his hand, taking the attention off of you, off of his friend. Wearing compassion on his cheeks, he gestured toward Mingi, then you. “I just… No.”

Jiung whipped his head around. “You said nothing was off limits.”

“I know,” Seob chuckled, placing his hand to his chest. “But, that feels really wrong. I can’t do that. We can’t have her do that.”

“Do it,” Mingi said without an ounce of aggression in his tone.

Every being in the room stared at him, eyes wide, surprise between their teeth, even yours. Aurora, brows flipped to oblivion, sat forward off of San’s lap, eyes bouncing from you, to Mingi, to Jongseob, to Jiung, and back.

Your boyfriend shrugged. “What? It’s a game, right?” He aimed his question at Jongseob who feigned his own shock.

“Course,” the boy nodded. “It’s a game, but… I’ll let her pass this once.”

You exchanged a glance with Mingi, one you absolutely could not read. Whatever went through his head, you couldn’t figure it out. You couldn’t see it, you couldn’t place it.

“Do it,” he shrugged again, gesturing to Jongseob.

“Tori,” Aurora said from San’s lap, the sound of her voice and your name jarring. With a snap of your neck you shot her a bewildered look, and her don’t do this expression aided you in your decision.

Without acknowledging Mingi one last time, using Aurora and her plea to get you off your ass, onto your feet, and over to Jongseob, you grabbed him by the neck, ignored the gasps behind you and his fake ass shock he wore on his face, you yanked him into you and kissed him.

You kissed Jongseob.

In front of the entire room. In front of your boyfriend.

Alcohol driving this bus, you dug your fingers into his neck and parted your lips to deepen the kiss, giving Jiung exactly what he wanted, exactly what Jongseob wanted. His lips, warm and full, they knew how to work, and they knew how to work with you, even for your first kiss, he already knew how to work you. Tasting of alcohol and adultery, your heart ignited in your chest, flames engulfing your inhibitions, moving your hands up into his hair, tugging at the dirty blonde shag that drove you insane.

It didn’t have to be this way. You’d been dared to kiss him, not swallow him whole.

But, this could be your only chance. To kiss him. To touch him.

The moment your hips wanted to grind into him you pushed him away, and the stifled laughter and gasps that had continued around you bled back into your ears. Jongseob, cheeks pink and lips wet, he cleared his throat and looked away from you. Narrowing your eyes at the pretender, you took a deep breath, mustered up the courage to turn around and wedge yourself back between your friends, and did just that.

You didn’t dare look at Mingi.

Your adrenaline, your excitement, your arousal, it outweighed your guilt.

The game moved on.

Seonghwa, bottle in hand, looked over at Yunho, and the giant curled up into a ball sighed heavily and shook his head. “Truth or dare?”

Yunho blinked blankly. “Truth.”

“When was the last time you spoke to Mina?” Seonghwa asked, tone dripping in utter sincerity, genuine curiosity. The name sent a chill through the room. Peeking at Aurora, her eyes were sharp, staring at him.

Reaching into his pocket, Yunho pulled out his phone and scrolled, and scrolled. “Uh, when school ended. Little over a month ago.” He spoke quietly. He was afraid to say it.

And the game moved on.

The bottle rounded the circle, the bottle made everyone laugh, made everyone answer ridiculous questions, say absurd things, and then Aurora got it in her hands, her eyes having barely left Yunho since he answered Seonghwa’s question.

“Truth or dare?” she asked, and Yunho gulped.

“Me?”

Aurora nodded.

“Uh,” he stammered, sparing Wooyoung a glance. “T- D- Truth.”

She didn’t miss a beat. Sitting forward on San, she clutched the bottle with a glare and perfect posture. “Why’d you text her?”

Yunho’s eyes bugged out of his head. “I- I- I didn’t,” he said, folding his legs beneath him and his hands onto his middle. You peeked at his fingers. He was trembling. “She texted me.” Everyone watched them like ping pong.

“Why?” Aurora asked, and just as Yunho parted his lips to speak, Jongseob cut them off.

“Gotta wait your turn again,” he policed, and a majority of the room groaned to themselves, as if he’d just shut off the television in the middle of a crucial episode.

Sitting back against San, settling back into his touch, she lobbed the bottle behind her and he took it. Disappointment washed over her as her eyes dropped to the floor, and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. Accidental, you think, but it made her lips pull into a frown, her eyes glossing over. She held back tears. Soul watched her with broken hearts flowing out of him toward her.

And the game moved on.

The bottle rounded the circle, and it ended up in Jiung’s hands once more.

“Tori,” he said, and the room groaned. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you said, sitting up straight.

Jiung tilted his head, toying with his ginger curls for a moment. “Why did you think Seob was the ITZ texter? The number you don’t know?”

Now immediate panic set it. Confused looks faced you, mumbled questions of what the fuck is he talking about. Mouth gone dry, you shook your head.

“What ITZ number?” Ryujin asked from beside you, trying to catch your eye, but you could only focus on Jiung. Not an ounce of malice lived within the question. He asked you genuinely.

Looking at Ryujin, he blinked, then turned to you. “The one texting you about sex stuff?”

Yunho sat forward. “You thought it was him?” He threw a hand toward Seob where he stood.

Mingi shot a look toward his best friend. “You knew?”

“What ITZ number are we talking about?” Yuna asked, glimpsing in a million directions at once, unable to keep up with the commotion.

“Wait,” Aurora said, strength in her tone, raising her voice. The room quieted some. “The ITZ phone number?” Glaring at her, she glared right back.

Yes, the ITZ phone number, the texts you read at the bar when you did drugs and couldn’t stand up on your own.

“It’s been texting her since you all got here. Juicy messages, too.” Jiung turned to Yunho. “She thought it was you, but she just asked Seob if it was him downstairs.”

Aurora let a singular laugh tumble from her chest. “You thought Yunho was sending you sex stuff?”

Holding up a hand, you started, “I realized it wasn’t him before-”

“This number, ITZ, I’ve been thinking is some secret group chat with all of you in it,” she pointed at each of your friends, “You thought it was Yunho?”

Ryujin and Yuna, they shook their heads, they didn’t speak, they waited.

The chill of being found out had flushed through you, now your blood ran red hot. “Why do you care if it was, Aurora? You only care about one thing now!” You tossed a hand over Jeongyeon toward Wooyoung who gave you his infamous grimace.

Aurora slapped her hand to her chest. “You kept it from me.”

Because Aurora needs to know everything.

Groaning aloud, wanting to tear your hands through your hair, wanting to throw the shot glasses off of the table and flip it as well, you sat up to your knees. “Why do you care! Because you still love him? Because you miss him? Because if that test gave you a plus instead you’d be pushing out his kid right now?” Ryujin latched a hand onto your arm, and Yuna gasped, both of her hands squishing her cheeks together.

Nobody moved. On the edge of their seats, every single one of them.

“Tori, shut up,” Ryujin demanded.

You flung her arm off of you. “No!”

Yunho stood to his feet, his cheeks flushed of all color. If you didn’t notice him trembling before, it stood out now. “What?”

Aurora released a shaky breath. “Yunho, I-”

He never raised his voice. Sure, a passionate man, a loud man, his volume often grew out of control, but never through anger. Never through pure frustration. He never scared you, but in this moment, he did.

“You couldn’t have broken your stupid ass rule to at least tell me that?!”

His voice echoed, ringing against the glass in the room, the bottles, the table, the shot glasses. His voice struck not only you, but everyone in the room. Aurora.

He fled the scene, his long legs removing him from any and all narratives in seconds. Aurora stumbled off of San’s lap, a sob escaping her as she chased him down the stairs. Wooyoung sprung to his feet, his grimace upon you once more.

“That’s your girl for you, Wooyoung,” you sneered, and he scoffed.

“You think she didn’t tell me?” His words pointed a gun to your heart and pulled the trigger. “News flash to you Tor, and anyone, since you’re all invested when it’s none of your business- Ro and I weren’t anything until we went home for winter break. Before any of it, we were friends.”

Curling your lip, you spat, “You’re her therapist.”

Wooyoung settled his jaw. “We communicate, Tori. Not shocked you don’t know what that looks like.”

Silence followed as he took himself out of the room and down the stairs.

Intak, with a rich smile pulling at his lips, he took the bottle of vodka from Jiung and filled up the shot glasses. Each sophomore took one, even Soul. Hongjoong reached for two and handed one back to Seonghwa who avoided eye contact with anybody. San took a glass as well, holding it up toward his president before gulping it down.

Jongseob, licking his lips, eyed you where you sat as he wandered behind Intak, taking the bottle from his hands. Just like you, everyone on the couch behind you, the girls beside you, you sighed, silent plea’s for this to be over.

He looked at Mingi and gestured toward him with the bottle.

“Truth or dare.”

Glancing toward your boyfriend, he gave you a side eye, then answered, “Dare.”

Jongseob smirked. “I dare you to read the last text you received out loud.”

Taking his time, Mingi wiggled out his phone. Popping open his messages, he took a deep breath and released it with a ragged sigh. Blinking fervently, he read it aloud, and you wanted to be sick.

“Forgive me,” he started, and Jongseob smiled. “I’ll do anything you want me to do, I’ll be your good girl,” he paused to gulp, not letting sounds from anyone deter him from finishing reading, “I know who I wanna play with. Let’s play, I’ll be so good for you.” He slapped his phone to his thigh.

“Goddamn,” Jongho laughed, nudging him with his elbow, nearly pushing him off the edge of the arm rest.

A lump lodged into your throat. Bile rose within you, you wanted to scream, but could only manage to whisper, “Who the fuck sent that?”

“Oh my god,” Yuna mumbled, covering her mouth, and everyone seemed to react just the same.

Everyone had thought that message came from you. They assumed it came from you.

Mingi narrowed his eyes, they drew all over you, then met your glare. “Tori…”

“Mingi,” you said louder, standing up, hands balling into fists. “Who the fuck sent that message?”

Your boyfriend stood to his feet, sliding his phone back into his pocket. Confusion warped through him, and it lingered. “You did.”

“No the fuck I didn’t?!” you shouted, scrambling to get a hold of your phone.

Tilting his head, he froze, looking you over. Then, he looked at Jongseob and his shit eating grin.

“Tori, check your fucking phone,” he grumbled, every muscle in his body tensing, his ears turning red, the color bleeding into his cheeks.

Swiping through apps, you landed on messages and tapped through them. It didn’t live in his thread, the last messages you sent to one another were from yesterday and what snacks he wanted you to bring to the beach.

“Mingi, I didn’t send that fucking message, I-”

Breath caught in your throat.

Tapping onto the thread with ITZ, that message resided there. Sent over an hour ago, just after the are you okay message from ITZ themself.

Looking up at him, you found him walking toward Jongseob, his fists tight at his side.

It was Mingi.

It’d been Mingi this whole time.

ITZ, the unknown number, belonged to your very own boyfriend.

Frozen in shock, in subtle betrayal, in amazement that he’d been able to pull this off, you couldn’t stop him from grabbing Jongseob by the collar of his shirt, one of his fists hauling backward before he launched it into his jaw. Every other person in the room leapt to their feet, the boys rushing in to pull the two apart, shouts echoing through the air, but never penetrating your ears.

Jongseob sent the text.

And Mingi received it.

Mingi, who through anonymous text message, told you he wanted to set up… a threesome.

And Jongseob read that.

Jongseob who curated that message, had known Mingi would read it, played innocent throughout this game of truth or dare so that when the opportunity arose for one of his friends to dare you to kiss him, Mingi would allow it.

Because he was under the impression you’d chosen Jongseob.

Wooyoung is quick, but I am quicker.

Mind if we come play?

Checkmate.

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#all of the teezers will be here too dw #nice for what #ggg #ateez x reader #mingi x reader #mingi smut #mingi angst #ateez angst #ateez smut #mingi x you #mingi x y/n #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez x female reader #plumverse #pwon is here too hehe #piwon be here

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