#I hope everyone can still read after this...

[jackce]

I was commissioned by a mysterious person to work on 6 Prussia themed months 🖤🤍🖤 First is February was inspired by Valentines day ofc, but the main focus is Prussia's dissolution 😭 (That's a funeral flower arrangement, he's a prisoner after WW II and has just been informed of his fate) I wrote an small one shot in case you want to read it, it's Prussia's POV (English first / Español al final):

FEBRUARY

— The celebration is not on time, true, but you still have to look presentable.

I didn't ask what was so special about celebrating Valentine's Day on the 25th, in the Soviet Union they don't even celebrate that date, they said it's because it is a capitalist invention, but if you ask me, I think it's because they don't understand what love is.

Is not like I wasn't curious while they cut my hair the way it was when I arrived, while they shaved my beard and handed me a suit that could barely hide the kilos I've lost. But I learned the hard way not to open my mouth too much, something that I'm sure everyone who knows me would have wanted impossible. Ivan is miraculous, I suppose.

— You'll receive the visit you've been waiting for, see? I'm not as bad as you think — Still, Russia seemed eager to pique my curiosity.

"He's playing with me," I tried to convince myself. But when I mentioned it to Ukraine after she brought the first decent meal in years to my cell, she reacted with joy.

— It's your brother for sure!

She doesn't know, but even though my heart twisted with joy, the hope was painful.

But two years had passed already... And even though Russia had played me in other ways, it was the first time he tried too hard to make me look presentable, as if he wanted to cover up the dealings he's been having with me. "You're the only person who has a villain role and who he can vent to," Belarus had excused him once.

I tried not to think, but I still couldn't get rid of that bad habit. I was going to show myself to someone, that was for sure. But who? Maybe it wouldn't be one of us... Maybe just a politician, or even some errand boy. But... What if it was West?

Surely my brother had been asking about me all these years, if there's one thing he has, it's that he's tireless. I'm sure he hasn't given up, I'm sure this little meeting is the fruit of his efforts, just a glance to know that I'm fine, that despite the division of my territory, that every day I'm more just a name... I'm fine.

— I'm fine, West —I murmured to the broken mirror they lent me, joining the theater that Ivan wanted so much to present. Despite everything, I didn't want to worry Ludwig... I didn't want him to see me with pity.

— Let’s go. —Russia in person came for me, and for the first time in a long time I left my cell without chains or ties to hinder me.

He took me to a dining room where three places were set, my heart tortured me again when I confirmed that it was a visit.

Ivan asked me to sit down while he went to get the guest, he knows well that I no longer try to escape, besides, I don't want to escape, not now that I'll see...

— West... —I got up as soon as I heard the door open.

But it was just Russia, his victorious smile.

“I'm so sorry, it seems he's had other more important matters... But don't worry, he sent you a present.” He was hiding something behind his back, but I could see the flowers from there.

I managed not to make any expression, neither anger, nor shame, nor sadness, I wasn't going to give him the pleasure of knowing that his stab was accurate. Braginsky didn't wait for me to say anything and showed me the decoration of lilies and chrysanthemums. It was a wreath that followed the shape of a heart, a ribbon with my name crossed through the center...

I must have lost the ability to hide my emotions, because the smile of the man in front of me widened.

The funeral arrangement could only mean one thing...

... I'm not even a name anymore.

----

FEBRERO

— La celebración se atrasó un poco, sí, pero tienes que estar presentable. No pregunté qué tenía de especial celebrar San Valentín el 25. En la Unión Soviética ni siquiera celebran esa fecha, que por qué es un invento capitalista, pero si me lo preguntan creo que es por qué no entienden lo que es el amor. No era que no sintiera curiosidad mientras me cortaban el cabello a la manera en que lo tenía cuando llegué, mientras rasuraban mi barba y me entregaban un traje que poco podría disimular los kilos que he perdido. Pero aprendí por las malas a no abrir demasiado la boca, algo que seguro todos los que me conocen habrían creído imposible. Iván es milagroso, supongo. — Recibirás la visita que tanto esperabas ¿Ves? No soy tan malo como crees — Aun así Rusia parecía ansioso por pescar mi curiosidad. "Está jugando conmigo" intenté convencerme. Pero cuando se lo mencioné a Ucrania luego de que trajera a mi celda la primer comida decente en años, ella reaccionó con felicidad. — ¡Seguro que es tu hermano! Ella no lo sabe, pero aunque mi corazón se retorció por alegría, la esperanza fue dolorosa. Pero habían pasado ya dos años... Y aunque Rusia había jugado conmigo de otras formas, era la primera vez que se esforzaba demasiado por qué yo me viera presentable, como si quisiera tapar los tratos que ha estado teniendo conmigo. "Eres la única persona que tiene un papel de villano y con quién puede desahogarse", lo había excusado Bielorrusia una vez. Intenté no pensar, pero aún no lograba quitarme esa mala costumbre. Iba a mostrarme ante alguien, eso era seguro ¿Pero quién? Tal vez no fuera con uno de nosotros... Tal vez solo un político, o incluso algún recadero. Pero... ¿Y si si era West? Seguro que mi hermano había estado preguntando por mi todos estos años, si algo tiene él es que es incansable. Seguro que no se ha rendido, seguro que está pequeña reunión es fruto de sus esfuerzos, solo un vistazo para saber que estoy bien, que a pesar de la repartición de mi territorio, que cada día soy más sólo un nombre ... Estoy bien. — Estoy bien, West —Le murmuré al espejo roto que me prestaron, uniéndome al teatro que Iván tanto quería presentar. A pesar de todo, no quería preocupar a Ludwig... No quería que me viera con lastima. — Andando —Rusia en persona vino por mi, y por primera vez en mucho tiempo salí de mi celda sin cadenas o ataduras que me entorpecieran. Me llevó hasta un comedor donde estaban puestos tres lugares, mi corazón volvió a torturarme al confirmar que se trataba de una visita. Ivan me pidió que me sentara en lo que iba por el invitado, sabe bien que ya no intento escapar, además, no quiero escapar, no ahora que veré a... — West... —Me levanté en cuanto escuché que la puerta se abría. Pero solo era Rusia, su sonrisa victoriosa. — Lo siento mucho, parece que ha tenido otros asuntos más importantes ... Pero no te preocupes, te mando un regalo —Escondía algo tras su espalda, pero podía ver las flores desde allí. Conseguí no hacer ninguna expresión, ni rabia, ni vergüenza, ni tristeza, no iba a darle el gusto de saber que su puñal fue certero. Braginski no espero a que dijera nada y me mostró el adorno de lirios y crisantemos. Era una corona de flores que seguía la forma de un corazón, un listón con mi nombre atravesado al centro... Debí haber perdido la habilidad para ocultar mis emociones, por qué la sonrisa del hombre frente a mi se amplió. El arreglo fúnebre solo podía significar una cosa... ... Ya no soy ni siquiera un nombre.

[artficlly]

Hello lovely! I heard you were taking requests, so maybe bucky barnes x depressed reader hurt comfort. with requests “Let me see. Please, just let me help.” and “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” maybe just comforting reader or even reader SH (ONLY IF YOU FEEL COMFORTABLE!! )

Have a great day! ☕️🍪

burnout [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x reader when a mission goes wrong, you revert to bad habits, much to bucky’s dismay

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, !SELF HARM!, please do not read if sh triggers you!, angst, death, blood, wound descriptions, hurt/comfort, fluff near the end, protective bucky, established relationship, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: hi lovely, i hope this is okay and that you enjoy. ngl i totally forgot about the depressed!reader part until i had written this and reread your request soooo oops sorry this is a lot more SH heavy than i thought it would be. been in a weird mood recently so maybe that contributed, lol? planning to write a very cute and fluffy request after this one. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

------

You and Bucky had never said the ‘L’ word.

Love.

I love you.

Your relationship had always been strong, a quiet constant in your life. It had started slowly, lingering glances, late-night walks back from missions, casual coffee runs to the place Bucky swore had the best muffins in the city. ‘friend dates’, he’d call them. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things shifted. Maybe it was the night the two of you stayed up watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. reruns until dawn, only to wake up tangled together on the couch, too comfortable to move. Or maybe it started when you found yourself spending more nights at Bucky’s place than your own, helping him fumble through whatever mysterious recipe he’d picked from the new cookbook you gave him, only to end up dusted in flour, his handprints stamped like soft proof on your hips and waist. Or perhaps it was the moment he went dark on a mission, no comms, no updates, just a sinking feeling in your gut, and when he finally returned, stepping off a bullet-riddled quinjet, you kissed him in front of everyone. You didn’t care about the smug looks from the others. You were just relieved he was alive.

And now, sitting on the floor of your bathroom, knees hugged to your chest, contemplating the mess you’d made of yourself, of your career, of everything in the past twenty-four hours, you wondered if he ever could truly love you. 

You didn’t feel lovable. You felt like a failure, well and truly a fuck up of a human being. 

You knew Tony hadn’t meant the things he’d shouted at you during the debrief, not really, but that didn’t dull the sting. It didn’t quiet the echo of his words still reverberating through your bones. You knew the team was exhausted. Defeated. Grieving in the wake of a catastrophic mission. In your few short years as an Avenger, you’d already learned that for every victory, there were just as many failures, some more devastating than others. And deep down, you knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. You’d all been doomed from the start, ambushed, outnumbered, overwhelmed. It was a miracle any of you made it out alive.

Still, twelve didn’t.

Twelve agents, gone forever.

Twelve sets of eyes you had slowly watched fade, twelve bodies you watched grow blue and cold, twelve families who would never see their loved ones, twelve families who were likely receiving the news now. It hadn’t been enough.

You hadn’t been enough. 

You ran through it in your head endless times on the Quinjet back. You’d done everything you could. Pushed yourself to the brink until your magic sputtered and died, until your limbs trembled and your vision turned to stars. Until all you could do was fall to your knees and watch it happen. Watch them go.

You had tried desperately to explain in the debrief, practically pleading with Tony as the room turned into a warzone of insults and frustration. 

‘I can only be in so many places at once! There were too many. I did what I could, I tried, but my magic has limits. I have limits!’

Tony had stared you down with a look of disgust. He was still in his suit, dirt and blood smeared on his face, dust and grit gathered in his brows and beard. 

‘Yeah, well, if you can’t handle it, if you can’t keep up, maybe you shouldn’t be an Avenger at all.’ 

The air had vanished from the room in an instant. And in that silence, a part of you decided they all agreed with him, that they all hated you. The eight surviving agents sat motionless, watching the argument unfold with haunted thousand-yard stares. Even Natasha and Sam couldn’t quite meet your eye. 

‘Maybe we need another healer.’ Tony had spat, and your face had crumpled. ‘One who can handle what we’re asking of them.’

You barely registered Natasha’s voice, ‘You’re being too harsh, Tony’, as you fled the room, shame burning hotter than the tears you refused to let fall.

Now here you were, still stained with blood and filth, unable to breathe under the weight of it all.

You stared at the bathroom tiles, blinking through tears, chest aching like something was caving in from the inside. Every breath felt like a struggle, like your body didn’t want to keep going if your mind wouldn’t fight for it. You weren’t even sure when the small paring knife from the kitchen ended up in your hand. You’d taken it with you without thinking, without planning, like your body was moving on some quiet, desperate instinct.

You turned it over in your palm, watching how the metal caught the light.

It was a bad habit, you knew that. One you thought you’d buried years ago.

One of the first times you and Bucky had been intimate, he’d noticed the faint scars that lined your thighs and hips. The marks were in places no one was meant to see. You hadn’t expected to be seen. He had asked about them only once. 

‘What are these?’

You had answered honestly. ‘I was in pain. And I didn’t know how else to make it stop. Hurting myself was the only thing that made sense.’

He hadn’t judged you, hadn’t pulled away. His brow had furrowed, and in all his frustrating kindness and understanding, he had simply kissed them.

You wondered where Bucky was now. He hadn’t been on the mission, he was off helping Steve train the agents. You wondered how he’d react when he heard the news. When he learned that so many of the agents he’d personally trained were gone because you hadn’t been enough. Would he hate you for it? Pity you? Look at you with that same flicker of disgust Tony hadn’t bothered to hide?

Your hand shook as you raised the knife, but there was no hesitation. You pressed the blade to your wrist. A sob slipped out, trembling and thin, as the edge bit deeper, pain flared through your nerves, burning like fire. You squeezed your fingers into a fist, muscles twitching beneath the metal as if it were trying to shy away. You dragged the blade up your forearm vertically, watching how the blood welled up and spilt across your skin in a crimson rush.

You stopped only when you reached the crook of your elbow, breath hitching as you watched the blood drip onto the cold white tiles, pooling in the grout like spilt wine. The pain in your chest hadn’t lessened. If anything, it throbbed harder, your breathing ragged and shallow.

Your magic spluttered to life, hesitant and fragile after hours of overuse. You felt it in the searing coil deep in your gut, in the ache threading through your shoulders. You were moments away from collapse. A thin sweat clung to your brow, the salty sting mixing with tears as you pressed your thumb into the fresh wound you’d carved.

A sharp hiss escaped your lips as the flesh began to knit under your touch. Healing had never been painless. The manipulation of blood and bone was something unnatural, meant to be a weapon just as much as it was a remedy. Muscle pulled tight beneath your skin, twitching and resisting, as your magic forced the edges closed. By the time you reached the tender crook of your elbow, you were sobbing again, jaw clenched hard against the searing pain. But after one final pass, it was done. All that remained was a thin, raised scar tracing your forearm and the evidence of your lapse in the form of blood smeared across the tiles.

Your brow furrowed, and you struck again. You needed to feel it. You needed to understand. What was the point of surviving if you couldn’t prove your worth? If you couldn’t push past fear and failure? If you couldn’t protect the people who counted on you?

Your teeth ached from the pressure of your clenching jaw. Your head pounded, vision blurring at the edges. Still, you raised the knife again. Your skin was a patchwork now—angry, raw, blistered red with that fresh, pink scar where your magic had forced healing. You wanted to open it again. Just to feel. Just to remind yourself.

Your hands trembled. Your magic flickered weakly at your fingertips, barely more than a dying spark. Your body screamed for you to stop, muscles sluggish and mind thick with exhaustion, but you couldn’t hear it through the noise in your head.

You pressed the blade’s tip to your wrist.

And that’s when the apartment door slammed open.

“Hey!” Bucky’s voice called out, panicked. “Are you okay? I heard what happened—”

You froze.

Blood still warm, still trailing from your fingertips. The bathroom reeked of iron. You were crouched on the tiles, surrounded by red.

“Where are you?” he called again. “I know you’re home, your shoes are here—”

You scrambled to your feet, reaching blindly for a towel, anything to hide the mess. The knife clattered to the floor, the sound ringing like a gunshot in the stillness.

“Fuck—” you whispered.

Panic flared. Without thinking, you stumbled over your own feet, crashing to your knees as you tried to swing the bathroom door shut and lock it. But you were too late.

Bucky caught the door with ease, too fast for you to react. His eyes found you instantly, pale, shivering, feverish, crouched in a pool of blood. His expression shattered into alarm.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, breath catching in his throat.

“Shit,” he breathed, voice cracking. “Sweetheart.”

You let out a sob and folded forward, clinging to him like he was the last safe thing left in the world. His arms came around you without hesitation, cradling you against his chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—” you gasped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do—I didn’t mean—”

“Shhh. I know,” he whispered, fingers threading into your hair, anchoring you. “I’ve got you. You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”

Your face buried into his shirt, the warmth of his body soothing your fraying nerves as sobs tore out of you, raw and helpless. Shame burned beneath your skin like acid. You couldn’t hide, not from him, not like this.

“I’m here,” he whispered again into your hair. “I’ve got you.”

You shook your head. “You don’t want this. I’m a mess, Buck. I’m broken—”

“You’re not broken,” he said fiercely. “You’re hurting. There’s a difference.”

Bucky didn’t move for a moment. Just stared down at you, breath caught somewhere between panic and heartbreak. His hands hovered, unsure of where to touch, not wanting to hurt you more than you already had. But then you looked up at him, shoulders trembling, and his instinct kicked in. 

“Let me see,” he begged, voice rough. “Please, just let me help.”

Shame curled through your stomach as you drew your arm from behind your back, presenting the angry scar like a guilty confession. He didn’t flinch at the sight of the scar, nor the raw magic still flickering faintly beneath your skin like dying embers. His touch was impossibly gentle as he took your wrist in both hands, his thumb brushing the raised edge. You watched his expression twist, not in disgust, but in something quieter. Sadder.

“You healed it yourself?” he asked hoarsely. “Shit, sweetheart… You’re burning yourself out doing this. You already feel like you’ve got a fever, your magic’s drained, you’re shaking—”

“I have to,” you interrupted, voice brittle. “I need to push further. I need to suffer like they did. I need to feel it. Otherwise, how do I understand how I failed? How do I carry their pain if I don't take some of it into myself?”

He froze, as if your words physically struck him.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” his voice cracked. “Driving yourself into the ground just to prove you're useful? That you care? Everyone knows that you do your best, that you care more than any of us.”

You looked away. This was different. This wasn’t just exhaustion from overcasting. You cut this time. You bled. You fused your magic with an act you couldn’t explain, not even to yourself.

And now, even the scar throbbed with shame.

“You’ve always done this,” he went on, softer now. “Pushing your limits. Refusing to rest. Like every ounce of pain you feel somehow makes up for what you think you did wrong. But this…” He looked down at the mark again, his jaw tightening. “This is different. This isn’t just burning yourself out. You hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you choked, the words scraping up your throat. “It just…”

“You think suffering will make you worthy,” he said, quietly but firmly. “But you’re already worthy. And pain isn’t proof. It’s not some punishment you earn for failing.”

Your lip trembled. “It feels like it is.”

He gently reached up and cupped your cheek with a scarred hand, tilting your face toward him.

“I know that feeling,” he said. “Trust me, I know it better than anyone. But this isn’t the way. You don’t have to destroy yourself to prove something we all already know, that deep down you are a kind and caring person who works so incredibly hard to make sure we all return home safe.”

Your tears returned with fresh force, hot and relentless. You leaned into his palm when he cupped your cheek.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you choked out.

“I needed to,” he whispered. “So I could be here. So I could help.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You just made a soft, broken sound and let yourself fall into his arms again.

“C’mon,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

He helped you up gently, arms steady as your legs threatened to give out. You were still shivering and pale. Feverish from the overuse of magic. He turned on the bath and tested the temperature.

“Let’s get you out of these,” he said gently, voice barely above a whisper.

You let him undress you with careful hands, peeling the soiled clothes from your skin one piece at a time. The fabric clung stubbornly in places, stiff with blood. Your own, and that of the agents you couldn’t save. You tried not to think about that, tried not to see their faces. Bucky said nothing as he kicked the clothes aside, but you saw the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of pain in his eyes. You swallowed hard against the lump rising in your throat.

The bath burned as you sank into it, but beneath the sting was something else, relief. The kind that reached deep into your bones, unravelling the numbness that had wrapped around your limbs like ice. You exhaled shakily, sinking lower into the water as the steam curled around your face.

Bucky knelt behind you on a folded towel, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He reached for your shampoo without asking, your favourite one, the expensive kind you only used on special occasions. You glanced back, surprised.

He caught your eye and offered a soft, crooked smile. “The one you wear to parties,” he murmured. “Smells like heaven. Drives me crazy every time.”

“You remember that?” you asked, blinking at him.

He gave a soft laugh. “I’ve watched you do this a hundred times.”

It was true, you always took longer than him to get ready. He never minded. He’d lean in the doorway, smirking or pretending to sigh dramatically like some love-struck puppy while you did your makeup. You’d catch his gaze through the mirror as you smoothed on your lipstick, always choosing the brightest shade so that it would leave a mark on his cheek when you kissed him. And he would linger too close under the guise of helping, fingertips grazing up your arms as you asked him to zip your dress, his calloused hands pausing a moment too long at the nape of your neck when he swept your hair aside to clasp a necklace. He touched you like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to, like every moment near you was something he didn’t want to end.

His fingers worked the shampoo through your hair in slow, soothing circles, like he had all the time in the world. The scent of lavender bloomed in the steamy air, wrapping around your frayed nerves like a balm. He rinsed, then repeated with conditioner, combing gently through each tangle with care.

The rhythmic motion lulled you. Your head dipped forward, eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion tugged at you like a tide. You forced your hand to move, dragging a washcloth over your limbs just to stay conscious, present. Bucky didn’t speak, not really, just soft hums under his breath, the occasional brush of his knuckles down your spine to let you know he was still there.

By the time the water had cooled and your skin was no longer flushed with fever, he helped you stand. Your legs trembled beneath you like a newborn deer, unsteady and aching, and you sagged into the towel he wrapped around your shoulders. 

“I’ll find you something comfortable,” he said as he helped guide you back to your room.

You dressed slowly, your skin prickling with fresh warmth. When you stepped into the kitchen, wearing one of his old sweatshirts that reached mid-thigh and a pair of fluffy socks.

But it was the sight that greeted you in the kitchen that nearly undid you.

Bucky was standing at the counter, flipping through one of your old cookbooks, the one you’d dog-eared and tabbed over the years with sticky notes and scribbles. He was studying every note you'd left in the margins.

The lump returned to your throat.

“I figured we’d eat in bed,” he said casually, glancing up when he sensed you hovering near the island. “Watch something dumb. That sound good?”

You nodded, your throat tight. “Yeah. That sounds… good.”

He turned to look at you, really look at you. Something in his expression shifted, softened. Without a word, he crossed the room and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You melted into him. Arms wrapped tightly around his waist like he was the only thing tethering you to the world.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you had the sense to stop yourself. You didn’t look up, couldn’t.

For a heartbeat, you braced for the silence. For the stillness he sometimes slipped into when feelings got too loud.

But it never came.

Instead, he held you closer, his lips brushing the crown of your head as he voiced a low murmur against your damp hair.

“I love you more.”

[ahundredtimesover]

Something About You (05) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: friends au, vacation au, slow burn, romcom-ish vibe; adulting; inspired by AYS; PE teacher!JK and researcher!OC; fluff, comfort, smut (?)

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption, minor injuries (18+)

Word count: 22.1k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series Summary: You and Jungkook have been friends for a decade. And while he’s the charming and dependable, often reserved boy-next-door, he’s also just been a friend - a constant in your life, a part of a whole, and someone who’s seen all the flawed and probably unattractive sides of you.

A resumption of your friend group’s out-of-town trips has caused you to spend more time with him. And somewhere in between the morning coffee in the forest, running around in the snow, and watching the sunset on a boat, he’s become something more. And you’re not quite sure how to deal with it.

🎶: Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney || Yes or No by Jungkook

A/N: This is a long one! If you're reading this, I hope you feel the flutter of butterflies and that warmth I felt while writing. ☺️ And definitely listen to  Beautiful Soul and Yes or No!

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”

You turn to Jungkook with a questioning look, waiting to see if he’ll change his mind. He’s been the one driving whenever you have a trip and you offered to be the one to drive both of you to the airport this time but he refused. While you know he enjoys this, you thought it might be nice to let him rest even a little bit.

“You’ve had a long day.”

“So have you,” he answers. “And you know I don’t mind. You can just sleep during the drive and then again during the flight.”

You pout again because of his refusal to accept your offer but you let him and no longer argue. Perhaps it’s what he needs after the day he’s had.

It’s a Thursday and there’s a long weekend ahead, which is why this trip to Jeju was scheduled at this time. Taehyung leaves for New York in three weeks and Seokjin and Hayoung are getting married in two months. This is the perfect time to get the group together again before the three of them go through major life changes, and none of you would miss it for the world. 

You had a Board presentation that you couldn’t miss in the afternoon and Jungkook had classes until 3 PM, which then extended because of a parent meeting he had to attend. It’s why both of you had to book the later flight while everyone else flew in at noon. They sent a photo of all of them gathered by the pool at the rented house, and you couldn’t wait to finally clock out and switch off so you could relax and enjoy, too, even for just a few days.

Jungkook instructs you to buckle your seatbelt then heads off, undoubtedly tired but still alert and cautious while driving. You look at him and try to see if something’s different, if this really is the same man you’ve known for years. You look away at the reminder that yes, he is, and he’s not the one that’s changed. It’s probably you.

“Everything okay?” He asks as he glances at your direction.

“Yup,” you answer too quickly. “Just… you know, tired and excited.”

“Take a nap then,” he suggests. “Time will fly by and we’ll be at the airport and then in Jeju before you know it.”

“I’m fine. I can, uh, keep you company or something,” you shrug. “You kinda don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t mind it,” he says, the little dip on his cheek forming as he smiles.

Has he always looked this charming?

You shake your head as if to snap out of it. 

It’ll take an hour to get to Incheon. You feel like you’d miss out if you slept and you internally scold yourself because a month ago, you totally would’ve dozed off right away. 

Well, not this time. But even if it’s your own choice to stay up, you suppose that the universe was still playing with you because of all the times to be stuck with Jungkook, it just had to be now when your heart has been acting a little too weird.

It started right after the college reunion party almost two weeks ago. You had him sleep over at your place after some asshole busted his lip, and that’s when the thoughts of possible feelings started invading your mind. You blame Jimin, really, and you’d contemplated on keeping your distance from Jungkook to sort yourself out but that’s impossible given this trip.

It didn’t help that you promised his students you’d watch their final taekwondo match - which they won - so you spent last Saturday with him, too. 

Your heart still kept doing that thing, especially whenever you found your eyes locked on him even if he wasn’t even the one on the mat. You went out to dinner after that, and you couldn’t help but pay attention - to the way he cooked your samgyeopsal the way you wanted, to how he made sure you always had them on your plate, to how he held off the perilla leaf for you so you could peel it off. 

Suddenly, everything he did made you smile, like how he kept scolding himself for eating so much and then cutely asking if you were okay to wait in line with him at this pop-up dessert store. 

So many things also started to seem attractive to you, like the way he stood during the match with his hands in his pockets and the way he combed his hair with his fingers after he removed his baseball cap. Even the way he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel while he drove became quite hypnotizing, just like right now, and you’re unsure where all these thoughts are coming from. Or if they’ll stop.

“So, how was your meeting with the Board?” He asks, disrupting your visions of him.

“Long,” you chuckle sarcastically. “The world’s in shambles and we have to be strategic in deciding which research projects to move forward with since funding is scarce. And you, how was your meeting with the parents?”

“Productive,” he hums. “I stepped out then met with their son. We were playing catch then I bought him ice cream then he opened up. I think we’re getting somewhere.”

Jungkook had mentioned one of his students has been displaying aggressive behaviors and wouldn’t talk to anyone apart from him. He realized early on in his teaching career the weight of his responsibility as an educator, and that just because he taught PE, it doesn’t mean he was limited to just sports or physical health. 

As it turned out, he’s very relatable to his students, and perhaps his laid-back and placid nature has a lot to do with that. It’s what prompted him to read more research and watch documentaries on adolescent mental health and how sports could help with managing it. 

You’ve been directing him to the appropriate resources and even linked him up with a professional who could speak to the faculty regarding child development so it’s a topic you’ve been talking about more. He tells you about their email exchange until he says that neither of you will be talking about work this weekend.

So you tell him about the sci-fi horror film you watched with Mo-eum last night and how you were both screaming at the same time then just ended up laughing at each other. Jungkook says she’s more of a scaredy-cat than you are but you express fear much more openly and you agree. 

“I heard we can set up an outdoor movie theater in the house,” he smirks at you. “We have a couple of options.”

“Jimin’s gonna push me away again if I scream in his ear,” you frown. 

“I won’t,” he says nonchalantly, and you have to pretend to yawn so you don’t have to keep looking at him without saying anything back. 

What’s that supposed to mean anyway? You try to recall if he’s also always been this bold and you’re just getting affected now, but it gives you a headache so you change the subject.

You end up talking about where you’re gonna be eating in Jeju and memories of your first trip there as a group a few  years ago. 

And so time flies. You’re parking at the airport carpark before you know it. You check in at the counter then enter the departure area. It’s when your stomach starts to grumble that you drag Jungkook around to find some snacks that you feel like having. You find a stall that sells various kinds of croquettes, kind of like the ones you had in Japan a few months ago.

You’re wiggling in excitement and so is he. Cheese was his favorite and though it’s not the same, you’re both happy that they at least look like it. 

You buy some drinks and find a spot and begin trying each type you got. He bites one then feeds it to you; you bite one then feed it to him, too. It feels natural, as this is something both of you have definitely done before and you never minded. But now, you have to force your brain to stop overthinking things just so you don’t start acting weird because of it. 

It’s when you’ve both decided your favorite flavors that your phone starts to ring. You pick up the video call and see your friends on the screen, showing you the barbecue and dinner set up in the property’s outdoor space. Mo-eum’s voice goes through, saying that there’s a feast waiting for you and Jungkook when you arrive. Seeing the table now, your eyes widen at the quality and quantity of meat and vegetables laid out. 

“We’ve got ramen, lots of beer, so many snacks… Jungkook’s gonna go wild in here,” she adds. 

“I’m already drooling,” he tells her.

Your older friends greet and tell you to get there quick as the phone gets passed around. Finally, it reaches Jimin and Taehyung, who both surface from the pool and proceed to ask you and Jungkook where you are and what you’ve been doing. 

“Eating,” you answer with your mouth half-full. “I found this stall and they sell croquettes that remind me of the ones from the rest stop going to the ski resort. It’s so goo–”

“Yah,” Jungkook disrupts you with a nudge on your arm. 

You turn to your side to face him. “What?”

He takes a piece of napkin and wipes the sticky sauce that you didn’t realize has dripped on your hoodie. Your eyes follow his hand that tries to remove the stain, and just as you’re about to sweetly thank him, he flicks your nose to tease, catching you completely off guard. You shriek in surprise and smack his chest, which is your natural response to something like that. 

You glare at him but your facade breaks when he scrunches his nose in amusement. 

“Dude, wipe your mouth,” he scolds. “Do I have to wipe the crumbs off you, too?”

“What?” you ask, brushing them off with your fingers.

You take his phone and open the camera to assess your face. Once you’ve cleaned yourself, you snap a photo and return the device on the table.

“Did you just take a picture?” He groans. 

“Yup,” you flutter your eyelashes. 

Jungkook sees that it’s a silly face and decides to send it to your group chat of five to tease, though he doesn’t deny the giddiness he feels at the act. 

It’s something you’d totally do. He’s seen random photos of you in Jimin’s and Taehyung’s photo album and you always say that maybe one of their cute friends sees it and asks for your number or something, but you say none of that to him this time.

“Wow, the one time Kook sends a text, it’s a picture of ___,” Taehyung laughs, earning him a glare from the said man. 

But you don’t seem bothered. Jungkook’s unsure if you even heard it over Jimin’s giggling and the laughter in the background, but it’s enough for him to text his friend to shut up, earning him a chuckle this time.

You talk a bit with Hayoung and she reminds you of the instructions upon your arrival. It’s not long after when you drop the call and start heading towards the gate. 

You don’t wait too long but during that period, you start feeling the exhaustion from the day. You know you’re gonna need to sleep during the flight so you could have enough energy to keep up with your friends for the rest of the evening. You’re definitely gonna make sure to make the most out of this trip to celebrate your cousin and soon-to-be cousin-in-law and of course, to savor your time with Taehyung before he leaves again. 

You’ll do your best to not overthink this whole Jungkook thing for now and decide to just be natural about everything. You don’t want him thinking that something’s wrong if you start acting differently because you know yourself - if he asks, you’ll most likely say something and you’re unsure if you’re ready for what will happen after. 

The call for boarding is announced and you follow Jungkook’s lead to the plane. He sits on the window seat like last time, and you’re reminded of the Japan trip again and how he made sure you got to sleep properly during the flight. 

It’s a smaller aircraft this time and a shorter flight time so you won’t need to lie on his lap or anything. But the thought of being alone with him makes you a little nervous so you try to talk about something to make sure you balance out all the times that you’ll be lost in your thoughts of him.

“Those croquettes were good but the ones at that rest stop were still superior,” you sigh.

“Yeah. That was seriously one of the best things I’ve ever eaten,” he hums, reminiscing about that trip, which he tends to do a lot because of you.

“Do you ever just think about that trip, Kook?” You ask as you gaze out the window and watch the sky change colors. “Do you miss it and wish you were back?”

“I do,” he hums, downplaying it a little. If you only knew. “I miss the food, the snow, the long drives… There’re lots of great memories from that trip.”

“I miss those bits, too,” you smile. “You still have the whiskey I got you?”

“Yup, barely touched.”

“What! I thought you liked it!”

“Exactly,” he points out. “So I have to savor it. I can only get it from that town, and during the Christmas season, and the chances of me going there again are slim. Plus, you gave that to me and you’ve never given me anything. It’s like, a memento–”

“Of our friendship?” You say mindlessly. 

You internally smack yourself because though you could sometimes be a dense person like your friends say - and only because you’re used to expressing your feelings and attraction first, as you like to argue - you’re not that dumb. You’re worried that you just drew a hard line by saying the F word but then again, why is that such a concern to you?

You realize he hasn’t replied and it’s been a few seconds already so you slowly turn to him. He meets your eyes and says that it is, then gives you a soft smile before he looks out the window. 

Jungkook wouldn’t describe that exchange as him being friendzoned. As the optimist that he is, he’d like to think that your gift to him meant that much to you, too. 

You’re the one who offered to get it for him and insisted it was a gift. After years of being friends, that was the first time you’d ever given him anything, and whatever it means, there was a change somehow. That’s a bottle that always brings a smile to his face whenever he opens his liquor cabinet and sees it. He’ll definitely keep it there for as long as he can.

You return your gaze out the window and glance at him. You’re glad that the gift means that much to him. You have the snow globes on the shelf by your desk and whenever you see them, you’re reminded of the snow-covered towns and the warmth from that whole week. 

More recently, you think about the mornings where you watched Jungkook from the passenger seat as he navigated the icy roads. You think about your conversations and how he gave you a piggyback ride and then treated your sore muscles.

He has always been a good friend so you’re not wrong to describe that gift as a memento of your friendship. You know that what you share is something you deeply treasure, but you also wonder if it means the bond has strengthened then, or if somewhere along the way, it started to feel something more. 

The plane takes off and Jungkook turns to you, looking every bit comfortable and comfy with his oversized hoodie and beanie. He gestures towards his shoulder, offering it to you.

“You sleep,” you say softly, knowing how tired he is, too. 

“I will,” he yawns, sinking further down his seat and leaning on the window, his eyes slowly falling.

You nod, knowing that it’s the more natural thing to do. So you take your pillow to hug then lean on Jungkook’s shoulder, immediately finding a position that doesn’t strain your neck. 

But your arms are a bit too awkward being in each other’s way and you see him adjust his. He slightly lifts it and you take the hint, wrapping your arms around his arm instead like an added pillow. 

Now this feels natural, as you feel him settle himself more comfortably next to you and you do the same. You suppose that’s how it is with people you’ve known for years - you just adapt and accommodate each other. You manage the exhaustion and inconveniences and just figure out how to make things comfortable and fun. 

You know it’s always been like this with Jungkook and you think back to these past months and how it’s been easier, more enjoyable, and something you keep searching for. 

Maybe this is what it’s like to pay attention to your feelings. Because as you snuggle closer and he pulls you in, your hand brushes against his, and then the sudden urge to hold it fills you up inside.

You wake up from your hour-long nap feeling only a tiny bit better. You wish there was more time, but you’re also not sure if it’s because of the need for more sleep or something else.

Jungkook still looks tired, but he sits up and pats your head, then asks if you slept well. You nod as you take a deep breath and there’s a moment where you just look at each other, still in your own little world of comfort and peace.

He breaks it and curiously looks around, and you ask him what he’s looking for.

“Trying to see if there are angry passengers who might’ve been disturbed by the snoring from these seats,” he purses his lips.

It takes a few seconds for you to process what he means, and you smack his chest when you do.

“Hey, I didn’t say it was you. It could’ve been me,” he defends.

“Yeah, you do snore quite loudly,” you hum. “But apparently not much when you’re not comfortably in bed. Maybe I’m the same.”

“True. Well, no one’s giving us the death glare so I think we’re clear.”

You just laugh at him in response then get ready to deplane.

You get your bags from the carousel quite quickly and you immediately find your driver holding up a sign with your names. You get inside the car and once you start moving, you open your window to feel the wind blow on your face. It’s the last month of spring and it’s the kind of coolness that you think is perfect for this island life. It’s chilly but not too much. The sun is bearable and gives the right amount of warmth. 

Jungkook glances at you as you enjoy the evening breeze. You’ve both just arrived but it’s felt like a dream since he’s been with you, especially when you cuddled with him on the plane. It felt bittersweet that he was exhausted. He at least didn’t completely lose his mind from the giddiness, but he also wished he could’ve savored it more. 

Still, he’s not one to complain. He gave the opening but you’re the one who moved closer. He decides that maybe that’s how he’ll go about these four days.

You arrive at the house in less than half an hour and you could already hear all the noise that your friends are making. Hoseok is the one who opens the gate and excitedly greets you. 

You enter the property and are in awe with how it’s set up. There are two houses perpendicular to each other. There’s a pool on the left side and in the center of it all is an area with trees and hammocks, a small fire pit, the barbecue grill, and picnic tables. 

You try to take it all in in the midst of hugging all your friends and trying to tell them how your flight went. 

“We just… slept,” you answer as most of them gather around you. “Neither of us snored. I think.”

“There were no complaints so I think we were fine,” Jungkook adds. 

“So, how did you sleep?” Jimin whispers in your ear. “Was it your head on his lap, his head on your lap? Or did you just lean on his shoulder? Did he– ow, fuck!”

You glare at him as you let go of the tiny sliver of skin you just pinched.

“You’re a brat,” you groan.

“And you’re being sensitive,” he bites back. 

“Yah! Can we not have fights during this farewell and pre-wedding party, please?” Taehyung calls you and Jimin out as he walks closer.

“She pinched me! And I literally just asked her a question,” Jimin complains. 

“What was the question?” Taehyung seems curious now. 

“How they slept.”

Taehyung looks at you with wide, even more curious eyes. “Ooh, was it like this?”

He takes out his phone and shows you a picture of Jungkook with a peace sign on an airplane and then there’s… you. Sleeping on his lap. This was during the flight to Sapporo when you were so tired and sleepy. You didn’t realize there was a photo of this moment.

“Where’d you get this?” You ask.

“In the shared photo album of the trip, duh,” he answers. “Mo-eum took it and saved it there.”

“Why is it saved on your photo album?” 

“Because she sent it to me right after she took it. She thought it was cute,” Taehyung shrugs. “Don’t you remember seeing this?”

“I might’ve… But like, we had hundreds of pictures. I guess I just… swiped past it,” you say, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to remember if you’d seen it and what you felt that time. 

“Yeah, because you weren’t really paying attention back then,” Jimin points out. “So, answer the question.”

“I… leaned on his shoulder,” you finally say. “Just like how I do with both of you!”

“Sure, it’s totally the same,” Jimin says while rolling his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Jiminie,” you whine. “Hug me.”

“You’re such a baby,” he groans, but proceeds to hug you because he always does, and he knows it’s what you need right now. “You can also hug Kook, you know?”

“No, I’m shy.”

“When were you ever shy with affection?”

“Never, that’s why I’m hugging you instead.”

“Are you… crushing on him?” He gasps. “Like, for real?”

“Shut up. This is all your fault. You put ideas in my head.”

“Hey,” he says, pulling away to look at you. He cups your face with his hands, urging you to meet his eyes. “I asked a question that time because of the conversation we were having. I floated an idea and if it got you thinking, great. But don’t be carried away by what I said, okay? It’s about what you feel.”

“Yeah, and I’ve been paying attention, like you said,” you pout. 

“And?”

“I snuggled close to him and it felt nice,” you say softly with your head bowed down, somehow shy about everything you’re revealing to your best friend.

“That’s good then,” Jimin smiles now as he tilts your chin to face him. “Maybe you’re still figuring things out or letting things progress over time or you’re making sure that it’s all genuine. And that’s fine. That’s… kinda what happens in non-whirlwind romances. Not that that’s bad but… you know what I mean.”

“I do,” you sigh. “But yeah. I don’t wanna act too differently because I don’t want him to ask me if anything’s wrong because I might blurt it all out.”

“Well, he’s gonna ask you either way with how you’re freaking out,” Jimin says, gesturing to the side when you look at him confused. “He was glancing at you looking worried. He might think something’s up.”

“Ugh. Why is he so attentive,” you whine. 

“Well, someone has to be when it comes to you.”

You make a face and before you can say anything more, Yoongi disrupts the conversation and tells you to bring your things inside and dress up because your dinner is almost ready.

“Thank you, uncle,” you hum, hugging him tightly.

You hear him groaning in response because it’s Yoongi and he’ll always make that reaction before hugging you back. 

“Go. The meat’s perfect when it’s just off the grill,” he says.

“Yes, uncle!” you yell before heading inside with your luggage.

But of course, Jungkook catches up to you and asks you if you’re okay.

“Yup. I just had to release my last remaining negative energy about this afternoon’s meeting to Jimin and now they’re all gone,” you lie. “I am going to just have fun these next few days and… go with the flow.”

“Sounds good,” Jungkook smiles. “So uh, they suggested getting our swimsuits on so we could go straight into the pool after. Otherwise we’d be too full to change.”

“Yeah, we should,” you hum. “Can I get in first?” You gesture towards the bathroom.

“Sure. I can dress up in the other bathroom. Want me to bring your bag up already?”

“Oh, okay. Let me just grab my stuff.”

You get your bathing suit and a cover up then get changed. You wash your face and tell yourself to just get it together and enjoy yourself while spending time with Jungkook and maybe that’ll make things clearer for you. 

You open the door and shriek in surprise, as right outside the door is Jungkook, checking something in the cupboards… in nothing but his black swim shorts. 

His taut arm is in view, and when he turns to face you with a questioning look, so are his toned chest and abs. You forget sometimes how built he is underneath all the oversized clothing and that this is literally the body you snuggled to earlier, just with clothes on.

And now that you have this little crush, everything about him is now magnified. Has he always been this… hot?

“I didn’t even scare you,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I was going to but I was worried you’ll fall back and hit your head on the floor.”

“Wow, thanks for looking after my wellbeing,” you say sarcastically. 

“Of course. That’s very important,” he smiles and pats your head, which again is a normal thing he does. But when he’s half naked doing it, you suppose you don’t blame your heartbeat for racing the way it’s doing now. 

You walk back outside together and you scurry towards the picnic table, forcing your spot between Hayoung and Seokjin. You decide right then that taking a break from looking at or being near Jungkook’s bare body is the better choice, at least during dinner. 

But that doesn’t mean you don’t glance at the pool area where he is because you do, and he just happens to be playing with the water guns with Jimin and Taehyung. You hear his child-like laughter, which is a contrast to the way his body flexes in response to the water. It’s already giving you a whiplash.

The conversation you’re currently having is at least entertaining, so you’re able to focus on this and not on the suddenly-so-handsome half-naked man not far away. 

Until, of course, Yoongi calls him over because dinner is ready, and Jungkook rushes towards where you are, quickly wipes himself dry, then takes the seat between Namjoon and Suhyeon that they offered. Right in front of you. Yoongi places a platter of grilled meat and vegetables on the table while Seokjin passes two bowls of rice. 

Jungkook’s hair is quite damp and there are beads of water sliding down his very visible chest and you find yourself being hypnotized by how he looks that you don’t hear him calling your name.

“Hmm?” You finally shift your gaze to his face.

“I was calling you,” he says. “What are you even looking at?”

“You took all the meat with fat,” you frown, lying like it’s second nature. 

You take some pieces from his plate and he laughs at your expression.

“What did you want?”

“I was gonna ask if you wanted beer,” he shrugs.

“Yes,” you smile. “And a bottle of soju, please.”

He nods and jogs towards the cooler then returns with exactly what you asked for. You get back to eating, feeling like you’re in heaven with how perfectly the meat is cooked. You sing your praises to Yoongi, who says his joy in life is making sure his friends are fed with good food all the time. 

There’s a lot of laughter and singing to accompany your meal. Mo-eum takes you around the property when you finish, saying how much prettier it is when the sun’s out. When you feel like you’ve digested enough, you head to the pool where the rest of your friends are hanging out.

“Obligatory rock-paper-scissors match underwater!” Taehyung yells. “Loser drinks a cup of my brother’s terrible concoction. Seriously, it sucks so don’t lose.”

It takes a while before it registers that he’s talking to you and Jungkook as the latecomers. Everyone has played and five already had the drink, so both of you make your way to the pool. 

You moan at the feel of the warm water and you’re glad you didn’t pass up on the night swim. With the soft music and your friends laughing about, it’s the kind of vibe that you’ve been needing, nevermind that you have to sit on the pool floor in front of Jungkook, play a game, then get smacked on the cheek every time you lose. One side is see-through, so your friends watch you from there.

You try your best to act naturally around him, so you bicker and whine like you normally do. It’s a best of seven and he’s up, 3 - 0, needing only one more win. But you score on the next game and in your excitement, you smack his face a little too hard. 

You're surprised with how forceful you were, so you surface from the water and he follows after you. Your hand is still on his cheek and you’re apologizing immediately, palming the spot and asking if he’s okay. Your friends are laughing hard and you giggle while also looking apologetic. 

“What did I do to you?” He wails, as he places his hand on top of yours. “I was hitting you so softly!”

“I know but I got excited!” You reason. “And your cheeks are so soft and so smackable.”

“Wow. Thanks,” he deadpans.

You laugh in response and say you’ll give up the point as punishment, making him the winner, but he insists that he can keep playing and you might even win. 

You mask your giddiness over him pulling you back with his fingers with a look of competitiveness and resume the game. You score the next one but he gets a point after you, and you concede immediately. He’s always been good at this game anyway.

He follows you out of the pool and you get the cup that Taehyung hands you. You smell it and gag, but you take the penalty and take a sip. You gag even more and Jungkook asks you how it is.

“Terrible,” you wince, making him smell the cup until he’s drinking it himself.

“Oh, that’s torture,” he says. “I can drink it for you.”

“But I lost.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs.

“I drink half and you drink the rest,” you offer, and he nods in agreement.

He follows through, earning you boos from your friends who say that you didn’t fully honor the punishment, including Jimin who’s smirking at you while doing so. 

You wave them off and say that you’re too tired to finish all that on your own and they let you off the hook.

“Okay, I’m eating something to get that taste off my mouth and my memory,” you groan as you walk down the stairs to go to the eating area.

You start looking around but then you hear Jungkook nearby, saying that there’s Samanco in the freezer. You follow him but stay outside because you’re dripping wet, whereas he seems to have wiped himself before coming down so he enters the house and grabs the red bean flavored fish ice cream. 

“Here,” he says, tearing it open then handing it to you.

“What about you?”

“There’s only one left. They said there wasn’t enough at the store. I don’t need to eat.”

“Have a bite at least,” you offer.

“Fine,” he says, letting you feed him as you push the ice cream towards his mouth.

You watch him as he takes a bite, then you meet his eyes without meaning to do so. He briefly holds your gaze and for a moment, you get lost in it, suddenly feeling this odd mix of shyness and tension that you’ve never felt before. It’s mostly because you’re rarely shy about how you feel but more than that, you’ve never felt this around any of your friends before, and Jungkook is one of them. So this is very… new.

He moves the ice cream away and you come back to your senses. You take a few bites then offer him another one then he lets you eat the rest until it’s all finished. You don’t even realize you both have just been standing there in one corner until you hear Mo-eum yelling your names, so you quickly get back to the group and explain that you just had ice cream.

You return to the water and just soak yourself. You stay with Mo-eum and Jimin on one end, while Jungkook is with Namjoon and Taehyung as they headbang to the music on the other. The rest of your friends are either wading their feet or sitting on the lounge chairs but it’s all good fun. 

Yoongi finally gets up to announce that it’s just past 12 AM and he’s gonna get some sleep, and you reminisce about that one trip you had where most of you were still swimming in the pool and it was 1 AM. 

“Yeah because you drank so much and passed out at 8, then woke up at 11 PM demanding us to swim with you,” Jungkook reminds you. “Then you fell asleep on the floatie.”

Everyone laughs at the memory but you scowl at him and act angry in the midst of stories being shared about that time. 

“Why are you so far from him?” Jimin whispers in your ear while gesturing towards Jungkook. 

“She’s probably still getting over their alone time earlier,” Mo-eum teases, earning her a surprised look from you because she rarely calls you out.

“Seriously, both of you,” you groan as quietly as you can. “I… I’m trying to balance it out. I’m gonna lose my mind if I’m constantly exposed to that… body.”

“So what, he just needs to put clothes on then you’ll act normally?” Jimin cocks an eyebrow.

“He just needs to… I don’t know,” you sigh. “This is on me. I’m feeling and thinking things that are weird and new. I just have to get my shit together.”

“But you spent so much time together recently and it might make him wonder why you’re not calling for him or something,” Mo-eum reasons, which is something you’d also thought about. 

“Yeah and if he asks, you’ll tell the truth but you might also say things prematurely,” Jimin adds.

“I actually considered to kind of distance myself from him,” you admit. “I wanted to know if I’ll miss him and stuff until I remembered we had this trip and I just had to suck it up.”

“Well, you might still miss him even while on this trip if you deliberately stay away. And then things might be even weirder,” Mo-eum says. “Don’t overthink, just feel.”

“And wouldn’t it say a lot if, without thinking too much, you actually look for him?” Jimin adds. “That’s probably a bigger tell.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll let my body do the figuring out, then.”

You disperse from your little huddle and submerge yourself in the water, as if symbolic of your decision to just let yourself be drowned in whatever you’re experiencing, in hopes that you come out of it more sure of what you really feel. 

Eventually though, you all call it a night, and they let you and Jungkook go first in washing up, given the long day you’ve had. 

You take the bathroom upstairs and quickly get cleaned. It’s after you’ve blow dried your hair and dressed up in pajamas that you feel the weight of today weigh you down, and you suddenly feel like you’ll pass out. 

You lie in bed while Mo-eum takes a shower. Jimin is back and says that Jungkook helped clean one of the platters because it was heavy. You want to see him before you sleep just to say good night but exhaustion overtakes you, and your eyes shut before you know it.

Jungkook sighs - partly out of tiredness and partly out of regret - that he didn’t get back to your room early enough to make sure you were okay for the night. He still would’ve helped Suhyeon and Gyu-rim in cleaning up but still, he could’ve worked faster so he could return to you sooner. 

He shouldn’t be wondering why it’s even a big deal for him, as he’s accepted that he wants to spend time with you as much as he can, especially during a trip like this where the vibe is exactly how he likes it. Even more, your good nights to each other have been quite sentimental to him. 

He remembers that camping trip where he taught you a trick to fall asleep faster. Then in Sapporo, you talked and slept in the same room one night. He also can’t forget when you shared the same bed. 

Outside of your trips, there’s the time you let him stay over, and many others after he’d dropped you off or you spent the whole day together only to separate in the evening. And so now being able to wish you good night this time makes him a little sad.

He’s back in the room that all five of you share - which is the entire second floor - and he finds you already asleep next to Mo-eum who’s on her phone. Jimin is on the other bed next to Taehyung who’s wincing in pain as he rotates his head.

“Kook, my neck hurts from headbanging earlier,” Taehyung pouts. “Can you give me a massage?”

Jungkook nods, as this is one of his roles in the group given his background, then proceeds to knead and stretch his friend’s sore areas. Taehyung moans and asks for an extension.

“Yah, do I look like a massage therapist to you?” Jungkook frowns.

“You could be. That was good,” Taehyung sleepily smiles. “Anyway, thanks. I’m gonna sleep now.”

Jungkook decides to take the floor mattress because he prefers its firmness, so Jimin stays in place and eventually falls asleep. The light from Mo-eum’s phone disappears and she mumbles her good night, leaving him as the only one still awake.

He’s exhausted but his mind won’t let him sleep just yet, even as he tries the tricks he’s taught you. He doesn’t force it and resorts to playing a mobile game under the covers instead. It’s about an hour later when he decides he’ll try falling asleep again and right when he pulls away the covers, he sees you sit up from the bed, rotating your neck and groaning.

He gives a thumbs up sign when you look his way to ask if you’re okay and you shake your head no. So he stands up, heads to you, then kneels down.

“You didn’t headbang with Tae, did you?” He chuckles.

With sleepy eyes and mussed hair, you shake your head again.

“I fell asleep in an odd position and strained my neck,” you mumble. “It hurts.”

He immediately tries to find the spot near the nape of your neck, asking where it hurts and you guide his hand until he finds it. He massages it thoroughly and he takes his time. He gauges from your reaction which areas he should focus on then instructs you to rotate your head in various directions. Your moans are low and even more pronounced given how quiet everything else is. 

“Is that alright?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you respond with a smile. “I feel so much better now. And I don’t want to tire you.”

“You can let me know if it still hurts in the morning.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Without thinking much, Jungkook tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering as he fights the urge to do more. 

“I thought I wasn’t gonna be able to say good night to you,” you whisper. “I fell asleep right away.”

“You did,” he chuckles. “I thought the same but then you woke up.”

“I get to say it then,” you smile once more. “Good night.”

Your face is just inches away from his that his heart beats extremely fast and he likes it, he likes the thrill and the calmness from the way you make him feel.

“Good night. I think I’ll be able to sleep now.”

He watches you lie back down and tuck yourself under the covers before he heads back to his mattress. A minute later, he falls asleep.

You wake up to the sound of steady breathing coming from the other bed, and you peek to see that Jimin and Taehyung are still in deep sleep. Mo-eum’s probably washed up, as the space next to you is empty, and you sit up to check how Jungkook is. 

He’s sitting on the mattress, clearly having just woken up, but he turns to you to greet you good morning and ask if your neck is still hurting.

“Not as much, but it’s still a bit sore,” you mumble.

“Just do what I told you. It’ll feel better soon.”

You nod and start rotating it like he said. You check your phone. It’s 10 AM and you’ll have to leave in an hour for lunch, so you head to the sink that, oddly enough is located right outside the bathroom, and start washing your face.

You’re brushing your teeth by the time Jungkook starts walking towards you and you signal for him to give you another massage. He chuckles and stands behind you.

“You might choke,” he warns, and you wave him off and gesture for him to start.

Like you expected, he hits the spot immediately. You get so lost in how good it is that you don’t notice that you’re drooling until he tells you, so you signal that you’ll rinse. He pulls your hair in a ponytail so you could spit and once you’re done, you stand back up and let him continue.

You moan under your breath. You see him with his head turned and realize it might be a bit awkward, so you tell him that you’re all good. You turn around to face him, noting then just how close you are and when you meet his eyes, there’s that urge again to boop his nose and trace his face. You let your eyes wander to his lips for a millisecond before pinching his cheeks so hard that he winces in pain. 

“You brat,” he growls, but it just causes you to laugh and run away from him. 

He washes up while you change in the bathroom then you head downstairs to wait for everyone else. The sun is shining brightly but the breeze is a little cool. You think it’s perfect for what you’ll be doing today and you jiggle in anticipation once you’re complete.

Jungkook and Taehyung take a separate car with Jimin and Gyu-rim because they’ll be retrieving their rented motorcycle and Vespa before heading to the restaurant. You yell out your concern and tell them to be careful before heading to the car with Mo-eum where Seokjin and Hayoung are. 

You arrive at the restaurant and eventually decide on getting some braised kimchi, hairtail fish, and a bunch of other dishes that get you excited. You’ve been looking forward to this after Jungkook said how good the food was since he’s the only one who’s eaten here before, and you truly can’t wait. 

The rest of your friends arrive shortly after all the food has been served. Your attention shifts to Jungkook, who sits towards the end of the table while you’re in the middle, and your eyes briefly meet before you indulge yourself. Hayoung and Suhyeon alternately fill your plate as they often do, and moans of satisfaction quickly fill the restaurant.

The view of the ocean is as perfect as the meal and you’re truly thankful that you get to share all this with your friends. The seat next to you frees up, and you make Taehyung take it so you could hug him, as it slowly sinks in that he’s gonna be leaving in a few weeks.

“We’ll be back to video calls and you scolding me when I’m not getting rest and worrying when I’m not well because you can’t just show up at my apartment to make sure I’m taking care of myself,” you sigh. 

“Nah, I won’t be too worried,” he smiles softly at you. “You’re in good hands.”

“Jimin and Mo-eum are worse than I am,” you point out.

“Kook isn’t.”

“Hmm,” is all you say, unsure if you want to openly talk about your feelings now, although you probably will before he leaves. 

“You’ll be fine, ___. Just follow your heart,” he whispers.

“Have you been talking to Jimin?” You cock your eyebrow, suspicious now if they’ve been discussing things behind your back.

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” he says. “You know me, I say random shit. Take it how you want.”

You groan at him for being another person who’s making you think. But he just laughs at you and leaves you to your own thoughts when Mo-eum calls him to go to the balcony because she needs some air.

The others have also gone outside except for Yoongi and Gyu-rim and you’re honestly too full to even stand up. Just then, Jungkook takes the seat next to you and asks if you’re indeed too full to even move because you usually like looking at the views. 

“I can’t breathe,” you frown at him. 

“Yeah, you looked like you enjoyed yourself,” he laughs.

“So did you. You ordered like, three cups of rice,” you say. “We’re still going to a cafe after this.”

“So? Coffee and dessert are separate things.”

“True,” you hum. “How’s the motorcycle by the way?”

“It’s good. It’s a similar model to what I have in Busan.”

He rides occasionally. He doesn’t have an extra parking slot in his apartment so he left the one he has at his parents’ house, which he drives around whenever he’s home. 

“So it’s safe and stuff?” You ask.

“Of course it is. Jimin even rode with me on the way back here.”

“Did he enjoy it?”

“Always. I’m a very safe rider,” he assures you. “Do you want to try?”

“I’m kinda scared. I’m not good with balancing and like, being steady,” you explain.

“But that’s my job. You literally just have to sit there and hold onto me and enjoy the wind and the scenery. Sounds good, right?” He tries to convince you.

It’s very tempting, you’d admit, especially since you’ve committed to just letting yourself feel everything and enjoying a ride with him is one other way to do that.

“I’ll think about it,” you shrug.

He tells you more about riding until Hayoung says you’ll leave in 10 minutes. So you attempt to stand up to at least get a better view of the ocean on this side. Jungkook is there, pulling you by the hand while laughing at you. Your fingers linger, and you quickly let go of him before he notices a hint of desire for his touch.

He goes with you outside and while earlier, both of you couldn’t stop talking, now, it’s just quiet. You suppose he’s basking in the sights and how peaceful everything is as well, and you just feel that calmness being next to him. 

And it’s… new. Not the feeling, but the fact that you could feel giddy and content right after. So you savor it a little more.

You all eventually leave and head to your next destination. It’s a nice ride to the cafe, too, and you sit on the backseat with your window rolled down, looking at the ocean.

Jungkook pulls up next to you in his ride and this is a look that gets your heart racing, too. He’s got his black helmet on and with his exposed tattooed arm, he looks pretty cool. 

Your chin settles on your arm that’s by the window and you watch him. He turns to you at the stoplight and pushes his shades up.

“Be careful,” you say from inside the car. 

He gives a thumbs up then extends his arm for a fist bump, which you give. It also makes you laugh. The light turns green and you’re off again. Mo-eum and Jimin laugh at you from the front but you wave them off and no longer threaten them with physical injury. 

You’re accepting it, you think. It’s like getting used to this feeling, letting it embrace you, the way you’re allowing yourself to embrace all of it. 

You head to a quaint cafe near the mountains. It has a homey vibe, not just because it literally is an extension of the owner’s house, but also because of the warm interiors, the shelves of old books and manuscripts, unfinished paintings… and two cats, which Jimin plays with and almost cuddles. 

You take up the entire space and it gives some of you a chance to speak to the owner, a former author whose wife is an artist. You mostly listen though, especially once he talks about how life in the country and this town was several decades ago. You opt for a cup of tea to help warm your still very full belly, but you do get a taste of Jungkook’s misugaru and pretty much almost everyone’s else’s drinks because that’s how you are.

Sitting next to Hayoung, you have a good view of Jungkook from the side, and you take notice of how he smiles at certain parts of the man’s tales and when he turns serious and contemplative when the man talks about his wife. 

The stories prompt you to ask your cousin how she’s feeling as she counts the days to the wedding. She sighs as if she’s still in disbelief that it’s so close. Or perhaps that she found a man like Seokjin who truly makes her feel like it’s possible to feel content and happy in this life.

“I’m marrying a man who makes me laugh, ___. A man who laughs at my jokes even if they’re not funny,” she smiles. “And I know it may sound so simple but I don’t really know what else could be better than this feeling, you know? He makes me feel good about myself. He enjoys things with me. He shows me how to be a good and happy person. And I get to spend the rest of my life with him.”

You think of your definition of simple and it used to make sense to you. You meet someone, instantly become attracted to them, find things about them you like that mirror what they like about you, be overwhelmed by the unrelenting yet unexplainable feeling towards them, then decide you want to be with them. 

Looking back, nothing about it was simple. Perhaps it was just all shallow. The intensity was surface level and never really got the chance to dig its roots.

With Hayoung, simplicity is in the consistency, you think. It’s in the everyday and every second together.

You spot Seokjin looking to where you are and upon realizing that she was admiring him from afar, he gives her a flying kiss, causing you to snort.

“He’s so ridiculous, it drives me crazy,” she laughs.

“You’re perfect for each other,” you smile as you hug her tightly. 

“It took a while for us to realize that but I guess that was the whole point,” she hums. “We’re as committed and as happy because it wasn’t too early nor too late.”

“So it’s really the timing huh?” You ask, recalling the conversations about relationships during that camping trip. 

“It is but it’s also a choice. You both decide you want to be the right person for each other,” she says. “Regardless of who confessed first, the other person could’ve chickened out but neither of us did. We knew enough about each other that we were willing to make that move.”

“Oh, to be mature like you,” you sigh. “I can’t relate.”

“You’re honest about your feelings, ___. Not everyone is that brave nor that true to themselves. That’s maturity in my book.”

You drive out and head to the port next. The rented yacht you enter is pure luxury, and this is one of the moments where you thank the universe that you ended up being friends with a rich pair of brothers, one of whom also happens to be your future cousin-in-law. 

The size is perfect for all 12 of you - not huge but cozy enough to not feel too separated from each other. There are so many areas to hang out in - the front, the back, the top, and inside. You’d forgotten what they were called and was just in perpetual shocked mode when you were being toured around. There’s lots to do, too, and you have all the time to entertain yourselves, as you’ve got this boat until past sunset. 

You all gather at the lounge area while waiting to get to the snorkeling spot. You play music, drink some mocktails, and dance around. Half an hour later, you’re told that you’ve arrived, so you all move to the other end of the yacht and jump in the water. 

It’s the right temperature for this afternoon. It’s cold but not freezing, and the feel of the ocean is every bit refreshing as you remember. 

Yoongi and Hoseok sit on the swim platform. You stay near the boat with Suhyeon and Gyu-rim - the most cautious of the bunch, while the rest dive and explore farther out. You watch them enjoy themselves, especially Jungkook, whose laughter you can pick out even from where you are.

He removes his mask and waves at you before disappearing under the water again, only for him to end up next to you.

You shriek in surprise when he does, and you smack his chest to call him out because you thought he was a shark or something.

“Seriously?” He laughs. 

“You never know,” you shrug.

“Well I’ve gone deeper and there’s none of that. Only more fish and prettier corals. Wanna see?”

You hesitate. You’re only a little bit terrified of the water; having siblings who watched Jaws all the time did that. While you know it’s safe, there’s something about the open water that’s insanely overwhelming for you because there’s so much you don’t know and much more you’ll never know. There’s a whole world down there that’s too terrifying for your human mind to comprehend and it makes you feel so small and insignificant. It’s like that cosmic horror shit that Jungkook was telling you about this one time. 

But you also know that the little bit of what humans do know is pretty amazing. And just like how you are with your horror films, you suppose the fear is part of the experience, too.

“Fine, I do wanna see,” you finally reply. “I’m just a little scared.”

“Alright then. We won’t swim too deep. I’ve got you,” he says, gesturing for you to get under.

You follow him and reflexively take his hand, allowing him to guide you towards the reef that you see isn’t far away. You know your basics in swimming so it’s not hard, but just the idea that there’s all this around and all over you is what gets to you. 

But with Jungkook right in front, holding you tightly, and constantly looking back to check how you’re doing, you suppose it’s not bad at all. And when you finally see what he wanted to show you, you understand that that initial fear, the immediate relief from the safety he provides, and then the beauty of what’s waiting for you is all part of the experience. 

When you’ve taken it all in, you begin swimming back to the surface and don’t let go of his hand. The light from the sun penetrates the ocean and it makes the scene before you even more captivating. You emerge from the water and breathe, then smile at him for keeping his word. 

“How was that?” He asks.

“Pretty,” you say. “Thank you, Kook.”

“Glad that didn’t disappoint,” he says. 

You waddle back to the yacht and you’re more independent this time. You meet with the rest of your friends and just float about, enjoying the sun and the feel of the water on you. 

One by one, you all head back up. Some stay by the steps, the others have begun fishing, and a few have started washing up. You announce that you’ll go back to the lounge area to get your phone and Jungkook follows because he wants to dry his shirt.

He removes it and grabs a towel that he wipes himself with. You glance at him as he dries his hair with it then wraps it around his waist, disturbing you with what you’re supposed to do. 

Of course, of all times that he has to be half naked again - and during the day - is when you’re both alone and you have nothing to distract you nor keep you from ogling him. 

Because now that you care, you actually pay more attention and realize that his type of ripped is exactly your type. 

You’ve generalized your guy friends and said they’re all handsome. You’ve said it mostly to Hoseok before he got a girlfriend and to Seokjin because, well, he makes everyone say so. You always told Taehyung that you found him cute, but perhaps the most honest you were was when Namjoon showed up in a green sweatshirt and glasses one time and you whispered “daddy,” not realizing the words didn’t  actually remain in your head. The teasing started right after that. 

You’ve often passed off Jungkook as having these charming, boy-next-door traits which wasn’t really your vibe. You were always too intense for that and the men you pursued tended to match your energy and so Jungkook, even physically, felt a bit tamed or reserved to you. 

But now, you can see that you were really just a silly girl. His abs aren’t too pronounced when he doesn’t flex them but even you can tell there are eight of them there. They also hold up a pair of perfectly toned pecs. His entire torso is smooth, including his back that’s divided by that deep line that lets you know just how hard he works on it. 

And his arms. They don’t seem much but he’s flexed them a few times since last night and you have to pretend you need water every time to mask that you’re actually really just thirsty for them. Maybe it’s the fact that one is covered in tattoos and the other isn’t. The contrast gives you a whiplash, even more when you realize that connected to the feet that you make fun of because of his toe socks are massive thighs that could—

“___?”

“Hmm?”

“Is there anything else you need?”

“My phone,” you stammer.

“You’re holding it,” Jungkook says, gesturing towards your hand that is indeed holding it. 

“Right, I got it,” you reply, turning around because suddenly, it’s hard to breathe. 

You were definitely ogling him last night but now, he’s half-naked with the sun out so you’re noticing everything, including his tiny waist and—

“I’m gonna go and watch them fi— ow, fuck!”

But of course, you hit your head on the side of the roof that has a sign that says “watch out” next to it. Not that you were paying attention anyway because you were, in fact, trying to get away from the man who’s been invading your thoughts in ways that are so unexpected for you.

You slowly fall on your butt and wince in pain. And who else would go to your rescue but him?

“___, it literally says there to watch out,” he chuckles as he crouches to face you. “You’re not even that tall.”

“Yah!” You smack his chest in reflex, only to feel the tingle from touching his bare skin. “It hurts.”

“Oh shit,” he says now, his face turning serious. “Is there a bump?”

You feel around the top of your head and discover something that definitely wasn’t there earlier. His hand hovers so you guide him to where you feel it.

“Yup, that’s a bump,” he sighs. “You’ve got to be careful.”

You only pout and whimper when he puts pressure on it. 

He grabs a can of soda from the cooler and places it on your head. He instructs you to keep it there while he looks for a cold compress, which he does, a few minutes later after going to the cockpit and asking for it.

He sits next to you on the ledge while he holds it in place because you say your arm is getting sore. But he turns towards you now, so you also pay even more attention to his face. 

His dark doe-eyes are filled with worry, and you realize they’re captivating like this just as much as when they’re painted with joy or admiration. His nose is even cuter this close, and you don’t know how to convince him that you’re sincere about your attachment to it, even more now. His eyelashes are so long and they flutter against his honeyed skin. And then his lips, they’re so pink and chapped that you just want to—

“___?” He calls your name again. 

“Hmm?” 

“Seriously, did being underwater and then hitting your head make you dizzy? Do you have a concussion that’s why you’re unresponsive?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not a concussion,” you say. “I’m just—”

You fake yawn to make an excuse. Only for you to actually feel sleepy right after. 

“I think I need a nap.”

“Okay,” he laughs. “Get dressed then you can lie on the sofa.”

You rid yourself of your wet clothes in the bathroom. From there, you hear Jungkook inform your friends that you hit your head and Jimin yells that you can’t lose your memory because you still owe him dinner. 

You get back on the lounge to cuss him out then say you’re okay but that you have a bump and now you’re sleepy.

“I hit my head there earlier,” Taehyung says.

“Why didn’t you warn people about it!” You exclaim.

He shrugs but Jimin pipes in. 

“He probably didn’t think that anyone would be dumber than him.”

“Yah!” You yell, threatening to flick his forehead. 

He runs away and heads back to the other side. Most of them follow, as Seokjin and Yoongi compete with each other on who can catch more fish. Suhyeon and Hoseok stay near the railing, leaving you and Jungkook semi-alone in the lounge. He at least has a shirt on this time.

You’re both sitting on the couch and you give in, grabbing a small pillow and placing it on his lap for you to rest your head on. It’s too late by the time you realize that there’s so much space elsewhere but you chose this. You chose to be this close, so you just let it go. You’d made yourself look stupid earlier already, might as well own this. 

But you do peek at him and see that he’s got his head leaned back, perhaps taking a nap, too. He feels you move and he turns to you, seemingly unbothered at your obvious lack of respect for his personal space.

“You okay?” He asks, placing the cold compress on your bump once more.

“Hmm,” you nod. 

“Go sleep.”

You turn to your side and savor the sight before you as you slowly drift away, the blue sky with threads of the clouds strung around making you feel at peace. Jungkook pulls your hair back so you’re more comfortable, reminding you of last night and how his fingers brushed your face. 

You smile to yourself. You’re definitely owning this feeling.

You wake up to light taps on your shoulder. Jungkook tells you that you’ll miss the sunset if you keep sleeping, so you sit up and look around. Your friends have returned to this side of the boat, with some of them sitting on the other couch while the others are by the railings, enjoying the last bits of light. You see a bowl of tteokbokki on the table in front of you, and your eyes widen, as you realize right then that you’re quite hungry. 

“Can you–”

“Want me to heat it?” Jungkook finishes his question first.

“Yes please,” you shyly smile, remembering that he knows you don’t like eating your food cold.

“Sure,” he says, then grabs the plate and heads inside.

“Did you sleep well?” Jimin appears out of nowhere. 

“Yeah,” you hum. “I feel better now.”

“Good,” he smiles. 

He walks to the lounge area with Mo-eum and they sit next to you.

“You missed out on the fun parts! Tae caught some fish,” Mo-eum excitedly says. “I told him it was probably genetic.”

You laugh. “Did any of you catch anything?” 

“Nope. But Gyu-rim did. You should’ve seen Yoongi’s face, he was so proud and he was blushing,” Jimin gushes. “Kook probably would’ve caught some if someone wasn’t sleeping on his lap,” he smirks at you. “He missed out on the fun thanks to you.”

“I–” you frown. “He told me to take a nap.”

“On his lap?” Mo-eum asks.

“No but like, it was there,” you sigh. “Okay, can I just say? I completely lost it earlier. I was staring. Like, I was literally ogling him. This isn’t normal.”

“___, chill. We’re all used to you already. You literally always hug Tae’s arms and say how they’re so big. And you always call him handsome. You also called me hot before,” Jimin reminds you.

“I totally would’ve dated you for your body alone,” you remark. “But I’m not the type to do that.”

“You dated Seungho because he was hot though,” Mo-eum points out.

“Shush, that was only 92% of the reason,” you correct her. 

“Back to my point,” Jimin nudges you to look at him. “You called Joon daddy one time, remember? You ogle, ___. We know that.”

“Wow, you make me sound like a perv,” you scowl.

“None of us literally care.”

“Fine. But I was all of a sudden speechless with Kook. Like, I always knew he had a nice body but I just never really bothered to look look. And now I have and he’s so hot and I’m–”

“Sorry it took a while, the microwave was being weird,” Jungkook returns to the lounge. “Got you soda, too.”

He places your meal in front of you then heads farther out the deck with the other guys.

“Shit, do you think he heard me?” You panic.  

“Doubt it. But if he did, so what? Not like you don’t compliment him about his looks,” Jimin shrugs.

“I tell him his nose is cute,” you deadpan. “That’s totally different from saying he’s hot.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jimin shakes his head. “You just have to get used to it. This is an island trip, ___. He’s gonna be half-naked for two more days.”

“I need saving,” you sigh, prompting your two friends to laugh at your dramatic antics. 

You eat your snack while they talk about what happened earlier. It’s a good distraction from your thoughts of Jungkook, even if they’re technically still there because it’s his back that you’re currently looking at. You laugh at yourself this time because you’re being silly. 

Sure, it’s a bit unfamiliar to suddenly be physically attracted to him, but even more because you’re unable to express it, which is unlike how you normally are with your friends. You’re usually very open and playful about it with them but with Jungkook, you’re quite cautious. You’re worried you’ll say too much or that he’ll even feel the heat from your entire body as your natural reaction. 

This is perhaps another indication of how you really feel. You’re more shy than usual, but as you look at him from where you’re seated, all you want is to bask in that shyness, too. It at least tells you that it’s not all shallow and superficial when it comes to him.

You stand from your seat and clean up. When you go back out, you see that all your friends are now on the deck, lounging on the chairs and the netted structure as the sun starts to set. Seokjin and Hayoung are being all couple-y. Yoongi and Gyu-rim are in their own world in the corner. Namjoon’s dancing to some song with his earpods on, and Jungkook and Jimin are going Titanic mode and laughing at each other.

You laugh, too, and it’s another feeling that’s new or perhaps, just more pronounced. You like seeing Jungkook be silly and enjoying himself. You like seeing him feel free. It’s something he experiences and all you can do is watch, and that makes you feel good.

Jungkook loses his breath from role playing and play-fighting with Jimin. It’s something they’ve always done as kids and they never really outgrew it. But his best friend surrenders after a while and Jungkook decides to have mercy on him. 

Instinctively, he turns towards the lounge to look for you, and he finds you there, sitting on one of the chairs, smiling at him. He’d spent pretty much the entire afternoon with you - swimming, snorkeling, icing your head, and serving as your pillow yet again for your afternoon nap. 

And he has nothing to complain about, especially because you held his hand while you were in the water, and you looked him in the eyes more times than he could count, and you snuggled close to him after he told you to sleep.

He gestures for you to come over and you do. You take your spot on the floor and he takes his next to you. You scoot closer and rest your head on his shoulder, just like always and he likes this. He likes how you seek him, knowingly or not, and that you find comfort in whatever he could give. 

He’s unsure of what it means on your end but he doesn’t want to assume nor impose; he decides he’ll hope only a little. He’ll savor whatever this is as part of the experience. He’s hoping it’s something you’re doing, too.

Everyone is quiet during the sunset, as you all bask in the changing of the sky’s colors and how majestic it looks from where you are. You eat dinner on the boat and find that a hearty meal of pasta, pizza, and steak in the middle of the ocean is the perfect cap to what you think is a perfect day, even with the head bumping and the spacing out. 

Hayoung and Seokjin say a few things, as it’s their pre-wedding trip, and you’re tearing up by the end of it. Taehyung gives a speech, too, and you all burst into laughter. It’s practice for the real deal during the wedding, he says, but you already know he’ll be crying then. 

You head back to the house after and make sure to remind Jungkook to be careful during his ride. You notice that he tries to stay next to your car and gives you a smile when he sees you look at him, as if in assurance that he’s okay. 

You spend the rest of the evening drinking indoors while playing games and singing karaoke. It’s later on in the night when you feel the pull of the cool breeze. 

Some of your friends have tucked themselves in bed already. Jimin and Mo-eum are dancing and singing like they’re at a club. Namjoon’s passed out, and Taehyung and Hoseok look like they’re having a heart-to-heart near the hammock. Jungkook’s gone to take a shower so you head out to the pool, dip half of your legs in the water, then lie on the ground to look at the night sky.

The full moon is stunning and your only regret is that you’re a little tipsy so your glazed eyes can’t fully savor its beauty, but you try. Cozy in your hoodie and with your hands behind your head, you take a deep breath and take everything in. You don’t always get to have this time to be away and just live in the moment, but you know you’re lucky enough that you even have the opportunity to.

“___?”

You turn to the side and see Jungkook, drowning in his oversized hoodie, approaching you. You gesture to your side and he takes the spot next to you. He lies down and rests his head on his hands, too. 

“Haven’t you taken a bath?” You ask.

“Yeah, and I can do it again,” he shrugs. 

He takes in your sluggish state and asks if it was too loud for you inside.

“A little,” you say. “But I also needed time alone.”

At your words, Jungkook apologizes and tries to stand up, but you pull his arm and shake your head.

“And I already had it,” you say. “I don’t need you to leave.”

“Sorry, I should’ve asked.”

“You don’t need to though. You - anyone, really - are always welcome. More like, needed,” you smile. “I enjoy having you around, Kook. I don’t know if I’ve ever said that before.”

“You have, a few times. Mostly when you were drunk though. Like now,” he teases. 

“I always mean it though, especially now,” you tell him, more seriously than he is.

“Well, I’ll always be,” he assures you. “You know I’m always there for you, right?”

“You are and you have been - driving me around, changing my lightbulb, shopping with me, cooking for me…” you say, somehow feeling this heaviness at the thought that maybe you haven’t done much for him the way he’s been doing things for you.

“I like doing them, the way I think you like helping me with my workplans or talking me through tough days at work or watching my students’ games to cheer for them and me,” he responds, somehow knowing that you needed to hear that, too. “And you know, making me laugh. A lot. You’re clumsy and a mess sometimes and it makes my day.”

“Why does it make your day?” You turn to him.

“Because you don’t care, and I mean that in an endearing way,” he clarifies. “You… just let yourself be who you are in front of us. That’s refreshing, you know? I think we all have our quirks and habits but we’ve spent so much time together as a group that it just feels like we’ve adjusted to each other.”

“That’s the great thing about friends, right? About people you’ve known for years? You don’t have anything to hide from them. Over time, they just learn all these things about you and just… live with it,” you say. “It just becomes a part of who they are, too, like how my being clumsy and clueless and spoiled and dramatic has just become an aspect of all of you being caring and dependable and understanding. It’s as if our qualities and parts of our personalities kind of just intertwine in that way.”

“That’s true. It’s like how romantic relationships end up being. Or should become. At least that’s what Seokjin and Hoseok tell me.”

You’re quiet for a while as you realize that yours never got to that point. It makes sense though, as they only lasted two years max but you never felt your personality intertwine with your exes in any way.

“Hmm, can’t relate,” you sigh. “Jimin and Mo-eum made me realize that there were parts of me that I didn’t really wanna show Jeong-su and Seungho.”

“Do you know why?”

“Could be dozens of reasons. Maybe it was them. Maybe it was me.”

“Maybe you just didn’t know them long enough,” Jungkook says, hoping that nothing he says is triggering for you. “I mean, it’s how it is with people and relationships. You learn about yourself the more you spend time with them and the more you do, the more of yourself you’re able to show or adjust or fit theirs.”

You hum in response, as you process what he says.

“I was kind of a selfish kid and only thought of myself and Jimin’s kindness taught me to be more thoughtful,” Jungkook continues. “I was still pretty shy when I got to college but I let out my playful side with Tae that I didn’t really know was there. And Mo-eum was so smart that I tried to keep up with her and I realized I was pretty smart, too.”

You laugh at this, as you think about how different your friends are with him and with you.

“Jimin and I always butt heads and he calls me out because he knows no one will and I need someone to,” you state. “Tae is very soft with me because he knows I’m hard on myself all the time. And Mo-eum… ever since we were kids, she just always asked me about life in general, like what career she should pursue or how she should manage all that trauma from work and still have enough of herself to give.”

“Such contrast,” Jungkook laughs. “I think it’s because you and I are so different, too, but that’s the point, right? They’re not different people. They just have sides to them that fit with others more but that’s still them. And I know comparing platonic and romantic relationships is a bit simplistic but it’s kinda the same. You spend enough time with someone and get to know them, and I mean genuinely get to know them, and you’ll figure out which ones fit.”

“It happens naturally, yeah?”

“It should. But it requires baring yourself to the other person.”

“And that requires vulnerability, too, doesn’t it?” You ask, turning to him now. 

“It does. It requires honesty, too.”

You look into Jungkook’s eyes and see the moon reflecting from them with how round and dark and captivating they are. You’d think that given your topic of conversation, this is the perfect time to just confess about how differently you’re feeling about him. 

But there’s still something that pulls you back, and you suppose it’s this need to be sure - not of whatever he feels for you but of what you feel for him, and what you feel about you. 

You don’t want to dive into this when you’re unsure of yourself. You don’t want to doubt if you’re able to truly be vulnerable to him. You don’t want to get into anything with him when you don’t know if you like this version of you now, because you know that what he deserves is someone who likes herself enough to treat him the way he should be treated. His exes have been insecure people who took him for granted, and you don’t want a reminder of them in you.

“And that requires trust,” you add.

“It does,” he smiles, knowing that both of you are just pulling from all your experiences of failed relationships and uncertainty.

He hopes that maybe just like him, you’re trying to get to that point where you trust him and yourself enough before seeing if what you both have could be something more.

Both of you spend a few more minutes just staring at the sky before deciding to head back inside. You help your remaining friends clean up, wash themselves, and then lie in bed. 

You take your place next to Mo-eum, on the side that gives you a view of Jungkook as he sleeps on the floor. You ask him if he’s comfortable and warm enough for this chilly night and he responds with a nod.

You like this side of you that seeks him, not just because you need to be taken care of, but also because you want to take care of him, too. You think that for now, that should be enough. 

Jungkook flinches in his sleep, catching himself by surprise this time and prompting him to wake up. He slowly opens his eyes, already used to the light coming in with how thin the curtains are but he doesn’t mind much, not when the first thing he sees in the morning is you - cuddled with the pillow, looking peaceful as your brain rests for a while. 

It was a little thing he did, moving the mattress just a tiny bit during the first night, because he saw that the curtain slit would be right across his face and the sun would be unbearable. It ended up giving him a much better morning view. 

He grunts as he sits up and starts cracking his back and stretching his limbs. He sees that Taehyung and Jimin are half awake and he nods at them. Mo-eum is already up as the early-riser of the group and of course there’s you, still steadily breathing and softly snoring. 

It’s a slow morning and there’s no rush to do anything. Jungkook likes this about your recent trips, which is also why you’re all able to stay up late to drink and talk and do whatever people your age are still able to do until the wee hours of the morning. Perhaps his body has adjusted as well; regardless of what time he sleeps, he doesn’t need the entire next day to recuperate. 

Mo-eum gets back to the room and sits next to him.

“How was last night?” She asks with a playful smile.

“I had to carry your drunk ass to the bed, and then Jimin’s,” Jungkook shakes his head.

Maybe not a lot has changed. 

“___ helped you though.”

“Yeah well, we were the only ones still in our right minds,” he laughs. 

“I was still lucid when I saw you walk out to look for her,” she smirks. 

“Hey, I was just making sure that she was still on the property,” he defends. “Who knows if she followed some rabbit out there and fell into a hole or something.”

“You’re getting ridiculous with your reasons,” Mo-eum rolls her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to spend time with her, you know?”

“I’m not denying that.”

“Good. Because I think she’s been liking that. She’s always got a lot in her mind and you help ease her a bit. Like, Jimin matches her energy, Tae comforts her, I hype her up and you…” she smiles. “You seem to do that and more. Like, you become what she needs at that time.”

“I’ve always tried to be there for her and it’s the same with her,” Jungkook shrugs, not wanting to reveal too much to your best friend. “I guess at this point it’s just become easier. And nicer. I’m happy I get to be what she needs.”

“Hmm. I’m sure she is, too.”

Mo-eum’s smile is comforting. Whatever you’ve told her or haven’t, her words are enough to assure him that he’s doing right by you. He’ll just continue and savor the moments you have together, like last night by the pool where you looked him in the eyes again and he’d been tempted to just lay his feelings out to you. 

But he hesitated, wanting to make sure that you’re ready for what he has to say. He’s certain about what he feels now but he doesn’t want to just spring it on you in the middle of celebrations and farewells. He’s just been basking in seeing you slowly settle into him, and perhaps that’s part of the whole experience, as you like to say. 

Mo-eum ruffles his hair before going back to bed, hugging you like a baby and asking if you’re hungry because she already is. Jungkook watches as you slowly get to your senses, look around, slightly sit up, then sleepily wave at him. It’s a bit random but he waves back and laughs. 

It’s not long after when the rest of you finally get up and start fixing up. You stand in front of the sink outside the bathroom to brush your teeth and just like the day before, he stands behind you as he sees you stretch your neck.

“Does it hurt again?” He asks.

“No, but a massage would be nice,” you mumble with bubbles in your mouth. 

He playfully shakes his head but proceeds to press his thumbs against the nape of your neck. 

“Such a princess,” he laughs.

You close your eyes at the pleasure, feeling like you could fall back to sleep with this. He eventually stops, which is perhaps good because you would’ve choked with how much you were quietly moaning, but then he lightly drags his fingers down your back. His touch pierces through your shirt and your body shivers. You don’t see his face in the mirror, but you quickly rinse your mouth to mask your smile over how it felt.

“I’ll wash up,” he says as he heads inside the bathroom.

You yell out your thanks and exhale deeply, but then Mo-eum skips next to you and wiggles her eyebrows.

“So domestic,” she teases. 

“Shush,” you pout at her. “Dude’s a master at teasing, who would’ve thought.”

You get dressed, too, and it’s not long after when you’re all on your way to a restaurant for your lunch of the famed spicy braised chicken. You take the passenger seat of the car that Jimin’s driving and watch Jungkook ride his motorcycle again, who fortunately put on some sunblock after you reminded him before leaving. 

With Mo-eum at the back, you all laugh as Jungkook and Taehyung dance to some music at the stoplight, busting out moves that make them look ridiculous and adorable at the same time. 

You arrive at the restaurant and there’s a long table reserved for your group. You see your friends make eye signals to each other to get you and Jungkook to sit side by side, and you wanna smack them but also thank them for doing the work for you. Even if you have been making an effort to get close to him, you don’t want to be too obvious.

Which is also why you spend those moments right after you take your seat talking to Hoseok, who makes you laugh so hard that you almost fall off your chair. 

But of course, Jungkook is there to make sure that doesn’t happen, as he manages to hold onto your arm before your ass hits the floor.

“Yah, are you Jimin?!” He scolds you.

“Excuse me, I’m offended,” you gasp dramatically.

“Brat. You wish you were me,” Jimin bites back.

“I wish I had your ass,” you hum.

It’s pretty amazing. You’d give him that.

“But your ass is already nice!” Mo-eum chirps. “It’s very spankable.”

Your older friends laugh, already used to the unfiltered conversations of the young ones, and none of you really care about it. You glare at your best friend, though, because Jungkook definitely did not laugh.

The conversation shifts to something else and the food finally arrives. The mild spiced dish is closer to Taehyung, so you ask Jungkook to give you a serving in your bowl. He hands it back to you filled to the brim, and he reminds you to let it cool first so the heat level isn’t too extreme for you.

You look at the dish in front of you. It looks so delicious you might actually cry. Except for the vegetables.

“I don’t like carrots,” you pout, transferring the two large chunks from your bowl to his.

“You need to eat carrots, ___,” he says sternly. “They’re good for your eyesight. It helps you see warning signs that tell you to watch out for things that might hurt you.”

You stare at the piece that he puts on your bowl.

“Yeah, a small chunk will definitely help my eyes,” you sarcastically say.

“Then a big one, then,” he counters, putting back the one you just gave him. And then another. “And one more for both eyes.”

You’re back to where you started and you scowl at him.

“You’re so annoying.”

He responds with a smirk. A smirk! One that looks teasing more than anything.

“You could always just feed her,” Jimin suggests.

You glare at him. 

“What?!” He mouths, and it hits you that this might be more obvious because this type of teasing is normal, but you’re being so sensitive about it.

“I’m not a baby,” you frown.

And just as you’re about to take a spoonful, your hair flies to your mouth, causing the sauce to stick to the strands and then on your face. 

You groan in frustration, prompting laughter from your friends, but you reflexively turn to Jungkook with a pout.

“Say that again?” he chuckles, as he wets the napkin and wipes the sauce off your hair.

You wipe your face, too, while he pulls your hair back so you could tie it. He looks at you with a mix of teasing and endearment, yet something about it makes your heart race. 

All you can do is laugh at how ridiculous you look and he laughs along because he probably thinks so, too. He watches you take your first bite to make sure it lands then he resumes with his own dish and reminds you to eat your carrots. 

You actually do cry, as even the mild spicy version of the chicken is still a little too hot for you, but you can’t stop eating. The fried rice and ramyeon are so intense yet heavenly, and nothing’s ever hurt so good and satisfied you like this. 

Jungkook ends up wiping out the rest of the food. The only reason why you stayed in the restaurant as long as you did was so he could finish eating, and you have to remind him of what you’ll be doing after, prompting him to pass up on the dessert he was about to order. You take some time to walk around the area so you can digest though, and it’s not long after when you’re back on the road.

Jimin had suggested going to Active Park so you could all compete against each other on wall climbing, with the losers doing penalties tonight. As you agreed on, everyone joins, even the ones who aren’t really into things like this. That doesn’t include Jungkook though, as he excitedly skips to the receiving area like he didn’t just stuff himself with food an hour ago. 

But he loves these things and this is his playground. He likes being active and on the move - a contrast to you - and experiencing the thrill. He also happens to be really good at it. 

You all get briefed and get proper shoes on. He scurries inside and already chooses his first activity where he walks up high poles then free falls to the ground. Then he climbs three walls consecutively and goes mission impossible mode when he rapells down. The others start playing and you let them go first, as you secretly enjoy watching them freak out and squeal while falling. 

You eventually decide to psych yourself up by climbing up the poles so you call for one of the staff to repeat the instructions. Just then, Jungkook appears next to you - you swear you saw him competing with Taehyung just a second ago - and asks if you’re ready.

“Yes, and I’m not scared of heights,” you remind him. “I’m just clumsy.”

“Please make sure you land properly. And don’t mistakenly unhook your cord.”

“I won’t,” you roll your eyes at him. 

But you do call for him to look at you when you’re at the top and then ask for his praise when you get back on your feet safely.

He laughs at how excited you are and encourages you to try more. You tell him to just enjoy and do everything he wants and that you’ll be fine so he goes, competes with almost everyone, and wins it all. You follow your own pace and lose a few match-ups, but it’s loud and intense the whole time that you’re torn between trying things out for yourself and watching your friends do it.

Half of you get tired right away and choose to sit around to watch the more energetic ones as they keep going. You all cheer for Taehyung on the circular slide. You all encourage Suhyeon in the spiderman climb. And when Jimin hits his lip on the sandbag during the jump, you gather around him to ask if he’s okay.

“It’s just a cut,” he shrugs.

“Nope, you gotta ice it,” you say. “Mo-eum’s already getting one.”

“Listen to ___. She’s good at treating busted lips,” Jungkook hums.

“Of course you’d know,” Jimin smirks at him.

“We are not talking about that night,” you frown as you press the cloth-covered ice cube on your best friend’s wound.    

“Why are you the one triggered when it’s Jungkook’s who got elbowed?” Yoongi asks you. 

“Because she got so angry and even attempted to run after the guy who hurt Kook,” Mo-eum informs them. “You know ___ when she’s angry. It ain’t good.”

They rehash that night and you kind of block it out, not wanting to remember what those intense feelings were like. But then again, maybe that’s when this whole Jungkook thing started so maybe it isn’t all that bad. 

Jungkook finally decides that he’s done and sits next to you on one of the chairs. You hand him a bottle of water and ask him if he's satisfied.

“Yup,” he heaves. “Hands are just a bit tired but they’re fine. And oh, my busted lip has healed.”

You snicker and look away.

“I don’t know if I ever properly thanked you for that night, ___,” he says. “So, uh, thank you. I don’t think I’ll ever forget all the times that you stood up for me.”

“Technically, it was just one time. It would’ve been more if people weren’t stopping me,” you laugh. 

“Well, there’s a reason for that, you know?” He nudges your knee. “You can actually get in trouble or get hurt. I… I don't really know how I’d be able to handle that. So don’t get yourself hurt, okay?”

“Is that why you were tailing me this whole time? You were scared I’d hurt myself?” You cock an eyebrow.

“___, you hurt yourself in your own house. Because of your couch. This place is filled with hazards.”

“Oh shush,” you laugh now. “Well, nothing happened to me. I think I’m improving.”

“No injuries today so you might just be,” he winks.

“You’d still look out for me, though?” you turn to him.

“Always,” he smiles. 

You head outdoors after a bit of rest to go-kart. Just when you thought that most of you have drained all your energy from wall climbing, it turns out that driving can actually restore it, as all of you quickly choose your karts and start riding around the track. With the breeze pushing you and the fluffy clouds against the blue sky as your background, it’s actually very relaxing.

You go only a few laps. Hoseok, Seokjin, Jimin, and Taehyung race five rounds because someone is always complaining or cheating. Jungkook skids like he’s on Fast and the Furious, and Suhyeon and Hayoung are just happily going about in their lanes.

There’s that feeling of calmness when you all take your seats on the benches in the adjacent playground with your iced drinks in hand. You laugh at Namjoon constantly being stuck in the track because he was confused over which foot had to press what, and then Yoongi bumping him because he couldn’t stop earlier. You’re laughing about last night, too, and just everything that’s been happening on this trip.

As always, Jimin and Taehyung play with the horse rockers, then Jungkook joins them when they spin in the merry-go-round. Mo-eum goes with you when you scurry to the big slide. You run up the steps, squealing as you do, and then trip on one of them.

Mo-eum goes to your rescue and tries to hold in her laugh. But the thump and her constant chuckling gets your friends’ attention and as you look up, you see Jungkook incredulously looking at you.

“So… about me not having injuries today, I think you jinxed it,” you smile sweetly at him. 

In Jungkook fashion, he laughs, helps you up, then puts a band-aid over the scraped skin on your shin. 

He might not always be next to you, but he’ll be there whenever you need him. You think that perfectly describes these last few months of getting closer to him. You hope it’ll be like that from here on out.

Watching the sky turn dark from the property’s outdoor area is quite magical, as you’re learning now. You’d just woken up from a long nap after arriving home and you’re now on the hammock, with your hands behind your head, taking in how stunning the view is. You’re next to Mo-eum who’s doing the same, and the others have taken their spots in different areas, too.

Not long after, you put on a dress and head to a restaurant for an omakase dinner. It’s another one of those spoils from Seokjin and Hayoung and you pretty much thank them after praising the chef with every dish. 

The ingredients are so fresh and they’ve been prepared so delicately. Taehyung dramatically walks around in awe and Jungkook jumps on his seat all night with how much he’s enjoying the food. It’s hard not to laugh when watching everyone react, and that includes you. You’re just as expressive as everyone is, including Yoongi and Gyu-rim who often just say the simplest things when describing their appreciation for food.

Hoseok buys a fancy bottle of sake to take home where you all finish it, alongside the other drinks you bought on the way back. 

It’s a beautiful evening but you suppose that everyone’s just spent from everything you’d done today, as you all just take a seat around the fire pit and talk. The penalties will have to be be done tomorrow, you all agree.

You fall asleep on Hayoung’s shoulder in the midst of the tired laughter and end up lying on her lap. Your lower body spills over to Jimin’s lap as well, and he just chuckles and says that the princess is tired.

“Want me to help you get ready for bed?” Your cousin whispers in your ear.

You’re still a bit aware of your surroundings and could hear what she says, and you tell her it’s fine and that they should all stay while you take a nap. But you don’t know how long you’re asleep for until you feel yourself being pulled up.

“Let’s go, I’ll help you wash up,” Mo-eum says to you.

You let her guide you up until you’re lying in bed in your pajamas, ready to fall into deep sleep. 

Jungkook sits on the edge of the bed right next to yours. Taehyung is on the floor mattress this time after lying on it to have a feel and then falling asleep right away, so Jungkook gets to have a different view of you this time.

He chuckles as he watches your breathing deepen and then steady. You must really be tired after all those activities and the amazing dinner and he wouldn’t be surprised as he’s exhausted, too. 

But it felt nice spending the day like this, even if he wasn’t next to you all the time. He’d been too excited with the wall climbing but he always made sure to watch you whenever you did it. He was having so much fun during go-karting but he always looked for you on the track and smiled at you whenever he passed you by after you stopped driving. 

Even during dinner, you were sandwiched between Hayoung and Namjoon so Jungkook just glanced at you to see how you found the food because he was losing his mind. And then after you all got home, he just softly watched you slowly fall asleep. You looked so cozy though, like he just wanted to hug you until he fell asleep, too, just like now, as you finally turn towards your side facing him. 

You’re hugging a pillow and Jungkook laughs to himself at how much he wished that was him. It must feel nice, he thinks, to have you that close. Maybe you’d talk until someone knocks out mid-sentence like what happened in Sapporo. Maybe you’d laugh until you get tired. Maybe you could do more, just like the home he wants to cuddle in.

He shakes his head at the thoughts in his mind. He’s thinking too much and definitely too far ahead. He has that hope that you might feel the same way. After all, he’s seen you space out while looking at him, whether up close or from afar, and he knows that means your mind has travelled to so many places. He could only hope your thoughts were about him, perhaps about settling into your feelings, whatever those are. 

But he’s quite a patient man when it comes to things he really, really wants. He’s holding out hope that somehow, you’re thinking and figuring things out yourself, and as long as you are, he’ll just admire you and enjoy what he gets to share with you as much as he can.

The morning comes longer than you expected, and that tells you that you probably had a really good sleep. You remember seeing the blaze from the fire pit and dozing off, then briefly washing up before crashing out again. 

But the light is blaring through the blinds now and you let out a yawn. You stretch your arms and look around to find yourself alone in the room, and you check your phone to see what time it is and what everyone else is up to. It’s 9 AM and it seems that there’s takeaway breakfast downstairs. 

Just then, you hear Mo-eum calling for you as she climbs up the stairs.

“Hey, you’re up!” She chirps. “You didn’t wake up even with the guys’ early alarm, huh?”

“Nope, I was passed out. But I slept so well,” you mumble. “Where’d they go?”

“To the other side of the island. Tae and Kook wanted to ride their bikes then decided to buy breakfast for everyone so they called Jimin to pick up the food,” she laughs. “Let’s go eat!”

You nod and wash up before heading downstairs with her. People have gathered at the kitchen while some are already outside, enjoying the sun and the cool morning breeze. There’s an array of breakfast wraps and sandwiches and sweet and savory pastries that it’s hard to choose. But you pick up a few and look around to try your friends’ choices, knowing they’ll let you.

You get a bite from Mo-eum and Hayoung then Jimin, then you see Jungkook going back inside to get another serving. He chooses the bacon bun and you think he sees your eyes light up, because he’s walking towards you and offering you a bite. 

“Hmm, that’s good,” you smile satisfyingly. 

“It is, right?” he smiles. “Is the wrap okay?”

“Yup. It’s very filling.”

“Nice. I thought you’d like that,” he hums. “Did you see the iced black sesame drink I got you?” He asks as he grabs a cup from the bag. “I told them to tell you it’s here. I thought you’d like it. But there’s hot coffee and uh, my barely touched iced americano if you want.”

“This sounds like my kind of drink,” you smile at him now, taking what he got you.

It’s delicious and you tell him so. You walk out towards the lounge chair by the pool where he follows and you ask him about where they went to earlier.

“There’s this stretch of the ocean where you can see some dolphins and Tae wanted to check them out,” Jungkook says. “So we took our bikes there around 7 and just drove around the town. He was chatting with the locals and they told us what other areas to check out. Then we got some breakfast and called Jimin.”

“Oh, that sounded fun! Where did they say to go?”

“The lesser known parks that also have the cherry blossoms in full bloom, this hill with wildflowers, a pier that has a nice view of the ocean,” he shares. “They said where we watched the dolphins is a good spot to watch the sunrise and we should go back but I said we leave tomorrow so probably the next trip.”

“We leave in the afternoon though,” you remind him. “That actually sounds nice.”

“Do you… want to ride and catch the sunrise in the morning?” he asks, testing the waters. “We could still take the car but the bike is just a different experience. It’ll be cold but they swore by it and said the fishermen love that area because of how pretty it is.”

“You’ll make sure I’ll be safe right?” You nervously ask, as the thought of riding a motorcycle with him is both a thrilling and terrifying thought for completely different reasons. “I mean, you know how dramatic I am with a stubbed toe. Imagine me injured, so I’m sure you’ll make sure that won’t happen.” 

“Definitely not letting that happen,” he chuckles.

“Good! Wake me up, okay! And should, uh, should we invite the others?”

It’s a courtesy question, you think, even if you’re unsure you’re ready to be alone with him to do something that you think is quite intimate - not only in riding his bike with him but also watching something beautiful together. 

“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook hums. 

It won’t hurt, you convince yourself, even if you hope deep down that no one will take the offer.

[to: My Elders] Kook and I are riding his bike to this spot to watch the sunrise. Anyone want to join?

It’s barely 10 seconds in when Jimin replies. 

[from: jiminie pabo] nope. and i speak for everyone.

You know what he’s doing so you quickly turn to where he is by the hammock and try to glare at him but he only smiles and gives a not-so-subtle thumbs up sign. You could only hope he didn’t say anything to anyone about what you feel and that this potential alone time with Jungkook is something that you’d want to have.

[to: My Elders] K then. Just tell us if you change your mind.

You turn to Jungkook. “They said they don’t want to. Well, Jimin did but he probably asked them. Are you still good?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “I’ll wake you up early then and we could get back here and still have time for a nap before we head out.”

“Sounds good,” you smile, hoping that the constant smiling isn’t giving you away too much, given that you’ve been doing that to him all trip. “Can’t wait.”

You talk a bit more about the sights he saw until your food and drinks have finished. You’re heading back to the kitchen for water when Taehyung suggests swimming in the pool before going for a ride around some areas of the island, just like what the locals had said. 

Everyone agrees, except for Yoongi, and you all change into your swimsuits and take advantage of the nice weather. 

You think at this point that you’re already immune to Jungkook’s bare body. You’ve seen it so many times before this trip and even just these past days, even if you technically zoned out in admiration this time. 

As the universe would have it, you are actually not immune, especially when you head out to the pool and find him on his hands and knees, trying to balance himself on the watermelon floatie, with all his muscles working full-time to keep himself from falling into the water. 

Your stupid mind conjures up images that you definitely should not be thinking about, and you turn away in time before he catches you staring at him again.

Mo-eum walks over to you and you both walk towards the pool to have a dip. But of course, Jimin and Taehyung cannonball into the water and start playing like the children that they are. They play with the water guns, too, and with Jungkook and their recruit, Hoseok, they run around the house and try to shoot each other as if they aren’t already wet.

The rest of you adults just chill around, content enough with the cool water and the fact that the sun doesn’t seem too much yet. It’s when the boys return that Seokjin reminds everyone of the penalties from yesterday’s game and suggests playing more games until there’s only one person left to receive the punishment. There's a handstand race, which Hoseok loses, and then there’s the chicken fight, which is a three-way match between you, Gyu-rim, and Suhyeon. 

Jimin says that the men with the sturdiest shoulders should be the other half of the pairs, and with Suhyeon being paired with Namjoon and Gyu-rim calling dibs on Taehyung, that’s how you end up with Jungkook as your partner. 

You try your best to not look affected even if you’re freaking out inside. You ask Jungkook instead if he’s ready to win and save your ass from drinking Seokjin’s terrible concoction. 

He chuckles and says that he trained his whole life to always win at chicken fights and that he has amazing grip. While you should’ve taken that lightly, your mind goes somewhere again that you have to pinch your cheeks as a reminder to get away from that place and instead focus. 

He asks if you’re ready then assists you in getting on his shoulders and he’s right, his grip on your thighs is pretty good and you just know he’s gonna be holding you steady all throughout. You practice some moves and he advises you on what to do. 

“Will you hate me if I pull your hair,” you ask.

“Nope. I will if you fart, though.”

“I’ll try. Let’s hope I don’t get too excited,” you tease.

“Yah!” he exclaims, threatening to drop you in the water.

You hold onto his cheeks for support and you laugh and say he’s being dramatic. 

When Seokjin calls for the start of the match, you and Jungkook get your game faces on. He told you earlier to be aggressive so that’s what you do, and he expertly maneuvers his body so you can have the right angle for a good hit. You pull his hair only a little, but he doesn’t mind, especially when Suhyeon falls first, and then Gyu-rim follows right after. 

You celebrate your win with cheering and tender taps on Jungkook’s cheeks. He slowly drops you and you reflexively hug each other in joy. You feel the tingles at being so close to him, especially with your skin being in contact with his, and then your hands brushing against each other and lingering under the water. 

You sit next to each other on the pool ledge as you watch the two other women play rock-paper-scissors, with Gyu-rim losing and facing Hoseok for a palm push match while standing on a floatie.

It ends up being so intense. Hoseok has crazy core strength and can balance well but Gyu-rim is playing aggressively. It’s especially funny when Yoongi gets so into the match and keeps yelling out instructions for her to follow, even going as far as taunting Hoseok, causing him to laugh and eventually lose. 

Everyone explodes in laughter at the series of events. It has truly woken all of you up and you feel energized. You stay in the pool for a few more minutes before getting changed, ready for a drive around the island.

Mo-eum is on the wheel this time while you make yourself comfortable next to her. You all watch Jungkook and Taehyung enjoy themselves again on their bikes as they guide you and the other cars to a quieter part of town. 

You find a stunning waterfall and then go to the hill with wildflowers, which also has a nice view of the mountains. You buy some rice cakes from a store then get some iced drinks from a cafe before heading to a park to look at all the springtime flowers in full bloom. 

Much as you want to just stay next to Jungkook whenever you hang around a new place, you find yourself enjoying watching him just be. Whether he’s looking around and enjoying the view or being rowdy and playful with your friends, you’re captivated by what he does and how he is, which is totally new to you. 

“Even you weren’t that endeared with your exes,” Mo-eum points out when you’re back in the car to head to a beach. “I mean, I guess I get it. They weren’t exactly charming people, no offense.”

You look at her in question, wondering what made her say it.

“You were looking at Kook with sparkly eyes,” she shrugs. “Just thought you should know in case you didn’t know.”

“I—” you stutter, clearly unaware. 

“It’s fine, dude. It’s just us,” Jimin chuckles. “It’s how it is when you like someone, you know?”

“Was I not like this with my exes?” You ask them.

“Hmm, not really. You were ecstatic at the start, obviously,” Mo-eum says. “But I don’t recall you being this… soft. It might come with age, who knows? You’re probably exhausted from feeling so intensely all the time.”

You let her words settle as it turns quiet in the car, save for the blowing of the wind through the open windows. It must be tiring to experience such strong feelings all the time; you suppose that’s why you never really got to pay attention to them.

With Jungkook, you’ve been having these feelings for a few weeks now, and they’ve been ruminating, like you’re settling into them as you try to make sense of how this could happen. You suppose in your constant questioning or even disbelief, it’s allowed you to take things slow. With this trip and being around him as much as you are, you’re gradually getting used to feeling this way while not throwing yourself completely into it right away. You’re also getting used to you being like this.

You suppose that’s made you take notice of everything else about him. It’s also what’s making you look at him more softly, as if you’re getting to know him from afar.

Your thoughts are suspended for a while when you arrive at a quiet beach. It’s the perfect spot for a swim and you watch your friends put on their sunblocks and rush to the water. You’re surprised at how much energy all of you still have but it’s probably the most free you’ve all felt in a long time. 

You sit on the beach towel that’s been set on the ground. You’re watching them play around while putting on your sunscreen when you hear Jungkook call your name before sitting down next to you.

“Hey,” you say. “Why aren’t you there with them yet?”

“Tae and Jimin made me put on their sunscreens then ran to the water,” he pouts. “Do I still have some on my face?”

You look at him when he turns to face you. You spread the bit that’s on his nose and chin then tell him he’s all good. He puts on his arms and you have to turn away and act unaffected when he spreads the lotion on his chest and torso. He turns to you again with his bunny-like smile and asks if you could put on his back.

“Sure,” you smile. 

You do it as calmly as you can, forcing thoughts out of your mind because while this isn’t the first time you’ve done this, it’s the first time that you’re desiring him.

He asks if you’ll swim, too, and you instinctively nod so he offers to put some on your back. You nod again, not at all ready for his palms to press against your skin like this. 

Of all times to wear a two-piece suit, it really had to be now and you think that you could’ve stuck to what you wore this morning. You remove your cover up dress and turn around, hoping that he won’t feel the shiver on your skin once he touches you.

But you feel it, not because the lotion is cold but because his hand is rough and gentle at the same time. He’s quiet, too, so you don’t know what’s going on in his mind and you suddenly feel tense, especially when he moves down to your waist and you jerk in surprise. 

But he doesn’t say anything until he’s finished. You mumble your thanks and he faces the water once you start spreading the lotion on your arms and legs. 

Mo-eum yells for both of you to come so Jungkook stands up and offers his hand for you to take, which you do. Your fingers brush against each other again and you can’t help the small smile that forms on your face, until you find out that there are pebbles that line the shore which you have to cross to get to the water and you express your dismay.

“It’s just like acupuncture on your feet,” Jungkook explains.

“I don’t like them. They hurt,” you pout.

“Come on. It’s not that bad,” he says.

You still look unsure so he offers his hand again and you take it, letting him ease the pressure on your feet as you walk over. You make it, and you sigh in relief once you’re submerged in the cool water. 

Your friends join you and you all just soak in the feeling of being here and wave at the others who opted to stay on the shore. 

When you all collectively start getting dehydrated, you decide to head back. You groan when you reach the pebbled part of the shore again and Jungkook chuckles next to you.

“Do you want to ride on my back? Do you want me to throw you to the other side or build you a bridge?” He teases.

The piggyback ride is definitely tempting but you opt for something else.

“Hold my hand again?” You ask.

He softly smiles and offers his and you gladly take it. You almost don’t want to let go but you do, hoping for another chance to do it again. 

You all lay on the towels to dry up a bit before heading back on the road for a last drive to a pier before heading to a restaurant for some black pork belly for dinner. 

You sit next to Jungkook, given the realization that it’s your last night and tomorrow’s your last day. When you get back to Seoul, it’s back to the daily grind and your usual schedule. You want to see him again. In fact, you want to see him more. 

You could reason that you’re just doing what you’ve been doing these past months if you ask him to hang out or go with you to buy something or watch a movie in your apartment. Or you could just be honest with him and tell him how you feel, perhaps see if he feels the same way and figure out where you go from here. 

The thought makes you giggle and butterflies explode in your belly thinking that he might like you, too. You don’t want to assume. It could be that he’s always been this attentive or affectionate to you and you never really paid attention because maybe, he stayed the same and you’re the one that changed. 

It’s also possible that alongside you, he also changed. Or you may also just be reading too much into it and you’re completely off the mark and it may be the worst thing in the world but then maybe it isn’t. Not having him around you in any way is definitely much worse and that thought makes your heart skip a beat for all the wrong reasons. 

You don’t want to think of a life where he isn’t around, same as you can’t imagine the last 10 years without him. Would trying to have something more put all that in jeopardy? 

But you’ve always been a risk-taker. You’ve been rejected before but you got over it and you never regretted going for something you want for fear of what you’ll lose. 

Then again, Jungkook is different; he’s your friend. Losing him because he doesn’t feel the same way would be terrible for you.

But who’s to say you’ll lose him even if he doesn’t like you back? You’ll make sure you won’t and—

“Yah,” he nudges your knee. “Can your wandering mind get its ass back here? We’ve got dinner to eat. I’m cooking this pork perfectly so you better be present for it.”

You turn to him who’s teasingly laughing at you and you shake your head, knowing he’d seen your face probably express all the different thoughts and emotions you just experienced all in one minute. 

“Okay, better get going and cook it to perfection then,” you say smugly. 

Jungkook shows off when he’s challenged and that’s what he does. He gives a commentary of how he’s grilling the pork and even does tricks of opening the soju and beer bottles to the delight of everyone. But he’s right to boast because the meat does taste amazing. He’s rendered the fat well and it’s so juicy, everyone moans through dinner. 

You all stay in the restaurant a while to make sure everyone’s sobered up before heading back to the house where you watch an outdoor movie - a sci-fi horror film that Mo-eum insisted on because she thinks she’ll be less scared with more people around. 

She wasn’t right about that and you fared much better with Jungkook next to you, mostly because you were actually nervous to do something silly, like snuggle with him or hold his hand. You screamed only in one part and managed to cover your mouth in time. He teasingly laughed at you though and said he wasn’t going anywhere even if you screamed again.

There’s dancing and singing right after to get over what you just watched. There’s also definitely more alcohol. But you hold off a little, knowing you have that sunrise ride in the morning with Jungkook, which you’re really doing alone with him because everybody else passed up on it. 

You see him drink less, too, and you look at each other after rejecting Namjoon’s drink offers and know you’re thinking the same. 

The night still ends right before midnight though, and once you’re settled on your side of the bed and Jungkook is tucked under the covers on his, he asks you again about tomorrow.

“You sure you’re ready to wake up and brave the cold?”

“Yes. You’ll make sure I will,” you laugh.

“Okay then. See you in the morning.”

Waking you up before 5 AM isn’t as bad as Jungkook expected. You open your eyes after the fifth tap and raise your arms for him to pull so you could get off the bed. You trip on the floor mattress but thankfully don’t wake Taehyung up nor stub your toe so that’s a success in Jungkook’s books. 

You insist on washing up downstairs so you don’t wake your friends up and he has to guide you down the steps because you’re still half asleep. You do your business then wait for him to do his.

You jerk in surprise when he exits the bathroom in just his joggers, and you grumbly ask him why he’s always naked. When he laughs at your question, you ask him why he’s laughing, and he just waves this off as you, speaking your mind like always. 

You ask for his jacket though, since the thickest one you have is still wet and he’s got one he could lend you so he wears the thinner one so you’d feel warmer.

There are a dozen things that could’ve gone wrong with just getting you out of the door but they didn’t happen so yes, this isn't as bad as Jungkook had imagined. 

You make your way to his motorcycle and he faces you to put on your helmet.

“Don’t be scared, okay? Tell me if you are then I’ll slow down,” he instructs. “But just hold tight. You know I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“Okay,” you smile softly. 

He gets on the bike and you follow his instructions for getting behind him. You wear the backpack with the hot drinks inside then you wrap your arms around his waist as security. 

You quickly settle in and loosen your hold around him just a little. It’s still dark everywhere so there’s not much to see so you just focus on how he feels in front of you, liking the warmth he emits and the stability he provides as he carefully drives around. 

It’s not a long drive but you suppose that’s fine. You get to the viewing spot and quickly see the start of the sun’s ascent.

“Not bad, right?” He gestures to his bike. “It rides pretty smooth and it’s not too loud.”

“It was fine,” you assure him. “I didn’t feel like I was gonna fall off or anything.”

He smiles in response and helps you sit on the ledge of a wall that gives a good view of the ocean. With cups of hot tea in hand, you sit in silence as the sky starts to lighten, as if you’re witnessing the changing of the guards and it’s now the sun’s turn to watch over earth. 

It’s breathtaking and you think of all the times you’d taken the sunrise for granted. It’s slow but it’s constant. It may look different, depending on where you’re watching it from, but it still happens everyday and you either go through your day without thinking about it or you stop and look at the sun and think that it did its best in showing up today. 

That’s how it is with things you’ve gotten used to sometimes - you stop paying attention, and perhaps that’s when you miss out on important things. 

You recall the sunrise during your hike a few months ago when Jungkook stayed back to make sure you made it to the top. You don’t even know where he was when you all sat down by the rocks to watch and perhaps that says a lot with how you looked at him then. Because you’re here alone with him now, and you already know this moment will last with you for a long time. 

Maybe your friendship is like the sunrise. It will always be there, but you could watch it on top of a mountain or by the ocean or along Hangang River and the view changes. You know you changed, and now that you’ve paid attention, you want to know if this friendship could change into something more, too.

“Now that’s satisfying,” Jungkook hums as the sun settles above the water now.

“Thanks for telling me about this place and bringing me here, Kook,” you turn to face him. “It’s uh, it’s something I’ll always remember.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” he responds. 

You don’t know if it’s the sincerity in his eyes or it’s just you being caught up in the moment, but you glance at his lips and think for a millisecond that crashing yours against his is a good idea. 

His phone alarm ringing fortunately knocks some sense into you and you turn away in time for you to not do anything abrupt and maybe unwelcome. He remarks that he forgot to set it off for this time and you nod, internally thankful that he did. 

It’s at that moment when you hear sounds from the water and see that dolphins have come to swim on this part of the ocean. You’re so surprised and excited that you reflexively hold his hand but he doesn’t seem put off and he lets it stay there.

You don’t mind at this point. All you know is that it feels right and you want to feel it again. 

The moment ends and you look at each other in awe at being able to experience something so wholesome and beautiful together. You suppose it’s too much for words, as you get back on the bike and ride around town with not many words. 

It’s a longer trip this time, as he says that he’ll take the other route so there’s more of the town to see, and you don’t mind at all. You’d like to hold him like this as long as possible.

You make it back to the house and take a nap until everyone else wakes up. You pack your bags and load them in the trunk before you head out for some stir fried pork lunch. Jungkook and Taehyung follow after returning their bikes and you watch Jungkook from afar, beefing with Jimin about the sausage and then finishing more portions than he said he’d have.

You drive to the airport and don’t wait long before you board the plane. You sit next to Jungkook again and you lean on each other just like the flight coming here. But you suppose something’s really changed now, as you comfortably snuggle closer and think that you want to keep doing this, maybe hold hands, too. Perhaps share a kiss?

It’s all too much and probably too soon but you’ll care about all that later on. You want to bask in the possibilities first; the thoughts of consequences will come soon after you separate from him. 

And it does, after you hang out at Jungkook’s place with Taehyung, Jimin, and Mo-eum and then he drops you off at yours. 

“So, Tae invited himself and you guys to my apartment on Saturday,” you say when you open your door and he rolls your luggage inside your home. “You’ll be there, right?”

“Of course,” he smiles.

“I’ll return your hoodie all fresh and washed then!”

“No problem. You take care, yeah? Hopefully the trip gave you a bit of energy for the week.”

“It did. It gave me a lot actually. You, too,” you smile back.

“Same,” he nods. “I’ll head out and see you, yeah?”

“Good night, Kook!” You yell out.

“Good night!”

You lie on your couch once you close the door and take in his scent on his hoodie that you don’t want to remove just yet. You already can’t wait to see him again. You also know you’re gonna have to find a way to deal with all this and you’ll have to do it without losing him in the process.

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[formulaonecrumbs]

ok, so this is my first time requesting ever so... if you could write something about younger brother lando (around 8 yo) being made fun of at school and older sisster reader comforting him (i'm talking about your older sister au ) if you don't write it it's completely fine just wanna say i really love you wrok 💗

you’re too cool for them

Lando Norris x older sister!reader

summary: lando comes home upset after being made fun of at school. reader finds him and comforts him in the way only an older sister can.

warnings: bullying mention, protective older sister energy

A/N: AHHH im glad i could be ur first request ever :) hope it lives up to wiat u expected. thank u sm, baby. i was going to make this much longer but i’ve been writing for like 4 maybe 5 hours straight WHOOPS. again thank u for the request, happy reading and i love u ❤️

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

home film #11 (out of a gazillion)- found in a cardboard box labelled ‘memories’

(recorded: norris family home, bristol)

timestamp: 3:03 pm 11-15-2007

the clip starts mid-focus, camera pointed at the hallway, picking up footsteps—quick ones, heavy ones—and then the slam of the front door. lando rushes in, head down, backpack nearly falling off his shoulders. it’s raining outside, his socks are slightly damp, and he doesn’t even say hi.

the camera shakes as someone picks it up—adam’s voice murmurs something about “what’s got into him?” before the screen cuts to the living room.

you’re already there, curled up on the couch with a snack and a book, still in your school uniform. you barely look up until lando stomps through, dropping his bag with a thud.

“lando?” you ask.

he doesn’t answer. he just mumbles something under his breath and disappears into the hallway.

cut.

the next shot is more still. you’re holding the camcorder now, awkwardly pointing it at yourself like you’re not sure if you’re allowed to use it. the angle shifts wildly before settling just outside your bedroom.

you knock once, gently. “hey.”

no response.

“i know you’re in there.”

a sniffle.

your voice much softer now, “bean? can i come in?”

a beat. then, a quiet little “yeah.”

the video cuts again, and when it comes back, you’ve set the camera on your desk. it’s angled slightly crooked, catching you and lando sitting on your bed. he’s curled up, knees to his chest, eyes red and puffy.

“they said my teeth are weird.. that the gap is ugly,” he says quietly. “and that my voice is squeaky. and that i’m too short.”

you blink, something in your face hardening—not at him, but at the thought of whoever said it (murder is wrong murdering is wrong murder is wrong murder is wrong). “that’s stupid.”

lando shrugs, trying to act like he doesn’t care. “it’s true though.”

you shake your head. “your voice is fine. everyone’s voice is squeaky at eight. and your teeth are just your baby teeth. they’re perfect as is, sweet like dads. and being short doesn’t matter.”

“easy for you to say.”

you nudge his knee gently. “hey. i get picked on too sometimes. for different stuff. people are mean when they’re bored.”

lando doesn’t reply. just looks down again, and you reach over, pulling his hoodie hood up over his head.

“you’re cool,” you say firmly. “you’re funny, and you’re smart. you’re literally my favorite person.”

he peeks up at you.

“really?”

“yes, really. don’t tell the others.” you smile. “now do you want me to punch them or what?”

lando giggles for the first time.

“maybe.”

you wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a sideways hug. “just ignore them, alright? or tell me. i’ll handle it.”

he leans into you, sniffling again, but this time a little softer.

the video fades out just as you toss him one of your stuffed animals and say, “you’re cooler than all of them. trust me.”

fade to black.

THE END :>

[cbeargyu]

how about childhood friends beomgyu to enemies to lovers 🤗

because of you

summary: you and beomgyu were never meant to be more than enemies — or so everyone thought. but one fake relationship, one wedding, and one jealous ex later, everything starts to unravel. somewhere between pretending and falling, the lines blur… and your heart forgets it’s all supposed to be fake.

pairing: beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: childhood friends to enemies to lovers, fake dating, slow burn, romance, fluff, a sprinkle of angst.

warnings: language, emotional vulnerability, mentions of past heartbreak, very soft kissing scenes, a little bit of yearning, friends reacting in shock.

wc: 14,3k

notes: omg i LOVED this request!! i’d been playing with the idea of fake dating with beomgyu for a while, and when this anon slid in with this concept, i instantly knew i had to merge both ideas 😭💕 i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i loved writing it <3

every time I trade my soul because of you, if you wanna be in my way because of me.

you don’t remember the exact moment beomgyu stopped being your best friend.

maybe it was a gradual thing. maybe it was one of those silent transitions, like the seasons changing in slow motion—summer bleeding into fall before you ever notice the chill in the air. or maybe it was a single instant, sharp and cruel, a rupture too quick to process in real time.

what you do remember is this: there was a time when choi beomgyu was your favorite person in the world. he was the loud laughter that echoed down the elementary school hallways, the warm hand that always reached for yours first during class trips, the boy who biked to your house even when it was raining just to drop off the pencil case you left behind. the one who knew your favorite candy, the stories you told yourself to fall asleep, the secrets you never said out loud to anyone else. he knew all of you. and back then, that meant everything.

you were inseparable. like people said it with a laugh, like it was cute how he always waited for you after class, how you saved a seat for him at lunch, how you shared snacks and whispered answers during tests. you didn’t care about what people said. beomgyu was your home. he was loud and goofy and a little chaotic, always pulling you into mischief, but he was yours. and you were his.

until middle school.

until popularity started to matter. until you realized that not everyone thought your closeness was endearing. especially not son hyejoo.

you’d heard the rumors about her before you ever exchanged words. she was the kind of girl who could make or break your social life with a single look. and somehow—of course—beomgyu got hers. she liked him. or maybe it was the idea of him: the boy with the easy smile, the boy people listened to, the boy who had potential. and he liked that she liked him. you watched it happen in real time—how he started sitting with her group, how he stopped waiting for you after class, how he laughed louder when he was with them, as if to prove something.

you didn’t say anything the first time he ignored you in the hallway. you didn’t say anything the second time either. but you started to feel it. the ache. the bitterness.

then came the cafeteria incident.

you can still feel the sickly-sweet stickiness of the juice dripping down your hair, soaking into your clothes, the weight of a thousand eyes on you as the sound of laughter exploded like fireworks.

"oops," hyejoo had said, her voice saccharine, lips curled into a smirk. "maybe watch where you're going next time."

you hadn’t touched her. you knew it. she knew it. everyone knew it. but no one said anything.

and beomgyu—beomgyu was right there. just a few feet away. sitting at the table with lee jeno, yang jeongin, kang yeosang, yoo jimin, shin ryujin, and shim jayoon. they were all laughing. pointing. except him.

he didn’t laugh.

he just watched you. eyes unreadable. lips in a tight line.

and then he turned away.

he... turned away...

that was the moment, you think.

not when he stopped being your friend— but when he proved he didn’t want to be.

you walked out of that cafeteria drenched and humiliated, but you didn’t cry. you didn’t give them that. what you gave them instead was silence.

you stopped acknowledging him. on the street. at school. in every space where your lives used to overlap.

it was almost laughable, how fate seemed to enjoy your misery. you ended up at the same high school, the same class, even seated next to each other on the very first day.

“i’d like to request a seat change,” you said, before the teacher even finished the roll call. your voice was steady. clear. “i don’t want to sit next to him.”

the class went silent. you could feel the way everyone stared, eyes flicking between you and beomgyu like they were waiting for a scandal to erupt.

kim chaewon, ever the peacemaker, raised her hand with a soft smile. “i can switch with her, if that’s okay.”

and just like that, you moved a few seats behind him.

he didn’t say anything.

he didn’t need to.

the coldness in his posture said it all. the tension. the subtle way he avoided your gaze, like your very existence annoyed him. and maybe it did. maybe he hated you now, too.

no one ever asked for details. no one really wanted the truth. they were satisfied with your vague, bitter shrugs and dry mutters of “he’s just a shitty person.”

and maybe he was. but he wasn’t always.

and maybe that’s what hurt the most.

you didn’t hate beomgyu because he was cruel.

you hated him because he used to be kind.

you hated him because he knew you better than anyone else ever had— and still chose to become a stranger.

you hadn’t seen it coming—university.

you didn’t expect that of all the people in the world, of all the schools, dorms, and friend groups, life would throw choi fucking beomgyu back into your orbit like some cruel joke written by a bored god.

you were here to reinvent yourself. to study psychology, bury yourself in theory and case studies, figure out how minds worked—maybe even understand why people hurt others for no reason. why best friends stopped being best friends. and beomgyu... you assumed he’d vanish with the rest of your high school nightmares.

but no. the universe, in all its twisted humor, made sure you ended up not just in the same university, but tangled in overlapping circles.

he majored in music. of course he did. you remembered how his face lit up in elementary school when he talked about melodies and chords, how his fingers clumsily pressed the keys of the tiny keyboard his dad gave him—only ever managing to play twinkle, twinkle, little star on loop, again and again until it was stuck in your head for days. in middle school, before everything went to shit, you’d heard whispers that he was learning guitar.

but after that—after he became someone else—you stopped caring. whether he mastered guitar or became a world-famous composer, it didn’t matter. he was nothing to you. just a shadow in your past. a ghost of someone who didn’t deserve to occupy your thoughts.

still, there he was. loud laughter across the quad. cigarette tucked behind his ear. headphones always hanging from his neck like an accessory. and worst of all, always around.

because the first friends you made in your dorm—soobin and yeonjun—just happened to be close to him. not best friendsclose, but hang-out-every-weekend close. and suddenly, your peaceful, beomgyu-free college fantasy went up in smoke.

you didn’t avoid him. no. that would’ve given him power. instead, you pretended like he didn’t exist. like he was air. stale, annoying air you occasionally had to breathe in. when he entered the room, you didn’t flinch. when he laughed too loud, you rolled your eyes. and when he spoke, you replied with thinly veiled sarcasm, the kind that made soobin squirm and yeonjun whistle through his teeth.

“what’s up with you two?” soobin asked once after beomgyu left a movie night early, mumbling something about a project. you didn’t answer. just shrugged and kept scrolling through your phone.

they didn’t push.

they could feel the tension. everyone could.

until that one night—the fraternity party.

you weren’t even going to go. but yeonjun begged. promised cheap drinks and good music and "no drama, babe, just fun."

liar.

you ended up on the worn-down leather couch in the corner of the frat house, a red solo cup in your hand, with your legs draped lazily over chaewon’s lap, head already buzzing. soobin was next to you, half-listening to a story yeonjun was telling about a disastrous tinder date, as you and the others fell into another round of drunk-university-party conversations.

chaewon—your anchor in the chaos of young adulthood—was laughing at what yeonjun had just said, cheeks flushed from the wine coolers she’d been sipping since you arrived. she nudged your thigh.

“this is kinda fun,” she murmured with a grin, eyes scanning the room. “it’s nice seeing you not buried in your notes or complaining about freud for once.”

“freud’s a menace,” you replied, deadpan. “but yeah, i guess... this is tolerable.”

soobin was perched on the arm of the couch beside yeonjun, who was starting to look glazed over, his hand swirling his drink like it held the answers to life.

and of course, it was only a matter of time before the conversation turned.

“okay, okay, but like...” yeonjun leaned in closer, squinting at you with exaggerated suspicion. “you still haven’t told us why you and beomgyu are always at each other’s throats.”

soobin raised his brows in agreement, shifting a little to face you.

“yeah, it’s like... one second he walks into a room and you’re suddenly the queen of sarcasm and shade. the tension is insane. you used to date or something?”

you groaned, letting your head fall back against the couch. “ugh. no. gross.”

“so what then?” yeonjun pushed, his tone teasing but curious.

chaewon chuckled softly. “i only know bits and pieces,” she added, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “she never really talks about it. anytime i asked in high school, she’d change the subject or pretend she didn’t hear me.”

you glanced at her. she wasn’t judging, just watching you carefully, giving you room if you wanted to take it.

and maybe it was the beer. maybe it was the fact that you were tired of the weird elephant always stomping through every hangout. or maybe it was because you were starting to realize that talking about it didn’t make it any less true.

so you shrugged, sitting up a little straighter, cup resting on your knee.

“we used to be friends,” you said simply. “like... actual friends. elementary school, mostly. did everything together. hung out after school. we’d sneak snacks into each other’s backpacks. he even let me write lyrics for the dumb little songs he made up when he first got that keyboard from his dad.”

chaewon blinked, surprised. soobin leaned in.

you continued, voice steady but colder now.

“but somewhere along the way—middle school, i think—he decided he wanted to be cool. and being cool meant hanging out with the kids who loved making my life miserable. the ones who called me names, who shoved my books off my desk, who made fun of how i dressed or talked or existed. and beomgyu... he laughed with them. he chose them.”

“damn,” yeonjun muttered, the mood shifting.

“he didn’t even look back,” you added, more to yourself than them. “just... left me there.”

the silence after that was a little too long. not uncomfortable, just heavy.

and then, because life is a master of bad timing, the front door creaked open. laughter spilled in along with a gust of cooler air. and there he was.

beomgyu walked in with that same lazy confidence he always had, hair a little messy, hoodie half-zipped, headphones hanging around his neck like an accessory he never actually used. he spotted your group almost instantly and started walking over.

yeonjun, without missing a beat, raised his hand in greeting and then pointed at him.

“you,” he said, loud and sloppy, a grin tugging at his lips. “we were just talking about you, asshole.”

beomgyu raised an eyebrow, amused. “oh yeah? good things, i hope.”

you didn’t even bother hiding your eye-roll.

“soooo,” yeonjun continued, half-laughing, half-serious, “did you really ditch her to be popular? that’s fucked up, man.”

beomgyu paused for a moment. then, slowly, he walked over and lowered himself onto the empty spot beside soobin, arms crossed over his chest, face unreadable.

“yeah,” he said. “i did.”

chaewon’s eyes darted between you and him, tension curling like smoke in the air.

“i mean,” beomgyu went on, voice cool, “we were kids. kids wanna fit in. kids make stupid decisions. i made mine.”

you scoffed. “you think that excuses it?”

he turned to you, his face carefully blank. “no. i’m just saying... people grow up. some faster than others.”

your jaw clenched. the cup in your hand crinkled slightly from the pressure.

“fuck you,” you said quietly, but not softly.

beomgyu laughed—a dry, humorless sound. “there it is. the victim complex. you’ve always had that down.”

“and you’ve always been a coward,” you snapped back. “you didn’t grow up. you just grew spineless. you couldn’t stand beside someone uncool because you were too scared of being uncool too.”

his eyes flashed then, something dark rising behind them, but he didn’t say anything. just stared.

chaewon’s hand found yours on your lap, grounding you with the gentlest squeeze.

soobin stood abruptly. “i need air.”

yeonjun followed a second later, mumbling something about refilling his drink, clearly regretting starting the whole thing.

and now it was just you and beomgyu on the couch. again.

he leaned back, head resting against the cushion, eyes closed.

“you always did know how to make an entrance,” he murmured.

you stared at him, hating how calm he looked.

“and you always knew how to ruin everything.”

you got up before he could answer.

you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of another comeback. not tonight.

the bathroom was the quietest place you could find. the fan buzzed softly overhead, doing little to clear the air of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne, but at least it was a buffer from the party outside. you sat on the closed toilet lid, your fingers clenched into the fabric of your jeans, heart still drumming a low, steady rhythm of frustration.

chaewon was crouched in front of you, her palms resting gently on your knees, her expression unreadable but calm—always calm, even when you couldn’t be.

“i’m sorry,” she said softly. “i didn’t know it was all... that deep.”

you didn’t answer immediately. the words were stuck behind the knot in your throat.

“i don’t talk about it,” you finally muttered. “not because i don’t remember. because i remember too well.”

chaewon’s lips pressed into a thin line. she didn’t try to hug you, didn’t try to distract you with jokes like others might. she just stayed there, solid and present, like she always did when the world spun too fast around you.

“you were kids,” she said after a beat. “but it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. it’s okay that it still does.”

you looked at her then. her eyes didn’t pity you—they understood you. and maybe that was what broke something open in your chest, just a little.

“i didn’t need him to defend me. i just needed him to not join them,” you whispered. “and he did.”

chaewon nodded slowly. “that kind of betrayal... it sticks.”

you exhaled shakily. she gave you a moment, then stood and offered her hand. “come on. let’s get some fresh air. you need to breathe somewhere that doesn’t smell like weed and heartbreak.”

you laughed, a short, bitter sound, but you took her hand anyway.

meanwhile, across the house, in a quieter corner near the sliding glass doors, beomgyu stood with a drink in one hand, the other stuffed in his hoodie pocket. he was staring out into the backyard like the answer to the past ten years was hiding behind someone’s half-inflated kiddie pool.

yeonjun walked up beside him, no longer smiling, his drunken haze thinning into something a little more sober, a little more serious.

“i didn’t think you’d admit it,” he said without preamble.

beomgyu didn’t look at him. “wasn’t really a secret, was it?”

yeonjun gave a low snort, but it wasn’t amused. “i mean, yeah. but... shit, man.”

beomgyu took a sip from his drink. “i didn’t come here to fight her. but you stirred the pot.”

yeonjun shrugged. “you made the soup.”

they both stood in silence for a beat, the music thumping from the living room like a heartbeat too loud to ignore.

“you know,” yeonjun added, voice quieter now, “i don’t think she hates you because you were a jerk. i think she hates you because you weren’t—not back then. and losing someone good like that fucks you up.”

beomgyu finally turned his head, meeting his friend’s gaze. his eyes were sharper now, less detached.

“i was scared,” he said, almost too low to hear. “those guys... they made my life hell before they liked me. i thought if i laughed with them, they’d leave me alone. and they did. but i had to choose.”

“and you didn’t choose her.”

“no,” he said, and there was no pride in it. “i didn’t.”

just then, soobin appeared beside them, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his expression strained, like he’d been holding his breath since the moment he walked away.

“sorry,” he muttered. “i had to step out. i... i felt like if i stayed, i’d implode or something.”

yeonjun raised an eyebrow. “you okay?”

soobin nodded, but it looked more like a twitch. “not really. i mean, yeah, but no. fuck. you guys didn’t feel that?”

beomgyu looked down at his cup. “every word.”

“she was shaking,” soobin murmured. “not visibly. but i could tell. she looked like she was holding it all together with a thread.”

yeonjun ran a hand through his hair. “she was.”

the three of them stood in a triangle of shame, regret, and something unspoken that clung to the space between them.

soobin’s voice was the one to cut through it again. “so what now? you gonna keep pretending it didn’t happen, gyu?”

beomgyu didn’t answer right away. then he drained the rest of his drink and muttered, “nah. pretending’s never worked for me.”

yeonjun arched a brow. “what does that mean?”

beomgyu looked up, his gaze locked on the doorway where you’d disappeared minutes before with chaewon.

“it means i’m not done with this. not by a long shot.”

i'm gonna be fine, you left alone can i heal the wounds myself?

it happened a few days later, during a gray tuesday that smelled like leftover rain and wet concrete. you’d just finished a psychology lab with chaewon and were walking back toward the dorms alone, hoodie pulled tight over your head, earbuds in, trying to disappear into the low hum of city pop.

but the universe, always cruel and deeply committed to irony, had other plans. he was leaning against the brick wall near the entrance, arms crossed, eyes trained on you like he’d been waiting a while. beomgyu. same mop of dark hair, same posture that screamed too-cool-to-care, but his eyes—those were different. quieter. tired.

you pulled out your earbuds and sighed, already exhausted by the conversation you hadn’t even had yet.

“can we talk?” he asked, voice low, unsure.

you didn’t stop walking. just kept heading toward the entrance, as if your momentum could carry you past him without consequence. but of course, it didn’t. he fell in step beside you.

“just five minutes,” he tried again. “please.”

you stopped so suddenly he almost bumped into you. your eyes burned as they met his, and your voice came out colder than you expected, like winter had rooted itself in your lungs.

“what do you want from me?” you asked. “apologies? closure? a second chance at being a decent human being?”

beomgyu’s mouth opened, but you cut him off before he could try.

“i don’t want anything from you. not an explanation, not regret, not even guilt. nothing.”

he flinched slightly, the movement barely there, but you caught it.

“you don’t get to waltz back into my life just because you finally decided to grow a conscience,” you continued. “i’ve spent years learning how to breathe without you in the air. don’t you dare try to choke me with your presence again.”

you could tell your words hit him, maybe deeper than you meant to. his mouth was a thin, pale line now. he looked like he wanted to say something—maybe to defend himself, maybe to beg—but you didn’t care.

“just disappear,” you said, voice steady, final. “if there’s one thing you can do for me now, it’s that. disappear.”

and for once in his life, beomgyu actually listened.

he never tried again. he avoided places you frequented, never joined mutual hangouts unless you weren’t coming, and your friends—soobin, yeonjun, chaewon—they respected your silence like it was sacred scripture. everyone understood: the wound was too deep, the scar too sensitive. it wasn’t just history. it was trauma.

and then the years passed.

five of them, to be exact.

by the time the fifth one rolled around, you were no longer that angry, betrayed girl from university. you’d graduated with honors, completed your internship at a mental health clinic, even started working with children on the spectrum. you’d fallen in love. truly, profoundly, messily in love—with someone who wasn’t beomgyu.

kang taehyun.

you met him at a post-graduation mixer. marine biology major with a calm voice, shy eyes, and a laugh that made your chest bloom with warmth. he was the kind of guy who brought flowers for no reason, who always remembered your coffee order, who waited outside your night classes with an umbrella when it rained. you didn’t expect it, but somehow, slowly, it became everything.

you met his best friend, huening kai, who instantly adored you, calling you “noona” and sending memes at 3am. your little trio had beach picnics, study sessions, lazy sunday brunches where taehyun would rest his head on your lap and read aloud from whatever animal behavior article he was obsessed with that week. he made promises—so many of them. to stay, to love, to build something that wouldn’t crumble.

you believed him.

and you weren’t naive. you didn’t expect perfection. but you saw a future. you wanted it. late-night talks under blankets turned into quiet conversations about rings and cities you could live in. when he asked you if you’d move to jeju with him someday, you said yes without hesitation.

he said he wanted to marry you. he said he saw kids—two, maybe three, with your eyes and his dimples.

you thought you were safe.

but then came the internship offer. antarctica. nine months. field research. you smiled, encouraged him, kissed him before he left. wrote long emails. sent him care packages full of love letters and seaweed snacks.

when he came back, he was distant.

and when he ended it, it wasn’t dramatic. it was calm. heartbreakingly calm.

“i love you,” he said, hands shaking. “but i don’t want this. not the house. not the wedding. not the life you deserve. i want to travel, i want to work with endangered species, i want to spend months underwater and years away. and i’m not... i’m not willing to bring you with me.”

“i’ll go with you,” you’d said, crying, desperate, broken open. “taehyun, i don’t care where we are. i just want to be with you.”

but he shook his head.

“you’d get tired. eventually, you’d start asking me to stay, and i’d hate you for it. and you’d hate me for choosing fish over forever.”

it was the cruelest kind of love. the one that was real, but not enough.

so he left.

and you didn’t try to stop him again.

don't, don't lose my mind, dream of you again and i look at you as it fell

you were halfway through your second slice of avocado toast, sipping on orange juice and skimming through appointment logs when your phone buzzed against the laminated table. chaewon looked up from her yogurt bowl, raising an eyebrow at your distracted smile.

“who is it?” she asked, voice still wrapped in morning laziness.

you didn’t answer right away. you were too busy rereading the message.

huening kai: noonaaa 🥺 i’m getting married!! can you believe it??? i really hope you can come. it would mean a lot to me. she’s the one, i swear. you’ll love her. the wedding’s in two months — i sent you two tickets, in case you wanna bring someone special 😏 click the link below for your boarding passes & rsvp 💌 i miss you.

you choked.

like, actually choked.

orange juice went down the wrong pipe, and you doubled over in your chair coughing, one hand on your chest, the other waving chaewon off as she jumped to her feet in panic.

“are you okay? oh my god, did you swallow a bee? what’s happening?”

you managed to wheeze, “kai. he’s—he’s getting married.”

“what?” she blinked, stunned. “kai? as in taehyun’s kai?”

you nodded, eyes wide, phone shaking slightly in your grip. she leaned over to read the message and let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “holy shit. that was fast.”

you slumped back in your chair, staring at the screen like it held the secrets of the universe. “i barely met her twice. she was sweet, yeah, but—marriage? already?”

chaewon bit her bottom lip, then took a slow sip of her coffee. “he sent you two tickets. that’s cute. very optimistic of him.”

you didn’t reply. your thoughts had already spiraled ahead, crashing violently into one very obvious, very haunting possibility.

“he’ll be there,” you murmured.

“taehyun,” chaewon confirmed quietly.

you stared at your untouched toast, appetite completely obliterated. the clinic’s soft background music suddenly felt too loud, the sun too bright, the smell of oranges cloying. your stomach twisted, unfamiliar tension knotting in your chest.

it had been almost a year since you last saw taehyun. nearly five since you met him. and still, even now, his name had the power to freeze you mid-breath, to summon ghosts of promises that had once felt like scripture.

“do you think he’ll bring someone?” you asked, trying to sound casual. it came out hollow.

chaewon didn’t answer immediately. instead, she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes in that way she always did when she was about to say something ridiculous but necessary.

“okay,” she said, setting her spoon down with a decisive little clink. “then you’ll just have to make him regret everything.”

you blinked. “what?”

“you heard me. you’re going to go. you’re going to look insanely hot. and you’re going to bring someone who makes taehyun feel like he just let go of the woman of the century.”

“that’s ridiculous,” you scoffed, trying to hide the way your heart suddenly beat faster. “i’m not that petty.”

“you’re not,” she agreed. “but i am. and you deserve this. you deserve to walk into that wedding and remind him that while he was out falling in love with penguins and sea lions, you were healing. and thriving. and looking like a goddamn greek goddess.”

you laughed, but it came out shaky. her words were half a joke, half a battle cry.

“it still hurts,” you admitted, barely a whisper.

“i know,” she said, gently this time, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “but you don’t have to go alone. not to this. not ever.”

you looked back down at the message. kai’s digital smile practically beamed from the screen. he was getting married. he was happy. and despite everything—despite the silent weight of memory and heartbreak—you felt a tiny spark of happiness for him.

but taehyun would be there.

and maybe, just maybe, it was time he saw exactly what he’d walked away from.

the stars were shinning to me away, whispering "i want you to know you're my world"

chaewon reminded you that yeonjun's birthday was coming up, so you needed to buy a good gift. but what could it be? even though your mind was still preoccupied with kai's wedding, you decided to accompany her to buy the presents — since you were also planning to get something for him anyway.

yeonjun’s birthday parties were never modest. he had a reputation to uphold—not only as a top model, gracing magazines and runways alike, but as a host who knew how to turn any ordinary night into something cinematic. the kind of night people whispered about in green rooms and studio corners. the kind of night that started with champagne and ended with stolen glances and stories never told.

his penthouse was glowing in warm light, the skyline of the city bleeding gold and indigo through the vast windows. soft jazz played in the background, blending with laughter and the pop of corks, and everything smelled like vanilla and cashmere and something expensive you couldn’t name.

you were there early, with chaewon by your side, both of you dressed to impress—but not to steal the spotlight. that belonged to yeonjun, as always. soobin was already there, hand in hand with his girlfriend, who wore something pastel and silk, glowing with that gentle charm only she could pull off. you greeted them casually, sharing a quick toast before settling in with your drink, your dress hugging you like a second skin.

you hadn’t expected to see him.

beomgyu arrived later, not with fanfare, but quietly. like a ripple in a calm lake. he wasn’t the same boy you remembered, not even close. gone were the oversized hoodies, the ever-present headphones slung around his neck, the cigarette tucked behind his ear like a secret he wasn’t ready to part with. now, he wore tailored grey trousers that fell just right over his shoes, a black button-up rolled to the elbows revealing tan, toned forearms, a silver watch glinting under the soft chandelier lights. a single, delicate chain hung around his neck, subtle but striking. his hair was darker now, styled back with just enough softness to suggest he didn’t try too hard.

he looked expensive.

he smelled like sandalwood and clean linen and a memory you couldn’t quite place.

he greeted everyone with a quiet smile, hugging yeonjun, nodding at soobin, offering chaewon a gentle hello. and then his eyes found yours.

there was no tension in his shoulders. no arrogance in his walk. just... calm. time had smoothed the sharpness out of him. when he stepped closer, you stood tall, chin high. he offered his hand—polite, formal. “it’s been a while,” he said simply.

you shook it. firm grip. warm palm. “yeah,” you replied, meeting his gaze for one single, suspended second.

you looked for a ghost. but found a man.

chaewon nudged your arm the moment he moved on. “okay. wow. what was that?”

you didn’t answer. you just stared into your drink, letting the ice kiss your lips as you tried to quiet the drumbeat that had started in your chest.

“he’s changed,” she murmured, and you could only nod.

“you’re still thinking about the wedding, aren’t you?” chaewon pressed, playfully cruel in the way best friends always are.

“shut up,” you said, but your voice held no real bite.

you were thinking about it. still hadn’t found someone to take. your list of candidates was short, and honestly, pathetic. yeonjun was out of the question. he was your friend, yes, but also a model with a fragile PR image. dragging him to a wedding in another city would spark more rumors than your heart could handle. soobin was obviously unavailable, and most of your other male friends were either married, emotionally unavailable, or both.

and then there was beomgyu.

you looked over again—couldn’t help it. he was seated now, at the bar, sipping something amber and neat. he laughed at something yeonjun’s bartender said, his profile catching the light just enough to make your heart do a tiny, traitorous leap. his jaw was sharper now. his skin clearer. he looked like success disguised as mystery.

you knew his alias now, whispered among industry people like folklore—“GHOSTGYU”, the producer no one could quite pin down. no interviews. no live appearances. just music. always music. his beats had shaped some of the biggest hits of the year, but no one really knew him.

except you.

and even then, you weren’t sure anymore.

a dangerous, fleeting thought slipped past your defenses.

what if i asked him to go with me?

you froze, glass hovering midair.

no. absolutely not. that was ridiculous. crazy.

but the thought didn’t leave. it clung to you like perfume. persistent. seductive. as you watched him roll the glass between his fingers, as he leaned back in his seat with a grace that wasn’t there before, you wondered if asking him would be revenge, redemption, or something far more dangerous.

you didn’t want to care.

and yet, you did.

more with every passing second.

he disappeared for a while, drifting from the bar like smoke in the breeze. you didn’t notice at first—your mind was too busy pretending it wasn’t spinning. but when you turned your head and found the stool next to yours empty, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. you took the opportunity to refill your glass, fingers trembling slightly as you reached for the bottle. the coolness of the liquid was grounding. it kept you still. sane. focused.

you didn’t hear him come back. you just felt the shift in the air, like when a storm changes direction.

he sat beside you again, just as casually as before. no warning. no preamble. just him, leaning slightly over the bar, sipping from his glass like he hadn’t just left a crater in your chest by existing. he didn’t say anything at first. didn’t even look your way. but you could feel him, every inch of him, in your periphery—his scent, his quiet presence, the weight of his stillness.

when you turned your head, a little startled, your eyes met his.

his gaze wasn’t sharp or guarded like it had been years ago. it was calm now, curious maybe, with a hint of something unreadable beneath the surface. something too deep to touch without getting pulled in.

“how have you been?” he asked softly, as if it hadn’t been years. as if it were normal to ask that while sipping whiskey at a birthday party under city lights, after everything that had happened.

you blinked. once. then again. the question sounded simple, but it wasn’t. it cracked something open. and you weren’t sure you liked the feeling.

“i’ve been... good,” you said finally, the word catching a little on your tongue. “working. surviving. you know.”

your tone was neutral, maybe even too polite, but your body was stiff, your spine too straight.

he nodded, a slight tilt of his head. “it’s been a long time.”

you didn’t answer.

“i remember the last time we talked,” he continued, voice just above a whisper. “you told me not to show my face again.”

you inhaled sharply. of course he remembered. you did too. you remembered everything—his voice cracking when he apologized, your tears burning your cheeks, the tremble in your fingers as you pointed to the door and told him to leave. it had been final. absolute. like slamming a book shut in the middle of a chapter.

“yeah,” you said, finally meeting his eyes. “i did.”

his shoulders tensed a little, barely perceptible. but you noticed. “and yet here i am.”

you chuckled, bitter and short. “i guess the universe has a sense of humor.”

there was a silence then. not uncomfortable, but heavy. like it needed to exist for the next words to mean something. you stared into your glass, watching the ice melt slowly, as if the answer you needed was buried at the bottom.

and then, like a dam breaking—your voice was low, deliberate, but steady.

“do you still want me to accept your apology?”

he turned to you fully this time, caught off guard. “what?”

you looked at him. really looked at him. the face that had haunted your dreams and your worst nights. softer now. older. but still him. “you apologized,” you said. “but i didn’t accept it. i wasn’t ready.”

he nodded slowly. “i remember.”

“well,” you began, the fear rising like bile in your throat. “i might be. now.”

his brow furrowed slightly. “what does that mean?”

you hesitated. god, it felt so ridiculous now that it was about to come out of your mouth. but it was the only thing you could think of—the only way to keep the balance of power from tipping, the only way to keep yourself from being too vulnerable. so you wrapped the truth in a dare.

“it means... if you want me to even consider accepting it, you’ll have to do me a favor.”

he blinked. twice. confused, visibly, as his fingers stilled around his glass. “a favor?”

you nodded.

“what kind of favor?”

you stared straight ahead, the words burning their way up from your chest. “i need a date. for a wedding.”

he almost choked on his drink, coughing once as he looked at you incredulously. “a wedding? you want me to go with you to a wedding? me?”

you gave a weak shrug. “yeah. you.”

“but you—i mean, you hate me.”

you sighed, exhaling years of anger and heartbreak in a single breath. “i don’t hate you, beomgyu. not anymore.”

he stared, waiting. you turned to him finally, your voice quieter now. “i wouldn’t say you’re my favorite person in the world. and i wouldn’t say we’re... okay. but this is an emergency. and the list of people i trust enough to not make this weird is... short.”

he didn’t respond right away. he was too stunned, trying to piece together what this meant. if it was a trap. if it was a test. if it was real.

you looked at him again, eyes searching his. “so. will you help me?”

he didn’t answer yet. but you could see the question dancing in his gaze, the one he wouldn’t say out loud—what the hell happened to us?

and maybe, just maybe, this favor wasn’t about forgiveness.

maybe it was the beginning of something else entirely.

he looked away for a moment, lips pressing into a thin line before he bit the bottom one—nervously, like he was holding back words that wanted to escape. he let out a shaky breath, nostrils flaring slightly. and for the first time that night, he looked... scared.

you could see it. not just in his eyes, but in the tension of his shoulders, in the way he kept shifting slightly on the stool. he’s remembering, you thought. and he was.

he was remembering that party.

the one where you’d confronted him, voice trembling with rage and heartbreak. the one where, instead of being the person you needed, he laughed. made light of it. mocked your pain because he was too much of a coward to face the ugliness of what he'd done. he hadn’t apologized back then. not really. he’d smirked and said something like “i was shitty. so what?”like that was enough. like that made it okay.

he felt the weight of it now. years later. he’d felt it the moment your eyes found his tonight and they weren’t warm anymore. they weren’t familiar. they were sharp. cold. distant. and it had torn something open in him, something that had never really healed. he didn’t consider himself a victim—but god, it had hurt to realize he was someone you had to protect yourself from. someone who used to be your safe place, and then became a wound.

he swallowed hard, voice a little hoarse. “why me?”

you didn’t flinch. “i told you. i need someone i can trust to play the part. and despite... everything, i know you won’t make it worse.”

he looked at you for a long moment, expression unreadable. then finally, he nodded, slowly. “okay.”

you blinked, surprised. “okay?”

“yeah.” he exhaled, almost like he couldn’t believe himself. “i’ll do it.”

two days later, you met him at a quiet coffee shop tucked between bookstores and vintage vinyl stores, the kind of place you used to frequent in college. nostalgia clung to the wooden walls and smelled faintly of cinnamon and ink. you sat by the window, fiddling with your phone until the bell above the door rang.

you looked up—and there he was.

beomgyu walked in with sunglasses covering his eyes, messy dark hair falling over his forehead, wearing a white shirt that clung to his chest and jeans that hinted at the fact that maybe, just maybe, he’d been putting in work at the gym. your breath caught slightly. you hated that it did.

“hey,” he said, sliding into the seat across from you.

you nodded. “hey.”

there was a pause before either of you said anything else. then you cleared your throat. “okay, so. the wedding’s in two weeks.”

he leaned back, arms crossed. “whose wedding is it?”

you hesitated. “he’s... a friend. of my ex.”

his head tilted slightly. “ex?”

you gave a little nod. “his name’s taehyun. we were together for two years.”

something flickered across his face—surprise, a shadow of something deeper—but he kept his voice even. “i didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“you didn’t know a lot of things,” you said, almost too quietly.

he didn’t argue.

“kai is the one getting married. taehyun’s best friend. he gave me two tickets. and it’s a big deal—expensive venue, guest list full of people i used to know. i didn’t want to go alone.”

beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “so... you want me to come with you. to pretend we’re...?”

“a couple,” you finished.

he sat with that for a second, then chuckled bitterly. “so you want to make your ex jealous.”

you froze.

you hadn’t planned on saying it like that. you hadn’t even wanted to admit it, not out loud. but now, with the words dangling between you like a noose, you could only nod. “...yeah.”

he stared at you, then dragged a hand down his face, sighing. “jesus.”

“you can back out,” you said quickly, defensive. “i won’t hold it against you.”

but he didn’t. instead, he tapped his fingers against his thigh, thinking. after a long pause, he met your eyes again. “so i have to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

you nodded, trying to sound casual. “yep.”

he leaned forward slightly. “you do realize that means a lot of skinship, right?”

you blinked. “what?”

“holding hands. arms around waists. maybe even... i don’t know, kisses on the cheek? forehead?” he shrugged, but his voice was tight. careful. “are you comfortable with that?”

you hesitated. you hadn’t thought that far ahead. hadn’t wanted to. you could feel your pulse pick up, the idea of him touching you again sending conflicting signals through your brain—alarm bells and something else. something warmer.

but you forced a shrug. “we don’t have a choice. it has to look real.”

he nodded slowly. “alright.”

and then, you got to work.

“so, when did we start dating?”

you bit your lip. “six months ago?”

he smirked faintly. “sounds reasonable. what do we like doing together?”

“karaoke,” you said immediately, smiling at the memory of those nights when you were still friends. “you always picked the worst songs.”

“hey,” he laughed. “those were bangers.”

you rolled your eyes. “you once sang an anime opening in front of my parents.”

he grinned, and for a moment, it felt... like the past. like before everything burned down.

“okay, so,” he said, pulling out his phone. “we need a list. favorite restaurant. inside jokes. maybe a fake anniversary date.”

as he typed, you watched him. really watched him.

and you wondered—not for the first time—if this elaborate lie was going to lead you straight into the truth.

because maybe... just maybe... it never really ended between you two.

every time i'm crazy is because of you if you're looking right at me is because of love?

you had texted him that morning. short, to the point: “we should rehearse. come over around 6?”

he didn’t reply right away, but when he did, it was a simple “okay.”

you spent most of the afternoon pretending not to be nervous, cleaning surfaces that didn’t need cleaning, lighting a candle you usually reserved for guests. this was just beomgyu. and it wasn’t even real. except it had to feel real. that was the whole point.

when he rang the bell, you didn’t check yourself in the mirror. didn’t fix your hair. but your heart still skipped when you opened the door and found him standing there with a tote bag slung over his shoulder, black hoodie zipped halfway, his hair tousled like he hadn’t thought twice about it. he looked casual. effortless. you hated that it made your stomach turn.

“hey,” he said, eyes flicking down to your socks—mismatched—and then back to your face. “you ready to get fake engaged or whatever this is?”

you snorted. “not engaged. just... convincingly coupled.”

he stepped in, the scent of rain on his jacket mixing with your vanilla candle, and as he walked further into your space, you pulled out your phone with a flutter in your chest.

kai’s message was still open.

“let me know if you’re bringing someone. taehyun’s dying to know lol.”

you stared at it for a second, then typed.

“yes. i’m bringing someone. can’t wait for the wedding 🥂”

sent.

you didn’t overthink it. at least, not more than you already had.

your apartment smelled like vanilla, soft wood, and something citrusy that he couldn’t name but felt deeply you. beomgyu stepped inside slowly, letting the door close behind him as he looked around.

“wow,” he muttered, genuinely impressed. “this is... cozy.”

you raised an eyebrow. “cozy?”

he nodded, turning in place as his eyes landed on the framed photos, the neatly arranged books, the record player with a few vintage vinyls on display. “it’s just... you. like, unmistakably you.”

you smiled, a little embarrassed. “i try to keep it nice.”

he hummed, walking over to a small shelf, fingers grazing the spine of a poetry book. “it’s really nice.”

he turned back to you and for a second, neither of you said anything. then you clapped your hands once. “okay! let’s get into it.”

“right,” he said, shaking his head a little as if to clear it. “we’re fake dating. gotta make it look real.”

you both sat on the couch, knees brushing. you hadn’t meant for that to happen, but neither of you moved.

“so...” you began, “public displays of affection. we should probably practice.”

“yeah.” his voice came out rougher than expected. “makes sense.”

you reached out, hesitating before taking his hand. his fingers curled instinctively around yours. warm. familiar. a spark zipped through you and you knew he felt it too when he looked up, eyes wide and surprised.

“this okay?” you asked quietly.

he nodded once. “yeah. just... warm.”

you both laughed, trying to shake it off. but the air had already shifted.

“okay,” he said, forcing a grin. “let’s try something easier. karaoke.”

you perked up. “you sure?”

“you said we do it all the time as a couple, right? we better sell it.”

you loaded the song. one you both knew, but had never sung together. and yet, the moment the first beat dropped, it was like muscle memory. you both knew the words. the timing. the moves.

he looked at you, stunned. “no way.”

“don’t tell me you know the choreo too,” you teased, already stepping back into position.

he smirked. “you’re on.”

the two of you danced, laughing, off-key and dramatic. he twirled you once, then again. and when the chorus hit, he spun you into his arms, pulling you close. too close.

you were both laughing when it happened.

his arms wrapped around your waist. your hands rested on his chest. his breath hitched as your eyes met.

neither of you moved.

not right away.

his lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something—but nothing came. because this wasn’t rehearsed. this wasn’t fake.

it was just you. and him. flushed. breathless.

“sorry,” he whispered, stepping back.

you cleared your throat, heart pounding. “it’s fine. that’s... what couples do, right?”

“right.” he nodded. “totally normal.”

you both sat down again. this time, farther apart.

your hand brushed his when you reached for the remote and both of you flinched.

he glanced at you, eyes unreadable. “so... more practice?”

you nodded. “yeah. we’re getting good at this.”

but neither of you looked convinced.

in the days leading up to the wedding, your fake relationship had taken on a life of its own.

you went on more “dates” to build chemistry—coffee shops, galleries, night walks pretending to be that kind of couple who couldn't keep their hands to themselves. from the outside, it looked picture-perfect. inside, it was a storm. every casual brush of his fingers against yours, every accidental glance held too long, every laugh that turned into silence too quick—it all felt like a fucking heart attack.

it was only supposed to be a favor. a role. a lie dressed up in borrowed intimacy. but your body didn’t know that. your chest didn’t know that.

and neither did beomgyu’s.

especially not the night you were in your apartment again, this time sitting on the floor of your bedroom, surrounded by shoes, accessories, and two dress bags hanging off your closet door. the scent of fabric softener and his cologne filled the room, cozy but heavy. familiar but charged.

he was holding his tie, trying to decide between navy or burgundy, when he suddenly said, “this feels weird, right?”

you looked up from your heels, confused. “what?”

“us,” he said. “doing this. pretending. acting like none of it ever happened.”

the air stilled.

you didn’t answer immediately. your fingers froze on the strap of your shoe, heart kicking against your ribs.

“i know this is a favor,” he said, voice quieter now, “but i don’t want to keep pretending this is just about the wedding. i mean... not in that way, i just—i don’t want to keep dodging everything that’s still between us.”

you blinked, throat dry. “beomgyu—”

“no, listen. please.” he leaned back on his palms, gaze locked on the ceiling like he was too afraid to look at you. “i fucked up back then. i know i did. and it took me a long time to understand it. i was stupid and selfish and cruel. and i acted like it was funny. like it didn’t matter. but it did. and seeing you now... how much you’ve grown, how strong you are—shit, it kills me that i’m not part of your life the way i used to be.”

his voice cracked, just a little.

“i don’t want us to keep pretending this is easy,” he said. “because it’s not. not for me.”

you stared at him. at his jaw clenched tight, the way his chest rose and fell too fast. you weren’t expecting any of this. not tonight. not ever.

and yet, a part of you had waited for it.

“i hated you,” you said softly. “i hated the way you laughed when i cried. the way you dismissed what you did, made it seem like it was just... nothing. i hated the way you looked at me afterwards, like i was the one who’d changed.”

his shoulders slumped.

“but the thing is,” you continued, voice trembling, “i can’t keep living in that hate. i carried it for years and it only made me bitter. i can’t undo the past. and yeah, you hurt me. more than i thought someone like you ever could. but if you’re here now, helping me with this, putting yourself in this mess just because i asked... then maybe you do mean it. maybe you really are sorry.”

you looked at him, finally, and he was already looking back at you—eyes glossy, jaw tight, like he was holding something back.

“i accept your apology,” you said. “not because everything’s okay now. but because i want to stop letting what happened define how i feel. i want to move forward. and if that means... giving you another chance to show me who you are now—then fine.”

he swallowed hard. “thank you.”

“don’t thank me,” you murmured, “just don’t fuck it up.”

that made him smile. a real one. small and crooked, but warm.

you sat there in silence for a while, surrounded by silk and suits and the faint hum of the night through your window. it wasn’t peace exactly. it was something messier. raw. true.

and though you wouldn’t admit it—not yet—something in you shifted. you saw him. not the boy who broke your heart, but the man who was trying to make amends.

maybe it wasn’t love.

but it was something.

and it was terrifying.

to me it's a pretty wonderland, do not make cry again, i need you right now

the day of the wedding arrived cloaked in golden sunlight and nerves. your stomach was a mess of tangled wires—part excitement, part dread, and part something else you didn’t dare to name. standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom, you took a deep breath, hands smoothing down the soft folds of your dress. the fabric hugged your figure like a second skin—champagne satin with a low back and off-the-shoulder sleeves, the kind of dress that whispered luxury without screaming for attention. your earrings were subtle, your makeup warm and glowing. you looked ethereal. untouchable.

and then beomgyu stepped into the room, and your breath hitched in your throat.

he was wearing a tailored suit in a shade of deep, muted green, like pine trees in twilight. his tie matched your dress—a soft, pearlescent champagne—and the pocket square carried the same satin sheen. his hair was swept back effortlessly, a touch of curl still framing his forehead, and when he smiled at you, something inside you twisted painfully.

“you look beautiful,” he murmured, offering his hand. “ready to go make everyone jealous?”

you took his hand, heart hammering in your chest. “as i’ll ever be.”

on the ride to the venue, you kept rehearsing the things you were meant to feel. calm. confident. committed to the lie.

but instead, your hands trembled slightly. your heart wouldn’t slow down.

was it beomgyu? or was it the thought of taehyun?

the venue was breathtaking.

a glass-roofed reception hall nestled between rolling hills, draped in ivory florals and soft hanging lights. the sound of string instruments floated through the air, delicate and romantic. people were milling about in elegant attire, laughter ringing like champagne flutes clinking together. when you and beomgyu stepped inside, you felt all eyes drift in your direction.

you were holding hands.

and it wasn’t just for show—his grip was grounding you, firm and unshakable, like he knew your insides were a storm.

“smile,” he whispered against your ear as you walked. “we’re the couple of the evening.”

you found the newlyweds near the stage, glowing in white and silver, all laughter and tears. kai pulled you into a warm hug, wide grin on his face. “you made it!” he turned to glance between you and beomgyu. “and you brought your plus one, just like you said.”

you handed over their gift, a carefully wrapped box in gold paper. “i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

they thanked you and guided you to your assigned table. the moment you saw the names, your heart sank. table 5. with taehyun’s old group. fuck.

and there he was.

kang taehyun.

he looked devastating in a black tux that fit like sin, his hair slightly tousled like he hadn’t tried but somehow looked perfect anyway. when he saw you, his expression changed—slowly, subtly, like recognition blooming across his features. your eyes met, and the air between you snapped taut. your breath caught. it’s him. he looked at you like you were the last person he expected and the only one he wanted to see.

he stood up.

and you—traitor of your own heart—you moved toward him.

drawn like a magnet, like gravity had shifted in his direction.

but before your hand could reach his, before you could even form a hi, beomgyu’s hand extended first, sliding into taehyun’s like a blade between ribs.

“hey,” he said smoothly, “i’m choi beomgyu. y/n’s boyfriend.”

it landed like a gunshot.

taehyun blinked. once. twice. his smile wavered, confusion flashing across his face like lightning. “boyfriend?” he echoed, the word like ash in his mouth.

your heart slammed into your ribs.

“it’s been a while, tae,” you said, stepping in quickly. the nickname rolled off your tongue like honey and broken memories. beomgyu’s eyes flicked to you sharply.

taehyun looked at you, still dazed. “yeah... yeah, it has.”

you greeted the others—yuna, wonjin, and a couple more you barely remembered but who definitely remembered you.they exchanged glances. curious. surprised. maybe even suspicious.

“i thought you two would come together,” yuna said, her tone sweet, but her eyes sharp.

taehyun cleared his throat.

“we broke up about a year ago,” you explained simply, sitting down. your hand stayed in beomgyu’s.

“so...” wonjin glanced between you and beomgyu. “who’s this guy?”

beomgyu leaned in, voice casual. “boyfriend,” he repeated, smiling. “been together for a while now.”

the questions came like a tidal wave. how long? where did you meet? how serious was it?

you and beomgyu handled them like pros—laughing, teasing, nudging each other like you were deeply in sync. you could feel taehyun’s eyes on you, every fucking second, and you hated how your body still reacted.

but then he asked.

“how did you two meet?”

and the world froze.

you opened your mouth. no sound came out. nothing. panic gripped you like ice.

that detail, the most basic of all, had somehow slipped through your careful planning.

you looked at beomgyu, your eyes wide, desperate. and he—cool as ever—slid his hand to your shoulder, his thumb stroking softly, soothing.

“we’ve known each other since we were kids,” he said, smile calm. “childhood friends. and you know how it goes... years pass, and those feelings you thought you buried start to grow again. it was almost inevitable, right, sweetheart?”

he looked at you.

and you smiled. because you had to. because you knew that’s what it took to sell this story.

“she rejected me once, though,” he added with a smirk. “but deep down, she knew she loved me.”

taehyun’s expression twisted. “so... you were in love with him when we met?”

his voice wasn’t loud, but it cut deep.

“no,” you said, quickly. “we had... a falling out in college. we didn’t speak for a long time. when i met you, he wasn’t in my life.”

beomgyu nodded. “we reconnected after you two ended things. and the feelings we’d buried came back stronger.”

he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulled you into his side, his cheek brushing yours. you felt his breath against your skin. his touch was warm. grounding. too intimate.

you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

taehyun looked like he’d swallowed poison.

and you—trapped between past and present, between truth and performance—felt the familiar weight of discomfort slide back into your skin.

kang taehyun had always been your greatest heartbreak.

and sitting beside choi beomgyu, pretending he was your greatest love, was the cruelest irony of all.

the music shifts. the soft thump of the bass, the rhythmic clinking of champagne glasses, the laughter and rustling of silk and tulle—all of it merges into the warm blur of celebration. the lights dim just slightly as couples begin to rise, drawn toward the dance floor like moths to flame.

you’ve just taken another sip of wine, trying to relax after the intense introduction, the invasive questions, and the suffocating presence of your ex seated so dangerously close. but before you can even set your glass down, taehyun rises.

he walks toward you with a practiced calm, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on yours like he’s daring you to look away first. "may i have this dance?" he asks, voice soft enough for only you to hear, but there’s an edge to it—like a test, a provocation.

but before you can speak, beomgyu shifts in his chair beside you. his hand slides over yours, firm, grounding. “no,” he says coolly, voice louder. the table quiets. "how dare you ask someone to dance when she's clearly here with her boyfriend?"

taehyun lets out a breath of laughter, sharp and amused. “what, are you scared? that if she dances with me, she might remember what we had?”

the tension at the table becomes palpable, electric. beomgyu stands now, leveling his gaze at taehyun with a calm so composed it borders on threatening. “you’ve got nerve, i’ll give you that. but no—i’m not scared. i don’t doubt her feelings for me.”

your heart stutters.

taehyun’s smirk falters. “then why don’t we let her decide?” he challenges, turning back to you. “y/n?”

you freeze. the weight of their gazes pins you in place, your spine stiff, mouth dry. you do want to dance with taehyun. Your body remembers the warmth of his hands, the way he used to hold you like you were gravity itself. but then—

beomgyu extends his hand toward you. calm, steady, open.

a choice.

a silent reminder: this is why you're here.

to make him jealous. to make taehyun feel what you felt when he left.

you look up at beomgyu. his eyes flicker with something you can’t name. you take his hand.

“i’m sorry, taehyun,” you say gently, rising from your seat. “but i came to this wedding to enjoy it with my boyfriend.”

the word hits like a drop of ink in water—rippling out, staining the air.

beomgyu stiffens. just for a moment. just enough for you to feel his pulse skip against your fingers.

you don’t look back at taehyun. you let Beomgyu guide you to the dance floor where strings swell into the opening of a love song. the kind that makes people sway closer. the kind that makes you forget you're pretending.

you start to dance, slowly, hands placed properly, bodies at a safe, respectable distance. but then he speaks, voice low and amused by your nervous chuckle.

“looks like the plan’s working,” he murmurs near your ear.

your lips twitch into a half-smile. “maybe too well.”

his fingers trail slightly down the curve of your back. not inappropriate, but… intentional. “you look beautiful tonight,” he adds, tone suddenly more sincere, less teasing.

the compliment catches you off guard. you let out a small, uncertain laugh. “you don’t have to say that.”

“i’m not saying it because i have to.”

you glance up at him. he’s not looking at the other couples. he’s not looking at taehyun. he’s looking at you. and not just your eyes—your mouth, the slope of your neck, the place where your skin meets the lace of your dress. the dress you wore to fit the part. to be his girlfriend. to play the game.

but now you’re not so sure it’s a game.

the music climbs into its chorus. around you, couples draw closer. Some kiss—softly, unselfconsciously. you turn your head, scanning the room for taehyun, and there he is—watching. unmoving. drinking you in like a ghost he didn’t know he still loved.

beomgyu notices.

and then suddenly, his hands are on either side of your face. gentle but sure. you barely have time to inhale before his lips are on yours.

it’s soft. so soft you almost miss it. but then the second beat lands—his mouth molding perfectly to yours, and you gasp through your nose, hands tightening on his arms. your eyes flutter wide, shocked, searching for meaning in the space between reality and performance.

his lips are warm. confident. too confident.

you shouldn’t like this. but you do.

his hands move to your waist as the kiss deepens—just enough. just long enough to make it feel like more than an act.

then he pulls back, just far enough for breath to slip between you, his eyes slightly darker now, but still calm, still playing the role.

“we had to keep up with the others,” he says smoothly, like he didn’t just melt every logical thought out of your brain.

you can’t answer. not yet. you just nod.

because you're still not sure if the kiss was for them, or for you.

since the kiss, you haven’t been able to breathe quite right.

your body moves through the rest of the night, politely laughing at jokes, sipping wine, answering questions with nods and vague hums, but your mind is stuck. not on taehyun. not anymore. his presence at the table has blurred into the background, a faded photograph slowly losing its color.

no—what keeps echoing in your chest like a drum is beomgyu.

how close he’s sitting next to you. the way his thigh presses against yours beneath the tablecloth, warm and constant. how his hand hasn’t left your lower back for more than a minute, always returning like he owns that space now. how his fingers sometimes toy absentmindedly with yours, tracing lines over your knuckles, slow and soft. it should feel comforting, part of the charade. but instead, every brush of skin is a spark, every gentle squeeze is a ripple of heat that settles embarrassingly low in your stomach.

your heart stutters when you glance at him again.

he’s speaking to someone across the table, smiling with that crooked little smirk he wears when he knows he’s charming. and god, is he charming. his laughter is low, the kind that makes your shoulders soften even if you don’t understand the joke. and when he tilts his head to the side, the lights catch the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the way his adam’s apple moves when he swallows between words—it’s so stupid, so dumb, but you can’t look away.

even his eyelashes are pretty. long, thick, casting shadows on his cheekbones. who notices eyelashes? apparently you do, now.

he leans in to murmur something in your ear, and your whole body reacts. you don’t even register what he says. your mind is too busy screaming over the way his breath brushes your neck, the soft weight of his arm resting around your waist like it belongs there, like he’s done this a thousand times.

you feel hot. flushed. overexposed and restless. you try to tell yourself it’s the wine. or the music. or the aftershock of the kiss. but nothing helps.

eventually, you can’t take it anymore. you excuse yourself, murmuring something about needing air, and slip out into the garden. the cool night hits your skin like a blessing. you exhale shakily, hugging your arms around yourself, trying to calm the chaos inside.

you barely get a minute of peace before footsteps follow you.

you turn—and of course, it’s taehyun.

he stands a few feet away, hands in his pockets, looking unsure for the first time tonight. he doesn’t speak right away. instead, he just watches you, like he’s still trying to read you, still trying to understand what changed.

"you look beautiful tonight," he says eventually. his voice is soft now. sincere.

you give him a tight smile. "thanks."

he steps closer. "when i got the invite... the first person i thought of was you."

you look away.

"i hoped maybe..." he trails off, then runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "fuck. i haven’t stopped thinking about you, y/n. after we broke up, i—i kept telling myself it was for the best. but it never felt right. it still doesn’t."

you freeze. the words hit you like cold rain—sharp and disorienting.

“i thought,” he continues, “that maybe tonight, i could try again. i saw you and i just... remembered everything. and maybe i thought it was fate or some shit. that this was our second chance.”

you inhale, shaky.

"taehyun…" you start, but your voice breaks. you pause. gather yourself. then look him in the eye.

"you hurt me."

he flinches.

"i was ready to give up everything. remember? i was going to follow you. i was ready to leave behind my job, my home, my family—just to see you chase your dreams. but i wasn’t part of those dreams, was i?"

he doesn't answer.

"you made that clear when you left. you made me feel like i was holding you back. like i was just... something temporary. something convenient." your voice quivers, but you don’t stop. “so no. you don’t get to come back now just because you regret it. you don’t get to pick me again now that you're lonely.”

he opens his mouth, but you cut him off.

“i’m happy with beomgyu.”

the words come out fast, maybe too fast. you swallow.

"he’s been... good to me. he listens. he’s patient. when i had that terrible week at work, he showed up with soup and made me watch dumb romcoms until i stopped crying. when i forgot my umbrella, he waited for me at the station with his. when i had the flu, he came over with three bags full of medicine and snacks and even folded my laundry."

your breath hitches. you're listing off things that happened. real things. but were they part of the act? or... were they just him? beomgyu, being soft. being kind.

your chest aches.

“he makes me laugh,” you add quietly. “and i feel safe with him. really safe.”

taehyun says nothing. the silence stretches.

and suddenly, you realize—you don’t know if you’re defending a lie anymore. or if somewhere along the way, the lie became a truth you’re not ready to admit.

you blink back the burn in your eyes.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper. “but you’re too late.”

taehyun nods, once. solemn. he doesn’t argue. doesn’t plead.

he just looks at you with a kind of hollow acceptance. then turns and walks back inside.

you stay in the garden a while longer. heart thudding. pulse unsteady. trying to figure out why it hurts so much. why your thoughts keep drifting back to the warmth of beomgyu’s hands. the taste of his kiss.

and why, even now, all you want… is to see him.

you don’t hear the footsteps this time. not over the thudding in your ears. not over the sound of your own pulse, rapid and rising.

but beomgyu appears beside you like he was pulled by a thread—drawn out into the garden by instinct, or maybe something less rational and more dangerous. you blink at him, startled, but it’s too late. you can tell by the way his eyes narrow slightly, by the way his jaw sets, that he’s heard enough.

his gaze flicks to taehyun, sharp, unreadable. "i think you should leave her alone," he says calmly. too calmly. there's a current under his voice. a warning.

taehyun stiffens. "we're just talking—"

"no," beomgyu cuts in. “you’ve done enough of that.”

you feel the shift in the air. it’s not dramatic, not a sudden snap, but something quieter—more dangerous. beomgyu’s eyes don’t leave taehyun’s face as he steps a little closer. “i’ve already told you. several times. she’s my girlfriend. she’s with me now. and there’s no opportunity here for you, hyung.”

taehyun’s mouth parts, like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t get the chance.

“so unless you’re actively trying to get your face broken,” beomgyu says, voice still steady but lower now, “i suggest you back the fuck off.”

the silence that follows is brutal. taehyun’s expression twists—not quite disbelief, not quite amusement, but something caught between. he raises an eyebrow, like he doesn't buy it. like he doesn't believe beomgyu would ever go that far.

but you do.

you know beomgyu. you’ve seen the softness, yes—the warmth, the silliness, the boy who cuddles stray cats and gets excited over mango smoothies. but there’s a different kind of fire under all of that. you’ve seen flashes of it before. you believe him. and you don’t want this to be the moment he burns someone.

you reach out, curling your fingers gently around his wrist. “gyu,” you say quietly. he doesn’t look at you right away. “you’re not doing that. not here. not for him. okay?”

finally, his gaze flicks down to you. something in his eyes softens just a fraction.

you take a breath. “let’s just go home.”

he watches you for a moment longer. then nods.

taehyun doesn’t say anything else. just steps back, jaw clenched, arms crossed over his chest. you can feel his stare on your back as you walk away with beomgyu, back into the house, past the warm golden lights and the laughter that now feels miles away.

the ride home is quiet.

too quiet.

beomgyu drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. his jaw is tight. his lips pressed together in a line. the usual easygoing glow in him has dimmed, replaced by something colder. he hasn’t spoken a word since you got in the car, and the silence is starting to weigh on you, dense and uncomfortable.

you sit beside him, hands fidgeting in your lap. you glance at him from the corner of your eye—he looks beautiful, even like this. even tense and brooding and upset. the streetlights passing over his face only make him seem more carved out of light and shadow, more unreal. your chest aches in that strange way again.

“gyu,” you say, softly.

he doesn’t answer right away. just exhales, long and slow. “did you mean it?” he finally asks, voice low.

you turn toward him. “mean what?”

“everything you told him. about me.” his grip tightens slightly on the wheel. “about how i make you feel. or was that just part of the lie?”

the question shouldn’t catch you off guard—but it does. maybe because you’ve been asking yourself the same thing since you said it. maybe because you don’t know the answer. maybe because you do, and it scares you.

“i don’t know,” you admit. your voice cracks. “i don’t think it was a lie.”

he finally looks at you.

and it’s that look. the one that always makes your breath catch in your throat. the one that’s not teasing or flirty or playful. the one that’s real. too real. it’s him seeing you—really seeing you—and it’s almost too much.

“i meant everything i said,” you add. “i just don’t know what it means yet.”

beomgyu nods slowly. then turns his eyes back to the road.

you ride the rest of the way in silence again, but it’s different now. not cold. not angry. just heavy. like both of you are holding your breaths. like the story you were pretending to tell is suddenly demanding to become the truth.

when he pulls up to your place, he doesn’t kill the engine right away. just sits there.

you don’t move either.

the air between you hums.

“thank you,” you say finally, “for standing up for me.”

his mouth twitches. not quite a smile. “i wasn’t acting.”

you nod. “i know.”

then you open the door and step out, leaving it all suspended in the air between you—the kiss, the lie, the truth, the heat, the tension, the look he gave you that felt like a question you still don’t know how to answer.

but you’re starting to want to.

you close the door behind you, but the silence that follows feels deafening. the apartment suddenly seems too quiet, too still. your heart is still racing from everything that happened — taehyun’s words, beomgyu’s protectiveness, the kiss at the wedding, the car ride home. but beneath all the noise, beneath the confusion, something sharp and clear starts to rise.

a pulse.

his name.

beomgyu.

you press a hand to your chest, breathing deeply, but it doesn’t slow. and then it hits you — not gently, not sweetly, but like a wave knocking you off your feet: it’s him.

you don’t think. you don’t wait.

you spin around, yank the door open and run — barefoot, not even grabbing your coat — down the hall, down the stairs, heart hammering in your chest like it’s trying to chase him before he disappears for good. you reach the stairwell, breath caught in your throat, and then—

he’s there.

at the landing, a few steps below, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon. his eyes find yours immediately, wild and soft all at once, and the relief in them makes your knees go weak.

“i couldn’t leave,” he breathes out, voice cracked and real. “i couldn’t just… leave you like that.”

his hair’s slightly messy, cheeks flushed, and there's this tiny line between his brows like he’s been worrying the whole time. and that’s when it hits you again — he came back. just like you ran after him. you both chose each other.

you don’t say anything. you just move.

arms around his neck, pulling him close, your face burying into the crook of his shoulder. he smells like night air and whatever cologne he wore to the wedding — it’s soft, grounding, familiar. his hands find your waist, then your back, holding you like he’s been waiting to do it forever.

and then you pull back, just enough to look at him.

his eyes flicker to your lips.

and you kiss him.

slow, deep, nothing like the kiss on the dance floor. this isn’t pretending. this is you, trembling fingers on the side of his face, his hand sliding up your back, holding you like you’re precious. his lips move against yours with a softness that borders on reverence, and when he exhales into your mouth, it sounds like he’s been holding his breath for days.

you only part when your lungs ache, foreheads pressed together, your heart loud and unrepentant between you both.

“i was halfway down the street,” he whispers, “and all i could think was, ‘i need to tell her.’”

“tell me what?” you ask, your voice a little breathless, a little cracked.

he leans in again, brushing his nose against yours.

“that i’m not pretending anymore.”

stay next to me push the bad memories aside

you’re in your apartment now. everything feels quieter, but not in that lonely way from before. it’s peaceful. your fingers are laced with beomgyu’s as you both sit on the couch, socks brushing, shoulders touching, hearts still racing from the moment downstairs. there’s a stillness now, but it’s full of possibility. your eyes meet and neither of you look away.

he’s the first to speak.

“so… that kiss,” he says softly, smiling just a little. “i hope you know that wasn’t part of the plan.”

you let out a quiet laugh, eyes flickering down to your intertwined hands. “i figured.”

“i meant it,” he adds, almost in a whisper, as if saying it too loud might shatter the moment. “i meant every second of it.”

your breath hitches, chest tightening in that warm, aching way that only truth brings. you turn your head to him, really look at him — the soft curve of his jaw, the way his lashes brush his cheeks when he blinks, the tenderness in his expression that you hadn’t noticed before but now feels impossible to ignore.

“when did it stop being pretend for you?” you ask, voice quiet, vulnerable.

he hesitates only a moment before answering. “somewhere between your laugh and the way you always fix my tie even when i don’t need you to.”

your heart clenches.

“between that night you texted me good luck before my interview… and the way you talk about the things you love like they’re magic.” he pauses, eyes locked on yours. “it’s always been you. i just didn’t know how badly i wanted it to be real until it already was.”

you don’t even realize you’re crying until he reaches up, brushing a thumb gently under your eye.

“hey,” he says, voice low, “you okay?”

you nod, smiling through the tears. “i just… i think i fell in love with you without meaning to.”

your fingers are tangled in your sleeves, knees pulled close to your chest. neither of you speaks for a while, but the silence is thick with everything left unsaid.

and then, softly—

“you sure about this?”

his voice is low. careful.

you look at him, brows furrowing. “about what?”

“about… us.” he swallows, gaze still down. “after everything.”

your heart tightens. “beomgyu—”

“no, i mean it,” he cuts in, gently but firm. “i’ve been thinking about it since last night. since we kissed. and then again this morning. and again, every second after. and it’s not that i don’t want this. i do. so badly i feel like i can’t breathe sometimes. but—”

he finally looks at you.

and god, it hurts.

“i treated you like shit,” he says, voice cracking. “back then. even if it was joking or flirting or whatever excuse i told myself, i was cruel sometimes. i pushed you, made you feel small just because i didn’t know how to handle what i was feeling. and now you're here—choosing me. like i deserve you.”

you blink, stunned. you hadn’t expected this—this confession bleeding out of him.

he runs a hand through his hair. “you’re good. you’re so good, and i’ve been so fucking scared that one day you’ll remember every time i made you cry, or shut down, or feel like you weren’t enough. because you were always more than enough. i just… i didn’t know how to see it. not then.”

your chest aches. “beomgyu—”

“i don’t want to be that person anymore,” he whispers. “i’ve worked so hard not to be. but i still look at you and think, she deserves someone who didn’t need a second chance to get it right.”

you move slowly, reaching out to cup his face, thumb brushing the corner of his eye where tears threaten.

“you are that someone,” you say softly. “you’re not who you were, beomgyu. you grew. you changed. you loved me, even when you didn’t know it. and now? now you treat me like i’m sacred.”

he leans into your touch, eyes glassy.

“you are sacred,” he breathes.

you smile, trembling. “then stop trying to push me away like i’m not choosing you with my whole heart.”

he exhales shakily. “i’m scared.”

“me too.”

he pulls you in then, arms around your waist, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

“don’t let me fuck this up,” he says against your skin.

“we’ll figure it out together,” you whisper, holding him tighter. “you’re not alone in this.”

he pulls back just enough to kiss your forehead.

“say it again,” he says.

“what?”

“that you choose me.”

you look him in the eyes, no hesitation. “i choose you.”

his lips find yours like a prayer answered. soft. reverent. a little desperate.

and when you part, he presses his forehead to yours, whispering,

“then i’ll spend the rest of forever proving you made the right choice.”

put me in the palm of you all my life time i will be thinking of you

saturday brunch is supposed to be chill.

the kind where chaewon shows up in oversized sunglasses like she’s famous, soobin talks about the latest alien documentary he found, and yeonjun takes a thousand photos of his latte art just to post the worst one with the caption “just vibing.”

but not today.

today, you and beomgyu are sitting side by side in the booth instead of across from each other like usual. your knees are touching. his hand is on your thigh. you're giggling. he whispers something in your ear and you blush.

chaewon is squinting at you both like she’s watching a glitch in the matrix.

soobin is staring at beomgyu like he’s about to conduct a full investigation.

yeonjun drops his phone into his mimosa.

"what the fuck is happening," chaewon says, flat out, fork frozen mid-air.

you smile sweetly, lacing your fingers with beomgyu's. “we’re dating.”

yeonjun gasps like he’s been shot in the chest. soobin literally chokes on his orange juice. chaewon blinks three times, then shakes her head. “no, no, no. you two hate each other. i was there. i’ve seen you call him a crusty medieval squirrel with commitment issues.”

beomgyu grins, smug. “and now i’m her crusty medieval squirrel.”

you nudge him, laughing. “don’t make it worse.”

“this is a prank,” yeonjun says. “you’re filming us for tiktok. where’s the camera. i know it’s here.”

“we’re not pranking you,” you say, cheeks pink. “it just… happened.”

“just happened?” soobin repeats, still dazed. “you two have been fake dating for weeks!”

beomgyu shrugs. “then it got real. sue us.”

chaewon narrows her eyes, studying you. “okay… but are we talking real real or like, ‘we’re trauma bonded and it’s sexy’ real?”

you look at beomgyu.

he looks at you.

you both smile, soft and full of something you didn’t used to know how to name.

“real real,” you say.

yeonjun makes a sound like a dying whale. “i feel gaslit. i’ve spent months mediating your arguments. you once threw a croissant at him in public.”

“he ate it off the floor,” you shoot back.

beomgyu squeezes your hand. “best croissant of my life.”

soobin groans. “i need to lie down. i can’t process this sober.”

“i give it a month,” chaewon announces, sipping her iced coffee with flair. “before you implode.”

you grin. “i’ll take that bet.”

yeonjun finally recovers enough to fish his phone out of his drink. “congrats, i guess. but if you break up, i’m choosing her in the custody battle.”

“damn,” beomgyu says, hand on his heart. “that hurt.”

chaewon smirks. “don’t worry. if she dumps you, i’ll help her write her hot girl summer playlist.”

beomgyu only pulls you closer, arm slung around your shoulders, eyes shining.

“good thing i’m planning on keeping her forever.”

you roll your eyes but can’t fight the smile spreading across your face.

and even through the chaos, the disbelief, and the dramatic reactions… you’ve never felt more sure.

this is real. and it’s only the beginning.

and it's because of you.

[taesanluv3r]

how do you think idol!woonhak and nonidol!reader met? i love ur little series for them🥺

tysm for ur ask!!! i havent had the motivation to write in a while but this ask made me think of the cutest scenario >3< hope u like it!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

the way we met.

trainee/soon to be idol!woonhak x non-idol!reader

no warnings, cutesy fluffy stuff! lowercase intended. pls excuse any spelling or grammatical mistakes.

wc: 1,579

starts under the cut!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

ding~

the bell above the cafe door rings, alerting the single employee working there and the two customers sitting inside that a fourth person had just walked in.

the barista, who stood behind the counter, lifts her head up to greet the boy who had entered. "hi, welcome to bread and butter! what can i help you with today?" she asks, her voice the perfect balance of confidence and charm. "hi! ummm..." he responds, then pauses to read the menu placed above both their heads. she uses this time to examine the guy in front of her.

this was the first time she'd ever seen him. strange. working part-time in that little coffee shop for the past two years, the girl thought she had practically met everyone who lived in the area - he must be from somewhere else. come to think of it, he did look a bit different from everyone else. his hair was evidently damaged - maybe he had bleached it before - and he wore a mask that covered half his face - strange, considering the virus had ended over a year ago at this point! he wore an adidas tracksuit, the top and pants a matching black set, and he looked like he had just worked up a sweat - ah! he probably came from that dance studio nearby...that makes sense. most of the kids her age that hung out around this otherwise old-people area all came from that dance studio...i mean, there's really nothing else around here to do anyways. if it weren't for the fact that she had to care for her lonely grandmother, she wouldn't choose to live here either.

"um...excuse me?"

the male voice shook her out of her head. "huh?" she responds, eyebrows furrowed. "yeah, um- i'm ready to order now...sorry, you were kind of zoning out" his sentence ended with a little giggle, still muffled from the contact of his lips to his mask. for some reason though his smile was crystal clear, maybe cause his eyes squinted into little crescent shapes as he spoke - or maybe, it was the fact that he had such a happy-sounding voice in general.

"oh! sorry...force of habit...what was it that you wanted to order? sorry" she rambled, her cheeks tinted red from embarrassment. "i'll have one iced americano and an almond croissant, please" she nods, beginning to input his order into the screen in front of her. "and would that be dine in or take out?" there was a moment of silence as the boy thought shortly about his answer. "i'll eat here, please" they share another silent nod. "alright, here's your total, just tap your card or phone when you're ready" the boy pulls his phone out of his pocket, tapping the backside of it against the 'tap to pay' machine.

"alright, take a seat wherever, i'll bring your food out in a second!" - "alright, thanks!"

the boy settles down in the table closest to the barista bar. he removes his mask as he takes in his surroundings. he had never been to this place before, despite practicing at the nearby dance studio for a while now. one of his friends recommended it to him, said the coffee was delicious and the barista working there was just as sweet as the pastries. he agreed with that, eyes wandering over to the girl who expertly began to press and drip his iced americano into a glass - she must've been working here long, everything she did in the bar looked so natural. her hair was tied up in a little bun, and it bounced along with her as she walked over to the tray of croissants. the brown apron she wore fit snugly around her waist and not after long the boy catches himself staring - only a second after she had caught him too.

"alright...here's your iced americano, and your almond croissant!" the barista girl - who doubled as the waitress today - smiled, placing the coffee and pastry onto the table. "wow~ thank you...er- huh..." the boy's puzzled expression confuses her. "what's wrong?" she asks, wondering if it were something she did or had said. "oh! sorry, i was just searching for your name but you don't have a name tag. and i've just- i've never met a barista with no name tag" he laughs awkwardly, this time his smile is fully visible. the girl scans his whole face for the first time, "...cute"

"what?"

her eyes went wide. "shoot! did i say that out loud?" she mentally slapped herself in the face. the boy laughs, amused at her sudden confession. "sorry...what i meant was that...um..." she didn't know what to say, so he spoke for her. "that you think i'm cute?" he asked, a snaggle-toothed smile still holding onto his lips. the girl sighed, pressing the serving tray against her chest in defeat. "yeah...i guess you are pretty cute- what are you, a trainee?" she giggles, shaking her head as if her words were so totally far from the truth.

"and what if i am?" he asks, lifting a single eyebrow up in question. "then...then i guess it'd make sense. i've never seen you before, but i've met some kids from the studio nearby- they say a few idol trainees practice there and i mean you're fit, handsome, and you kinda have that star quality vibe so...i guess...yeah"

the compliments laced in her speech-like ramble made the boy feel all warm and fuzzy inside. "well you're right, i am a trainee" the girl smiles, feeling prideful from her correct assumption. "cool! well, um...enjoy your croissant and...good luck! you know, with the training and stuff...hope you debut soon!" he shot her one last toothy grin, before she returned to her counter. "thanks"

for the next hour or so, the boy remained seated in the little coffee shop. he had finished up his croissant, and was about to finish the rest of his coffee too. the whole time he was sitting there, he couldn't help but watch the barista girl at work. he watched the way she smiled warmly as she greeted customers, the way loose ends of her hair would fall against her cheeks as she prepared cups of coffee, and the way she would occasionally steal glances at him, making them both shy as they looked the other way.

the guy only decides it's time to leave when a banner appears brightly on his phone, alerting him of his next practice hour. as he goes to swipe the notification away, another one comes in. a text from his friend, the same friend that had recommended this cafe to him before.

sanghyukie hyung: yo can u get me an iced choco to go plz. and dongmin wants an iced americano. thx 😁

he sighs, rolling his eyes as he replies with a single letter.

k 🙄

the boy gets up, making his way back to the counter. "hey, what's up?" the girl asks, a smile on her face. "hey, can i get an iced choco and an iced americano to go, please? i have to head to practice but my friends asked me to get them drinks while i'm here" she nods, finding the defeated expression on his face quite cute.

"okay, just tap when you're ready!" the barista girl says, pointing to the payment machine. "yup" the trainee boy replies, tapping his phone against it. "oh! and i'm gonna need a name for those drinks" she says, grabbing a sharpie from the pen holder to her right.

"oh, right! it's woonhak." there's this little glint in her eyes when he speaks, like she was a lot happier to learn his name than she should be. "okay then, your drinks will be ready soon!" - "yup, thank you"

just about 7 minutes later, the sound of his own name being called out nearly made the boy jump out of his skin. "iced choco and iced americano for woonhak!" he got up from the chair in the waiting area, and walked right up to the pick-up counter. "here's your drinks to go, enjoy- or, tell your friends to enjoy" she giggles, and he smiles (again. they're a very smiley pair). "thank you...um..." he trails off, eyebrows furrowing again. "oh! wait!" she exclaimed, catching him off guard as she disappears below the counter. she jumps back out a seconds later, "tada~" she cheers, pointing at the spot on her apron right next to her chest. the boy laughs, moving closer to finally learn the name on her tag.

"ah...thank you, yn"

there was something about the way he said it that made her stomach do flips. "you...you're welcome" they stared at each other for a bit, their gazes lingering - as if the rest of the little coffee shop was moving in slow motion. "um- well, uh...i have to go back to practice now...thank you, again" woonhak laughs softly, finding it silly how shy he was being around her. "right! um...fighting! come again soon" he nods, "i definitely will"

"it was nice to meet you, woonhak" the barista girl says finally, possibly the warmest smile she had ever smiled on her face. the trainee boy reciprocated, "right back at you, yn" waving softly as he began to leave.

little did the two smiley idiots know that this would be the start of a very sweet romance.

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

THANK U AGAIN FOR THE ASK!!! haven't written in what feels like AGES so this was such a good way to get back <3 i think this little scenario suits hakie sm TT speaking of hakie HAVE U GUYS SEEEEN THE CONCEPT PICSSS they all look so good, cant wait for this cb!!!! thx again anon for giving me writing material :3 luv u! love, kona.

[lmvari]

⟳ 22. STALLED

When you finally step out of the building, the sky dimming into the soft lavender of early evening. The campus is quieter now, with scattered students loitering by the gates or heading toward the nearby street stalls. Your footsteps feel heavy as usual as you consider going straight home.

It’s been almost a week now, and still, you show no signs of feeling any better. It frustrates you. How everyone else seems fine and happy, while you’re still stuck.

A familiar voice snaps you out of your daze.

“[Name]!”

You turn to see Lumi waving at you from across the walkway, Ajax and Kaz beside her, all three of them standing by the parking area.

“Come eat with us,” she offers. “You look like you’re about to go home and crash out.”

“Shut up,” you say when you reach them, but Lumi just raises an eyebrow. “Where are Ven and Hu?”

“They’re all busy, it’s just us,” Lumi sighs.

You fix your gaze at the unfamiliar company. Ajax tagging along is normal. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve hung out with Lumi, only for her to bring Ajax along and turn you into the third wheel. But being with Kaz is a first. You know him. You’ve seen him around campus, even exchanged waves now and then, but you’ve never actually hung out with him like this before.

Kaz seems to notice your attention on him and gives a small smile. “I heard what happened. Hope you don’t mind me joining in. Come join us, it’ll be fun.”

You want to argue, but you don’t. Because maybe they’re right. Maybe putting yourself out there is a good way to start moving on.

The four of you end up at a small food place just outside campus, one of those spots students always flock to after long days. You squeeze into a booth, the table already cluttered with shared plates and paper cups filled with soda. Ajax and Lumi sit beside each other while you and Kaz sit on the opposite side.

Lumi pokes you with a fry across the table. “See? Better than sulking in your room.”

You roll your eyes. “I wasn’t planning to.”

Lumi laughs. “It’s alright to be sad about it, you know. Just not to the point that it messes with your everyday life. That’s why we’re here to help you.”

Ajax chuckles, leaning back in his seat. “You’ve gone quiet lately. It’s good to see you out.”

Kaz glances your way. “So you and Kuni are really done?”

You freeze for a second, then sigh.

Of course he’d be brought up.

“We were never anything more than friends, in the first place,” you confirm.

“Heard that,” Ajax says with a cough.

You roll your eyes and look at Lumi in deadpan. “I’m starting to hate your boyfriend.”

She just shakes her head with a laugh.

“You two had something. I don’t know why neither of you admit it.” Ajax shrugs. “Did you get to talk about it properly?”

Define properly.

Does telling him to end things outside a convenience store late at night, in the pouring rain, count?

“I guess,” you answer vaguely, stirring your drink. “I told him we should stop. He just agreed. Which was the most painful part.”

“Why?” Kaz asks, listening intently.

You set down your drink. “We haven’t been sexually active lately prior to that. I thought I meant more to him. He didn’t even try to fight. Not even for our friendship.”

“That might be for the best,” Lumi mutters.

You raise your brow at her.

She continues, “Could you handle being ‘just friends’ while he gets back with his ex?”

You stay quiet, unsure how to answer that.

Can you?

Handle seeing him with her? Handle watching him treat her the way you thought he’d treat you? Handle knowing the delusions you had in your head are real with her?

Handle imagining how he’d touch her the same way he touched you?

And the worst part is the thought that you probably weren’t even the first to be handled like that.

She was.

Nothing was ever yours to begin with. It was your fault for being too attached when you knew it was only ever physical with him.

The answer is no. You can’t.

Do you really have the right to be upset?

As if reading your thoughts, Kaz’s voice is calm when he speaks. “You’re allowed to be mad at him, you know.” Ajax quietly agrees with a nod.

You glance beside you in surprise. “Aren’t you two his friends?”

“Yeah,” Ajax says with a shrug, “but not always.”

Kaz doesn’t say anything for a moment, then rests his elbow on the table. “We had an argument, actually.”

You blink. “You and Kuni?”

He nods, like it’s not a big deal. “A small one.”

You hesitate. “Over what?”

Kaz gives a faint shrug. “Just didn’t agree with some stuff he was doing. That’s all.”

It’s not much, but something flickers in your chest. You don’t push. Not yet.

Then Ajax adds, almost absently, “I’m surprised he got back with Mona again that fast.”

Lumi furrows his brows. “So they’re really back together?”

Ajax pauses then shrugs. “Dunno, they might as well be.”

You shake your head slowly, trying to keep your face blank.

Lumi watches you carefully. You press your lips together. Your mood dims slightly after that.

The conversation shifts to other things while the group eats their dinner.

Eventually, Lumi checks her phone and winces. “Shit. Ajax and I have to go. Something urgent came up.”

She stands up, grabbing her bag, and pulls Ajax with her. She leans down to put a hand on your shoulder. “You gonna be okay?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Ajax ruffles your hair on the way out. “It’ll get better, alright?”

You watch them leave, the restaurant door swinging shut behind them.

You expect Kaz to get up too, to follow after them and leave you alone but he doesn’t. Instead, he stays seated, like he’s in no rush to go anywhere.

“You need a ride?”

You glance at him. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he says casually. “I’m offering.”

The car is quiet at first, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional splash of water as Kaz drives through the slick streets.

You sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed loosely, staring out the window. Neither of you talk for a while. It’s not awkward, just… quiet.

Comfortable, almost.

Kaz finally breaks the silence. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t look at you, but his voice stays steady. “You don’t have to say you’re okay if you’re not.”

You smile faintly at that, then shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just tired.”

Kaz simply nods and doesn’t speak, eyes focused on the road. After a long while, “You really love him, don’t you? Kuni.”

You look at him, slightly taken aback.

Love? Did your feelings really progress at that stage?

“I don’t. It was just a fleeting thing,” you deny.

“I doubt that,” he says. “I can see how much it weighs on you. A person who isn’t in love won’t grieve like you do.”

You don’t respond.

Kaz sighs through his nose. “I’m not gonna pretend I know everything that happened. But I do know something more was developing between you two, whether you admit it or not. It was obvious.”

“He had chances. But he didn’t take them,” he continues. “He’s my friend, but that doesn’t mean I’ll defend him when he does something stupid.“

Stupid?

“What exactly did you guys argue about?”

Kaz presses his lips and shakes his head. “It’s about something you shouldn’t be hearing from me.”

Huh.

“Okay,” you simply accept. You shift in your seat, watching the blur of headlights outside.

After a few beats of silence, you speak. “It’s not that simple to just move on. Even if he was just a fling.”

He was never just a fling.

“I know it’s not,” he agrees. “But you shouldn’t keep waiting for someone who can’t even promise you anything.”

“I’m not waiting for him. I already ended it.”

Kaz hums and shows a small amused smile “Whatever you say.”

“You don’t believe me?” You scoff.

“I think there’s still a big part of you that hopes he comes back and chooses you instead. That’s why you’re progressing as slow as you’re going now.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Didn’t know you were some kind of therapist.”

Kaz briefly looks at you, softly chuckling, then turns his attention back on the road. “Well, I’m right, aren’t I?”

You don’t answer right away. Your weak smile falters into a thin line.

Then, under your breath, you admit, “It’s hard to let go of someone when part of you still hopes they’ll stay.”

Kaz’s voice softens. “I know. But you can’t put your healing on pause while he figures his shit out.”

You blink hard, swallowing down the sting in your throat.

He adds, “You deserve someone who doesn’t make you feel like you have to wait to be chosen.”

Silence settles again, heavier this time.

He pulls up in front of your house a few minutes later.

Kaz puts the car in park and turns to you with a reassuring smile. “You’ll be okay.”

You nod slowly, fingers resting on the handle.

“Thanks for the ride,” you murmur.

He gives you a small smile. “Anytime.”

You were about to open the door but you hear him speak out again. “You have my number, right?”

“I do. Why?” You saved it long ago from Lumi but never used it.

“Message me? You can talk to me if you need someone.”

“I will.” You smile at him, slightly feeling at ease. “Thank you, Kaz.”

You open the door and step out, the cool air brushing against your skin. Kaz waits until you’re safely at the door before driving off.

As the door clicks shut and his headlights vanish around the corner, you realize you never knew Kaz could be this steady.

For the first time in days, some of the weight finally lifts off your chest.

⟳ BLURRED LINES — PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

You say you’re just friends. You say it every time you leave a party together, every time you wake up tangled in sheets, every time you swear it’s the last time. But habits form, lines blur, and pretending gets harder when jealousy starts to sting.

NOTE some of ya’ll are hating on mc for being counterproductive with moving on but i feel like u guys don’t get it.. even in a fwb setup, sex is inherently intimate and can build emotional bonds. on top of that, kuni has never clearly closed the door on “something more,” sending mc mixed signals, which naturally drags out her healing. mc still doesn’t have closure. she’s piecing together why he let mona back in, why he didn’t fight for her, without clear answers. it’s normal for her to linger in that in-between space. + it hasn’t been a month guys chill out 😭 it took me over one month to completely get over my one week talking stage that i was deeply attached to. anw this chapter is kind of poorly made since i’m still fighting my writer’s block sorry

TAGLIST @joiurz @sketcheeee @mywillt0live @kyouzki @ylapsha45 @eternallykira-143 @bananasquash @kunikissr @swivi @ariesloves @b-bbytears @kokoscutie @vi0let-writes @tomsishere @franaby @scaraenthusiast1 @iloveescara @usagiarchive @ilovecats-26 @quiechee @snetr @axquella @tatsuomii @lalalaloveallmydays @liyahbug @feiherp @jinjjjia @automaticpatroltragedy @mysterypotatoink @zuhahearts @adres-tia @ssetsuka @strwbrrybbpop @sesamemin @blvdmrcnry @aspinny @jiminscarmex @sammybeefangirls @lxkeeeeee @yu-yumii @linasxoxo @quiet-place-for-thoughts @randomhumans-blog @aaudreys @lesbi-snail @jayzioxx @meowpmzai @sixftndr

if your name is in bold, that means i can’t tag you

[moonlight-prose]

i feel like I’ve been ignoring my boy so what do you think about hello/goodbye hugs that linger + joaquín torres?

who knows why?

a/n: this request has sat in my drafts for so long i can't remember when you sent it. but the yearning i had for torres in 2021/2022 has come back tenfold. and of course it had to be another friends to lovers arc. i always feel as if he's the perfect character for something this soft. plus you and i both know he's just that one friend you end up falling for after years of denying it. (i listened to DtMF to capture all those emotions needed.)

summary: the orders came in quicker than you wanted to accept. a place far enough to drag you from the friends made and family found. but when the time to say goodbye arises feelings begin to bleed through.

word count: 1.8k+

pairing: joaquin torres x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, goodbyes that are painful, joaquin is hopelessly in love, friends to lovers, teasing as best friends do, angst (because it's who i am), goodbyes.

The years were cruel to a soul that ached. Time that passed with fluid ease around someone stagnant—trapped against their will. Emotions tangled in a web that clung to their heart became a companion you were familiar with, a friend that complied to its own decisions. Wild. Untamed. Unpredictable in the face of everyone…especially him.

“I could go with you.” He fixed himself to the door frame, arms crossed and body stiff, as noise echoed behind him.

They were taking shots in the kitchen. Pre-gaming the final night out before they were handed mission orders. You could practically taste the cheap vodka from your perch on the bed—the pungent scent of lime chasers wafting through the open door. The night was meant to be filled with ease. Bar hopping, a club on the off chance it wasn’t spilling out with people, and early morning pancakes to curb the hangover.

All before the inevitable goodbyes.

The bitten back tears and watery smiles. The raspy promises of next times that would turn into almosts and unsure possibilities. You loathed that which couldn’t be stopped. A half filled life with friends who were found further away each year you tried to find them.

“You can’t go with me,” you sighed, wiping at the shitty eyeliner that never seemed to stick. “Wherever they put me is where I have to be. No friends allowed.”

A curl of his lips ensnared you—pulling at the fragments and tendrils of a heart that couldn’t take much more. “I could call Sam. Get him to do me a favor.”

“Nice,” you drawled. “Calling Captain America just to bug me wherever I wind up.”

“You can’t say you don’t enjoy me bugging you muñeca.”

“Never said I don’t.”

“You implied it.”

“Estas loco.”

“I’m not-”

A shrill overbearing voice you would know anywhere simply by the way Joaquin tensed as she stumbled down the hall—a half empty can of something you couldn’t read clutched in her sticky hand. “You’re gonna save me a dance tonight Torres.”

You dug your teeth into the side of your cheek, busying yourself with a mascara wand. Somehow her flirting always resembled a threat, but you speculated it was the twisting of your pulsating heart that told it differently. Joaquin was always one to appear polite. Saying yes in the face of those who would overlook how his brown eyes turned sharp. Piercing to the gut of whoever pushed him too far.

Hope flourished like a maddening inkling—another piece added to a forever half finished picture—when he shuffled away from her. You were insane to cling to it. Something so small even as he appeased her drunken pleas for more than just awkward conversations.

“Yeah…” You dug a nail into the palm of your hand, swallowing the ache that formed like a stone at the bottom of your empty stomach. “We could probably do that.”

The pleading gaze he threw your way went overlooked for the eyeliner that still had to be applied. A mundane task to distract from the way he was dragged out of the room, a raucous cheer of friends welcoming him back into the fray. He wasn’t yours to keep from the fun. Certainly not someone you could place a claim over after years of friendship—the hope of something more diminishing with every passing year.

You couldn’t delude yourself into believing things would change. The orders were pinned on your board to be taken in the morning, a harsh slap of reality placed upon the life you might never have. But you could accept that. Getting your first post wasn’t meant to be tangled with a man, especially your best friend.

So you’d grin and bear it. A familiar action you were used to submerging yourself into.

“Vamos!” Your friend shouted, giving you just enough time to grab your phone before they shuffled out into the front yard.

Orange lights blinded you the second you crossed the club’s threshold—flashing with the rhythm of the music. Everyone dispersed before you could ask what the plan was, leaving you to stumble after them. Three vanished into the throng of people on the dance floor, loud music blaring a reggaeton song you recognized from years ago. The bar was crowded, people packed into such a small space—the alcohol flowing with ease given the summer heat.

“Lost?”

You jumped, Joaquin’s hands steadying you in the heels that stuck to a tequila layered floor. “I think we’ve been ditched.”

“More fun this way,” he shouted over the music. “Means we don’t have to babysit.”

“I’d say we can get drunk, but…”

He nodded, palms slipping into yours. “I dance better sober.”

“I doubt that!” you laughed.

“Oh that’s how it’s gonna be? Mírame.” Yanking you close enough to avoid getting stepped on, he twirled you into a familiar two step. Muscle memory snapping to attention the closer he got—his touch sliding to grab at the fabric around your hips.

Dancing with Joaquin felt like home. A familiar realm of comfort that finally gave you the chance to fall into his touch—your body melting into the fast beat of the song. There wasn’t much room to move, people crowded in until they spilled out the front doors, but you ignored it for the favor of having him close. The heady scent of his cologne and sweat coated your senses, blinding you to the cheap tequila you could practically taste off everyone else.

Someone rammed into your back, elbow knocking the wind out of your lungs. “Fresh air?”

His hand clasped over yours. “Way ahead of you.”

Nearly getting hit in the head by two men spinning their girls had Joaquin dragging you quick enough to trip you. His body acting as the barrier for such a large crowd—stepping into the role of protector until you were no longer around to need him.

How could you explain that to lose him would rip the ground beneath you usually steady feet? That to leave him was destroying the very gravity that held you firm on the ground.

“I won’t miss this place,” you muttered, sucking in a lungful of crisp air until the burn spread across your chest. “Too many fucking people.”

He grinned, thumb catching the thrumming vein along your wrist. “It’s not so bad.”

“Well…no. It’s never bad with you.”

“That right?” Lips pulled into a smirk you’d seen a thousand times over, mischief screaming in eyes that bored into yours.

“Cochino! I wasn’t thinking that way.” Yet even as you said the words you laughed. For the simple reason that he was your favorite person, your small slice of joy on days that offered that all too familiar shadow of darkness.

He laughed and your heart lit up on the inside, the agony of leaving, the grief of losing him, dissipating while you stood in his shine. Such a small thing to miss but even as you realized it you knew that not a day would go by where you wouldn’t miss everything about him. Small pieces of your life scattered into memories you wished you could pick up.

What you wouldn’t give to have taken more photos.

To solidify his image in ink and tie it to your heart.

“I’m gonna miss this,” he admitted, the cool breeze washing over you. “Gonna miss you.”

“Yeah…”

Tonight you wouldn’t tell him. Not when the hours were still young and the orders that hung like a cloud over your head were nonexistent until morning. So you chose the easy route—push for more time, make whatever this was exist in the present for as long as you could live in it. For your sanity…and his.

“Coffee?”

He smiled, squeezing your hand. “Absolutely.”

“You got everything?”

Dropping the bag, you watched people in a similar uniform shuffle onto an already tightly packed plane. “I think so.”

“You sure? Can’t forget the snacks or headphones for the pendejos who snore or-”

“Joaquin.”

“And make sure you snag a good seat. Don’t sit close to the bathroom. Trust me-”

“Joaquin,” you snapped. “You’re acting like your mother.”

His hands covered your face before you could grab them, pushing your head back with a snort. “And? She knew her shit.”

That much you knew to be true. Nights spent crowded around a small kitchen table, homework scattered beneath heavy plates weighted down with arroz con carne, salsa smeared on the corners of what was once perfectly lined notebook pages. Days splayed out in his backyard, the sun scorching your skin as he played football with his cousins. Music blasting from shitty speakers in his room, a fan going high enough to kill the lights in the whole house.

Life that you’d give anything to go back to. Moments you had seared on your skin, burned behind closed eyelids. You could taste the salt from esquites bought down the street—a frozen Gatorade stuffed in the back of his fridge for days his practice with soccer ran long.

He’d been the love of your life since you met him.

If only the two of you had figured it out sooner.

“I-” You sucked in a breath, hands curling into fists. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

Gathering you in a hug tight enough to pop the ache in your spine, he buried his face into the rough fabric on your shoulder. You did the same with his comfortable denim jacket—a piece of clothing you should have stolen long ago.

“We’ll see each other alright?”

You bit back the thick swell of tears. “Hopefully soon.”

“You forget,” he laughed. “I’ve got the favor of Cap on my side.”

“Don’t piss off Sam Wilson with visitation days okay?” you sighed, digging a hand into the soft curls at the base of his neck. “Just…go be a hero. I’ll make sure to tell everyone I know Falcon is my best friend.”

His smile pressed to your neck, hands tight around your waist. “Bueno. Someone has to know you’re cool.”

“Fuck off,” you sobbed.

Pulling away felt impossible. A feat you couldn’t have pulled off even if you held all the strength in the world. But his arms were loosening and his face was close to yours and suddenly you understood why people died for the meager touch of fleeting love. It would be so easy to kiss him, quicker than breathing. And yet…you watched as something flickered in his eyes.

Confirmation that your time would come; it just wasn’t right now.

“Good luck,” he murmured, swiping at the tears he could catch. “Until next time?”

You nodded, hand curling around his wrist. “Until next time.”

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate (16) - We are Alphas

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 16 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 6,822

Work count for Story: 130,009

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs, and the other loves everyone. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work because I almost died in August of 2024.

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This chapter does have pack dynamics, Alphas fronting, and discussions of the past. There are cuddles in this one, figured it was needed after the last chapter. FYI, I swear the Bangtan boys wrote this chapter, not me!

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

“Sit down, Taehyung-ah,” orders Namjoon just as the tiger hybrid is about to get up and follow you to your den. “You already have given her enough to deal with. Tailing after her could very well push her in a direction, and with how things are, we don’t know if it will be a good one or not.”

With a frustrated sigh and a pout, Taehyung says, “I wasn’t gonna do anything.” He then turns around and leans against the couch instead—his thoughts, along with everyone else's, spiral in several different directions. The internal loud silence that fills the living room reveals how flustered and perplexed the seven hybrids are. 

“Can someone please convince me that our ladymate didn’t just tell us, in a roundabout way, that she wanted to stay with Hyung and me this morning?” Jimin asks in a soft but desperate voice. His fluffy, striped tail switches between an excited swishing to a nervous flicking motion while he waits for someone to agree with him out loud. 

Unfortunately, his request is met with an even louder silence. Their thoughts, having agreed with Jimin’s, have played out more than what would be considered an unhealthy amount of possible outcomes from that particular situation. While this seems to be a step in the right-ish direction, the pack is still in what they consider unstable and uncharted territory. 

Well, to be honest, this whole situation was uncharted territory for the seven of them because their new mate was A—a female and B—a human. So much information has been gathered in such a short time that has to be processed and addressed, but how? When?

Those who went to the pack meeting with your Family pack haven’t had the chance to share what they learned with the rest of the bonded mates, which allows them to have a better understanding and even more desire to soothe, heal, and support you. However, it was agreed that they would wait until they could guarantee privacy from staff. 

As the silence continues in the living room with their minds occupied, their ears intently focus on you. They can’t hear anything from your den, which indicates that you, like them, are a bit off-center about this meeting, or so they hope. 

After what seems like an eternity, the soft padding of your footfalls finally indicates that you have reached some point in your thoughts that allows you to move and not be frozen. It allows a release of the tension surrounding the bonded mates. As the energy becomes less heightened, Jungkook crawls into Yoongi’s lap with a hand stroking Taehyung’s hair, seeking comfort. The soft exhales from some of them break the silence, along with the rustling of clothes as they relax into their seats. 

“I think,” hesitantly starts Hoseok. “I think we need to do a few things with her. We can’t just keep thinking that she is fully educated on hybrid customs and behaviors like our past playmates because she isn’t. She isn’t educated properly, nor is she a playmate.”

“I also think she needs to learn to love herself more,” frowns Hoseok, his eyes drilling holes into the carpet.

“You noticed that, too? I think her family did an excellent job of crushing any kind of self-awareness or self-love for herself,” Yoongi says with a hint of snarl in his voice. “As her Alphas and her mates, it’s our job to ensure that she not only understands how exquisite she is to us but she also needs to see it with her own eyes.”

Nodding, Hoseok adds, “I think I can help that. I mean with my self-image issues from before, I have a personal perspective on what it’s like to experience that kind of pressure, more or less. Also, maybe in time, I can use some of my shibari skills to help with not only her body image issues but her trust as well.”

A collective hum comes from the pack. It’s been several years since Hoseok fought his demons when it came to his looks. For Seokjin and Namjoon, when those pictures of their mate bound in a mask find their way back into circulation because Army does those ‘glow up’ or 'where they started’ comparison shots on TikTok or Instagram, the feeling of failing to support their mate as the leader and the oldest surfaces.

As Jimin sits more comfortably in Seokjin’s lap, he looks at his mates confidently before offering assistance, saying, “I could teach her about nesting, specifically what it means at the hybrid level with all the differences between a den nest and a pack nest, along with the boundaries and such?”

“That is a good idea, Jimin-ah, but you must be delicate about it because of her past,” warns Hoseok. “You can’t just burst in and take over. I don’t want us to treat her like a kit, but at the same time…”

“Her ideas and thought processes are similar to how you were when you first joined us because you were both raised with misinformation or misguidance on acceptable behaviors,” says Yoongi. “I am not sure why her mother’s side of the family would have even associated her ‘blanket forts’ with a nest, though. I guess it was just too close of a behavior.”

Looking at Jimin, Yoongi continues, “I think she can learn a lot from you and Kook-ah. However, I think that, based on how you were raised, you might connect with her better.”

Unlike Jungkook, Jimin doesn’t necessarily like to discuss his past because it is something that he would very much like to forget. It took him almost a year to share details with his bonded mates. Now, lost in his thoughts, Jimin wonders if he should be upfront and detailed about it with you or just allude to what happened.

Jungkook whines at the thought of being unable to connect with you on a deeper level, prompting Taehyung to push against the bunny hybrid’s hand in his hair, saying, “Don’t worry, Kookie. You already have a connection with Y/n that is stronger than the rest of us. I think you might even have a better connection than Yoongi-hyung does.”

Tilting his head up from Yoongi’s lap, Jungkook peers over the arm of the couch at Jimin and snarkily says, “Speaking of my level of connection with Y/n, apparently it isn’t strong enough to garner an invitation into her nest.”

All eyes look to Jimin with hints of jealousy and curiosity, but mostly envy. Putting on a sly smirk and leaning into the eldest’s hold, the memory of your body tangled with his is still fresh in his mind, causing his scent to spike with sweetness. Jimin curves his body against Jin in a way that he knows will get his mates going, but the soft nip from Seokjin on his shoulder makes Jimin roll his eyes and shake his head, saying, “She had a nightmare about her past and the nest.”

“I had decided to sit on guard outside her door because I wanted to be the first mate she saw when she woke up due to what happened when I stepped on Taehyungie’s tail and ruined your night, Namjoon-hyung,” the red panda explains. “I knew something was… wrong when she had gone to sleep on the window bench, not the nest I made for her.”

Namjoon opens his mouth to reassure the younger, but the slight shake of Seokjin’s head stops him, allowing Jimin to continue, “It hadn’t been long before I heard her softly crying and making pained noises as if she were being attacked. When she didn’t respond to me calling her by name, I entered her den and saw…”

Jimin pauses with a gulp. “I saw her in the tiny ball crying, clutching her stomach and whining. I literally had to shake her awake. She took a moment to realize where she was and who I was, but the next thing I knew, she was in my lap,” recalls Jimin. “She didn’t want to talk about it then but wanted the pack meeting to discuss everything with everyone.”

“While this is all and good to know, it doesn’t explain how you ended up sleeping with her,” flatly says Taehyung, who gets a smack to the back of the head by Yoongi. To which he whines, “well, it doesn’t.”

Giggling at the two, Jimin nods, replying, “You're right. When I asked her why she didn’t sleep in the nest when she returned, she answered that it was too perfect to sleep in. So, I carried, not without her complaining of her weight, over to her nest and put her inside.”

“She seemed still tense and expressed how we are so close that she doesn’t want to ruin anything. I explained that she wouldn't ruin anything because she wasn’t a typical playmate but she still didn’t relax in the nest. It worried me, so I… ah… well, I tested the bond,” Jimin says, trailing off. 

Shifting to look at Jimin better, Seokjin questions, “Jimin-ah, what did you do?”

“Please tell me you didn’t push yourself on her?” Hoseok asks darkly.

“No! I…” Jimin scoffs. “I asked her if I could join her in the nest. I even told her she could say no, but she didn’t. She relaxed almost immediately, even while keeping a respectful distance aside from holding her hand.”

“You didn’t look so respectfully distant when I found you together this morning,” pointed out the eldest.

“I will get to that,” Jimin rushes out with blush-tinted cheeks. “I shared a bit about our past with playmates. I figured it would help her not to feel so vulnerable with me so close, and it worked because when I went to leave, she asked me to stay. After a rather cute and telling discussion of sleeping arrangements, she had me sleep between her and the door for protection, under the blanket for warmth, and facing each other, but she didn’t give a reason.”

Tilting his head, Jimin continues, “I think it was mostly because she doesn’t want to over step but after today that may change. Anyway, she warned she moves alot in her sleep and I am pretty sure that is how we ended up so entangled.”

“She smelled interested when I joked about having to tie her down if she became a human tornado, Hobi-hyung,” Jimin says, wiggling his eyebrows.

With that, Hoseok grabs Jimin’s hand to head up to his den to discuss how to enact their part of the plan and check to see if Hoseok even brought his ropes with him on this trip—only pausing long enough to look to Namjoon for permission to leave the pack meeting. 

Taking in the more relaxed scents of his mates, aside from a spike of nerves and arousal from various makes, Namjoon thinks there isn’t much more that can be done right now. Standing, the Prime Alpha says, “Since Y/n left, I believe the pack meeting can conclude. I encourage everyone to reflect on what was discussed, and if you have a suggestion on how to help or have concerns about anything, you can always reach out to me.”

Seokjin heads to the kitchen to keep busy. Baking is one of the ways he can zone out to process things while still feeling like he hasn’t checked out of being a good mate. Some fresh cookies, non-chocolate, sound like a good idea and can be made on autopilot, or maybe making something for lunch would be good.  Opening the fridge, the eldest Alpha decides to make lunch and cookies while he deals with everything from finding Jimin in your bed to the topics of both meetings. 

Yoongi pulls Jungkook into his lap more, and the two cuddle into a ball. The attentive jaguar hybrid praises the youngest Alpha for being brave and sharing his past with their new mate. Jungkook blushes and buries his face into Yoongi’s neck with his little fluff of a cotton tail wiggling happily. It doesn’t take long for the two to fall into a light nap as they bask in each other’s warmth after the emotionally draining morning. 

Taehyung appears to be deep in thought. The influx of information has affected him more than he outwardly shows. His tail twitches out from under the couch in flicks as his thoughts bounce from one fact to another. He knows that hunting down the ex and the abysmal excuse of a family you have isn’t allowed, but that doesn’t stop him from imagining all the ways he could nor what he would do once he has his claws in them.

Namjoon watches Taehyung with concern etched on his face. After taking in his lack of movement and the warmth of his ebony scent, Namjoon doesn’t think the tiger will do anything, so he leaves him be– for now.  Even though Yoongi is focused on their youngest and napping, Namjoon trusts him to wake up and react if Taehyung’s scent changes. The Prime Alpha also trusts the others to help by reining the quick-tempered tiger in or seeking help if anything arises. With a soft sigh, Namjoon decides this might be a good time to discuss a few more personal things with you.

Making his way to your den, the wolf hybrid strains his hearing to try and pick up your heartbeat and breathing since your stressed-out scent is still lingering in the hall. He leans into his instincts as an apex predator and an Alpha to ensure you are, at least physically, in a good spot to take visitors. Unfortunately, it doesn't let him know if you are emotionally or mentally ready for it.

As he listens to your gentle, measured breaths and your calm, rhythmic heartbeats, Namjoon knocks on the door. The rapid footsteps approaching the door make the Alpha question if you had been expecting someone. When the door swings open, Namjoon offers a friendly smile and adopts what he hopes is an open posture to indicate that his visit has a positive purpose.

“Oh, Namjoon, I wasn’t,” you start to say, seemingly caught off guard that he is the one who came. “I mean, is everything okay? I know I kinda rushed out of there. I didn’t even close the pack meeting, I just more or less bolted which isn’t proper of me. I should know better, I mean, I do know better.”

“Y/n, Angel, everything is good. I think the meeting was a good idea and we covered a lot of… deep topics,” He answers, trying to reassure you. “May I enter your den?”

Jumping slightly and scooting out of the way, you gesture for him to enter, saying, “Of course, how rude of me. Sorry. Umm… you may sit where you wish, Alpha.”

“No need to be sorry. I just wanted to have some…” Namjoon’s voice trails off as he walks in and sees your Jimin-built nest on the bed. He can tell that it’s been used, which gives him a sense of pride because you must find their sense comforting and, hopefully, safe. He knew you slept in it, but seeing it hits differently.  Taking a slow, deep breath, he inhales the scents from the nest. The mixture is much richer since adding your sweetpea, almost as if it had been absent the whole time.

You leave the door slightly ajar and turn to face Namjoon. With a tilted head and raised eyebrow, you ask him, "Some?”

His eyes flick between you and the nest before he smiles. Walking to sit on the window bench, he continues his train of thought, “Some time to speak with you again, minus the flashing lights of the red carpet and the other packmates. That is, if it is okay with you?”

“Sure, I will always try to find time for our Prime Alpha,” you answer, missing the flash of forest green eyes at the subtle but unknowing claim you said. As you pull one of the pillows from the window bench to sit on the floor, Namjoon gently tugs on the other end, his eyes slightly narrowed as he gestures to the space beside him. Smiling shyly, you pause mid-squat and sit beside him on the window bench. 

Turning to face you, the Alpha looks at you in a way that makes you feel like he is looking through you. It is a look you have seen from Derek and Evie when they are trying to figure you out without actually asking you. His breathing is steady and deep, which tells you he is trying to catch how your emotions are by your scent. Luckily for you and him, your scent is soft sweetpea with the undertone of vanilla, showing that you are no longer flustered or anxious from the pack meeting.

“How are you feeling? After the pack meeting?” asks the Prime Alpha, his instincts leading him to ensure he understands your scent's basics. “Your scent seems to be almost neutral. I assume my being in your den is why there is a perfumed edge to your natural sweetpea.”

Sitting up straight, you shake your head, arguing, “No! I don’t have a problem with you being in my room… ah den. I mean, you are the Prime Alpha and it is your packhouse that I am in. So, you have every right to be able to come into this space.”

“Actually, no. That isn’t correct,” frowns Namjoon. “I will say this, and Jimin will get more into the depths of it later: your space is your space. At any time, if you want to be left alone or not to allow any of us to be allowed into your den you have that right.”

Holding your hand between his two larger hands, he looks at you with a serious but warm gaze. “This is every bit your packhouse as it is mine, Yoongi-hyungs, or any of us,” he says, stroking his thumb across your hand. “You have a voice as strong as any of us regarding your comfort, well-being, and needs.”

Your eyes widen at his statement and cause you to shift in your spot. Swallowing, you shyly smile and answer, “Umm… I sort of got that impression. I know myself well enough to remind myself this is all a temporary thing, but sometimes, with how you all talk, it’s like… I don’t know, Namjoon. It’s just different.”

He has to bite his tongue and try his hardest not to correct your perception of ‘this thing,’ which is very much not just a thing nor temporary. Namjoon wants to confirm that no shit it’s different because you are their mate. He decided it was best not to get into that issue right now with everything you have heard so far, but he is afraid that you won’t hear it from him in the right way if he told you it to begin with. He already botched this once; he doesn't want to do it again. After a moment, Namjoon redirects the conversation to one of the reasons why he came in. 

“I wanted to thank you for attending the Gala with me last night,” Namjoon says while looking at your still connected hands. “I also wanted to commend you on how well you handled the situation with the carpet. I should have been in better control of myself but, then again, I haven’t ever taken a… a playmate to an event alone before. That was a first for me.”

Your scent fluffs a bit sweeter as you smile at him. “Thank you, Prime Alpha. I had hoped I did the right thing. I didn’t realize how much my scent would affect you, or I would have tried to keep it calm or turn it off, not that I know how to do that,” you say with your smile faltering. “That was a first for me too, the LACMA Gala and the Alphaing out thing. I am just glad that Jennie-ssi and Jung Jae-ssi were there to show me where to go.”

The memory of Namjoon's koalaing to your back causes you to giggle, which makes said Alpha look at you with a raised eyebrow, and you can’t help but laugh more. “You, ah, got very clingy. You reminded me more of a Koala hybrid than a Wolf hybrid then,” you smile. “It was cute and calming.”

A faint blush colors Namjoon’s face as he pulls his hands out from holding yours. You, however, reach out and hold his hands in yours instead. His eyes are looking at you with a hint of shock and curiosity.

“Namjoon, Prime Alpha,” you start with a soft expression, hoping your scent conveys your sincerity. “I know we started on the wrong foot. Not just you and I, but the whole pack and I. How I became your playmate wasn’t ideal, but it was what you thought was best for your packmates at the time.”

Namjoon goes to jump in, only to have you cut him off and continue by saying, “I know Hoseok thinks you need to grovel and beg me for forgiveness, kinda like how Taehyung is doing, but as the Luna of my family pack, I understand why you did what you did, more or less.”

“No, Y/n,” quietly says Namjoon with a slightly pained look. “It was wrong of me. Utterly wrong of me.”

Now it was your turn to be cut off from trying to excuse him out of feeling guilty when Namjoon stood up and walked away. Without turning back to you, he says, “There is so much… I mean, there are things your family has taught you about hybrids that are a bit awry. I am sure that your family pack has tried to help teach you more things but then again, it’s hard to change something that someone has lived with their whole life.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, shifting in your seat. “I know about hybrid stuff. I don’t know about Alpha-specific things, but I can see if I can take a class for that. I am sure PMS will pay for it.”

Shaking his head, Namjoon turns to face you. He looked to the ceiling and ran his hand through his hair, stopping to scratch the back of his wolf ear before he answered, “You have a pack full of Alphas that are more than happy to teach you more accurately than any class will. Jimin-ah said he would enjoy teaching you the hybrid way of nests and boundaries. Hoseok has some ideas about other things, and I am sure the rest of us will find our things to show and teach you.”

“We,” Namjoon pauses, mumbling something about why words do not seem to work well around you before he looks at you and continues, “We don’t want to push you too far too fast, and I am worried we might. Please remember that you always have the right to stop anything we do. If any of us make you uncomfortable, please don’t hesitate to come to me, and if it’s me, you can talk with one of the hyungs, okay?”

You look at the floor with scrunched brows. “Why is that a recurring thing with you?” you ask, looking up at him with a very concerned look. “Every time we talk about something or do something, someone brings up that I can stop things and say no. Are you trying to make sure I know or are you all trying to remind yourselves that I can?”

Your accusatory tone and the point of your question take back Namjoon. It makes him pause and stare at you as your scent turns more into its perfumed side, meaning he has done nothing towards settling things with you and only makes you worry more. Rubbing his hand down his face, he lets out a low growl of frustration at himself.

Knock Knock

Namjoon spins around to your door, his growl deepening at the interruption before he sees Seokjin standing there. With a huff, Namjoon stops growling, and his shoulders sag at seeing the eldest mate. 

“I just wanted to let you know that lunch is ready,” Seokjin says with narrowed eyes and a slightly turned head as he takes in Namjoon’s reaction to a simple knock on the door. Looking past his Prime Alpha, he takes in your stiff posture, instinctively making him take a deeper breath. 

Namjoon’s leather smells like it has been left under the sun for too long, and it mixes with your perfumed sweetpea, but there remains the hint of the vanilla mate scent. Shaking his head, Seokjin steps inside your den to stand beside the wolf hybrid, who follows his movements with a pleading look. 

Putting his arms around Namjoon, Seokjin looks at you with a soft smile. “I take it the pack meeting didn’t stop in the living room?” he asks.

You roll your eyes in an almost agreeing movement, turning your head away from the two. Namjoon just lets out a soft whine and leans into the elder mate. “I see,” says Seokjin. “Well, there have been a lot of deep discussions and apparently unanswered questions or mixed feelings remain.”

“You got that right,” you mumble under your breath. Both hybrids hear it. Namjoon looks at Seokjin with wide eyes. His scent turns more into a burnt version. 

With a sigh, Seokjin maneuvers Namjoon to start heading out the door, instructing, “Joonie-ah, go and gather the pack for lunch. I am sure our muscle bunny has probably already started, but get the rest to settle in. Y/n and I will join in a few, but don’t wait.”

Opening his mouth to object, wanting to help resolve what he assumes is another fuck up on his part. Seokjin raises his eyebrow and holds up a finger, causing the Prime Alpha to close his mouth and quickly walk out of the room. His actions pull an amused hum from you, bringing the eldest hybrid’s attention back to you. 

Looking up, you look back down quickly, saying, “Sorry. Never thought I would see a Prime Alpha back down and leave without a word like that.”

“Oh,” giggles Seokjin with a wave of his hand. “Namjoon is the Prime Alpha but every once in a while he needs his Hyung to get him to listen. He really is a lap puppy under all that tough, leader persona.”

Noting that your scent hasn’t changed much, even with Namjoon leaving, Seokjin asks, “Are you alright, Y/n?”

Looking back at the eldest hybrid, you think for a moment. Are you okay? Technically, yes, you are, but you are also full of questions that keep zipping around while feeling lost but not at the same time. A tap on your forehead causes you to blink your eyes and quickly lean back when you see Seokjin just inches from your face. 

“I lost you for a bit,” comments Seokjin. “Are you hungry or do you think you can wait for a bit?”

“Umm, well, I am not starving,” you answer. “Why?”

“Good, come with me,” Seokjin said, grabbing your hand, pulling you to your feet and out the door. In a booming voice, he yells, “Jungkook, Yoongi! Nesting room, now!”

Hissing at him, you say, “Jin! They are eating, what are you doing?”

“Just be a good girl and come with me,” he smirks. The sound of chairs scraping and shouts of agreement come, but your brain is shorting out on two simple words– good girl.

You have been called many things before in your lifetime, but a good girl has never been one of them, at least not that you can remember. The tingles that it gave your brain decided to trickle down your back like a teasing caress, and that was something you weren’t expecting. Then again, after only being around these men for about a week now, you should be used to the unexpected. The question you will have to unpack later is, was it the name ‘good girl,’ was it how Seokjin said it, or was it because Seokjin said it that caused that reaction?

For Jin, your scent doesn’t give away your internal reaction to those words as much as your sudden lack of resistance does. Glancing over his shoulder as he leads you down the hall to the nesting room, he can see your eyes have fallen to your feet while your cheeks have become rosie.

Inside the nesting room, Seokjin sits you on the edge of the nest and kneels at your feet. After looking at your soles, he shakes his head, grabs a wet wipe from one of the drawers, and starts wiping off what you think might be grass and dirt from your walk outside this morning. Seokjin was muttering something about dirty feet and Taehyung having a heart attack if he knew as he cleaned you up.

While he is doing that, Yoongi walks in, followed by Jungkook, who is still holding a sandwich. Both seem to pause for a second before the perfumed sweetpea hits them. With a shared look, Jungkook quickly scarfed down the sandwich and ran to the kitchen to get everyone bottled water and the mango package they had the staff bring just for you. 

Without a word, Yoongi moved into the nest and rearranged the pillows and blankets. After smelling the hint of leather and the state of your scent, his goal was to lessen Namjoon’s presence in the nest while still keeping it there enough that you would start to associate it as something safe. Pulling Jimin’s, Taehyung’s, and Hoseok’s scents towards the middle, hoping to give you a subconscious signal that your mates are with you right now. 

You watched everything happening with a soft smile. It didn’t take much to recognize that they would try and use contact comfort to help you collect your thoughts or at least slow them down. Evie’s family would do this with you often, as contact comfort was one of the most helpful in settling the scents of packmates. The idea that their wordless agreements and understanding of the situation were so in sync when it came to something like this with you made your heart warm and your scent to fluff with vanilla and a hint of pear. 

Once Jungkook was back, your feet were cleaned, and the nest was remade. Yoongi curled up to the far back of the nest while Jungkook and Seokjin stood outside in front of you. 

Putting down his snacks, Jungkook looked at you with concern, asking, “Sweets, is everything okay? Your scent is kind of confusing.” He takes a deeper breath before continuing, “It’s like, you are not rejecting what happened, but worrying about it? Yet there is something else but I don’t know what it means.”

Before you can answer, Seokjin answers, “She and Joonie had a talk in her den. I think our handsome mate still hasn’t learned how to speak without putting his paw in his mouth around a certain lovely lady.”

Yoongi grumbles from behind you before he reaches out with a hand on your shoulder and gently pulls you back into the nest. “Namjoon-ah needs to stop trying to fix things without talking to one of us,” comments the jaguar. 

“There really wasn’t anything to fix, though,” you retorted as you scooted back and centered yourself in the nest. “I told him I understood why he made me your playmate and that he was just looking out for you guys, and you could have sworn I told him that I didn’t think hybrids existed.”

“Then, when he told me about the plan to have you lot teach me the ropes about Alphas and I guess what it means to be a hybrid, he reminded me yet again that I can say no,” You huff pulling off his bathroom, which is trying to strangle you as it catches on the nesting materials. “I mean, how many times does he or any of you need to say it? Like, I got it. No means no; it always has.”

“Dear, Namjoon was only trying to ensure or reinforce that boundaries aren’t a problem,” Seokjin reiterates, to which you huff and throw the robe out of the nest. All three hybrids pause, watching as if throwing it aside signifies something more important than merely removing it and stopping it from being in the way. 

“Oh yeah, reinforce for who? I asked him,” You start to sass. “If the reminders were actually for me or him.” That garners a low, skin-tingling growl from Yoongi; meanwhile, Seokjin and Jungkook look like you just said something unexpected. 

“Princess,” growls Yoongi. “We. Are. Alphas. We are not like those trashy, self-indulgent, egotistical, unethical humans who hold the unfortunate claim to being male because they possess the right chromosomes.”

Shifting you further onto your back and leaning over you so that he is inches from your face, upside down, Yoongi continues, “But that is all they are– male. They are not men; they will never be considered an Alpha. It would be wise for you to remember that you are surrounded by Alpha men. Understood, Princess?”

Internally, you are yelling at yourself for the rush of arousal that floods your system at his nonpermissive tone of voice and darkened expression. Your scent flaring with sweetness as your vanilla mate scent thickens like a syrup, signaling the two less dominant mates in the room know that they can relax.  

You start to nod and pause when Yoongi’s eyes narrow slightly at your moments. Swallowing and licking your lip, you softly say, “Yes, Alpha.”

A smile softens his face at your reply. Slowly, Yoongi leans down, kisses your forehead softly, and mutters, “Good girl, Princess.”

There you go again, a tingle down your spine at the use of ‘good girl.’ Guess you now have your answer to the question. Apparently, the term caused a reaction because it has now happened to both Seokjin and Yoongi. God, you are gonna need to learn how to stop acting like a hormone-driven teenager around these “Alpha Men,” or you are gonna lose your job. Seriously, how do playmates do this day in and day out?

“Maybe they are just used to it? Not all of them can resist having some kind of attraction, or the partner rut contracts wouldn’t be a thing,” answers Jungkook, his ears standing tall and listening intently to everything.

You snap your head up, almost hitting Yoongi, and as you look at Jungkook with wide eyes, you ask, “Did… how much did I say out loud?”

Tilting his head, causing one ear to fold in half, with slight confusion, he slowly says, “How do playmates do this… day in and out? Did you not want an answer?”

You giggle softly and try to play it off, “I guess, I did. I just didn’t think I said it loud enough for you… umm… to hear.”

Jungkook smiles, happy to have answered your question with his exceptional hearing skills. “I can hear hushed things. It’s all part of being a prey hybrid. As a rabbit, I can hear something up to two miles away, but typically, the sound has to be in a higher pitch.”

You nod and lay back down, glancing up at Yoongi as he lies along the wall before looking at Seokjin. Seokjin and Yoongi snicker at your attempt but say nothing. 

Kneeling in the nest, Seokjin taps your leg, saying, “In your den, it seemed to me that you just need a moment to exist. Based on your actions, I also noticed that Yoongi and Kookie are your safe packmates in Bangtan.”

“I was thinking, you can take some time to lay in a proper nest with your two protectors and either relax, ask questions, explore your dynamic with them. Whatever you need right now,” offers Seokjin. “I will be here as well just to help facilitate, in case one of their Alphas front.”

“Oh, umm… Like a grounding session?” you ask to clarify. 

Seokjin smiles, agreeing, “Yes, a grounding session. Typically, as hybrids, we also scent the packmate that is the focus of the grounding session but that is entirely up to you.”

Jungkook inquisitively approaches the nest, asking, “Is it okay for me to come in? Can I lay at your back? Please?” His eyes look more like a doe than a bunny, which causes you to smile and nod because how could you deny such a simple request?

Excitedly, Jungkook hops into the nest and quickly gets in his spot behind you as you lean on your side, giving him space. While you spot Yoongi moving to take his place in front of you, you don’t notice Jungkook taking off his shirt. When Yoongi leans into your chest like a big kitten, nuzzling along the collarbones that peek out from your tank top sleepwear, you feel warm skin against your shoulders. You try to move away, but the weight of Yoongi on your chest and Jungkook’s arm wrapping around your waist stops you. 

Both of your protectors know they are pushing their actions a bit, but after the pack meeting, they are hopeful they can. At this point, all three hybrids can smell the spike perfume as they settle around you, but they wait to see what you will do. It takes only seconds for that perfume to dissipate and become more like the floral notes of jasmine. 

Yoongi instinctively purrs at the happy scent of you as it surrounds him, mixing with Jungkook’s snickerdoodle and hints of the pack from the nest. Jungkook’s cotton tail wiggles at the change in your scent—the feeling of finally having you in his arms where you belong adds to his elation. 

Seokjin, on the other hand, breathes a sigh of relief that you subconsciously or instinctively decided to accept their bolder moves. Not only is your personal scent showing your acceptance of their contact comfort, but the mate scent remains consistent and syrupy. Show each of them that your bond with the bunny and the jaguar has, in fact, grown. 

However, experiencing intimate contact with Jungkook can be slightly intimidating, especially with the entire pack home and two in the same room. It is unexpectedly reassuring once you take a moment to stop to remember the discussion from the pack meeting and then start feeling. The warmth of Jungkook’s body melding with your back is more pleasant than expected. The presence of a hybrid-sized heated weighted blanket, which Yoongi has become soothing, allows your mind to divert from the racing thoughts. 

Relaxing into their hold, you adjust to lean more against Jungkook, who happily accepts by pulling you closer at the waist. Your arm drapes over Yoongi and rests below his neck, between his shoulder blades. With a small break in his purring, Yoongi scoots closer since you moved away from him, causing your hand to slide up his neck and into the base of his hair. His furry ears twitch and almost flutter at the feeling as his purring increases. 

Taking that as a good sign, you slowly scratch at his scalp almost absentmindedly as you breathe in the spring rain of Yoongi’s petrichor and Jungkook’s sweet but spiced snickerdoodle. Your mind slowly becomes a buzz of peace and calmness you haven’t experienced in a long time. It’s not long till your soft snores are heard over Yoongi’s purring.

Seokjin finds his way around, where he knows his bonded mates can see him and catch their attention. Much to Seokjin’s prediction, he has the attention of a golden-yellow-eyed Alpha and a smokey grey-eyed Alpha. His tender and proud smile blooms at the younger Alpha’s comforting, caring, and protecting their ladymate. 

“Alpha Yoon, Alpha Kook,” Seokjin greets. “I will step out and let the pack know our Ladymate is being cared for and not to worry or bother the three of you. I will be in and out to check on you guys.”

Alpha Kook nods and pulls you closer to himself, wanting you to stay comfortable and warm. Alpha Yoon, however, looks at Seokjin like he wants to say something as his eyes narrow at the older bonded mate. 

“Yes, Alpha Yoon?” asks Seokjin, attempting to prompt him into speaking his mind. 

With a broken purr, Alpha Yoon demands, “Bring Tae. Must serve mate. Keep warm. Stay close.”

Seokjin’s eyes light with understanding. “That’s right, Alpha Yoon. Taehyung is in service to Y/n right now,” affirms Seokjin. “I will send him in next, but I will ensure he knows you two are in charge of this right now.”

After Alpha Yoon thinks about what Seokjin said, he nods and snuggles closer, prompting Seokjin to stand quietly and leave the nest in search of the pack—specifically, a tiger to send in and a wolf to have a serious discussion with. 

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[writingpandagoth]

hi! I want to say that I really really love your job and I'm reading almost all of them!! I had an idea for request and I was wondering if you could do it.

So, this is in the marauders era, and Y/N potter is James' little sister and when she arrives to hogwarts she literally loved Severus from the 1st sec, and eventually they start what could be a "relationship" but james find them. While they were """busy""""

I have been looking for something like this but i just dont find anything 😭😭😭😭😭

I started writing it. Changed my plans for the storyline in the middle of it and thats what came from it😂

I hope you like it!❤️

In The Shadows of Us

You don't even make it to the Gryffindor table before James has you in a headlock.

“Gryffindor! I knew it!” he crows, practically dragging you off your feet. “Brilliant choice. Inspired, really. I mean, it’s in the blood.”

“Gerroff, James,” you hiss, elbowing him hard enough that he finally lets go, laughing.

Sirius Black whistles down the table. “Another Potter. We’re doomed.”

You roll your eyes, fixing your robes as you drop into the only open seat. It’s only your first night, and already, you’re ‘Potter’s little sister’ to everyone who matters. You pick up your goblet and drink deeply, wishing you could vanish into it.

Thats when you spot him.

Not because he’s loud or smiling or trying to be seen but because he isn’t.

He sits alone at the Slytherin table, shoulders hunched, dark hair hanging like a curtain around his face.

His plate is mostly untouched. His head is bowed. He looks...out of place.

Like he’s already figured out the world has no interest in making space for him.

James is beside you, laughing loudly with Sirius about something you barely hear.

You’re supposed to be celebrating.

You’re supposed to be excited.

Instead, your eyes keep flickering back to the boy in green and silver.

You don’t even know his name yet.

But your heart tugs strangely in your chest—sharp, unexpected.

Like you’ve just stumbled onto something you’re not meant to touch, but can’t look away from.

In your first Potions class, you learn his name.

Severus Snape.

He sits three rows down, ink-stained fingers moving quickly over parchment.

He’s good.

Brilliant, actually.

You notice how fast he jots down notes. How his brow furrows in concentration. How his mouth twists, almost smiling, when Slughorn praises him.

No one else notices.

They’re too busy snickering behind their hands, throwing paper at each other, whispering names you don’t like.

You find yourself defending him before you even realize it.

When Sirius makes a joke about greasy hair, you snap, "At least he’s paying attention."

James throws you a look—half confused, half amused.

You ignore it.

You don’t care.

Not when Severus looks up, just for a second, and you swear he smiles.

The first real moment happens in the library.

You drop your Charms textbook with a loud thud, wincing as Madam Pince glares from behind the desk.

Before you can bend to pick it up, someone’s already there.

Long, slender fingers brush the spine.

Severus Snape straightens, holding the book out to you without a word.

Up close, his face is sharper than you expected. Pale, serious, with eyes that seem to burn right through you.

"Thanks," you mumble, flustered.

He gives the smallest nod.

Almost like he’s not used to being thanked.

Almost like he’s not used to being seen.

You open your mouth—say something, anything— but he’s already gone, disappearing between the stacks.

Still, the warmth lingers in your chest long after he’s gone.

You find yourself looking for him after that.

In the corridors. In the library. At meals.

Sometimes you catch him staring too, quickly looking away when you notice.

Sometimes you imagine what it would be like to sit beside him instead of across the Hall.

Sometimes you wonder what he’d sound like laughing.

James teases you about daydreaming. Sirius makes faces behind your back. You let them.

You don’t tell them your daydreams have nothing to do with Gryffindor Quidditch victories or pranks on Slytherins.

You don’t tell them your heart races faster when you think about a boy with ink-stained hands and tired eyes.

You keep it quiet.

It's weeks later when you’re wandering back to Gryffindor Tower after a disastrous study session (you still can’t get that feather to bloody float properly) when you spot a sliver of candlelight spilling out from under the library doors.

Curious, you push them open.

There he is. Same table. Same hunched shoulders. Same deep focus.

You hesitate. This is stupid. You should go.

Instead, you slip inside and take the seat across from him.

He looks up slowly, suspicion flashing across his face.

“You’re James Potter’s sister,” he says.

“Unfortunately.”

Something flickers in his eyes—amusement? disbelief? You’re not sure.

“Shouldn’t you hate me?”

You shrug. “Maybe I should. But I don’t.”

He huffs a small, disbelieving laugh, then ducks his head, hiding it behind a curtain of hair.

You smile to yourself and crack open one of your books.

You don’t say another word for the next hour, but somehow, you leave feeling like something important just happened.

It becomes a pattern.

Unspoken meetings in the dead hours of night. Shared silences. Snatches of conversation about classes, spells, potions. His sharp wit makes you laugh. Your stubbornness makes him roll his eyes in fond irritation.

You keep it hidden from James, from Sirius, from everyone.

Not because it’s wrong. Because it’s yours.

Because you know no one else would understand

And that’s how it all began.

--

It’s been five years now since that night in the library. Since he looked at you like he didn’t know what to make of you, and you smiled anyway.

Five years since your little crush turned into love for him. 

Five years of stolen moments. Quiet laughter. Shared secrets.

Five years of friendship no one knows about.

Not James. Not Sirius. Not Remus, even though you think he suspects.

Certainly not Lily, who’s been drifting further from Severus with every passing term.

But you—you’ve stayed. Even when he pulled away. Even when he said he didn’t deserve to have anyone.

The library is nearly empty, the candles burned down low to nubs, the sky outside ink-black.

You’re supposed to be studying.

Instead, you’re sitting too close to Severus, knees brushing under the table, pretending not to notice how he’s looking at you.

"You're not concentrating," he says, voice low and dry.

"Neither are you," you shoot back, trying for lightness but failing miserably.

His lips twitch—half a smirk, half something softer.

He leans in a little, close enough that you can smell the faint sharpness of potions clinging to his robes, the worn leather of old books.

You tilt your chin up without thinking.

The world shrinks to the space between your mouths—an inch, a breath, a heartbeat.

You could kiss him. Right now.

You want to.

He freezes, studying you like he’s memorizing your face, like he's terrified and desperate all at once.

For a second, it feels inevitable.

Then a floorboard creaks somewhere in the stacks.

He jerks back like you burned him, eyes darting to the door.

You sit there, heart hammering, lips tingling with a kiss that didn’t happen.

The moment slides between you, thick and heavy and undeniable.

Neither of you says a word.

You turn back to your books, pretending your hands aren’t shaking.

He does the same.

But it’s too late now.

You both know something's changed.

The next day, James corners you after lunch.

“You’ve been off lately,” he says, arms crossed. “Everything okay?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, James. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

Sirius laughs. Remus doesn’t.

You feel their eyes on you long after you walk away.

Later you find yourself sitting with Severus in the old greenhouse, knees bumping under the low wooden bench, the only light coming from your shared wand resting on the windowsill.

The world outside is silent. The castle's asleep. But you’re wide awake.

You're arguing—again.

About something stupid. Some half-forgotten Potions theory from class.

"You’re wrong," you insist, poking him in the ribs.

He catches your hand easily, fingers wrapping around yours in a slow, deliberate movement.

You should pull back.

You don’t.

Instead, you stay like that—caught between stubbornness and something thicker, something heavier that you’ve both been pretending not to feel.

His thumb brushes across your knuckles absentmindedly.

It’s such a small thing.

But it makes your whole body go still.

You look up at him.

He’s already looking at you.

The argument dies in your throat.

All you can hear is the rush of your own pulse.

He leans in a fraction.

Enough to make your breath hitch. Enough that you could pretend it’s nothing if you wanted to.

You don’t want to.

Your free hand lifts instinctively—tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips.

He closes his eyes like he’s in pain.

When he opens them again, you see it—laid bare for the first time.

Want. Fear. Hope.

"You should stop me," he says, voice rough and uncertain.

You don’t move. You just whisper, "Don't stop."

And that’s it.

He closes the distance.

The kiss is nothing like you expected.

It’s clumsy. It’s too hard at first, teeth bumping awkwardly.

You both laugh, breathless and nervous.

Then he tilts his head, and you tilt yours, and suddenly— it's right.

His mouth moves against yours with a kind of desperation, as if he's been holding back for too long and doesn't know how to be gentle about it anymore.

You slide your hand into his hair, tugging him closer.

He groans quietly into your mouth, his other hand finding your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

You kiss him back like you’re afraid you’ll never get the chance again.

When you finally pull apart, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours.

Neither of you speaks. There’s nothing to say.

The first kiss should have been enough.

It should have been a fluke—a mistake to laugh off, bury under awkward silences and mumbled excuses.

It should have ended there.

But it didn't.

Instead, it ignited something.

Something that had been smoldering between you for years, waiting for the right spark.

Now, every look lingers too long. Every brush of hands feels electric. Every stolen second alone turns dangerous.

You crave him like oxygen. always have.

And judging by the way Severus watches you when he thinks you’re not looking, the way his hands twitch at his sides like he’s fighting himself—he craves you too.

It starts small.

A kiss stolen in the shadows of a stairwell. A hand slipping under your robes to squeeze your hip before disappearing into the crowd. A whispered, "Meet me tonight." against the shell of your ear that makes your knees go weak.

You both know it’s reckless. You both know it can’t stay hidden forever but it’s already too late.

You’re too far gone.

And the taste of his mouth still clinging to yours is all the excuse you need to chase it again.

The corridor is abandoned except for you and Severus, hidden half behind an ancient suit of armor.

Your back slams lightly against the stone wall as he presses into you, mouth moving hungrily against yours, hands braced on either side of your head.

You wind your fingers into his hair, tugging him closer, swallowing the broken sounds he makes against your lips.

Footsteps echo from somewhere down the hall.

You both freeze—lips still barely touching, breaths harsh against each other's skin.

Severus pulls back just enough to whisper against your mouth, "Later."

You kiss him once more anyway, fierce and reckless, before darting away in opposite directions.

And again.

You slip into the back corner of the library, pretending to search the dusty shelves.

Severus is already there, hidden in the shadows between towering bookcases.

No words.

Just his hand catching yours, pulling you into the gloom.

He cages you between the shelf and his body, kissing you before you can even breathe.

It’s slow, deep, burning.

Your hands slide up under his open robe, tracing warm skin and the sharp bones of his hips.

He bites back a low sound when your hips brush.

You both know this is insane. You both don't care.

And neither of you is going to stop.

The greenhouse is humid, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and blooming moonflowers when he asks you to be his girlfriend. You barley have said yes before Severus grabs your waist, hoisting you up onto the long wooden worktable.

You wrap your legs around him automatically, pulling him flush against you.

His mouth is frantic against yours, fingers digging into your thighs.

Your hands trail under his shirt, feeling the sharp contrast between damp fabric and burning skin.

A pot clatters to the floor behind you.

You both freeze, staring at the door.

When no one comes, he just growls low in his throat and kisses you harder.

Like he can't stand being careful anymore now that he can call you his.

--

You push open the portrait hole as quietly as you can.

The Fat Lady mutters grumpily under her breath, but you slip through before she can scold you properly.

It’s nearly midnight.

The common room is dark, save for the dying embers in the fireplace. Chairs pushed askew, books forgotten on tables. Silent.

You breathe out slowly, easing toward the girls' staircase—

"Where were you?"

The voice cuts through the dark like a knife.

You jump, spinning around.

James sits in one of the armchairs, half-sunken into the cushions, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glinting in the low firelight.

Waiting.

Watching.

"I—I was in the library," you lie, too fast.

He arches a disbelieving brow. "Library closes at ten."

"Studying," you mumble, heat prickling at the back of your neck. "Lost track of time."

James stands slowly, unfolding himself to his full, infuriating height.

"You've been disappearing a lot lately," he says carefully, like he's testing the waters. "Skipping meals. Staying out after curfew. Coming back looking like—" He gestures vaguely at you—your wrinkled robes, your tangled hair, your flushed cheeks.

You cross your arms defensively.

"So what? I'm not allowed to have a life?"

"Depends who's in it," he says, voice sharp.

You meet his gaze stubbornly.

He narrows his eyes. Searching your face for something you won't give him.

Finally, he shakes his head, disgusted.

"Whatever," he mutters, brushing past you toward the boys' staircase. "But if you think I'm not paying attention—you’re wrong."

The words hang behind him like a curse.

You stand there long after he’s gone, heart hammering.

James is suspicious.

Too suspicious.

--

James lounges in one of the worn-out armchairs in the Gryffindor common room the following night, tossing a Chocolate Frog in the air and catching it lazily.

You’re supposed to be upstairs.

Asleep. Safe. Instead, you’re nowhere to be seen.

Again.

"You know," Sirius says, grinning as he drops into the chair beside him, "if you’re so worried about her sneaking off, we could just check."

James frowns. "Check what?"

Sirius smirks, pulling a folded, worn piece of parchment from his pocket.

James' stomach sinks.

The Marauders' Map.

"Always knew you were paranoid, Prongs," Sirius says easily. "Now you can prove it."

James hesitates—guilt flickering in his gut but not enough to stop him.

He taps the map once with his wand.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The parchment comes alive under his hands, black ink curling into familiar hallways and stairwells.

Dots labeled with names begin to appear all over the map—some clustered in dormitories, some roaming late through the castle.

He scans quickly.

No sign of you in Gryffindor Tower. Not in the library. Not in the Great Hall.

His stomach knots tighter.

Then he sees it.

Severus Snape Y/N Potter

In an abandoned classroom.

Far from everything else.

He doesn't think. He shoves to his feet, knocking the chair over, map clutched tight in his hand.

"Where are you going?" Remus asks sharply.

James doesn't answer.

He’s already gone, heart hammering, fists clenched.

Already sprinting down the stairs, across the courtyard, through the darkened halls.

Already knowing—knowing—that whatever he finds won't be something he can ever unsee.

Already furious.

--

You had once again sneaked out to meet Severus in the abandoned classroom where you always meet now. You had found it by accident after looking for a quiet place to make out in peace.

He’s already there, leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, hair falling into his eyes. He looks every bit the dark, dangerous secret he’s always been—and he is all yours.

You slip inside without a word. His wand flicks. The door shuts with a low thunk.

You set your books down noisily, pretending you don’t see him watching you.

Pretending you’re not vibrating with the need to touch him.

He crosses the room in two long strides.

“You’re late,” he says quietly, but there’s no real bite to it.

“Did you missed me?“ you tease, smirking.

He shakes his head, that small, private smile you love flashing across his face.

“You have no idea how much.”

His fingers skim your sleeve first. Testing. Asking.

When you don’t move, he steps closer.

His hand slides down your arm slowly—slow enough to make you shiver—and tangles his fingers with yours.

The kiss is inevitable.

You lean into him, your mouth finding his easily, naturally, like you were made for it. His hands come up to cup your jaw, tilting your head just right, deepening it.

And when he kisses you properly—really kisses you—you forget how to stand.

Your back hits the desk. His robes are cool against your legs as he presses between them. His fingers slip under your shirt, tracing your ribs lightly, making you arch into his touch.

He breathes your name against your throat.

You tug at the buttons of his shirt, frustrated when they don’t come undone fast enough. He laughs—quiet and strained—and pulls it over his head instead, leaving him gloriously rumpled and flushed.

You run your hands across the planes of his chest, savoring the way he shudders under your touch.

"Severus," you whisper, pulling him closer.

He groans low in his throat, like he’s barely holding himself back.

He lifts you onto the desk properly, standing between your knees now, and drags his mouth over your jaw, your neck, the hollow at your throat. His teeth scrape lightly over your skin, making you gasp.

His hands are everywhere—your hips, your back, your thighs. opening your shirt.

You cling to him, kissing him harder, needing more.

Your shirt is pushed open, your skirt hitched higher around your waist. You feel him against you, hard and trembling with restraint, and it hits you how close you are to not stopping this time.

He breaks away long enough to mutter, "Tell me to stop."

"I don't want to," you breathe, pulling him back.

You want this. You want him.

Completely.

His hand slides up your thigh, hesitating only a second before moving higher.

You gasp against his mouth.

He curses under his breath—your name twisted into something desperate—and then he is laying you back against the desk with heartbreaking care.

You feel his hands fumble with the button of your skirt—

The door crashes open with a bang so loud it rattles the old windows.

You barely register the sound—too wrapped up in Severus, in the heat of his mouth on your neck, the desperate clutch of his hands on your hips.

You gasp, shoving Severus back instinctively.

He freezes.

And you turn—already knowing.

Already dreading.

James stands in the doorway, wand drawn, face contorted with something worse than rage.

Betrayal.

James' gaze flicks between you, taking in every disastrous detail. And then he moves.

Fast.

He barrels across the room and shoves Severus back with both hands.

"GET YOUR BLOODY HANDS OFF HER!" James roars, voice cracking.

Severus stumbles but doesn’t fight back, hands raised, palms open.

"James, STOP!" you cry, scrambling off the desk, yanking your shirt closed with trembling fingers.

He doesn’t even look at you.

"You slimy little bastard," James snarls at Severus, wand jabbing at his chest. "How long has this been going on, huh? How long have you been sneaking around with my sister like some—some filthy—"

"Don’t!" you scream, shoving James back now, standing between them. “It’s not what you think—”

"Not what I think?! I caught you practically shagging Snape on a classroom desk!“ He got even more furious saying it pulling you away from Severus and bringing himself between the two of you again.

"We're together, James!” you shout, chest heaving. “We've been friends since my first year. We didn’t expect to catch feelings.“

James flinches like you hit him.

"You—you let him touch you For Years?! That greasy git?!"

„Don’t talk about him like that! I love him!" you shout.

It rips out of you before you can stop it.

The words hang heavy in the air.

Severus speaks then, voice low and broken: "I love her too I won’t hurt her…“

James rounds on Severus.

"You think loving her matters?" he spits. "You really think that matters?! after what you said to Lily?! You truly think you are worthy of my Sister!? You think loving her makes you deserve her?!You don't even deserve to breathe the same bloody air as her!“

Severus recoils.

Not from James.

From the truth he already believes.

You see it hit him like a curse.

Hard.

Final.

You step toward him, desperate, reaching out.

“Sev—”

He shakes his head once. Sharp.

He bends to scoop up his shirt from the floor with shaking hands, not meeting your eyes.

"Severus," you plead, grabbing his arm. "Please. Don’t—"

He pulls away like your touch burns him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." he says, voice cracked and broken.

And then he shoves past you both and bolts out the door.

You lurch forward without thinking.

"Severus—!"

You’re halfway to the door when an arm wraps around you, dragging you back.

"Y/N, STOP!" James snaps, voice urgent, tight with anger.

You thrash against him, struggling, fighting to break free.

"Let me GO!" you scream, kicking and shoving, but he won’t loosen his grip.

"Just listen to me!" James hisses into your ear. "He’s not good for you. You’re upset—you’re not thinking straight. Whatever he told you it was just to ruin you."

"I’m thinking clearer than I ever have!" you sob, fists pounding uselessly against his chest. "And you—you’re the one who ruined it!"

James pulls you back harder, trying to force you to face him.

"You’ll thank me someday," he says, voice trembling. "I—I had to. I couldn’t stand there and watch you throw your life away on—on him."

You whip around, shoving him back with both hands.

"Thank you?" you repeat, voice rising. "You think I’ll THANK you for this?"

You step forward, shaking with fury and heartbreak.

"You didn’t save me, James," you hiss. "You broke me."

James' mouth opens—maybe to defend himself, maybe to argue.

You cut him off.

"You have NO right," you shout. "No right to decide who I love. No right to tear him down in front of me. No right to rip apart the one thing that made me feel like I wasn’t just—just some extension of YOU!"

Your voice cracks completely, the sob ripping out of you.

"He loves me," you choke out. "And you—you made him think he was a monster for it."

James grabs your wrists, trying to steady you, but you wrench away.

"He left because of YOU!" you sob. "Because you couldn’t see anything but your own damn hatred!"

James looks stricken.

"Y/N—"

You turn away from him, chest heaving, heart aching so badly you don’t know how you’re still standing.

"I love him," you whisper again, broken and quiet now. "And now he’s gone because you made him believe he shouldn’t have ever touched me. Like being with me and loving me is wrong…“

--

The Gryffindor common room is nearly empty when James hauls you through the portrait hole.

The fire burns low, casting long shadows across the floor.

Sirius is slouched on one of the couches, tossing a Gobstone from hand to hand.

Remus sits nearby, a book forgotten in his lap, brows furrowed.

They both look up when you enter and freeze.

You’re pale. Empty. Your clothes rumpled, your hair a mess, your face so hollow it doesn’t even look like you anymore.

You don’t say a word. You don’t even look at them.

You just walk—no, stumble—across the room and up the girls' staircase without stopping.

The dormitory door clicks shut behind you.

The silence you leave behind is deafening.

James stands there for a second, fists clenching and unclenching, breathing hard like he’s just fought a war.

Maybe he has.

"What the bloody hell happened? Who did she sneak off with?" Sirius demands, sitting up straight, the Gobstone forgotten, rolling onto the floor.

James turns, jaw tight.

"Snivellus" he spits.

Remus' eyebrows pull together sharply.

Sirius whistles low. "Snape? Seriously?"

James paces, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Had her pinned against a bloody desk," he snarls. "Half-dressed. Hands all over her—"

Sirius swears loudly, jumping to his feet. "You should’ve cursed his bollocks off!"

James shakes his head violently. "I should’ve killed him."

Remus stays silent. Watching. Thinking.

"He must have messed her up badly the way she looked like" Sirius presses, jaw set.

James doesn’t answer at first. When he finally speaks, his voice is raw.

"She said she loves him."

The words hang in the air, ugly and unbelievable. Sirius looks like he’s about to vomit. Remus just sits there, silent, pale, staring at the stairs you disappeared up.

Not at James.

Not at Sirius.

"She’s not thinking straight," James insists, half to them, half to himself. "She’s innocent. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. He—he’s twisted her around."

Sirius nods fiercely, fanning the flames. "Exactly. She’ll realize. She’ll thank you for saving her."

James nods along with him, desperate for someone to agree.

Remus just watches the fire crackle and die, his mouth a thin, worried line.

Finally, he speaks—quietly, too quietly.

"I don’t think she’s going to thank you, James."

James freezes.

"What the hell’s that supposed to mean?"

Remus looks at him—really looks at him—and sighs.

"I think you just broke something you can’t fix."

No one says anything after that.

The fire guttered low. The common room swallowed in shadows. The world tilting under their feet—and none of them knowing how to stop it.

And upstairs, behind a closed door, you cry into your pillow for the boy who ran—and the brother who pushed him away.

Next morning everywhere you go, one of them is there—leaning against the corridor wall, “casually” reading a book by the portrait hole, “just happening” to walk into whatever room you’re in.

If you so much as glance toward the dungeons, Sirius is suddenly cracking a joke, slinging an arm around your shoulders and steering you in the opposite direction.

If you take too long at dinner, James nudges your plate toward you, frowning like you’ve committed a crime by not eating.

You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You sure as hell can’t slip away to find Severus.

At first, you try.

You sneak toward the library after dinner:

Sirius appears two corridors over, yawning theatrically.

You slip out early from Charms:

James is waiting outside the classroom door, arms crossed.

It’s suffocating.

Eventually, you stop trying.

You stop talking. You stop laughing. You become a ghost in your own life—going to classes, eating mechanically, staring through people when they speak to you.

You exist but that’s all.

You don’t even bother looking for Severus anymore.

Because when you catch the briefest glimpse of him—across the courtyard, by the greenhouses—you see it.

The wreckage.

He’s thinner, paler. He doesn’t eat. Doesn’t speak unless forced. Doesn’t meet anyone’s eye.

If he sees you in the hallway, he turns sharply and disappears down another corridor.

Like you’re poison now. Like loving you hurt too much to bear.

The castle feels wrong without him. Without you.

Without the part of yourself you gave him and can’t get back.

One evening, after a long, miserable dinner where James and Sirius chatter loudly about Quidditch like everything’s fine, you excuse yourself early.

You climb the stairs alone, footsteps hollow on the stone.

You reach the dormitory, shut the door softly behind you, and collapse onto your bed.

You lie there fully clothed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the laughter drift up from the common room below.

It doesn’t feel like your laughter anymore.

You don't even recognize the girl they think they’re protecting.

And miles away in the dark corridors of the castle, Severus Snape leans his forehead against the cold stone wall and wonders why letting go hurts worse than holding on ever did.

--

It’s another miserable evening in the common room.

You sit by the fire, pretending to read, staring at the same page for half an hour.

James and Sirius are across the room, laughing too loudly about something stupid, like the world hasn’t cracked open and swallowed you whole.

You don’t laugh. You barely breathe.

Remus watches you. He watches the way your shoulders sag lower every day. He watches the way your eyes stay dull, unseeing, unfocused. He watches the way you shrink smaller and smaller until you barely take up space at all.

And finally, he’s had enough.

He stands up abruptly crossing the room and sits down across from you.

When you glance up, startled, he says it—simple and quiet:

"Go to him. He is at the old Astronomy Tower."

You blink.

It takes a second to even register the words.

Behind him, James and Sirius whip their heads around like they’ve just heard a curse word.

"What?!" James explodes, half-rising from his seat.

"Have you lost your mind, Moony?" Sirius demands.

Remus doesn’t even turn. He keeps his gaze steady on you.

"You heard me," he says calmly. "Go to Severus. I saw him go there after dinner I am sure he is still there."

You open your mouth—whether to argue or cry, you don’t know—but James storms over before you can speak.

"Remus, you can't be serious!" James hisses. "After what he did—after what she almost did—"

"He didn’t force her," Remus cuts in sharply. Still quiet but deadly.

James flinches.

"You two," Remus says, voice low, "have been watching her like a bloody hawk. Controlling her. Smothering her. And look at her now."

He gestures to you.

You sit frozen, hands clutching the book in your lap so tightly your knuckles are white.

"She's not better off," Remus continues. "She's not happier. She's breaking apart. It's YOU she needs saving from and not Severus"

James' mouth opens.

"She is perishing in front of us. Obeying you and it's killing her." Remus says, louder now, anger crackling just under the surface. "And you call that protection? Her being heartbroken just so You can be happy?"

Sirius shifts uncomfortably, looking away.

James stares at you like he sees it for the first time—the hollowness in your eyes, the defeat carved into your face.

It hits him like a blow.

Remus stands, taller than you’ve ever seen him, voice steady and firm.

"You love him," he says to you. "And he loves you."

You shake your head, tears burning in your eyes. "It's to late...He left—"

"Because he thought it was what you needed," Remus says gently. "Because James made him believe it."

He steps closer.

"You deserve to be with the one you love, happy." he says, soft but fierce. "Not trapped in someone else's idea of who you should be."

He glances at James now, full of steel.

"Go. Be with him and if anyone tries to stop you again," he adds, voice dropping dangerously low, "they'll have to answer to me."

James stiffens. Sirius stares at the floor.

Remus turns back to you.

"Go," he says simply. "Don't waste another bloody second and don't ever let go again."

And for the first time in weeks—

You feel like you can breathe again.

You don’t say thank you. You don’t say goodbye. You just run—faster than you ever have—out into the night, chasing the only thing that’s ever made you feel whole.

The castle is dark and empty when you run. Corridors blur past you.

Your chest aches with every breath, shoes slap against the cold stone floor but you don’t stop. Not until you reach the place you need.

The old Astronomy Tower.

The one place where the world always felt just a little farther away.

You shove the heavy door open and spill onto the stairs.

Up and up, higher and higher, heart in your throat.

And there slumped against the far wall, knees drawn to his chest, head bowed—

Severus.

For a long moment, you just stand there.

Frozen.

He looks so small. So broken. So far from the boy who once argued with you over Potions essays and sneaked kisses behind dusty curtains.

You take a trembling step forward. He doesn't look up.

You whisper, "Severus?"

He flinches like you hit him.

"You shouldn’t be here," he says hoarsely, voice raw from disuse or crying—you can't tell.

You move closer anyway.

He finally lifts his head. His eyes are bloodshot. Haunted.

And full of so much guilt it nearly floors you.

"I left," he says brokenly. "I left so you could find better. You should Hate me."

You shake your head furiously, blinking away the tears blurring your vision.

"I could never hate you," you whisper.

He laughs then—a terrible, hollow sound.

"You should," he mutters. "Your brother was right. I’m—I'm nothing. I’m—"

"Stop," you say sharply, dropping to your knees in front of him.

He tries to look away. You grab his face between your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze.

"Don't you dare," you whisper fiercely. "Don't you dare let him make you believe that."

Tears spill down your cheeks, but you don’t let go.

"You are mine," you say, voice shaking with the force of it. "You are good and you are brilliant and you are everything to me."

His hands tremble as he grips your wrists.

"You deserve better," he chokes out.

"I don’t want better," you snap. "I want you."

Something crumbles in him then.

You feel it. The last wall cracking and falling apart between you.

He surges forward, crushing his mouth to yours—desperate, broken, real.

You kiss him back just as fiercely, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, closer, closer until there's no space left between you.

Tears mix with the kiss, but neither of you cares.

Not anymore.

You’re here. He’s here.

And that’s all that matters.

When you finally break apart, panting, foreheads pressed together, you whisper the only thing that matters:

"I love you."

You feel him shudder against you.

"I love you too," he whispers back, voice wrecked.

"And I’m not leaving," you promise. "Not ever again."

He pulls you into his arms then, holding you so tightly it nearly hurts.

You hold him just as tightly back.

Two broken pieces, fitting back together.

And for the first time in weeks—you feel whole again.

--

The grass is cool beneath you, the spring air sharp and fresh.

You sit cross-legged under one of the big oaks near the lake, a book open across your lap. Severus leans against the trunk beside you, close enough that his knee brushes yours with every shift.

He’s reading too—or pretending to.

Mostly, he keeps glancing at you from under his lashes, as if still half-convinced you might vanish if he looks away too long.

You lift your head and catch him staring.

"What?" you tease, cheeks warm.

He just shakes his head, smiling in that small, secret way only you ever get to see.

"Nothing," he says. "Everything."

You reach up and brush a strand of hair out of his face.

He leans into your touch without thinking, eyes fluttering shut.

You kiss his forehead—slow, lingering.

He wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you closer until you’re half in his lap, laughing breathlessly.

"You’re ridiculous," you murmur against his temple.

"You chose me," he reminds you, voice full of wonder.

"Always," you whisper.

For once, there’s no fear. No hiding. No need to look over your shoulder.

Just you and him.

And the sunlight weaving between you like a blessing.

You don’t even hear them at first. The crunch of footsteps across the grass. The shift in the air.

Severus stiffens beneath you.

You twist to look.

James. Sirius. Remus.

Walking back from the Quidditch pitch, laughing and loud—until they see you.

Then everything stops.

Severus’ body tenses even more under your hands. You feel the old fear rising in him—automatic, instinctual. He shifts, like he might pull away.

You don’t let him.

You tighten your grip around his waist, leaning in, pressing a kiss just under his jaw.

You stay.

You don’t hide. You hold him in the open and dare anyone to take him from you.

James' mouth tightens. Sirius’ jaw clenches.

Remus lingers back, watching, unreadable.

Severus doesn't move. Neither do you.

After a long beat, James looks away first.

He turns, stiff and silent, walking on without a word. Sirius follows, slower, frowning.

Only Remus pauses.

He meets your eyes across the space.

And he smiles. Soft. Certain. Proud.

He nods once—small but full of meaning—before jogging after the others.

Severus slumps slightly against you, breathing out shakily.

"They didn't—" he starts.

You kiss the corner of his mouth.

"They won't," you promise.

He threads his fingers through yours.

And together, you watch the lake sparkle in the late afternoon light.

Free.

Seen.

Loved.

At last.

[bangtanjjks]

Hi hello friends. You would not believe the effort I went into to get back into this account to post this rant. So today, I was mindlessly working and said, "Ah, it's kinda hard to look for non-mc lads fics on ao3"

AND THEN! My friend just go, "Babe, get a check on that internalized misogyny before it went out of control."

?!??!?????????

internalized WHAT?

Internalized misogyny?!?! Where did that come from? Then they explained to me that I like non-MC fics because I want to imagine myself with the love interests so I'm jealous of MC and saw her as my rival and enjoyed reading fics where the MC is villainized. Hence internalized misogyny.

When I tell you my whole face is just a big question mark. No?? Where did that come from? And then I look up online and it seems like my friends belief was common?

But mayhaps I'm just a freak? Maybe I'm just a wee little masochist who loves my fanfic served bone searingly cold and bitter with enough angst and pain to kill a Victorian era maiden via heartbreak?

And what better way to get a dose of that but from non-MC fics? The insanity of doing something (falling in love with the LIs) over and over again expecting a different outcome (them not falling in love with and choosing MC) until there's nothing left of you but an empty husk of a person who's been heartbroken one too many time. The tragedy of knowing how the story ends but hoping against all hope for you to be enough to change the course of fate only for it to happen as how it's been destined anyway ??? THOSE kind of exquisite angst can only be found in a non-MC fic y'know. Or maybe a fic from an LI's POV where MC ended up with another LI.

And even if the non-MC ended up with the LI, there's still potential for pain from the uncertainty, the questioning of how long will this last? Is this a forever thing or would fate step in and fix it as how the storyline should be? Chefs kiss.

So imagine my surprise when my own friend thought I like reading non-MC fics out of envy for MC ??? Bro that's my girl. I like reading fics about her being happy but I also like mentally damaging emotional pain in my fics y'know.

Besides, I distinctly remember reading a viral post about Caleb being a favorite LI because MC was his first, because the current main plotline was their first life together (this post was made in January before his myth), and so he chose her for her, not because of a memory of a long dead woman or any other destiny. He just chose MC (kinda wonder how that OP is feeling now after his myth was released lol). The point is, when it's an LI choosing MC without any prior ties or life with her it was seen as sweet AND YET when I want to read similar story just from another perspective it's internalized misogyny?!?!? Be so for real bro...

Anyways. I hope everyone's been having a good 2025 so far, stay safe and healthy friends (˶ > ₃ < ˶)♡

[wonislife17]

synopsis: Jungwon has an unexpected interaction and realizes something.

Here are the other chapters (the ones that come before): pt1, pt2, pt3.

pairing: reader x yang jungwon

WC: 823

A/N: Can you tell I listened to 'Brought the Heat Back' by Enhypen when I wrote this? I tried to keep it a little shorter this time. Let me know if you'd like a part 5. I got inspired after watching that Face Reading of Enhypen (I think it's Korean Fortune Telling?) with Enhypen pre-debut. I'm thinking about making a taglist for this as well. Thank you everyone for the love and support! Happy reading. :)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's been three weeks since Jungwon saw you. It doesn't bother him, or at least, that's what he tells himself, but every time he didn't see you, he felt a lingering cloud at the back of his mind.

He even sits a few rows back from the row he saw you sitting at, just to get a different view of the class in hopes that it would get him out of his slump. It just so happened to have a good view of the door, so on the off chance that you came late, he'd be able to see you perfectly.

But you'd never show.

If his friends had to ask him about his sullen mood, he'd simply say he's tired. After all, who would catch feelings for someone after they already turned them down?

'It doesn't help that this weather is absolute hell. Who would even want to come to campus with all this rain, or the harsh grey skies?' He muses, his focus slipping for the last 10 minutes of the lecture.

When the lecture ends, he packs his things quickly, and leaves.

The cold campus air smacks Jungwon's face, and he internally curses himself for not bringing his jersey as he takes out his umbrella. He heads to usual coffee spot on campus, desperate for a mocha.

His mind is halfway between what work he needs to do in preparation for his semester tests next week, and whether he should have ramen for supper (again), when he sees his friend, Heeseung come out from his own lecture, Heeseung's crush, some other guy and... her. She's laughing at something the guy said, face brightening, lips smiling. Heeseung spots him and waves, beckoning him over.

"Jungwon. How're you doing?" Heeseung grins, clearly happy he's getting to spend time with his crush. "This is that friend in my lecture I was talking about...." He gestures to the girl he likes, but that isn't what captures Jungwon's attention.

You're still chatting with Jay, the two of you in your own world. It stands out to him more than it should. Your relaxed posture. Your cheery smile. Even the way you're talking. 'She's so... calm around him.' He thinks to himself, quickly comparing your and his interaction to what he sees in front of him.

Jungwon quickly shakes it off, and greets the friend, introducing himself to her. She greets back politely, then turns to look at you, who's still chatting with Jay.

"Erm... earth to Jay and (Y/N)? Aren't you two going to be polite?"

Jay looks at Jungwon and politely introduces himself, and you look at him, apprehensive.

"We already know each other." You say casually.

Your friend looks surprised, and Heeseung remarks about how it's a "small world".

It takes everything in Jungwons mind to not blurt the question that's burning the neurons in his brain about why you haven't been going to those lectures, until Jay offhandedly remarks about how it's nicer to see you in his Wednesday lectures instead of trying to tire yourself out with those god-awful early 08:30 ones.

Like something slotting into place, he realized that he was, in fact, disappointed that he wasn't seeing you in lectures. He looked at Jay and you, who are already back to chatting. The rain finally settles into cloudy skies.

Heeseung looks at Jungwon, slightly confused about his more serious demeanor, but brushes it off. "Uhh... we're going to sit somewhere and eat lunch... you wanna join us?" Heeseungs calm, but excited voice snaps Jungwon out of his reverie, and he nods half-heartedly.

"Sure, hyung. I was going to get myself a coffee anyway."

The group makes its way to the cafeteria, with Heeseung and his crush sharing an umbrella, and you and Jay each having your own.

Jungwon looks at you and Jay, chatting away, and notices things he didn't see before. Why would he? He's always about achieving goals, and learning, and improving oneself. He didn't give himself the time for simple, silly things like this. But he couldn't stop himself from noticing certain things. The sway of your hair as you walk, your bright eyes as you're talking about something you're passionate about. It's almost like masterpiece coming to form, showcasing your attributes.

The sun makes its first welcomed appearance for the day, and everyone lowers their umbrellas.

"Finally." Says Heeseungs crush, and everyone chuckles.

Jungwon looks to you, and what he sees makes his heart flutter. Your skin looks honeyed by the soft morning sunlight. It's ironic, considering you were laughing at something Jay said like a madman, but seeing you in such a state of joy, Jungwon realized he can't fool himself into thinking that he's only noticing you purely because he caught you staring at him.

But it looks like you've already moved on, chatting to Jay like your confrontation with Jungwon didn't happen.

'Dammit. This was not in my plan.' ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

pairing: reader x yang jungwon, yang jungwon x reader.

[carpediemma]

DBDA Anniversary

Ahh! I've been on a plane for 6 hours and generally busy all day, but it's still anniversary day here so I still have time to write a little tribute post 💜

Dead Boy Detectives came at a really opportune time of my life last year. I was--and am quite frankly--recovering from wounds and generally trying to keep my head above water like everyone else. Now, I've been obsessed with media before, but something about this show and story really resonated with me in a different way than shows before it.

I've always been more of a lurker online. In a way antithetical to how most people behave on the internet, I am significantly more reserved and shy on social media platforms. But DBDA made me want to talk and interact more online...

I joined (and talked?!) in fandom discords and have made some quite lovely friends (shout out to the DBDA Haunt discord ;) ). I was giggling to myself the other week that I actually had online friends for the first time in my life (and I have been on the internet for.... a while).

The show also inspired me to write and post it online again. I had written fanfiction in my preteen years, but after posting some Supernatural Destiel thing in my youth and getting utterly ripped apart in the comments of it, I never really wanted to try again. Never was inspired to attempt it on any show or fandom I was in. I never really could see myself being able to write as other characters.

But once again... DBDA changed that. About a year ago I posted on here about ideas of stories I wanted to read in the fandom; content for the most part to just throw my plot bunnies into the ether to get them out of my brain. But then I started to write dialogue in my head and it felt... authentic. It felt fun :) And I wrote.... and wrote... and wrote... and, hell, I'm still writing! And it's really been a joy to rediscover some of that love.

So thank you Dead Boy Detectives and the community it inspired. While I still want to hold some sort of hope in my heart for a revival, it has made a great impact regardless.

I also want to thank anyone who has read, commented, kudos, or otherwise interacted in any way with my posts or stories.

Above all, I want to thank everyone who has opened me into their hearts and hopefully can call me a friend as I do you (and hopefully can for years to come!).

<3 Emma

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

2 Times articles you might be interested in, RTA. 1) "What will change when William is king? By royal insiders" by Kate Mansey. 2) "BBC faces fresh scrutiny over Diana interview scandal in new book" by David Brown. Sorry RTA, I don't know how to archive it in the way you prefer but I enjoyed reading those 2 articles nevertheless!

Archived Link. Some quotes:

“It’s this reinvention,” says Jason Knauf, a former aide who is now CEO of the Earthshot prize. “How do you communicate to the generation that you serve? And it has to be different. It’s not change for change’s sake, but a question of how you’re going to cut through in a world where people are consuming things much more in terms of images than anything else.” William’s staff talk about “impact” and “scale” when describing his work. But what do these buzzwords mean to Prince William? And, perhaps most important of all, what sort of king does he intend to be when the time comes?

(Very important point by Knauf here, IMO - monarchy needs to adapt to modern times, which means serving modern generations, not historical tradition. There's a time and place for historic traditions, many of which I do hope William keeps, but the monarchy cannot succeed if it lives exclusively in history. It has to be present.)

“He’s not one for long meetings or going around the same thing again,” he says. “I’ve often heard him say, ‘There’s been too much talk about that. We need to see some action.’ He is friendly to deal with and personable. [But] you really wouldn’t want to go and tell him, ‘We’ve got absolutely nowhere in stopping elephant ivory being sold.’ He wants to know that you’re getting results.”

Kate has always seen her role as a supporting one. She is understood to have been inspired by the late Duke of Edinburgh, who made an individual contribution while being very clear that his role was to support the monarch. For Kate, that means acting as a gatekeeper to ensure that William can do his work while also finding time to be a hands-on father, and that everyone understands that this is the deal. It’s “the long game”. She is said to be allergic to any PR gimmicks — and there have been several — that have been suggested to her over the years. When the princess spoke on camera from a bench in Windsor about her diagnosis last March, it was her idea. Ditto when she released that video after completing chemotherapy...She’s hugely influential behind the scenes in hiring and decision-making and they approach it as a team. Like the late Queen and Prince Philip, and the King and Queen, they’re a good double act.”

Like William discussing Aston Villa, there will be tactics at play and sometimes the job will be done wearing trainers. William has said that he wants to carry out his role “with a smaller ‘r’ in the royal”, a clear signpost to the way he and Kate will use subtle but significant means to modernise the institution. But traditionalists should fear not, says Knauf. “They’re pretty conservative about this stuff,” he says. “Compared with some of the advice that they’ve been given [and dismissed] over the years, it’s still pretty royal.”

Archived Link. Some quotes:

Andy Webb, who uncovered Bashir’s deceit, forced the BBC to release 10,000 pages of documents relating to the original scandal and the attempts to keep it secret. His book, Dianarama — Deception, Entrapment, Cover-up: The Betrayal of Princess Diana, will be published in November, on the 30th anniversary of the Panorama interview. It is said to contain “material never seen before”, obtained from the BBC’s archives after a lengthy legal battle under freedom of information laws.

Webb said: “This is a story I have been investigating for over 30 years. The TV documentary I made in 2020 brought the scandal into the public eye and it helped answer many questions Diana’s family had struggled to find answers for. “What really happened to Diana is something historians will pore over for centuries to come. My findings are a true first draft of history.”

How to archive with the Internet Archive / Wayback Machine

(I prefer the Internet Archive/archive.org over archive.today because archive.today is blocked by a lot of firewalls and security apps. I can only access archive.today links on my phone and there are other anons who also can't access those links. But if you like archive.today, that's great but I won't post your links unless I can also get an Internet Archive link too for those of us who can't access it.)

[bobur-the-berry-guy]

hi!!!! headcanons for mogari was good, it's so yummy ty <33 do you have any thoughts about confession headcanons for main four + ichimiya (if you don't mind ofc!!)? ty anyway! :3

•OHMYGOD IF I TELL U I WAS ALREADY MAKING IT IN THE DRAFTS WHEN U ASKED AHHHH I LOVE REQUESTS

ᕙ⁠(͡⁠°⁠‿⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)⁠ᕗAlso I'm playing around w the formatting do we fw it

Anyway we're on the same wavelength anon, i hope you and whoever is reading enjoys these 😼

Phantom busters confessions!

•Ft. Mogari, Eugene, Kaoru, Tamon, Ichimiya

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆.˚✮•🌺•✮˚.⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Moragi

ᯓ★୭˚ Poor dude just got out of his prison of a household and went head first in the real world with zero actual experience, how do you think he'd deal with a crush?!

ᯓ★୭˚ In all honesty, it would take him a while to realize. He would just think you're a great friend and-- wait, what do you mean it isn't normal for your friends to give you heart palpitations or for your throat to dry up when they give you a hug.. sure, none of his other friends make him feel like that but that doesn't mean there's anything too different about you, right?

ᯓ★୭˚ Yeah, he'd take his time. Let him be. He's still figuring it out. Most likely someone from the phantom busters club would point it out to him to try and make fun of him but Mogari is surprisingly chill with it. Yeah, he has a crush, so what?

ᯓ★୭˚ Truth be told, you could probably catch on it but then again Moragi is.. Moragi. You can't tell uf he's into you or he's being his weird self.

ᯓ★୭˚ They can try to tease him all they want, but he doesn't feel shame. What he feels is mild confusion - how is he supposed to go about this? What do people do when they have their crush figured out? How do they tell their crush likes them back? There are specific ways to confess?? What???

ᯓ★୭˚ He's coached by his friends on how to do it - all in vastly different ways. Eugene is the most practical but.. Moragi doesn't think he absolutely has to have it all planned out and everything, right? Tamon is a great listener, but he has.. zero experience. He has seen what other people have done and tell so, but then again that's just hwat he's seen. And Kaoru gives full romance manga scenarios. The rain and only one umbrella, the sick episode, confession under a cherry tree - the woks. And Moragi, bless his soul, takes everything all they say to heart. And he thinks he's got it all figured out - practical, romantic, what he thinks would be a good confession in your eyes and most importantly tweaked with his own things to feel more him, you know?

ᯓ★୭˚ He's got this! He's hyped, he's the man, he's the boss— and it goes all but the way he planned. But really, what else do we expect?

──★°`🌙.*♪!! Moragi's got it all planned. He's not sure why exactly he needs the plan, but his friends said it would make you happy so who is he to not believe them?

This whole day you've been together. Originally it should've been the whole friend group hanging out, but everyone other than Moragi mysteriously bailed so it was just the two of you.

It was definitely not a boring day. Its just that everything he planned pretty much got obliterated in front of his eyes. He slipped and fell in the cute little cafe and got his drink all over him, which you had to help him wash out after. He got confused on the directions and had you both lost for a good half an hour. Went to the arcade to show off only to have you eat him with thr rags at the games there. What else could go wrong?!

At least you seem to be having fun.

Right now you're at the beach - just sitting, staring at the waves and chatting away. This whole day you've been walking around and going places and he hopes he's doing it right. It feel so foreign to him - since when does he feel nervous??

According to what the boys helped him plan, he should confess when he's walking you home. The smartest move, they said. But how should he do it?? What exactly should he say? What—

"hey, Moragi.."

Suddenly your voice takes him out of his deep thought. You're staring back at him quietly as if you're trying to gauge something.. Were you saying something important before that?

"... You've been so weird the whole day. You can tell me what's up, you know?"

He's staring at you stupidly. His mouth acts before his thoughts do.

"I like you. Like, like like you."

Silence.

"For a while now. I can't stop thinking about you. It's like you're just.. always there. The boys helped me make a plan up on.. y'know, how to tell you. That's why i took you so many places today. Maybe that's why I'm acting like a dumbass too. I was supposed to tell you that while walking you home but... yeah...."

More silence.

He's staring at your bewildered face, trying to read your what's happening in your head. Did he fuck up? Did he do something wrong?? Why are you just staring—

"Pffff.. you made a whole plan??"

That silence is filled with laughter now. Your laughter. You're cackling as if this is the funniest thing to ever happen to you. Trying to compose yourself and catch your breath, you speak trough the laughing fit.

"You know, Moragi.. you could've just, i don't know, told me? Without this whole thing?? I like you back anyway. Still thanks though. It's cute to see you put so much effort into it."

Despite the fact he's trying to play it cool or as cool as he can anyway, you can see he's clenching his fist in victory. What a dork.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Eugene

ᯓ★୭˚ May the gods be with his because they know he needs it.

ᯓ★୭˚ You've captured his heart and he only catches on after it's already too late to rationalize his brain out of being horribly down bad. He won't deny havign a crush on you but it makes his brain turn into a pudding and his thought process derails.

ᯓ★୭˚ His realization would be gradual - first he'd see you as intriguing, then you're a dear friend.. and suddenly he's having real funny thoughts. He could write off the way your eyes reflect the sunlight like a suncatcher as just an observation or the sudden image of him kissing you like you're the air he breathes as an impulse thought.. but really, how long would it take until he seen that these thoughts aren't just a one-off thing? That's when he knows he's got it real bad.

ᯓ★୭˚ He'd wait. He's paying attention and making sure you probably like him back before he does anything. After all, why would he do something if he isn't sure there's at least some chance it would be worth it? So he waits ans observes how you act, what you do and what you do and don't tell him. And once he believes you could like him back he's cooking up a plan.

ᯓ★୭˚ He might drop some hints he could be into you, but he'd let the game of plausible deniability do it's work.

ᯓ★୭˚ He wants to do it face to face. If he wants it to work he needs to have the balls to do it. Still he keeps most of it simple - he doesn't want you to catch on. Maybe. I mean, it wouldn't be too bad for you to have an inkling of something about to happen between you two, but he plans on keeping it under covers. He'd invite you to hang out and go to the cafe you both always visit, treat you a drink and something to eat, and when you leave the cafe and sit on a good spot outside he's telling you everything clear and simple.

──★°`🌙.*♪!! The cafe's chill atmosphere makes it seem like time has stopped despite the clock ticking quietly in the corner. You've been in there for the whole afternoon at that point but it still feels like you haven't been sitting for more than an hour.

And still with so much time passed there haven't been even a few minutes that minutes that aren't filled with the still ongoing conversation between you and Eugene. Topic after topic braided together, not following a particular pattern but the trains of thought going one after another.

Right now you're chatting away about a long since passed situation. Despite him already knowing the whole thing by heart, he still listens and responds. And he'd do it all over again too, if it means seeing you so up close and hearing your voice.

The only thing that stops you from going further with your talk is the lovesick look he's giving you from the other side of the table. His head is leaning on his hand for support, cheek squished against his palm and a stray gingers strand of hair falling across his forehead for his otherwise neat hairstyle. There's a content little smile across his face, his cheeks flushed with a soft peachy color. His eyes reflect the setting sun, shattering the light across them with the most gentle spark in them. Just for you.

He knows it's the moment to speak his truth, given you've finally noticed the way he's staring and the little window of silence giving him the perfect opportunity to do so.

"Hey, can i tell you something?"

You nod, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly.

"I, ah.. lately I've noticed, uh.."

Really? Right now he'll trip over his words??

Clearing his troath, he continues, his evergrowing blush becoming more and more apparent.

"I.. I love being around you. Just seeing you makes me happy. I look forward to being with you and— i just really enjoy spending time with you, and you've become someone very special to me..

I hope you feel the same way towards me too."

He's struggling to even look at you, the sudden nervousness getting the better of him. The silence on your end only makes him more nervous too.

Suddenly he feels you hands around his, just as jittery and sweaty. You're nodding vigorously when he finally looks at you and he breathes a sigh of relief, exhaling the tension.

Thank god. He wouldn't know what he'd do if you didn't like him back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Kaoru

ᯓ★୭˚ The second he realizes he's gripping his shirt over the spot his heart is and kneeling on the ground as if he's gonna have a heart attack.

ᯓ★୭˚ He'd be so oblivious to his own feelings, given he's used to burying everything down until it volcanoes back up. So when he finally realizes, he's exploding internally. And right back into denial. He's gonna be in a limbo between being sure he likes you and denying it vehemently for a bit before finally accepting it.

ᯓ★୭˚ Not gonna lie, he's gonna be so obvious. I'd assume you're his friend already so you know the way he is - he's acting all done and sassy but it's sp clear he cares and goes out of his way to do things for you and the rest of his friends. And suddenly, he's getting all red when you're close. He's huffing and puffing when you ask someone for a favour and acts all smug when he does it before them. He watches your favourite anime and lends you your favourite manga since he just so happens to have it - but he hadn't heard of it before you introduced him to it??

ᯓ★୭˚ And, let's be real, he'd so try to have a good old school shoujo anime confession. And he plans everything out - he has picked a good cherry tree near the school, he knows what time the sun hits best, he already has the anonymous love letter asking you to meet him there.. and he chickens out of it every morning. It takes him a while until he actually goes trough with it. Waiting for the best time, he says... Oh, and the club helps him out too. Good luck.

──★°`🌙.*♪!! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He really did it.

After all this time, he finally got the balls to go trough with his plan. He wrote the letter and rewrote it for good measure, packaged it well and pretty and slid it in your locker. And the reality of the situation dawned on his just as he slipped it in. No turning back now.

All that's left is.. the whole day before school ends.

And he spends that day acting weird and finding every possible reason to avoid you as the cool-headed genius he is. He's too busy to sweat over it to pay attention to anything and anyone else anyway.

How could he face you now when he knows he has to confess to you later today?!

And sadly for him and much for the joy of everyone else, the end of the day comes much sooner than he would've liked.

Right now, he's stading stiff under the cherry tree he picked out. While waiting for you he's going over what he could possibly say when you finally arrive. The words seem to run away from him - no matter how much he's imagined and trained in the mirror, the real deal is completely different. What should he say? Where to start? What if you react badly? What exactly should—

"Oh my god, Kaoru??"

Fuck. You're here.

He turns around, still doing his best to seem cool despite the burning red color his cheeks have taken.

"Hey, uh, you're probably wondering why i called you here. Fuck— no?? I mean, obviously, you know why but— just— just let me speak, ok?

After a few seconds of silence he continues.

"I like you. I like you a lot. I've liked you for a while now. Please, go out with me.. please."

After he spent all day thinking over what to say so he can give you the most heartfelt genuine confession, all that came out of his mouth is this. Just end him now.. please.

"You're too cute, Kaoru, you know that?"

Peeling his eyes from the ground, he looks up to see you smiling brightly at him, as if his confession made your whole day.

"Of course I'll go out with you. I like you, you know? I thought it was obvious."

He's speechless. Voice left, thoughts ran away, brain short-circuited. Still, he couldn't be more grateful for the outcome.

It wasn't the cool and emotional shoujo-esque romantic confession he wanted it to be, but if you're happy with it he wouldn't have it any other way.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Tamon

ᯓ★୭˚ You know that meme with the dog?

Yup, that's him. Shhh, he just realized how down bad he is, let him process it.

ᯓ★୭˚ Another case of horrid obliviousness to his own emotions. With him, though, i think he does have a few moments where the light bulb flickers before it turns on so bright it burns his eyes. He can feel his heart flutter around you and suddenly he's sweating more than usual and he wants to hold your hand and he feels like the only person on the planet when you tell him he's dependable.. and sure, he has a few moments of thinking "they're awesome, i don't know how i even found them" and "they'd make a great boyfriend/girlfriend" and such... but when he actually, like actually, realizes he's into you? It all makes sense. He can't tell if he wants to bang his head into the wall or run to you and spill everything, but at least he has an explanation for the thoughts he's been having.

ᯓ★୭˚ I feel like you won't really notice a big difference with him even when he realizes his feelings. Not most of the time anyway. He's the same dependable and considerate Tamon you've always known - he's just gonna go out of his way to be around you a bit more. He'd walk you from home to school and from school to home even if he lives in the opposite direction, he's hanging out with you whenever he can, he just wants to be there. And every now and then he's weirdly red or suddenly flustered.. and don't tell him if you do, but you might catch him staring at you. Just observing, looking at you like you pull the sun into the sky every morning and hang the stars in the sky every night. Let him be.

ᯓ★୭˚ He doesn't plan on confessing. Ever. He'd rather die than possibly risk the great friendship between you so far. You're just too good for him to do anything stupid, you know? And then he spill the beans on accident. He will remember the embarrassment and terror he felt in the few seconds of silence for life.

──★°`🌙.*♪!! It's the dead of night, a calm atmosphere taken over the quiet hours. The sky is clear and the moon gleams bright across the sky, the stars making way for it across the midnight blue sky. It's so silent the only thing other than the gentle wind you'll hear are the squeaks of the bats and the occasional birds cooing softly. That, and the hushed whispers of you and Tamon on the phone.

You've been on the phone with him for hours. You won't stay up late tonight, you said. Just for a bit, you said. And there you are, still trying to keep your giggles quiet and voice down.

By now you've played countless games and talked about anything and everything that comes to mind, the late time bringing out the honesty in both of you. Right now you're laying comfortably on your bed, a cool gust of wind swishing from your window into your room, bringing a soft fresh scent along with it.

"— oh my god, do you know what i heard recently? This guy from the other class might have a crush on you!"

How it got to that topic, neither you not he knows.

"Shut up, Tamon. Are you for real?"

"I said i heard about it, can't promise you it's the truth. He really seems like it, though. It's not like i can't blame him anyway."

.. huh?

"Dude, what? What do you mean??"

"I mean, like, i can't blame him for liking you. I can see why."

"Sure thing, Casanova."

"No, I mean it. Genuinely. You're probably one of the kindest people on earth. Sure, you're kind of a dick sometimes, but i don't think I've ever met someone as genuinely kind and considerate. And you're so talented too. And you're passionate. You've seen what you can do when you put work into things. Also it's so easy to talk to you. I can talk to you for the whole day and the whole night and not even notice. And i can look at you without my stomach churning too. Sure, the fact that you're gorgeous helps, but my point stands. I can't blame him for liking you. Its not like I'm any better anyway."

Oh my god.

He did not just fucking spill that.

"Say it to my face then."

Why is everyone saying things without thinking??

Silence.

Peep. He closed the call.

Fuck.

He's not responding. He's not picking up your calls. He's not texting back either. Hell, he's not even looking at them.

Did you scare him away? Does he hate you now?

No matter what questions swirl in your mind, you can't have the answers when he's not responding. In the end, it seems better to leave it for the morning rather than stress over it right now.

Turning and tossing around over your soft covers, exhaustion seems to finally lead you into sleep after sweating and shedding a few panicked tears over your current situation.

Exhaling quietly, burning anxiety makes way for the quiet rest you desperately need, after 15 minutes of panic.

Thunk.

Or maybe not.

Ponk. Tink.

What the hell? Are those— are those pebbles?? What's throwing fucking pebbles into your room at this hour?!

"Pssst. Hey! Hey!"

You stick your head out of your window so fast you almost fall over from the sheer force of the movement.

And there he is - Tamon. He's breathing hard, burning red and sweaty, still in pajamas, his bike tossed to the side. His voice is a hushed yell, but you still hear him.

Darting out your bedroom door, you practically fly down the stairs to open the door and face him directly.

Now actually face to face with him, all and any words vanish from your mind, leaving you to stare at him stupidly.

"I meant it."

He seems panicked, but it's clear he's genuine. Up close, the redness of his face is even more obvious, along with the sheen of sweat across his forehead. He must've really gone fast on the bike if he's that out of breath.

"I really meant it. Please don't stop talking with me."

"Tamon, you idiot! You gave me a heart attack! I like you back, you—"

Tamon learnt two things that night. First thing is, he should think not twice but three times before talking after midnight. Second thing - he should've told you he likes you a long time ago. He couldn't be happier anyway.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Ichimiya

ᯓ★୭˚ My king in DENIAL.

ᯓ★୭˚ He'd rather go and tell everyone he's into that ghost geek shit before he confesses his love for you. And believe me, he's got it BAD. He knows just how bad it it. He's fully aware of how much space you take up in his mind and how much you fill his heart. Every smile, every look, every conversation, every simple act of kindness makes his heart soar. Everything about you makes him jolt in his seat like he's been electrocuted and melt like a sugar cube simultaneously. And the fact he's always a shade of pinkish red around you doesn't help either.

ᯓ★୭˚ Everyone around him knows. The student council is well aware that he wants you, despite the fact he vehemently denies it. Thing is, they don't know if you know it too. And they don't wanna meddle. If you know it and they bring it up could make everything weird, and if you don't know they could still mess it all up. Also, they'd have to deal with the wrath of their enraged student council president - and who is crazy enough to deal with that?

ᯓ★୭˚ Ichimiya likes to think the confession would be heartfelt and very well planned. He imagines something special just for you, with him going out of his way to do a truly memorable thing. He falls asleep to his own far-fetched dreams of being with you, and they always start with a cheesy confession. In reality, it's nothing like that for two reasons. He'd confess impulsively if something pushes him to that point - to act before thinking. Also he wouldn't have the balls to go through with his original plans anyway. Maybe it's better something's pushed him enough..

──★°`🌙.*♪!! This whole day has been like Ichimiya's personal purgatory reincarnated.

First, turns out some documents that should've been handled by the student council got messed up, meaning he'd have to fix everything personally. After that he was given a surprise test, and he didn't have enough time to finish the last -and most important - question. After that the fanboys his friends from the council decided it would be a good idea to try to make plans for the weekend, which he absolutely did not want to attend to. And then they decided to bring you up. You, and how close you seem to some nobody from the other class.

Thats when everything soured even further.

What do they mean you're that close with someone he hasn't even heard of? Wasn't he your closest friend? What does that random have that he doesn't? Are you tired of him? Do you like that guy better than Ichimiya?

All these thoughts spiral down in his head, internally making him panic and sweat over a thing he hasn't even seen personally. Outside, though, it seems like he's trying to poison the rest of the council just trough a venomous, burning stare - their cue to shut up.

And from then his whole mood for the rest of the week is spoiled. And for the next one too.

By now, he's been weird with you for about two weeks. He'd avoid you like the plague and ignore you until you just decide to leave, and then cling to you like you're the only person on earth for a bit before returning to his previous treatment.

In the beginning it seemed like it was just something stressing him out about the council, but it's gone on for too long to really believe that assumption.

Finally having had enough when he bailed on you on lunch without a word, you storm into the student council room to find him.

And there is he - sitting to the side, Sunao and Yoshiki animatedly talking about something before abruptly going silent when you enter the room.

Giving a scorching look to Ichimiya, internally he feels like crying despite returning the mean look. You turn around to look at the two other boys, asking them to excuse themselves and leave you alone with Ichimiya for a bit.

Normally they would've said something, but the tension is too thick for them to even try to protest, so they leave quietly.

Ichimiya can feel his features twitch worriedly, mouth pressed into anxious thin line, biting the inside of his mouth. He can feel his intimidating mask slip by habit, the distress seeping trough his cold expression.

"Ichimiya, what the fuck is up with you?!"

Man, he fucked up.

"You've been so weird for two weeks. Two weeks! You bail on me, ignore me, send me away and basically run away at just the sight of me, but then you come around and you're so clingly, and then you start avoiding me again! What is your problem?!"

He really fucked up.

And despite that, he can't bring himself to be honest with you. The anxiety and the impulse to still try and uphold his image gets the better of him.

"It's nothing. You can hang around someone else anyway. Don't you have that other friend to go bother?"

"I don't want to hang around someone else, i want to hang around you. What does he have to do with that anyway?"

".. forget it."

A tense silence creeps up after that, but it's short-lived.

"... please, Ichimiya. Just talk to me. Please."

He doesn't dare to look at you, just the quiet pain and desperation are enough to erode his mask almost completely. The guilt of not telling you the truth us eating him alive, but he just can't get the words out.

"Listen, i.. just— i can't say it. Please don't make me say it."

You continue to stare silently in disbelief at him, trying to gauge exactly what he refuses to say. His expression is a scorned pout, him biting the inside of his cheeks and looking down.. in shame? He looks... embarrassed. And guilty, and awkward.

What does he have to be embarrassed about anyway? High and mighty intimidating school council president, looking shamefully at the ground after acoiding you and all but blaming some other student for that. What could even that guy have to do with—

Oh.

Oh.

A spark flashes across your face, a small grin of amusement at the absurd situation breaking out.

"Oh my god, are you—"

"Don't say it.. please, don't."

"You're jealous!"

Now he's looking at the ground not in guilt but in absolute burning embarrassment. His arms are clasped in front of his chest, but he keeps quiet.

"Why are you so jealous anyway? What's the big deal about this guy—"

Nevermind. His head shoots up and he's staring directly at you in disbelief, mouth slightly agape in shock at the question.

"Are you serious? Is it not obvious enough?! I like you, damn it! How can you not notice that??"

Another moment if silence comes upon the room, but this time he isn't really sure if he messed up or did the right thing.

"... Really? You like me, for real??"

The hope in your voice tell him he did the right thing, thank god.

And despite that, he'll never live down the shame of having his confession brought upon by petty jealousy and pouting. He doesn't regret it though, not if that means he finally has you.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆.˚✮•🌺•✮˚.⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

it's kinda obvious who my favourites are ngl,,

ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ as always, request are open n welcome!

[c-e-d-dreamer]

'Tis The Damn Season — Part Four

A/N: it's lover day of @nestaarcheronweek and what better way to celebrate than with the penultimate chapter of this fic! I hope everyone enjoys, and this is your warning: smut ahead 😉

Read on AO3 // Previous Part // Next Part

Cassian throws his arm forward, his knuckles colliding with leather. The bag in front of him sways slightly with the force of the blow, but it’s not enough. He throws a punch again and again and again. Until he can feel every hit reverberate up his arm. Until he can feel the familiar burn in his muscles. Until it feels like his knuckles are going to split even through the wrappings around them.

It had been stupid.

It had been stupid to invite Nesta into his bed the other night. He should have known better. He should have known that despite his words and promises of it being totally platonic, he’d wake up wrapped around Nesta like he needed her to breathe. He's been pulled into her gravity since the moment he met her. Since she and her friends walked into one of his classes at his gym. Since she rolled those pretty blue eyes at his cheeky jokes to get the class started. He’s been chasing that eye roll, chasing her smile and laugh, chasing her orbit ever since.

So was it really that surprising that when the sun had crept across the floorboards of the bedroom, Cassian’s arms were curled securely around Nesta’s waist, his nose buried in the golden brown strands of her hair, his heart beating in time with hers where his chest was pressed along her spine?

Stupid.

It had been even more stupid to invite Nesta back into his bed last night even after how they woke up that morning, after they dared to dance so close to that line but still never cross it while playing cards. It had been stupid to play that silly little game of truth or dare, to think it was a good idea to answer and ask so honestly. To think it was a good idea to lay his heart so bare, still bloodied and bruised and yet so wholly hers.

He works his fists harder and faster against the punching bag in front of him, the smack of leather echoing around him, thumping in time to the cracked heart beating in his chest, to the blood rushing in his ears. Over and over again, he punches. Stupid stupid stupid.

“Well, this is just sad to watch.”

Cassian huffs, not even bothering to stop his assault despite the familiar, drawling voice. “Fuck off.”

Rhys chuckles softly, stepping enough around the punching bag that he comes fully into view. He has a pair of silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of them. His dark hair is sleep mussed and sleep still clings to the corners of his violet eyes even as he watches Cassian take a few more reps against the punching bag.

“I know you own a gym,” Rhys comments, raising an eyebrow. “But 6am workouts on vacation might be a new low even for you.”

“I just need to move my body,” Cassian argues with a shrug, resetting his stance.

Rhys catches the punching bag to stop it from swinging, his eyes sweeping over Cassian’s frame. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“It’s not my fault the pull-out is so lumpy.”

“You have a proper bed.” At Cassian’s answering silence, Rhys sighs. “Don't tell me you can't even be across the hall from her so you switched with Az.”

Cassian huffs, turning away from the punching bag and his brother completely, tugging at the wrappings around his hands. What is he meant to say? How can he answer that? How can he possibly explain to Rhys everything that’s transpired over the past two nights?

“Honestly, Cass, it’s been a year now,” Rhys continues, something that Cassian is sure is meant to be sympathy coloring his voice. “I know it’s hard seeing her again, but don’t you think it’s time to finally move on?”

“You don’t get it,” Cassian grumbles, throwing his hand wrappings in the bin with more force than he probably needs to.

“Clearly. This is Nesta we’re talking about.”

Cassian growls, whirling back around on his brother. “Did you want to sub your face in for the punching bag?”

Rhys holds his hands up in surrender, taking a pointed step away from the punching bag. “Feyre will be upset if you bruise my pretty face again. It is her birthday after all.”

“You deserved it last year.”

“I never said I didn’t.” Rhys sighs again, letting his hands drop back down to his sides. “Look. I’m sorry. I don’t want to have this fight with you again.”

Cassian sighs as well, moving to where he left his water, taking a deep gulp of it. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe, tries to center himself, but this whole weekend has simply been a mess. No point making things worse by rehashing old arguments with Rhys.

He can still remember the sneering comments made after that fateful night, after all the truths were revealed and Nesta had left. He can still remember the rage that had boiled through his veins, the feeling that thrummed to life and writhed in his chest, the demand to defend and to avenge. He can still remember the distinct crunch as his knuckles met Rhys’ face, the black eye his brother sported for weeks.

“I think I’m going to head out, after gifts,” Cassian finally says, turning to face Rhys fully again.

“Come on, Cass. Don’t be like this. There’s more snow blowing in this afternoon. You really want to be driving the mountain roads in that? One more night isn’t going to kill you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s already killing me,” Cassian tells him, pushing a hand up and through his hair roughly at the crack he can hear in his own voice, at the emotions he can feel clawing up the back of his throat and stinging behind his eyes. “I can't… I'm never going to love anyone else the way I love her. She's always going to be it for me. Always going to be the best damned thing that ever happened to me, and I was an idiot and blew it. And now, I have to be here, get to have her so close, but… but she's still not mine.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta slides her fingers across the paper, across the penguins on skis there, before she carefully pulls it apart, revealing a spiral journal wrapped inside. She pulls it out completely, flipping through the different pages.

"It's a reading journal," Feyre explains, watching Nesta with bright eyes. "When I saw it, I knew it would be perfect for you. And I included a bookstore gift card in there for you too."

"Thanks, Feyre. This is perfect."

Feyre smiles at the response, turning her attention to her own gift in her lap. She tugs free the tissue paper and tosses it aside with abandon, the birthday pom-pom antlers adorned on her head shaking with the movement. She pulls out a crew-neck sweatshirt of some kind, and when she unfolds it properly, she laughs loudly at what she finds.

"Cassian, I cannot believe you!"

Feyre turns her gift around so everyone can see, and Nesta snorts softly at the embroidered words in the fabric: Painter? I hardly know her!

"Only the best for you, Fey," Cassian offers, pressing a smacking kiss to Feyre's cheek as he walks past her to hand another gift to Azriel.

Nesta can't help but track him across the room. She feels like she's been doing it all morning. Their conversation from yesterday, their silly little game of truth or dare, it all still weighs heavy on her mind, still weighs heavy on her chest, like a pressure expanding between her ribs and digging into her lungs. She barely slept after Cassian all but fled the room. Every time she closed her eyes, it was his face haunting her dreams, those hazel eyes clouded with emotions and marred with cracks of pain.

She'd considered, briefly, chasing after him, considered running through the hallway and begging him to stop. But she had no idea what she would possibly say to him if she did. She'd even dared to imagine a scenario where Cassian came bursting back into the room, where he made some grand declaration and the two of them really went back to how things were before, just like a scene out of one of her favorite romance novels.

But she'd long learned that was merely a fantasy, that reality was nothing like the stories weaved between ink on pages.

And besides, it's not like she's even had a moment to speak with Cassian, or even get him alone, since last night, between the boisterous spread of breakfast to now opening gifts. The only thing Nesta has truly been left alone with is her own swirling thoughts, with the words that sit heavy on her tongue. In fact, all she really has to show for the previous night, for the whole weekend really, is the crystallized claws wrapped tight around her heart and opening old wounds until they fester.

Cassian hands over the gift in his hands to Azriel, and Nesta watches as he dares to glance over his shoulder, dares to meet her gaze, but then he's quickly looking away again and moving across the room. Moving away and putting as much space as possible between him and her. Nesta has to swallow down a sigh, toying aimlessly at the corner of her new reading journal.

She tries to focus on the gifts being handed out and opened, tries to focus on Feyre's excitement as she's deservedly showered in Solstice and birthday gifts alike. It, at least, gets easier once the cake is brought out. She can focus on nibbling on the slice she's given, on the sweet, chocolate taste that blooms across her tongue with every bite.

But the taste quickly turns sour when she notices Cassian slip from the room completely and head for the stairs. She counts in her head, waiting for an acceptable amount of time to have passed before she quietly excuses herself. When she reaches the end of the hallway upstairs, she finds the door to Cassian's guest room already closed, and she pauses in front of it, hand raised to knock, but…

She still doesn't know what to say. Still doesn't know how to untangle the mess of old feelings and current feelings, of old wounds and scars. Still doesn't know how to sort through the way her heart still stutters at the sight of those hazel eyes and soft smile, the sound of that warm laughter. Still doesn't know how to put into words the yearning that twines between and around her ribs as surely as a golden thread she swears draws them together.

With a quiet huff to herself, Nesta shakes her head, spinning on her heel and instead retreating to her own guest bedroom. She's sure that a few minutes to clear her head, to sort through her thoughts will do the trick. But everything eddies out of her mind when she notices there's a gift placed neatly on the center of the guest bed.

She steps toward the bed slowly, frowning curiously at the simple brown paper wrapping. It looks so inconspicuous, carefully placed in the center of the bed, but the handwriting spelling out her name is unmistakable. She picks up the gift and unwraps it, and there's no stopping Nesta's gasp at what's inside. Before she can stop herself or even think twice, she storms out of the bedroom and across the hallway.

"Where did you get this?" Nesta demands, holding the book in her hand aloft.

Cassian pauses what he was doing, looking toward Nesta and raising an eyebrow. "… a bookstore?"

Nesta rolls her eyes, opening the book in her hands to the title page. "It's personalized and signed. And you and I both know that Sellyn Drake rarely does book signings."

"A lucky bookstore?"

"Cassian."

Cassian sighs softly, straightening and pushing a hand up and through his hair. "It wasn't that far. Besides, you know I like to drive, that the open road always helps clear my head."

Nesta blinks a few times, trying to wrap her mind around what he's saying. "You drove all the way to Athelwood to get me a book?"

"What else was I supposed to get you for Solstice? I wasn't exactly going to be able to fit bookcases in the back of your car for you to take home." Nesta's heart skips over itself at his words, the memory threatening to crash forward at them, but Cassian's almost self deprecating chuckle draws her right back to the present. "Don't give me that look. I know you, Nes. I know you still have those shitty Ikea shelves. They're going to start sagging under the weight of all your books. You need proper wooden ones."

Nesta swallows hard around the lump pressing against her throat. It's what he always promised her. Cassian was good with his hands, in more ways than one, and he swore that he was going to build her bookcases. Swore that he'd help bring her dream library to life.

It's too much that he still remembers that. Too much that he went out of his way to get her a signed book of her favorite author. It burns too bright in her veins and threatens to claw right out of her skin. She needs a distraction and fast, and when she glances around the room, she notices what had Cassian's attention before: his duffel bag.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yeah," Cassian sighs softly, turning back to the duffel bag as well, zipping it up. "Got to get back to the gym."

Nesta scoffs at that. She knows running when she sees it. She used to be damn good at running from her problems, pushing everyone away and shoving everything down deep where she'd never have to address it again.

"Bullshit."

Cassian lets out a sound somewhere between a huff and a humorless laugh, practically shoving at his duffel bag before he whirls on her. "What do you want me to say, Nesta? I can't do this. I can't…" Cassian swallows, shoving a hand up and through his hair. "I know I crossed a line last night, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. But you're it for me. You're always going to be it for me, and if it were up to me, we'd—" Whatever words were going to finish that thought, Cassian chokes them back. He shakes his head and turns back to his duffel bag, settling the strap over his shoulder. "It's better for me to just go."

He moves for the bedroom door, but Nesta is quick to step right into his path, blocking his way. "You should stay."

Cassian closes his eyes, and Nesta can see every emotion written so clearly across his face, every etch of pain that's echoed in the cracks through her own chest and heart. They're broken is so many of the same places, in the same way, and Nesta is tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of pretending she doesn't miss the way things used to be.

Pretending that she doesn't miss him.

So she sets the book in her hand aside and steps closer into Cassian's space, settling her hand on his chest, where she can feel his heart fluttering just beneath her palm. "I'm asking you to stay."

The sound of Cassian's duffel bag dropping to their feet is overly loud in the quiet of the room. His hand reaches up to curl around her own, his touch warm, grounding, where his fingers squeeze her wrist. His gaze dances over her face, searching, and Nesta just prays that he finds what he's looking for in her expression.

"Just for the weekend?" Cassian asks, his voice quiet and rough. "Or…?"

"You always were a big idiot."

Nesta's own fingers twist into the fabric of Cassian's shirt. She uses the grip to tug him down, tug him further into her, at the same moment she presses up onto her toes. It's like coming back home, slotting her lips against Cassian's. The press of his mouth, the taste of him, it sends a comforting familiarity twining warmly up her spine. Cassian sighs into her mouth, his hands sliding up to cradle her jaw, and Nesta practically melts into the kiss. Melts into him.

"I missed this," Cassian tells her, his lips skating across her jaw, down her throat. "Missed you."

His teeth scrape teasingly across her pulse point, and Nesta whines high in the back of her throat. "Cassian."

"Definitely missed you saying my name like that."

He draws his mouth back to hers, kissing her slow and deep. Nesta's pulse starts to flutter, and she swears Cassian must be able to feel where it pounds beneath his palm, where his large hand still spans across her jaw. She feels dizzy with the way Cassian kisses her, the sensuality of it, the way his tongue presses into her mouth and curls around her own.

When he pulls back again, his hands reach for her hair. Nesta can't decide if she should be surprised or touched that he still knows exactly where to find every pin buried amongst the golden brown strands. He tugs each one free until her hair tumbles down her shoulders and along her spine, the strands whispers against her cheek as they fall.

"Still so predictable," Nesta teases him, her voice quiet.

"And you're still so beautiful with your hair down."

Despite their time apart, it's almost practiced ease that Cassian walks them back toward the bed, that he sends Nesta tumbling back against the blankets. He kneels up onto the bed as well, caging her in with his large frame. As he kisses her again, Nesta's hands reach up beneath the hem of Cassian's shirt, dragging across his warm skin, dragging up the fabric. He pulls back enough that he can fist the back of his shirt, tugging it off completely and tossing it aside. Nesta practically moans appreciatively at the sight, daring to curl her nails against Cassian's shoulder, to bury her other hand amongst the dark curly strands of his hair.

"Your turn, sweetheart."

His hands make quick work of removing Nesta's sweater, her bra, and even her pants. It feels unfair, their comparative states of undress, but it's hard to focus on that when Cassian is looking at her the way he is. With his lips parted and his eyes dark, it's almost as if he's never seen her naked before.

"Fuck me," Cassian whispers, seemingly more to himself than anything.

He leans back down, latching his mouth to her throat. His lips drag across her skin, down over her collarbones until he reaches her breast. The hot press of his mouth against her skin only stokes the fire in her veins higher, like an echoing heat being brought to life. She arches up against him, burying a hand in his hair and dragging her nails against his scalp.

"Always flushed so pretty for me."

He switches his mouth's attention to her other breast, his hand finding home and continuing his previous ministrations, and Nesta is putty beneath him. She's always been so sensitive there, and the way his tongue swirls over her nipple, the way the stubble along his jaw scrapes against her skin, the way his fingers knead at the flesh, it all goes straight between her legs.

Nesta whines when Cassian pulls back, but he merely continues his path downwards, sliding down the bed until his shoulders are cradled between her thighs, until he can hook his thumbs into the waistband of her panties. He drags them down her legs slowly and tosses them aside before his fingers dig into the skin of her thighs, spreading her wider still.

It's unfair that one man can look so good between her thighs, with his hair already unruly from her own fingers, with his eyes dark and pinned directly on her, with that cocksure smirk of his beginning to peek through. It's unfair that she missed the sight of this so much.

"Fuck, look how wet this pretty cunt already is," Cassian groans, one of his thumbs skating over her teasingly.

"Cassian, please," Nesta whines, trying to buck her hips against his hold.

"That's a good girl. Listen to how you beg."

Just the words have Nesta's toes curling, but even more so when Cassian rewards her begging. He sweeps the flat of his tongue over her, tracing a line all the way to her clit. He repeats the motion again and again, his lips closing around and teasing her clit with each pass. Nesta's fingers scrabble for purchase in the dark strands of his hair, her ankles slipping against his shoulders.

Cassian groans against her, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure he draws out of her. She swears there's nothing like this, the way he works his mouth and devours her, the way he makes her absolutely dizzy with it. Nesta tries to rock her hips, tries to ride his face, but Cassian's grip on her thighs is too firm. He keeps his eyes on her the whole time, as he builds her higher and higher.

He's like a man starved, a man on a mission, and Nesta certainly isn't complaining, not when her entire body feels like a live-wire from the way he continues to eat her out. That all too familiar pressure builds low in her gut, and Nesta whines, Cassian's name bubbling up at the back of her throat, but she's unable to press it forward, unable to warn him before the dam breaks and her release tears through her. Her thighs squeeze around Cassian's head, pleasure burning though her veins like a wildfire.

But Cassian doesn't stop his ministrations. His mouth continues to slide against her, his tongue pressing into her cunt where it still clenches and flutters with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Nesta whimpers at the over stimulation, trying to squirm away, but Cassian merely tugs her right back toward his mouth.

"Cassian… fuck…"

Cassian finally pulls his mouth away, that cocksure smirk of his still firmly in place. "I almost forgot how gorgeous you are when you come."

He turns his head to press sweet, soothing kisses along her inner thigh, and Nesta melts back against the mattress and the blankets. But her reprieve is short lived when Cassian buries two fingers in her cunt. Nesta gasps at the sudden intrusion, at the way the thick line of his fingers drag against the walls of her cunt.

"That's it, sweetheart."

Nesta has to bite her lip hard to keep her sounds in when Cassian starts to move his fingers, scissoring and spreading them. All their time apart and he still knows exactly how to play her body, how to thrust and curl his fingers until she's keening and moaning.

"Taking my fingers so well," he tells her, squeezing in a third finger beside the first two and curling them.

The praise goes right to Nesta's head, the motion of his fingers flaring straight through her veins. Her hand snaps down to curl around Cassian's wrist, nails biting against his skin as she holds him, keeps him right there with his fingers buried deep. He groans at her response, his forehead dropping against her hip bone.

"Are you going to squeeze my cock as tight as you're squeezing my fingers?"

"Take your pants off and find out."

Cassian chuckles softly, his hazel eyes flaring when he tilts his head to meet Nesta's gaze properly again. "Still so bratty. Don't you want to be a good girl for me, Nes?"

He curls his fingers again as he said the words, but Nesta swallows down her gasping moan, refusing to back down. "Don't you want to fuck me?"

Cassian slides back up Nesta's body, his fingers never ceasing their brutal pace. He drags his nose over her collarbones, up her throat, until he can press a kiss to that spot behind her ear that always has Nesta shuddering, until he can sink his teeth into her earlobe.

"If our whole family wasn't just downstairs, I'd punish you for that," he whispers right against her ear, hot breath curling against her skin. "Have you screaming and crying until you're absolutely begging for my cock. But we'll just have to save that for when we're back home."

Pleasure is a flame twining all the way down Nesta's spine, and she turns her head enough that her nose bumps against his. "Promise?"

Cassian's smirk and the spark that flares through his hazel eyes feels like answer enough. He shifts enough that he can pull his fingers free, and Nesta whines at the loss, at the emptiness, but then he's clambering off the bed. Those fingers of his make deft work of his belt and pant button, and he shoves his jeans down his legs, kicking them aside. But then his hands pause in the waistband of his boxers, his expression slackening.

"I don't have anything."

The words have Nesta frowning in confusion, and she pushes up onto her elbows, watching him. "What?"

"I don't… I mean I didn't exactly expect this to be how the weekend went. Well, I'd hoped." Cassian sighs softly, tilting his head up toward the ceiling. "But I mean it felt a bit like putting the chicken before the egg if I packed—"

"Oh."

Silence falls between them and in the room. If Nesta listens hard enough, she can just hear the sounds of everyone still downstairs drinking and laughing and celebrating Feyre and the holiday. She doesn't have much to offer Cassian. She certainly didn't pack any condoms in her bag for this weekend.

"Wait."

It's all Cassian says before he turns on his heel, practically sprinting out of the bedroom door. He doesn't even bother closing the door behind him, and Nesta hisses out his name after him, scrambling to cover herself with a blanket. At least the open door gives her the perfect view of exactly what Cassian is doing, to watch him dart into the room across the hall and root around in what Nesta presumes must be Azriel's bag. When he finally returns to the room, he has a condom poised between his fingers, his smile wide and triumphant as he closes the door behind him.

"Who knew Az and Eris fucking like rabbits all weekend could be beneficial to us too?"

Nesta snorts softly. "Won't your brother notice you've stolen from him?"

"I doubt he's keeping count enough to notice," Cassian offers, kneeing up onto the bed again. "Besides, I thought you wanted me to fuck you."

"Just shut up and kiss me."

Cassian shakes his head fondly, but he obliges to her request, leaning down and connecting their lips again. Nesta buries her hands in his hair, kicking the blankets off her body so that she can wrap her legs around his hips and pull him into her. Cassian groans into her mouth, teeth teasing her bottom lip.

He pulls back enough that he can finally shimmy out of his boxers, quickly tossing them aside. His lips are back on hers as soon as he's slipped the condom on, tongue pressing into her mouth and drawing a moan from Nesta's throat with every flick and curl against her own. The calluses of his hands slide across her skin, down her thighs, until they hook beneath her knees, hiking her legs higher around his waist.

He moves his lips along her jaw, her throat. The head of his cock drags against Nesta's cunt, and her whole body shudders in anticipation, but he doesn't press forward. He does the same motion again, teasing her, and Nesta tightens her grip on Cassian's hair with a huff.

"Cass, please," Nesta whines, trying to buck her hips up against him.

"There's that pretty begging."

He lines up his cock, and with a snap of his hips, he buries himself in her cunt, both of them moaning. Every nerve ending in Nesta's body zeroes in on where they're joined, where his cock stretches her and presses deep.

"Gods, I almost forgot how good it feels to have you wrapped around me."

He pulls his hips back just to rock them back forward again, building up a hard pace of thrusts. Nesta moans with every drag of his cock against the walls of her cunt, the way he fills her so completely. It has her clenching down hard around him, has her tilting her own hips up to meet every snap of his.

"That's a good girl," Cassian groans against her throat. "Squeezing me."

The praise only adds to the haze taking over Nesta's mind, the constant loop of pleasure and Cassian. She's little more than a mess of moans and whimpers and his name, little more than a puddle melting into the blankets beneath the press of his body above her. She barely even registers the pleas tumbling past her lips until Cassian's low voice cuts through again.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll give you what you need. Keep you stretched and full."

His hand reaches down between their bodies, finding her clit with practiced each. Each tight circle he traces with his fingertips, each snap of his hips as he continues to fuck her, it only drives Nesta higher, her whole body on pins and needles and primed to fall head first over that ledge.

"Now be my good girl and come for me."

Nesta can do nothing but give in to the command. Spots dance behind her eyelids, and she clenches down hard as she barrels through her release, Cassian continuing to move his hips and elongating it as he chases his own. Even in her blissed-out state, Nesta makes sure to reach a hand up and into Cassian's hair, to tug just the way she knows he likes. Just the way to have his hips stuttering, his whole body shuddering as he comes with a groan.

When Cassian pulls out and shifts off of her, Nesta takes a moment to catch her breath. She pushes herself off the bed, picking up Cassian's discarded shirt off the floor and tugging it on. The large size keeps her mostly covered, the hem falling halfway down her thighs, but Nesta still pokes her head out the door, making sure the coast is truly clear before slipping down the hallway to the bathroom.

She takes the time to clean herself up, to splash water on her face and fix her hair in the bathroom mirror. When she steps back into the bedroom, Cassian has shifted to lay completely beneath the blankets, his hand tucked casually behind his head. There's no stopping the way her heart trips and stumbles between her ribs when his eyes meet hers, when that slow, soft smile she knows is just for her tugs across his face.

"Shouldn't we get dressed and go back downstairs?"

"Nap first, family time later," Cassian tells her, folding down the blankets in clear invitation.

Nesta rolls her eyes, but they both know it's fond, both know she was never going to do anything other than climb back into the bed. She's barely settled beneath the blankets before Cassian is shifting into his favorite position, arms tight and secure around her waist, his head pillowed on her chest.

"I almost forgot how cuddly you get after sex."

With how they're pressed so surely together, Nesta feels more than she hears the low rumble of Cassian's answering chuckle. Feels the soft puff of air as he sighs contently. Feels the way his arms squeeze.

"Better get used to it, sweetheart, because you're never getting rid of me now."

The words are barely more than a mumble against her chest, but Nesta still has to bite her lip around a smile. Wrapped up here in this bed, with him, she feels truly at peace. Feels warm and safe and happy. She raises her hand enough that she can card her fingers through the dark strands of his hair, dragging her nails just enough that she has Cassian all but purring, both their hearts slow and steady and whole.

"Good."

—

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