#I have so many wants but I feel like I'm not exactly good enough for anybody and those wants will just be wishful thinking forever

[rintinningvt]

Started watching the Bayverse movies with my besties and... Are we just too gay for these movies??? Admittedly we only finished the first two and got through a quarter of the third, but the second one was such a drag to sit through at times and it probably doesn't help that we do NOT care about Sam that much. I hope that there is a character arc for him in the rest of the third movie. Because so far he has not been fun to watch in that one. He just comes off as a slight manchild to me, like... I can see why he would be frustrated with where he is in life but the way he acts with others and lashes out does not help him in the slightest. I do have to admit though that seeing him go to Cybertronian Heaven in the second movie was the funniest part for me and my besties lol.

I'll just hope that the other guy in the next movies will be at least a bit more interesting. Doesn't even have to be a good guy, just an interesting guy for me lol

[billygoat26]

Guys- moots who know me well enough kind of-

I'm not simping solely for fictional characters anymore-

...

I hate this, it's weird, I wanna say something to them or at least one of my other irl friends but I'm too scared that 1: they'll judge me and 2: they'll TELL HIM. Dear god I do not need that-

BUT IT WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE (aka it's been on my mind for a few hours too long)

Yesterday, pool party with friends, right?

I knew that he did some workout stuff but I still was NOT prepared- (me, who was fully expecting him to wear some form of his normal outfit but for the pool- noooooope! Shirtless- very unprepared)

And listen, I knew I at least sort of like-liked him before cuz you know, personality and all that stuff, but come onnnn- like- what do I do now??

And then they were playing chicken fights in the pool or whatever the game is called, and after that they were standing on each other's shoulders and pretending to walk on water (We all had just endured a bible unit in our English classes)

He had offered for ME to stand on HIS shoulders- and for that to happen, you know, they gotta swim under, right? Well, we both have the dirtiest of minds (I also just have shitty balance so I was not about to try that anyways. That was the main reason on my mind but I thought of the other stuff after).

I don't even know if I have blushed since elementary school, but if I did then, then thank god for the sun because sunburnsssss

And then he couldn't find his shirt after we had all gotten out, and one of my other friends said that he didn't need the shirt (jokingly) and dear god I wanted to agree (verbally) but I'm too worried about my whole bullshit being too obvious if I did, so I just had to stay quiet. (He ended up not finding it and just having to leave cuz his parents were there)

But that- that day- just... that. It's not. Leaving. My. Mind. Alone.

[earlgreytea68]

Okay. It's time for an AI rant.

My nephew is 13 years old. Whenever he writes a paper for school, I check it over and fix all of his mistakes for him. He said to me, "Maybe I'll proofread your paper for you in exchange," meaning one of the scholarly articles I write for work. I said, "Cool," and gave him the file. And he said, "Well, this is full of errors! See, you always say you have a lot to correct on my stuff, and look at all the stuff you got wrong!" And I said, surprised, "What? Where?" Because I'm sure there are typos in the draft I sent him, but not, like, that many.

And then he pointed to the screen and said, "Look at all the blue and red lines you have."

And I said, "Yeah, but those are wrong. Like, those are blue and red lines I'm ignoring because the computer is wrong." And then I paused and added, "You know you can't proofread a paper by just looking at the red and blue lines, right?" And he gave me the blankest look, because that clearly is EXACTLY what he thinks. And it became even clearer suddenly why, whenever I correct something on his paper, his immediate reaction is, "It didn't have a blue or red line."

There's a very good reason for that: THAT'S BECAUSE THE COMPUTER ISN'T SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT IT WAS WRONG.

I am so tired of being sold the idea that computers are better than humans and so we should just outsource everything to them, which is clearly the lesson my nephew is absorbing in U.S. middle school. COMPUTERS ARE NOT BETTER THAN HUMANS. Like, maybe they are better at humans at crawling through rubble to find people trapped inside. They are also better at preserving things in a searchable format. Things like that. Very limited circumstances.

I don't want to sound alarmist but everything I hear about people using generative AI freaks me out. It's not just that I'm freaked out by people being like, "I use it to write novels!" (Although I don't see how they do, I have tried to have it write fiction for me and the output was truly terrible.) But I recognize my bias around creative writing and so no one needs to credit my views on artificial writing. But! Other things are alarming, too! "I use it to brainstorm x, y, or z." But...why? Why not just...use your own brain...to...brain...storm? The computer doesn't even have a brain to brainstorm with! And you might be like, "But it comes up with things that my brain would never think of!" So would other people! You could also brainstorm with other people! Or even through Google to see what other people have thought before you (not AI). Please don't belittle the wonder of thinking.

I just feel like the marketing around generative AI boils down to "Wouldn't it be easier not to use your own brain to think about things?" Everyone. No. It would not be. Please just trust me on this. I'm not just an old person who is out of touch with technology or something. I promise. USE YOUR BRAINS. IT WILL BE OKAY.

[medicinemane]

Seriously, it would be a mercy to kill me. I'm begging for help dying. Do you not see why it's fucking torture to keep my alive while living with her? I'll never escape her, like there's just no practical way to make it happen

And yet, till I get my act together and find a way to die already, show must go on

[porcupine-girl]

An important message to college students: Why you shouldn't use ChatGPT or other "AI" to write papers.

Here's the thing: Unlike plagiarism, where I can always find the exact source a student used, it's difficult to impossible to prove that a student used ChatGPT to write their paper. Which means I have to grade it as though the student wrote it.

So if your professor can't prove it, why shouldn't you use it?

Well, first off, it doesn't write good papers. Grading them as if the student did write it themself, so far I've given GPT-enhanced papers two Ds and an F.

If you're unlucky enough to get a professor like me, they've designed their assignments to be hard to plagiarize, which means they'll also be hard to get "AI" to write well. To get a good paper out of ChatGPT for my class, you'd have to write a prompt that's so long, with so many specifics, that you might as well just write the paper yourself.

ChatGPT absolutely loves to make broad, vague statements about, for example, what topics a book covers. Sadly for my students, I ask for specific examples from the book, and it's not so good at that. Nor is it good at explaining exactly why that example is connected to a concept from class. To get a good paper out of it, you'd have to have already identified the concepts you want to discuss and the relevant examples, and quite honestly if you can do that it'll be easier to write your own paper than to coax ChatGPT to write a decent paper.

The second reason you shouldn't do it?

IT WILL PUT YOUR PROFESSOR IN A REALLY FUCKING BAD MOOD. WHEN I'M IN A BAD MOOD I AM NOT GOING TO BE GENEROUS WITH MY GRADING.

I can't prove it's written by ChatGPT, but I can tell. It does not write like a college freshman. It writes like a professional copywriter churning out articles for a content farm. And much like a large language model, the more papers written by it I see, the better I get at identifying it, because it turns out there are certain phrases it really, really likes using.

Once I think you're using ChatGPT I will be extremely annoyed while I grade your paper. I will grade it as if you wrote it, but I will not grade it generously. I will not give you the benefit of the doubt if I'm not sure whether you understood a concept or not. I will not squint and try to understand how you thought two things are connected that I do not think are connected.

Moreover, I will continue to not feel generous when calculating your final grade for the class. Usually, if someone has been coming to class regularly all semester, turned things in on time, etc, then I might be willing to give them a tiny bit of help - round a 79.3% up to a B-, say. If you get a 79.3%, you will get your C+ and you'd better be thankful for it, because if you try to complain or claim you weren't using AI, I'll be letting the college's academic disciplinary committee decide what grade you should get.

Eventually my school will probably write actual guidelines for me to follow when I suspect use of AI, but for now, it's the wild west and it is in your best interest to avoid a showdown with me.

[ailoda]

updated: 09.02.25

ᯓ★ smut

Delirium (✘): stranded in the middle of the alaskan wilderness with no means of communication after being exposed to a foreign drug, you're reluctant to accept help from the one person who has a shot at saving you. - avenger!reader (@flowersforbucky) (warning: sex pollen, i.e., dub-con, explicit verbal consent prior)

Special Girl (❤❅✘✧): being friends with benefits definitely has its perks, especially when the friend in question is as hot as Bucky Barnes - but when you're feeling insecure about the arrangement, Bucky makes it clear to you that you're more than just a friend. @kinanabinks) (warning: mentions of neglectful childhood)

Scary? My God, You're Divine (❤✘): your marriage to Bucky Barnes was crucial in stopping the rivalry that had been getting rather violent recently between the two families. You agreed to it. But there was one little problem. Although people knew of Bucky as being a ruthless, fiercely loyal, and feared hitman, no one had ever seen his face. In the rare occasions when he’d been seen out during assignments, it was rumoured that he always wore some sort of mask which covered most of his face. So you ended up marrying a man, and had no idea what he looked like. But surely that wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not like his one touch would get you addicted. Who cared what he looked like? It’s not like you could grow to love someone like him anyway… right? - mob!au (@sinner-as-saint)

Sting (✘): TattooArtist!Bucky praising you during a session. (@adrinktostopyourthirst)

↪︎ Fling (✘): your tattoo artist left you hanging and you’re fed up enough to come and collect his excuse. (part two)

Blurred Lines (❤❅✘✧): when choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you. (@ellemj)

Closer (✘): you’d never felt like this before, it was like some primal instinct deep down inside of you. You just needed to be close to him. The only problem was that you were already wrapped in his arms and it still didn’t feel close enough. (@tom-holland-parker)

Water Proof (✘): Bucky Barnes is pretty sure that his arm is water proof. He'd been in water with it before. Turns out his arm can handle water, but not p*ssy juice. (@vivwritesfics)

Book Boyfriend (✘): Bucky is better than any book boyfriend. You'll prove it to him. (@navybrat817)

In Your Arms I'm Born Again (❤✘): you want to find out exactly how many times is too many times for the super soldier. (@bonky-n-steeb)

What Are Friends For (✘): when you threaten to swear off men for good after your last bad date, your neighbour and friend offers to help change your mind. (@gogolucky13)

Down Bad (✘): Bucky using his metal hand as a vibrator. (@flowersforbucky)

I Hate You (✘): after ending up on SHIELD's radar, you're moved into the tower against your will. Of course, you can't stand the one man that you have the most in common with. (@ellemj)

Play Pretend (✘): when Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help. (@wkemeup) (warning: sex pollen trope, i.e., dub-con)

A Quiet Escape (✘): during a holiday stay at Clint Barton’s home, you’ve been desperately trying to steal a moment alone with Bucky—your super-soldier boyfriend—but the Avengers are constantly interrupting. Between Clint’s kids, Steve’s “bromantic” grocery runs, and Nat pulling Bucky into sparring sessions, it feels like you’re constantly fighting for his attention. Frustration finally boils over when you confront Bucky about your lack of privacy, only to discover he’s just as eager for some alone time as you are - and willing to do anything to get it. (@thebarneschronicles)

Revenge Sweeter Than Honey (✘): when Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious? (@thevillainswhore)

Caught Myself A Cute Little Doll (✘): the Winter Soldier caught himself a cute little doll. (@sergeantbarnessdoll)

Pretty Little Thing (✘): your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it’s impossible to avoid serving him for the first time. (@marvelouslizzie)

Now or Never (✘): based off the prompts "You know my door is always open for you, right?" and "You're already wet sweetheart." (@fandoms-writings)

Touch Starved (✘): this was inspired by a tweet and his gif I saw on twitter. You accidentally walk in on Bucky touching himself when he thinks he is alone. Turns out he is thinking about you. (@mrsbuckybarnes1917)

I Don't Want You Like A Best Friend (❅✘): Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. (@brunchable)

↪︎ Part Two (❤✘): it's only been a few hours since you've become official and Bucky want to show you just how much you mean to him.

All's Well That Ends Well To End Up With You (❤✘): Bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together. (@flowersforbucky)

Stay For A Fortnight (✘): “yes, ground rules,” you sighed, forcing your eyes to rest on anything but him, “it’s just you and me here for two whole weeks, so we’ll need to come up with a plan.” (@thyme-in-a-bubble)

Devil's In The Backseat (✘): a night at coney island with your friends turns out much differently than expected, or getting fucked in front of a mirror. (@flowersforbucky)

Sesame & The Sweetheart (❤✘): you've been on a few dates with Bucky now, and the sexual tension is at an all-time high. After another cute date, you realize you can't keep your hands off him for very much longer. (@kinanabinks)

new! Heartwood (❤✘): after Sam’s party, Bucky begins to navigate uncharted territory as he works to balance his growing feelings and lingering insecurities in his blooming relationship. - lumberjack!bucky (@vunblr)

[nanaslutt]

the best teacher

ʚ synopsis: Nanami finds out you've never had an orgasm and he's determiend to show you exactly how to do it

ʚ pairing: Kento Nanami x reader

ʚ cont: fem reader, established relationship, inexperienced reader, he talks you through it, fingering, clit play, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, masturbation, protected sex, prone bone, rough sex, big dick Nanami, fluff

ʚ note: congrats @l0rdgeosupport3rr on winning my spur of the moment fic giveaway, i hope u enjoy <3

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI (18+)

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Are you nervous?" Nanami asked, his deep voice right against your ear seeping into your head and making your brain turn to mush. His hands dragging from your thighs to caressing your torso was quite distracting as he sat behind you, your back against his hard chest. You could feel his excitement poking you in your lower back, making you wonder how much he was holding back right now.

You had confessed to your boyfriend Nanami when a makeout session got a little hot and heavy, that you had actually never touched yourself. Well, not successfully anyway. It took everything in you not to cower away when he sat you down in front of him and made you explain exactly what you were having trouble with. You confessed you wanted to take things further with him, but you were nervous. Every time you touched yourself, you would bring yourself right up to the edge, but you could never manage to push yourself over the ledge and feel that bliss everyone always talked about. 

Nanami, the ever-loving boyfriend he was, generously offered to help you out. Nanami hadn't had many partners before you, but he did read romantic and erotic books in his free time and maybe went a little above and beyond in biology class when the topic of discussion was women's bodies. Kento never wanted to make anyone uncomfortable with his actions if he were ever to be intimate with someone, so he studied like hell to make sure that never happened. 

"Don't be nervous, sweetheart. I'm gonna walk you through it okay? Just leave everything to me, all you gotta do is relax and pay attention." Nanami whispered against your ear, his reassuring words making your body relax and melt against his. "Good girl." He praised when he felt your shoulders go slack against him. Nanami continued to rub his hands up and down your soft thighs, one hand caressed your stomach and hips and the other crept up your skin to squeeze your breast through your bra, making you bite back a moan on instinct.

Nanami noticed you holding back your sounds, and dragged his other hand to massage both breasts now, squishing them together and kneading them in his large palms. You rolled your head to the side and tucked your face in Nanami's neck, pressing your thighs together as the stimulation sent jolts of your head to the bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

"You don't have to hold back your voice with me. You can be as loud as you want, just let it out. I know it feels good." Nanami praised, crossing his hands over your chest and sliding his right hand under the cup of your left breast, and his left hand under your right one. Nanami felt his cock twitch when you released little gasps and moans into his neck, your breath tickling his skin. 

He resisted the urge to fuck his hips against your ass, not wanting you to think he was trying to rush you. The older man found your hardened buds under your bra and pinched them softly, rubbing and twirling them with his fingers. Both of your hands shot up to grab his thick wrists for comfort as you squirmed against him, rubbing your thighs together to bring yourself some relief. 

"Does that feel good, honey?" Nanami asked, looking down at you from under his lashes. He couldn't see your face, as you were still hiding it in the crook of his neck, but your noises and the way you nodded rapidly agaisnt him were good enough. "Does your cunt ache?" Nanami asked, licking his lips as he watched you hump against your thighs. "Mhm." You responded, your body jolting and shaking against his as he rubbed your nipples expertly with his large fingers. 

"Good, you should always warm your body up first before you touch yourself. Don't rush, get excited. Wait until you can feel yourself dripping." Nanami instructed, his vulgar words making you want to shy away from him even more. "I need to know you're listening. Do you understand?" He asked, pausing his ministrations until you gave him a proper answer so he knew his teachings would not be in vain. 

"Yes." You whispered against him, making Nanami crack an almost unnoticeable smile at your bashfulness. "I'm gonna rub your pussy over your panties now," Nanami warned you, waiting for a nod of understanding before he pulled one of his hands out from your bra and started dragging it down your body. He flipped his hand and just barely ghosted his fingertips down your body, dragging them down your skin as he made his way to your thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

Little gasps and choked breaths from you made him pull his bottom lip between his teeth as he tried to restrain himself. "Part your legs for me, please," Nanami asked sweetly, waiting until your legs were spread before he hooked his legs over yours, making it so that if the stimulation got too much, you couldn't snap your legs on his hand while he got you off. "H-haah.." Your breathing seemed so loud in the now suddenly quiet room and Nanami did the same motion he did down your body, just teasing his fingers over your knees and down to your sensitive inner thighs.

"Kento..." You whined breathlessly, rocking your hips into the air out of impatience. Nanami's resolve faltered for a moment when your ass started grinding back on his cock, giving him the perfect stimulation. His eyes rolled back in his head as he lost himself for a moment, relishing in the pleasure. "You want me to touch your pussy?" He teased, his voice deeper and more aroused sounding than before as his lips tickled over your ear. 

You slightly leaned your head away from him, exposing a bit of your neck and the side of your face to his lips. Kento pressed a featherlight kiss to your ear, making goosebumps raise over your arms before he spread his fingers like a V and teased them around your cunt. He let out a sigh with you, his cock twitching when your hands squeezed his wrist that held your tit tighter.

"Please Ken, I need it." You begged, spreading your legs further to emphasize your words. You couldn't take your eyes off his hand that teased over your pussy, not yet touching you where you needed him the most. Kento massaged your breast in circles, using the fat to calm himself down when he felt a bead of pre-cum leak from his aching dick into his boxers. 

"Is this what you need?" He whispered sensually against the shell of your ear as he pressed his thick middle finger along the center of your pussy, dragging it against your clit, down to your needy hole, which had now soaked your panties with your juices. You let out a gasp and tipped your head back against his shoulder, exposing your neck as your eyes fell shut in bliss. 

"This spot here is important," Nanami spoke between kisses against your throat, his eyes half closed in bliss. He tapped his thick middle finger against your clit, before he pressed down on it and started rubbing it in circles. "Oh fuck-" You gaped, your chest inflating as you sucked a deep breath into your lungs. "You need to touch your clit like this if you want to cum." Nanami instructed, making sure you were nodding after every sentence he spoke.

"Uh-huh, u-u-huh." You moaned, nodding dumbly as you relished in the feeling of Kento touching you through your panties, your greedy hole clenching around nothing at his touch. "How do you touch yourself? You said you have trouble finishing, are you touching your clit like this?" Nanami asked, making your face rush with blood. Your cheeks felt hot as you opened your eyes and looked between your legs. Nanami watched you watch him from the corner of his eye, waiting for you to speak. 

"Y-yeah." You tried to speak, your voice coming out breathier and more stuttered than you thought it would. "It gets really i-intense the closer I get to..." You trailed off, darting your eyes to the side of the room. Nanami raised his eyebrows and rubbed his fingers faster over your clothed clit, his cock throbbing when your voice hitched and your moans raised in volume. "You can say it. It gets intense before you orgasm, right? That's why you can't finish, your body goes rigid, doesn't it?" Nanami said, hitting the nail right on the head. 

You nodded at his words, taking a moment to greedily take air into your lungs when Nanami ceased his rubbing and nonchalantly started sliding his fingers underneath your panties. "Y-yeah, f-fuuuck." You began to speak again when your words were cut short as Nanami started rubbing his bare fingers against your hot, wet clit. It felt ten thousand times better than him teasing you through your panties.

"It feels so much better after teasing yourself right? Your body is worked up and ready for more, it's aching for it. You nodded, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you whined into the room, your moans echoing off the walls. You were unable to stop your hips from jerking into his hand when he started rubbing your clit with two fingers more rapidly.

"I-its you," You gasped, your nails digging into his thick wrist that held your tit. Nanami cocked his head in confusion, waiting for you to elaborate. "Y-you, it feels good b-because it's you," Nanami swears at that moment his brain short circuits as he fights every neuron in his body to not send signals to his dick to cream his pants right now. "You really..." Nanami trails off as he slides his hand out from your bra and grabs your neck, tipping your head to look up at him.

His lips collide with yours in a passionate, needy kiss. His lips move quickly, wasting no time before his tongue was mingling with your own, making your already needy pussy throb for more. "Gonna put my fingers in." He moaned between kisses, his eyebrows furrowing when your humping got more needy, and your ass rubbed his cock just right from behind. 

Your lips separated from his own with a gasp as he slid a finger down to your tight, sopping entrance and pressed it in. Both of you moaned in tandem when he slowly slid his finger in till the base of his finger was pressed against your entrance. "I'm gonna need you to put what you learned to use for me sweetheart, can you do that?" Kento asked, releasing the hold he had on your neck, settling just to rest his hand on your throat. You nodded at him, feeling yourself pulse and squeeze around his thick finger that stayed still inside you.

"Go ahead and rub your clit for me, small circles, just like I did." He instructed. You reached your shaky hand into your panties with his own and found your clit which was already wet with your juices from Nanami's previous touches. "Good girl." Nanami praised you as you followed his instructions. The second you started moving, Nanami did do. "A-ahhh-" Moan after moan fell from your lips when Nanami started curling his finger inside you and thrusting at the same time, sending intense shocks all throughout your body.

"This is your g-spot, some people can cum just from touching this spot here, but most of them need clitoral stimulation as well," Nanami said. You did your best to nod along with his words and listen in general, but the stimulation was so intense, it was making your head spin. "Ah ah, keep moving your finger." Kento tsked, slowing down his own when he saw how lazy and slow your fingers got while rubbing against your clit. It wasn't your fault he was making your body go slack. 

"We have plenty of time to figure out if you can cum just from penetration another day." Nanami voices, pressing his soft lips against your cheek in a kiss. "Right now I'm focused on bringing you to orgasm." The way in which Nanami so causally talked about these things made you dizzy. Sex and things of the like were usually taboo and embarrassing to talk about, but not to Nanami, and he was determined to make you feel the same way about it.

"I'm gonna add another finger okay?" Kento asked, slowing down his thrusting inside you. "Yeah, uh-huh." You responded, half listening to his words. Nanami smiled to himself as he watched your eyes fall shut, your finger now rapidly rubbing circles against your clit shamelessly as you lost yourself in the pleasure. Nanami pulled the first finger out and slowly reinserted it with a second one. He spread his fingers a bit as he slid them inside your warm walls, trying to stretch you out so you were able to take something bigger later on.

You winced in discomfort when he scissored his fingers inside you, but that discomfort soon diminished when he curled his fingers against that same spongey spot against your walls, making you see stars behind your eyes. "H-harder, Ken fuck me harder." The man behind you was unable to suppress the groan that slipped between his lips from your shameless words, his hips canting against your ass, rubbing his cock against the inside of his boxers at your shameless words. 

"For a virgin, you're surprisingly needy. You sure you haven't done this before? Did you just want me to baby you?" Kento teased, picking up the pace of his fingers as he spoke. Moan after wonton moan spilled from your lips, your body thrashing and jolting against his as the pleasure from your g-spot and clit combined to form a ball inside your stomach. "N-no, I haven't I- promise." You stuttered out, gasps and whines cutting you off as you got closer and closer to the edge. 

"I'm teasing, sweetheart. You are close though aren't you?" He asked, noticing how your pussy clenched around his fingers more frequently. "You gonna cum for me? Gonna orgasm all over my fingers?" Nanami groaned, the squelching from your sopping cunt going straight to his neglected dick. "F-fuck yes, I- I think so y-yes." You cried, thrashing your head from side to side agaisnt his chest.

Your hand that still held his hand against your throat squeezed tightly. He noticed your fingers slow down on your clit at the same time, a telltale sign that you were close. Nanami had a feeling you needed both clitoral stimulation and penetration to get you to reach your high, and he was determined to make you finish. "Doing so well my love, keep rubbing your clit, you can't stop, okay? I know you can do it, almost there." Nanami's reassuring words helped you focus on putting all your strength into your finger that rubbed back and forth agaisnt your clit.

Suddenly, your chin was being pushed up and Nanami's lips connected with yours in a sloppy kiss once more. Kento groaned into your mouth at the feeling of your pussy constricting his fingers. His wrist started to ache from curling his fingers against your tight walls so repetitively, but he knew if he stopped, you wouldn't cum. Your desperate whines and moans against his lips aided in fueling his tired wrist to continue on and finish you off.

"Kento- I'm- I'm cumming-" You whined high pitched against his lips, your legs shaking as they fought to push against his own that held yours open. It was getting harder and harder to kiss him back as your body went ridged, your mouth opening in a wide O, and your eyes rolling back in your head. "That's it, right there, yeah-" Nanami's own jaw dropped and he watched with awe as your body convulsed with pleasure.

He moaned with you as if he was cumming himself, his body curling forward with yours as you came, your legs shaking and cunt trambling around his fingers. Your own hand had stopped rubbing your clit, just resting against it as you came, no longer having the strength to touch yourself as you orgasm for the first time. Nanami continued curling his fingers against your g-spot until the spasms had stopped and you slapped his wrist with your hand, letting him know it was getting to be too intense. 

"Fuck- fuck-" You gasped, your body stayed curled over yourself as Nanami leaned back, separating his chest from your back. The sound of a zipper followed by rustling, then skin rubbing on skin brought you down from your high completely. When you tried to turn around, Nanami pushed your upper back down again, forcing you to stay bent over like you were. You could hear his heavy breathing and gasps from behind you. You knew exactly what he was doing. 

Leaning forward, you placed your hands on the bed in front of you and spun around, sitting on your knees between Nanami's thighs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you did so well." Nanami praised, looking into your eyes as he stroked himself off. Your eyes trailed down to his thick cock, and you gasped in awe at the size of his cock and how wet and flushed it was. He must've been really holding back. 

Nanami's large hand caressing the side of your face brought your attention back to his eyes, away from the mess that was between his legs. "Don't worry, I'm almost done. Just couldn't take it anymore." Nanami rushed through his words, obviously drunk off your orgasm. Your heart was racing out of your chest. You wanted to help him but you had no idea how to. It seemed unfair for you to get off with his help and not give him the same treatment in return.

A moment of confidence washed over you, and you reached out to grab his wrist, stopping him from touching himself. "Sweetheart really, I'm almost there, it's oka-" "Use my pussy." Your words hit Nanami like a freight train. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He squeezed the base of his cock tightly to prevent himself from busting a nut all over himself right then in there from your words alone. 

"What?" Nanami asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. "You can fuck me." You said again, nodding at him. "You... you stretched me out, right? I can take it." Nanami swallowed hard and pulled his lip between his teeth, his head knocking back against the pillows for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. He didn't want to pressure you into doing something you weren't ready for, although you seemed to really want it. 

Nanami released his cock and cradled your face with both hands, making you look into his eyes. "Are you sure?" He asked, summiting to the idea surprisingly quickly, you were expecting a little more pushback. "I'm sure." You nodded, placing your hands over his own that held your face. Nanami's cock twitched, bobbing heavily between his legs in the open air, hastily pulled out from his boxers and pants. "Then... please lay flat on the bed with your stomach against the sheets.

Your heart raced as you listened to Nanami rip the condom package open behind you. The pillow he stuffed under your hips before you laid down was putting a nice pressure on your pelvis, making you squirm in anticipation. A large hand pressing into the sheets by your head brought you back to reality. You saw the shadow of Nanami's much larger figure behind yours as he hovered over your body, stroking his cock over your ass.

"Keep your thighs together, you can even cross your ankles over one another, I read that feels good for some women." You felt like cumming already. Nanami's show of intelligence about the female body made you want to scream, but you settled on nodding, wrapping your arms around the pillow under your head for support as you let out a noise of understanding. 

"If it becomes too much or you need to stop at any point, let me know," Nanami instructed, waiting until he heard a verbal answer from you before he readied himself. Nanami took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, reminding himself not to get carried away or be too hard with you. "Okay, relax for me," Nanami instructed. His large hand gripped your thigh to pull your ass to the side so he could get a better view of your pussy from the back as he prepared himself to put it in. 

"Nanami, I can take it. I'm not going to break." You whispered into the pillow, words Nanami made sure not to miss. You closed your eyes when you felt Nanami's chest tickle against your back. A kiss was pressed against your temple, making you shut your eyes as the kiss was lasting. "Thank you, sweetheart. You always take such good care of me." Nanami whispered into your ear as he rubbed his cock agaisnt your hole.

You felt a heat rush over your skin at the feeling of his hard cock touching your cunt. It felt weird, hot, hotter than you imagined. Nanami gripped his cock hard at the base and pressed his fat tip against your hole, thrusting his hips forward against your ass slowly as he inserted his cock inside you. The two of you gasped in tandem when his tip penetrated your walls and his cock split you open.

Nanami watched as your eyes rolled back in your head, your pussy clenching and squeezing mercilessly around him. "Please, r-relax your cunt honey, I can't get inside you if you're like this," Nanami begged, feeling his orgasm build up inside himself already. It had been a while since he last got laid... a long while, he knew he wasn't going to last long, but neither were you, so it would work out perfectly. 

"It's not me- y-you're so big." You whined, trying to relax your cunt around him but it didn't seem to do anything at all. Nanami bit his lip at your words and dropped his chin to look at where the two of you were connected, his cock throbbing against your walls at the sight of your tiny cunt sucking him in perfectly. "Yeah? My cock is big?" Nanami teased, his voice deep and raspy as he fully pressed his hips flush against your ass, smiling to himself when you tried to scoot your body up on the bed, trying to escape how deep he was inside you.

"Y-yeah, fuck-" You whined, crossing your ankles over one another. Your clit was being stimulated between your thighs, bringing you the perfect relief as Kento slowly thrust his cock in and out of you. "Can you feel how deep it is inside you?" He asked, emphasizing his words with a mean, hard thrust, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. The way you were squeezing your thighs together made the stimulation and pleasure on his end ten times more intense, as each time he pulled out, his cock was still being squeezed by your ass and thighs pressed together. 

"'S so deep-" You whined, your eyes rolling back in your head. Nanami's resolve snapped at that moment. You sounded so fucked out and horny, he was unable to stop [ his hips from moving into yours. He quickly found a pace as he thrust his cock inside you, your pussy squelching with every thrust. Each time he fucked his cock inside your walls, it felt like your intestines had to expand to make room for his girth, but it was all rewarded each time he rammed his hard cockhead into your sweet spot so deep inside you.

"Oh god, right there!" You cried, your body jolting when Kento angled his hips in a way that allowed him to slap his cock into the most sensitive part of you with each thrust. Nanami placed his other hand by your head, allowing him more momentum to fuck into you as he was in a steadier position. "Yeah, right here? Is this your sweet spot?" Nanami cooed, feeling his balls throb with the need to fill you up with each thrust.

You nodded dumbly, drool dribbling out of your mouth and onto the pillow from how lax your mouth was. Nanami wanted to kiss you so bad, but he didnt want to move too much and jeopardize the position he was in right now, as he was fucking into you just right. "Do you need me to play with your clit?" Nanami offered, feeling his orgasm creep up on him faster than he expected, even though he knew he wasn't going to last.

"N-no, I'm gonna f-finish like this." You cried, tensing your pelvis and abs as you felt your own high grow closer and closer. Nanami nodded at your words, his eyes darting between your ass that ripped with each thrust and your eyes that rolled back in your head each time he pounded you. Nanami brought his hips back enough to where his cock was almost completely pulled out of you, just his tip remaining inside your walls before he slammed his hips agaisnt your ass, shoving his entire length inside your cunt.

You were unable to speak as your high washed over you unexpectedly like a freight train. Your entire body went tense, and your cunt squeezed impossibly tighter around Nanami's cock like a vice, making him stutter in his thrusts as you came all over his cock. "Oh god-" Nanami groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head and his head dangling limply in front of him as your pussy pulsed rhythmically around him. 

"I'm cumming, c-cumming-" Nanami did his best to warn you before he finished, but his orgasm caught him off guard much like your own, so he was only able to groan out a small warning before wonton groans and moans were spilling from his lips and his cock shot hot ropes of his seed into the condom. Nanami's body jerked and his abs clenched as he came, hard.

His hips stilled against your own, just twitching and jerking as he came inside you. You could feel his cock kick and throb as he filled up the condom, the warmth from his seed burning your walls and warming you up from the inside out. Kento hissed as he pulled out of your tight cunt, apologizing when you made a sound of discomfort as well. You forced your tired body to roll over to the side to look at Nanami.

The man looked disheveled and exhausted. A deep blush spread across his face and down under the V of his collared shirt, his hair was ruffled and his forehead was dripping with sweat. He looked so focused as he slid the used condom off his softening cock, letting the heavy appendage fall against his thigh as he tied it in a knot and placed it on the edge of the bed for himself to throw away later. 

He found your eyes once he was finished, a smile gracing his features as he tucked his cock back in his boxers and crawled over to you, wrapping you in his embrace. He rested his head on your chest as you cradled his head with your arms, your legs wrapping around his torso. "You did so well for me, made me feel so good sweetheart, I'm so proud of you." 

You nuzzled your head against Kento's, feeling your heart swell. "Thank you for trusting me." You said, referring to when you told him you were ready and you could take it. Kento lifted his head and leaned forward to press a kiss against your lips. "Of course my love." He responded. "I need to clean you up soon, but I understand if you need a minute to recover," Nanami said, laying his head back down on your chest.

Although he felt sleepy, he knew he had to fully take care of you first before he let himself drift off. You just lost your virginity and just had an orgasm, you were bound to be a little emotional and more fragile right now. "A few more minutes." You replied, feeling your body melt under the comforting weight of him. You felt so loved and protected as he laid on top of you, pressing kisses to your chest and collarbones.

[moonstruckme]

Heyyy! So I'm obsessed with your writing! Your EMT series might be my favourite thing I've ever read.

I was wondering if I could request an EMT Marauders x reader story where she gets really sick but thinks it's nothing and downplays it to them, only for it to end up being Pneumonia or something. And maybe they feel guilty for not realising it sooner?

I know you've probably already written something similar to this so no worries if you don't feel like writing it but I'd love to see your take it if you decide. Hurt/comfort is my favourite trope in the world. I just can't get enough of it!

I hope you're doing well!

Thanks gorgeous, hope you're doing well too <3

cw: pneumonia

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You make sure there’s plenty of honey in your tea when the boys get home. 

“Hi,” you greet them, pleased when your voice comes out semi-normal. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” Sirius flops onto the sofa, nearly on top of your curled-up legs. “How was your day?” 

You try to keep your answer brief, your cough plied into submission with honey and warm tea but not for long. “Good. Got some things done.” 

You don’t mention that after every one of those things you’d had to have a thirty-minute lie down, or that many of them involved disinfecting surfaces you’d accidentally coughed near. 

“Being sick isn’t an opportunity to get things done.” Remus sinks into his chair, leveling you with a reprimanding look. “You’re supposed to be resting.” 

You shrug. “The only reason I haven’t been at work is because—” A couple of coughs fight their way out of you. James’ expression pinches as he sits on the arm of Remus’ chair, but thankfully the fit passes quickly. You take another sip of your tea. “Because I don’t want to pass it to anyone. I think I have to go back tomorrow, though.” 

Sirius makes a soft tsking sound. The boys are all still in uniform, his tattoos peeking out from the short sleeves as he traces looping circles on the side of your knee. “But you’re not better yet.” 

“Yeah, but I’m running out of sick days.” 

James frowns. “How long has it been?” 

You bring your tea to your lips, avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’ve been out for a week.” 

“But you were sick for a while before that,” he says. “What is that, ten days? Eleven?”

You shrug. 

Sirius is looking up at you with a puckered brow. “Do you feel like you’re getting better?” 

“I think so,” you say optimistically. It’s quickly undermined, however, when you’re caught up in another coughing fit. You have to set your tea down to keep from spilling it, holding a tissue over your mouth. 

James’ eyes widen, and Sirius sits up to rub your back. 

“That doesn’t sound very good,” James says. 

“No,” Sirius agrees. He reaches to feel your face, but you brush him away. 

“Don’t-—ack—don’t get too close. I don’t want to get you sick.” 

“I’m not gonna get sick, you baby.” He pushes past your hands. “Let me do my job.” 

“You just got off work.” 

“Yeah, well,” his voice softens, taking on a sympathetic hum as he lays his palm flat to your hairline, “maybe I maybe I was talking about my boyfriend job.” A pause. “I think your fever’s gotten worse, my love.” 

You whine. “Really?” 

“‘Fraid so. Have you noticed your symptoms getting worse at all?”

“I don’t” —you cough and reach for your tea again— “think so.” 

“Dove,” Remus says warningly. 

“It’s hard to tell,” you admit. “It’s moved around.” 

“Like where, honey?” James asks. 

“Like, in my…” You feel your throat contract, another fit brewing. You touch a hand to your sternum to avoid speaking. 

“In your chest?” Remus infers. 

You nod. 

He hums and moves to sit on the coffee table, his knees touching yours. You try to warn him away, but Remus shushes you gently. “Let me look at you.” 

He brings one hand to your face, feeling the way Sirius had, and touches the other to the pulse point on your neck. His touch is gentle and cool against your warm skin. You don’t know what exactly he’s looking for, but you find yourself fighting the urge to fall asleep in the basin of his palm when it slips down to hold your cheek. 

“You don’t need to talk,” says James, “but just nod yes or no, okay? Have you noticed yourself feeling more tired lately?” 

You nod tentatively. 

“Yeah? Less appetite?” 

You frown. “I don’t think—” You’re cut off by your own hacking. 

“One week off work, and she completely forgets how to follow instructions,” Sirius teases, rubbing your leg. 

“Terrible patient,” James agrees. 

“Alright,” Remus says once your fit ebbs. “I don’t have a stethoscope, but can you turn sideways for me?” 

You do, confused. Remus puts his ear to your back. You must make an odd face, because Sirius grins at you, reaching over to pinch your chin affectionately. 

“Take a deep breath,” Remus instructs. 

You try, but it doesn’t get far. Your lungs expand maybe halfway before you’re coughing again, horrible, wracking coughs punctuated by stabbing pains in your chest. Remus sits up after a few moments, rubbing your back. 

“Sorry,” you manage. 

“Why are you sorry?” Sirius pulls you into him, cradling your head to his chest. “That sounded like it hurt, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Remus answers for you, brows bent with sympathy. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. At least now we can get you some medicine, though.” 

You cough weakly. “You can?” 

“Sounds like pneumonia?” James asks Remus. Your boyfriend nods. 

Sirius coos, petting your head. “I’m sorry, baby. I was thinking it was just a cold.” 

“It’s not your fault,” you croak. “I was, too.” 

“Feels like we ought to have known the difference, though,” James admits. When Sirius gets up, he’s quick to take his spot, tucking you underneath an arm. 

“Where are you going?” you ask Sirius. 

He’s putting his shoes back on. “To get someone to write you a prescription. The sooner we get you on antibiotics, the better. It’ll give you something to show your boss, too.” 

“I don’t need to come with you?” you ask hopefully. 

He winks, grabbing his keys. “Perks of knowing people at the hospital.” 

“Perks of flirting with the doctors, he means,” Remus mutters after he’s gone. 

“Hey,” James laughs, giving his boyfriend’s knee a playful squeeze, “it works out for us, doesn’t it?” 

“Sometimes,” Remus allows. He fixes his gaze on you. “Anything we can do to help you feel better, sweetheart? Do you want to try a hot bath? Steam would be good for you.” 

You look down into your now cool mug. “Could I have some more tea?” 

He takes it from you with a kiss to your head. “What a silly question.”

[lollixp0p]

The Video (18+)

Pairing: Best friend!Hwang Hyunjin x afab!reader

Genre: Smut (MDNI), bit of feelings

Word count: just under 3k!

Warnings: Idol!au, subby!Hyunjin, slightly perv!reader, recording, (maybe a bit dub con because he doesn't mean to send it but reader watches it anyway), mommy kink, masturbation (both but separately), Hyunjin fantasizes about reader, reader fantasizes about Hyunjin, lmk if I missed anything!!

Summary: Hyunjin finally gets some alone time after weeks of hard work and decides to use his time to... relax. The next day he ends up sending you something on accident that sets off a big change in your lives, with or without either of you really realising.

Note: My first ever fic!! :3 Inspired by a video I saw on phub. (@cbini (Ems isn't on Tumblr rn she still wanted to be tagged so I hope it's ok), @comet-falls, @hyunsvngs, @mnwrld and @skz-hell lmao hello everyone, writing blog reveal!!😁 here's this fic I've mention to all of you as an anon<3 (depending on who you are I'm either ❄️anon, 🐾anon or sounding anon😳)). To anyone reading this please give me literally any feedback (comment, reblog, anything!), I want to know if this is good or not since it's my first fic🙏😣

Please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works!

It's been exactly three weeks since Hyunjin's had any time for just himself, though it feels like months at this point.

Recently everyone's been running around like headless chickens and between vocal trainings, dance practices and the studio, there hasn't been much time to just relax and recharge. Preparing for a new album really is the busiest time of an idols life.

There hasn't even been time to see family or friends, which is common during busy spells like this, but always dissapointing to think about. Now even more so, with how much he's been wishing to spend time with you, one of his closest friends... who also happens to be his crush. Not that he'd ever let you know though, not in a very long time.

It feels almost like a blessing, getting back to the dorms from practice late in the evening and realising... he's got the place all for himself, at least until his roommates get back from the studio.

Changbin had messaged him earlier, telling him that they'd probably be there well past midnight, so there was no use waiting up for them. To him though, this was the very opposite of an issue. With that much free time, he'd definitely be able to... make himself comfortable, so to speak.

See, not having time to relax also means he'd basically had no time to get off. The best he'd been able to do had been quick little sessions barely once a week in the shower right before passing out on his bed from the exhaustion of working hard.

The realisation that he'd be able to do anything he wants during his time alone is enough to get his dick twitching in his jeans and he decides the shower can wait until later.

Hyunjin goes to his room and locks the door after himself even though he's alone, it's just become a habit after so many years living with his members. He sets his bag down next to his bed and thinks through his plan.

Hyunjin has a little secret, which is that he loves recording himself do dirty things that range from more vanilla to much less vanilla. Something about the thrill of being recorded even if no one will ever see it just... makes him so fucking horny.

He opens the camera of his phone, puts it to video mode and presses record. Moving his hand off the lense and setting it down where he normally sets it, on the carefully placed pile of books on his desk, he sits down on his bed.

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", Hyunjin sighs with a pout and brushes his hair out of his eyes. He knows the camera won't see it though because he's made sure the stand, his pile of books, is at a level that cuts off his head perfectly.

Hyunjins hands run down his body slowly and he exhales deeply, just loud enough to get picked up by his phone. Once they reach his jeans he unbuttons them, unzips the zipper, then pulls the jeans down just enough to expose his underwear. Hyunjin pulls his shirt up over his stomach to be held in place under his chin, rubs his hand over his bulge and hums.

It's been so long since the last time he's been able to take his time making himself feel good. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he's getting hard.

He takes his dick out his boxers and then spits on the palm of his right hand. It's dirty and wet but it just turns him on even more. He grabs his dick with the hand and slowly moves his fist up and down, to spread the saliva and precum all over his dick to make the slide easier and wetter but to also get himself to full hardness.

"A-ah, ohh... that's so good... Feels-fuck, feels so good", Hyunjin sighs. It really won't take him too long to cum, he just knows it. He's been pent up for far too long.

He tries to think of something to help his issue and immediately thinks of you, no matter how embarrassed or dirty it makes him feel.

When you first started showing up in the dirtiest corners of his mind he felt so ashamed. Now it doesn't matter to him anymore. You'll never find out so why feel bad?

He continues to move his hand on his dick while thinking of you. The last time the two of you had time to hang out together you'd worn the lowest cut shirt he'd ever seen on you. He had tried so hard to act normal around you but whenever you bent down he'd been able to see into your shirt.

"Haah, fuck..." , he squeezes himself a little harder at the memory. Everytime you moved he could see your bra poking out from the top, black and lacy. The entire time he'd been doing his best to not bust in his pants. Oh, what he'd give to be able to see your tits. They always looked so soft and they'd probably fit perfectly into his palms.

Whenever the both of you would hang out at yours, watching movies and just hanging out, you never bothered to wear a bra. Why would you? It is your house where you want to be as comfortable as possible.

The feeling of laying down on your couch watching a movie with you on top of him, in just a t-shirt, will end up driving him mad one day. Everytime he'd felt your nipples poking into him he'd almost moaned out loud.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!", he lets out pathetically, moving his fist faster. God he just wants you to use him, to do anything you want to him. The thought makes him whine desperately.

One of the most common fantasies for him is you on top of him using him to get off, not caring about if he's close or not. You'd sit on his face and ride it until you cum. He could probably cum untouched like that. All he'd need was tasting you and seeing you cum, just for him.

All the sudden he remembers the phone recording him and he shudders. He imagines what your reaction would be to seeing him like this. Would you be disgusted or delighted? Would you tell him what to do and how to touch himself? Maybe you'd touch him... He hopes you would.

"Mommy... please touch me, aah- oh!", he runs his thumb over the head of his cock just right and his thighs twitch but he keeps them open, in perfect view to the camera.

Throwing his head back he imagines you riding him. You'd be so tight and wet around him. Maybe you'd tie his hands behind his back so he wouldn't be able to touch you... he'd really like that. You'd feel godly around him, Hyunjin thinks.

"Fuck, oh fuck! Mommy I'm-haah, I'm so close, please!", his dick twitches desperately. You're so gorgeous, to him you're the sexiest person he's ever seen. He feels himself getting so close that tears spring to his eyes.

"Ah- 'm gonna... mommy, gonna cum...!", he whines out long and loud. It takes Hyunjin two more strokes to let go and he cums the hardest he's cum in weeks. He doesn't even register whispering your name. Hyunjin leans back on his left hand and keeps stroking himself through it.

The feeling is overwhelming, so much so that his thighs start twitching pathetically and the tears in the corners of his eyes fall. He's getting incredibly overstimulated but he keeps going, wanting to keep enjoying the feeling, just a bit more.

He squeezes himself one last time and suddenly everything on him feels gross and dirty. He's just had the best orgasm in weeks so it's no surprise that he came a lot, everywhere. He even managed to get some on his chin.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone. It takes a while for him to come down from the high, the twitchiness and the feeling of euphoria lingering in his body. Once he's capable of standing up again he stops the video.

With his body feeling like jelly, he takes off all his clothes, drops them into his hamper and prepares to shower, at last.

Hyunjin wakes up to his alarm the next day feeling more refreshed than he's felt in weeks. He shuts off the still ringing alarm and quickly gets up from his bed to get dressed and go eat breakfast.

Checking the calendar on his phone to make sure he knows his schedule for today, he makes a note of one thing; he'd have a lot of time alone at the dorms today too, since he's only got a dance practice and a recording session today, which obviously means 3racha will stay behind to stress about their songs while Hyunjin can return early. Maybe this time he should continue the latest piece of art he's been working on after he gets back?

Hyunjin gets through the day well enough.

After eating breakfast he messages you a "Good morning pretty <3 please remember to drink water!" like every morning when he has time for it. He gets to the practice room only five minutes late, which is a record this early in the morning, because usually he ends up sleeping in at least ten minutes (which makes Chan scold him for being such a heavy sleeper).

He does well at practice, even though he ends up a little exhausted. That's nothing new though, with how hard they always work to be the best they can be.

The rest of the members leave to take a break but Hyunjin decides to stay behind to film the solo choreography he's been working on for fun. Once he's happy with how it's turned out, it's time for him to go record his lines.

The recording session goes smoothly, without hundreds of retakes and everyone's satisfied with the result. Afterwards they decide to order some take-out, as a reward for a job well done... and also because they're all feeling too lazy to even think about going to the dorms to cook.

While eating Hyunjin finally realises to check his phone again. "Good morning, take care of yourself too!! :)" is your response to what he sent earlier. It's nothing more than a kind response but it makes him grin to himself like the fool in love he is.

"Yaaah!! Hyunjinnieee, what's making you smile so beautifully?", Changbin leans towards him with his signature flirting-with-Hyunjin grin, mouth half full of rice.

"It's nothing," Hyunjin responds back to him cheeks red, "and don't talk with your mouth full hyung... Do you not have any respect?"

Changbin decides to drop it in favor of eating more delicious food.

"Oh come on... we wanna know!!", Han pouts at him from his seat on the couch in the room. Hyunjin shoves another mouthful of food in his mouth to avoid the embarrassement of explaining how a single text messaged from you manages to make his heart beat out of his chest.

Once Hyunjin's done eating he's free to go back to the dorms and just like he suspected the rest of his dormmates stay behind to work some more, although they all whine at him to stay to explain the previous mystery. He declines and they all keep their sad puppydog eyes on him until he's out the door.

He keeps texting you during his ride, all the way to the dorms. Once he's in his room Hyunjin decides to just change into some clean clothes. He's too excited to talk to you and get to painting, he can wash up later.

He lays in his bed to keep texting you and at some point your conversation changes from how your day's been going to talking about dancing and he mentions how he just today filmed a new choreography bit he's made for fun.

❣️:

Can I see what you've been working on? :)

I'm sure it's really good, you always are!!

Jinnie:

Well... since you asked so nicely😉

[video sent]

Quickly sending the video Hyunjin exits out the messaging app, feeling so giddy he can't help but squirm around on his bed. He still can't believe someone like you could be interested in seeing him dance.

It might seem like a small thing for most but he feels himself turning red just thinking about the way you look at him while he talks about something so important to him. It makes the butterflies in his stomach every time you're near go crazy. It's so attentive, like you actually care and are interested in his interests... and maybe even...?

'No' , he thinks to himself. There's probably no way you could ever actually be interested in him, not in the same way he's interested in you at least.

He leaves his phone charging and finally gets out of bed to go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He'd need it if he wanted to stay up late to work on his newest art piece.

Hearing the familiar 'ping' notification of receiving a message makes you open your phone again and just like you thought, Hyunjin had sent you the video of his latest masterpiece of a choreography. Not waiting a second you press the video just to see.... Hyunjin take his hand off the camera and set the phone down on the desk in his room he draws on. He sits down on the edge of his bed and says something, you aren't really sure what, because the volume's too low. In confusion you turn it up more.

Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair out his face, probably. You can't see it though, because the camera cuts his face perfectly off frame. Suddenly his hands run down his body to the button on his jeans. He opens it and starts undoing the zipper next. You just look at the video in shock. 'He isn't about to... to take them off is he?', you think to yourself, just as he pulls the jeans down enough to expose his white boxers and then palms his bulge.

Should you stop watching? Keep watching? How long has it even been playing? How long does it keep playing? While you wonder this you almost miss Hyunjin pull his hard dick out of his underwear and spit on his palm and... Oh God...

You've now done something you can never take back. The downright sinful view of his cock is something you don't think you're ever going to be able to forget. How do you even face him after this? After watching him grasp his dick in his hand and pump it a couple of times to spread the spit and precum around.

You exit the video, panting and absolutely soaking through your underwear. Your other hand rushes to your face to feel your cheeks. They're burning and feel like you've been standing out in the sun for hours, when in reality all you've done is accidentally watch your best friend play with himself.

You struggle to decide what to do with the video and in the end save the video without much thinking, then delete the message of it and decide to notify him of his mistake. As long as he doesn't know you saved it, it should be fine, right?

It takes Hyunjin less than 10 minutes to make and get the coffee. He returns to his room humming the tune of a song he's had on repeat recently. Setting the coffee down on the desk and taking his phone off from the charger he notices new messages from you.

❣️:

Uhm...😕

Hyunjin, I don't think you meant to send that.

He looks at his screen confused. What did you mean by that? He...

Oh God.

Did he send the wrong video?

Frantically opening the video he sent earlier he sees himself, in video, move his hand off the phone camera and set it down the desk near his bed and sit down. Oh no...

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", video Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair from his eyes. His head may be out of frame but he clearly remembers pouting while saying this. He watches himself slowly unbutton and unzip his pants, adjusting them so that his boxers are clearly visible in frame. In the video his hand drifts towards his crotch slowly, teasingly.

He quickly exits the video and promptly shoves his head under his pillow and yells. He'd accidentally sent the wrong video while hurrying to get a cup of coffee. How could he have messed up this bad? In his panic, it takes him a moment to respond.

Jinnie:

Oh god

I'm so sorry!!

Please don't watch that!

❣️:

Don't worry!!!

I stopped watching the moment you started unzipping your pants😖

I saw nothing, promise!🙏 It's been deleted already!! 

Little does he know though, you'd kept the video. You're not really sure why, but subconciously your brain keeps screaming' to finish it later, of course'.

...

Fuck it, you don't think you can wait until later.

Taking a deep breath, you open your gallery to find the video he sent you. You hesitate for a second but press play anyway. You can feel how you're already soaking through your underwear but pay no mind to it yet.

You watch him do the things you've seen already, all the way until he spits in his hand... and you pause the video. 'Is it right to watch this? I mean, he didn't mean to even send it...', you think to yourself.

But the thought of seeing him touch himself, to hear him make the sweetest noises you could ever in your wildest dreams imagine him making drives you on.

Pressing play again you dip your fingers into your pants. You rub yourself over your underwear and oh my god... you can't believe the wetness you feel after less than a minute of watching the video. You focus on the phone you're holding in your other hand and finally move your fingers into your underwear to directly touch your pussy.

On your screen you see Hyunjin start to stroke himself faster, the head of his dick a dark pink, you can feel his desperation through the screen. Without thinking you move your fingers to your clit and start rubbing it in circles, aided by the wetness of your leaking pussy.

He moans out loud and even though you can't hear it through the fog in your head, you know he's desperate. You move your fingers down to your hole and dip two of them in. You're so wet you barely need to even stretch yourself out and then he does it.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!"

You push your fingers deeper and your pussy lets out he lewdest squelch which in turn makes you close your eyes desperately in pleasure. 'Mommy? When he masturbates he calls out for mommy??', the thought makes you lose your mind. You think about what it would be like if he called you mommy in the throes of pleasure.

You want to make him follow every command you give him. The way he'd look up at you on his knees with you standing above him. Maybe you could make him suck on a strap? He'd look so ridiculously delicious with his mouth full, drool dripping down his cheeks.

You add another finger and start rubbing at your clit with your thumb at the same time. The feeling makes you whimper and imagine his hands on you, teaching him how to touch you perfectly. You're getting so close and you remember to focus your screen again.

Hyunjin looks absolutely disheveled. His dick is red and throbbing, you can tell he's getting close. His voice is another thing that gives him away. He's whiny and his voice keeps cracking every time he opens his mouth. Hyunjin bucks into his hand and moans.

"... mommy, gonna cum...!", he strokes himself twice more and then finally cums. You're so close it's maddening. All the sudden you hear him... whisper your name?

It makes you go off the edge and your entire body clenches and seizes while you silently cry out from all the pleasure you're feeling. Your walls suck in your fingers with how you're clenching around them. On the screen Hyunjin twitches violently, working himself through the end of his orgasm.

You pull your fingers out of yourself and slump down on your bed exhausted, but the last 20 seconds of the video that's now over haunts you. Did you hear him right?

You gather strength to pick up your phone again and rewind the video to the part where he cums and turn the volume almost all the way up. Admittedly you end up fixating on the way his dick looks and face twists in pleasure when he cums and then he says, or more like whisper your name. Your brain blanks.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone, sits in place for a bit to properly come down and then gets up to stop the video.

You're wet, confused and you can feel your heart beat out of your chest. What do you do now? How can you ever face him normally after that... Does he feel the same way you do? Is he sure he didn't mean to send it?

It's all too much to think about, so you decide that instead of thinking about it you'll clean yourself up and... crawl into a hole where no one will ever find you. Probably. The only thing you know for sure is you definitely won't be sleeping tonight.

© lollixp0p 2024 | please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works

[thehouseofurmotha]

`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ 𝕃𝕠𝕦𝕕 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕖 ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´★

Pairing: Bakugou x Aizawa's Daughter Reader

Warnings: Fluff, lots of fluff! Bakugou is vry anxious, a lil bit of cussing, possibly ooc Bakugou

Summery: you finally convince your boyfriend Katsuki Bakugou to meet your father. Little do they both know they already know each other.

"Katsuuuuuu" you whine pouting at your grumpy boyfriend. Even though you know that his anger is nothing more than a cover for every other emotion he's feeling, and right now you can tell he's anxious. No matter how many times you have asked him to meet your father you've been turned down with a simple 'I'm not ready yet', and even if you understands the boy's anxiety it doesn't make you any less disappointed.

"S'not that I don't wanna meet him doll, you know I do. Jus' what if he thinks I'm not good enough for you. You're just so perfect, and so calculated. Then m'jus reckless me." Letting out a long sigh afterwards because he really does want to meet the man who raised the girl he's so lucky to call his girlfriend, but he's scared. Rightfully so he thinks, because he really never will be good enough to deserve you.

"Kats, he's going to love you. I know me telling you probably won't end up changing how you feel, but you are good enough for me. You're everything I want, you treat me better than anyone else could, and if my father cannot see that he is painfully blind." You haven't had the heart to tell him who exactly your father is, especially with it being his teacher. You know it would only freak him out more, and that's the last thing that you need to do.

You know your boyfriend honestly probably better than you know yourself. As you've known him since you were in middle school. You can read him in a way no one else can. They see his brash. angry personality on the outside and they immediately assume that's all he is. Is a loud angry kid, but you, you see the parts of him that no one else is allowed to. You see the passion he has, the love he has for saving people, you see his softness. He's a different person around you. You bring out the best in him in ways that no one else could ever dream to do. As he does to you, because he also sees the parts of you nobody else has been allowed to see before. He knows your greatest fears, and the things that inspire you. He's supportive of your dreams as you are his. He'd never judge you, especially about the fact that you're not becoming a hero. Instead opting to take general studies at U.A. where you focus your studies on hero analysis instead.

"Do you mean it?" There's a hint of pain in his voice that would go unnoticed by anyone but you.

"Of course I do" you say as you gently cup his face with your hands. Then he gives you a look, one that is full of love. Love for you, and it's almost enough to make you tear up. But you fight it as to not spook him.

"Okay my love, I'll meet him." He gives you a small smile, and you think your heart may have melted right there.

"How about dinner at my house this Saturday kats? I'll make your favorite and we'll just have a nice evening." You say with an encouraging smile. You know how hard this must be for him and you're so incredibly proud of him.

"Okay, I'll let the old hag know that I'll be out be out for the evenin." He gently leans his forehead against yours after placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You love how gentle his is with you, like at any moment you could break in his grasp.

You giggle as you playfully hit his shoulder, "Stop calling her that Kats." Before he has the chance to respond your phone starts blasting your alarm, telling you that it's time to start your walk home.

"M'gonna miss you." He says as you carefully get out of his lap and stretch as you stand up.

"I'll call you as soon as I'm home, and we can stay on the phone all night." This answer seems to satisfy him as he stands up and gives you a kiss before grabbing your jacket to help you put it on.

"Goodbye katsu, I'll talk to you later." Giving him a peck on his cheek and opening the door to his room.

"Yeah, whatever bye nerd." Even though that would come off as rude to anyone else, it places a large smile on your face as you make your way out of his house. It really is a gorgeous house, his parents have wonderful taste.

As you start on your walk you think about how the conversation with your father will go. He'll more than likely be getting ready for his night-shift of patrol. He knew you were seeing someone but other than that he knew no details. You had never been one to share the details of your love life and he knew that, so he chose not to push. Hoping that you would trust him enough to tell him anything important.

As you arrive home, you put your key in the lock and carefully unlock the door. As you open the door to your guys apartment, you immediately see your father in the kitchen dressed in his hero suit making himself coffee. It was the only way he got through his night shifts. As he sees you he starts to walk over to you before giving you a hug and a kiss to the top of your head.

"Welcome home hun, how's your day been?" He says pulling away and giving you a smile. He knows you can handle yourself but there's a certain relief that comes with knowing that you're safe in your home.

"It's been good, but I've got something to talk to you about." As you say this his heart beats a little quicker, maybe something happened. He's already thinking of every horrible thing that could have happened to you. You gently place your hand on his shoulder taking him out of his thoughts.

"Saturday, my boyfriend's going to come over for dinner. So he can meet you." He sighs in relief, he can handle that. It's simply just meeting the boy who has stolen your heart. He's noticed the way you've changed, since you've started hanging out with that boy. You seem happier, calmer even. But all he knows is that it's been a change for the better, and he can tell this boy makes you happy. So, even though trusting someone else with the care of the most important person to him is terrifying. He knows you're happy and healthy, that's all that'll ever matter to him.

"Alright that's fine, but you're cooking cause you know I can't for shit." You let out a small giggle at this comment, because he really cannot cook to save his life.

"Already planned on it dad!" He could spend the rest of his life like this. In the sweet moments between the two of you. Due to his busy schedule he doesn't get to see you as much as he would like. Even though he knows you don't blame him, and never would he can't help but feel some guilt. He never wants you to feel like he's abandoning you in the way your mother did.

"Alright hun, I've got to leave for patrol, there's some money on the counter for you to order yourself dinner. I should be home around 3. Have a good night, I love you." Once again he plants a kiss to your forehead, with a small smile forming on his lips.

"Thank you, I love you too dad. Have a good patrol!" And with that he leaves for the night.

You spend some time debating on what to get, with the help of Katsuki's opinions. After you get your food and eat you and him both decide that it's time for bed. You fall asleep to the sound of his soft snores feeling the most content that you have in years.

The rest of your week goes by normally. With the same routine of going to school, seeing your boyfriend, and going home. A simple routine but one that you've grown to love. The normalcy of everything is so comforting to you. And before you know it Saturday has arrived. Throughout the day you're excited, you think. You're not actually really sure how you feel, you want to be exciting but then there's the thought of what if it doesn't go well. And now you're suddenly wondering if Kats will be mad that you didn't tell him who your father was. As it gets closer to the time that was agreed upon by the three of you, the panic starts to really set.

This does not go unnoticed by your father as he is an extremely observant man. Yet, for what feels like one of the first times in his life, he doesn't know how to comfort you. He wants to promise you that he'll like your boyfriend but he knows there's always a chance that promise would be broken. And he doesn't want to do that to you. He settles in just trying to tell you he'll be nice. He walks into the kitchen where you've started making curry. You're making two kinds because you know your father cannot handle the spice. You don't acknowledge his presence but he's aware you know that he is with you.

"Hey, uh I promise I'll be nice tonight, but I can't promise that I'll like him." He says as gently as he can, but he feels like that last part may have come out a little harsh.

"I know dad, it's not really you I'm worried about. He's just.. He's so anxious but it comes out in a way that's harsh, and I don't want you to think less of him." It was a hard confession for you to make to him. Fearing that he might connect the dots before your boyfriend gets here.

"I'll keep it in mind kid, because I know you're happy. I see it on your face." He walks back to his room as he says that. But it leaves a smile on your face. And it reminds you how much he truly cares about you.

You think about Katsuki the entire time you cook. Thinking about his smile that is so contagious to you. He's smiling and you are too. About his hair, and the way it's so pointy. Yet it somehow manages to be so soft too. His voice that is so loud and harsh with others, but is so gentle and soft with you. You think about the way he looks while he cooks. He'll say he enjoys your food tonight, and he might. But you both know that he is absolutely the superior cook. You think about his handsome face. Everything about it being so perfect and fitting together so well. The red of his eyes, and the small bags that fall under them. Everything about him is so perfect.

Eventually, you're interrupted from your thoughts by a knock on the door. 'Shit' you think is it really already time. You quickly go to open the door and you're pleasantly surprised at the sight in front of you. Your lovely boyfriend dressed nicer than you think you've ever seen. Wearing a nice pair of jeans and a red dress shirt that brings out his eyes. He's also holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"Uh. Here these are for you." He says has he shoves them into your hands. You smile at him.

"Thank you they're gorgeous. Would you uh, like to come in?" No matter how long you guys are together you'll honestly probably always have these small awkward moments between the two of you that you've grown to love.

"Oh uh yeah." He nods his head as he accepts your invitation and walks into your house. Taking a mental note of his surroundings, the place you, the girl he loves lives. He thinks it's simple, but nice, even more than his own house.

"Uh, by the way don't kill me for not telling you." You hear your father start coming down the hall and feel this is your last chance to say anything. And you decide to plead for your life. He looks at you with complete and utter confusion.

"Huh?" He says this as your father walks into the room and as the realization hits him, you see the color drain from his face. You look at your father and he has the same look on his face. Katsuki's seems to be more out of fear and your father's more out of shock.

"Y/n what did I say about loud blondes?" He says with a sigh, but you know he's not mad. He may just be trying to freak Katsuki out a little more.

With a giggle you respond, "to stay away from them?" Katsuki looks at you like you're crazy, you can only wonder what's going through his head. You take his hand giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Uh- hi Aizawa-sensei." He says with a shake in his voice. You can tell he's scared and you feel so bad for not telling him. You realize that it was a mistake you shouldn't have hid it from him, you should have just told him. But you don't have time to keep thinking before your father responds.

"Hello Bakugou, I'm assuming you were as left in the dark about this as I was?" Your father sends you a small glare.

"Uh yeah sir I was." He says huffing and shoving the hand that wasn't holding yours in his pocket, as he glares intensely at the floor.

"Msorry- I didn't know how to tell you guys.. I'm sorry." You say meekly, you really hadn't known how to tell them.

"it's okay, m'jus a little shocked." Now it's his turn to give your hand a comforting squeeze. He really isn't mad at you, but he does wish you had told him before. But that's something the two of you can talk about another day.

"I know you make my daughter happy Bakugou, so I'm not mad. And I know you'll be able to protect her. But this will not change our relationship at school, do not expect anything to be easier for you. If anything be prepared for it to be harder, if it's my daughter you'll be protecting." Your father sends a look to your boyfriend that conveys how serious he is about his words.

"Yeah yeah sir, I wouldn't want it any other way." He send a glare straight back at your father, you know this is his way of proving himself to the older man. So for now, you won't get in the way, as long as it doesn't get to out of hand.

"We should probably go eat before dinner gets cold." The two men nod in agreement before you guys make your way to the dining room. You sit next to Katsuki and your father sits on the other side of the table. You give both of them plates before making your own.

"I hope you enjoy it." You say with a weak smile. You watch as the both of them start eating and Katsuki gives you one of those looks that just shows you how much he is in love with you.

"Shit babe, this is so fuckin good." He says before taking anything bite. And this makes you giggle and return him the smile. Your father watches with an amused smirk and he realizes that calming the loud blondes may run in the family.

The rest of dinner goes well, you guys all talk and you father seems to accept of Katsuki. And that makes you happier than anything, seeing the two most important people in your life get along.

A/n: RAAAAH okay so I fear it's late and I'm a little eepy so I kinda rushed the end, so I might come back and change it or I'll js leave it I don't know! But this is the first time in a rlly long time I've written so it honestly probably sucks but I fear it's okay chat. I hope you at least someone enjoyed it!

Pt. 2, pt. 3

[sapphiresandferrari]

His sweet girl

Summary: Aemond catches feelings for one of the girls at the brothel and his brother, Aegon, almost ruined everything

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x ocf!reader

Warnings: emotionally constipated Aemond, cunt Aegon, implied smut, lactation kink if you squint, fluff

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm Rosie and this is my first fic ever

Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, feel free to give me advices or suggestion, just be polite

English is NOT my first language, so apologies if there are any mistakes

Gif credits: @aegonx

Enjoy 🫶🏻

Aemond doesn’t know exactly when se became so important to him.

One night he went to the brothel for his usual service, the last weeks has been hectic, everything was overwhelming, his father’s death, Aegon’s coronation and Luke’s death, so he had to find a way to release the stress that it wasn’t training with ser Criston Cole.

So, when he arrived at the pleasure house, he thought that Madame Sylvi was waiting for him like she usually did for the last weeks, instead, one of the servants informed him that Madame was unavailable for that night, but that she had chosen another girl that would satisfy him as much as she did.

Hearing those words, made him want to turn around and leave, not comfortable with the idea of opening himself with a different woman than the one he was used to, yet something inside of him didn’t want to leave, he thought that if Madame Sylvi has personally chosen this girl, then maybe he should’ve give it a shot and try, see how it was.

After all, she knew him and his needs, especially with all the times they laid together, so he decided to trust her judgement, and let the servant guiding him to the secluded area prepared for him.

Once he moved the curtain, he found a girl, no more than few years older than him, laying on the bed, surrounded by pillows and candles: she was wearing a sheer robe, her hair down, thick and long dark locks were covering her, in her eyes an expression he was having a hard time to decipher, a mix of excitement and fear.

She was staring at him, taking her time to admire the beautiful and stoic man in front of her, he was exactly as the girls at the brothel and the small folk described him: his long silver hair, his purple eye, his fierce aura, he was a mesmerising sight.

As he approached her, he thought that he never saw her before at the brothel, he was trying to remember her small face but he simply couldn’t so he figured that she might be a new addiction there, yet if Sylvi chose her specifically, this means she wasn’t someone new.

He started to undress slowly, taking his time to look at the girl in front of him, her appearance was pleasant, she wasn’t exactly what he was searching, but she still had something magnetic in herself, she had a soft body, with plump breasts and wide hips, her body was different from the one of Madame, yet she still had something comforting that made him at ease right away.

She stood up, taking few steps and stopping in front of him, slightly bowing her head “good evening, my prince, Madame Sylvi apologise that she can’t serve you tonight, but she thought I might be a good enough substitute for you tonight”.

She extended a hand for him, which he took after few moments of silent, noticing how small it was compared to his, slowly walking him to the bed in the middle of the room.

“I’ve never saw you before, when did you start working here?”, he asked, curious to see if his assumption was correct

“Oh, I don’t exactly work here, my prince. My father sold me to Madame when I was a child and she thought I was too young to work here, so she kinda raised me like a daughter, usually I stay upstairs or I serve refreshments, I only work when she specifically asks me to”

So, she wasn’t a whore, not entirely at least, and this awakened something inside of him, he started wondering how many men she slept with, how many she pleased, if she was indeed able to please him as she said.

“Did you sleep with many men before? Are you sure you can serve me properly, child?”

“Not many men, but I’m sure you’ll be very satisfied my prince, and if you don’t trust my words, trust Madame’s judgement”

And so he did, and while he was thrusting inside her soft and warm flesh, he thought how different she was than Sylvi, how tight and wet she was, how her whimpers and moans were shy, how full she was making him feel.

He stayed there after he came, his head placed on her soft breasts, her hands caressing his hair and forehead, their breaths steady, her heartbeat calming, he felt well, satisfied with her service, his thoughts and troubles away for the time she was embracing him.

He told her about his worries, about his dreams, and what shocked him the most, was that she wasn’t afraid to tell him what she was thinking: she spoke calmly, without fear, but still in a respectful manner, not wanting to disrespect him nor his family, it was a rare thing, usually people lie to him or tells him half truth in order to not upset him, Sylvi included.

When he came back evenings after, he hoped to find her again, and he was slightly disappointed to see that Sylvi was waiting for him and not her once again.

Madame realised it too, she could feel a shift in his behaviour, at first thinking it was because of everything it was happening with the war and his family, but when he asked her where she was, her doubts became certainty.

“You don’t want my services anymore, my prince?”, she asked as they laid together after their highs, his head on her lap, curled up like a babe.

“Is not that, I like you and you help me a lot, but it was different with her, she understands me, she is not afraid to tell me the truth and actually gives me advises, she listens carefully and tells me what she thinks, it is a rare thing nowadays, everyone too scared to offend me and have me lose my patience

That’s why I want her to serve me from now on, you were good to me, but I think I found a better match”.

Sylvi wasn’t too pleased about this decision, she enjoyed the evenings with the prince, he treated her with respect, making her feel desired and appreciated, but he was still a prince, and if he didn’t want her services anymore, she had to accept it and move on, at the end of the day, he was still a paying costumer like everybody else, and her last goal was to please him, whether it happened personally or not.

Aemond kept going to the brothel almost every night, gently fucking her and then laying on the bed, his head on her chest, talking about his days, about his dysfunctional family, his plans for the war, and she stayed there, listening to him and caressing his head, and when he wasn’t talking, he was listening to her, talking about the books she was reading or about something she did that day, his lips sucking on one of her nipples lazily, eyes closed, eyepatch discharged somewhere on the bed, hand kneading the soft flesh of her hips.

He loved those moments, he felt at peace, somehow invincible, wondering if he will ever feel like this with another woman, but deep down knowing that no noble woman would be so understanding of him, especially not his betrothed.

It was during one of these nights that his brother, Aegon, had found him, ruining the only good thing he had in his life, Vhagar excluded.

They were there, entangled after their highs, the comfort of her arms making him feel so well, when his drunk brother opened the curtain, revealing himself to him and his mates, not wasting a second to humiliate him.

Aemond immediately got up, sitting there, looking somewhere on the floor, trying to steady his breath, listening to his brother rambling about him “fucking her like a hound”, watching her trying to cover herself for the embarrassment, shielding her body from his brother’s eyes.

He decided to leave, being too angry and humiliated, his brother rambling about searching for Madame to “make a man out of one of the white cloaks” but he found a better amusement after he saw his brother there

“You can have her, brother, one whore is as good as another” he said before taking his leave, the look of disappointment and heartbreaking in her face.

He couldn’t sleep that night, he kept seeing her disappointed face over and over again.

He knew he hurt her, that she had no fault for what happened, his brother was a drunken cunt, and she had to suffer the consequences for his stupid actions.

For days he contemplated about going there and apologise, explaining that he was not expecting for his brother be there, that he hasn’t gone to the brothel in years and he thought it was a safe space for him, away from his brother’s mess, yet he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t go there, relieving the memory of that night again.

In the end he decided to go, he was longing her touch, her softness, her sweetness, ha had to admit to himself (with an enormous amount of strength) that he needed her, so he went there one morning, when he knew anyone would’ve gone there and disturb them.

As he walked the street of silk, he kept thinking about what he wanted to tell her, trying to find the words to explain to her that he was sorry, that he understood if she didn’t want to be with him ever, but that he was still hoping for her forgiveness, since she knew how complicated his relationship with his brother was.

He knocked on the door, Sylvi opening it as he thought, looking at him hostilely

“What are you doing here, my prince”

“You know what I’m doing here, I want to speak with her”

“You hurt her, deeply, I don’t know if she wants to see you”

“Just…just ask her, please? I will leave if she does not want to speak with me”

Madame Sylvi looked at him one last time, before moving towards the rooms upstairs, allowing him to enter the brothel.

She came back a while back, telling him that he can go talk to her, but also to be quick, she didn’t want to give him too much time, she was very hurt by his actions.

He went upstairs, anxious and excited, wanting nothing more than explaining to her, his heart beating fast and hard in his chest at the thought of seeing her sweet face again.

His sweet girl, sited on the bed, a book between her hands, looking beautiful with the sun light, certainly different from the candlelight he was used to

“Good morrow, I know my visit is…unexpected, but I had to come, I had to talk to you”

“Good morrow, talk then, but make it quick, I will have to get ready for work soon, I have clients to take care of”

“Clients? I thought you weren’t fully working at the brothel, I don’t understand”

“After what happened that night, your brother’s guard told everyone how good I was, so a lot of men asked for me and Madame couldn’t refuse them, so now I work full time”

“I’m sorry, sweet girl, I really am, I didn’t want to treat you in such a way” he walked towards her, sitting slowly on the bed besides her, taking her hands on his and leaving some kisses on them “I swear I wish I said something that night, but my pride took the best of me; my brother was there, mocking me like he did when we were children, I couldn’t stay any longer.

Forgive me, sweet girl, you’re the only one I didn’t wish to hurt that night, yet you’re the one who suffered for my lack of temperament”

She stayed there, their hands still entwined, listening to his pleadings, wondering what was the best thing to do, reminding herself that he hurt her deeply, but also that he loved this man so much, that she couldn’t stay away from him any longer.

She kissed him while he was still talking, needing to feel his lips on hers once again, his hands on her once again, his cock deep inside her, feeling her to the brim with his seed, making her his and his only.

As he thrusts inside her, hips snapping, his hands kneading the soft flesh of her hips, they never felt so good in their life, so at peace, so happy.

They kissed and bit and marks each other, and in Aemond’s mind, the only thought was that she was his and he wasn’t going to let any man take her from him, the only good thing in his life.

She was his sweet girl, only his.

[kaleidohscopic]

TRY AGAIN — JJH

PAIRING: jaehyun x female reader SUMMARY: if you could have it your way, you'd never have to see, hear, or even think about jeong jaehyun ever again. a fortuitous blind date, and that same dimpled smile after all those years, is somehow enough to make you reconsider. maybe he was always meant to be by your side. GENRE: exes to lovers! au, slight coworkers! au, romance, angst, slow burn, humour, some pining, a touch of smut WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, too many descriptions of coffee and wine, mentions of sex, general mature content and themes, reader is not good at talking about her feelings, joy x doyoung, i try to write about the complexity of relationships and personal growth (i fail miserably) WORD COUNT: 32.4k NOTE: oh. my god. it's finally here! there's certainly something different about writing for your ult. office scenes inspired by the internship i did at a big 4 firm that ended up rejecting everyone from my department (yes i'm still bitter). i actually wanted to get this out back in august to celebrate jolo but alas, Life. i guess this is a parting gift? (jaehyun i am nothing and nobody without you.) i poured a lot of heart into this fic and posting it feels like letting my child go out into the world alone... be safe my darling xx

You should’ve brought an umbrella. 

The early evening sky was darkening faster than usual, ominous grey clouds hovering between the skyscrapers like an unspoken but imminent threat. Though the ground was still dry, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be for long. Your haste to leave your apartment this morning had robbed you of the good sense to check the weather forecast, mind too preoccupied with tonight’s agenda to spare a thought for the possible torrential downpour that summer seemed to be so fond of. 

A glance down at your feet sent a twinge of annoyance through you. Of course you picked the black pumps to wear today. They were pretty, which was why you had slipped them on in the first place, wanting to make a good impression even if you told yourself you didn’t really care that much, but they were also expensive, and you did not want to get them wet. You said a silent prayer. Hopefully the impending rain would be kind to the leather.

“You better not be flaking,” Joy warned, voice crackling through your phone speaker. “I don’t really care what he thinks of you for not showing up, but it’ll reflect badly on me, and I can’t have that.”

You suppressed a smile. Ever the drama queen.

“I am literally walking out of the station right now. The Italian place, right?” you asked, pausing for a moment at the top of the stairs to gather your surroundings. The restaurant she had picked out wasn’t exactly an unknown location to you, but it had been a while since you last visited, and the buildings seemed to look back at you with a dazed unfamiliarity.

She gave an affirmative hum. “Two streets down from the exit. The reservation is under my name, but I think he might be there already.”

“Yippee. How exciting.”

There was a loud sigh from the other end of the line, and you could almost hear her rolling her eyes at you. “You do know I set this up with your best interests at heart, right?”

“Are you sure it’s not because you were bored and needed to use some poor soul for your own entertainment?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who put three packets of salt in Jungwoo’s coffee,” she fired back. 

Okay, maybe that one was on you. But it had been pretty funny seeing him spit it out all over the office kitchen counter and then meticulously clean up the mess with paper towels, all the while eyeing everyone on your floor with suspicion.

“I’m just saying,” she continued, “give him a chance. I think you guys could really like each other.” There was a pause. “Plus, he’s super fucking hot. Like if I wasn’t happily taken I would be climbing him like a tree.”

“Gross. I’m filing a complaint with HR.”

“Reporting me to my own department? I’ll make sure that file never even makes it through the portal,” she cackled at your empty threat, and you joined in with her. “Seriously though, just give him a chance. At least stay until the mains come out.”

“Fine,” you acquiesced, though you made sure she heard the huff that accompanied it. “But if he starts talking about cryptocurrency I am leaving.” 

Joy only laughed, assuring you he probably wouldn’t, and bid you goodbye with a parting command for you to enjoy yourself. 

On days like these, you couldn’t decide whether you were grateful or unlucky to have been placed on a team with her for your first project at the company. Technically speaking, Joy was your senior by almost two years, but even at that first daily stand-up half a year ago, filled with nervous smiles and clumsy introductions, you had the feeling the two of you would gel. By the time that first project wrapped up, the two of you had long progressed past mere co-workers, having bonded over 8-hour days of Powerpoint formatting and your mutual dislike of olives. You had never been more thankful for someone so vivacious to show you the ropes, and help you settle into the new environment with such ease.

However, Joy was a meddler.

Her meddling was what had you currently navigating the crumbly asphalt in your nicest shoes to meet the apparent hunk she had set you up with. You didn’t know much about the guy since she refused to give you his name, afraid you’d search him up on social media and then make up some excuse to back out once you had seen his face — like you had done with the previous two that she’d picked out for you.

Apparently, this one was from the Digital department, and had been at the company for a little over a year. Those were two out of the three pieces of information that she had deigned to bestow upon you, the third being that he had dimples, which she thought you’d appreciate.

Oh, and now the fourth one being that he was ‘super fucking hot’.

Who knew? Maybe you would enjoy yourself. Getting back into the dating scene was pretty low on your priorities, with your career and trying to stick to a consistent gym routine taking up the majority of your time, but you were never opposed to a bit of fun. 

Maybe Mr Super-Fucking-Hot could be a bit of fun. 

Just take it easy, you thought to yourself, spotting the glass windows of the restaurant as you rounded the corner. Il Giardino, read the sign that hung above the door. Cute.

Hastily, you shifted your bag and cardigan to the other arm and smoothed out the creases in your black trousers. You had tried for something a little dressy, but also office-appropriate since you were coming straight from work, and not like you had tried too hard and spent an unnecessary number of hours thinking about what to wear on this stupid blind date. Another quick glance at your reflection in the window, just to make sure there was no food or lipstick in your teeth, and you pushed past the door.

Soft jazz filtered through your ears as you stepped inside. The restaurant was nicely decorated, a few vintage Italian posters hanging on the exposed brick walls, and an overall rustic feel that paired well with the warm, earthy ambience. Judging by the patrons already seated, this place was a popular date night location, with all but one table occupied by couples sharing soft touches and flirty smiles over half-filled glasses of red wine.

Joy certainly knew how to pick a spot.

You gave the smiling hostess Joy’s name for the reservation, managing a weak smile of your own when she informed you that the other half of your party had already arrived, and followed her through the tables further into the restaurant. Outside, the first few raindrops had begun to splatter against the asphalt, slowly darkening the road with wet patches that were sure to grow into puddles. It seemed you had arrived just in time to escape the rain.

The hostess stopped at a more private table towards the back, and gestured towards the empty seat with that same welcoming smile. Mystery man, aka Mr Super-Fucking-Hot, was sat with his back to you, leafing through what you assumed to be the drinks menu. His silhouette from behind was alright-looking, you supposed, if you really had to put a label to it, but there was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his head. Perhaps you had crossed paths in the office lobby before?

You approached the table, trying to sneak a peek of him out of the corner of your eye, just to see if he lived up to Joy’s oh-so-generous description, without being so painfully obvious—

And froze.

“Is everything alright?” the hostess asked, still beaming at you. 

You barely heard her through the cotton wool that seemed to suddenly fill your ears, hands instantly clamming up as you took in the man in front of you. His warm eyes widened a fraction of a millimetre with recognition, quickly followed by something else you couldn’t place.

This was not happening.

“Is everything okay?” the hostess tried again. The corners of her mouth were beginning to slip, and she cast you a mildly concerned glance.

How strange you must have looked, standing stock-still beside your reserved table like a statue. The only things that could dispel the notion you had suddenly turned into stone were the light flush to your cheeks, and the deafening pounding of your own heart that you were sure the whole restaurant could hear.

“Everything’s fine, just give us a minute please,” Jaehyun finally said, flashing the hostess a kind smile. She took her cue to leave, but not without another curious look between the two of you, hurriedly brushing away the waiter who was approaching the table and preparing to rattle off the specials. 

Hearing his voice seemed to break the spell that had rendered you so immobile. You straightened, shifting your bag higher up your shoulder, and turned to leave. Whatever this was, you were not entertaining it.

Chair legs screeched abruptly against the floor. 

“Wait,” he pleaded. 

Your eyes landed on his hand latched around your wrist first, before they moved to his face again. Slowly, his fingers loosened, but he kept you in his hold. 

“Will you sit, please?” he asked softly. 

You looked at him. Really looked at him, taking in his full, straight brows, the slope of his nose, the pinkness of his lips. His cheeks had slimmed since you had last seen him, allowing the sharpness of his jaw to really come through. Breathtakingly handsome as he always had been. A little older, a little more masculine, and yet somehow still the same.

And maybe because you still saw him, the boy that you loved, the first and likely only boy you had ever truly loved, you did sit, sliding into your chair like it was made of ice.

“It’s been a while,” he began, lowering back into his seat. You gave no indication that you had heard him at all, eyes focused on the flickering tealight candle at the centre of the table. The wax was a pinkish red colour, and the light scent coming from it was sweet, with a touch of tartness. Pomegranate, maybe. At your silence, he cleared his throat and tried again. “How have you—”

“Did you plan this?”

He pulled back a bit, as if in genuine shock. “No, I swear, I had no idea it was you. Joy only told me it was someone from her department, and that you were pretty, and she thought you’d be my type.” A pause. “Did you?”

Your reply was icy. “Why would I plan to see you?”

He looked away at that, sucking in a breath through his teeth. You were probably mistaken, but something akin to hurt flashed in those eyes as he gave a short nod at your words. Likely a trick of the light. It was a little too dim in here. What reason would he have to be hurt? Why would he be bleeding when you were the one with cuts all over your hands from picking up the glass shards of your own broken heart?

An uncomfortable beat passed. “Well, I’d say it was nice to see you, but you know I’m not good at lying,” you said. Shouldn’t have sat down in the first place.

Grabbing your bag and cardigan, you made to stand up again, regretting your decision to come here, regretting giving in to Joy so easily, regretting leaving the house this morning without a stupid fucking umbrella. The drizzle outside had turned into a downpour in no time, and the street drains were definitely going to clog up tonight. 

Seoul and its fucking summer monsoon season.

“Can we just—please, can you—fuck. Can we have dinner and just talk? As friends?” His hand shot out across the table, as if itching to grab yours again, but thought better of it, letting his fingertips rest against the edges of the linen napkin you hadn’t even bothered to unfold. 

A refraction of light from his sleeve caught your eye. His cufflinks. He was wearing the cufflinks you had gotten him for your high school graduation all those years ago. 

They had been expensive. Four months of pay from your part-time job at the ice-cream parlour was just enough for the pale pearls set in sterling silver. You supposed it would have been silly of him to throw them away when they were so valuable. It wasn’t like you had thrown away the gold pendant he had given you either. That necklace hadn’t hung around your neck for a long time, but it still sat somewhere in the depths of your jewellery box, underneath all the newer ones you had bought for yourself or received from friends over the years.

“Fine,” you found yourself saying. “Sure. As friends. Why not?” 

Sinking back into your seat, you reached for the wine menu immediately. Enduring the next hour in the company of your ex-boyfriend without a drink? Unbearable. As much as you liked to convince yourself you were over him, from your behaviour tonight it was clear you most certainly were not, and only alcohol could soothe that blow to your pride.

Your eyes flitted down the page of reds, then the whites, then the sparklings. Christ, the prices in this place were not pretty. Joy would have to be in a completely separate tax bracket from you if these were the kinds of establishments she frequented. 

For a brief moment, you thought about ordering the most expensive bottle on the list — a Penfold’s 2018 Shiraz — just to be spiteful, but decided against it. If you were really going to be sharing a meal ‘as friends’, he would not be footing the entire bill. You wouldn’t let him.

The waiter, under the impression that things had somewhat cooled down, finally approached your table, albeit a bit cautiously. Hearing but not really listening, you let him sing praises about the wild mushroom ravioli, ordering it just to save yourself the effort of reading through the rest of the menu. When he reached the beverages portion of his spiel, you settled for a more reasonable bottle, a 2021 merlot.

It was only once he had left to put your orders in that you realised that you had not even checked if Jaehyun was driving tonight.

“I’ll pay for the wine, if you’re not drinking,” you said, fiddling with your napkin. You could probably finish the whole bottle yourself anyway. Maybe that would make it easier to look him in the eye.

“You really don’t need to do that,” he replied, voice soft but firm. The weight of his eyes on you was almost a tangible thing. “I’ll have a glass.”

Your waiter returned, making a show of uncorking the bottle before pouring it out into both your glasses. You couldn’t down the first one fast enough, draining half the contents in one long mouthful like it was your first taste of water after finishing a marathon. Jaehyun was more deliberate with his glass, taking only a few small sips before he set it down on the table again. If he noticed the speed at which you emptied yours, which it was pretty hard not to with the way you were gulping the wine down, he said nothing.

God, this was fucking awkward.

“So,” he began, trying to mask the crack of his voice with a cough, “what made you agree to this thing?”

You reached for the bottle. “Felt like I owed it to Joy,” you said, pouring yourself another glass. “I flaked out of the last two she organised.” 

Maybe you should have just gone on that first one with Taehyung, or Taehyun, or whatever his name was. Then you could have avoided this situation altogether. 

“So you do this kind of thing a lot, then?” came his careful question.

You were curt. “No.” 

He blinked a few times, the movements slow with confusion at the abruptness of your answer. You knew you were being difficult. You wanted to be. Five years could heal most things, but unspoken words could linger like splinters under your fingernails, festering below the surface. Calluses had hardened over the splinters of your breakup, tough and protective, but now it was as if they were pushing through to the surface again, your fingers newly tender at the sight of him after all those years. 

A small part of you wanted to give him a taste of your hurt, wanted him to feel the prick of tiny wood chips in the flesh behind his nail beds. The larger part, however, knew malice would do no good for you. You had survived the pain. There was no reason to survive poison as well.

“No, I don’t,” you tried again, a little softer, a little less jagged around the edges. “I think she just likes to set them up for fun. This is my first time on one of these blind uh…” The word date sat heavy on the tip of your tongue but refused to budge. “One of these things.” Maybe another mouthful of wine would wash it down.

“Her definition of fun can be rather interesting,” he said, politely filling the silence.

You hummed in agreement, raising the freshly filled wine glass to your mouth again as you scrambled around in your head for something, anything to say. It had been a while since you had last been out on the dating scene, and you were well aware of it, but good grief, it was like your conversational skills had evaporated into thin air.

“How do you know Joy?” was what you decided on after a deliberately slow sip.

Thankfully, Jaehyun seemed to still know how to carry a conversation. “She’s one of the HR reps for Digital, so we’ve spoken a few times before. And her boyfriend is a friend from university.” He paused to take a sip of his wine. “Have you met him?”

You shook your head lightly. “No, not yet. Hoping to, soon.” 

“You’ll like him. Doyoung’s a great guy. Patience of a saint.”

“He’d have to be to keep up with her,” you said, hints of a chuckle sprinkled in your voice. 

Something about the fact that he was already privy to more of Joy’s personal life than you were had a sliver of jealousy wriggling in your stomach. She was supposed to be your friend, and yet you knew very little about Doyoung besides his name, while your ex-boyfriend across from you had been buddy-buddy with him for probably years and years. Not that it was a competition to see who held more information about their coworker outside the office, but the feeling that you were somewhat losing didn’t sit well.

“It’s actually my first time on a blind date as well,” he said, allowing himself a tentative smile. “You know how convincing she can be. I mean, I don’t think I’d ever go on one if she hadn’t roped me in. It feels a bit silly meeting up with a complete stranger, you know?” He turned his smile to you, still tentative but coloured with a tinge of hopefulness, like he wanted you to understand, like he knew you would. 

How could you not? There had once been a time where you believed that you and Jaehyun had been two halves of the same soul, carved into existence from the same stone. There had once been a time where you knew him almost better than he knew himself. 

A time rather distant from now.

You kept your answer non-committal. “Sure,” you murmured, wishing his pretty face wouldn’t fall so quickly at your nonchalance, wishing you hadn’t caught the slightest droop to the curve of his mouth. Everything about him was still too familiar. “I’m just a bit surprised to hear that, I guess. You were so desperate to meet new people back then.”

Three seconds passed in silence. 

His eyes dropped to his lap, as did yours to your own. This previously reasonable bottle of merlot was loosening your lips rather unreasonably.

“Sorry, that was—” Unnecessary? Mean? 

True? 

“I didn’t mean to say that,” you finally managed, the words spilling out of your mouth in a tumbled rush. 

Or maybe you had. 

Jaehyun could only flash you a weak smile. “It’s fine,” he said, though you both knew it wasn’t really.

Frigidity returned to the air between you, stopped just short of freezing over by the reappearance of your waiter, along with a plate of goat’s cheese arancini. Jaehyun politely gestured for you to eat first, watching as you speared the crusty surface with your fork and moved it over to your own plate. For a few seconds, the only noises that could be heard from the table were the clinks and clanks of stainless steel utensils against ceramic plates. The arancini could not have come at a better time, affording both of you the opportunity to hide behind the guise of eating, and put off the need to make strained conversation, even if the time it bought you was fleeting.

Meet new people. Those were the exact words he had said to you all those years ago. Han River on a Tuesday night, cherry blossom petals fluttering through the balmy April air, the iciness of winter finally melting away into a distant memory to reveal fresh green carpets and vivid blooms — few things could have been more romantic. Spring is the season of love, they said. 

But for you, spring was the season of loss. It was the season when love ended, when love could be taken back and snatched away in the blink of an eye. On a Tuesday night in April, you learned that your love was not just not enough, but that it was a burden, an obstacle between Jaehyun and living his life to the fullest. That time spent with you was time squandered. That you were robbing him of the complete university experience, and to an extent, his youth.

Jaehyun had always been a wanter. He wanted boldly and he wanted freely, never dwelling too long on how his wanting could appear in the eyes of others, never shy about his desires. When he was ten years old, he wanted a dog, despite the reddening of his nose and the watering of his eyes whenever he’d get within arm’s distance of the bichon frisé. In tenth grade, he wanted you, with cans of peach soda and sweet little notes in your locker until you finally said yes to being his girlfriend after three days of public pursuit. 

(You had arguably wanted him more, and for longer, though nobody had been none the wiser — you were rather good at hiding your feelings.)

Two months into your first year at university, his wants changed. He wanted more space and more freedom to meet new people. He wanted to be able to attend club social outings, and get to know his seniors, and play drinking games with his new roommates, instead of trekking to the other side of Seoul every week to see you, his girlfriend, who had now become his obligation.

It would have been a lie to say you hadn’t noticed a shift in his behaviour in the months leading up to that fateful night. Smiles had become a little wearier. Texts had become sparser. You had chalked it up to the challenges of settling into the new routine and rigorous coursework, and the distance between your schools that occupied opposite sides of the city. Sure, the hour-long subway ride from his campus to yours wasn’t the greatest asset to your relationship, but 18-year-old you had remained optimistic it would endure whatever curveballs your first year of university and the beginnings of real adulthood would throw at you. 

You had survived the CSAT together and emerged in one piece. What else could be harder than that?

“You’re right though,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on his own piece of fried goat’s cheese. “I guess I was.”

You let your fork drop with a soft clang. “Let’s not, uh—we don’t have to talk about that.” Pink petals were swimming at the edges of your vision. 

Please, let’s not talk about that.

A flicker of something behind his eyes could almost convince you he wanted exactly the opposite of your unspoken plea. Maybe this was a conversation he didn’t actually want to avoid the way you so desperately did. 

And maybe he would have said something too, if not for the waiter who returned at that precise moment. 

“The mushroom ravioli,” the waiter announced, setting the plate down in front of you, “and the amatriciana spaghetti. Enjoy.” 

Four pieces of pasta covered in sage butter looked back up at you. 

You made a mental note to never order ravioli at an Italian restaurant ever again. 

The sound of scraping utensils returned to your table, lightly blanketing the stilted pause in conversation with idle noise. Without much enthusiasm, you sliced at one of the four pieces of your ravioli, throwing what you hoped were sneaky glances at the full plate of spaghetti sitting in an appetising red sauce laid out before your ex-boyfriend. 

“Do you want to try mine?”

Sneakiness had never been your forte.

Your polite refusal came quickly, even if it was rather weak to your own ears, but Jaehyun was already twirling a portion out onto the share plate the waiter had kindly provided a few minutes earlier. He made sure to scoop some sauce and pancetta bits on top as well, before gently pushing the plate towards you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, though you made no move to dig in.

Everything wasn’t supposed to feel this familiar. You weren’t supposed to soften so easily at the sight of his dimpled smile. You weren’t supposed to feel that strange tug in your chest at his thoughtfulness, at the way he could still pick up the slightest change in your expression. And maybe the bar was too low, and here you were fawning over nothing more than the bare minimum, because what guy would see his date enviously looking at his food instead of her own and blatantly ignore it?

But with Jaehyun, it was different. You knew it was. Within every action, there was familiarity and practice, there was thought and care, there were years of history that were unerasable, even with the passage of time. You weren’t the same wide-eyed teenagers now as you had been then, and yet scenes from the rest of that excruciating first semester flickered in your mind. 

A silent breakdown during a business administration lecture. Your roommate’s concerned expression when you decided to skip dinner again.

The tug in your chest was leading you back into dangerous territory. 

For the third time tonight, you debated grabbing your things and walking straight out. You had only promised Joy that you would stay until the mains came out. If you were going to leave now, technically, you would still have fulfilled your end of the promise. Arguably, this wasn’t the best time to make an exit — fifteen minutes earlier would have been much better so that the kitchen would have time to cancel your stupid ravioli before they started preparing it. Leaving now wouldn’t be the most optimal, but it was still an option. A tad heavy on the dramatics, but you could live with that. You’d just never be able to step foot in this establishment again.

A shame. The spaghetti looked good. You’d have to search up if this place did delivery.

“You can go if you really want to, I won’t hold it against you,” Jaehyun said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the fork he was twirling through his dish. You supposed you should’ve been surprised at the way he could read your mind without even looking at you, but you couldn’t find the energy in you to pretend.

“But,” he continued at your silence, “if you’re willing to stay, I’d really like it if we could just catch up?” At this, he finally met your eyes and offered a small smile. “It has been a while, after all.”

Maybe it was the sincerity contained in those soft brown eyes. Maybe it was because you really did want to try the amatriciana spaghetti while it was hot and fresh off the stove. Whatever it was, you found yourself resolving to stay, despite all the reasons not to, despite the sound of them loud and clear in your head, ready at your disposal. Allowing yourself to indulge in nostalgia once in a while couldn’t be that bad for you. Right? 

So you stayed. And you ate (his spicy amatriciana scored a landslide victory over your mushroom ravioli). And you talked. As two friends would do, catching each other up on the things that had shaped your lives since you had gone on your separate ways. 

Conversation was clunky at first, that was to be expected. Even the closest of friendships would encounter some choppy waters when reconnecting for the first time after five years. But conversation with Jaehyun gave way to smooth sailing much quicker than you would have expected. He still wore the face of the boy who would sneak an extra serving of fried sweet potato from the cafeteria because he knew you liked them, but he wasn’t quite the same. Older, certainly. Maturity wasn’t something that went hand-in-hand with age like you had thought when you were younger, but he was more mature too. Surer of himself, and his place in the world.

You heard of the summer he spent in the UK after graduation, visiting his uncle and their family, appreciating classical architecture and the leisure inherent to rolling green hills that he hadn’t been able to find in the metropolis he had grown up in. (The food, however, was an entirely different story. He had never been so overjoyed to see a bowl of rice that wasn’t covered in mushy peas or sitting in a puddle of questionable-looking curry.)

He learned of your semester exchange in Amsterdam, including the unfortunate incident involving you, a runaway bicycle, and the freezing water of the Dutch canals. Fortunately, a nasty cold and two weeks in bed over the Christmas break were the worst things that came of it. Those few months had been eye-opening, to say the least. Stepping outside of your own bubble had made you realise how much more there was to the world, and how little you knew of it.

Yes, Jaehyun had changed, but then again so had you. The realisation dawned halfway through dessert, slowly settling over you as you spooned at the tiramisu in the centre of the table. Perhaps it hadn’t been fair to him that you had been harbouring this seed of antagonism towards him for all these years. He, so afflicted by youth, as you both had been back then, was only doing what he thought was right and necessary. Could you really fault him for that? You had seen enough of life now to know that sometimes, nobody was to blame.

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation before he spoke again. The sound of his voice drew you away from the window, where you could see that the rain had slowed from the earlier dramatic downpour to a lighter shower. 

“I know I probably wasn’t who you were expecting today,” he said, a little hesitant and gauging your expression.

“You definitely were not.” You gave him an amused half-smile over the rim of your barely-filled glass, which he returned. The bottle of merlot sat tall and empty on the table.

“I just wanted to say,” he began, taking in a breath, “I’m glad it was you. It was really nice to see you again. And I’m sorry if you were disappointed that it was me.” 

There was something sad in the curve of his mouth, you thought. It tempered the warmth in his eyes.

“I’m not disappointed,” you heard yourself say. “Really.”

It was the truth. You knew he could see it written across your face. Dishonesty and insincere flattery were not familiar weapons you wielded. He knew that. He knew you.

Jaehyun sat back, bringing his own glass to his lips and draining the lingering contents. Perhaps to hide the private smile that broke out across his handsome face, which you pretended not to see, turning your attention back to the raindrops pattering against the window. 

The evening air was cool on your bare arms when you stepped out, taking shelter under the awning in front of the restaurant. You weren’t the only one who had forgone a weather app consultation today. Jaehyun stood beside you, hands tucked neatly in the pockets of his slacks, a not unwelcome companion while you waited for your taxi to arrive. He’d call one later, after he made sure you had gotten in the car and were on the way home.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” he asked, tone light. 

You cast a sidelong glance at him. His profile was backlit by the warm light emanating from inside the restaurant, carving out the straight bridge of his nose, a soft shadow cupping the fullness of his bottom lip. Would there ever be a time the sight of him wouldn’t take your breath away?

“Maybe,” you breathed. Letting him back into your life wasn’t a decision you felt ready to make yet, and you had no intention of promising him anything you couldn’t be sure you’d be able to deliver. Even if you would only be promising him friendship.

He didn’t push it further and hummed in understanding. Then your taxi was pulling up in front of the restaurant, the splash from the tyres just missing the hem of your trousers, and you were bidding him goodbye, staring a second too long at the dimples that appeared, and trying not to step in a pothole puddle as you clambered rather ungracefully into the car. 

But because realisation was never punctual, it was only when you arrived home, carefully kicking off the black pumps and patting them dry with a microfibre cloth, that you realised two things. 

First, you had left your cardigan at the Italian restaurant.

And second, Jaehyun had footed the whole bill.

There was a reason the seventh floor was your favourite floor in the building.

It wasn’t because of the little in-office cafe with the cute but ridiculously overpriced pastries that tasted even better than they looked, or the deceptively comfortable bean bag chairs by the far window that would always tempt you with a mid-afternoon nap every time you sank into one of them.

No. The seventh floor was your favourite because it had a Nespresso machine. Free use. Company-funded.

A seventh floor coffee was one of the only things that could get you to leave the comfort of your desk and willingly walk up two flights of stairs. (The elevators always took too long.) On Monday afternoons like these, after an entire morning swimming through attendance and sick leave reports from the last quarter, the promise of a smooth and velvety cappuccino felt like your only hope for humanity. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like everybody else had the same idea, if the line in front of the coffee machine was anything to judge by. 

“You should have told me!”

You gave Joy an incredulous look. “Right. Because I definitely knew exactly who he was.”

“Well, you could have worked it out. You’re a smart girl.”

“You said a total of three sentences about him.”

She paused, fixing you with a contemplative stare. Her eyebrows were doing that weird lifting thing when she was running something through her head. “Five sentences,” she finally managed, tapping around the rim of her empty mug. 

Why she came up with you at all when she wasn’t a coffee person, would probably take two sips of the espresso, and then complain it was too bitter, was beyond you. Sometimes you wondered if she was really that good at her job, or if her workload was just so non-existent that she could take five coffee breaks a day. It couldn’t be the latter, because you had seen that her calendar was full for the entire morning.

“Let’s not spend the next fifteen minutes talking about last Friday,” you sighed, already pushing thoughts of dimpled smiles and warm eyes to the far corner of your mind. Hopefully not to be revisited for a while. “I want my head outrageously blank while I enjoy this cappuccino. Swear to god Junmyeon is trying to drown me with those leave reports.”

“You know he only assigns them to you because you’ve never told him you hate doing it.”

“He assigns them to me because I’m the only one available who can get it done properly. You’re always blocked out, and Jungwoo has that weekly coaching session. Jisung tried to help me do it this morning, and he didn’t even separate paid from unpaid leave. The numbers looked like we were bleeding PTO.”

She gave you a sly smile. “You know you can block yourself out too,” she said off-handedly. 

“You can what?”

This was new information.

“You’re telling me someone else could be sifting through that 70-page file if I just schedule in a random meeting with myself?” you asked again, to which she nodded.

“Has yet to fail me. But make sure you name it something that makes sense, and don’t do it all the time, otherwise it’ll look suspicious.”

Corporate bullshitting was a fine art, and you were beginning to realise you were still but a novice at it. 

“And lay off the intern,” she added. “He’s just a child.” “He’s taller than Junmyeon.”

“A child in spirit, then. You know what I mean. He sort of reminds me of a cute little mouse,” she mused, trailing off. If her apartment complex didn’t have a pet ban, you had a feeling she would be taking in every stray animal off the street.

However, she was right. Jisung had been a bigger help than you had expected of a second-year commerce student. Even if it was just skimming through a finished presentation pack to fix up any typos and align text boxes, you couldn’t deny that having an extra pair of eyes and hands had made your life a little bit easier. Maybe you would even miss him once his summer placement came to an end and the semester rolled back around. As long as there weren’t too many more incidents like the one from this morning.

Speaking of this morning…

“Hey, does that mean you’ve been making yourself unavailable so you don’t have to read the—”

“Oh look! The line’s getting shorter. You should move up before someone cuts in.”

You shuffled forward, but not without throwing her a displeased look along with a grumble or two. Next time the quarterly attendance analysis rolled around, you were definitely making use of the trick she had just told you about. A quick glance up ahead. There were now three people in front of you in the line, but only one green capsule left on the rack. 

Please, caffeine gods be willing, let that last one be yours.  

“I can’t believe I told you that I thought your ex-boyfriend was super fucking hot. I feel so icky, like I’ve betrayed you somehow,” Joy said, making a face. The dimpled smile fought its way back into your consciousness, and you suppressed the twist in your stomach that seemed to accompany every recollection of it. 

“It’s honestly fine. There’s no way you could have known.” You shrugged, partly to reassure her it wasn’t a big deal, and partly to shake off that funny feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The better part of your weekend had been spent trying to make sense of the night, after battling a merlot-induced migraine for most of Saturday morning and early afternoon. Three glasses had been a necessity to get through dinner, but it was ultimately overkill. You were no longer the girl from two years ago who took advantage of her afternoon class the next day by destroying a few soju bottles with your roommates. On a weeknight, too.

Joy gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Still, I’m sorry I put you through that. Hopefully it wasn’t completely awful?”

Completely awful, it was not. Awful at some parts? Maybe. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t been prepared to see Jaehyun again. Not to say that you had never thought about it — you definitely had, running simulations through your head about how you would run into him on the street, ignore his greeting and walk past him like he didn’t even exist. But those were the musings of a heart-broken teenager, turning to spite and cheap endeavours at revenge to cope with the loss of her first love. Last Friday did have spite rearing its ugly head, but that spite was short-lived, and only one aspect that made up the whirlwind of emotions that came with seeing him again after all those years. 

“No, it wasn’t all bad,” you were about to say, when your eye was suddenly caught by a movement up ahead. 

A slender, veiny hand reached out to grab the last green pod from the coffee rack. You watched as the thief’s fingers closed around the capsule and slotted it into the machine. He pressed the lever down — because of course, it was a man. Not only was he on the better side of the gender wage gap, but he also had to be ahead of you in the caffeine race as well.

The sound of the capsule being punctured was the final blow. 

“My coffee,” you lamented under your breath.

“Have some patience,” Joy chided. “We’re nearly there. You’re like a zombie when you don’t have your little cup of bean juice.”

You shook your head glumly. “The last Peruvian. I waited for so long. It was supposed to be mine, and he took it.” 

“Who did?”

“The guy at the front.” 

Your eyes were still glued on the hand as it wrapped around the mug filled with your favourite blend, completely unaware that it had just robbed you of the only small pocket of joy you had been looking forward to all afternoon. Peering around the two people still ahead, your gaze travelled up his exposed forearm and the sleeve of the white dress shirt cuffed there. If only you could catch a glimpse of the face that had stomped all over your hopes and dreams… 

The lady in front of you shuffled closer to the coffee machine and finally cleared your line of sight. Coffee stealer’s ear came into view before his face did, and he was—

“Jaehyun?”

His name fell out of Joy’s mouth before you could even get your own to start working again and beg her not to call out to him. For a moment you were afraid you had conjured him out of thin air from the uninvited thoughts of him circling the outskirts of your mind. At least now you knew he wasn’t a hallucination.

Jaehyun’s eyebrows pinched in confusion first, then surprise, before finally smoothing over with recognition. He offered a small wave, eyes flitting from Joy over to you, and then he was walking over, and you were fighting for your life trying to mask the panic that was bubbling away inside your chest.

You shot Joy a frantic look. Why did you do that?

I don’t know! Sorry, said her returning one. The corners of her mouth were turned down in an apologetic frown, but she quickly schooled it into a smile at Jaehyun’s approach.

“I’ve never seen you on seven before,” Joy said, the spitting image of friendliness, nevermind that you were beside her and desperately looking for an exit out of the incoming conversation. “You’re always holed up somewhere on ten.”

You supposed you should have known this would happen sooner or later. Six months without running into each other when you worked at the same company, in the same building, was the exception, not the rule. You were just grateful Joy didn’t try to bring up her clever little dinner setup that had been plaguing you the entire weekend, or try and rope the two of you into awkward and unnecessary introductions.

“Someone told me I should come down and try the Nespresso machine. Apparently it’s really good,” he said, gesturing at the mug you had been staring at for the past three minutes.

“It is,” were the first two words you managed. Both pairs of eyes shifted towards you, waiting for the rest of your comment to come, but you could only disappoint, the syllables hanging thick and dumb in the air. 

There appeared to be some sort of blockage in your mouth-to-brain pipeline.

Joy cleared her throat lightly, throwing you a sideways glance. “Which one did you try? They all taste the same to me, but she only drinks the green ones,” she said, ignoring the panicked twitch of your mouth. She knew full well that he was the one you’d been staring daggers into ever since he grabbed that stupid capsule. Your stupid capsule.

Jaehyun’s eyes flicked between your face and the steaming drink in his hand a few times.

“Do you want mine? I think I might have taken the last green one.” He offered the mug to you. “I didn’t really know what to press, so it’s just a cappuccino. Regular milk. I haven’t had any yet.”

“It’s fine, you should have yours. I’ll get another one,” you politely declined. No matter how much you liked the Peruvian blend, it was not worth the charity from your ex-boyfriend. Even if it was the only thing that could get you through the rest of the afternoon. Even if he was holding the exact thing that you had been planning on getting. 

Hopefully the kitchen staff would restock those capsules by tomorrow.

The look he gave you was not a convinced one, but he didn’t push further. With your dismissal of his offer, the three of you lapsed into a sticky silence. Even Joy, who was so adept at making topics of conversation out of nothing, had little to add, passing up the challenge of pulling meaningful sentences out of your mouth. The stifling tension between you and Jaehyun must have been more powerful than you thought. 

“Shoot, I think I’m getting a Teams call,” Joy suddenly said, making a show of pulling her phone out and tapping the screen. 

Liar. She didn’t even have the app notifications turned on. 

“I should probably take this, but I’ll see the both of you later.” She flashed a contrite smile, and then she was off, almost speed-walking her way down the stairs you had come up together, all the while pressing her phone to her ear with a little too much urgency for a mid-afternoon cold call. By the look on Jaehyun’s face, he hadn’t been all that impressed by her impromptu theatrics either.

“Are you still in the line?”

“Sorry, yes,” you muttered at the woman behind you. Clearly, you were not the only one impatient for their caffeine fix. 

Finally, you were at the counter. You stared blankly at the rack of capsules. The empty space where the green ones were usually stored was glaringly obvious, jumping out at you while you skimmed through the other blends for a passable alternative. After many more seconds than would have been necessary to pick one flavour out of the remaining three, your fingers closed around a gold one. It would have to do for today. 

Jaehyun watched as you dropped the capsule into its slot and made your selections. Why he was still here with you was somewhat of a mystery. You would’ve thought that Joy’s hasty exit would have prompted him to do the same, saving the both of you from having to make bumbling small talk about the weather, or the weekend, or whatever else that two people working at the same company, with no other relational history, could talk about to fill in the silence.

Maybe he wanted to talk about the dinner bill. The fact that he had settled it, without you even noticing, had been weighing on your mind. It was less of a money thing — though you were pretty sure the total hadn’t been a modest number — than a pride thing. Being indebted to others always left a smear on your conscience. 

Being indebted to your ex-boyfriend was like someone had shit all over it.

Whatever. If he didn’t bring it up first, you would. This was the 21st century. You were both financially independent adults. Splitting the bill on a first date didn’t have to be such a contentious thing. 

Although technically, it was far from your first. And it wasn’t a date either, because you had refused to label it as such in your head.

The last few drops of milk and espresso trickled into the mug, before the machine stopped whirring altogether. You knew he was still there. You could feel his presence behind you. He had probably been waiting for the noise to stop so that you’d be able to hear him speak. Taking your mug off the stand, you turned to face him. 

“Your cardigan,” he said.

“Huh?”

Confusion splashed over you. You weren’t even wearing one today.

“I have your cardigan,” he amended. “From Friday. You left it inside the restaurant. One of the waiters brought it out, but you had left already, so I took it with me.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I have it now, if you want it back.”

“You do?” 

“I mean, it’s at my desk. I brought it in today,” he added quickly, seeing the way you were looking about his person like you were expecting it to materialise into his hands.

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the brain fog that had decided now was the perfect time to strike. “Yes, I—thank you, um, for that. I can take it off you…?” 

Had you meant to have it sound so much like a question? It seemed like your capacity for human speech was always afflicted by some sort of malfunction in his presence.

“Okay, uh, do you want to come up to my desk? I’ve got it there.”

The elevator ride up to the tenth floor was a short one. You could have taken the stairs just to get the extra steps in, but with both of you holding uncovered drinks, three flights of stairs combined with your clumsy fingers were a slip hazard just waiting to happen. Still, despite the short journey, the seconds inside the elevator seemed to drag on for much longer.

Before you could lose your nerve, you opened your mouth to crack the silence. 

“Let me pay you back for dinner.” 

Good. It sounded good. Firm, but not overbearing. Hell yeah, you were getting the hang of this conversation-with-your-ex-boyfriend thing. 

Jaehyun seemed a bit taken aback by that, turning to you slightly with surprise woven into the crease of his brow. “You really don’t need to do that,” he said after a beat.

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out through the sliding doors before you could form a coherent response. It took a second for you to follow, the coffee inside your mug almost making a dangerous appearance all over the elevator floor as you caught up with his strides. 

“Think of it as me taking care of a junior colleague. I am your senior, you know,” he said over his shoulder, a smile gracing his features at the latter part.

“Only by half a year,” you grumbled. “That doesn’t even count.” The light shake of his broad shoulders let you know he had heard your gripes over his attempts at enforcing seniority. His accompanying laugh was a soft one. You barely caught it above the noise of the tenth floor office.

The mellowed cosiness of the fifth floor HR department was hard to be found here. You were used to some chatter, with the occasional high-pitched laugh from Joy punctuating the air. On days he was feeling particularly jovial, Junmyeon could be heard humming from whichever desk he had decided to park at for the day (such was the beauty of hot-desking and hotelling). The few occasions you shared a table with him had allowed you to recognise the melody of The Beatles’ Strawberry Fields Forever — always the same song, and he hummed everything except for the words ‘strawberry fields’, which he insisted on singing, albeit softly.

Nothing about Digital was soft or cosy. Except maybe the sofa in one of the open creative spaces. The floor buzzed with activity, from the influx of incoming call ringtones to agenda-packed meetings in conference rooms. A group of people were clustered around a floor-to-ceiling whiteboard covered in diagrams that were undecipherable to you, engaged in animated conversation while pointing at various parts of the board. Some of them greeted Jaehyun as he walked past with you in tow.

“I had no idea Digital was this busy,” you mused out loud, following him as he weaved through the desks.

He chuckled lightly. “We like to talk a lot. And some of us can get a bit loud,” he said. The joking undercurrent to his voice had you thinking that the second part was said with someone in mind. “But it’s more hectic than usual. We’ve just won a really big bid and Johnny’s excited about his first time leading one of the streams.” He paused to wave and give a thumbs-up at the man standing at the very front of the whiteboard group (you assumed this was Johnny), who returned the greetings with just as much enthusiasm. 

Jaehyun had always been a people person. That was one thing that would likely never change.

The two of you arrived at his desk, a quieter one next to the windows offering an almost unobstructed view of the city. He dug around his workspace, pulling out a Jo Malone gift bag. 

“Ignore the bag,” he said, catching your wary expression. “I didn’t want to stuff it in my duffel with the rest of my gym stuff.” 

You took it from his outstretched hand, with a quick glance to check that it was in fact your cardigan. The ribbed black fabric sat inside, folded neatly over itself. 

“It got rained on quite a bit, so I washed it. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course, that’s kind of you, Jaehyun. You didn’t have to.” For a moment, you wondered if he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. The smell of it used to cling to his school uniform, a burst of freshness you always sought during the muggy summer days.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a grateful smile. “I thought I lost it for good.” In your mind, you had already made peace with the fact that you would probably see the thing ever again. Yet all weekend, it had been taking up space in Jaehyun’s hamper, uncertain as to when it would finally be able to reunite with your closet.

You gave him a careful look. 

“Did you plan on seeing me today?” you asked. 

“No. Yes. I mean—” The tips of his ears took on the faintest hint of a pink flush. “I didn’t know if I would run into you, so I’m glad I did. But otherwise, I was just going to give it to Joy and get her to pass it along to you,” he trailed off, gaze shifting sideways to the cityscape posted on the other side of the glass windows. 

Neither of you had bothered with exchanging contact details after dinner, an oversight that was more deliberate than not on your part. His re-entry into your life was something you hadn’t felt quite ready for. And yet—

“Do you want my number?”

Stupid mouth. The words were out before you even registered that you had spoken. You prayed he wouldn’t pick up on the unintended suggestion of the question, though judging by the quick raise of his left eyebrow, you weren’t the only one who realised the other possible interpretations of your words. 

“I mean, just in case something like this happens again. So you can contact me directly,” you added quickly. Heat slowly crept its way up to your cheeks. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Sure,” he said, lips curling into a smile. “If that’s okay with you.” 

Considering you were the one who had said it out loud in the first place, it would have been strange if you suddenly decided it was not okay with you.

There was some fumbling with each other’s phones, before you were typing your number to add into his contacts, and he was doing the same to yours. Would he realise yours was still the same string of digits as it had been five years ago?

“Well, I’d better get going,” you said, handing back his phone. Now was as good a time to make an easy exit as any. You had planned on gossiping with Joy in the level seven kitchen for the rest of the hour, but back to your desk appeared to be the more likely destination this afternoon. 70-page files didn’t read themselves. “Thanks for the cardigan. I’ll see you later, then?”

Jaehyun looked like he had more to say, but you were already turning around, ready to leave the hubbub of the tenth floor. Ready to leave the presence of your ex-boyfriend-turned-friend? Acquaintance? You shook your head lightly. A drink was needed to unpack that box of worms.

A call of your name had you pausing mid-step.

“Your coffee,” Jaehyun said, tapping you on the shoulder to hand you your mug. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from his grasp. You hadn’t even bothered to take a sip of the non-Peruvian cappuccino, the surface still untouched. It was probably cold now. Maybe you’d pass it off to Jungwoo, this time sans the salt.

“You know, if the dinner bill thing bothers you that much, you can just make it up to me later.”

You blinked at him a few times. “Make it up to you how?”

“Ah, that’s for me to decide,” he replied, a boyish glint to his smiling eyes. Both his dimples popped out, and you found yourself unable to choose which one to focus on. 

Then he was moving, and you were left staring at the broad expanse of his back as he walked away. Head full of thoughts wondering what the hell kind of favour he would now hold over your head, you almost walked straight into Jungwoo as you came out of the elevator.

“Hey, I got a Nespresso from seven. You want it?” you asked, offering him the coffee you stopped yourself from spilling all over him. He eyed the mug apprehensively.

“You put salt in it again, didn’t you?”

“No? Where did you even get that from? Hang on, how do you know it was me?”

Jungwoo sucked in a breath through his teeth. “So it was you! I knew it! You know, you really are a scary woman,” he grumbled. “Who ever would have thought an evil spirit lurked behind such a kind face?”

“So that’s a no to the coffee?”

“I don’t trust you anymore, so no.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrugged, making your way back to your desk. The attendance reports stared back at you as you logged into the monitor, drawing a sigh out of you. You took a sip of the coffee.

And frowned.

You brought the mug to your mouth again. Like the first sip, the second was also lukewarm. But like the first sip, the second also tasted exactly the same as your usual Peruvian blend. Maybe there really was no difference between all the different coloured capsules, you thought, skimming through page 33 of the file.

That thing about realisation never being on time? Still true.

On the subway ride home, gripping the handle with all your might while sandwiched between two middle-aged men in stuffy suits, it dawned on you.

Jaehyun had given you his coffee instead.

“Thanks everyone for dialling in today. We’ll chat soon.”

The screen reverted back to its default background as the call ended, and you let out a sound somewhere in between a groan and a whimper. Junmyeon did not look to be faring any better, head in his hands while his elbows rested on the meeting room table.

“Can somebody please tell Jackson and the rest of the Marketing heads that Summer Fridays doesn’t mean they can just take Fridays completely off?” he groaned, the sounds escaping through the gaps in his fingers. “Our absenteeism looks like it’s at an all time high. Nayeon, you’re friendly with him, aren’t you?”

The girl pressed at her temples. “I mean, we were in the same advertising and PR club back in university, if that counts for anything. But yeah, I’ll schedule some time with him and go over it.”

“Great, thank you,” Junmyeon sighed, throwing his head back. “Alright, I’ll send around a debrief email later this afternoon. Thanks everyone for your time.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. A second later and you were out of the eighth floor Marketing meeting room, already on your way to the Nespresso machine downstairs. Another coffee at 4pm was slightly pushing it, but you needed a pick-me-up urgently to wash away the gruelling two hours spent going through company policy with Marketing.

The buzz of your phone was a momentary distraction from your mission. 

It was a message from Jaehyun. Something silly in response to a text you had sent earlier in the day. 

jaehyun [04:07 pm]: in dire need of a fake mango right now jaehyun [04:07 pm]: mmm fake mango milkshake

The smile that crept up onto your face was almost like a reflex in the way it couldn’t be helped.

Now that you were acquainted again, it was like you saw him everywhere. How you had managed to completely avoid each other for the last half a year or so was a fascinating mystery. Some mornings you’d run into him in the building lobby. He’d hold the elevator doors open for you, and you’d exchange pleasantries on the ride up to the fifth floor, where you’d get off and bid him goodbye, or see you later. And see him later you did. Whether it was at the seventh floor coffee machine, or in line at the cafeteria on twelve, the sight of his face had become a nice interruption to the hours spent at a monitor, or in a call like the one you had just escaped.

He would come down to the fifth floor sometimes, stopping by Joy’s desk or yours to say hello and have a chat if you weren’t busy. You found yourself wishing he would spend less time with Joy than he did with you — not because you wanted to see him more (because that was absolutely not the reason at all), but because he was steadily gaining a lead over you in the Joy friendship competition. The three of you had spent a few lunch breaks at the cafeteria together, granted that your schedules matched, with an odd appearance from Jungwoo every now and again.

You saw more of Johnny (loud) and Mark (louder), Jaehyun’s friends from Digital who you’d normally hear before you’d see them. Johnny was his “beloved coffee mate” (Jaehyun’s exact words) and possibly the only other person in the building who cared about the green Peruvian capsules as much as you did. Mark was… Mark, for lack of a better description. There was nobody the boy couldn’t strike a conversation with. If he really needed to, you suspected he could probably get along with a wet paper towel. 

You had been offered an invitation to join the three of them for one of their weekly lunches outside the company building. Johnny was more than happy to let you know he was somewhat of an expert at finding the hottest eats in the area, having put half his floor onto the cold noodle place he had sought out at the start of the month. And laugh as you had when he proudly told you about it, Johnny’s influence was no joke. News of the restaurant had somehow trickled its way down to HR, with Junmyeon just the other day asking around the team if anyone had tried the place before. 

Perhaps you’d join them next week. It was always nice to be ahead of the trend. 

You arrived at the seventh floor kitchen and sighed. The rack was out of green capsules again. Although, maybe that was to be expected. It was nearing the end of the day, and the gold capsules were finished too. So much for a 4pm pick-me-up, you thought, though it might have been for the better — too much caffeine in one day always made you a bit antsy and had your resting heart rate up in the high 80s. 

With empty hands and a pout on your lips, you made your way back to the fifth floor. 

Joy’s eyes were glued to her screen when you walked past her. “Jaehyun stopped by while you were in that Marketing call,” she said without looking at you, squinting at a spreadsheet. 

“Did he?” you replied, trying your best at nonchalance despite the little flip of your stomach. 

“Are you talking about her handsome friend from Digital?” Jungwoo peered around the table with a playful grin on his face. 

You were back on good terms now, thanks to your promise to pay for his lunch from the cafeteria for a whole week to make up for the coffee incident. The look in his eyes right now had you thinking life was better that week where he had been afraid of you.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Joy said distractedly in between clicks of her keyboard. “Jisung, can you just double check these numbers for me? I’m in the second tab of the Excel file.” 

The intern was quick to comply. You had a feeling she was his favourite senior. 

“Anyways, I think he left you something.”

You made your way over to your desk, ignoring Jungwoo’s oohs and ahs. Sure enough, there was something sitting next to your diary and the three empty glasses you hadn’t had the chance to rinse out yet.

It was a coffee capsule. Specifically, it was a green coffee capsule. 

There was a sticky note stuck to the back of it, which you turned around to read. His handwriting was still identical to that of the silly little notes he used to leave in the margins of your home economics workbook. 

saved this last one from johnny’s clutches. enjoy ^.^

Despite the jitters from the end-of-day caffeine fix, you smiled the whole way home.

“I’ve found a way you can make it up to me.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the screen. 9:34 am. The Saturday morning still had you in its clutches, and it took a few seconds to process the sounds you were hearing. 

“Who is this?” you croaked, sleep lacing your voice. 

“It’s Jaehyun.” 

You sat up a little straighter against the pillows. “Jaehyun?” you echoed. 

“Yes, it’s me. Do you not check the caller ID before you answer?”

You grumbled something about it being too early on the weekend to have your head screwed on properly, to which he laughed, a vivid sound even through the phone. 

“Do you have plans later today?”

You hesitated. Technically, no, unless a hot date with Netflix and whatever leftover snacks you could find in your pantry counted as plans. You were due for a grocery trip soon. The three eggs and single sprig of spring onion in your fridge would not last for long. Cooking had never been something you enjoyed, especially not after a full work day, and yet living alone required so much of it. You didn’t want to make up a non-existent dinner reservation, partly because you knew he’d be able to tell the untruth just by listening to your voice, and partly because something unpleasant niggled at your insides at the thought of lying just to avoid him.  

“Why, what’s up?” you asked instead.

“Well, you know that jazz festival?” You gave an affirmative hum. “I have tickets for today. Mark and I were supposed to go together, but he just called me saying he can’t make it. Something about a leak in his apartment from all the rain. So…”

You stifled a yawn. “So?” Your brain was still trying to catch up with the land of the awake and living. 

“Come with me?”

The words took a while and a few blinks to register. When they did, your first instinct was to say no. Jaehyun was fine in small doses. A quick chat over coffee, sporadic texts throughout the day, conversation within the safety of a group setting — these were all fine. Manageable. Nice, even. But Jaehyun in the flesh, outside of the office, with nobody else around to buffer the strange sort of tension that seemed to always thrum between the two of you — that was an entirely different ball game altogether. Sometimes, a mere run-in was enough to have your heart going a little faster than usual, nerves lighting up at the unexpected sight of his face. 

“I am not above begging. Please don’t make me go to this thing by myself.”

And yet, there was a flicker of something pleasant and sweet, something akin to excitement that curbed the nervous flutter in your gut. You were fifteen again, waiting outside the movie theatre, a little too giddy at the thought of spending time with the boy whose sweet smile had become the cause of your stomach somersaults. And that was before you had even admitted to yourself that you liked him, as more than a friend. 

“What time is it?” you found yourself asking.

So maybe you were seriously considering it. You had been meaning to put that new film camera to use. The thing had been collecting dust in one of your drawers ever since you bought it on a whim one night scrolling through Pinterest. Somehow, the rows of tables and monitors in the office didn’t seem like the most interesting camera subjects compared to the scenes of concerts and beach bonfires that had driven your impulsive purchase. 

“Well, the doors open at 11, but the first performer is at 12. And Lauv’s set isn’t until later in the evening.”

“Lauv is performing?” Your voice had gone up almost an octave, but you couldn’t care enough to be embarrassed. This was a crucial piece of information. Now you had to be there. 

He laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s a yes.” The covers were flipped off your legs in an instant.

It wasn’t that Jaehyun looked bad in slacks and a dress shirt. That was not the case at all. But you had grown used to them on him over the last few weeks, and the sight of his long legs in a pair of well-fitting trousers no longer caused a spike in your heart rate. 

Jaehyun in casual clothes outside the office was uncharted territory. 

The midday sun was strong outside the subway station. Clad in a black graphic tee over a pair of baggy green cargos, Jaehyun stood idly at the entrance, face hidden by the brown baseball cap on his head and eyes trained on his phone. How someone could look so gorgeous in something so ordinary was a secret only he knew the truth of. He caught sight of you from across the road, waiting for the pedestrian light, and raised his hand in a wave. 

“It’s different seeing you out of your work clothes,” he said. 

“Different good or different bad?”

A soft smile grazed his lips. “Just different. You look younger.”

“So do you,” you replied. 

You look like the boy I was in love with all those years ago. 

“Did you taxi?”

“No, I took the bus. There’s one that goes straight from my building. I didn’t know you lived around here,” you mused to yourself.

“My place is really close.” He pointed somewhere behind him. “Five minutes that way, tops. You should come over sometime.”

A slight pause. Jaehyun’s eyes flitted down to the pavement. You weren’t sure if the heat in your cheeks was from the sun or something else entirely. 

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “we should probably go. It takes 40 minutes to get there, so if we leave now we should be able to catch the 1pm.”

The subway on the weekend was nowhere near as awful as it usually was during the weekday rush hours, but packed nonetheless. You definitely preferred being stuck in a carriage full of bright-eyed and chattering teenagers than the usual crowd of solemn-faced office workers. When a seat finally freed up, Jaehyun was quick to offer it to you, manoeuvring himself so that he could stand in front of you as you sat down. Toe to toe, the tips of his shoes grazed yours, and you were suddenly reminded of study periods at the library. The two of you could never agree on who first started the game of footsie under the desk.

“See those girls over there?” you asked quietly, nodding towards a group of likely high schoolers down the other end of the carriage. Jaehyun turned his head to follow your gaze, catching sight of the girls who immediately erupted in whispers and giggles upon making eye contact with him. “They’ve been staring at you for the last two stops.”

He was quick to turn back towards you, nose scrunching and slightly embarrassed. “Kids these days are so weird,” he said with a soft groan. “Why are they doing that?”

“You know they’re only staring because you’re handsome.” 

Despite the pinkness of his ears, he was smiling wide. “You think I’m handsome?”

You blinked up at him. “I didn’t say that.” Did I? “I meant they probably think you’re handsome. Which is why they’re staring. You know. It’s nice to look at good-looking people.” 

The rushed explanations did nothing to shake the feeling that you had slipped-up somehow, and he had caught it. Jaehyun’s dimples only deepened at your backtracking.

“You know what I mean,” you finally huffed, biting back a smile at the deep sound of his responding laugh. “Whatever. I think this is our stop.”

The festival couldn’t have picked a better day to be held. The skies were clear and blue, and the air carried a light breeze that provided a welcome relief from the heavy stickiness of midsummer. It was a nice change from the sporadic rainstorms that had plagued the city over the last two weeks or so. Mark’s leaking apartment was proof of the temperamental weather. If you had one bone to pick, the sun was a tad strong, but that was to be expected. You had come prepared, tugging the bucket hat down further to cover your face. 

Alaina Castillo’s set was well underway by the time you and Jaehyun made your way into the venue grounds. A decent amount of people had already arrived, trickling in to fill up the gated area in front of the main stage. The two of you filed in with the rest, finding a place towards the back of the growing crowd where there was ample room to breathe without inhaling someone else’s breath. 

You had never been one for being stuck in a swarm of people. A harsh reminder of why that was the case appeared when, out of nowhere, a stranger’s elbow dug into your arm, knocking you sideways in their determined path towards the barricade. 

The steadying hand around your shoulder was instantaneous. 

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asked, and you mumbled something affirmative in reply, trying not to dwell too much on the warmth of his skin on your bare arm. His eyes followed the stranger who was still pushing on through the crowd in front. “People really need to watch where they’re going,” he muttered, brows drawn together in a frown.

The rest of the afternoon proceeded more smoothly. It was a little unsettling how normal and nice everything felt. Jaehyun kept close to you for the sets that followed, the distance between the two of you gradually shrinking as the crowd grew in size. The occasional brush of your forearms as you moved to the music was no longer something to jump at like you had the first time it had happened. You managed to snap a few pictures on your almost-new film camera, mostly of the artist performing, but there was one of you in there somewhere amidst the stage shots, taken by an insistent and smiley Jaehyun during one of the set breaks. 

“So this is why you wanted someone to come with you,” you said, sliding onto the bench and passing him one of the burgers from the food truck.

“It’s so much more efficient when you can line up for two things at once. If I was by myself, I’d either wait for the beer and let my burger get soggy, or wait for the burger and let my beer get warm and flat. This way the food is fresh, and our drinks are ice cold out of the fridge.”

You cracked a smile. “And here I thought you called me because you enjoyed my company.”

“I do enjoy your company,” he said without missing a beat. “The other stuff is just an added plus.”

You took a sip of the cold beer, hoping it would stave off the quick flush of your cheeks. Jaehyun said things so easily. Too easily. It was harder and harder to adhere to that invisible boundary you had been so adamant on protecting. 

Why were you so reluctant to let him back in? Why all the walls? He made it too easy for thoughts like that to creep in and loiter in the back of your mind. 

Evening had begun to settle, the brightness of the midday sky fading away to a twinkling twilight blue over your heads. The music was quieter at the picnic tables by the tents, where festival-goers sought respite from the main stage crowds with a cold beverage and something greasy. Between mouthfuls of an early makeshift dinner, you and Jaehyun sat in your own bubble, comfortably falling into conversation about the performances throughout the day, or whatever else happened to be on your minds.  

“Your mouth opens so wide,” you said, watching as he all but inhaled half the burger in one go. His nose scrunched up as he tried to take the massive bite, and the sight of it was such a far cry from his usual cool guy image that you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to snap a picture of it. The click of the shutter had him looking up at you mid-chew with a dismayed expression.

“That’s not fair. You attacked when I wasn’t ready!”

“I’d hardly call that an attack,” you said, not without a smile. “I was just getting a candid.”

He wiped his fingers on the napkin. “Okay, my turn then,” he said, gesturing for you to hand the camera over. You obliged, letting him point the lens at you and fiddle with the knobs along the top. His slender fingers navigated the controls with a practised ease.

“Relax,” he added softly, noticing your fidgeting. Twenty-something years, and you had made little progress in mastering the art of posing for photos. “Pretend the camera’s not here, and it’s just you and me.”

Right. Like that was supposed to make you loosen up.

“I actually used to be really into photography. Got pretty good at it too,” he said.

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“Picked it up in uni,” he explained. “Had all this free time on my hands and didn’t know what to do with it. Besides drinking.” A pause. “Honestly, first year second semester was pretty rough after… you know.”

The last part caught you somewhat off-guard. After that fateful April night, you had always assumed Jaehyun was off living his best life, blowing through society events with the new friends he had made, maybe even letting a few of them warm his bed now that you weren’t around. It wouldn’t have been the biggest surprise. Even at nineteen, Jaehyun’s good looks were uncontested. His sweet and attentive personality was the cherry on top of an already delectable cake. Whatever he got up to when the sun set, you were none the wiser, having completely wiped his existence from your phone by the time your first semester exam period rolled around. 

Though you didn’t go as far as to block his number, he never reached out, and so Jeong Jaehyun became a relic of the past, embracing his newfound freedom now that he had shed himself of you, his unwanted baggage.

Or so you thought.

“But yeah,” he continued, “I started getting into photography. Burnt a hole in my wallet trying out a bunch of different cameras,” he said with a chuckle. “I liked film the most though, I think. It’s the only one I still use now.” 

“What do you like about it?”

He took a moment, pausing in thought. “The colours, mostly. How it’s a bit muted, it has that vintage feeling.” You hummed in agreement. “Selfies on a film camera are fun as well.”

“You must really like looking at yourself,” you teased, enjoying the sight of his ears flushing with colour from where they poked out above the camera.

“Not like that,” he said in reply to the raise of your eyebrows. “It’s more like… when you take a selfie on film, you can’t see yourself, right? Whether the focus is focusing, or if the angle is right.

“Or if your whole face is actually in the shot, not just your right eye.”

“Exactly. But then taking the picture anyway. That’s what I like.” He pulled away from the camera to flash you a small smile. “Isn’t it funny, the way we try so hard to capture moments of time?”

Jaehyun’s attention returned to the viewfinder, leaving you to quietly dwell on his words. How else could one keep a piece of time stored away if not through photos? And yet, photography would never be able to capture the entirety of a moment the way a memory could. The sound of the band’s bass guitar from the side stage in the adjacent garden. The smell of summer carried by the evening breeze as it ruffled through his hair.

The warm feeling in your chest as you sat across from him at this wooden picnic bench, surrounded by people, sharing wistful conversation and a basket of fries. 

The feeling of coming home.

The shutter clicked.

“Got it. That last one is going to turn out so nice.” Jaehyun smiled triumphantly, cheeks dimpling. “If you make this your profile picture you have to add the ‘photo by’. I need my credits.”

You blinked away the precarious thoughts. “Alright, mister photographer man, give it back now. Don’t use up all my film before Lauv.”

He handed the camera back to you, looking very pleased with himself. The light from the nearby tents cast a dusky glow over his face. Jaehyun from Digital was sharp and polished. The Jaehyun before you now, with his hair dishevelled from taking off the cap earlier, was softer, more open, and more subtle in the way he had slipped under your defences and picked the locks chained around your heart. 

The question now was whether you’d let him in further than you already had.

He tugged at his collar. “God, it’s still muggy at night, isn’t it?” 

“You stay here, I’ll get us some more beers,” you said, already standing up.

If anything, you were grateful for the errand, a welcome distraction from the tumultuous battle between your heart and your head that always forged on at any thought of him. The line for the bar was no shorter than it had been half an hour ago, to nobody’s surprise (this was a festival in Seoul, of course the queues would be severe) and it was a while before the two cold plastic cups were in your hands. 

The short time away from him had given you the space to steer your mindset back onto the charted platonic course. A little voice in the back of your mind objected, and was making a damn convincing argument about why you should be more inclined to go beyond plain friendship with Jaehyun, but you chose to ignore it, suppressing the nagging with a deep breath and a smile that you hoped looked less conflicted than how you felt. Beers in hand, you carefully made your way back to the picnic table — only to be met with a rather interesting sight.

Jaehyun was still where you had left him, thankfully. But the two girls that now stood around him were a new addition. 

“Hey,” you greeted, tapping him on the shoulder to pass him one of the beers. The taller girl visibly deflated when he flashed you a grateful smile, taking the plastic cup from your hand. The shorter one, however, ran her eyes up and down your figure with an almost calculating gaze.

“Is this your friend?” the shorter one asked, question directed at Jaehyun.

“Uh, yeah, um—hi,” you answered very eloquently, introducing yourself. You tossed a glance between Jaehyun and the two girls. “Do you um—are you guys friends?”

“Well, no, not really. Minjeong and Jimin just came—”

“We were actually going to ask if you guys wanted to join us up closer to the main stage?” the shorter one (Minjeong perhaps?) asked, flashing a sweet smile you suspected was more for Jaehyun’s benefit than yours. “We have a blanket and a few chairs set up, so you can sit and watch the closing set. It’s much more comfortable than standing inside the barricade.”

“Jaehyun looked a little lonely by himself,” the taller one added.

Lonely because you left him for ten minutes to go get some cold drinks? These girls were unbelievable.

“What do you say? Want to join us?”

Maybe you should’ve taken the group of highschoolers on the subway earlier more seriously as a forewarning. Not that you had any say in what Jaehyun could and could not do — he was his own person, and the closest thing you had to a claim on him had disintegrated years ago. If he wanted to go hang out with pretty strangers, he could go and do exactly that, and you didn’t have to follow him either. The invitation had clearly been meant for him more than it had been for you.

So what if you had been looking forward to enjoying the last set together? You were a big girl. You could brave the main stage crowds by yourself if you had to.

Jaehyun glanced at you, searching your eyes while you tried your best to keep your face neutral and devoid of the uneasy thoughts bubbling away beneath your skin. He was his own person. He could make his own choices. 

After a second or two, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and turned back to the two expectant girls with a polite smile. “We’ll take our chances with the pit,” he answered. “But thank you for the offer. That’s kind of you guys.”

The two girls made their exit shortly afterwards, but not without a final look at him, and a decidedly less enthusiastic one at you. It was quiet for a few moments, the two of you sipping on your beers without a word, waiting for the other to speak.

“You could have gone with them if you wanted to,” you finally mumbled, eyes fixed on the contents of your cup.

To your surprise, Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m pretty sure Minjeong had an engagement ring on her finger.”

“Oh, what?” 

You definitely had not noticed, too occupied by the saccharine looks she was throwing his way.

“Yeah. It was a pretty big diamond too. I think she must have forgotten to take it off today.”

You turned to look at him then. Jaehyun already had his eyes on you, sporting a lazy grin. “Come on, you can’t think I’m the type to mess around with married women?”

“That’s not what I—I didn’t know—”

“Don’t worry,” he interjected. “You’re still cute when you’re jealous.”

The quick heat rising to your face dispelled any of the remaining nonchalance in your expression. “I wasn’t—I’m not jealous,” you spluttered. “I was just worried—I mean, not worried,” you paused, sighing. “I thought you’d leave me.”

His eyes sought out yours, keeping them captive once they grabbed a hold. 

“I wouldn’t leave you.”

The teasing brevity to his voice had disappeared. Somehow, you had the feeling he wasn’t simply talking about the jazz festival. The sincerity in his gaze made it hard to look away, but you had to, in the name of self preservation. Too long staring into those brown eyes was an unnecessary test of the upper limits of your heart rate. 

“Maybe she came with her husband. He could be up there on that picnic mat, waiting for her.”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “Trust me, if her husband was here, she would not have been looking at me like that.”

To their credit though, finding a spot to watch the main stage proved to be rather difficult now that everyone had arrived to catch the final act. For a moment you considered leaving the pit to take the two girls up on their offer. But with Jaehyun by your side, you were able to navigate the crowds with a bit more peace of mind, his presence a solid and comforting anchor within the sea of people. A few rogue pushes here and there had you stumbling — and perhaps the two beers on a rather empty stomach were coming on faster than you had expected — but he was there, steadying you with a gentle hand around your arm, or the light press of his firm chest against your back.

And maybe you leaned into him for longer than necessary to regain your balance, but was that really a crime? To enjoy the touch of a friend? Was it a crime for warmth to pool in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him swaying along to Lauv’s Enemies?

No, the little voice in your head denied forcefully. Jaehyun grooving to the music had always been one of your weaknesses. 

As the closing chords of Paris in the Rain sounded out across the venue, you pulled out your film camera.

“Walking down an empty street.”

A gentle nudge of Jaehyun’s shoulder had him turning towards you, nose scrunched in a happy half-laugh from watching the performance. You moved to face the back of the crowd and raised the camera high, pointing it towards the two of you. 

Was the stage in the shot? Was Lauv? 

Were you?

“Puddles underneath our feet.”

Call it courage, or liquid courage, or just plain recklessness on your part. Rising up on your tiptoes, you pressed your cheek to his, and clicked the shutter button. 

The final chord of the song struck, softly, like an afterthought, and the crowd burst into appreciative hoots and applause, marking the end of the performance.

You were beaming as you turned back towards him. “Do you think I got that one?”

Jaehyun simply stared at you, lips parted and turned up slightly at the corners. He looked more caught off-guard than he had when you had told him you thought all the Cigarettes After Sex songs sounded the same. You felt the glowing smile on your face slip, little by little, as you let his eyes roam your features, gaze indecipherable. They flitted to your lips, and for a second you were sure you stopped breathing.

Just do it! Just fucking do it! screamed that little voice in the back of your mind.

And perhaps you would’ve done it too, whatever it was, if it weren’t for the shove from behind that sent you almost face-planting into his chest.

“What the hell?” you yelped, whipping your head around. 

What was with the people here today? You never thought jazz lovers could be so aggressive and insensitive to others’ personal space. Trying to find the perpetrator was a futile task, since the crowd had started to disperse following the end of the performance, moving in all directions.

Jaehyun looked over you with concern, the earlier expression on his face now gone. 

“Come on,” he finally said, fingers gently circling around your wrist. “Let’s get out of here before we get trampled by the crowd.”

Overhead, the blue-black sky that had been so cooperative for the whole day emitted a low rumble, as if to emphasise Jaehyun’s words. Sure enough, by the time the two of you arrived at the station, it had started to sprinkle. Perhaps the clouds had been holding back the rain until the very end of the festival. How considerate of them, you thought.

The ride back into the city felt shorter than the one to the venue, though it couldn’t have been. Saturday nights were even busier than the weekday rush hour, with people young and old out and about, ready to tame the weekend with sheer determination and a bottle of soju in the stomach. This time, there were no free seats in your carriage, but you didn’t mind. Standing with Jaehyun, your heads pressed together to go through the videos in his camera roll, made the time pass faster. There was something to his photos, you decided. Something in the angle, or the light, or the composition, that made them look nicer than the ones on your phone. Maybe you ought to take a photography course too.

The clouds may have been considerate enough for the festival to hold off dumping their contents during the day, but they certainly were not for the two of you tonight. Standing under cover at the subway station exit, you watched as the torrential deluge only seemed to worsen. Thunder cracked angrily through the air. It wasn’t July without the threat of flash flooding. 

“Any drivers around?” Jaehyun asked.

You gave a sad shake of your head. “Nobody’s picking up my request. Must be because of the rain,” you muttered. Overhead, the sky split open with a strike of lightning, startling you, and you jumped back a bit, further into the covered area of the exit.

“How about the bus?”

“I think I just missed one,” you answered, checking the timetable on your phone. “It says the next isn’t for another twenty minutes. But with the rain, it might be delayed even longer.”

You flicked through the taxi app, then the bus timetable app, and then finally back to the weather app, which you always seemed to forget to check on days like this. Three consecutive 100% signs stared back at you, and you let out a sigh. The sky would not be clearing up anytime soon.

“My apartment is only two streets down, if you want somewhere to wait out the rain,” he said.

You looked up at him. The smile on his face was guileless, but at the same time, there was something guarded about it, like he was expecting your rejection. Perhaps you had studied his face for too long, because then he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and averting his eyes to the ground.

“Or you don’t have to, we could just—”

“Okay,” you said.

His head shot back up. “Okay?”

You shrugged, a smile finding its way to your lips. “I’d rather not be soaking wet on the bus.”

“Okay,” he repeated, corners of his mouth turning upwards to mirror yours. “To my place, then.”

The usual five minute walk to Jaehyun’s apartment from the subway station turned into a two-and-a-half minute mad dash under the downpour. Despite your attempts at keeping to storefront shelters and ducking under the cover of big trees, the short trip had ended up with the both of you drenched to the bone, teeth chattering as you dripped rainwater all over his lobby.

You said a silent apology to the building cleaners. 

It was a relief to be dry again. Jaehyun’s sweats swamped you, the French terry fabric pooling around your feet as you sat on the couch in his living room. The top was no better, reaching almost to your knees, with the sleeves completely covering your fingertips. His clothes weren’t always this big on you. At least he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. 

The sound of the running shower blended smoothly with the raindrops pelting violently against the balcony window. You wrung your hands, unsure of what to do while you waited for him to come out of the bathroom. It was easy to feel out of place in a home foreign to you. The sleek furniture and minimalist colour palette of the apartment looked nothing like Jaehyun’s childhood bedroom. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to come to his place. While you were pretty sure he hadn’t invited you up with any ulterior motives in mind, there was still something ambiguous about being in your ex-boyfriend’s home and wearing his clothes. And only his clothes. 

You would have liked to keep your undergarments on, but they had also been soaked through. Going bare in these too-big sweats had seemed the less questionable option, compared to sitting with a wet patch around your butt and crotch. Heat flooded your face as you thought about your underwear and bra hanging on the heated towel rack in the bathroom. 

Whatever. It wasn’t like they were things he’d never seen before. And as for his clothes, of course you’d wash them before giving them back to him. 

It was then that you decided that you had enough of sitting around in a puddle of fabric and your own thoughts. Jaehyun’s living room wasn’t all that big, even if it felt roomier than your own, with enough space to fit a decently-sized couch and small coffee table. The tv on the far wall sat atop a rather large entertainment unit that, upon further inspection, also housed a record player and an impressive collection of vinyls. 

You padded over, eyes flicking through the various titles printed on the covers. One of them had been taken out from the shelf and sat splayed on top of the cabinet. Maybe he had meant to play it, or just forgotten to put it away. Slowly, you let a finger trace around the edge of the jacket and over the black lettering of the title. You’d recognise that white album cover anywhere.

Only you knew how much effort it had taken to source the thing, scouring auction sites and dodgy online stores until you finally bit the bullet and ordered it from a reasonable-looking seller with a 4.7 star rating. But it had all been worth it. The unadulterated joy on Jaehyun’s face as he undid the wrapping paper to reveal Frank Ocean’s Blonde was not something you could easily forget. Later, you found out that it had probably been a bootleg, since the official Blonde vinyls were a limited release, but he had hardly batted an eye when you broke the news.

“Still my favourite birthday present that anyone’s gotten me,” Jaehyun said. 

Dressed in a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweatpants, he leant against the bathroom door, surveying you with an easy smile. You must not have heard the shower turn off, the noise drowned out by the storm raging outside. His hair, still damp from the shower, hung over his eyes, and you watched as he brushed it back with his right hand, arm flexing with the movement.

The sudden flare in your lower belly was something you’d rather not feel, alone in these four walls with him, with nobody else around to witness or put a stop to whatever might follow. You’d like to think self control was something you had a firm grip on, but it seemed Jaehyun was made to put you to the test.

“Actually think it might be my favourite present ever,” he added, pushing off the door frame. He reached you in a few strides, maintaining a polite distance between your bodies.

“I didn’t even realise you still had this,” you murmured, letting him take the record from your hands. You tried not to flinch at the brush of his fingers against yours. “You didn’t even have one of these back then,” you said, lightly tapping the case of the record player.

“I changed my mind, actually. The turntable is my favourite present.”

An unfamiliar twinge of dread zipped through you. “Who gave it to you?” 

Could it be an ex-lover’s gift sitting on display in his living room? That did not sit nicely in your stomach.

“Myself.” 

He was holding back a laugh, eyes squeezed into crescent moons and too busy appreciating his own joke to catch the quick roll of your eyes. Instantly, your chest felt a little lighter, and the dread vanished as quickly as it had come on.

“Here, let me put it on,” he said, shuffling over towards you to lift up the case on the record player. With gentle fingers and a delicateness you didn’t see often, he unsleeved the record and carefully placed it on the turntable. A few fiddles with the side knobs and a precise adjustment of the needle arm later, the opening bars of Frank Ocean’s Pink and White filled the air of his living room.

For a minute, there were no words exchanged, the two of you simply content to enjoy the music as it filtered through the speakers. There was a quiet smile on Jaehyun’s face. You wondered if he, like you, was thinking of the last time you had listened to this album together.

The image of the two of you, sprawled out on his bed, sharing a pair of wired earphones, was hard to shake. It had been early evening, or nearly twilight. Sometime before sunset. The reflection on the ceiling of his childhood bedroom had changed along with the sky, until the only light left in the room was the dim blue glow from the laptop on his desk. At his mother’s call for dinner, he had gently shaken you awake, fingers light on your shoulder and against your cheek. 

Jaehyun was undoubtedly handsome in the light. But there was something about dusk and the softness of the shadows on his face that made him all the more compelling. You usually weren’t one to initiate, so the kiss you pressed to his mouth in the barely-lit room had surprised you both. 

Even now, the thought strangely sent a flood of heat to your cheeks.

“Sorry, did you want something to eat? I haven’t been a very good host.”

The grumble of your stomach answered before you could. You bit back an embarrassed smile, but Jaehyun was not so frugal with his amusement, letting out a short chuckle. Your feet followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. Perched on the marble countertop, you watched as he rummaged through the fridge.

“I have eggs, yesterday’s leftovers, and a shit ton of beer cans,” he announced. 

You exchanged a glance.

“Let’s do ramen, actually. That sounds better.” He bent down to dig through the pantry, pulling out two red packets, before moving back to the fridge and getting two eggs. “I can crack these in too, and—why are you looking at me like that?”

It was your turn to laugh, the wide grin on your face a contrast to the cautious smile on his.

“Are we having ramen?”

His brow creased a little. “I thought you liked ramen?” The innocent tilt of his head made him all the more endearing to look at.

“I do, but… did you really invite me back to your place… to have ramen?”

It took a few seconds for the ball to drop. You held back giggles as his ears flushed hotly, as they always seemed to do on the occasions you decided to indulge yourself and tease him.

“Come on, that’s not—you’re doing it on purpose,” he said, bottom lip jutting out with the suggestion of a pout. Despite his grumbles, the shape of his mouth slowly settled into a defeated smile at your visible glee of having flustered him. 

Jaehyun, soft-spoken and easy-going, was not the type to be easily ruffled. You excelled and enjoyed the challenge of it more than most.

“No,” he said once your laughter had somewhat subsided, voice low and velvety. “But I wouldn’t be opposed.”

And suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.

The silence that followed was a loud one. It was hard to ignore the way your mouth dried up at his words. Something warm and tingly spread from your stomach all the way down to your toes as you stood there under his level gaze, eyes drawn to his like magnets. He had to know. The effect his words had on you were surely plastered all over your face, obvious in the tight grip of your fingers against the countertop and the shortening of your breaths.

Jaehyun leaned in a little closer and you felt the inhale stick in the back of your throat. Then he cracked a crooked smile, pretty teeth all on display. 

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

He moved away then, busying himself with pouring water into a pot and bringing it to a boil while you tried to blink yourself out of the daze. “Ramen okay?” he asked over his shoulder.

You cleared your dry throat, somehow finding your voice again. “Ramen is fine. Thank you,” you added after a beat. You took a deep breath, waiting for the rush of blood to drain from your face. 

Something sour settled in your chest — something akin to disappointment, though surely it couldn’t be. Disappointed that what? Jaehyun wasn’t actually sexually attracted to you? When you were obviously still attracted to him, despite all your attempts at convincing yourself you weren’t?

You scoffed to yourself. As if.

A quick shake of your head was almost enough to clear your mind, save for the remnants of that sour feeling that lingered. You asked if there was anything you could do to help, not wanting to simply sit around on your thumbs and wait to be fed. He had insisted you do exactly that, warning you there was only enough space in the kitchen for one, and assuring that there was nothing he needed from you besides patience and faith in his cooking. 

Patience you could give him. Faith was a little harder to muster, given your memories of the kitchen disaster from when he had tried to make okonomiyaki. 

The questionable, half-burnt half-uncooked taste was one thing. You finding random pieces of cabbage on the tiled floor for days afterwards was another thing entirely.

However, it seemed Jaehyun had improved from his old ways. The steaming pot he brought over to the coffee table not only smelled delicious, but looked the part too. You helped carry over the small bowls and chopsticks, along with two cans of beer, despite his requests for you to just sit and be ready to eat.

You took the first bite, blowing on the noodles to cool them down before slurping them into your mouth. All the while, he watched you, an expectant expression painting his face. 

“Wow. You’ve grown up, Jeong Jaehyun. Who would’ve guessed you’d become such a whiz in the kitchen?” 

He smiled, a bashful one at your compliment. “Being able to cook ramen is nothing impressive,” he said, digging in with his own chopsticks.

“There was no way you could have made this for me when we were 17. Look at this egg!” The centre was perfectly soft, not too runny, but not rock hard either. Just the way you liked them. 

You took another mouthful. “You’re a changed man,” you said. “Honestly, your place is a lot cleaner than I expected it to be.”

“That’s what living with four other guys will do to you. I had to learn how to clean out of pure survival,” he chuckled. 

“Was it really that bad?”

He grimaced. “You should’ve seen my dorm room. Basically a biological hazard.”

“They didn’t let non-students into the building. Your building RA was crazy scary, remember?” Even now you could remember the perpetual scowl of the law major when Jaehyun brought you into the dorm lobby.

“It was probably for the best. You would’ve broken up with me on the spot the second you walked through the door.”

You shared a laugh. Strangely, jokes about your break-up were light-hearted in their landing, the words leaving much less of a prickly uncomfortableness than you had been expecting. Perhaps it was still an event of importance in your life, but that cloudy unpleasantness you had come to associate it with had dissipated. It was a turning point, certainly. But so was graduation, and moving out, and travelling overseas for the first time. 

Your feelings about those things weren’t all bad. As you shared the pot of ramen and sipped on your beers, you realised, neither were your feelings about Jaehyun.

“I’m telling you, I was drinking Taeyong under the table. And I do mean that literally. He was passed out and laid across the stools.” He grinned, proud at the memory of beating his senior even five years later. You couldn’t help but grin too, amused by the sincerity of his expression and the way his shoulders set in accomplishment.

“Okay, okay. So now you’re a better drinker, you’ve gotten good at cooking, and you’re cleaner too.”

“And funnier,” he added.

“That one is still up for debate,” you joked, and his eyebrows furrowed together in mock offence. Digs at his sense of humour were not taken lightly. 

“Just because you don’t get my high quality gags,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re missing out.”

You nodded, making a noise of agreement if only to appease him. 

“What about me? How am I different?” you asked, voice curious. 

Jaehyun didn’t miss a beat. “Hmm, I think you got older?”

“Come on, I’m being serious!”

His laughter subdued then, surveying you thoughtfully. A quiet smile tugged at his lips when he spoke again. 

“You’re more outspoken than you used to be.” He paused, taking a sip from his can while trying to find the right words, all the while keeping his eyes on you. “You prioritise yourself more. And you’re more sure of who you are. You shine brighter, I think.”

Strange, how a person’s gaze could strip you down and make you feel so naked. There was nothing but earnestness in his eyes, plain and absolute, and the intensity of it was almost too much for you to bear. After all your time apart, Jaehyun could still see you, and see through you. 

I think you still know me inside out, and that scares me, you wanted to tell him.

Instead, you looked away first, tearing your eyes away from his with considerable effort. The pot of ramen on the coffee table, lukewarm now, was almost finished. The music had also stopped playing a while ago. Neither you or Jaehyun had bothered to get up and flip the vinyl to the other side, too busy eating. All that was left was the rain, and even that had faded to a soft pattering against the glass, following its own rhythm. 

Hastily, you stuffed a piece of kimchi into your mouth, for lack of anything better to do. The crunch of it in your mouth was loud, and you fought back a cringe.

“Did your mother make this?” you asked, hoping your attempt at diverting the conversation wasn’t so obvious.

If Jaehyun noticed, he didn’t show it, only nodding in confirmation. 

“She dropped some off last month,” he replied. “Remember how you told me her’s was better than your own mother’s?”

You let out a scandalised gasp. “As if I would ever say such a thing! Don’t let my mother ever hear something so blasphemous about her favourite daughter.”

“You’re her only daughter.”

“And you care too much about technicalities. Just because I’m the only one doesn’t mean I can’t still be the favourite.”

The crisp crunch of another piece of kimchi punctuated the end of your sentence. There was certainly something different about Mama Jeong’s recipes. If there was one thing you missed besides Jaehyun himself, it would have been his mother’s cooking. The woman knew her way around a stovetop better than a Michelin chef, at least in your eyes. 

You thought of her warm smile, and her even warmer embrace. Jaehyun had inherited many things from her, kindness being the greatest of them. Back then, she had been so sure of your future place in their family, welcoming you into her home as if you were her own daughter. You wondered where she stood on that now.

Still clinging onto that idea, perhaps, or were her sights now set on someone else?

“You’ve got something…”  Jaehyun murmured.

He reached across the table, over the pot and the small bowls, the movement quick and almost instinctive. Soft fingers found purchase on your left cheek. His thumb was gentle as it brushed away the stray chilli flake from the corner of your mouth.

Just the lightest touch against your bottom lip. And the warmth of his hand cradling your face.

Then he froze, as if to catch himself, but the damage was already done.

Jaehyun pulled his hand back with a start, an inscrutable expression across his face. He spilled a quick apology that you smiled away, putting on a composed front. At least, you assumed it was an apology. It was hard to hear anything above the buzzing chaos of your mind. The air filled with idle noise as the two of you shuffled in your seats.

“I should um—I should probably get going,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. The meal had long been finished. Your hands were already beginning to gather up the bowls and utensils into a stack for easy carrying. 

Jaehyun hummed, something akin to resignation in the noise. “Yeah, uh… I guess so.”

“Let me help you clean up first, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Despite his protests against you assisting with any kind of housework, there you were at the sink, helping him scrub everything nice and clean within the small space of his kitchen. Maybe he was right about there only being enough space for one person behind the counter. The aluminium beer cans went into their designated bins, and you made sure to wipe down the coffee table too.

This time, your half-damp, half-dried clothes found their way into a Byredo shopping bag — Jaehyun would rather die than not smell good — though your shoes still squelched rather uncomfortably when you slipped your bare feet in. By luck, you were able to book a taxi and could pass on the wet walk to the bus stop.

You thanked him again for bringing you along, noting that you probably got more out of the alleged ‘favour’ than he did. 

“Trust me, going with you made the whole thing so much better,” he said, both cheeks dimpling in your favourite smile of his. “And let me know if you need to get the film on your camera developed. I know a place.”

The ride home was flavoured by a sudden loneliness. Maybe it was the view of the city at night, or the absence of people out on the rainy streets, that had an empty feeling settle in your chest. 

Perhaps you should have delayed leaving his apartment. Perhaps you shouldn’t have left at all, and instead weathered the night away with Jaehyun on the couch, some slasher flick playing on the television while you shook under the blankets and tried not to scream at the jumpscares, like you used to. You never did understand why he liked horror films as much as he did.

Perhaps he’d slot his fingers between your own and give them a reassuring squeeze, and gaze at you with the kind of amused fondness he only ever reserved for you.

Heat flooded your face. As if you were entertaining the thought of spending the night at your ex-boyfriend’s place. And getting butterflies at the thought of holding hands? 

How embarrassing.

One thing was for certain. The walls you had put up were cracking, and there seemed to be little hope of patching them up.

“Will you stop messing with that thing?”

Jungwoo clicked his tongue against his teeth, fingers still fiddling with the ribbon on the gift bag. 

“It’s not straight,” he grumbled, pulling at the bow.

“You’re so pedantic.”

“It’s called being detail-oriented,” he fired back, leaning against the backseat of the taxi with a sigh.

You raised an eyebrow. “You say that like I’m not.”

“Well,” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. His mouth formed the shape of a smirk. 

You flicked a glance towards the rearview mirror, checking to see if the driver was paying attention to the two of you in the back. After verifying he was not, you landed a few (soft…ish) punches on Jungwoo’s upper arm, revelling in the shocked little noises he made, along with a few mumbles of ‘that actually hurts’ and ‘crazy woman’. 

How nice it was to let your hands fly without the threat of some other fifth floor witness reporting you for physical harassment. 

“I’m telling Joy the present is entirely from me,” you warned, turning around to face the front again.

“Right, except the card inside says my name too. So that’s not going to work.”

You reached into the gift bag, pulling out said card before rolling down the window. “Let me just throw this out.”

It was Jungwoo’s turn to deliver a light smack to your wrist. You dropped the envelope back in the bag, not without tossing an eye-roll his way. He knew just as well as you did that there was no real substance behind the threats — banter with Jungwoo was more for amusement than anything else. Deep down, you were quite fond of him, even if your actions tended to say otherwise, and you’d like to wager he quite enjoyed your company too. 

You couldn’t wait to get a few shots in him later tonight. Word had it he was a notorious lightweight. 

“Hopefully nobody vomits. I’d hate to be cleaning that up in my own house.” He shuddered at the thought. 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” you smiled sweetly, patting him on the shoulder. “You just focus on sticking to your limit, okay? I heard what happened at last year’s wrap up event.”

He bristled. “Nothing happened! It honestly wasn’t even that bad. I’m getting unfairly slandered,” he sulked. “I think you should stop hanging out with Joy so much.”

“Yeah, alright. Should we just skip her birthday party and turn the car around then?”

“Shut up.”

The taxi pulled up in front of Joy’s apartment complex, a tall modern thing with much bigger windows than your own building. And so much more glass, too. After splitting the taxi fare with Jungwoo, the two of you stood at the entrance, waiting for the intercom to connect. 

“Are you sure you pressed the right buttons?” Jungwoo asked, peering over your shoulder.

“Yes, of course. Apartment 814.”

“Maybe you should let me try.”

You let out a sigh. “It’s three numbers, Jungwoo. How is it going to be any different if it’s you pressing them instead of me? Do you think the keypad is going to magically—”

“Hello?” 

An unfamiliar male voice crackled through the intercom. “Are you here for Joy?” 

“Yes,” you and Jungwoo answered in unison. 

“Great, I’ll come down to get you guys now. Will only be a minute!” and then the line disconnected.

You and Jungwoo exchanged a glance. “Is he going to let us in?” you asked. 

“He literally said he’d come down to get us,” he answered flatly. “Do you not listen?”

“It was hard to hear him clearly with all the noise in the background,” you grumbled in defence. Hopefully Joy’s walls were thicker than your own, and her neighbours would not lodge a complaint halfway through the night.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the face of the intercom answerer. It wasn’t detective work to match up the real thing to the pictures Joy would sometimes show you, though he looked taller in real life than he did in the photos from their weekend Jeju trip.

“Sorry about the wait, it was a bit hard to hear the doorbell,” he greeted, ushering you both inside with a warm smile. “I’m Doyoung, by the way.”

You and Jungwoo both introduced yourselves as you stepped into the elevator after him, to which he responded with a hum in recognition, and a knowing grin.

“Are you on door duty for the night?” Jungwoo asked.

Doyoung nodded, pressing on the button for the eighth floor. “It appears I am. She has her hands full with guests to entertain, so,” he trailed off, eyes glazing over for a split second, “you’ll see what I mean when we get up there.”

You had never imagined that a 2-bedroom apartment could fit so many people. Granted, it was nothing compared to the kind of parties you frequented during your university days where cheap spirits and green soju bottles lined the counter, but it was quite a distant cry from the gathering you thought it would be. Judging by the look on Jungwoo’s face, he had not been expecting this either. 

There had to be at least forty people. It almost made you wonder why she didn’t just book out a space instead of letting everyone invade her and her boyfriend’s shared home.

Doyoung made his exit rather quickly after letting you in, probably off to tend to one of his many other duties as unofficial host — poor guy was likely in for a very busy night — leaving you and Jungwoo to fend for yourselves in the entryway of the apartment. There was barely any room left in the tiled space for you to put your shoes.

How did Joy even know this many people? was the thought at the forefront of your mind as you helped Jungwoo stack his sneakers next to yours on a rack further down the hallway. Her present was left on a table near the entry piled with gift bags and wrapped boxes that you assumed was the designated drop-off area. 

Speaking of the birthday girl, you spotted her mingling in the living room and pointed her out to Jungwoo, though it was no easy feat finding her. The number of people, coupled with the dim ambient lighting, made it a challenge to recognise familiar faces. Joy, champagne glass in hand, was swept away in conversation with one of the most beautiful women you had ever laid eyes on. The gorgeous lady held a matching champagne flute in one hand, while the other was wrapped around the arm of—

“Junmyeon? What the hell is he doing here with that beautiful woman?” 

Jungwoo took the words right out of your mouth, a somewhat displeased noise making its way past his lips. You couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

“Can’t believe this turned into a work function the moment we stepped through the door,” you all but groaned. “And here I thought having you around was bad enough already.”

You expertly dodged the elbow he jabbed into your side.

Joy spotted the two of you then, lingering by the kitchen, and quickly excused herself from the conversation to rush over. The champagne wobbled precariously in her glass as she approached, engulfing the two of you in a sweet-smelling hug.

“My little children! I’m so glad you could make it!” she cried, resting her chin in the space between your shoulder and Jungwoo’s. You exchanged a glance with the boy amidst the chorus of ‘happy birthday’s. 

There was a 77% chance she was drunk already.

“Had a little too much fun tonight?” you asked, helping to prop her upright again.

Joy only beamed in response. “All the more fun now that you two are here. My favourite fifth floor prisoners.” She gave your cheek a soft pinch.

“Quick question,” Jungwoo began, “why is our manager in your house?”

“With his arm around a beautiful woman way out of his league?” you added, swatting her fingers away from your face.

“That’s my sister Irene,” she said, like it was common knowledge. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you have a sister?”

“Okay, well not my real sister,” she amended, hurriedly waving off your words. “She was a senior in my department. I was really close with her back in university, so, basically my sister. I think we look pretty alike, honestly.”

“And her relation to Junmyeon is…?”

Joy threw a conspiratorial glance around before leaning in, beckoning the two of you closer. This time, a few drops of the champagne did manage to escape via the side of her glass, narrowly missing Jungwoo’s white socks.

“I set them up. On a date!” she whispered, eyes glinting with pride. Why she chose to whisper when it was already hard enough to hear her above the noise at her normal speaking level was beyond you.

You blinked at her a few times. “You set up a goddess like that… with our manager?”

Joy waved another hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Like Junmyeon’s not handsome too. You only think that because you’re too used to seeing him frown and squint at a monitor.” 

You cast a glance in his direction. Maybe she was right. Junmyeon did look somewhat more like a human without his glasses and the semi-permanent lines etched into his forehead. He even looked (dare you say it) quite nice. But maybe it was the poor lighting that made it seem that way.

“Anyways, it’s been about… two months now? I think they look pretty good together,” she mused, following your gaze. 

Junmyeon must have said something funny — a rather loose use of the word by your standards — because Irene had her lovely face scrunched up in a laugh, the pitched sound of it ringing out clearly above the noise of the apartment. In her amusement, she even threw a hand out to slap him lightly on the arm, which he appeared very pleased by.

Sure, you laughed at his jokes too, but it was more out of corporate self-preservation than actual amusement. 

“He kind of has been in a better mood recently,” Jungwoo said thoughtfully.

Joy grabbed his hand with fervour. “Yes, exactly! See? Thanks to my sacrifice, we can all enjoy a nicer, much more pleasant office environment.”

“I’d hardly call that a sacrifice,” you chuckled. “You take too much pleasure in playing matchmaker.” Joy’s response was nothing more than a guilty smile, followed by her emptying the rest of the glass.

It was then that you heard it — the deep, reverberating laugh that always bordered a little bit on breathlessness. It was slightly unnerving how quickly you could pinpoint the sound of his voice without even seeing him, or knowing that he had entered the room. 

You turned around first, eyes drawn to the entry hallway in search of the face to which the laugh belonged. Of course he was going to be here. You knew that. He had said as much two days ago, bidding you farewell across the cafeteria table with a promise to ‘see you on the weekend at Joy’s’.

Lunch with Jaehyun had recently become a rarer occurrence. From what he told you, and the bits of information you gleaned from Joy about Digital, Johnny had pulled Jaehyun onto his team to try and get a firmer grip on the reins not even two weeks ago. Already, the intensity of the new workload was obvious.

You certainly saw him less, much to your disappointment — you could admit that to yourself now.

Jaehyun emerged from the hallway then, midway through another laugh with an arm slung around Doyoung’s shoulders. Funny, how all the other faces were so murky and hard to identify under the dim lighting. And yet, the shape of his dimpled smile was unmistakable to you, as bright as the beacon of a lighthouse on the midnight sea. 

Doyoung scanned the room, catching sight of Joy with you and Jungwoo. He gestured at his girlfriend, and Jaehyun obediently turned in your direction, likely wanting to give his greetings to the birthday girl.

Your eyes locked, and your heart gave a woeful little squeeze in your chest.

“I’m just going to do a quick check on the drink inventory,” Doyoung said as they approached, “I’ll be right back. And please take care of my favourite guest.” With a final friendly pat on Jaehyun’s shoulder, he was off, ducking into the kitchen. 

“Happy birthday!” Jaehyun beamed, arms circling around Joy in a hug which she enthusiastically returned. He grabbed Jungwoo’s hand, pulling him in for one of those man greetings. (Since when were they close?) Their apparent friendship was an unexpected development. 

And then it was your turn. You wondered if it was as easy for others to find solace in a mere gaze as you did with Jaehyun. His eyes did not stray far, wandering around your face, something tender and comforting in his appraisal of your features. A hand came up to brush against your lower back, a gentle and quiet greeting against the excitement of the previous two. His lips pulled into a soft smile as he called your name in greeting. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Joy scoffed.

You inhaled sharply. Was it really that easy to tell? The depth of your attachment?

“You planned this, right? I mean seriously, matching outfits?” she asked, gesturing at you and Jaehyun.

You blinked a few times, looking down blankly at yourself. The dark wash denim and white silk that you had picked out yesterday looked back at you familiarly. Then you glanced at Jaehyun, taking in his white t-shirt, half tucked into a pair of jeans that were exactly the same wash as yours. 

The coordination was completely unintentional — you had no idea what you were going to wear tonight the last time you had spoken to him — but the look on Joy’s face told you there was no use in trying to convince her of the truth. 

(You would’ve argued that the cowl neck of your white silk top elevated your outfit above Jaehyun’s plain white tee, but you digressed.)

“Okay. I’m done with this,” Jungwoo said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’m going to do what single people do, and that is to get a goddamn drink.”

“Me too, another bubbly,” Joy chimed, grasping onto Jungwoo’s arm as he turned to leave for the kitchen. “See my success rate? Let me set you up with someone. My hairdresser’s daughter went to Korea University Business School and graduated not too long ago.” 

The rest of her appeal to play matchmaker for Jungwoo was swallowed up by the music and chatter of her guests. And then it was just you, and Jaehyun, and the thirty other people filling up the living room. 

The two of you shared a glance before dissolving into a few light giggles. 

“I do think I pull it off better,” you teased, giving Jaehyun another once-over. He was as handsome as always, the white cotton draped picturesquely across his lean frame while the dark jeans made his mile-long legs look even longer. He could wear a garbage bag and make it look couture. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said with a crooked smile. 

He raised his arm to reveal the denim jacket draped across his arm that you hadn’t noticed before, too busy making sad little googly eyes at him that you hoped other people couldn’t see. The jacket was coloured in the same wash as his jeans, and your own. 

You gave a scandalised gasp. “No, a matching set? How am I supposed to beat that?”

“You can’t. You can only admit defeat to the double denim. I out-Justin-Timberlaked you.”

“Justin Timberlake is not a verb.”

He only grinned in response, teeth pearly and eyes sparkling as he took in the slight pout of your mouth. 

“Whatever,” you conceded with a wave of your hand, though a smile crept its way onto your face. “You win. Let’s get something to drink.”

Jungwoo and Joy were nowhere to be found when the two of you made your way to the kitchen. What you did find was an impressive selection of bottles atop the marble counter, a selection that easily outdid the ones from your university days in both quality and variety. 

At least one thing was the same. Green soju bottles were always a dependable presence. 

“Shall we go for your favourite?” Jaehyun asked, holding up what looked to be a bottle of wine. You moved a little closer, peering at the label through his fingers.

“I do enjoy a good red,” you replied, accepting the glass he offered you with a quiet ‘thank you’. You took a small sip — because tonight, you felt no need to gulp down alcohol like a camel to ease your nerves — before adding, “Merlot is far from my favourite though.”

“Really?’ He raised an eyebrow. “I do seem to remember how you pretty much finished a whole bottle by yourself. At dinner, that time at the Italian place.”

You held back a wince at the recollection of that fated blind date. Of course he’d remember that. It would be hard to forget the way you all but sculled down three full glasses in the time it took him to finish one. A quick sideways glance revealed the slight upturn to the corners of his mouth, paired with a telling glint in his eyes. Jaehyun was teasing.

“It was honestly quite impressive,” he said, lips curling into a full-blown smile now.

“That was different,” you said. The next sip went down a little faster than you would have liked. “That was out of necessity.” 

There was no way I could’ve made it through that night without alcohol in my system, you almost said, but caught yourself just in time. 

A few seconds passed before either of you spoke again.

“Were you really upset to see me?”

Gone was the playful lilt to his voice. This question was asked softly, carefully, the sound of it so delicate you were afraid it would shatter in the air at your clumsy reply. Slowly, you turned to look at him, seeking the reassurance you were sure you could find in his eyes, but they had moved to the contents of his own glass. You followed their path, watching as he gave the liquid a few absent-minded swirls.

“Maybe. A little, I think,” you admitted. “I don’t know. There was a lot going on in my head that day. When I realised it was you.”

A pair of giggling women — Joy’s guests who you didn’t know — approached the counter, one of them tentatively reaching for something in front of you. Noticing her struggle, you shuffled slightly towards Jaehyun, trying to make some space around the counter. The one with her hand outstretched flashed you a grateful smile, which you politely returned, although with far less vigour. 

Perhaps the bustling kitchen in the centre of all the foot traffic wasn’t the best place for a conversation like this.

There was some fussing with the bottle cap, or whatever it was that they couldn’t quite get to work, followed by a considerably clean pour for two people who were clearly not quite sober. Then they were gone, giggling the entire way out of the kitchen and freeing up the space around you.

If you wanted to, you could have stepped back and returned to your original spot before their arrival. Put some more distance between you and Jaehyun again. Not that you were seriously encroaching on his personal space, but it was enough for you to recognise the proximity.

Instead, you took the smallest of steps closer and placed a hand on his forearm. His eyes flitted down at the touch, taking in the way your fingers lay feather-light on his skin, just above the ridge of his wrist. 

“I’m glad it was you,” you said. The words were true, but the honesty of them still tasted odd on your tongue, and you fought back a cringe. Jaehyun finally turned to meet your eyes, some semblance of hope, or maybe it was relief that coloured his expression. “And I’m glad we’re here, now,” you added.

You hoped he knew you weren’t talking about the far right corner of Joy’s kitchen.

Jaehyun smiled, and it was like the sun had finally risen up over the stark mountain peak, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. It was the kind of warmth you didn’t realise you craved until the full force of it spilled over you, washing away the blue and the cold. 

“Me too,” he said softly.

Even if you hadn’t fallen victim to Joy’s schemes, you would like to think the two of you would still end up here, only via longer and slightly different routes. Perhaps an unexpected run-in in the lobby on a Tuesday morning, or the eventual and excruciatingly awkward introduction through Joy. Whatever it may have been, you’d like to think you would’ve found your way to each other again eventually. 

Curiosity tickled your mind. “What about you?”

“Hmm?”

He was still smiling, the lines by his nose just visible, and he had his eyes on you, though there was a faraway look about them. Something about his gaze reminded you of the way you’d regard a painting, framed and hung up on a wall in some art museum — carefully examining the details of the brushstrokes against the canvas, yet all the while trying to hold the whole piece in your mind’s eye, and let it touch the surface of that primal emotion somewhere inside of you. The depth of his gaze was enough to make you self-conscious, and you quickly averted your eyes, taking another sip from your glass. It was a good excuse to school your features before you spoke again.

“How did you feel when you saw me? Were you upset?”

Jaehyun regarded his own glass wistfully. “Not exactly upset, no,” he began, though a movement in his peripheral had him trailing off. 

Another of Joy’s guests had appeared, hovering beside the two of you with his eyes set on the bottle of whiskey directly in front of you. Politely, Jaehyun side-stepped away from the counter and wrapped a gentle hand around the bend of your elbow, guiding you out of the hectic buzz of the kitchen. It stayed there, warm and comforting, until you found your way back to the open space of the living room, and even then he was slow to let you go, fingertips lingering a just second too long before they retreated back to his side. 

“I think I was surprised, more than anything,” he continued. “Didn’t really know what to expect, not that I was expecting much. I never even thought I’d get to see you again after university. Thought you were gone for good.”

He paused, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly. The movement was small, and you wondered if you were supposed to have caught it at all.

“You stood there, with your bag in one hand and your cardigan in the other, looking like you were waiting for me to spontaneously combust—”

“Okay, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“—and all I could think about was how you were even prettier than I remembered. And back then I already thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”

At that, you were quiet. Whatever silly rebuttal or attempt to defend yourself died quickly on your tongue as you let his confession settle beneath your skin, warming it from the inside out. Jaehyun was not even one bit fazed, looking like he had just said something trivial about the weather, or stated some objective fact like ‘grass is green’. For him, honesty had never been the heavy, cumbersome challenge it was for you. Judging by the resigned smile on his face, he wasn’t expecting some grand response from you either, which was all the better, because god, what were you supposed to say to something like that?

“Oh, there you are,” came a voice from behind you, followed by a hand on your shoulder. 

Joy’s timing was impeccable, as always.

“Sorry, this one is coming with me,” she said to Jaehyun, looping her arm around yours with half-drunken determination. “Us fifth-floors have some business to settle. With darts.”

Your eyes followed the direction of her outstretched arm, where sure enough, there was a dartboard hanging on the wall by the balcony. Jungwoo was there, standing obediently with his hands crossed in front of his stomach as he politely nodded along to whatever Junmyeon was animatedly saying. The beer bottle Jungwoo cradled, now forgotten, seemed more like an accessory than an actual beverage. He caught your eye and sent you a frantic look.

You whipped your head back to Jaehyun. “Please don’t let her take me.” 

Surely, he could see the pleading, the desperation in your eyes.

Jaehyun, having witnessed the whole exchange between you and Jungwoo, only grinned. “It does sound like some serious business,” he said, cheeks dimpling. Joy made a noise of agreement and gave your arm a little tug.

“You’re more than welcome to come and spectate, Jaehyun,” she called out over her shoulder as she herded you towards her destination. His only response was a hearty laugh. You stared at him in despair as you were towed away by the birthday girl. Next time you’d invite his boss to the function.

The game of darts (or seven games, if you were being precise) was decidedly less awful than you had expected. Junmyeon had promised not to speak about work and by some miracle, actually stuck to his word. Maybe you even got to know the guy a little better, outside of his office habits like the specific order in which he drank his three teas everyday (yuja, then chamomile, and lastly peppermint). Like you, he was somewhat of a wine enthusiast, though his knowledge of French vineyards was far superior to yours. 

By the third round, the game had clearly left your little work circle. Jaehyun joined in at one point, competitiveness getting the better of him. Doyoung tried his hand too, and he was honestly abysmal, but smiled the whole time and seemed to be enjoying himself, even if he had to pick the darts off the floor on every turn. Out of all the players over the course of the seven games, Junmyeon’s date Irene had been the most unexpected hidden card, scoring three bullseyes in a row. 

Oh, to be a goddess and have perfect hand-eye coordination. 

“You feeling okay?” you asked a rather blank-looking Jungwoo. His eyes were beginning to droop, and so was the rest of his body, long limbs sprawled out against the leather. You could swear he only had his initial bottle of beer and the two celebratory soju shots Joy had forced him to take (from which you were not exempt either), and yet here he was, half-asleep on the couch.

“Hmm,” was his eloquent reply.

The party was slowly drawing to a close, the living room much emptier now than it had been when you first walked in. Junmyeon and Irene had made their departure some twenty minutes ago, and there were only a handful of guests left, most of them getting ready to leave as well. Grown adults didn’t gamble with their sleep schedules. 

Doyoung emerged from the hallway, running a hand through the mess of hair on top of his head, already tousled from the fifty or so times he had repeated the action throughout the night.

“Okay, she’s knocked out,” he sighed. On his face, you glimpsed the first sign of relief you had seen all night. “I don’t think she’s going to puke, but I left a bucket by the bed just in case.”

You flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you for tonight. I can’t imagine it was easy having to wrangle all these people for so long.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. As long as Joy’s happy and had a good time.” 

Even though he was clearly exhausted, Doyoung smiled, and the fondness held within it felt like a private thing you shouldn’t have witnessed. Your mind went, now as it always did, to a certain dimpled smile.

“I’d better get this one home,” you said instead, gesturing at Jungwoo slumped on the couch. You turned towards the boy, patting his shoulder gently. “Come on, time to go.”

“Mmffh.” 

Another brilliant and enlightening response.

The owner of your favourite dimpled smile stepped out from the bathroom to the sight of you struggling to get Jungwoo upright enough to loop an arm around your shoulders. The half-asleep boy was lean, but definitely heavier than he looked, or perhaps the few glasses of wine over the course of the night had sapped some of the strength from your body. Jaehyun was at your side in an instant, shouldering most of Jungwoo’s weight as the two of you dragged him to a standing position.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, no room for discussion in his tone. You had no mind to protest anyway. 

Doyoung was already busying himself with clearing plates and glasses from the living area when Jaehyun bid him farewell. The guy seemed to have formulated a detailed plan of attack to get his apartment back to the no-doubt spotless state it had been prior to tonight.

“I sorted out most of the empty bottles so you should be able to just throw them out in the morning,” Jaehyun said over his shoulder. He crouched on the ground, guiding Jungwoo’s disobedient left foot into the correct shoe, carefully doing up the laces once both feet were inside their corresponding sneakers. 

You tossed a glance back at Doyoung whizzing around the place like a Roomba, feeling a pang of guilt for not having done much to help him clean up. Even though you had been a much more gracious and tidy guest than other people in Joy’s company, you couldn’t help but feel like there was more you could’ve done, apart from babysitting a very not-sober Jungwoo and making sure he didn’t crack his head open on the corner of the coffee table. 

“It’s fine,” Jaehyun said softly. You turned to look at him, half-surprised, and he only flashed you a small smile. “Doyoung likes to clean. I think he finds comfort in it.”

He was fluent as ever in your micro-expressions. Maybe one day you’d learn to stop being surprised by it. 

The taxi back to Jungwoo’s place was shorter than you had expected. His head lolled between your shoulder and Jaehyun’s in the backseat, before finally finding a home in Jaehyun’s lap. Even when you finally tucked the younger boy safely into his own bed — after going to great lengths to extract his building code which involved a series of profuse apologies to his neighbours who you had mistakenly rung in the middle of the night — there was an impressive imprint on his right cheek that exactly matched the side seam on Jaehyun’s jeans. You could’ve sworn there was a small, wet patch of drool left behind on the denim, and you were sure Jaehyun himself had noticed it too, but he gave no indication of complaint.

“Are you far from here?” Jaehyun asked once the elevator had brought the both of you back down to Jungwoo’s lobby.

“I’m actually just a fifteen minute walk away,” you answered.

The invitation in your voice was silent, and you knew he would’ve accompanied you home even if you lived on the other side of the city. Still, some achingly pleasant emotion settled over you when you heard his footsteps fall in with yours against the pavement. He took his place between you and the open street, shielding you from the bustle of late night delivery bikes and club bound taxis.

Though the days still resembled summer, nights were when the beginnings of autumn could reveal itself. The slight chill in the air was not unbearable, but still noticeable against your bare arms, and just enough for goosebumps to spring up on the skin there. Before you could even bring your hands up to wrap them around yourself, Jaehyun shrugged off his jacket and wordlessly draped it over your shoulders. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, drawing the collar close around your neck. The stiff denim was a little rough, but warm from his body heat all the same, with faint traces of his woody scent lingering on the fabric.

Jaehyun thrust his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Now you out-Justin-Timberlake me.”

“Still not a real word.”

You supposed there was something about night-time that made it feel all the more forgiving to the emotional afflictions of the human condition. Perhaps it was only against the muted palette of the midnight blue sky and the dimly lit city streets that you felt brave enough to face the truth of your feelings, without agonising over the consequences of acknowledging them. Even so, you found yourself wishing the night would stretch on for just a little longer. Honesty always seemed to wear off faster than it came on.

“You’ve been crazy busy lately.”

Jaehyun’s responding laugh contained little amusement. “Crazy busy is one way to put it. I can’t believe Johnny has had to deal with all of this the whole time. This client is so,” he paused, trying to find the right word, before finally settling on “demanding.” The look in his eyes gave you the feeling there were many other more colourful adjectives he wanted to use instead.

The two of you passed the convenience store corner of your street. Your place was not too far up ahead, the glass building doors almost visible if you squinted. The night was coming to an end, and something cold and heavy settled in your chest to accompany the realisation.

“They want us in New York working on the new client site as soon as possible, so we’ve been running around trying to get visas and everything sorted,” he sighed. 

Your footsteps faltered. 

“You’re going to New York?” you asked. 

He nodded. 

“When?”

“Within the next week, if everything comes back approved.”

You hadn’t even noticed that you had come to a standstill until Jaehyun’s footsteps also slowed to a stop. The both of you stood like that, under the dim glow from the streetlights, in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“We’ll probably be there until the end of the year, at least until the design piece is done,” he said. 

Did your face betray the sudden drop of your stomach? Did the sound of a fissure cracking through your chest escape through the slight parting of your lips?

It was silly, really. That one small piece of information could turn your entire world on its head. International travel on a project wasn’t a rare occurrence. And you supposed you would’ve found out sooner or later, even if he hadn’t told you, because he had no obligation to update you about every development in his life, even if they involved crossing continents. Even if you wanted to know every little detail. 

Jaehyun’s eyes moved from his shoes to your face. The shadows cast by the streetlights made it hard to decipher his expression, but you thought there was a pleading look to his handsome face. What he was pleading for, you weren’t entirely sure. 

You cleared your throat and finally found your voice again. “That’s really exciting, Jaehyun,” you managed, trying to keep your tone light. “I hear New York is gorgeous this time of year.”

The smile you pasted on your face was a flimsy one, and you could feel your top lip begin to tremble when he didn’t quite return it. Before it could turn into a grimace, you let the corners of your mouth fall. There had never been any use in putting on an act in front of him. Unsure what else to say without sounding insincere — though you were excited for him, truly, this little fit of sadness was a silly thing that would pass surely and quickly — you turned and resumed your steps towards your apartment. 

Another few minutes and you’d be in the safety of your own home. Free to let your top lip tremble and quiver, and let the inexplicable lump in your throat force its way out, rather than try to swallow it down.

It only took a few steps for you to realise that Jaehyun had not followed. You looked over your shoulder to find him standing there by the streetlight, eyes fixed on the ground again. 

“I don’t want to go,” he said, toeing at a crack in the concrete. “If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t. I don’t want to leave…”

You.

He may not have said that last word, but you heard it all the same. Your chest squeezed with emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“But you have to,” you said softly. A gentle breeze blew through the early autumn air and you briefly wondered if your words had been carried adrift.

He looked up at you then, eyes burning into yours with unspoken sentiments. A thousand words were conveyed with that one look, those few seconds in which you understood everything he wanted to say, and nothing he wanted to say, because he hadn’t said much at all. Just like how he could read your emotions with a simple glance at your face, you saw his reluctance. You saw the irresolution in his resolve, and how it wavered as he turned over in his mind the things he wanted to say to you, and how much of his heart he was willing to risk. 

“But I have to,” he agreed. 

Jaehyun still knew you inside out, yes, but you knew him too.

Your feet dragged over the last few hundred metres to your apartment complex, until you finally reached the door and there was nothing left you could do to delay the inevitable.

“Here,” you said, handing his jacket back to him. “Thank you for walking me home.”

He took it from your outstretched hand, fingers just brushing your knuckles. “Of course.”

And maybe Jaehyun was just as unwilling to let you go. His feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete pavement in front of your building, even though you were pretty sure no harm would befall you across the five steps into the lobby. The two of you stood there for a while, neither quite knowing what to say, or how to ward off the odd melancholy you knew he felt too.

There were so few guarantees of forever in life. You knew that. And even if you had never really gotten him back in the first place, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing him again. Except this time, he wouldn’t just be a 67-minute subway ride away. This time, he’d be a 14-hour flight away, on the other side of not the city but the world, with 7,000 miles and the entire Pacific Ocean separating you. 

And yes, he’d come back eventually, but who could promise that the feelings between the two of you now would be the same upon his return? You knew that you were in no position to demand he refrain from exploring other romantic pursuits, to deter him from making new connections in the diverse metropolis that was New York City, and all the excitement and energy that came with it. 

You had unknowingly gotten in the way of that once.

“Well, I’d better get inside,” you said quietly, gesturing at the building behind you. Jaehyun only nodded.

This was it. All things must come to an end, you thought as you walked up to the lobby door. Even if they never really started. Perhaps you and your hesitance to let him in had played the biggest part of all, and whatever it was between you and Jaehyun wouldn’t be ending before it began if you had only been more forgiving at the start. Less pointy and disagreeable. Perhaps then you would be parting now on more certain terms, and you’d carry some peace of mind knowing he’d be coming back to you, instead of the crushing weight of disappointment currently lodged underneath your sternum.

And yet, what difference did it make? You’d be losing him anyway, no matter what you did. In two weeks’ time, he’d be sitting in a conference room on a different continent, regardless of whether you said nothing or cussed him out to his face right now.

Your hand froze on the steel handle for only a second before you turned around to face him again. Three determined strides was all it took to close the distance between you. 

“What is it?” he asked.

There had been few occasions where you had seen Jaehyun drunk, or at least not sober, in the years you had known him. Your split early on in university had not afforded you many chances to witness his supposedly high tolerance in action at weekend benders. Nothing more than a few underage sips snuck from his dad’s glass at the dinner table. You took a second now to look at him, really look at him, taking in all the details of the face you knew almost as well as your own. 

Pink. Everything about him was so pink, from the slight tinge around the whites of his eyes, to the lingering flush in the apples of his cheeks.

To the pretty colour of his soft, full lips. 

They parted with confusion when you approached. Carefully, you reached out a hand and placed it against his cheek, feeling the way he leaned into your touch almost immediately. His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of moments before they were searching your face again, almost fervently. 

“I just…” you whispered, trying to commit this picture of him to memory. 

What difference did it make?

It was hard to tell who moved first. You’d like to believe it didn’t matter.

The rhythm of your lips against his was unfamiliar at first, clumsy from years of disuse. Through slow and careful movements, you reacquainted yourself with the shape of Jaehyun’s mouth, the pillowy swell of his bottom lip as it gently slid in between your own. It fit there perfectly, like it always did. His hands came up to graze the curve of your waist, resting lightly on your skin as if he was afraid you’d crumble like sand in his grasp. 

You tilted your head, parting your mouth ever so slightly to let the tip of your tongue brush against the underside of his top lip. The kiss changed immediately. You felt his surprise in the small puff of air that escaped through his nose and landed softly against your cheek. His fingers gripped at you with a newfound strength, pulling you flush against him. Even through the fabric of your shirts, the outline of his toned chest was unmistakable. Your hands found their home in the softness of hair at the nape of his neck, revelling in the throaty sound that left him as you ran your hands through it. 

How had you denied yourself of this for so long?

Jaehyun must have pulled away first, because suddenly you could breathe again, shaky gasps coming in and out through your mouth. He fared no better, pressing his forehead gently against yours while he tried to catch his breath.

You couldn’t think. You felt electrified, as if every nerve ending in your body was simultaneously firing, as if your blood was laced with dynamite. Hell, you had half a mind to invite him up to your room and finish off what you had so brazenly started.

“It’s late,” he finally managed, voice rough. “You should head in.” His hands, however, stayed firmly in place around your waist. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each swallow.

Right. Perhaps it was best to let the night end here, before you could do anything else that you might regret. 

“Yeah, I should probably,” you murmured, catching the way his eyes followed each movement of your mouth as you spoke. The sound of your voice seemed to break the daze he was in, and you felt his grip on you loosen, slowly and reluctantly. The arms you had looped around his neck made their way back to your sides. You were released from his warmth far too quickly.

Impulsive decisions (like inviting your ex-boyfriend to spend the night in your one-bedroom apartment with nowhere to sleep except in your bed) seldom ended well. You should’ve known better than to make those rookie mistakes.

You had barely turned around to walk up to your building doors when Jaehyun wrapped a warm hand around your wrist and pulled you back into him. He pressed his lips to yours, swallowing the small noise of surprise that left your mouth. This time, his kiss was softer, surer, and in it you tasted the sweetness of unspoken promises he was determined to keep. 

“I’ll see you when I get back,” he said, dark eyes fixed on you with conviction. Your lip colour had smudged by the side of his mouth, leaving behind a faint pink stain that only added to the pretty hue of his now kiss-swollen lips. 

He was still the most gorgeous person you had ever seen. 

“See you when you’re back, then,” you echoed. 

Some odd emotion, neither happy nor sad, settled in your chest as you pushed open the door to the emptiness of your home. You had rushed to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun before he left, only to find he had gone already, and the sidewalk outside your building was as vacant as to be expected for this hour of the night.

No matter. You’d wait for him to come back. 

“One more prosecco before he disappears to the bathroom for the rest of the night.”

You cast a glance at the catering table and clicked your tongue against your teeth.

“Half a prosecco,” you concluded, taking a sip from your own glass. 

Joy raised a shapely eyebrow at you. “You know it doesn’t hit until at least twenty minutes after he gets the munchies.”

“True, but he specifically told me he skipped lunch today so it would hit earlier, and he’d have the energy to mingle.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “I guess that’d do it.”

The two of you turned your gazes back to the catering table, where Jungwoo was doing some serious damage to the salmon ceviche tostadas. The glass in his hand was empty, and you watched as he asked for a refill from one of the waitstaff.

“Someone should really stop him,” Joy sighed. “Before we get a repeat of last year.”

“Someone should,” you agreed.

Neither of you made a move.

As far as year-end wrap-up events went, this one wasn’t too bad, even if it was your first at the company. This year, HR had managed to book one of the smaller function rooms at an upscale hotel, with an open bar and hors d’oeuvres menu to match. It was a nice chance to celebrate the year’s achievements, and get to know the other people in the department a little better. Already a year in this place, and you’d be lying if you said you knew the name of every person on your floor.

September to November had flown by in a blur. Recruitment for the company’s graduate program next year had been an intensive few months of screening, interviewing, reviewing, and then interviewing again. As hectic as it had been, the fruits of your team’s efforts had been warmly recognised with smiles and praises from the senior managers and higher-ups you’d had the chance to speak with tonight. 

Traditionally, each department hosted their own event, though from what you gathered, HR and Marketing were the only ones that put in any real effort. While HR liked to keep things classy, Marketing liked to go all out.

“Do you think it’s true that Marketing rented out a yacht this year?” you asked. Surely their budget wasn’t that excessive.

Joy made a face. “God, I hope not. It’s the middle of December. I’d be surprised if the Han River wasn’t all frozen over.”

Winter had come early this year, sinking its cold fingers into November and staking its claim. Yet, there had been no snow, even though it was only a few days out from the holidays. Though it was nice that your clothes stayed relatively dry all day from the lack of precipitation, you couldn’t help but miss the sight of the city covered in a blanket of white softness. 

“There he goes,” Joy said, nudging your arm. You turned to see Jungwoo excuse himself from the conversation, setting down a barely-touched glass on the tablecloth. He made a beeline for the men’s restrooms, or as close to a beeline as he could manage in his current state, face flushed and a little queasy.

It was a good thing the company’s holiday closure started tomorrow.

“Okay, you win. Want to come and get a refill with me?” she asked. “We can say hi to a few of the directors over there.”

The thought of having to network with more seniors, when you had already spent the last hour and a half donning bright smiles and laughing politely at their lacklustre jokes, was not a pleasant one. You knew it would be a good thing for you to go and introduce yourself, but your battery for social interaction had long since been depleted. Perhaps you should’ve taken a page out of Jungwoo’s book.

Still, you flashed Joy a grateful smile. “You go ahead. I might grab some air, actually.”

“Okay,” she replied, eyes warm with understanding. “But make sure you put your coat on. It’s freezing out there.”

She was right, of course. The toasty interior of the function room was a completely different world from the frigid gust of wind that greeted you as soon as you pulled the sliding door open. An upscale hotel needed to have a matching upscale view of the city. You leaned against the balcony railing, blocking out the icy sting of the metal against your hands, and took in the sight of the not-quite-frozen Han River below, and the sparkling Seoul Tower further away on the skyline.

You’d only be out here for a little bit, you told yourself. Just a few minutes, and then you’d head home.

Truthfully, you could have left half an hour ago when your reserves for socialising had just run out, and be within the warm and familiar confines of your own bed right now, doom-scrolling to your heart’s content. But these days, the solitude of your apartment that you had once found comforting had evolved into a loneliness that you’d rather avoid. 

The empty echoes of your own footsteps across the tiled floors didn’t bounce against the walls like deep laughter did.

Absent-mindedly, you thumbed at the pendant sitting at the hollow of your throat. You had turned your jewellery box inside out, almost fully convinced that you had lost the thing entirely until you finally spotted the milky pearl set in white gold, underneath all the other chains. It was gorgeous when you had first opened the velvet box all those years ago, and it still was now, even if you hadn’t seen it for quite some time. Jaehyun always had an eye for beautiful things.

You weren’t the only one who endured a few packed and chaotic months. Johnny’s team had flown out of the country the Wednesday after Joy’s birthday and had been sequestered in New York ever since. Between your swamped schedules and the 14 hour time difference, conversations with Jaehyun were intermittent at best, and sparse and uncoordinated at worst. Sometimes he’d message with silly little things, like the time he sent you a picture of a doll sitting in the window of an antique shop.

this reminded me of you, the accompanying text had said.

He was due back soon, and there was still much left to be said, but above all, you only hoped that he was well, and that the New York winter was much more forgiving than it was here at home.

The cloudy wisps of air formed by your breath floated upwards before they dissipated into the night sky. No wonder the balcony was empty — who would want to be out here when there were mozzarella stuffed mushrooms and central heating on the other side of the glass?

You heard the doors slide open behind you as someone else equally as crazy decided to step out into the cold. Just as well. It was time for you to head back anyways. You turned to make your way inside, only to freeze in your tracks.

“They told me I’d find you out here. You really know how to pick a spot, huh?”

A soft gasp left your mouth.

“Jaehyun?”

He gave you a smile, your favourite smile, where his dimples were only just visible, and there was the hint of a pout to the shape of his lips. He was here, and he was in front of you, looking at you like you were the most wonderful thing in the world that he would ever have the good fortune of knowing. Your chest swelled almost painfully at the sight of him.

“When did you get back? How did you even get in here?”

“We landed in Incheon earlier this afternoon. I had to pay the door guy outside a hundred bucks for him to let me in.”

Your eyes widened. “He can’t make you do that!”

“Just kidding,” Jaehyun chuckled. “I only had to show him my company ID.”

He walked over to where you stood by the railing and rested his arms against the metal. His profile was sharp against the darkness of the night sky, and you took a moment to study the details while he took in the view. 

“Are you tired?” you asked. “It can’t be easy adjusting to the time difference.”

“A little,” he admitted. The bags under his eyes were dark and purple now that you could see his face up close. He must have been exhausted. Nobody ever slept well on long haul flights. “You should see Johnny though. He would have come tonight, but jet lag is seriously kicking his ass.”

You shared a laugh, traces of your breaths mingling in the air. Beside him, you settled back into your original spot, mirroring the way he leaned against the metal railing. Jaehyun was close, but not too close, your elbows only a few centimetres apart. A mellow silence settled over the balcony as you gazed out at the river, watching the never-ending stream of cars as they circled the waterfront. 

With even this, you were content. His mere presence next to you was a remedy in itself, regardless of the words shared or touches exchanged. You felt more at home in this moment now than you had in over 3 months.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, still gazing out into the distance. The gravity in his voice hinted at circumstances beyond the recent season he had spent on the other side of the world. And yet, he had said it so simply, as if the words were an immovable truth that would withstand the corrosion of time.

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied.

Maybe it was just that simple, because it was the truth. The nights weathered away in your own apartment were only lonely because there had been an absence of him, an absence that was known to you, even if you had not felt it for many years.

He turned to you, taking in a shaky breath. “I should never have let you go.”

“Oh, Jaehyun—”

“I was young, and foolish, and I thought I knew what I wanted. And I had you, but I thought I wanted more, because I wanted everything. I wanted the whole damn world.”

Something sharp pricked behind your eyes as you listened to the honesty pouring out of him.

“And then I lost you, and it was—god, it was… like someone had sucked all the colour out of my life. And I had no one to blame, because I was the one who did that to myself. To us.”

It was so hard to not notice the pain etched into his beautiful features. The tight set of his jaw. The redness that rimmed his eyes. Your fingers ached to reach over and smooth out the crease between his brows.

“There were so many things I could have done to make things right between us again. Even if you wouldn’t have me back. But my pride, and my ego… I did nothing—”

“You can’t pin it all on yourself, Jaehyun,” you said, shaking your head. “I had no idea what I wanted. And even when I did, I never acted—I never stood up for myself. I could’ve fought for us, but I didn’t. I just accepted everything. Hell, I never even told you how I felt.”

You flashed him a watery smile. “We needed the time away from each other, don’t you think?” 

There was a moment where the two of you simply stared at each other. A hurricane of repressed emotions swirled in your chest, finally breaking the surface five years on. Jaehyun must have felt the same, reliving all those memories now. You could see it on his face.

Youth was so beautiful, and precious — even the heartbreak, and all the other foolish things that came along with it. 

“I let you go once, and maybe that was meant to happen.” He took a step closer. “But we’re not dumb teenagers anymore. I’m not… I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

His eyes locked on yours as he gazed at you with reverence. “Don’t you still feel the same? Even after all these years?”

I do, you wanted to say. 

You would have too, if it weren’t for the small speck of white that landed in Jaehyun’s dark hair. It was visible for only a few seconds before melting away. You looked up and sure enough, the night sky was dotted with white.

“First snow,” you breathed, watching as the snowflakes fell from the sky. “Do you know what that means?”

Jaehyun gave you a small shake of his head. Of course. He never believed in superstitions.

You reached for his hand, feeling his fingers respond to yours immediately. He was so warm, and his touch breathed life back into your frozen body.

“If you see the first snow with someone you love, it means that your love will be true and long-lasting.”

A few seconds passed as he took in your words, trying to make sense of them.

“You… love me?”

“I do,” you admitted. A teardrop finally spilled out from your waterline, leaving behind a wet track on your cheek that stung in the cold. “Even when I thought I hated you, deep down, I think I still loved you.”

One of his hands came up to wipe away the trail of moisture from the escaped tear. The action sent a shiver through your entire body.

“I never stopped loving you,” he confessed softly, stroking your cheek. You felt it then, that deep, aching feeling that had threaded itself into the very marrow of your bones. 

Longing. You longed for his presence, his smile, his touch. You longed to hold his heart in your hands again, and give him yours in exchange. You had missed him more than you could bear, and here he was, telling you his heart was where it had always been, sitting in the centre of your palm. 

Perfect moments didn’t exist, but damn did this one come close.

“Come here,” Jaehyun whispered, pulling you into him. 

His mouth was just as sweet as you remembered. His lips were a little rougher, slightly chapped from the cold. His kiss was slow and patient, taking his time to explore the shape of your mouth and mould to it again. You felt his smile, the slight tension in his bottom lip giving him away, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate, a quiet giggle bubbling in your chest before escaping through your lips. 

“I really fucking missed you,” you mumbled against his mouth, another giggle accompanying the words. “You kissed me and then you were on a plane to the other side of the world.” 

“I told you I’d see you when I was back, didn’t I?” he reminded, giving your waist a small squeeze. “And for the record, you kissed me. Not that it matters.”

You swatted a hand against his chest. “I see you still care too much about technicalities.”

Jaehyun only laughed, that deep and familiar sound you had craved to hear for the last 3 months. He pulled your hands into his warm ones, and pressed his lips to your knuckles. 

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around yours. 

“Well, I was about to head back inside when you found me. It’s nice and toasty in there.”

“Do you want to go in now?”

You looped your arms around his neck and buried your head into the crook of it. “Let’s just stay out here for a little bit longer,” you said, words muffled by the fabric of his coat. “You always run hot in the colder months anyways. Enough to keep me warm.”

He hummed in agreement, holding you flush against him as the snow fell around you. In his arms, you were the most at ease you had been in years, and the thought was almost enough to bring a fresh new wave of moisture to your eyes. 

“What is that—something’s digging in,” he suddenly said, pulling away from you. His eyes landed on the pendant that had slipped out from underneath the lapels of your coat. Wordlessly, he reached for it, running his thumb across the pale pearl that hung from your neck. 

“You kept this?” 

“Of course,” you answered. “You kept yours.”

He smiled, a big one, dimples marking his cheeks. “Of course,” he repeated. 

“We’re lucky, aren’t we? To have found each other again after all this time?”

Jaehyun’s reply took the form of another sweet and unhurried kiss. It warmed you from the inside out, all the way down to the tips of your toes.

“So we’re really doing this, right?” he asked. “We’re giving us a second chance?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you said all that earlier just for shits and giggles?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled, squeezing your sides again. “I just wanted to make sure. I think I might lose faith in the world if you tell me you don’t want to be with me.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” you reassured. The snow was sticking to his hair, and you took a second to run your hands through it, brushing off the half-melted pieces. His eyes fondly followed your every movement.

“Good, because I plan on keeping you for a long time.”

You returned inside shortly after. The snow had picked up and it was clear that you couldn’t stay out for much longer (unless you wanted hypothermia, which neither of you did). The function hall was much emptier now than it had been when you stepped out, and of the remaining faces, none of them were familiar. 

A quick glance at your phone showed a few unread messages from Joy. 

joy [08:32 pm]: hey, had to leave, doyoung’s still working tomorrow so it’s an early night for me joy [08:33 pm]: hope you and jaehyun work things out joy [08:33 pm]: i’m rooting for you guys!!

joy [08:37 pm]: also can you see if jungwoo is okay joy [08:38 pm]: i don’t think he’s come out yet

“Can I ask a favour, just before we go?”

Jaehyun smiled back at you sweetly, devotion written in his eyes. “Anything.”

“Pop into the men’s room and check if Jungwoo’s still alive?”

Life was a funny thing. 

“There are so few things in life that are guaranteed. Death, for one, and taxes, for another. Sorry if that was a bit dark and killed the mood. You can laugh, by the way. But I think everyone here would agree, neither of those two are all that conducive to happiness.”

Roundabout. 

“So when the girl you’ve been chasing, for what feels like an eternity, finally gives you a second chance, you absolutely cannot take it for granted. You grab onto that chance with both hands, and even your teeth if you have to. It’s no guarantee for happiness, but it’s your best bet.”

Unpredictable. 

“I’m not a God-fearing man, but I’m a God-believing man. I thank God everyday for bringing such a magnificent woman into my life.”

He raised his glass. 

“Joy, you make me the happiest person in the world, and I can’t wait to be married to you.”

The crowd broke into warm applause as Doyoung finished off his impromptu speech by planting a kiss on his bride-to-be.

“He’s so good at talking,” you mused, wrapping your arm around Jaehyun’s. “If that’s his toast for this, I wonder what his vows will be like.”

A year ago, you would never have believed that you’d be attending your co-worker’s engagement party, much less with your ex-boyfriend who you hadn’t seen in 5 years. Spring had well and truly arrived, and with it came promises of love and new beginnings. The last rays of the April afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows of the riverside art centre. The venue was gorgeous, floating on the edge of the river with unobstructed views of the skyline and where it met the water — as always, Joy knew how to pick a spot.

“I didn’t know she rejected him before they got together. He must have really liked her.”

Jaehyun gave you a crooked smile. “Four years of university, and he never gave up. Even when she started dating that blockhead from liberal arts.”

“I bet he would’ve felt like the luckiest guy in the world when she finally said yes to a date,” you said, watching as the happy couple shared a moment, giggling about something nobody else was privy to. Jaehyun followed your gaze and made a small noise of agreement.

“Not as lucky as I am to have found you again.”

He ran his thumb across your knuckles. You could’ve sworn there was stardust sprinkled into those pretty brown eyes of his.

Life was a funny thing, for sure. It had a funny way of bringing back things you once thought you had lost forever. You knew now that you had to seize them before they passed by. Who knew if they’d ever turn up again?

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Jungwoo set his glass down on the table with a loud thunk, lightly startling you.

“I’m right here. You guys know that, right? I am right in front of you.”

A sheepish smile was thrown his way. “Sorry.” You patted his hand once, softly. “Your time will come, I’m sure of it,” you reassured. “How did the date with the KU Business girl go?”

“I flaked,” Jungwoo said simply.

“No! Why?”

He sighed. “Blind dates are really not my thing. It’s too awkward. And it feels so superficial. Like, what if you have nothing in common, or there’s no physical attraction, or—” 

Jungwoo paused, cutting himself off. “Actually, I’m not talking about this with you people. I’m going to get another drink.” With that, he turned and headed straight for the cocktail bar. You and Jaehyun gazed at him from behind as he walked off.

“I’m gonna be babysitting him again tonight, aren’t I?” Jaehyun asked, the question directed at nobody in particular.

“People are going to start wondering if you’re dating me or him.”

His mouth curled into a smirk. “Should I give them a reminder?”

“My boss is standing right over there, so no.”

Junmyeon and Irene were still going steady, to your surprise. You’d probably be seeing more and more of him, since Joy and the rest of the Parks genuinely treated Irene like one of their own. The thought wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, but not awful either. Maybe you were warming up to him.

“Also, you should probably be careful about who you call blockhead,” you said to Jaehyun, holding back a smile.

He fixed you with a suspicious stare. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” you trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his head. The smile broke through, your cheeks lifting as you tried to keep the laughter from coming out. He, on the other hand, was thoroughly unimpressed.

“You should really watch your mouth,” he said lowly, though he was smiling. There was a look in his eyes that sent a jolt straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Or what?”

His hands were all over you before you even made it through the door.

“My beautiful, gorgeous, sexy girlfriend,” he mumbled, peppering your neck with kisses between each adjective. The keypad finally beeped and you pushed down on the handle, letting the door swing open as you pulled him in by the collar.

“Stop talking and just kiss me,” you sighed, dragging his face back up to yours. He was all too eager to comply, mouth slotting over yours with practised ease. His tongue brushed along yours in the way he knew you liked, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure. Fire licked at your insides as he drew a light moan from you.

Four months in, the second time around, and everything with Jaehyun was still electrifying.  

Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, finally succeeding with undoing the top one after a few tries. Hands came up around the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto his kitchen countertop. The marble was cool to the touch, and you felt it through the silk of your dress, a soft gasp of surprise flying from your mouth into his awaiting one.

“Been wanting to do this all day, ever since you put this thing on,” Jaehyun rasped. The heat of his body radiated into you from where he stood between your parted legs. He was so warm up against you, and he smelled so good, you were positively light-headed with desire.

His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through you. “You look so fucking good,” he said, teeth gently grazing the skin of your neck. “My pretty girl.” The quick press of his hips into yours pulled another moan out of you, and you braced a hand against the marble countertop.

Your fingers knocked against the edge of something sharp and sent it tumbling to the floor, where it landed with a heavier thud than you were expecting.

“What was that?” you forced out in between gasps. Jaehyun’s teeth nipped at your collarbone, showing no signs of letting up. “Wait, Jae, something fell on the floor.”

You had smashed a mug in your apartment in the midst of it once. Better safe than sorry.

Reluctantly, Jaehyun detached himself from you and bent down to retrieve the fallen item. He was breathing hard as he picked up a thick, padded envelope, and flipped it over to read the details.

“Photos,” he finally managed, tossing the package back onto the counter. “We can look at them later.”

His mouth was on you again, working at the spot between your neck and shoulder that always had your knees weak and toes curling. 

“Wait,” you giggled, “my film photos? I want to see.” He had sent the camera off almost two weeks ago, and you had been (im)patiently waiting for the developed pictures to be sent back. 

Jaehyun looked up at you with hooded eyes. “Really? You want to look at them now?”

You nodded. 

A beat passed before his face broke into a lazy smile. 

“Okay,” he chuckled softly, reaching for the envelope again. 

There was a good stack in there. The ones on top were more recent, with a few shots from his birthday that had recently passed. You had taken him ice skating at the outdoor rink atop Namsan Mountain. The twinkling lights that hung from the trees surrounding the rink were still beautiful, even through photos. Jaehyun was good at so many things that it was unfair — how could he be so talented and have a face like that? — but on that day, you discovered that ice skating was not one of his strengths, and the bruises on his tailbone could attest to that. 

“The colouring on these is really nice,” you murmured, flicking through the photos.

He hummed. “They are. This place doesn’t over-saturate the images, which is why I like them.”

A few more pictures from Christmas, where the two of you had set up a pillow fort — it had always been a childhood dream of yours — and stayed in watching movies for three whole days because it was too cold to do anything that required leaving the house. Funnily enough though, you had spent New Year’s Eve out in the cold with a few thousand others, waiting for the annual fireworks. There were a few shots of those as well. 

You neared the bottom of the stack, recognising the blur of colours that formed the crowd of the jazz festival from last year.

“All of these are out of focus,” you complained, a pout adorning your lips. The shots of the stage, of the artists, even the one of Jaehyun and the cute face he made trying to fit the burger in his mouth. Only the two pictures of you were crisply defined, because he had taken them. 

You flipped to the last photo. It was the one you took at the end of the show, during the closing bars of Lauv’s set. Miraculously, this one was in focus. You could see the press of your cheek against Jaehyun’s, and the slight surprise in his eyes as you had clicked the shutter. Lauv was nowhere to be seen, but maybe a clear shot of him as well would have been asking for too much. 

“Can I say something cheesy?” Jaehyun asked softly. 

“You’ll say it anyway.”

“I really wanted to kiss you. On this day.”

Strange, that it was these words which brought heat to your cheeks. Surely there were other things that would be more appropriate to blush about, instead of a months-late admission that was degrees more innocent than your current situation, where Jaehyun’s shirt was half undone, and the fabric of your dress was bunched up around your hips. 

“I wanted to kiss you right there, in the crowd. And then I wanted to kiss you again, here, when you made that stupid ramen joke. And when you had that chilli flake stuck on the corner of your mouth.”

You set the last photo down on the counter and turned back to Jaehyun, who was still standing between your knees. 

“And how about now?” you asked, the corners of your mouth lifting in a teasing smile. 

He cradled your chin, tilting your face towards his, and let the pad of his thumb brush over the swell of your bottom lip. 

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

The crescent moon was high and luminescent in the sky when you caught your breath again, the last few waves of euphoria ebbing away through your body. Jaehyun always indulged you.

Maybe a little too much. 

You turned to him, nestling your face into the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of soap and his skin. A finger lazily traced over the ridges of his stomach. 

“That tickles,” he mumbled into your hair. It must’ve still been damp from the shower, but he didn’t seem to mind. Fatigue was already tugging away at him. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked softly, looking up at him. 

He shook his head, just slightly. “I like knowing you’re there.”

You resumed your movements, but it was only a few seconds before Jaehyun was shifting, soft laughs filling the intimate space of his bedroom.  

“That really does tickle,” he said, smile threaded into his voice. One of his hands reached for yours, pulling it up to rest against his chest. The gentle press of his lips on your forehead was a delicate thing. 

You fell asleep like that, feeling the steady beat of his heart, quiet and sure beneath your fingertips. It was warm in his hold, and safe. There was no other home you needed to know.

[bunny-jpeg]

ugly guys

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, teammates au, driver!reader, doggy style, (non-con) filming/recording, jealousy, (semi)dark fic, mad!max, long fic,

a/n: happy, happy, happy birthday to yooooou!!

max could usually keep his expressions to himself. he knew how to play a good poker face for the media, but when he saw your ugly boyfriend on the track, he could barely keep it to himself.

you were the first female formula one driver in decades and you picked the ugliest guy to date. not that max was the image of a greek god, but you could do better. it didn't help that when he went to shake max's hand, his palms were painfully sweaty and the guy looked like he was going to have a panic attack when he saw max.

"to each their own." max tried to say to himself. as if he hadn't been harbouring feelings for you for what felt like a lifetime.

so imagine max's complete shock when he found out this ugly guy fumbled you so badly that you ended up in max's hotel room the next night with tears in your eyes.

max handed you another tissue as he sat on the other end of the couch. he then rested against the arm of the couch and asked, "so what exactly happened? all i heard was that you two weren't together anymore and you didn't want to be alone."

you sniffed, "i didn't know who else to call. all my friends are back home or in monaco." you wiped your eyes, earlier you took all your make-up off by evidence of the wipes all over the bathroom counter.

max shrugged, "well, glad i could help." in all fairness, he was glad that your boyfriend (not ex-boyfriend) was out of the picture. hated the guy and not because he looked like the personification of a dumpster. he was getting in max's way.

you leaned against the couch and pouted at him, your arms crossed. you ordered pizza for the both of you, not caring about the diet you were both on. you wanted something greasy and filling and a salad wasn't going to cut that. you explained a little calmer, "he... he called me annoying, he said that when we talked i changed the subject too many times. he said the 'vibes' were off." you gave air quotations, "i tried to forgive him last month when my friend found him on tinder." you sighed, "but... i guess i wasn't good enough. feels like i'm never good enough."

max replied, "i think it's because you give these guys a false sense of confidence. you give these greasy losers an ego boost because they gets to be with you and they go off and think that they're all that. what did this guy do for a living anyway."

"he worked at the gift shop at the circuits of america..." you looked away.

he knew you refused to go on apps like raya, even if it would be easier for you. max thought you liked scrapping the bottom of the barrel and expecting gold.

he pinched the bridge of his nose, "you were flying out and fucking a guy who worked at a gift shop!" he sighed, "i know you want a real, nice guy. but, you're inflating their egos!"

you looked down, "he seemed nice at first."

max couldn't be mad at you. he really couldn't. it wasn't your fault. these guys always put on a show for you, and then when you got too close, the trap came down and you always limped back to max with tears in your eyes. he reached over and sighed as he wiped your tears with his thumbs, "you need standards."

you slumped your shoulders, "i have standards."

"what are they?"

you made a face, "nice. considerate."

"you know you can train a dog to be nice. it's not a very high bar. you are the third ranked driver in the world and all you want is nice. considerate." without thinking he added, "maybe i should date you and show you how to be properly treated."

you stilled for a moment, your eyes wide at max. you said, "don't say things you don't mean." from your expression he could tell you were getting heated in the face.

oh... oh.

he let go of you to move the pizza box out of the way, he was soon crowded in your space with your back against the arm of the couch. "does someone like me?" he watched you swallowed. you had been max's teammate for two years now, after perez retired.

"i never said that." you looked away, but max took you by the face to look at him. something in his blue eyes should've alarmed you, but instead you melted a little into his touch.

"you didn't need to say anything. i could see it in your face." he smiled, "did you date all those greasy-haired, directionless losers to make me jealous?" if he were a worse man, that would've been an ego boost.

"i did like them."

"but you liked me more."

there was a beat of silence between you two before you sighed. you admitted, "yes... i tried to date guys who weren't you, so i'd forget about my... feelings for you." you swallowed.

max found it endearing. if he had known sooner, he would've easily swept you off your feet and made sure no other man got in his way. so without much of a second thought, he kissed you. it was passionate and the result of over two years of wanting you. needing you. the kisses continued until the pizza was long forgotten and you were on max's hotel bed.

you bounced a little when he pushed you onto it. some of your belongings were in his room as you were going to stay the night. his hands under your shirt.

"i've thought about this often." he said, "i wonder if any of those guys ever made you feel good. or were you wishing it was me." he whispered in your ear, "did you think about me when they failed to make you cum?"

you swallowed, "the last guy..." you admitted, "his cock was really small and he didn't know where the clit was." and blushed more when max looked at you in shock.

he laughed, "and he's going on tinder and acting like a prick! cheating on you and calling you annoying! he broke things off with you and you were suffering with piss-poor sex. c'mon. you need standards." he pushed your shirt off of you, "you need me."

call max verstappen a possessive man. he'd chalk it up to his childhood and the constant feeling of inadequacy. being knocked around a few times in the head probably scarred him. but, he was happy that he could finally lay claim on you.

he got you undressed and did the same to himself. you both had seen each other naked a few times. it was the price of being in close proximity for most of the year. walking into driver's rooms without knocking, that time you asked him if this bra looked alright, the other time you had to hold his hand while he got that small tattoo on his hip (that not even the other drivers knew about). you two knew each other more intimately than most, if not everyone.

so it only made sense that max felt you up while you laid under him. with promises on his tongue as he kissed your collarbones, "i'm gonna make you feel good. i promise." he his cock was sticky and heavy. he needed you asap.

you got on your hands and knees with your hips arched to the perfect angle for him. in the bright lights of the bedroom, he could see your wetness cling to your pussy lips. this was what your ex-boyfriend left? this! max assumed the man needed his head checked, but now he was certain he needed to be locked up somewhere.

only an idiot would mess up their chances with you.

he rubbed his hard cock against your click cunt. he said, "might be a bit of a stretch. i'm guessing i'm about double the size of him."

"he was three inches." you replied, "i measured after he lied to me and said he was five." you felt embarrassed, "i can't believe i gave this guy a chance! more than one chance!"

max tried not to laugh, he didn't want you thinking he was insulting you. but max was close to seven inches, well beyond double what your ex-boyfriend was packing. and maybe it was rude of him to think so, but it made his confidence a little higher.

when he sank his cock into you, you buried your face into the pillows and arched your back. your nails dug into the fabric. the whole floor didn't need to know you two were fucking.

not that max cared, let them hear. let them know.

the idea only came to him when he started to thrust up against you. he watched your ass shake with every hard thrust of his hips. he soon had you bouncing on his length. his size buried in your just right, at least he knew where your clit was. and the thought of it against his tongue later left him more excited.

there was so much for him to try on you. missionary would be rarely on the table. max wanted to devour you like a fine meal. but you'd always get your fair share of orgasms. can't have his girl go without.

however the thought crossed his mind and as he thrusted into you. he grabbed his phone and started to record. he changed his pace a little, harder thrusts that were a little slower. really get his cock comfortable inside of you.

he pressed against areas that had you moaning louder. all picked up on the camera. he asked, "do you like that, baby? do you like how it all feels?"

you whimpered. you weren't aware he was filming, instead just doing dirty talk to make you pant and whine. you replied, "it feels good, max. ah!"

max smiled, as the camera caught the sight of his cock going in and out of you. his cock sticky with your wetness. even a ring of milky white around the base from how good he made you feel. he wanted to speak directly to your asshole of an ex-boyfriend. he wanted to know that he'd always be less than. less than max verstappen.

"better than with anyone else." he couldn't give away that he was filming you. even with the camera directed at your pussy taking all of him so nicely.

you nodded.

"use your words, i want to hear you." he said with a bit of cockiness in his tone, "i want to know how to make you feel." c'mon, tell your dickhead of an ex how good your own teammate made you feel. tell max everything.

"shit, max. please. no one has ever fucked me like this before." you held onto the pillow a little tighter. the rush was to your head, you couldn't believe it. it was even a little better than when you pleasured yourself.

"a girl like you deserves a good fuck. how big was he again?" now max was just taunting the man. maybe it was a step beyond, but the greasy-haired prick should've known better than to get in max's way.

"three."

"yeah, yeah. didn't know how to use it either. but that's alright, schat. i'll make sure to give you all the orgasms he failed to give you. right?"

you nodded, "right, max, right." you arched your back a little more. the pleasure was flooding your brain. almost overwhelming as he fucked you with such force that it moved the bed up against the wall. the expensive headboard knocked against the wall a little harder.

no more worrying about idiot men for you, not while max was still upright and breathing. you were his. even if max had to raise your standards himself in any capacity. he would make you see that the two of you were a better fit. and to not give these low-lifes any chances. you were above them.

far too beautiful, far too funny, far too charming. if they couldn't handle a woman who liked to ramble then they were weak. max had already been listening to your rambling and ranting for years. the only difference was now he could keep you quiet with about seven inches in your mouth.

"who's going to make you cum?"

"you are!" you said a little louder. your voice a little tighter.

"who?"

"you are!" you yelped as your back arched further and eventually you came around max's cock. the noises you made were angel choirs in max's perverted mind. there, that should get the message across to this other dickhead.

he ended the video and tossed the phone on the bed before he gripped you by the middle and pressed his chest against your back. he fucked you with a heavy pace. it made you see stars and feel the throb of need in your core.

already overstimulated, your body craved for more. now you certainty weren't going to find another man. with a few ore heavy thrusts, you came once more and almost punched the pillow from the intensity. it was soon followed by max who pushed himself all the way inside of you and finished.

"shit." he croaked.

you laid under him as he slowed to a stop and dropped your hips when he pulled out. you laid there, finding comfort in the pillow under your head as you felt on cloud nine.

while max would've loved to eat you out right after. he could tell that you had already had enough for tonight. he laid down next to you and you rolled to your side to face him. your expression was blissed out and sleepy.

so, like any good boyfriend. he held you. and soon you drifted off to sleep. the rush of chemicals to your brain made you sleepy. and soon you were curled up under the covers with max.

"good girl." he said softly as you laid on his chest in a post-orgasm bliss. it wasn't until you were fully asleep that max got to work.

as you laid asleep beside him, he had your phone in his hand. he knew your pass code because it was the same as his. his number (33) and your number. it was a cute thing you wanted to do as teammates. so it wasn't easy to send the video and photos of him fucking you to your ex-boyfriend.

you shifted a little in your sleep from the feeling of the bright light of a phone nearby. you made a noise and almost woke up.

"shh, shh." he said as he kissed the top of your head, "just checking emails, go back to sleep." he was quick to send the video from his phone to your phone then to your ex-boyfriend. you simply snuggled closer and relaxed more. unaware.

max attached a message to the video, the one of him completely taking your pussy, "thought you were dumb, now i think you're completely stupid. don't text or call this number. congratulations of fumbling someone way out of your league. but don't worry, she's better off with me now.- mv." then blocked the number before he put the phone down.

it was his loss honestly, not that max cared. the guy could live forever or die tomorrow. forever irrelevant because now max had you. and as you snuggled up closer to him, a sleepy smile across your face.

you could've gone through a hundred guys, but that didn't matter. because you'd always find your way back to max. <3

[dyingswanpavlova]

Happier than ever

Part 1

Pairing: Nam-gyu × Reader × The Salesman

Warnings: Drug Usage, Overdose, Death, Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Suicide, Mentions of Sexual Activities, Mentions of Rape, Domestic Violence, Domestic Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Anger Issues, Depression, Long Backstory, Minors do not interact!

Nam-gyu and you were a couple for the last eight years. But after you decide you had enough of his anger issues, you leave him and try to be happy on your own. Oh, how naïve you are.

Author's note: Okay, everyone.😩 I know you're waiting for the next part of "Your girl" and trust me, I am, too! I'm sorry that I haven't come up with it yet, but I needed to get my mind off of it for a moment, because I don't want to just write anything and publish it like that - the story means too much to me. I can't publish it unless I'm happy with it, but I promise you, I'm working on it. Until then, I started to furiously hit the key board and this happened. Whatever this is, it is Part 1 of it and I'm doing a Part 2, I just don't know when yet. I love you! 🤍 Lana

Loving Nam-gyu wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.

In fact, it was almost impossible on most days.

But there was a part of you, a thing, a quiet voice – something that needed to be reassured, that felt like maybe you were the problem.

There had been good days, hadn’t there? Your birthday and the way he woke you up with pancakes every year. Of course they turned out horrible and were barely edible. They were raw on the inside and somehow, he still managed to burn them. But he made them for you. The memory still made you smile, despite everything.

Then there was the day you had your big ballet performance. You had spent so many months rehearsing, trying to be perfect. You went all Natalie Portman on that performance. Since the moment you’d been told you got to play Odette, you were fire and flame, spending every waking moment trying to be everything you pictured in your head. It was hard, very hard even. But you had the great hope that, if maybe you did well enough, they would come.

Your family would come and watch. They’d finally show you that they did indeed love you, that you weren’t just a burden or an accident. They would come and they would be proud of you. Your father would set his work phone down, your mother her pills. They would be there. For you.

But of course, they didn’t. You should have known better. It was your own fault, hoping and praying for something that was never going to happen. You should have known.

And still, the moment the curtain lifted and you glanced along the rows and rows of people, you felt disappointed. But you didn’t feel disappointed like normal people would, no. It was you after all. You felt devastated. You felt all of your creativity leave your mind. Your body slowly forgot the choreography. Your eyes glistened with tears. And your life was over.

You had your own issues. He had his anger. You had your world endings.

That was until the door flew open after everyone was already seated, waiting for the show to begin. A few heads turned and your gaze quickly flashed towards the now open door, revealing the face of the mysterious newcomer. He was out of breath and his hair was a mess, his cheeks glowing red and the look in his eyes pleading.

It was Nam-gyu.

You had just had the greatest argument of your life so far, throwing around dishes and screaming your lungs out at each other. Not even twelve hours had passed since then, so you were more than sure that he wouldn’t come. After all, he was the least reliable person you knew, alongside your family. And that fight had been particularly bad. You actually didn’t expect to ever see him again.

But there he was, his appearance disheveled and his eyes pleading with you. Pleading with you to forgive him, pleading with you to dance.

Dance.

You remembered the way you felt. The way your disappointment suddenly turned into something different, something hopeful and warm.

Something good.

He was good.

He was yours.

And you were his.

In that moment, there was nothing else. Everything around you faded into a dark cloud and all you could focus on was him and the way he stood in the middle of the audience, staring up at you. The world was quiet and everything smelled like flowers. The perfection you were striving for was suddenly there and it had nothing to do with your performance.

It was a slow dance, slow and sensual, between your souls.

Until suddenly the music started and your body remembered the movements again.

And you were indeed perfect.

Unfortunately though it wasn’t always like that. Most of the time, he was simply complicated. When he wasn’t drugged out of his mind, he was angry. Not at all the time – but easily. All you had to do was say the wrong thing and he’d explode. And you’d explode right back, right into his face.

“I fucking hate you!”

“Shut the fuck up, you dumb slut!”

“Who are you calling a slut?! You son a bitch!”

“Say that again!”

It always ended the same way. You sobbing on the floor, him slamming the door shut and disappearing. That were the good fights.

The bad ones were different. You couldn’t count the times you had been forced to take shelter in the bathroom, quickly locking the door, too afraid to let him even close to you. Of course you knew how to fight back. You didn’t let him get away with slapping you, oh no, you kneed him right in the balls so he’d know better not to fuck with you. He’d normally collapse and the fight would be over. But sometimes, on especially bad days, he got that look on him.

It wasn’t careful or hesitant. No, it was murderous and terrifying. You always knew there was something dangerous about him. That was probably what drew you in at first. But this…It was different. When he got that look, when the drugs clouded his mind like that, you were truly afraid of what he might do. And so you locked yourself in and listened to the way he pounded against the door, ready to break it down. So far, he hadn’t. A part of him was still in there, even when got like that.

But you didn’t want to push your luck.

After eight years of up and down, back and forth and through the gates of Hell, you finally left him for good. At first he probably didn’t believe it. After all, you had pulled the leaving card a million times before. But somehow you always ended up back in his bed, with him fucking your brains out and calling it making up.

But this time, you meant it. It had been a pretty normal Tuesday. You were at work, waiting tables and cleaning up after your mindless customers. It wasn’t the best job in the world, but it paid the bills – albeit, barely.

After your father left and married a woman hardly any older than you and you found your mother on the bathroom floor, cold and stiff, her eyes wide and her chin and hair covered in foam and puke, you decided couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t be that anymore.

You moved in with Nam-gyu. It started off well at first. He was as cute as ever, when he was sober. Sure, you had fights already, but they were mostly trivial. Yelling was involved, throwing furniture around as well, but he never got violent with you so far.

He found a job, as did you and you paid your apartment together. It was tiny of course, but it was enough. You bought groceries and washed laundry. You even had some spare money to buy furniture and decorations. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. You did everything the way you always pictured it.

You had been with Nam-gyu since you turned seventeen. You met back in school and immediately fell in love with him. He had been so sweet. Acting overly confident and arrogant, of course, but it was just a front which you immediately realized. Under all that he was actually rather silly. He made you laugh without even trying. Even he seemed surprised by how good you two matched. So far he’d been going through life, acting like everyone was beneath him. But in reality, he wasn’t popular. He was a bully. He was mean, with a cruel streak. But never to you. No, when someone dared to speak up their mind against you, he was there, ready to break their jaw. You formed a friendship of sort. He was protective and extremely possessive, while you were caring. His family was a bunch of assholes, just like yours was and neither of you had any real friends.

Most of your friends were other dancers and neither of those were really sentimental. Sure, it was enough to go out for a salad sometimes, but you really weren’t one for bulimia and cigarettes. Most of them were, unfortunately.

You loved food. You loved to eat and you appreciated every bite. You’d grown up rather lonely on your own, praying every night for a sibling or a real friend. Someone you could talk to, about real problems. Your ballet friends though? Whenever they asked you how you felt, they didn’t actually want to know. They were just being polite.

Nam-gyu was just as lonely, though he wouldn’t have ever admitted it. He had friends, who were to no one’s surprise, also a bunch of assholes. Some of them were just bullies, others were straight-up rapists.

“What do you mean, you changed your mind? Are you dumb? Shut the fuck up and take it. You agreed to this!”

Nam-gyu wasn’t. It was another thing he wouldn’t have admitted to out loud, but the thought of fucking someone while they were out of it was something he wasn’t after. A thing that really turned him on was to see the pleasure on the other person’s face. The moans, the sighs. He wouldn’t get that if he just made them take it. And so he didn’t. But he tried to keep a straight face, when his friends shared their immoral stories of last weekend. He tried to laugh, when they spoke about the way the girls curled up in self-hatred after they left them there, their cum leaking out of them.

That was until one of the girls ended up killing herself.

She had been super sad and melancholic for as long anyone could remember. She was rather quiet and no-one really spoke to her. She wasn’t weird or anything, just really shy. That was enough to get bullied. She was an obvious virgin and rather closed-off. A good challenge. A great bet.

So, one of his friends placed a bet with the others. Fuck the girl.

“No way that weirdo is letting you anywhere close to her.”

And she didn’t, at first. She didn’t trust anyone around, because people normally made fun of her. But that guy, who went by Nic, was a real good actor. He didn’t walk up to her and just made advances. No, he played shy around her. Sweet. Funny. He managed to tickle a smile out of her. A laugh. And he didn’t just do it once. He did it for days. Weeks. Two months. He played her boyfriend. Her sweet, shy boyfriend. Until her front slowly crumbled and she fell in love with him. Deeply. So much that she actually decided to give Nic her first.

According to Nic it had been nothing out of the ordinary, but Nam-gyu knew it was more than that. He could read the people around him fairly well, and he could also see the way Nic’s pupils dilated, the way his heart skipped a beat, whenever his sweet, little girlfriend was around.

But his friends, his friends, they were constantly at his back.

“Did you finally fuck her?”

“Did you stretch that weird little cunt, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for that Wednesday Addams bitch.”

Nic had a reputation to uphold. And so he did what he deemed necessary. He had sex with her and then he dumped her. But not like any normal person would. No, he made fun of her in the worst ways and ended up sending her nudes to anyone who was interested.

The same nudes he had begged her to send him, to trust him, for only his eyes.

And the next day, the gruesome news were heard over speaker.

She was dead. Jumped off her apartment building, right into her death.

Nic had a mental breakdown. No-one else from his group really cared. No-one except for Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu spent the rest of the day in his car, staring down at the steering wheel and trying not to throw up.

You had heard the news of course and you were devastated. You hadn’t known the girl, but you had never been mean to her. You actually remembered a few interactions you had. You knew there had been something going on between her and Nam-gyu’s friend. But naïve, little you had had the hope that it wasn’t a trick. How stupid you had been.

You spent the rest of the day looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Right when you already thought maybe he wasn’t at school at all, you saw his car. He was inside and God, he looked horrible. With red-rimmed eyes and shaking hands, all day. You tried your best to comfort him, but it was futile. He felt guilty. Someone was dead. And maybe, just maybe, if he had intervened in time…

You tried to make him understand that it wasn’t his fault, not entirely. He never spoke to his friends again.

You’d later find out, that was the day he took his first injection. So far all he had been doing were mushrooms and weed, but Hell, who hadn’t?

You spent more and more time together, because he firmly ignored everyone who was so damn fucked in the head. He was trying to be good, he was trying so hard. Life hadn’t been easy on him, not at all, but he still tried.

A month later, you had your first kiss. Another three days later you had sex. It was your first time and he was being surprisingly gentle and considerate. You loved thinking back to it, because you didn’t regret it at all. No matter what else happened between you afterwards, you could never regret giving your virginity to him, because it meant so much to you. And it seemed to mean even more to him.

Two years later, it was safe to say you were made for each other. Even long after being out of school, you were still a couple. He still got these angry outbursts sometimes, but you tried to understand him. He had grown up, feeling unseen and unloved by anyone. As did you. You weren’t angry per say. But you got angry, when he did. You had these desperate mood swing. And whenever something didn’t go your way, you felt like the world was ending. You felt everything intensely.

Love was great. It was all-consuming. You loved him in the same way he did. You adored him. Anger was different. It felt suffocating. Sadness wasn’t sadness, but depression. And despair was enough to nearly kill you.

You tried going to university, but that didn’t work out, because your father left and so you had no chance to pay the tuition. Nam-gyu never even bothered to try, because he knew he would fail anyway, but he tried whatever he could to make your dream work. You wanted to work with animals, heal them, help them, do whatever you could to make someone’s life better. But despite all your – and his – efforts, it didn’t work out. It was simply too much. He was heartbroken when you were forced to leave school, because of your selfish prick of a father. But it was alright.

You’d find another job. You could still make it in life, even without university. Everything was good.

That was, until you couldn’t afford your dance practice any longer.

That was heartbreaking.

One day, you came home after a long day of playing cashier, only to find your mother had stolen all the money you had saved so far. She took it to buy pills or whatever else. You couldn’t even be mad at her, because she lay passed out in the doorway to her room.

You had no money. And all your dreams were dead.

By the time that happened you were far into twenty-one, so you knew that life was cruel and you turned more and more bitter.

Nam-gyu was simply angry, but there was not much he could do. His parents threw him out at nineteen, so he had been paying his own rent since then. He tried speculating with cryptocurrency, but that didn’t work out. He played it down, but you knew he lost quite the amount of his own savings.

A year later your mother died and you finally moved in together. So far you hadn’t been able to leave her on her own, but now that she was gone, you couldn’t stand to live in the same place where she had died. The cemetery of what could have been. Countless dour memories, not a single one good.

You had never had a particularly good relationship, but she was your mother nonetheless. The sight of her dead body and horrified face, it haunted you in your sleep. You spent more than one night, waking up screaming, sweating and clutching the linens. Luckily, Nam-gyu was there to catch you, before you ever managed to fall into the deep pit that was your mind.

He managed to calm you down somehow, every time. He was perfect. The perfect boyfriend.

Until he wasn’t.

You hated when he did drugs, especially so after what had happened to your mother. And so he said he wouldn’t, but it was obviously just to pacify you. You always noticed when he did it nonetheless, you knew the dazed look in his eyes, the paleness of his skin. Whenever he refused a meal, it was obvious to you. Normally, he’d choke down everything you cooked like a starved animal, but there were days when he picked at his food and that was always the first indication.

His short responses, his temper, suddenly so easily flared. It didn’t take long for your first real argument to break out. It was fine, up until the point when you saw his hand twitch. Obviously, you shot him a murderous look, daring him. If he dared to hit you, you’d break his fucking jaw.

And he refrained. For then.

Things went mostly normal, until the next fight. That time he wasn’t so gentle. Things got out of hand and he pushed you against the wall, smashing your head against it in the process. For a moment, you were simply stunned – and even he seemed to be. He stopped before he could cause any greater damage.

Things went between good and bad, it was a constant battle for dominance. One day was good, the next day horrible. You couldn’t even look at him without earning a harsh comment. You’d ignore him firmly for the rest of the day and eventually he’d come crawling back, begging you to let him back inside the bedroom. He didn’t mind the couch, he just missed you. And somehow you always forgave him, far too easily. Sometimes he did change for a while. Surprised you with flowers or his sad attempts at cooking. Every time he messed up a scrambled egg, you couldn’t help but get weak. He was so silly, it was endearing. Yet at the same time, you knew there was something dark within him. Most likely the drugs, but you could never tell for sure.

Maybe this was just who he was.

Things got better and worse again, until one night, he snapped. You had a fight about one of your co-workers, who he considered a threat. You never understood it, because to you it was so obvious that you never wanted anyone else. Despite your problems, you stayed fiercely loyal to him. You loved Nam-gyu. And a part of you still believed that in the end, things would turn out good. Maybe they would, right?

But that night was bad. He got so furious and when he yelled at you, the walls seemed to shake. You were normally so eager to fight back, so strong, but that day something was different. You were on your period and just a few hours earlier, you had met a dance friend of yours. She told you, she was sure that, if you had stayed, you’d be famous by now. But she wasn’t kind about it. She was subtly looking down at you, shaming you for the way your life had turned out. It made a tight knot form in your stomach and you felt your resolve slowly crumble. All you wanted was to cry, but even that didn’t work, because you came home to a furious Nam-gyu.

Your shoulders slumped and you refused to look at him, which only ever made him angrier.

You didn’t see the slap coming, but once it happened, you couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t forget the anger and the disappointment that welled up in you. When you looked up at him, you expected the tiniest bit of regret or guilt, but there was nothing. He was too deep in his bubble of anger and substance, to see clearly. He got more and more furious and you knew; if you didn’t hide then, he’d do something worse. It was the first night you hid yourself away in the bathroom, one of many to follow. You always told yourself it were the drugs. He was so sweet when he was sober, so gentle and loving. You kept telling yourself, things would be good one day. They would turn out well. With time and patience.

Until you snapped.

You were at work, staring off into the distance. You had been out of it all day, because you spent the previous night locked in the bathroom, until he finally passed out around four in the morning. You snuck out and made your way to your workplace, where you opened more than three hours early. You had nowhere else to go. No family, no friends, no one. Only you and your pain. All day you spent trying to cover the dark marks on your wrists, but no one seemed to care anyway. People went about their own lives and problems and you were just their co-worker, their waitress.

You stood silently, watching an elderly couple whose order you had just taken. They were so sweet, like they came right out of a movie. He held the door open for her and pulled her chair back. He caressed her cheek and she never flinched when he reached out his hand for her. They smiled at each other with such a tenderness, it brought tears to your eyes. That was the exact moment. That was the moment you realized you didn’t want to continue on living like this.

You wanted more. You deserved more.

You made your way back and gathered most of your things while he was still at work. Of course it wasn’t the most intelligent approach, but it was all you could do. You knew, the moment you sat down and tried to explain to him that you were going to leave him, he’d find a way to convince you to stay. It had been eight years, after all. Eight years on and off, eight years up and down. Drugs, violence, lies – at least he never cheated on you.

You’d keep that in tender memory of him. As well as the countless times he had comforted and fought for you. All the times he made you laugh, all the times he made you feel loved. The greatest sex you would ever have, no doubt.

But you still packed your things and left like a ghost. After eight years.

He tried to contact you of course, the moment he came home. But you took your paycheck and went to a motel. Whenever he tried to find you at work, you hid in the kitchen. Your co-workers tried to calm him down, to tell him that you didn’t work there any longer, but he saw through the lie. He got loud and furious, which you could kind of understand. You stayed in the kitchen, crying to yourself and feeling incredibly guilty, but you didn’t ever come out.

He kept coming, but it got less and less frequent. From what your co-workers told you, he seemed less and less like himself. The thought broke your heart and nearly made you go back.

You were constantly in your head, making more and more mistakes at work, until your boss’s patience finally snapped. When you messed up the third customers giant bill, he fired you. You instantly panicked, because you were sure, now you had to go back.

You even drove around in your car, trying to get a glimpse of him in the apartment. But to your horror, you didn’t see Nam-gyu in the window. It were other people, some couple actually. And when you tried to call him, the number wasn’t available. Suddenly, he was a ghost and you were knee deep in horse shit.

It didn’t take long for your money to go and so you ended up panicking. You had to leave the motel soon and if you didn’t get a job – you’d end up homeless. Which was as good as dead.

A few days later, after you realized that you seemed to have no special talents and that no one really cared to hire you, you sat at the metro station. You had only one option left or so you thought. Le girls girls girls. You were a dancer. You were graceful. You were too good for this.

But it was all you could do. After all, the girls didn’t have to indulge in any immoral transactions. They were just dancing, right? Fine, in light clothing, but still dancing. You could do that.

You were deep in thought, your eyes closed and your head leaned against the wall behind you, when you heard someone’s voice.

“Care for a game of Ddakji?”

This was when your life took a dark turn.

You eyed the handsome stranger with suspicion. It was super odd. A man going down the path of middle age, slicked-back hair, wearing a suit and a briefcase on him.

And he was asking you to play a game with him?

You frowned and glanced around.

“I don’t know what you want, but you won’t get it from me.”

He smirked and tilted his head to the side innocently.

“I don’t want anything. Just a little game. That’s all. You got something to win here. I got money.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not a fucking hooker.”

He smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And I told you, all I want is to play a game. Are you scared?”

That made you bristle. You knew the game and you fucking hated it. You were fairly good at playing at, but you didn’t care for this idiot’s audacity. You were about to snap at him again, when you caught sight of the money. Your eyes widened and you sank back against the wall.

“I don’t have any money.” You murmured back.

“Don’t worry. You can pay with your body.”

Your head shot up and you were ready to lunge at him, but he held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I have no intention of fucking you.” He said calmly. “So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared?”

You crossed your arms and got up, giving him a dirty look.

“Get to it, son of a bitch.”

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. You had trouble adjusting your sight to the unnatural, neon light. The smell was odd, somewhat disinfectant. Something was really wrong.

You slowly stretched and turned your head, only to see you weren’t alone. That was enough to nearly make you shriek. You sat up quickly enough to get dizzy. Next to your own bunk was a woman who stared at you through her cat-eyes. She smirked devilishly as she lay on her side.

“Your fate is sealed. There’s no way you can dance your way out of this.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. This had to be some freakish co-incidence. You took your gaze off her, only to realize you weren’t alone. Countless people surrounded you, some of them awake, others still asleep. They all wore the same green tracksuit, just as you did.

You took a shaky breath and carefully swung your legs over the bed, heading for the ladder.

What, in God’s name, was this? And why did you agree to it?

You only remembered how ashamed you felt and how good the prospect sounded of not having to dance half-naked for strange men.

But was this really better?

You glanced around in the hope of…Of what? The situation was far too fucked up.

The fact that they got you here unconsciously, getting you dressed…

You wanted to throw up. You stumbled through the great hall, hoping to get some answers to your questions, but that hope quickly got crushed.

These were the real strange men. Dressed in pink suits, wearing masks which covered all of their faces and even their voices weren’t their own. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a fun game, you suddenly realized.

That Ddakji playing motherfucker had deceived you.

You lost the first round, which resulted in him slapping you. And that slap, which hadn’t really been a gentle one, awakened some kind of beast in you. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the memory of getting slapped and hunted down your own apartment on a regular basis. Whatever it was, you didn’t lose another round. He gave you money and money and money. But you didn’t want his fucking money. You wanted revenge.

You kept winning, because nothing else was possible. And by the end of the game, he smiled at you while he handed you the damned card.

But right before he turned crawled back into the pit of Hell where he had come from, you called out to him.

“Hey, motherfucker.”

He cocked a brow and regarded you with amusement. “Are you still mad about that tiny, little hit? Come on, you took it like a champ.”

“Then you should, too.”  You slapped him with an intensity, you didn’t think you’d ever possess.

He looked at you like a statue, obviously ready to lunge at and murder you. But he hid his murderous intent behind a well-rehearsed smile.

“That one was free.” He said calmly. “And if I ever do see you again, I want a return match.”

He left and you were left with the card.

And there you were now. This wasn’t some childish game of Ddakji.

No one showed their face. You knew what that meant. Something was wrong – and you were in trouble.

You were about to leave the hall and take part in the first game, following after the others. You wouldn’t even have noticed, had you not bumped into him full-force.

When you pulled back your head, ready to apologize, you froze.

There he was. Your Nam-gyu. Staring back at you with wide eyes, behind them a mixture of something akin to surprise and fury.

“What the fuck?” He hissed.

He rushed forward and grabbed your by the shoulders, backing you up against the wall. Your eyes widened and you tried to push him back, but he was driven by something far stronger than both of you.

“Nam-gyu?” You breathed out.

He frowned deeply and stared at you incredulously.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I didn’t-“

“Oh my God, I’m going to kill you.” He growled. “Where were you? What’s going on with you? Are you fucking-“

“Is there a problem here?” At first, you didn’t see the guy behind him with his ridiculous hairstyle and pouty lips. Immediately, you hated the sight of him.

“Fuck, she’s my-“

The purple-haired guy gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Whatever, man. We should get going, huh? We’ll be late for the game.”

He eyed you in an odd way, but you pushed it down and used the moment to free yourself from Nam-gyu’s grip and run out, rushing after the others and hiding in the crowd. He attempted to follow you and even called out to you, but you were already gone.

Fuck, you thought.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

[always-just-red]

@lunariadew asked: 'Can you write a poly fic maby like a feel good fic or date night or something with all the boys! I’m greedy and I think there’s not enough poly fics as there should be'

Nothing profound this time around! Just some good old-fashioned shenanigans. I've wanted to do a fic with all the boys for SO long (Infold, hire me to write a sitcom-style show for the guys, PLEASE) I've kept it platonic since it's early stages; it's open to interpretation about how many sparks are flying and between whom exactly..... 👀 But if ppl want more of this, I'm all over it. Platonic or romantic? I'll play it by ear!

Game Night

L&DS Boys X Reader

Summary: The most important men in your life can manage one evening together, right? For you? Please? Pretty please?

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, some swearing, a lil conflict, non-canon (I know some of the guys probably know each-other but we're pretending they don't 😇)

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Rafayel… what do you think this is?”

The artist stands at your open door, wearing a self-assured smile and one of the flashier outfits you’ve seen him in, and that’s really saying something. Between you is a bouquet of lilies, petals curled like frozen licks of fire that compliment— deliberately, if you had to guess— the warmer fires within his eyes. Those eyes narrow at your question.

“What do you think it is?” he says suspiciously, lowering the flowers.

“…Game night?”

You’re not sure why you phrase it so tentatively. You know what it is; you’re the host. You open your door wider, stepping aside to give Rafayel a better view of the apartment behind you, and the remainder of his smile sinks.

“Hi,” Xavier calls out, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s giving a wholesome sort of wave.

“Hi…” Rafayel answers, barely more than a whisper as his eyes flit between everyone else in the room, because he’s the last to arrive. “Game night, yeah,” he nods assertively, “I knew that.” Then a deep breath: “Can I, like, put these somewhere—”

“Kitchen counter,” you gesture.

“Got it.” He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Closing the door behind him, you watch as he skirts past the lounge and makes for your kitchen, where another bouquet already lies waiting. He zeroes in on it. “Looks like mine’s not the only heart you’re breaking tonight, huh, cutie? What are these—” he pokes at a petal— “daturas?”

“They’re her favourite,” speaks a distinctly low voice.

Rafayel doesn’t look up. He plonks his bouquet on top of the other and winces: “They’re really not, though.”

“He’s right,” you chip in, giving Sylus a sheepish smile, and now Rafayel looks up, beaming.

“She likes roses,” Zayne says, with the calm confidence he’d quote a medical journal. On the sofa beside him, Xavier nods, and you grin at them both.

“Noted,” Sylus chuckles.

Rafayel’s less convinced. “Since when?!”

“Since forever, Raf. I like lilies too, so I didn’t say anything, ‘kay?” You beckon him back to the lounge, ignoring his splutters of disbelief. “C’mere, let me introduce you to everyone.”

The man slinks to your side like a reluctant shadow, and your hands find your hips. “This is Zayne. Xavier,” you point out, putting faces to names; Rafayel’s heard stories about each. Then you nod towards Sylus. “Over there’s Skye.”

From his place by the window, Sylus lifts a hand in greeting.

“So… yeah,” you finish. Oh, wait! “Guys, this is—”

“They know who I am,” Rafayel shrugs, his fame apparently heavy on his shoulders. He glances around the room for validation, but he gets none, so he tries again. “You do know who I am, right?”

“Sorry,” Xavier admits with an awkward smile, glancing back at Sylus: you?

The man has to think about it. You know for a fact he’s traded more than one of Rafayel’s paintings for a profit, but he smirks and gives an even more exaggerated shrug than the artist himself.

Really?

“You’re Rafayel,” Zayne states plainly.

“Yeah! See, I told you, cutie—”

“You slipped on a paintbrush and checked yourself into Akso, right? The nurses still talk about it.”

Rafayel’s enthusiasm drains. He looks conflicted as he mulls over the additional information. “In, like, a good way?” he hazards.

Zayne stares back at him, wielding silence like a scalpel before cutting deeper with a: “…sure.”

You bite back a smile. Leaving the two to discuss the finer details of Rafayel’s notoriety at the hospital, you wander over to the kitchen, where you fish out a vase from the back of a cupboard. You fill it, set it down on the counter, then reach for Sylus’s bouquet. There’s a black satin ribbon; you untie it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, sweetie?” asks the man himself, joining you discreetly.

The others can’t really hear you— they’re still talking. “What,” you smirk, retrieving your scissors from a drawer, “you worried Xavier’s gonna arrest you?”

Sylus laughs lowly, quietly. “That’s adorable.”

“Good.” You pick up a flower and trim a leaf from the stem. “Because even if he wanted to—” you wave it, just short of his face— “I’d protect you, ok?”

He regards the flower beneath his nose. Smiles smugly. “These can be toxic, sweetie.”

“Really? Whoops.” You put it down, then snatch up a lily from Rafayel’s bouquet. “En Garde!”

“These too.”

“What the hell?”

The flame-red flower drops from your fingers, and Sylus laughs more sincerely. “Stick to roses, kitten. Or…” He moves his hand over his deconstructed bouquet, his Evol pruning the rest of the leaves from the stems. A tendril of it gathers the flowers, delivering them to him so he can hold them out to you with a flourish. “Live dangerously. Who am I to judge?”

You take them, then plop them into the vase. “Cute.”

“I’m here all week,” he grins. “You’d better wash your hands, hmm?”

With a hmph of agreement, you turn to the sink. You spend half a minute, rubbing soap and warm water over your hands, and when you turn back around— still drying them— something is different. The lilies are gone. Sylus is looking at you, innocuous.

“Real mature, Skye.”

He makes no effort to defend himself. You’re about to tell him that his magic better extend to making flowers reappear when your attention is whipped back to the lounge. The voices from that side have raised, so you lean forward on your kitchen island, watching their owners in a sort of stakeout.

“I take it you have a plan,” Sylus whispers, leaning with you.        

You look at him. He looks back. “The plan is for hosts,” you scold, “not guests.” He’s much too close so you step away, reaching for the vase of daturas and holding them threateningly out, like you’re not afraid to use them. “Go back to the guests, deserter.”

Sylus lifts his hands in surrender, smirking in a way that says he knows he’s met his match. You shoo him further, back into enemy lines, then resume your stakeout. Xavier is sharing his own “embarrassing” medical story— talking about a time where he once passed out from exhaustion while fighting at your side, and you think it’s supposed to make Rafayel feel better.

It doesn’t, of course, and even Zayne is gazing down at the floor, self-conscious.

Sylus meets your eyes across the room, signals with a tip of his head: now's a good time for that master plan, sweetie.

Right. Your plan. Your master plan, yeah.

…

“You should have picked the doctor.”

Sylus’s words are near-silent: for you, not anyone else, and you pretend you don’t hear them. “But no,” he carries on, because he knows you can, “you just had to have the artist.”

“It’s Pictionary!” you snap, drawing all eyes in the room.

Lounging beside you, Sylus feigns an amused surprise, as though he hasn’t just been trying to elicit that exact reaction. On the other sofa, Zayne and Xavier stare, taken more genuinely aback. You give a smile of apology.

“Guys, concentrate!” Rafayel clicks his fingers at you. He’s stood in the centre of the space by a large drawing pad, and he goes back to frantically sketching on it. The drawing is… interesting. Abstract. Maybe even beautiful? But you don’t have a clue what it is.

“Thirty seconds,” warns Zayne, studying the little egg-timer he’s guarding.

You tilt your head at the drawing. There’s maybe a— wait, where did those extra colours come from? Where did he even get those pens? Anyway… there’s a circle. “A globe?” you guess. “Earth! No? Umm… oh! The sun! The moon!”

Rafayel shakes his head with every suggestion, adding even more intricate, unhelpful scribbles. Is that a fifth pen?! You nudge your other teammate, calling for back-up.

Sylus regards the drawing listlessly. “A unicorn.”

“What?!” Rafayel’s tone has reached a pitch that almost makes you wince. “No! C’mon, are you even trying?”

“No,” Sylus lilts with a pleasant smile, lifting the drink he’s been nursing to his lips.

You kick his foot. “A bowl of fruit!” you exclaim, determined to make up for the lack of enthusiasm. “A plate? A plate with food? Breakfast! Lunch! Dinner!”

“Time’s up,” Zayne interrupts, and it’s a mercy, really; you deflate with a sigh.

Rafayel puts his hands on his hips as he takes a step back to observe his work. He tucks four fine-liners back into his pocket— purses his lips as though he really can’t see a problem— and he’s keeping you all in suspense.

Sylus is up in an instant, stealing a card from where it’s been discarded on the coffee table. He reads the answer, then rolls his eyes. The original pen was also abandoned, so he plucks it up, then strides to the drawing pad.

He draws an oval. Then a triangle.

“A fish! A fish!” you cry out.

“You’re good at this, sweetie,” Sylus grins. He puts the lid on the pen with a click before dropping it into Rafayel’s hand.

“Is it my turn?” Xavier asks, trying to relieve the tension of the room. He gets up and smiles as Rafayel passes him the pen. “Your drawing is pretty. The composition is really—”

“Don’t,” Rafayel says. “Like, thanks? But don’t.”

“Fair enough,” Xavier chuckles.

You all prepare for the next round: Zayne handing you the egg-timer, Xavier re-organising the stack of prompt cards. Sylus takes a photo of the drawing pad before ambling back over— a moping Rafayel in tow— and they both sink down either side of you. You glance at the latter, giggling. “A fish, Raf? Really?”

“So I didn’t just wanna draw you some basic fish, ok?” The artist crosses his arms with a pout. “But fine, enjoy mediocrity, I guess.”

To your left, Sylus raises his glass in toast to the notion. There’s a noise: Xavier tearing the used page from the pad. You look up. “Xavier, can I have that?”

“Sure.” He brings it over to you.

You look at the drawing again, holding it at arm’s length and rotating it experimentally. You’re seeing a lot, but nothing that screams ‘fish’. There’s a circle, still. Oh! “It’s a fish bowl! Wait, wait, wait— is that Reddie?”

“Yeah!” Rafayel beams.

“Aww!”

The renewed team spirit drops off with Sylus; he’s on his phone, not paying attention. He seems to sense your scrutiny because he peers up, gives a ghost of a smile, then returns to whatever he’s doing. Meanwhile, Xavier is ready for his turn, so he signals for you to start the timer. You give him a thumbs up as you turn it over. “Go!”

He starts drawing.

“A car,” Zayne guesses after all of five seconds. Correct. Next. “A river? No. Oh. A snake.” Yes. “A cupcake?” Also yes. (In fairness, he was never going to struggle with that one.) “A person? Ok. Oh, a scientist, no? Ah, a doctor.” Yes again, and really— what?

Zayne continues to list correct answers, though thankfully, that’s the last of the coincidences. You watch on, vaguely in awe, until you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You check it casually, aware that Sylus is next to you, looking down at it too.

It’s a text from him: The drawing… Can I have it?

You glance up at him subtly, meeting his eyes and giving a discreet yet firm shake of your head. He frowns. You’re not having this debate here, now, so you let your gaze return to the drawing pad while idly retrieving your drink.

A few seconds later, there’s another text: Found buyer

Then another: Quarter of a mil

You almost choke on that drink.

“Umm… cutie?” Rafayel asks, poking you. He points at the timer you’ve left on the coffee table, and the top half is empty.

“Shit, yeah. That’s time!” you call.

Xavier stops drawing. The small, crude sketches behind him have reached double digits. He looks really proud. “Great! How many was that?”

His eyes find you. Zayne and Rafayel’s, too. Were you supposed to be counting? Uh—

“Eleven,” says Sylus, and it’s way too smug to be a lie.

“Awesome!” Xavier flips the drawing pad over to where you’ve been tallying point totals. He adds eleven marks to one side. “That’s—” he counts both— “ah, thirty-three to nine.”

A silence falls over the room. Unsure of what else to do, you give a half-hearted round of applause and Xavier laughs awkwardly, still humble, despite it all. “I think we’re kinda done with Pictionary, yeah?” you suggest, rising from your seat. “I should probably get started on food, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

The insistence came from Xavier, and you freeze suspiciously; he’s never turned down free food.

“You’ve already done so much,” he explains, “setting this all up for us. You should relax, really! Leave it to me.”

The word ‘relax’ is not synonymous with the image of Xavier anywhere near your kitchen, but he’s looking at you so earnestly, blue eyes brimming with warmth, and what are you supposed to say? No thanks, Xavier— I value my life? Everyone’s watching you. Gods help you. “That’s really sweet, Xavier. Thanks.”

Your fellow Hunter’s smile widens even more. He heads off to the kitchen, a spring to his step that makes your heart sink with dread. “Actually—” you glance at your ex-teammates— “could you two go help him? Zayne and I’ll tidy up over here.”

Rafayel and Sylus do as they’re asked, even though their expressions remind you that cooking is not, typically, a three-man job. It’s tactical, though. You wanted a moment alone with Zayne. “Are you ok?” you ask, once the others are out of earshot. “I know this must all be a lot. The guys can be, well… yeah.”

He knows what you mean, right?

Zayne has slipped away from the couch; he’s crouched on the floor, collecting a few prompt cards that have wandered astray. He glances up at you, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’m ok,” he assures with a fond smile. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome.” He hands you the cards and you slot them back into their deck. Then you turn to the drawing pad. “You and Xavier make a good team, huh?”

The doctor straightens to his full height. “Mmm. It helped that we didn’t spend the entire game comparing the size of our… drawing abilities.” 

You laugh unashamedly. The pen’s still at-hand, so you pick it up— reward another point.

Zayne chuckles.

“Food’s gonna be a while.”

You both turn, following the voice back to Sylus, who has apparently decided he’s had his fill of kitchen duty. What was that— a minute? He seems to have anticipated your dissatisfaction, because he’s brought a bribe with him: the box of chocolates that had come with his bouquet. It’s already open and he holds it out, tempting you.

He’s right— you don’t know when you’ll next be eating— so you select a heart-shaped chocolate, popping it into your mouth with a smile and a muffled: “thanks.”

Sylus smiles back. Then he holds the box out to Zayne. “Doctor?”

It takes a nod of encouragement from you to prompt Zayne into taking something. He chooses a white chocolate truffle, mumbles his own thanks, but Sylus doesn’t relent— not yet. He shakes the box slightly, incitingly, and he doesn’t move it away until Zayne takes two more.

Your physician shoots you a surreptitious smile as Sylus falls back onto the couch, content he’s won your hearts, and that he won’t be sent back to the kitchen anytime soon. His long fingers lift another chocolate from the box, and he meets your eyes as he slips it slowly past his lips, humming like he’s enjoying himself.

You cross your arms, unimpressed. He gives you the least convincing look of innocence you’ve ever seen.

There’s an exclamation from the kitchen: “Hey, where did my flowers go!?” 

Shit. You hastily push the drawing pad aside then scurry over to assist Rafayel. You don’t have a plan, exactly; it’s not like you can help him look for them. “Umm… they’re around, Raf. I moved them somewhere safer, that’s all.”

“Where?”

“Uh—”

“Does it matter?” Sylus speaks from behind you, because he and Zayne are close at your heels. “She said they’re somewhere safe.” He leans on the kitchen island. “Don’t you trust her?”

Rafayel scoffs. “I trust her plenty.”

“So prove it. Drop it.”

“Skye,” you caution, “stop.”

Sylus does stop, but not because you asked. He’s done enough already, hasn’t he? Rafayel is bristling with indignance— a lit fuse— and behind him, Xavier sneakily checks the trash can, looking relieved at what he doesn’t find. He gives you a subtle glance: Where actually are the flowers?

You lift a shoulder an inch: Beats me!

There’s a soft, almost imperceptible crackle, and it draws your eyes to the vase of daturas between you all. They’ve caught light— their petals twisting, darkening, within larger flowers of fire.

“Rafayel!” you gasp. “No, no, no, the fire alarm!”

The torched flowers are encased, all of a sudden, in a fine layer of shimmering frost. Sylus blinks down at them, unmoved by their destruction. Zayne’s hand is still outstretched, snowflakes etched over his palm. Then something… odd happens. The ice doesn’t stop. It spreads over the rest of the kitchen island, to all of your bewilderment.

“Zayne?” Your voice is fraught with worry, but you don’t give a damn about your kitchen.

The man winces, and you so rarely see him out of control. The silver-white patterns have crawled up his wrist, and the ice continues to spread; even Sylus steps back. Sharp, jagged crystals start to form— inching out towards everyone.

“Zayne!” you try again.

His chest rises as he drags air through his teeth; it looks like it hurts, but the ice does stop. The others are still, suspended by momentary uncertainty, and you rush to Zayne’s side, taking his hand.

“What the hell was that?” Rafayel remarks, shaking away his surprise and thawing an icicle that’s way too close for comfort.

“He wouldn’t have needed to use his Evol if you hadn’t used yours.”

It’s Xavier, strangely— you would have expected Sylus. The Hunter’s tone is gentle as always, but there’s something behind it, this time: a frustration that lends an edge.

Rafayel hears it too. “Hey, I’m not the one who started this!” He points to Sylus. “He—”

“Has been lighting fires all evening,” Xavier finishes. “But at least his were only figurative.”

Sylus laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh where you just know he’s vying to make things worse. “Look at that,” he says, “the boy next door can bite.”

Xavier’s eyes sharpen. Beside you, Zayne slips his hand from yours. It’s an instinct you know well. This moment is volatile, and you have to be ready. It could go a dozen different ways; it’s just waiting for a spark.

“Guys,” you manage to get out, “please, just… everyone, take a breath, ok? Everything’s fine, we just have to—”

A spark.

There’s smoke. Actual smoke. “Xavier, behind you!” Zayne alerts.

It’s creeping out of the oven and Xavier turns— eyes wide— to open its door before any of you can stop him. Thicker smoke billows out, filling the air, and you all scramble away from it. The fire alarm triggers. You think Rafayel’s shouting something, but you can’t really hear him. Then Sylus is shouting. Maybe even Zayne. The alarm is piercing your ears and making you dizzy— or is it the smoke?

You feel a hand on your shoulder and suddenly everything changes.

There’s cool air, brushing over your skin, and it’s dark; you’re outside the building. You can still hear the alarm, shrill but further away, and your window is easy to spot: there’s a red light flashing behind it. Sylus leans into your vision, saying your name.

“Stay here,” he tells you, “alright?”

He’s gone in another moment, lost to a flicker of crimson-black darkness.

Gods, you’re so stupid.

…

You sit on a short wall outside of your building, and the street is full of people. You recognise most of them: neighbours. Every single one is mad at you. You’re all waiting for the alarm to cut out— for the all-clear to be given. The fire wasn’t that serious in the end, but there’s still a procedure. You would know; this isn’t exactly your first evacuation.

The guys are safe, which is good, because it means you can kill them later. They’ve all gotten lost in the throng, and your neighbours can keep them. Maybe they’ll kill them for you.  

“Hey, cutie.”

You were staring down at your feet, but you look up at Rafayel’s voice. He’s coming towards you, evoking a sense of déjà vu, because he’s clutching a bouquet of flame lilies. That’s… the bouquet of flame lilies. How?

“Skye gave ‘em back to me,” he explains, chuckling at your expression, and he’s close enough now to hold the flowers out to you. “I don’t know where he was keeping them. His Evol’s weird, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say timidly, taking the bouquet and gazing down into the petals; they still smell sweet.

Rafayel sits next to you, shuffling close, and he leans his head on your shoulder with a tired sigh. You want to be mad at him. You really, really do— but you’re suddenly not.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel.” The admission barely makes it out of your throat.

You feel his head lift. “You’re sorry?”

“I know it was just a misunderstanding,” you speak into the flowers, “but tonight… wasn’t what you were expecting, I get it. I mean, I kinda threw you into the deep end with all this. You didn’t know you were gonna be around other people, and I—”

“Whoa— cut that out, yeah? You’re killing me, cutie. I spend the whole evening causing trouble, and you’re gonna take all the blame? Nope. Not happening. It was a collaborative effort at least, ok?”

You giggle. “Ok.”  

“Good.” His head slumps back down on your shoulder, and yours tilts to rest against it. “Thanks, though. Really,” he whispers, so quiet you almost don’t notice.

Footsteps and familiar voices draw you from the intimacy of the moment. The others are wandering back to you, having finally escaped the veritable mob of your neighbours. They all look tired.

Xavier settles down on the other side of you, and Zayne sits beside him. Sylus takes a seat next to Rafayel with a huff, but he’s not half as unhappy as he’s pretending to be.

All of you sit in silence, gazes flitting between your window— where there are still glimpses of moving figures— and everyone else who’s been evacuated. For the first time all evening, the quiet isn’t tense. It’s peaceful. Easy.

“We’ll do better next time,” Zayne speaks softly.

Next time? You scoff. “Do any of you actually want there to be a next time?”

“I had fun,” Sylus chuckles. He’s taken his coin from his pocket, and he flips it, amusing himself.

“I had fun too,” Xavier grins.

“Cooking again, Xavier?” quips one of your neighbours, as they happen to pass by.

The man beside you laughs, but you can tell it’s forced. Your hand finds his; you give it a little squeeze, letting him know that it wasn’t his fault. His heart was in the right place. It’s always in the right place.

You nudge Rafayel away from you so you can sit up straighter, your free hand rubbing your arm, caressing prickled skin. You’re about to ask for a jacket when something heavy drapes over your shoulders. It’s a coat— still warm— and its owner is stood behind you; you didn’t even notice him get up.

“Thanks, Sylus,” you smile.

All eyes turn to you. What are they—?

Oh.

[tbaluver]

Santa Baby- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings: xavier x fem! reader, zayne x fem! reader, rafayel x fem! reader, sylus x fem! reader genre: smut + drabble summary: santa gives you the gift of pleasure the night before christmas a/n: hihi lovelies ! i'm trying out this new layout but literally just for the holidays bc i dunno if i can do this for each post lols ive seen so many of my fav writers do this on every fandom so this is inspo from them !! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ rest of my a/n will be down below (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

‘twas the night before christmas, fruitcake, peppermint candy canes or any holiday food could never compare to the taste of your cunt debunked by santa xavier.

the warm glow of the fireplace casted both your shadows on the walls, yet the room was ridiculously hot. both of your bodies were sweating in a tangled mess. xavier situates your legs around his head, trapping him to the spot he thirsted so much for.

your limbs trembled as he rubs soothing circles on your thigh as he admires your leaking cunt. you felt like a mess under him, yet he wouldn’t have it any other way.

one arm pressed down on your hips while the other was used to pump his fingers into you. your mind was dizzy, not knowing which to focus on. his mouth and fingers were doing wonders that created butterflies in your stomach.

you tug against his hair, earning a soft groan that sends vibrations over your cunt. he licks a wide stripe from your entrance and up to your clit, collecting your sweet juices on his tongue while keeping his eyes on you.

he pushes his tongue inside of you, groaning from your taste. you buck your hips up into the air but his arm around your hip gently pushes you back down on the carpet. his thumb rubs on your clit, making sure to apply the right amount of pleasure that causes you to moan in pleasure.

there is nothing xavier wants more for the holidays other than giving you pleasure. he knows exactly what to do to get that reaction out of you.

his tongue consistently draws patterns on your wet slick while occasionally sucking on your clit. you yelp out a moan when he inserts two fingers inside of you, groaning softly when he feels how tight you are as you clench around his fingers.

his fingers pump in and out of you, curling to reach your favorite spot before his tongue dives back in, sucking on your clit. you were a moaning mess below him, tugging onto his hair as you kept bucking your hips up. you felt that familiar coil building up on your stomach, your walls squeezing around his fingers.

he watches you with half lidded eyes as you release your load around his fingers. after you ride out your high, he removes his fingers out, sucking the juices of your cunt.

nothing comes close to you all year long

Zayne:

‘twas the night before christmas, the mugs of hot cocoa were left abandoned, growing cold. the plate of cookies was surprisingly left half eaten. stockings that you wore were found on the floor along with zayne’s and the rest of your clothing trailing up to the floor of the fireplace. santa zayne has arrived but he is not finished just yet.

zayne swears he saw the most beautiful angel ever. no, not the one on top of the tree but the one on top of him. tits bounced joyfully that made him feel like he was dizzy. your pussy clenched around him, milking every drop of him and yet he couldn't get enough. his cock rock hard as you slide up and down his length, taking every inch inside of him in your belly like the good girl you are. 

he swears the way you were dripping for him and the countless orgasms you’ve given each other, he might as well just keep you on the good list for your entire life if you kept doing this. his mind completely forgot that the reason this all started was that you were a naughty girl for trying to shake around the boxes under the tree. 

a small lazy smirk curled on the corner of his lips as he held you, helping you bounce on his cock. his eyes half lidded as he admires the markings that littered all over your body, each and every one of them illuminating from the lights of the tree.

he isn’t that far behind from you. he watches your eyes roll back and your mouth open wide. with a breathless moan of his name, signals him that you reached your orgasm which makes him do so as well. the clenching and pulsing of your walls around him sends another bucket loads of his cum painting your insides milk white.

you looked absolutely breathtaking. your movements were slow as you continue to bring yourself down from your high as you both catch your breaths. he gently pulls you down to rest comfortably in the crook of his neck, keeping himself plugged in you.

you both were lost in your own world until the chime of the clock struck midnight, breaking the silence between you both. you tilt your head slightly, your cheek still resting on his broad chest as he tenderly brushes your hair. with a small smile, zayne whispers, “merry christmas my love.”

Rafayel:

‘twas the night before christmas, the tree was decked out and full of presents, big and small but one particular present caught your eye. a present that was too big to gift wrap.

there stood your boyfriend with a christmas hat and nothing on but wrapping paper wrapped around his sculpted body, specifically wrapped around his cock.

“well aren’t ya gonna unwrap me cutie?” he winks, tilting his head.

wrapping paper scattered across the floor and it didn’t take long for your present to be up and running. effortlessly, it didn’t take him long for him to peel off your clothes.

you sank to your knees on his carpet, positioning yourself in front of the tree where he laid out pillows for you to be comfortable. before you point your ass up to the sky, you take one last look at the ornament in front of you that reflects rafayel pumping his cock behind you.

he admires the sight laid out before him, a smirk curling on the corner of his lips. grabbing the base of his dick, he rubs himself between your ass cheeks, his pre-cum dripping on your skin. he spreads you slowly, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips when he sees you arch yourself more to press yourself onto him.

rafayel sinks slowly into you, letting you feel every inch of his length and vein going inside of you. he lets out a soft groan as he looks down at the way his cock disappears into your tight cunt as he pushes himself deeper, earning a whiney moan from you.

he starts off with a slow tempo, letting you get used to his length before his hips start slamming against yours. his hands roam around your back while occasionally squeezing the plush of your ass. he knows he’s fucking you good from the way your moans sound.

“yeah just keeping takin’ all of me cutie, just like that,”

the mix of your words slur together, “‘s good raf- so good!”, along with every sound that escapes your pretty mouth as he watches your ass bounce back rhythmically against his pelvis was sending him to overdrive.

your moans were muffled from the way you were face down into the pillow, drools spilling out of the corners of your mouth as each thrust sent you closer to climax.

he held you firmly in pace, his hands gripped on your hips, feeling your gushy walls constrict his massive cock. the familiar coil was winding in your stomach as you chased your high, rafayel wasn’t that far behind you either.

with a few hard thrusts in your walls you came around his length, rutting your hips more to milk out his cock before your legs buckled out. his pace slows as thick ropes of cum release into you, his hips roll against your ass to make sure no drop goes to waste. he keeps himself plugged into you as he plants a trail of soft kisses down your face and neck.

luckily for you, santa made sure you get an extra present that following night. a two for one if you will.

Sylus:

‘twas the night before christmas, and santa sylus’s little helper has been so good to him that she deserved her special treat early.

he removes himself in between your thighs, your arousal dripping down to his chin as he admires you. your pussy glistened in the warm glow of the christmas lights and from the flickering fire of the fireplace, your folds slick with arousal.

christmas was around the corner and this early present was meant for you but it seems like his also came a little too early as well. but it wasn’t finished just yet. santa sylus had planned a few more rides down.

once you were ready, you felt his swollen tip nudge at your pretty pussy, slipping in nice and slowly just for you. your back arched on his soft, fluffy luxurious carpet, pressing your chest against his firmer. inch by inch you felt his thick length enter deeper and deeper earning soft grunts fall from his lips.

you rock your hips under his, signalling him that you were ready for him to move more. you wrap your legs around his hips as he gently holds the back of your thigh to keep you in place and the other on the rug.

slowly, he rocks his hips with yours, keeping a steady pace. he captures his lips. picking up the pace slightly. sloppy thrusts and hungry lips, attempting to devour you, made your brain go dumb. between his heavy strokes and sweet kisses, you managed to catch your breath

his lips met your against, melting into your touch. the sounds of lip and skin smacking fill the room along with the fire crackling in the fireplace.

his hand tightens on your thigh while the other grips the carpet as he fastens his pace. grunts and small whispers that are cut off in pants, invade your ear. “so..so good..”

your velvety walls were so welcoming and warm. every inch and every vein of his length can be felt inside of you as it drags along your tight walls. beads of sweat drop down his skin as he focuses on making you finish first but the belly bulge he was watching go in and out of you was not helping him.

butterflies swarm in your stomach as pure ecstasy reaches deep down within you. your back arched when the constant thrusts of his cock became too much. sylus joins you, thick white ropes of cum spurted deep inside your walls.

he keeps you close, your foreheads connecting as you both catch your breath. his hips eventually come to a halt but he makes sure to keep his hips locked with yours so his seed wouldn’t leak out of you.

that’s one present off your christmas list and many more surprises he has for you.

a/n: hihi again lovelies ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i moved it down here bc my entire yap is gonna cover the post ( • ᴖ • ｡) and before ANYONE mentions that this isn't giving santa baby from the song that's bc some parts are and some parts are not (ᵕ—ᴗ—) i referenced a lot of songs like nonesense christmas by sabrina, rocking around the christmas tree and just tried to use things from the holidays to make it smut related <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)> i wanted to get this in before christmas bc i know some of you guys are going into christmas eve rn ! i hope you guys have a merry christmas and a happy holidays !! ✧｡٩(ˊᗜˋ )✧*｡

special thanks to my beta readers again @ilovemitsuya @deusfoundry @justwinginglife ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖ !! mwah mwah ily all !!