#Listener why are you pretending to be a bartender

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 1: March 2023

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

....Do not expect particular quick updates on this, because it's a beast of a story. Also: kinda Charles bashing, but not really? You'll see.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

A Bar in Montecarlo: 

Max had come to the bar for a quiet drink, not to get his world flipped upside down. But then he spotted her.

She was standing at the counter, waiting for her drink, all soft confidence and effortless elegance. The kind of woman who didn’t need to try to turn heads—she just did. And Max, never one to let an opportunity pass him by, slid up beside her with his most charming smirk and opened his mouth. 

And because apparently, he had actually listened the last time Lando told him all about the absolutely horrible Pick-Up-Lines that he had tried with middling success…that was what came out of his mouth.

“Excuse me,” he said smoothly, “but do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

She turned, amused—

And Max nearly choked.

Because he knew her.

His brain scrambled for a second before his mouth caught up. “Oh, shit. You’re Charles’ little sister.”

Her entire expression changed. The amusement faded, her jaw tightening. “Wow,” she deadpanned. “That’s one way to ruin a moment.”

Max grimaced. “That’s not what I—”

She picked up her drink and turned fully toward him, raising a brow. “I do have a name, you know.”

He nodded quickly, recovering. “Right. Isabelle.”

“Good job,” she said dryly. “Want a gold star?”

Max huffed out a laugh. “Look, I just wasn’t expecting you. I see a beautiful woman at a bar, and my instinct is to flirt. Then I realize she’s my colleague’s little sister, and I panic.”

Her lips twitched. “And?”

“And… I’m still going to flirt with you,” he admitted, grinning. “But properly this time.”

She tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh?”

Max leaned in slightly. “Can I buy you a drink, Isabelle?”

She pretended to consider. “That depends. Are you going to keep calling me Charles’ little sister?”

He placed a hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear never to utter those words again.”

Her lips curled in the slightest smirk. “In that case, sure. Let’s see if you can impress me, Verstappen.”

Max had never been one to back down from a challenge. And something told him this was a challenge he’d never want to walk away from.

Max flagged down the bartender, ordering another round for both of them. Isabelle took a slow sip of her drink, watching him over the rim of her glass like she was trying to decide if he was worth her time.

He liked that. Liked that she wasn’t falling over herself just because he was Max Verstappen.

“So,” he said, leaning against the bar, “what exactly would impress you?”

She hummed, tapping a finger against her glass. “A conversation that doesn’t involve my brothers.”

Max smirked. “That easy?”

“You’d be surprised how many people fail that test.”

He could imagine. Charles was everywhere in the racing world, and by extension, so was Isabelle. It must be exhausting, always being seen as an extension of someone else.

Max took the challenge seriously. “Alright,” he said, shifting toward her. “Tell me something about you that has nothing to do with your family.”

She studied him for a moment, like she was assessing if he was genuine. Then, after a beat, she said, “I work in architecture.”

Max blinked. “Really?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I never thought about what you do.”

She smirked. “That’s because you’ve only ever seen me as Charles’ little sister.”

Max winced. “Okay, fair. But I’m interested now.”

“Are you?” She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “I have heard your name at work before.”

Max frowned. “You have?”

“Oh, yeah,” Isabelle said, taking another sip of her drink. “Apparently, you’ve been house hunting. One of my colleagues nearly had a meltdown over the idea of designing a place for Max Verstappen.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “Wait… which project?”

She bit back a smile. “A penthouse. You toured it a few weeks ago.”

Max suddenly knew exactly which one she was talking about. He had liked the place, but something had held him back from committing.

Now, though?

Now, he was very seriously considering signing the papers just for an excuse to see her again.

He leaned in, watching her reaction closely. “And if I were to, say, buy that penthouse?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Then I’d know you had good taste.”

Max grinned. “That’s it?”

She shrugged. “That, and I’d probably have to endure my colleagues freaking out for at least a week.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, then. Guess I have some decisions to make.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes, but he caught the way her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile.

Yeah. He was definitely buying that penthouse.

Max drummed his fingers against the bar, pretending to think. "Alright, so let’s say I do buy that penthouse. Hypothetically."

Isabelle gave him a knowing look. "Hypothetically."

"Would I get a personal consultation?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "That’s not how it works."

"But if I had, I don’t know, questions about the design, or maybe some concerns about the layout, I’d need someone to talk to, wouldn’t I?"

Isabelle swirled the last of her drink in her glass, watching him with an amused glint in her eyes. "Max, are you trying to say you need my number for professional reasons?"

He grinned, tilting his head. "I mean, what if I need an expert opinion? You are the only architect I know."

She sighed in mock exasperation, but he could tell she was entertained. "I really shouldn’t encourage this."

"But you want to," Max countered, smirking.

Her lips twitched, and after a moment’s pause, she reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. "Fine. Give me yours, I’ll text you."

Max typed in his number so fast that she actually laughed. She typed something in her phone. 

A second later, his phone buzzed with a new message.

Unknown Number: Congratulations on your completely unbiased, definitely not suspicious real estate decision.

Max chuckled. "So, what happens if I text you about things that aren’t penthouse-related?"

Isabelle lifted her glass to her lips and said, before taking the last sip, "Guess we’ll find out."

And just like that, Max Verstappen knew he was completely screwed.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

(Unknown Number): Hey, it’s Max.

(Unknown Number): Verstappen.

(Unknown Number): Just in case you know a lot of Maxes.

Isabelle: I don’t.

Max: Good. Would hate to have competition already.

Isabelle: Already?

Max: What can I say? I like you.

Isabelle: You barely know me.

Max: That’s true. But I’d like to change that.

Isabelle: …That was smooth.

Max: Was it?

Isabelle: Surprisingly, yes.

Max: Noted. I’ll add it to my very short list of smooth moments.

Isabelle: Very short?

Max: Tragically short.

Isabelle: I don’t know if I believe that.

Max: I promise, my sister would confirm it.

Isabelle: You have a sister?

Max: Victoria.

Isabelle: Right, I think I’ve seen her before.

Max: Probably. She’d probably like you, by the way.

Isabelle: Oh?

Max: Yeah. She has a good instinct about people.

Isabelle: And what does your instinct say?

Max: That I really, really want to see you again.

Isabelle: You’re very direct, aren’t you?

Max: Is that a bad thing?

Isabelle: No. Just… unexpected.

Max: Well, I can be subtle too.

Isabelle: Can you?

Max: Definitely. For example, I could subtly ask what you’re doing tomorrow night.

Isabelle: …Very subtle.

Max: Thank you. So?

Isabelle: I might be free.

Max: Good. Then I’ll subtly ask if you’d like to have dinner with me.

Isabelle: Are you always like this?

Max: Only when I really like someone.

Isabelle: …Dinner sounds nice.

Max: Perfect. I’ll send you the details.

Isabelle: Looking forward to it.

Max: Me too.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: I met someone.

Victoria: …Okay?

Max: And I think I’m in love.

Victoria: MAX.

Victoria: You literally just met her??

Max: Yes.

Victoria: And you think you’re in love?

Max: Yes.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Victoria: Max.

Victoria: WHAT.

Victoria: HOW.

Victoria: WHY.

Max: I don’t know, Vic. I just know. I met her tonight and I just…I just know.

Victoria: You’ve known her for one night.

Max: Yes.

Victoria: Max.

Max: Vic.

Victoria: Oh my god, you’re serious.

Max: Very.

Victoria: You’re actually gone for her already.

Max: Completely.

Victoria: …Okay.

Max: Okay?

Victoria: Yeah.

Victoria: I mean, I think you’re insane, but if anyone deserves to fall stupidly, recklessly in love, it’s you.

Max: …Thanks, Vic.

Victoria: You deserve to be loved, Max.

Victoria: For who you are. Not because you’re Max Verstappen, two-time world champion, but just because you’re you.

Max: …

Max: I think she sees me that way.

Victoria: Then hold onto her.

Max: I plan to.

Victoria: Is that why you’re texting me at midnight like a lunatic?

Max: …I may have also just bought that penthouse.

Victoria: MAX.

Victoria: YOU HAVE BEEN UNDECIDED ABOUT THAT PENTHOUSE FOR MONTHS.

Victoria: AND NOW YOU MEET A GIRL AND SUDDENLY YOU’RE BUYING IT???

Max: Her architecture firm is working on it.

Victoria: This is why people say Libras are intense.

Max: That’s astrology nonsense.

Victoria: SAYS THE MAN PLANNING A WHOLE FUTURE AFTER ONE CONVERSATION.

Max: I have a good feeling about it.

Victoria: MAX.

Max: What? You just said I deserve to be loved.

Victoria: YES, BUT I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D LOSE YOUR ENTIRE MIND OVER IT.

Max: Too late.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Victoria: You are actually the most ridiculous person alive.

Victoria: But if she makes you happy… then I’m happy for you.

Max: She does.

Victoria: Then that’s all that matters.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Emergency. Crisis. Disaster.

Emilie: That’s a lot of words. What happened?

Isabelle: I have a date.

Emilie: And that’s a disaster because…?

Isabelle: Because it’s with Max Verstappen.

Emilie: …

Emilie: I’m going to need a second.

Emilie:

Emilie:

Emilie:

Emilie: Okay, I’m back. WHAT???

Isabelle: We met at a bar. He asked me out. I said yes. And now I don’t know what to wear. Focus. Help.

Emilie: We met at a bar, he asked me out, I said yes—DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF???

Isabelle: EMILIE. FOCUS. OUTFIT.

Emilie: Right. Okay. Where is he taking you?

Isabelle: Some fancy restaurant. Not too fancy, but still expensive.

Emilie: God, of course. Okay. Simple but elegant. A dress that makes it look like you didn’t try too hard, even though you absolutely did.

Isabelle: Black dress?

Emilie: Obviously. And heels. You own some ridiculous ones. Wear those.

Isabelle: You are suspiciously good at this.

Emilie: Because I have taste. Now, more importantly—DO YOUR BROTHERS KNOW??

Isabelle: …

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: No, they do not.

Emilie: WHY NOT???

Isabelle: Because I don’t want to deal with it.

Emilie: You are dating CHARLES LECLERC’S BIGGEST RIVAL. YOU DON’T THINK THAT’S WORTH MENTIONING???

Isabelle: One date does not mean I’m dating him.

Emilie: YET.

Isabelle: I don’t think Charles would care.

Emilie: …That is the saddest sentence I have ever read.

Emilie: You don’t think Charles would care.

Isabelle: No.

Emilie: Are we talking about the same man??? The one who holds grudges against people for bad karting races from 15 years ago??

Isabelle: I am saying that I am basically invisible in my family, and therefore, he will not care.

Emilie: THAT IS SO DEPRESSING.

Isabelle: It’s just reality.

Emilie: No, it’s tragic. And when Charles inevitably does care, I am going to be so smug about it.

Isabelle: He won’t.

Emilie: He will. And when he finds out from Twitter instead of you, I am going to remind you forever that I was right.

Isabelle: Fine. If he does, I will buy you dinner.

Emilie: And?

Isabelle: And I will admit you were right.

Emilie: Good girl. But first, we need to make sure Max Verstappen is absolutely floored when he sees you tonight. Let’s pick out your dress.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: HELP.

Max: I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Max: I’m serious, Vic. This is important.

Victoria: It’s one date.

Max: Exactly! First impressions matter. What if I wear something stupid?

Victoria: You wear team merch 90% of the time, so that’s a real possibility.

Max: NOT HELPING.

Victoria: Okay, okay. Where are you taking her?

Max: Nice restaurant. Fancy-ish but not too fancy.

Victoria: Alright. Dark jeans, nice shirt, jacket. Clean shoes.

Max: That’s it???

Victoria: Yes, you’re not walking a red carpet, Max.

Max: What if she thinks it’s boring?

Victoria: If she’s going out with you, she probably already knows you’re a little fashion-challenged.

Max: Wow.

Victoria: I’m just saying, if she agreed to a date, she clearly likes you. Just wear something that fits and isn’t Red Bull merch.

Max: I feel like you’re underestimating the stress of this situation.

Victoria: I feel like you’re underestimating the fact that she already said yes.

Max: …Good point.

Victoria: Obviously. Now go find a shirt that isn’t a team polo and try not to overthink it.

Max: No promises.

Victoria: You’re impossible.

Max: And yet, you still love me.

Victoria: Unfortunately. Now go. And don’t text me from the restaurant freaking out.

Max: No guarantees.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: Well????

Isabelle: Well, what?

Emilie: Isabelle. Do not play dumb with me. How did the date go??

Isabelle: …It was really nice.

Emilie: THAT’S ALL YOU’RE GIVING ME?

Emilie: I want DETAILS. Did he show up looking stupidly handsome? Was he nice? Did he make you laugh? Did you kiss him??

Isabelle: Yes, yes, yes, and Yes.

Emilie: YES??

​​Isabelle: I kissed him.

Emilie: !!!!!

Emilie: Details. Now.

Isabelle: It was after our date. He walked me to my door, and I just… kissed him.

Emilie: You just kissed him?? Who are you and what have you done with my overthinking best friend??

Isabelle: Shut up. I didn’t even think about it. I just did it.

Emilie: And???

Isabelle: And then he kissed me back.

Emilie: …That better not be the end of the story.

Isabelle: It was soft. And slow. And he cupped my face like I was something precious.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Emilie: Isabelle, my love. My dearest best friend.

Emilie: You’re done for.

Isabelle: … I know.

Emilie: And how did he look after?

Isabelle: Like he was trying very hard not to kiss me again.

Emilie: Oh, you’re so doomed.

Isabelle: I know.

Emilie: Tell me everything.

Isabelle: He was already at the restaurant when I got there, which was sweet. He pulled out my chair for me. He was nervous, which was insane to me because, you know, he’s Max Verstappen.

Emilie: Boy has driven through Eau Rouge at full speed, but a girl makes him nervous. I love this.

Isabelle: He kept looking at me like I was the most interesting person in the world. Like he actually wanted to hear everything I had to say.

Emilie: I love him already.

Isabelle: You love him?? Emilie, I might actually be in trouble here.

Emilie: Uh oh.

Isabelle: …He sent me flowers.

Emilie: WHAT.

Emilie: When???

Isabelle: They just got delivered.

Emilie: EXCUSE ME.

Emilie: You go on ONE date with Max Verstappen and wake up to FLOWERS???

Isabelle: Apparently.

Emilie: What kind?

Isabelle: Peonies.

Emilie: Belle.

Emilie: He is so in love with you.

Isabelle: It was one date.

Emilie: AND???

Emilie: The man sent you flowers the morning after like he’s starring in a romance novel.

Isabelle: Maybe he just does that?

Emilie: Girl. Be serious.

Emilie: Did he say anything with them?

Isabelle: There was a note.

Emilie: AND???

Isabelle: It just says ‘Last night was perfect. Can’t wait to see you again. – Max’

Emilie: I’M GONNA SCREAM.

Emilie: Max Verstappen is courting you.

Isabelle: Courting is a strong word.

Emilie: He sent you flowers. He is so gone for you.

Isabelle: …Maybe.

Emilie: So… second date?

Isabelle: Saturday.

Emilie: GIRL.

Isabelle: I know.

***

Isabelle Leclerc’s Instagram Post

Comments:

@/emilie_abadie: 👀👀👀

@/F1GossipQueen: That’s a very ‘I have a thoughtful boyfriend’ kind of flower arrangement.

↳@/paddockprincessx: Soft launch era????

@/leclercsiblingtea: If Charles doesn’t know who sent these, I need his live reaction immediately.

↳@/monacogossip: Why do I feel like this is someone wildly unexpected?

↳@/redbullsimpclub: Place your bets now, I’m saying it’s a paddock guy.

↳@/f1shenanigans: If this is from an F1 driver, I am losing my mind.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Isabelle: Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful.

Isabelle: And for yesterday. I had a really nice time.

Max: I’m glad you liked them. 

Max: What’s your favorite flower? For next time.

Isabelle: Snowdrops.

Max: Snowdrops?

Isabelle: Yes?

Max: I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone whose favorite flower is snowdrops.

Isabelle: That’s a shame. They’re beautiful. And they bloom in the cold, when nothing else does.

Max : Like you, then.

Isabelle: …Are you trying to be charming, Max Verstappen?

Max: Is it working?

Isabelle: Maybe.

Max: Good.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen

Sophie: So… Victoria told me something interesting.

Max: She needs a new hobby.

Sophie: Max.

Max: What?

Sophie: Are you in love?

Max: …Maybe.

Sophie: After one conversation?

Max: No! After two conversations.

Sophie: Oh, well, that’s much more reasonable.

Max: Mom.

Sophie: Max.

Max: Look, I just know that it’s different. I’ve never felt like this before.

Sophie: That’s a big thing to say.

Max: I know. But I can’t explain it. It just makes sense.

Sophie: So how did the date go?

Max: …It was perfect.

Sophie: Now we’re getting somewhere.

Max: She’s funny, she’s smart, she actually listens when I talk about racing—like, really listens. And she doesn’t care about the other stuff. The money, the fame. None of it. She just likes me.

Sophie: That’s important.

Max: I know.

Sophie: So when do I get to meet her?

Max: When she doesn’t think I’m a crazy person for how fast I’m falling for her.

Sophie: I hate to break it to you, Max, but you bought a penthouse because her firm is working on it.

Max: …

Sophie: That’s what I thought.

Max: It’s a very nice penthouse.

Sophie: Of course it is.

Max: So you’re not going to say I’m insane?

Sophie: Oh, you are insane. But you’re also my son. And if this makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.

Max: Thanks, Mom.

Sophie: Now tell me, do I need to start planning a wedding?

Max: Goodbye.

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale) 

Arthur: Dinner at Maman’s, Saturday, usual time?

Charles: Yeah, I’ll be there.

Lorenzo: Me too.

Isabelle: I can’t make it, I’m busy.

Arthur: What’s Maman making?

Charles: Probably something with pasta.

Lorenzo: Didn’t she say something about lamb last time?

Arthur: Oh yeah, I think so.

Isabelle: Have fun!

Charles: See you all Saturday.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: Hey, if I were to ask for date advice, purely hypothetically…

Victoria: Oh my God.

Max: What?

Victoria: You NEVER ask for advice. This must be serious.

Max: It’s not that serious.

Victoria: You literally bought an apartment because of this girl.

Max: …That’s unrelated.

Victoria: Sure it is.

Max: So… hypothetically… if I needed some guidance, what would you suggest?

Victoria: Are you actually asking for advice, or are you just hoping I’ll make it easier for you by giving you a list of things not to do?

Max: ...

Victoria: That’s what I thought. Give me a second.

Victoria: Okay, here’s your DO NOT list:

Do not talk about tire degradation.

Do not mention iRacing, no matter how good your last stint was.

Do not wear a Red Bull hoodie.

Do not check F1 news during the date.

Do not turn the date into a competition.

Do not text me mid-date if you panic. Figure it out.

Do not propose.

Max: …That last one was unnecessary.

Victoria: I’m just covering all bases.

Max: I wasn’t going to propose.

Victoria: Good. Then this should be easy for you.

Max: The Red Bull hoodie rule feels unfair.

Victoria: Max.

Max: Fine. No Red Bull hoodie.

Victoria: Thank you.

Max: …Can I at least wear the cap?

Victoria: Max.

Max: Alright, alright. No cap.

Victoria: Proud of you. Now, go be normal.

Max: No promises.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max: Hypothetically. If you were taking someone on a second date. What would you do?

GP: …Why are you asking me?

Max: Because you’re married!

GP: And?

Max: That means you’ve successfully dated someone.

GP: That does not make me a dating expert.

GP: Also, since when do you ask me for relationship advice?

GP: Who is she?

Max: …

GP: Max.

Max:

GP: MAX.

GP: WHO IS IT.

Max: Isabelle.

GP: Isabelle who?

Max: …Leclerc.

GP:

GP: MAX.

GP: CHARLES LECLERC’S SISTER?!?!?!?!?

Max: Yeah, she doesn’t really like being called that.

GP: MAX.

GP: DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?

Max: Not particularly.

GP: HOW DID THIS HAPPEN.

Max: I met her.

GP: OBVIOUSLY.

GP: Where?! When?! How long has this been going on?!

Max:  A few days.

GP: And Charles doesn’t know???

Max: I don’t think he notices much about her.

GP: Okay, that’s a whole other issue, but back to you.

GP: Do you have any self-preservation instincts?

Max: She’s nice. I like her.

GP: THAT IS NOT THE POINT.

GP: Do you realize the incident this could cause?

Max: If I wanted overreactions, I’d have texted Victoria.

GP: I AM REACTING APPROPRIATELY.

GP: What does Victoria think?

Max: She said, "You deserve to be loved."

GP: …Well, that’s suspiciously sentimental.

GP: But also, Charles is still going to kill you.

Max: You’re being dramatic.

GP: AM I?

Max: Are you helping or not?

GP: I AM TOO BUSY PROCESSING YOUR TERRIBLE LIFE CHOICES.

GP: Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Let’s focus.

GP: You need a second date idea.

GP: That does not result in Charles Leclerc murdering you.

Max: I think you’re overestimating how much he pays attention to her.

GP: That’s between them. I am concerned for you.

Max: You’re being dramatic again.

GP: No, I’m being realistic.

Max: …I’ll deal with that when it happens.

GP: Unbelievable.

GP: Alright. Date ideas.

GP: What did you do for the first one?

Max: Dinner. Talked a lot.

GP: What does she like?

Max: Horses.

GP: Horses.

GP: You’re dating someone who likes horses.

Max: Yes?

GP: I feel like that’s relevant information I should’ve had sooner.

GP: Have you ever been near a horse, Max?

Max: Not really.

GP: Okay, no horse-related dates yet. You will get yourself killed trying to impress her.

Max: She’d find that funny.

GP: I wouldn’t.

GP: Let’s keep it simple. Somewhere quiet. Private. Where you can talk.

Max: I was thinking that too.

GP: What about a picnic?

Max: A picnic.

GP: Yeah. You get some good food, go somewhere nice, and just relax. No stress.

Max: Where am I supposed to find a picnic spot?

GP: You have a balcony, Max.

GP: You literally have a balcony with a view.

GP: Just set something up there.

Max: …That’s actually not a bad idea.

GP: Wow. Praise from the great Max Verstappen. I’m honored.

Max: Don’t get used to it.

GP: Okay, what kind of food does she like?

Max: She ordered pasta on our first date.

GP: That’s a start. You could order from the same place.

Max: Or I could cook.

GP: You could what?

Max: I can cook, GP.

GP: Since when?

Max: Since I lived alone?

GP: Okay, sure. But can you cook something that won’t poison her?

Max: Wow. Faith in me is at an all-time low.

GP: Just making sure she survives the night.

Max: I’ll make pasta. It’s simple.

GP: Fine. But don’t experiment. Stick to what you know.

Max: What do you think I’m going to do? Try molecular gastronomy?

GP: I wouldn’t put it past you.

GP: Okay, what else… You need drinks. Dessert.

Max: She likes red wine.

GP: Get a good wine, then. And dessert?

Max: She mentioned liking raspberries once.

GP: So get her something with raspberries.

Max: Got it.

GP: And what about ambiance?

Max: …

GP: Max.

Max: What?

GP: Do you even own candles?

Max: …Victoria gave me some once.

GP: Use them.

GP: And put some effort into setting the table.

GP: You know, for someone who acts like they don’t care about romance, you’re actually putting effort into this.

Max: …She’s worth the effort.

GP:

GP: Damn.

GP: Okay.

GP: You have to survive Charles finding out.

Max: I told you. I’ll handle it.

GP: Yeah, yeah. Just keep me updated.

Max: Sure.

GP: And if you need actual advice, ask Victoria.

Max: I did ask Victoria. She just sent me a list of things not to do.

GP: What was on the list?

Max: "Don’t talk about tire degradation. Don’t mention iRacing. Don’t wear a Red Bull hoodie."

GP: Solid advice.

Max: She also said, "Act normal."

GP: That one might be harder for you.

Max: Wow.

GP: Just being honest.

GP: So, do you have everything planned?

Max: Yeah. I think so.

GP: Good. Now all you have to do is not mess it up.

Max: Thanks for the vote of confidence.

GP: Any time.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: Soooooo... how was the date?

Isabelle: Good.

Emilie: …That’s it? "Good"? You had dinner with Max Verstappen, a man who has clearly lost his mind over you, and all you have to say is "good"???

Isabelle: Fine. Great. Amazing.

Isabelle: Happy?

Emilie: Better. But I’m gonna need DETAILS.

Isabelle: We had dinner, talked a lot, and then I stayed over.

Emilie:

Emilie: EXCUSE ME???

Emilie: YOU STAYED OVER????

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: As in "I fell asleep on the couch watching a movie and went home in the morning" stayed over, or "I am now intimately familiar with Max Verstappen's bedsheets" stayed over???

Isabelle: …

Emilie: ISABELLE.

Isabelle: Nothing happened. 

Emilie: Oh my god.

Emilie: OH MY GOD.

Isabelle: I swear, nothing happened. It just got late and…

Emilie: This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Isabelle: I’m so glad MY love life is giving you entertainment.

Emilie: You don’t understand. I’ve been waiting for you to have an actual romance for YEARS. YEARS, ISABELLE.

Isabelle: You make it sound like I was living in a cave.

Emilie: Emotionally? Maybe a little.

Isabelle: Rude.

Emilie: True.

Emilie: But seriously. How do you feel?

Isabelle: …I don’t know. It’s weird.

Isabelle: He likes me. Like, really likes me. And I’m not used to that.

Emilie: Then get used to it, babe. Because that man? He’s already gone for you.

Isabelle: You think so?

Emilie: I KNOW so.

Emilie: Now tell me: does he have nice bedsheets, or do I need to stage an intervention?

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

GP: Well???

Max: Well, what?

GP: Don’t play dumb. How did it go?

Max: …

GP: MAX.

Max: It went well.

GP: That’s it? That’s all I get after coaching you through this?

Max: What do you want me to say?

GP: I want details. Did she like the food? Did you talk about tire degradation anyway? Did she laugh about your terrible jokes?

Max: She liked the food. No, I did not mention tire degradation. Rude.

GP: Growth. I’m proud of you.

Max: Thanks.

Max: The cats love her.

GP: …THE CATS?! MAX. That is NOT the update I was looking for.

Max: No, but it’s important. They don’t just like people.

GP: I was expecting romance, maybe a ‘we stayed up talking all night’ or ‘she laughed at all my jokes’—and you’re giving me ‘the cats love her’??!

Max: It means a lot! Jimmy and Sassy were literally fighting for her attention. She was just sitting on the couch, and they both climbed into her lap like she was their owner.

GP: …Okay, I’ll admit, that’s kind of a big deal. You’re in love, aren’t you?

Max: I mean… yeah.

GP: I knew it. The cats knew it. Everyone knew it. Charles is gonna lose his mind.

Max: That’s a problem for future Max.

***

[limerlove]

FIND YOUR WINGS, VALENTINE

❝ VI!ONE SHOT ❞

pairing. roommate!vi x femcoded!reader x exsituationship!caitlyn

caitlyn kiramman, a woman who yearned to have her cake and eat it too. violet, a simple girl who has fallen for someone emotionally unavailable and you — trying to disperse between heartbreak and a new love.

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: 17k wc. bartender!reader, melvika cameos, lesbian sex, semi-public sex, mutual finger-off, anal play, shy!vi, caitlyn is a cunt (in this), unfaithful mentality, valentine's day aura?

rayray rambles, chat! we made it. truthfully, this fic got away from in so many ways and i'm proud of myself for reigning it in. this originally was going to be a new years eve fic but it got so impossibly long that i wanted some more time with it. but i hope you enjoy it, this is my latest baby and a lot of love was put into it. happy valentines ♡

— special thank you to my amazing proofreader reader, @meganegatari, plu, i love you dearly.

‪‪and to my love, @sinstear, thank you for always listening to me ramble. happy valentines bubba, ily. even though you've already read 85 percent of this bc i was so excited about it

You could still feel her.

Like it was just last night with her finger buried deep inside, pinning you against your front door with her slender fingers, the soft pad of her fingers stuffed inside your pants, making you see stars. A last ditch effort to keep you around. 

Caitlyn likes to chase but she becomes a bambi in headlights once she’s caught her prey. There was desperation for the last cry, a final effort to keep you around. You’d never seen such a progressive emotion from her. 

Before tonight, every moment; every word said seems transactional. 

The hauntingly blue windows of her soul look anywhere but you. You wonder if it's a tactic. Refusing to make eye contact when she’s most vulnerable. As if one glance at you would cost her the rest of her life, an outcome she can’t afford. 

These days, she’s afraid of her own shadow. Unable to look anyone in the eyes, her spirit crushed like she’s anywhere but here. When you try to pull her back to shore, she recedes even further. 

Nothing is good enough. 

Caitlyn makes it abundantly clear that you aren’t. Insults bite into your skin like a bullet, the blow never to your heart, the place you desperately want it to be. 

But for now, you lick your wounds and you let her have what she wants. Even if she’s fading from your grip, you can still hold her, you can still pretend she loves you the same way, and you can cry after she leaves. You wonder if she sees you for who you really are or if Caitlyn only sees what benefits her. 

It’s a cycle that keeps you here, entangled with a woman who doesn’t have the decency to let you go. If Caitlyn is half the woman you believe her to be, she would have mercifully kicked you out of her apartment. 

Then, there’s Vi.

Nothing with her is serious, not even physical, she just whines and dines you, she holds you like she loves you. Above everything else; Vi makes you forget. Even if it’s with a soft smile, a harmless joke that’s so stupid it makes you giggle — it’s a moment of peace. One you crave more than desolation. 

There’s a softness to her that Caitlyn doesn’t allow. You’re sure that’s why the two didn’t work out. Caitlyn is rough. Kind when she needs something, vengeful when you get in her way but when she seeks retribution for her sins, it’s entirely too late. 

Vi is everything Caitlyn isn’t, what she’s incapable of being — a simmering token of hope you keep close to your chest. 

The more you think about it, the more your stomach twists in knots over your neediness. Entertaining Violet so she can quench your emotional thirst. And keeping Caitlyn around in good faith, a blind faith you place in her, hoping that you’re not wrong. 

You can’t be wrong. 

Somehow she’ll change, right? 

“Why do you have to leave so soon?” Her accent bites into you like an icy river, devoid of emotion as she reveals what she really wants. A silky blue robe untied as her full breasts sit perfectly on her chest. 

Almost as if it’s muscle memory, your thumbs circle over her pink nipples, it buds under your touch and Caitlyn does what she does best. 

She grasps onto the reins of control, refusing to let go. 

With a firm hand, she applies pressure on the back of your neck, beckoning your mouth to find home on her perfect tits and they do. At the moment, you’re her favorite toy and she lets you play.

Plump lips latching on her nipple while your free hand squeezes the other, your tongue flicking over the sensitive nipple as your teeth graze over the sensitive skin, a gasp falling from Caitlyn’s lips. 

“Pretty girl just needs her mouth put to work. Give the other some attention, she’s feeling quite lonely.” 

Doing as you're told, your desperate drool collects on her chest as you bite the swell of her chest, before sucking on her other nipple as if she’s lactating. Then the idea of Caitlyn’s belly swollen makes you whimper, moaning into her skin as she runs a finger up her own slit, your eyes looking up at her as you suck, flick, and bite. 

As if your life depends on it. Maybe it did. 

“Come back to bed, babygirl. I need my perfect little slut. I can fuck you in the shower just the way you like.” 

The ammunition of her poisonous words might as well have penetrate your bloodstream. Displaced trust turns you into another toy for her to use. Trapped perpetually in a cycle you had a hand in enabling. Words full of steam leave a third-degree burn on your skin, not a single drop of blood to be found. 

But even if you want to pull back, you can’t. 

There’s no further arguments as you slip into the lion’s den. With soul-crushing desire, your bare chest presses against the fogged glass, Caitlyn using her favorite dildo as she fucks you into the wall of glass, a dignity you posses withers with each thrust. Perfectly manicured slim fingers pull at your hair as an arch to your back is forced. 

With each thrust she becomes more aggressive, her pace is punishing and it’s meant for you to fall in her hands. But you’re resisting, holding off the orgasm and the high that comes with it. The higher you fall, the harder you crash. You know Kirakiller won’t be there to catch you. 

You’ll burden the fall on your own. 

“Cait, please—” 

The slap of your stretched lips being thoroughly obliterated by her brutal cock can be heard throughout her apartment. She wants to make you come, that’s clear, but she also wants to break you. There’s nothing more a Kiramman loves, hearing you beg for mercy. To have the pathetic and whiny girl who blindly loves her, shattering at her grip. 

“That’s not my name. You fucking know it’s not. Good little sluts say it, don’t they?” 

Before you can even process it, she slaps your ass, three times, sending the orgasm raging through you. All Caitlyn does is fuck your pretty face into the glass as you take every inch of her. Then her pace halts as your heavy breath is heard over the shower. She turns the water off and you’re stuck there, unable to move.

Afraid. 

 Your heart would collapse right with you. 

Caitlyn moves swiftly, like a knight coming in the dead of knight to steal the princess. On all fours, she rummages through the cabinet before locating the precious wand. With a profound smirk, she grips the handle as if it’s an extension of her limb. 

“Looks like you’re getting punished today, babygirl. How do you wanna take it?”  

The lines blur together over the next few hours until you’re stumbling out of the apartment. Caitlyn not directly kicking you out of her home but your stay is only welcome for as long as the fucking window is open. It’s nearly three hours past midnight, tears in your eyes as you tread home with a gaping hole punctured with her sharpest end of her carefully placed blade. 

You wonder if she’s always been like this. Hot and hungry for power, ready to hurt anyone in order to get it. The angry flesh begs to be fed, and she gives in each time. Even when it means she sees the love depleted from your eyes, or when you refuse to make eye contact, or like tonight when she watches you hold in tears to escape out of her apartment. 

Some nights, you did want to be handled with a gentle hand but it’s not something Caitlyn gives. 

Anything more than a generous hand and greedy lips begging to lap at your cunt and Caitlyn comes up short. Living up to her name to the fullest. 

Kirakiller, they called her. 

There’s a dozen reasons for her name. How she slaughters everyone on the pitch,  academically she’ll make you feel inferior to her own privileged, private education prior to university. How she kills your spirit if you aren’t someone she sees as an exceptional academic student for Piltover University. 

All of it seems to be a game for her. With Cassandra Kiramman as the dean, the board members sit heavily in her overflowing pocket, she runs things as she sees fit. Her daughter being taken care of and on top of the world is her number one priority. There’s been a dozen to come after the Kiramman’s and none have been successful. Murmurs of corruption grace the hallowed halls but not a soul dares to challenge the wealth and power of the prestigious bloodline of the Kirammans.  

Caitlyn “Kirakiller” Kiramman associating with someone who was merely on scholarship wasn't in Cassandra’s plans. Even if you didn’t even know it yet, you were too low on the totem pole to be associated with the future of a daunting legacy. An entire life laid out for Cait before she even took her first breath. 

It was dumb to buzz her up to the apartment. Even more idiotic to respond to her texts in the first place but besides all her failed attempts, she still tries to worm her way through your heart to take what she believes is owed. Just like last week, you let her. 

She leaves when you pretend to fall asleep after, the two of you telling yourselves it’ll be the last time, but it won’t be. 

It’s a vicious cycle, one has your insides spinning, your stomach churning and your heart aching. But you’re too weak to end. It’s a tale as old as time. You want something more and Caitlyn can’t be bothered to be committed to the wrong type of girl. 

It’s all about appearances and you’re not good enough. 

Cassandra, the respectable dean and the mother who is the puppeteer of her daughter’s life, behind the scenes pulling the strings in order to maintain image, status. She holds it closer than her own blood; a need for her bloodline to prosper and Dean Kiramman will trample anyone’s heart to complete the task. 

Whether she wants to fight against her mother’s future or not? You didn’t know. 

Truly, you never know what she wants, besides getting herself off or getting you off, Caitlyn was stuck between a world she’s born for and one that’s decided for her. A child acting out but waiting until college to do so. 

Kirakiller. 

That’s what they called her. Ruthless in all of her conquests, never calling back, never fucking the same girl again, it wasn’t something Kirakiller did. She used, abused, and moved onto the next one. 

But for some reason, she’s incredibly stuck on you. 

The new year puts you at a distance when Cait refuses to bring you home for the holidays. Of course, the fight rages as soon as she’s done fucking you. 

“What do you think this is?” 

“You tell me.” 

There’s a look in your eyes, gleaming and sorrowful, the rejection crystal clear. That’s all any of this has been. A severe procrastination tactic to put off what you want, her. 

What makes it worse is Caitlyn knows it but she’s still here, trying, and who the hell knows why. 

Hope. A poor woman’s faith guts you, ripping your insides of love and prosperity. In your line of vision, you just see claws tearing at your skin, all flesh raw and bleeding as she begs for more. 

A wish that you hope for every time you see her. This time she’ll choose differently, she’ll be kind this time. I’ll be enough to love. This will be the moment. 

But when she doesn’t, the accent you love so much burns you at the stake, you’re screaming on deaf ears. Begging for her to hear just one, but she snuffs you out. Like the moonlight you bring, she pretends you don’t call to her like the moon pulls the tide. 

Instead, you’re met with Caitlyn’s greed. 

“Why do I think this is? I expect some basic level of human compassion but you’ve forgotten that too. I’ve always given you the benefit of the doubt. Even when everyone tells me you’re fucking other girls besides me, even when I see with my own eyes how you act when you think I’m not around. You clearly don’t respect me. Every time I’ve tried to have this conversation, you avoid me. Do you think I deserve that?” 

“There is nothing to even discuss. This is nothing.” Her accent is sharp, cutting right through your heart. A woman you love too deeply reaffirming how little she thinks of you. 

Dismissal. 

Absence. 

You are nothing, might as well have fallen from her lips. 

Her heart is ice cold,  her piercing eyes bite like the bitter wind of winter. A slim view of fire rattling within her dark blue eyes, pupils dilate so much they practically turn black. 

You feel your stomach tense, the pit in your stomach has once returned, denying you of what feels so real to you. 

It’s just a game for her. 

Always a game Caitlyn has to win. 

“Fine. Then leave. But don’t come back next time, don’t text me when you’re lonely or horny, don’t call me when everyone else won’t hear you out. Forgot about me and let’s be done with it, yeah? Go back to those girls you love to fuck so much. The ones that are bright, shiny, untouched by your venomous heart.” 

“I will. They sure will be a hell of a lot better lay than you, maybe they’ll let me fuck their ass.” 

You scoff but your expression is stone cold as you watch her struggle to pull her clothes on. There’s no sudden movements made. Certainly no apologies. 

Once Caitlyn fully dresses, she waits there as if you’ll change your mind. A wish she’s so desperately hanging onto as your eyes remain cold. A shiver is sent up her spine — you’d never been more ruthless — and for the first time her chest feels tight at the loss of you. 

“It’s what you want. A pretty rich thing your mother will accept and the control in the bedroom you need since the real Kiramman controls every aspect of your life, even your love life. Good luck, you’ll need it.” 

“You’ll come begging back, you always do.” 

You want to choke Caitlyn with the smirk she’s currently wearing. 

“We’ll see about that, Kirakiller. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.” 

In an instant her face drops, her acute lips turning into a frown, cursing under her breath before she finally slams the door. It’s only then do you allow yourself to scream into your pillow, agony coursing through you, desperation, and most of all — a rage that wouldn’t be quenched. 

—

The fairy lights, softly winking at you each time the sequence goes off. Violet craved to put them up around Christmas but never bothered to take them down. Perfectly, they fit with your shared home. The small apartment stuck between the suburbs and the city, close enough to campus where it was only a short drive, the two of you carpooling or Vi moving her schedule around to drop you off. 

It happened to work out for the two of you. You didn’t think you’d get to be so lucky. Finding a decent roommate is a tall order, but now the two of you are inseparable and you couldn’t imagine your life any different. 

If not for her, you didn’t think you'd survive spending the holidays alone. 

Caitlyn made sure to isolate you but Violet holds you close.  

The memory of new years solidifies the budding infatuation growing within you; as much as it excites you, it sends a freezing shiver down your spine. Like a bitter winter to an evergreen bush, who knows if it’ll last the season without one moment to be basked in the sun. 

— 

New Years Eve, 2024. 

Sevika nursing an old fashioned. Trying to avoid the smell of cheap corona and budweiser intruding her relaxed nostrils as Mel sips on a glass of wine. Her smaller frame leans into Sevika’s arm looped through hers as their hips nearly become conjoined. They watch as Violet watches you. You’re standing there alone, fending off a few women who try to make a move on you. 

Whispers of your former fling, Caitlyn Kiramman make their way across campus, the colossal cunt raging her anger during practice. Just as you’ve been reminded by her teammates who blame you for her toddler tantrum. Violet’s heart sinks to her chest as she watches Caitlyn make a straight shot for you. 

The second she entered the room, Violet could feel the dread filling her body. Half because seeing her reminds her of all the horrors, everything she let Caitlyn do to her. Now, Caitlyn’s moved on to her next victim and she wonders if you’ll ever truly escape from her. 

“Do you think we should–” Vi speaks softly, a murmur she didn’t intend for anyone else to hear. “...interrupt?” 

“Calm down, casanova.” Sev interjects letting the whiskey soothe her throat. 

“Easy for you to say, coupled up love birds.” Vi rolls her eyes as she watches the scene unfold before her. 

The light in her eyes cracks, like a sparkler losing its flame. Each time Caitlyn attempts to worm back in your life, you’ve always let her. Even when she’s the last person who deserves even a moment of your time. It takes anything in her not to wince when you let Caitlyn touch your arm but after a moment you push her off. 

Well, that’s new. 

“You should go over there.” Mel chimes in, “Caitlyn would surely run for the hills then. She’s all bark but no bite.” 

“Go be her knight in shining armor.” Sev says it like it’s a bad thing, her sarcasm biting into the air. 

All Vi continues to scratch away at the label unraveling from the condensation, just as her heart rips each time Caitlyn gets closer to you. It’s a strange feeling. Her ex-girlfriend and the person she loves. Nearly spiteful her heart becomes, almost wanting to fling herself off a bridge. It’s more than Vi wishes to deal with and she tells herself she won’t. 

You’re not worth the trouble, she’s just making her feelings bigger than they actually are, right? 

Whatever Caitlyn says pisses you off enough to throw your drink in her face, coating her from hot to toe in the vodka cranberry Vi had made for you earlier in the night. 

“You’ll eat those actions, babygirl. Next time, it’ll be you who is soaked and we both know it.” 

Caitlyn screams for all to hear as she checks you with her shoulder before heading upstairs. 

It’s five minutes before midnight and Violet watches as you crumble, running outside, needing to catch some air. You need something to make you feel less suffocated. Even with a drink thrown in her face, Caitlyn still finds a way to get an upper hand. 

“Vi, would you be a dear and check on her? Sev and I will be there in a sec.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Violet sees you in the corner of her eye, trying not to break down, but she notices the tears threatening to spill. 

“Don’t look so glum princess or you’re going to make me cry and nobody wants to see that.”  The lightness of her tone makes you chuckle. Vi’s trying to make you laugh and she succeeds. 

Everyone pours outside as the clock strikes closer to midnight, Mel and Sevika come out but they keep their distance. Vi kneels at your feet, gently wiping the tears away you finally let fall. The small hiccups leaving your chest as you feel inadequate, wondering if anyone would miss you if you just melted away — not a single trace of you to be found. 

“She makes me feel so small, even when I leave, she wants more of me. I have nothing left to give.” You sob, hands shaking as you make fists trying to stabilize yourself. “No one understands how…how fucking awful and addicting she is.” 

“I do.” 

“Of course you, Violet. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. She’s just…” 

“Frustrating?” You nod, trying to laugh off the heartbreak but the familiar glee doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“And now I’m alone, on new years.” You say, cursing at the premature fireworks illuminating the sky. “While she goes to shag whoever wants to clean the vodka cranberry with their tongue.” 

I want to taste the cranberry on yours. 

Violet doesn’t speak those words. It’s just a dream — one that only drips in her mind until her thoughts pull at her like a pomegranate as it sheds from the skin. 

“She’s an idiot for letting you go. Anyone here knows that.” 

“Really? Funny ‘cause I’m here single. Caitlyn just wants me to crawl back to her with me on all fours just so she can say, i told you so, in that insufferable English accent. God, I wanna rip it from her throat.” 

“Then don’t give her the satisfaction.” 

“Easier said than done.” You say as everyone counts down from ten, “At least we still have each other.” 

Vi smiles, her powder-blue eyes sweet on you. There’s nothing more she wants than to kiss you. But Vi will screw the both of you if she moves too quickly. 

3…2…1! 

The buzz of the party reaches an all-time high and you’ve never felt so close to hell. Watching as everyone kisses the person they love, the gleeful-holiday making them smile as they wrap in the warmth of their partner. Vi sees how sad you are, how close you are to breaking, so she does something stupid. An action that will only get her heart in all kinds of trouble. 

Nearly almost planting her lips on yours, but saves herself with a peck to the apple of your cheeks. 

She blushes and you smile. 

She considers it to be a win when she gets a positive reaction from you. That’s all she really wants, to hear you laugh and you do. 

Again. 

The both of you speak nothing of it, the heartache too heavy and the love in Violet’s eyes too bright. You rest your head against her shoulder as the both of you watch the fireworks shining the midnight sky — it feels awfully like a fresh start. 

God knows you could use one. 

— 

The last thing you want is to miss her but you do. 

Longing instilled the moment she infected your blood; making each beat of your heart consistently flow for her. You couldn’t admit it, not her or yourself. It’s what she counts on. For you to slip, to venture back into the lion’s just so she can gut you from root to stem. 

With your finger hovering over her number for the past few weeks, each time, nearly a moment from giving back into her needs. Not once had she called, texted, or even looked at your way. Not even when she sat across from you in the library last Monday. Before her tongue found home in the girl who threw herself in Caitlyn’s lap. Promptly deciding that was enough studying for the day. 

The nights are the worst, you stay secluded in your room, tired of thinking about her and everything that’s transpired. How much you miss her, how much you love her — wondering if you ever should have — and how much you clung to this version of her that maybe just never existed. 

It isn’t until Vi tries to get you out of the house that you realize how heartbroken you actually feel. How unbearable it would be to do anything but the bare minimum that’s expected for you to survive. 

“C’mon, it won’t be bad.” Vi throws herself in bed with you, “You’re with me you’ll have a fantastic time.” 

Vi cheekily smiles, “Plus, I can’t go without you. Those are the rules.” 

“Oh really?” She nods, the sincerity reaching her eyes so blindingly, it makes the swell in your chest ache. 

“Basically the law, so if you don’t want me to handcuff you, you’ll listen.” 

Raising an eyebrow at the question, you watch her as your roommate goes into the closet and comes out with three dresses back in hand. 

“You always look, um u-uh, really pretty in these.” 

Violet’s always been like this. Unsure, a little bit flirty, and with a heart so gentle you would be too afraid to hold it in the palm of your hand. All it took was one introduction from Sevika and the two of you instantly clicked. 

You cooked at the housewarming party for Mel and Sevika, in the middle of having a breakdown when you didn’t have crucial ingredients you thought you did have. It’s when Violet came to your rescue. Already in the kitchen watching you nearly have a panic attack over not being better prepared, she instantly grabbed the keys to her truck, off to assist. 

With your former roommate flaking out after the second semester in your apartment off campus, and Violet coming off a messy breakup, the two of you helped each other out. 

“Which one is your favorite?” It’s an innocent question. 

It really is. 

Then you remember the last time you wore it, Violet unable to keep her eyes off you when she thought you weren’t looking or how she would meet your eyes when you caught her staring. Dramatically clearing her throat as she scratches the nape of her neck, bashfully blushing. 

“The black one. You always look beautiful, any of them really. That one is just my favorite.” 

Feeling the fabric of the silk dress, the neckline is plunging and the back is open until it reaches your lower back and you don't dare bend down to pick up anything in this little number. 

“Someone’s being sweet tonight.” You smile softly, kissing her cheek before you disappear into the bathroom. It’s long before you come out, but when you’re ready Vi nearly has to do a double take. 

Visibly, she gulps. 

Fuck, she forgot how amazing you look in that dress. 

“Where’s it at this time?” 

“You remember Natalie?” 

“Oh?” 

“It’s not—” 

“I didn’t say it was.” But you’re smirking and Vi has no other option but to groan into her hands. 

“You were thinking about it.” Harmlessly, you shrug. 

“Regardless, it’s some new girl who’s gonna be on the team this season. It’s kind of a get together before the season starts.” 

“You’re taking me to the kick-off banquet?” Vi winces as your voice shrieks, slightly piercing her eardrum in the process. 

“Uh,” Vi runs a hand through her vibrant, messy head of hair. “Uh, yeah. It’s really not a big deal.” 

“So, why not Natalie?” 

“Does it matter?” Vi counters. She becomes uncomfortable about how she would have to answer the question. There wasn’t a way for her to answer without fully exposing herself so she pulls at her cuticles until she’s slightly bleeding before she stuffs them inside her pockets. 

She doesn't want to have the conversation, and honestly, neither do you. 

“The she-devil won’t be there. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? One night for yourself, there’s a little dancing, we can have a couple of drinks—” 

“Y-You’ll dance with me…in front of everyone?” You sound more unsure of yourself than you ever have. The words are foreign on your tongue as if you’re speaking another language. 

“Is that a statement or a question?” Vi chuckles before she stands up from your bed, “Give me ten minutes and we’ll head out. We can stop and get some burgers. The food they cater is ass anyways. All that money from the snobby rich parents and Piltover University can’t even splurge on anything decent.” 

It doesn’t take long before she’s emerging into the living room, her white button up has the top three buttons undone, the tattoos creeping on the outside of her neck visible as does her name she has on her cheek. The one you chastise her for consistently. 

“You ready?” Violet stuffs her essentials in her deep pockets before taking you in. 

“Yeah, I think so, I was just waiting for you.” 

She seriously has to assume your exes are severely ill for ever letting you out of their sight. Violet despises how rapid the beat of her heart is, how shaky her hands become when she offers a hand to help you off the couch. Only two nights ago, it was the two of you cuddled up, Vi shrieking in fear from your favorite horror film. 

The terror in her powder-blue eyes made you laugh. Violet sees it as a big enough consolation for her downright distress. 

You’re too gorgeous for your own good. 

She may be pushing her luck tonight. Even pulling you out of bed makes her feel slightly accomplished. Between work and class, your mattress has been your chosen place to nurse your heartache. A few of your friends had been in and out, trying to get you to grab a fresh breath of air, or find the bottom of a bottle of tequila but all had failed. 

“You look….” You bite your lip, watching as your eyes drag over her frame, overwhelmed by just how well she cleans up. 

“That bad, huh?” Violet smirks as she makes her way over to you, and with your heels, she can’t help but admire your height. She supposes she does have a type. Who can blame her? 

“Something like that.” Your face is burning, the world doesn’t seem so bleak when she locks the door with one hand, her left warm-calloused hand holding yours in a firm grip. 

“How do I look?” You do a twirl, there’s a smile you try to contain when her eyes drag over you, taking all the time in the world as open the door to her truck, guiding you inside. 

“You look beautiful but that’s no surprise, princess.” 

The drive is quiet. Violet itches to place the palm of her hand on your thigh but she resists. With a quiet mind, she listens as you ramble about a new album you listened to earlier and she hands you her phone so you can play it. Immediately, you’re bewildered at the trust. 

Caitlyn wouldn’t even let you use her phone when yours died. Ordering the uber herself as she left you on the curb as she took her sports car and faded into the intersecting street. 

It’s only a twenty minute drive to the diner and the red neon sign greets you, the outside wall painted in a pastel-yellow, it’s gaudy and nearly unpleasant to the eye but there’s the charm about it. Zaun outlasted the gentrification of the corporate pollution, still one of the only places to remain standing and family owned. 

You’re led to a booth where you both take a seat, glancing over the menu as you decide what you want, trying to make a decision in your mind is something that drowns you like a misty fog at the crack of dawn. 

Finally you settle on a burger and so Violet. The conversation is easy with her. Everything seems to flow with a simpleness you find yourself reaching for. Like the last copy of your favorite book at the library, you crave to wrap your fingers around the crispy edges, sinking your smell into the spine of a new novel. Where the beginning feels like a first kiss — blissful notions of someone new — when the thought of love doesn’t seem so jarring. 

Before you’re terrified of getting your heart shattered into a million pieces. Before love morphs into something violent, you turn to Violet and you wonder if she’s ever been scared to love. Does it come easy for her? Would she let herself go for the right person? You feel too broken to ever let yourself fall that freely again. 

But she has blue eyes, a scar on her upper lip making her more charming, and tattoos adorning her back that only attribute to the surface level of her allure.  

Shortly after you sink into your thoughts, ones you don’t believe you should even have, you're ravaging your burger when Violet notices the attention you're getting. It’s obvious. To everyone. But you just talk to her about anything but the elephant in the room, you’re so chatty tonight she might even think you’re nervous. 

But it’s Vi. There’s nothing to ever be nervous about. 

Nothing at all. 

“God, this was such a good call. Who knew I needed to bury my sorrows in a pound of grease.” 

“Carbs. They are a beautiful thing.” Vi winks, you chunk a fry at her but she catches it in her mouth. 

You finish your food in silence, Vi smiling as she takes another sip from the cane-sugar coca cola. The sweetness of the syrup  coats the back of her throat as she watches you watch her. She wants to say something but the timing is wrong. She wonders if you see a future or a rebound, maybe even just a friend, only time can tell and Vi fears she would wait a lifetime waiting for you to figure it out. 

It’s how she loves. Free, without restrictions, even if she still mourns the love she once had burned to flames — you make her forget it all. Renewed in holy water, she basks in a touch that hasn’t scorned her, freely washing her of past sins.  

“What happened to Natalie? I thought things were good.” 

“For a time, yeah.” Violet says something without saying much. 

“Vi, are you being coy?” 

The blush coats her cheeks as she tries to shy away from the conversation. She feels the heat from your attention, the way her heart beats a million times per second as you have her cornered. Different in a way she would typically imagine when you came to mind. Even if she does try to stop herself, Vi can’t help but wonder about you and if you would feel the same way she does. 

If you do and just aren’t allowing yourself to let go of the wall you have up in the horrendous shape of Caitlyn Kiramman.  

The way you pry, your bold eyes slightly squinting at her as if you’re already figuring out the self-righteousness of the sinner. Secrets she hides under lock and key but even on a good day, the confession bubbles on her tongue as she catches herself choking on her own spit. You’re always so careful of the questions you leave hanging in the air. 

In a moment of frustration, Violet thinks of how Caitlyn’s manipulative patterns may have sinked into your brain. She knows that much — the blue-haired witch has done the same to her. Making you question everyone’s motives, wondering if anyone could ever be truthful. 

But others can. 

Caitlyn can’t. 

Vi distracts herself, avoids the question even if it is just a second to recollect her thoughts, a minute to buy time and divert from this conversation. It’s a truth she doesn't want unraveled. 

“What’s the saying? Don’t kiss and tell.” She grumbles as she stuffs her face with another bite of the beefy patty. “But we just didn’t work out s’all. Plus, I’m not looking for anything serious I guess. She was.” 

Another lie but Vi keeps her lips tight. She doesn’t need you to know why her latest attempt at a relationship blew up in her face, catastrophically. 

“Maybe you and Kirakiller should date again.” You tease. 

“Take that back. She’s the devil’s spawn and I’m still sorry you learned the difficult way. Just like me.” 

“Well, she definitely lives up to the name.” 

“I wish she would have changed her ways. You didn’t deserve to get hurt at all and especially by her.” Violet reaches across the table, soothing the back of your hand, rubbing circles into your skin. The action is sweet, lighting your skin ablaze with goosebumps as you watch her show affection, especially where other people can see. 

At the moment, you want to be claimed by her. Marked as Violet’s girl and you would be proud to be. You close the thought from your mind as soon as it opens. This isn’t a date. Just because Violet flirts doesn’t mean she’s interested. The two of you are roommates. 

Pull yourself together. 

Jesus Christ. 

She knows how much everyone can’t stop looking at you. The diner, outside the gas station even when Vi told you to stay in the car, and then the banquet. But you latched onto her, practically glued to her side as new sponsors came to speak with the new head captain. Vi’s nursing a beer when the music hits and she grins. 

“Are you ready for this?” 

What is she talking about? 

Vi latches her hand with yours as she pulls you to the open floor, only a few couples begin to lightly sway to the classical being played. It’s different from what she was used to but she was nothing if not resourceful. 

“I don’t bluff, princess, and I certainly don’t lie.” Vi tugs you close as you make no arguments, she leads as you find shining faith in her eyes. 

It’s a new feeling, unfamiliar as it courses through your body. Vi isn't ashamed of you, as a friend, as a roommate; she’s full of warmth when she glances at you. Sending a sense of belonging through your skin, a home you want to throw yourself in before the foundation has even been laid. 

Violet’s too good at this. You secretly love it but you pretend like you hate it. As if getting attention from someone as kind and hot as her is a bad thing. It’s nearly too much, almost making you sick with how much you’re enjoying being held by someone who actually wants to hold you. 

She’s not playing chess and using you as a pawn. 

It’s a recurring thought you have to remind yourself of, she’s not Caitlyn. 

Violet doesn’t make promises she doesn’t keep, she doesn’t say careless compliments to only have sex with you. With a firm palm on your back, calluses kissing your spine, she’s looking at you — so much so it feels as if she’s looking right through you. 

 “You don’t have to—” She twirls you around before you can protest, guiding you back into her gentle care. 

Vi shrugs, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me princess but I’d never go back on my word.” 

The other couples start to move on the dance floor as each song blends into the next. 

“That’s refreshing.” 

Violet hand placed on your exposed back feels so warm it nearly burns her skin. Leaning in, leaning her head against yours. You smell of vanilla and something else entirely too sweet, maybe jasmine or fresh lilies. The delicate breath kissing your neck feels tempting. You would never consider yourself to be a siren, but with each promise laced up in your tongue, you wish to serenade her into a future with you. 

“So are you, sweetheart.” Violet pulls away just enough to look at you, her temple presses against yours. 

You can hear the shake in her breath, her grip around her back tightening like she’s trying to restrain herself. But she doesn’t restrain, she leans in, the tip of her pierced nose kissing yours. If either of you moved an inch forward, your lips could taste hers. 

Is her chapstick cherry, strawberry, or maybe even blueberry? They look irresistible as the glisten, you need to crave the ache deriving from your bones. Violet has itched herself into every part of your life and she’s the only one to make you feel a sliver of joy again. 

“We should…” The dazed woman doesn’t even know what she’s pleading for. This is all she’s been wanting but somehow her heart is pulling away, terrified to be crushed under the unforgiving weight of rejection. 

“Yeah.” You say. Somehow understanding what she wishes for, silently you’re able to see her exposed skin, raw to the notion of a love dying to bloom in the beginning of spring. 

Violet kisses your cheek again and somehow you feel the warmth of the fresh season. In the February rain, there is still sunshine spilling over the clouds — washing you in hope again. 

— 

The rest of your life fell back in place as if she never existed, except the ache in your heart that wouldn’t stop. You did your best to ignore it. Word got around Caitlyn went back to fiercely fucking. Apparently instead of sleeping just once a week while she was with you, she went back to her ever-growing appetite, nearly every night. It isn’t too difficult for her; not when there’s a line of women waiting to be at her beck and call. 

You threw yourself into your studies, picking more shifts at the bar and hoping she doesn’t pull any of her usual stunts, showing up drunk and begging to fuck. 

One more time, baby. This could be good for the both of us. 

Caitlyn uprooted the past semester of uni and she didn’t even have the decency to apologize. All your friends with a knowing look of — I told you so — without actually dispersing the words from their tongue. It feels too much like a blurry dream but Sevika is good at making you smile. Even if you wanna throw yourself against a wall until the memory of Kirakiller fades for good. 

The night had been busier than expected but nothing you and Sevika couldn’t handle. Even if there’s an ache in your knees, the muscles in your shoulders strained, it feels nice to just work. Everything flees your mind, all the insecurities bubbling inside you escaping to get out. The emotions you’re attempting to keep at bay and failing. 

“You good, kid?” 

“Yeah, life’s just a shit fire. Nothing new.” 

Continuing to wipe the bar down for new customers, you clean off some glasses in front of you, as you dry your hands on a clean towel before tending to the other side of the bar. 

The rest of the night comes to you in a blur. You’re flirty enough with the men to ensure a nice tip but when one tries to get too handsy, you tell them to fuck off or Sevika will throw them out. They eye up her frame as she makes her way over, height hitting at over six feet, her muscles visible through the fitted black tank she chose tonight. If you didn’t know any better, she would terrify you. 

“Got a problem here?” 

“I’m not sure, what about you boys? Do you think there’s an issue?” 

With a quick shake to their heads, they take a nervous sip of their beer and the rest of the night goes along swimmingly. It’s last call when you spot the familiar pink-haired roommate, nursing her second bottle of beer it seems. 

“How long has she been here?” 

“Came during the rush for you, but didn’t wanna bother you. She’s been waiting for a few hours.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your tone goes high and squirrelly, murderous eyes finding her glimmering, silver eyes. 

“Well, it's only Vi, right?” Sevika smirks. 

That itself was a loaded question. If you’d been asked six months ago, it would have been a flat friend but now Vi had somehow turned into a friend. The almost-kiss you’ve been having dreams about. How she would kiss you — would it be tender — or would she be depraved about it in a way that would have you bruising your knees at the speed of lighting. 

“Stop that. Vi is as harmless as a puppy.” 

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” 

“Wasn’t Kirakiller here last month waiting for you and you didn’t bat an eye? Plus, the only thing she seems to be jealous of is Vi. The diva had a meltdown when she saw Vi picking you up after the end of your shift last week, or that’s just what I heard.” 

“Mel needs to stop telling you so much.” 

“Pillow talk. It’s a beautiful thing. Isn’t it?” 

Rolling your eyes, you throw your apron at her, collecting your tips for the night. Vi still looks innocent as ever, Gert making friendly conversation with her as you just watch her. Her thick, wool beanie matches her hair and you can’t help but think of how cute she looks. Her fingerless gloves you always chastise her about, doing very little to keep her warm. 

You knew she had a date tonight. Hell, it makes you nervous why she’s even here. Racking your brain with some excuse to get you out of this. What’s so important she couldn’t wait until you got home? She waits up for you every night. Doesn’t let herself fall asleep until she hears the familiar jingle of your keys outside the door. Pretending to read the book in her hands like she’s casually perched on the couch at three in the morning for any other reason. 

“Well, she’s one of the good ones and I’m not.” 

You’re frustrated as you split the tips, handing Sevika her half. Things with Vi had been more than complicated. You weren’t sure if you were over Caitlyn but you also knew things with Vi were getting closer to an edge you couldn’t come back from.

The flashbacks of the banquet you attended as her plus one just a few weeks ago haunt you. Her lips so close to yours, the hitch in her breath and whimper you let out that stopped it all. 

You would be an idiot to ruin the best friend you’ve ever had. A deep secret buried in your mind tells you how much of a bigger idiot you would be if you let her slip right through your fingers. 

“Doesn’t matter if you are or not. She sees something in you. Count yourself lucky. Oh, and before you head off Mel wants to invite you over for Valentine’s. Some big party she’s throwing. You know how she is. Be there or she’ll come and find you if you resist.” 

The wink Sevika sends you is insufferable. Similar to her attitude this entire night. 

“Yeah yeah, tell Mel I’ll be there.” 

“Now that’s the loving spirit, lovergirl.” 

You make your way over and Gert’s hand is touching Vi’s forearm, a look in your eyes that sends an annoying pit to your stomach. Gert’s eyes flutter and her smirk is evident but Vi only gulps when you make your way over. 

Gert may just take your attitude for tiredness but Vi knows better. Your two seconds from blowing up the way your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding as you fight to act like a complete and utter cunt. Vi’s a very pretty girl. Women flirt with her all the time. It’s not anything you didn’t know but to see it up and close was new for you. 

As was the jealousy practically sprouting out of you. 

“Well call me, yeah?” Gert’s eyes sparkle, dodging you entirely as she walks away and into the back. 

Violet gulps as it’s just the two of you. 

“Why are you here?” You snip, arms crossed over your chest, unknowingly making your cleavage even more apparent. “Sev says you’ve been here for hours.” 

“I came to see you but you looked busy.” 

“Mhm, yeah. Busy. You look awfully busy.” 

“Don’t do that.” 

But you ignore her. 

You rolled your eyes, the irritation raging within you. Fucking Gert. You drunkenly told her about your confusing feelings for Vi and she took that as Vi's single. It’s slim pickings out there but fuck, did Vi have to entertain it right in front you? 

But you didn’t like to think about how she did. You weren’t dating, you weren’t fucking, you essentially were just roommates who cuddled sometimes, or went on these almost dates with and almost kissed. 

Vi hasn't been dating since Natalie but she’s free to do as she pleases. It’s a colossal hit to your pride but you can’t be mad. You are, but you can’t be. 

You really cannot be doing this. 

Vi is just a friend. Only a friend. That’s it.  

“I’m going but Gert will be off soon. Goodnight, Vi.” 

It’s short and not so sweet. Swiftly turning around as you are practically running out the door. The chill of February hits you first and then you hear Vi and her voice calling after you but you just keep walking. Hoping she’ll give up and go back. You’re a lost cause, anyone with eyes can see it. 

“Would you stop running away?” You turn around and Vi is so close that she runs into you, her arms wrapping around your waist to stop you from falling. “Jesus, are you insane? It’s fucking freezing out here. I don’t care if you’re mad right now, I’m driving us home.” 

“Violet, let me—” 

“No. You’re not getting sick. It’s past midnight. It’s not safe. We are not arguing about this.” You pout as she holds your hand and practically drags you back to her black truck. Opening the door for you as you get in, shutting the door once you’re situated before she gets in on the other side. 

Igniting the engine, it revs on and while the car warms up Vi sighs, rather loudly. She’s always good about waiting until she calms down to speak. Letting the anger roll off her, the frustration you’re sure was caused by you. She slides the beanie off her head as the car reaches a normal temperature and runs her fingers through beautiful pink strands being kissed by the light of the moon. 

The natural fluff to the strands is restored, no longer inflated by the beanie you had embroidered her full name on. You can’t keep your eyes off of her. She must feel it because Vi catches your gaze and instantly her eyes go soft. It’s too much so you turn your eyes away; focusing on the snow falling on the windshield. 

“What’s going on? I’ve been patient for weeks but something changed and you’re not telling me.” 

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” 

“The truth would be a good place to start.” 

Vi sighs, again, when you’re silent. No smartass rebuttal, no snide remark, not even an exasperated curse underneath your breath. Complete and utter silence.

But you feel trapped.

You’re terrified. Vi is too warm, loving, and painfully-pure. She might not know it, but she’s the girl you come back for. The one who you bring home to meet the family, the one who will bring you breakfast in bed when you feel under the weather and the one who will make sure you feel loved every single day. 

When other people figure that out, if Gert does, it’s over for you. Because maybe it was foolish, pathetic, and possibly tragic but you were just trying to sort yourself out long enough to see if you want those things with her. Now, it’s only a matter of time before she dotes on someone else who can give her everything she deserves. 

You should let her have this, it’s far better than her pleading eyes begging for something you’re not sure you can give. Caitlyn broke pieces you're not sure are repairable, parts of yourself that can’t be put back together. You didn’t even realize you had been crying until Vi’s wiping away your tears. 

The pad of her thumb is careful as she wipes all the tears away. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, princess. It’s just you and me.” 

“I-I can’t. It’s too…I just can’t.” You confess, sniffling as you try and calm yourself down. 

Vi guides you into the crook of neck as she does her best to hold you over the middle console of her truck. “It’s okay, princess. Shh, I’m right here.” It’s then that your sobs wrack your body and Vi decides she needs you as close as possible. Using her strength, she brings you into her lap, wrapping her tight arms around you as you sob into her neck. Salty tears stain Vi’s neck but she really doesn’t care. 

All she cares about is you. 

“It’s about Kiramman, isn't it?” 

Vi can’t hide her disdain for the woman. That much is clear as day. Whatever happened with the two of them burned deep. 

“Maybe murder isn’t such a bad thing.” 

“Vi.” You chuckle half heartedly. 

“There’s that smile..” You lift your head from the safety of her warmth, pressing your forehead against hers. Your breath is heavy on her lips, staring at the beautiful scar, the plumpness to her lips practically staring right at you. Close enough to see the constellations of freckles littered across her full cheeks. 

Your timing is awful but your heart gives into Violet’s gaze, lips falling closer together to hers. 

“Don’t make it like this.” Vi whispers, her powder-blue eyes gleaming at you. 

“What?” 

“Don’t kiss me for the first time because you’re sad about her. I can’t be her runner up. I’ve been playing that for too long.” 

“I won’t kiss you, not if you don’t want me to.” 

The tears are still fresh, but this need churning within you isn’t. Since the moment you met Vi, you’ve been fighting it. Fighting this. 

“Fuck, I do but,” Vi stalls when you unzip her leather jacket, revealing her wrapped chest, abs on display. “Shit, princess.” 

Fingers playing with the button of her trousers, waiting for her to push you away but she doesn’t. She does nothing of the sort. Vi’s breath is heavier than you’ve ever heard it. Looking down at your hands, waiting for you to pull the trigger on all of this. It’s then you realize Vi is letting you have all the control. If this is going to happen, she wants you to take it. It’s different from what you’re used to. 

A choice. 

It’s more than you could have expected. Vi isn’t pushing you away, isn’t telling you to stop. Not when you unbutton her pants and not when you suck on your fingers before slipping them beneath her boxers, feeling the soft curls and wondering if they match the drapes, before your fingers get perfectly acquainted with her. 

“Oh fuck—” Vi curses as she grabs onto your ass, lifting the short skirt you’ve been wearing all night, rucking it up to your hips as she sinks her nails into the skin. 

When you slip inside her, she clenches around your fingers, fucking her hips into your pace and Vi struggles to contain the whimpers. They flow out of her like a tidal wave. She’s been thinking about this moment with you for so long, just you and her — it’s the only thing Vi wants. 

When Vi saw you tonight she thought it was absolutely ridiculous for you to wear this strapless top, only because your nipples poked through the small fabric, but now she’s grateful you did. It’s easy to slip as she sucks a pierced nipple into her mouth. Her tongue plays with the barbell, causing you to groan as she pinches and delicately pulls at the other. As Vi kitten licks your nipple, she finds home on your ass again, before ripping your panties off. 

Her mouth is eager, hot, as she won’t stop giving attention to your chest. You’ve never wanted to kiss her more. 

“Can you take two, princess?” 

Eagerly you nod, a yearning yes falls from your lips. Vi doesn’t waste a beat. 

You try to fuck Vi harder, but she doubles down on her efforts, her fingers so deep and you feel so full. Trying to chase the high, you ride her fingers, almost as if you were riding her, your ass unable to stop humping against her. It’s just the two of you, a silent competition to get the other one off first and you can feel Vi winning. Then she’s extending her thumb, rubbing circles on your clit, and you know you’ve lost. 

“That’s it, just like that princess.” 

“Vi, Vi, baby, oh my godddddd—” 

Vi’s purely evil with every thrust of her fingers but she’s so full of light, an angel sent to you in your darkest hour. Batting her long eyelashes at you while she suckles on your bouncing tits, knuckle deep inside you as she gives you everything to just take. She’s too beautiful to look away from. With her pupils dilated, her blue eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them. Letting off your perfect tits with an obnoxious pop, she kisses up your sternum as she marks you with her lips everywhere but the place you actually want. 

But then her words revere in your mind once again. 

Don’t make it like this. 

“Look at me.” 

Eyes drifting back to her as she curls her fingers inside you, your grip on her hair iron tight, unwillingly to let go of you. 

“Such a beautiful girl, so special, so pretty when you form a sentence. The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. There’s no need to be jealous, babygirl, don’t need anyone else but you. Mhm, just you, alright? Yeah? Keep looking at me, yeah baby, just like this.” 

You nod, close to the brink, her compliments send a rush through your head and your throbbing clit feels it. 

The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. 

“Baby, I, shitttt Violettttt—” 

The name of her full name, the first time she’s ever heard it fall from your lips since the first time you met. Vi’s too close and hearing you scream her name isn’t helping. 

“C’mon, princess. Show me how pretty you can be.” Vi commands and you come undone around her fingers. 

Arching your back against the steering wheel, and the horn blows. 

You giggle and so does she but the soft moment is short lived as your body twitches, selfishly basking in the way you irrevocably coated her fingers in your cum. 

Bringing Violet with you as you pull at her hair, her face planting on on your chest as your breasts smother her moans as she jumps off the cliff with you. Sucking at the flesh, marking what she craves as you fuck yourself on her fingers, her pace even more brutal as Vi coaxes you through your blindingly, hot orgasm. 

“Just like that princess, pussy just can’t stop drenching for me, yeah? My pretty girl can paint my face next time. Do you want that? My face covered in your cum, dribbling down my chin, on my tits…you’ll clean me up though. A good girl like you will. So fuckin’ pretty.” 

One slap to your ass has you trembling, body shaking and that’s when Vi lays off, her fingers slipping out of you and you feel so empty without her. 

As if you didn’t need any more torture, you watch as she lavishes at her fingers, covered in your cum, her high cheekbones suctioning as she sucks every last drop. Vi smirks as you drool a little bit before you wipe the saliva off. Sweet as always, she doesn’t say a word. Saving you the embarrassment from a crude joke. 

One Caitlyn would definitely make. 

“Um, sorry, I think I got carried away.” 

“We both did, it’s okay, Vi.” 

There’s a soft silence, it would almost become cumbersome if it wasn’t so peaceful. The only thing you can hear is her exhale of breath as Vi tries to regain some composure. All of it feels complicated, the severed tie to Caitlyn doesn’t seem so entirely severed when her ex-girlfriend makes you come in the driver’s seat of her truck. 

If anyone found out about this, about the two of you, it would be the talk of the town. Caitlyn’s exes making a victory lap in Kirakiller’s grave. The victory is so triumphant even the goddess on top of the mountain gets scorched. It’s your worst nightmare. Your wish is to coddle this as long as you can. Savor the feeling, keeping Vi under lock and key. 

You just want to have this one thing for yourself. 

Even if you are far from her reach, she has a way of making sure any good thing gets ripped from you, torn from your hands before you even have a second to enjoy. As much as you enjoyed her company, this complicates. 

But it doesn’t stop your heart from thumping loudly. A shiver runs up your spine as Vi pulls down your skirt. There’s a tenderness to her touch as she fixes your top, covering your chest once again. You nearly lock your lips with hers when she rubs your full cheeks with the pad of her thumb, smoothing along her jaw as she leans in to kiss the tip of your nose.  Unable to snuffle it, you smile. 

It’s genuine when the light reaches your eyes. Vi says nothing, anything would be too heavy, something neither of you are ready for. A silent agreement to enjoy this moment for what it is. 

“Are you doing anything for Valentines? Mel and Sevika are having this party and I thought you might wanna go together.” The panic surges through her powder-blue eyes the moment she asks the question. 

Is that why she came tonight? Did she want to ask you? 

Reminding you of the first night you met, a party and Sevika and Mel’s but you find yourself to be in an entirely different position. The idea of a date without the pressure, you’d be surrounded by your friends. But you tremor with the thought of Violet wanting to spend Valentine’s day with you. 

“But it’s, um, perfectly fine if you already have plans. It's just I don’t want to spend it alone. Powder is off spending it with Ekko this year, Vander is doing god knows what and Silco well, that would just be pathetic if I asked him what his plans are. I really just—” 

“Violet.” 

Violet.

Violet. 

Violet. 

The second it rolls off your tongue, a crimson hue forms on her freckled cheeks, even spreading across the bridge of her nose before it coats the tips of her ears. A soft pink unlike her vibrant locks of messy hair, partially due to your tugging and pulling. 

“Sorry, Vi. It just slipped.” 

“No. I mean not no. I wasn’t trying to be rude. You can call me, Violet, if you want to.” 

I like hearing you say my name, it sounds even more beautiful than when you whispered it falling apart on my fingers. 

But Vi couldn’t say that. 

“Well then, Violet, I would love to go with you. Count me in.” 

She didn’t need to know you already had plans on going. This was much better. 

— 

Mel decides to take you up on the offer of studying at the library tonight. With your future hanging on by the thread that is your scholarship, you have to keep your grades airtight. Not to mention the downfall of your situation with Caitlyn only puts a bullseye on your back. 

The first couple of hours have been silent for the two of you, the accountability keeping you in check to stay focused. Then the third hour approaches and the two of you start to quietly converse in the nearly vacant library. 

“Did Sev tell you who came into Leagues last night?” 

Shutting your book, your eyes squint in confusion. 

“Kiramman.” 

“I thought the ship had sailed away during that fight. God, it nearly made me want to strangle her and we all know violence is more of Sev’s choice of resolution.” 

“It has. She likes checking in on her so-called…wounded. She’s never been one for grace. I wish she would make it less obvious, Leagues isn’t even her scene. Her pompous ass would never be caught dead in there when we were, well, whatever the fuck you would call us. But she’s been quite the regular ever since I cut things off. 

It’s surprising she would come to you, but on the other hand, she didn’t know where you lived. It was the only straw for her to grasp on. It’s probably killing her to know she’s been blocked on everything, no contact, a complete ghost town. Almost as if none of you even existed together, just a memory faded, one you hope to burn into ash. 

“Well, Vi was there hanging out with Gert and—” 

“She was?” 

Mel suddenly felt like she said something she shouldn’t have. 

“Appearances can be deceiving, they did talk for a bit, yes, but how does that have any level of importance?” Mel can’t hide her lips upturning. 

“Nothing.” 

“Hey kid, lighten up. I think you’re two seconds away from snapping that pencil in half.” The rasp of Sevika’s voice pulls you back to earth, but it’s too late for the pencil as the infrastructure snaps. You feel like a child, caught in doing something they shouldn’t do. 

“Oh, so this is a thing? Vi?” Mel almost speaks a little too loudly, her voice reaching endless limits as the object of your affection is named in the very silent library. “I just thought you wanted to make Kirakiller jealous. Not actually…” 

You bury your head in your notebook, wanting to strangle Sevika as you hear her chuckle, taunting you as your traitorous heart fails you in your time of need. Maliciously giving you up as your tragic negligence exposes you truly. 

Even if it’s silly, needy, or a little bit selfish — you wanted this one part of your life to be concealed from beady eyes. 

“Finally coming to your senses.” Sevika taunts. 

“Enough. I’m not…Violet and aren’t…that’s not what this is.” 

Mel gives you a knowing look, arching her perfectly arched eyebrow, hazel eyes with a ring of gold surrounding them piercing so deeply into your soul. It almost has you stuttering out how you let her fuck you in Violet’s truck, driving you back home with her warm, soft hand on your exposed thigh. Absentmindedly drawing circles into your skin. 

“Violet?” Sevika and Mel say in unison. 

“Did I say something wrong?” 

“Vi doesn’t let anyone call her that. The only one who's ever called her that is well, her family. She yelled at Kirakiller for calling her that whenever they fought. Vi looked like she could rip her tongue out.” 

The information makes your head spin, there is only so much you can take. 

“It’s just a name. Seems like Vi is preoccupied anyways. This is just so…” 

“Hey Vi!” 

You turn around, hearing her greet someone she was friendly with. In her athletic shorts and cleats, it’s clear practice had started again, her gym bag in tote. The sweat and grime layered over her face, the sleeves of her jersey rolled into her shoulders. With each movement, her muscles rippled in the dim lighting of the library. 

The navy blue jersey complimented her vibrant strands of pink, she laughs at whoever she’s talking to and she looks so happy and at peace, it makes your heart soar. Rugby always made her the happiest. Vander and Vi used to play when she was just a girl, even Powder joined as they got older but when Violet got stronger, she restricted for playing seriously with classmates her own size and not old men whose knees could give out in any second. 

She still doesn’t see you and you want to keep it that way so you turn around, minding your own even if your two closest friends in the world just watched you gawk over Violet. 

“It’s just going to get worse. Living together. It’s only a matter of time until one of you…” Sevika gestures to the pencil lying broken on the table. 

“Well, try not to act too disheartened at the party. Vi said she’s bringing someone. I’m sure it won’t work out between them. Ever since she’s gotten here she hasn’t been able to—” 

Sevika places her hand on Mel, to cue her to silence herself as Vi walks up to the table, grabbing the chair closest to you and discreetly pushes it even closer to you when she takes her seat. 

Immediately, you chastise yourself for loving how turned on you are by her sweaty body, her muscles clearly acquiring the pump from her practice, those stupid strong calves brushing against yours. You admire the scar against her top lip. Tattoos on display, making your head feel dizzy, and she leans over and asks if she can have a couple of your orange slices. Before falling right back in conversation with Sevika. 

Violet does anything to be close to you. Mel and you are engrossed in a conversation, when she shows you the video you were discussing, Vi has to lean over to see. Her arm hanging off your shoulder, her neck craning to see but when she sits back, she keeps her arm around the back of your chair. 

“How did practice go today?” You ask. 

“Fine.” But the grass stains on her shirt tell you differently, so does the burn on her exposed shin. 

“Who the fuck did you let kick your ass?” Sevika interjects before you have the chance to. 

“Can’t kick Kirakiller’s ass. Dean Kiramman might throw me out faster than I can blink. I’m already on thin ice and Kirakiller just made it worse. She doesn’t like losing.” 

Violet glances at you, her expression unreadable as she turns her attention back to Sevika. 

“Got outvoted for Team Captain and she can’t fucking stand it. You know the pompous Kirammans don't believe in democracy. One for all and all for none. Some bullshit Kirakiller says while she’s trying to out-bench me in the weight room. Not my fucking problem. Hasn’t been for a while. She went in for some cheap blows during drills. It is what it is.” 

Sevika nods her head, “Seems like you did a real number on her. She shouldn’t have fumbled half of this table.” 

“Sev.” You shoot a glaring warning. 

Violet visibly tenses but she doesn’t remove her arm, Mel elbowing Sev in the gut softly before she coughs up a quiet apology. The tension could be cut with a knife, but Violet just plays with the material of your cotton shirt, soothing herself as she tries to forget. 

“Right, yep.” An awkward silence disperses before Mel and Sevika excuse themselves leaving you and Violet alone. 

“Violet, I can talk to her. She shouldn’t be taking this out on you. This is all my fault.” 

“It’s not you, alright? Not directly. Caitlyn likes to hurt when she’s hurt. I can handle her.” 

Vi chew on her lip, breaking through skin as blood comes to the surface, the iron taste coating her tongue. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question Violet. 

“She knows she can’t lash out at the one thing she wants.” 

The one thing we both want, Vi thinks to herself. 

She takes the brunt of Caitlyn’s anger and she doesn’t even know why. Maybe an understanding but doesn’t know the full picture. You’re too much of a coward to let it slip. If everything goes south, the woman you adored could truly hate you and that’s the last thing you wanted. It’s silly to even hide a secret. Especially when you feel as if she sees right through your heart when her curious blue eyes look at you. 

“Trust me, I’m playing against what I want but she’s not as done as you think she is. She’ll come back for you, princess. You’re someone anyone would come back for. I’m the low totem pole trash found underneath her designer sole, there’s never been a place for me in her life.” 

“Don’t do that.” 

“It’s the truth.” 

“No, it isn’t. You’re more than how she treated you. Don’t talk about yourself like that. It’s the furthest thing from the truth.” 

Vi nods, tries to offer a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“What really happened? You look banged up and it looks more than just a rough practice. You know you can tell me anything. I’m all ears for you.” 

Vi struggles for a moment, and contemplates on telling you the truth. You deserve to know the truth and she knows that but she also can’t stand for Caitlyn to hurt another piece of you. This entire time apart from Caitlyn, you’ve done your best to separate and get over her. She can’t be the person to make you feel any worse about the situation. 

Caitlyn can’t get more in the way, she won’t allow it. 

“Kiramman just being a cunt, okay? It’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

“Okay but I’m cleaning that cut on your arm when we get home.” You nudge your shoulder against hers. Talking solace as she places her head in the crook of your neck. 

“Whatever you want, princess.” 

Then the question nags in the back of your mind, I saw her with Gert. But you’re putting her with Caitlyn. You think she’s cheating on you but there’s isn’t anything to cheat on. You’ve never spoken about that night in her pick-up truck but still dream of it. 

Luscious, greedy cunt taking her fingers in ease as you fucked her to completion. The whines she made, how harmonious they were with your own. The image stays imprinted on your mind, scorching the deepest depths of your mind for all eternity to see. 

But it’s not everyone taking a look. 

It’s just you. Keeping a lid on it has been more than you bargained for. Vi is the person who has been there to help you. When you’ve felt like the cards are stacked against you, it’s her that pulls you out. Every day after the breakup, if you could even call it that, you evidently were just a warm body to fuck for Caitlyn, Violet was there to make sure you were okay. 

The daily check-ins, making sure you were staying hydrated through all the tears, cooking dinner for the both of you when she knows you skipped lunch. It’s the little things you’re beating yourself up over and it makes you wonder what was really going on. 

If Caitlyn had taught you anything, it was people did fuck you because that’s the only thing they want. But you wanted Violet to be different. More than you ever had than Caitlyn, you need her to be more than what you’ve always been. 

“Are you alright, princess? Lost you there for a second.” 

You hope she never does. And you never want to lose her. You swallow your jealousy, you decide to trust, despite your best efforts; your heart remains unprotected. You chose blind trust, even if you know better, you lean into the faith. 

“Yeah, I’m here with you. Promise.” 

—

There’s red, pink, and white — everywhere. Mel is passionate about Valentine's day. In weeks of build up, this party is all she spoke of. Dragging you along to shop when buying decorations, but you didn’t mind. Sevika covering you at the bar means one less shift this week. After last night’s events, you could use the breather. 

If Sev wasn’t there, putting the men in place, the status of your safety would severely be in question. Vi came after you called, just complaining about it on your break, and thirty minutes later she sat on your section of the bar with one of her favorite books in hand. 

“You didn’t have to come. See? Still in one piece.” 

“Mhm and that’s how I want you to stay. Sorry princess, I’m not going anywhere.” 

It’s not like you needed any more reason to enjoy her company. You have too many. And they come to your mind as needy as a bee to honey. It’s why you bail on coming as a pair, you had a valid excuse, but you also knew if Mel knew why you were helping decorate their home she would literally kick you back to be with Violet. 

Hanging the banner in the entry was the last of your duties and before you knew it everyone was shuffling in one by one. The party is in full swing by the time Violet walks in the front door and you nearly collapse from just how damn good she looks. A bouquet of flowers, an assortment of pink and yellow roses with a few lilies meticulously placed in the arrangement. 

“I hope it’s not too much but I wanted to do something nice for you.” 

“They are beautiful, Violet. You really didn’t have to.” 

She smiles as she leans in to kiss your temple, “Of course I did.” 

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch, the games Mel has planned are fun. Everyone engages with each other and it is surprisingly pleasant. The only unsettling feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is the ginger in the corner who has been eyeing you all night but the shirley temples you’ve been drinking all night has you dazed, sitting on Violet’s lap with her arms wrapped around your waist. 

Vi’s a bit inebriated as she plays with the hem of your dress, whispering how beautiful you look in your ear. You fidget in her hold, grinding against her even when you’re really not even meaning to. 

Astoundingly, the door slams, her arrival being announced. 

Uninvited and as prompt as ever. 

“Oh, so this—“ Caitlyn gestures to Vi as if she’s the sticky gum on the bottom of her overpriced sneaker, “my leftovers is why you chose to end things?” 

She’s charging as the ginger gets up from her seat, trying to hold Caitlyn back but she fails but in an instant, Vi stands up. Every protective bone in her body goes hyperactive, proving herself as a blockade between you and the devil herself. The smirk Vi wears makes Caitlyn violently scowl. She may be taller, but she’s smaller, thinner, not packing nearly as much muscle in her punch. 

There was nothing she would love more than to punch that stupid, coy fucking smile off her face. 

“What are you gonna do, cupcake?” She says the once endearing nickname, crathing to slither underneath her skin, she wants to piss her off to no end. Make Caitlyn regret ever fucking with either of you. It’s all this ever was, a game. Kiramman’s are always desperate to win, to annihilate your opponent. Any future moves made would be contingent in how she made you feel. 

“Get out of my way, Violet.” 

“Call me that again and I’ll knock your teeth out. And what are you going to do about it? Everyone may be afraid of you outside of the field, but in case you have forgotten, this isn't on campus where things are done the Kiramman way. If you wanna take a cheap shot at me, better make it count.” 

With a careful gaze, Caitlyn’s eyes beam down to the hand clinging to Vi’s bicep, how you’re looking at Vi and touching her skin and how dreadful you look to her. 

She directs her voice to you, “What? You’re gonna pick her over me? Like we mean nothing?” 

Bitterly, you laugh, but it isn’t funny. Not one bit. 

“It’s painful, isn’t it? Being on the other side of it.” Taking a step forward, leaning against Violet’s shoulder, intertwining your fingers together. “Those were your words exactly, Kiramman. This is nothing.” 

“I–” For the first time, right before your eyes, she’s stunned. For the first time since she’s met you, she’s speechless. 

“Caitlyn, we should just–” 

“Maddie, enough.” 

The both of you have done more than just rattle her, you’ve surprised her and Violet would be smiling so damn wide if Caitlyn still wasn’t in front of her. 

“Baby, can we talk about this? Just a minute of your time and we can sort this out.” Violet won’t stand for the desperate pleas for a moment longer. She takes a step forward, getting in Kiramman’s face, “I think you and your little orange muppet should get the fuck out before I throw you out myself.” 

“This isn’t any of your business, Vi.” 

“When you’re talking to my girl like that, it really fucking is.” 

My girl. 

Violet seems to be two seconds away from physically throwing her out when Mel finally interjects. “Caitlyn, you are unwelcome, uninvited, and you’re trespassing. I ask that you please leave before other extreme measures need to be taken.” 

A venomous scoff leaves her lips as Maddie drags her away, slamming the door on her way out. 

You're rattled, but not from Caitlyn, but from the assertiveness you didn’t know Vi possessed. The implications of this would serve consequences to not just Vi but to you but you couldn’t focus on that right now. She had called you her girl. 

Vi’s girl. 

“Well now that’s out of the way…” Mel jokes, lightening the mood as the party jumps back in full swing. But all you hear is Vi’s voice calling you hers and it’s like she knows what you’re thinking of when she spares a glance. 

“I’m sorry it just slipped but I couldn’t stand her looking at you like that. Like you were some piece of meat she can have whenever she wants.” Violet apologizes. Rubbing the back of your hand with your thumb, tracing her name into your skin. 

“It’s okay, um, it was actually really hot…” Immediately, she takes a step forward in an effort to be closer to you. “I-I’ve never really seen you be so uh–” 

“What princess?” Mischievously, she girls her head, biting her lip right before she licks them, her tongue piercing teasing you. 

“I dunno…it was just really hot seeing you like that…calling me that.” 

“My girl?” Vi smiles. It’s so genuine, making you swoon with a sincerity only she can give. 

“Yeah, something like that, maybe.” 

“I can call you a lot more things if you want. Wanna take a bet if they actually locked their bathroom?” 

Neither of you have ever moved so quickly in your life. Clothes get thrown on the tile the minute the two of you are alone, pressing your frame against the door as she decorates your neck in sovereign possession. She never wants anyone to question, you’re her girl. 

“Vi, do you,  fuccckkkk, really think this is a good idea?” She only grunts in reply as you're nearly fully exposed, your weeping cunt grinding against the muscular thigh she offers so graciously. Your friendship with her hangs in the balance, and you don’t want to think about that right now but you can’t help but have your doubts. 

“We can stop if you want to. Whatever you want.” Vi moves to remove her thigh until you whimper, tugging her closer by her pink hair towards you. 

“I didn’t say that. Please, don’t stop.” 

“Mhm, okay princess but only because you asked so nicely.” 

Vi pushes her against your pussy, your hips falling more erratic as Violet gets lost in your neck. Lips marking whatever inch of skin they can find as your folds get the needed friction from her trousers. Blindly sucking on the sweet spot behind your ear, making you putty in her hands. 

With a tight grip, you pull at her vibrant hair, her roots grounding you as the build in the pit of your stomach increases. But she pulls away just when you’re getting close. If your hands didn’t have the edge of the sink to hold onto, you’re not sure your legs would have supported you. 

“Did you want to stop?” 

“No.” Vi smirks. 

“Then why the hell did you?” 

She says nothing, infuriating you further. It almost pisses you off to the point where it’s painful. Vi keeps smirking at god knows what. Maybe she finds you just as pathetic as Caitlyn does. It may have been a distant future, when Caitlyn had actually been decent in her freshman year, her and Vi were the talk of the town until it all abruptly ended and no one knew why. You’ve never asked. 

Vi’s friendly with you but not to the point where she’s an open book. She’s hardly an open book with anyone, she’s careful when she hooks up with others. Especially with the who, she doesn’t want someone who's going to go off and tell the rest of campus how many fingers she used while she makes them come. 

But now, you like her. Really fucking badly. 

The way she snapped on her, protecting you, nearly connecting her fist with Caitlyn’s sharp jawline. It’s one of the reasons you’re in here with her. But still, not knowing the reason makes you feel slightly unsettled. 

There's been different rumors over the past few years surrounding Vi the sweetest girl around and Kirakiller. All of them painting Caitlyn in a god awful light. 

Kirakiller cheated on Vi. 

Vi left because Kirakiller didn’t want to make things official. 

Kirakiller‘s tenacious appetite for the bedroom couldn’t be satisfied by Vi. 

Kirakiller said Vi couldn’t make her come. 

The list goes on and on, and on. Neither of them were seen to be around each other again, not until Caitlyn seemed to catch you in her web. It was the sin of the century. Vi’s roommate seeing her ex-girlfriend. It was messy to say the least. A few long weeks and you cooking Vi her favorite meal, buying her favorite sour candy in bulk, along with some new gadget for her computer she’d been wanting. 

It’s all it took to forgive you. Her only request was to keep Caitlyn out of the apartment while she was here. She never spoke about her again and you never pressed the wound. If Vi didn’t ever want to talk about it but why they broke up gnawed at you. 

But Violet doesn’t seem to give a shit about that right now. 

“Get on your knees, princess.” 

You obliged as Vi took off the sweater, revealing a grey fitted tank-top, showing off just how fit she stayed in the crisp of winter. 

“Good girl. Now, take off my belt, yeah?” 

You released the belt from the latch, pulling it through the loop and handing it to Vi. Her firm grip grabs the belt, as she kneels behind you, bounding your wrists together by the smooth, cold leather. It’s black with a silver clasp, it feels nice against your wrists as she tightens it. As far as you can tell, it’s new and it makes you wonder if she bought it for just an occasion like this. 

Wrists bound behind your back, Vi slaps the fat of your ass before soothing over with delicate fingers, the calloused pads of her fingers playing with your puckered hole as she thumbs it gently. 

Pulling it back for a moment, collecting saliva in her warm mouth before drooling over your ass. Smothering her own spit, a place you’d never let anyone touch. You've convinced yourself all this time it’s because of your boundaries but when Vi did it, you didn’t have a problem with it. Then you realize you have trust with Vi, one you hadn’t had with anyone else. 

It was just a spur of the moment, two horny girls lonely and single, needing someone else but you also know Vi wasn’t one to sleep with half the campus. She’s a one-woman kind of girl. Maybe you need that trust. 

You’re hesitant, still but you can’t bring yourself to say no. She’s attentive, making sure you’re alright with each moment. Not wanting to push you past a limit both of you can’t come back from. 

“Is this alright?” Vi whispers into your ear as if she can read your mind. 

“Yeah, it’s good.” You take a beat before moaning as you lean into her chest, “A little too good.” 

Vi chuckles into your ear, the vibrations tingle throughout your body. Suddenly your mind is wondering how a simple giggle can make you feel so soaked. With a gentle hand, her thumb keeps on playing with your ass as she maneuvers you into her lap and that’s when you feel it. 

A faux cock. 

“Is that a—” You want to ask but for the first time in your life, you feel shy. 

“A cock?” 

“Someone’s cocky.” 

You both giggle at your innuendo. 

Lightly, with soaked fingers she pulls out of your lips, she rims your puckered hole, a coveted limit in your body but with her, you so freely wish to give it. 

The eye contact feels awfully intimate but you can’t bring yourself to tear yourself away. It’s entirely new to you. Caitlyn never liked to look you in the eyes when she fucked you. Always something to hide, how she truly feels about you is privy to anyone else but her. 

You didn’t have the right to know. 

With Vi, everything becomes so clear. 

It’s crystal clear when she asks if she can slide a finger inside your ass, it’s overly intimate when you tell her yes as your eyes never leave hers. Her eyes are as hooded as you’ve ever seen them but she won’t break eye contact. Not for a second. You’re questioning if she’s even blinking. 

With each passing second, her pink hair surrounds you as her forehead pressed against yours, blue eyes open as she asks again if you’re okay with it. You give her another yes before her middle finger slides in your mouth, your tongue circling the digit before sucking on it dramatically. Letting off with a pop, Vi teases your forbidden hole one more time before she gently coaxes you open for her. 

“Shit, Shit, that’s—” You squint your eyes shut. The new sensation is a little too much for your brain to process much less the fluttering pressure in the pit of your stomach. 

“Look at me, princess. Keep your eyes on me, alright?” Vi lightly commands, her tone as sweet as you’ve ever heard it. 

With the sweet words thrown your way, your eyes flutter open, long eyelashes kissing your brow bone. Vi smiles softly, her top lip lifting as she sees the way you’re looking at her. 

Kirakiller is so fucking stupid, Vi thinks to herself be she keeps the words to herself. 

Vi stretches you more as her entire finger sits within you, waiting for you to be ready for more and when you are, she nearly comes herself. You’re louder than anyone she’s ever been with. She’s thankful for the loud music Mel insisted on, some shitty pop tune drowning out the two of you. Violet’s never been so thankful. 

Those shitty pop tunes are drowning the especially deafening screams of Vi’s name until your vocal chords are shot. With a strong wrist and the flick of her wrist, she can tell you’re already close. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before.” Shining eyes are glossy as ever as you struggle to keep them open and focused on her. “Never felt this, shiiiittttt, Vi, please. I’m so close.” 

“What do you mean? Has no one ever fucked your ass? You’ve been sleeping with Kiramman. How have you not—” 

“Never let her.” That sends Vi’s clit throbbing viciously. 

“Kirakiller’s an ass lover, everyone knows that.” 

“Are we gonna sit her talking about her the entire time or are you gonna make me come?” Agitating you roll your eyes but Vi licks her lips slowly as a distraction, pulling your attention to her pierced tongue and then you feel another finger stretch at your ass. 

“What did you say, princess? Something about coming?” Vi uses another finger, her long digits spreading the slit in your lower lips, making a mess as she spreads the pre-cum spilling out of you. “Be a good girl won’t you?” Vi pinches your clit and just like that your eyes shut again, a completely shattering orgasm washed over you. 

Body twitching as Vi keeps you in her hold with a strong grip, your body riding against her fingers but she isn’t too pleased for a moment as she tuts. 

“What did I say princess? Eyes open, now.” You struggle, again, but you’re able to meet her demand. There’s an urge to look away, to hide in Vi’s pink hair, her tattooed neck, but you do none of it. Dangerous eyes look at yours as she fucks you through it. You wanted to tug at her hair, pull her closer to you, but hands are bound so all you can do is take it, with loud moans being released, ones you’re trying to control but utterly fail to do so. 

“So pretty like this, yeah? God, those gorgeous eyes of yours are gonna get me in trouble. Crying for me like that, makes me wanna take you back to our home and fuck you on my bed, baby. You’re such a beautiful girl and deserve to be treated like one, my sweet girl.” 

Vi isn’t sure if you’re crying from the intimacy or from the orgasm, probably both. It’s not a secret since the start of the semester you’d been with Kiramman but Vi knew first hand what that meant. There’s no eye contact, no cuddling, no reassurances, it’s just sex. When Vi was going through it herself, she could see the toll it even took on Caitlyn but she didn't break. Her resolve is rock solid and Vi had learned it the hard way, just as she supposed you did. 

It was an endless cycle and it seems Kiramman continued it again with you. It’s evil the way she pulls you apart, makes each part of you feel special, like you’re her entire world and there’s no one else but there always is someone else. Always. Kiramman will lie through her perfectly aligned teeth but there is always someone she keeps for a backup. 

Vi wipes away your tears as she soothes you with soft whispers and delicate hands running up and down your back. It feels like the easiest thing she’s done, soothing you into serenity. With gentle care, she takes the belt off of your wrists, rubbing soft circles over the sensitive skin as you come back to yourself. The alcohol feels like a memory. Her kindness makes your head spin and your heart flutter. 

Now, you understand why the two of them never worked. 

Vi is everything Caitlyn struggles to be. 

It’s like looking in a mirror of everything you want to be but knowing you’ll never be her. The imperfection of Caitlyn’s kindness and the overabundance of Vi’s is probably too much of a bruise to her ego. One could see how much it would eat her alive. Vi helps you relocate your clothes that are scattered across the bathroom floor. Shamelessly, she watches as you dress yourself again, not one to look away from the woman she had screaming her name not even five minutes prior. 

“You’re so beautiful, can’t keep my eyes off you.” 

“C’mon Violet. We live together, I’m the same ole’ me. Now, you’ve just fucked my ass.” You try to brush off the compliment. You feel more similar to Caitlyn then you’d like to admit. Vi’s wholeheartedness is overwhelming, leaving a sting of longing every time she looks at you with a light in her curious eyes. 

You slip on your dress and Vi is quick to zip you up but not without kissing the nape of your neck. 

Tonight’s actions suddenly feel very sobering. 

Vi isn’t done with you as she lifts you up on the countertop, finding her sweatshirt before she covers her toned figure again. You’re wondering what she’s playing at. What she’s thinking about. Vi finds your heels, the versace platform heels Caitlyn had gifted you for your birthday a week after the fact. A pity gift. Similar to herself, you couldn’t say no, it was just too pretty. 

They’re too expensive to come from a broke college student. Vi knows where they came from but she exercises that tight lip of hers. 

With a gentle tap, she taps your calf lightly a couple times and you offer your leg to her as she slaps the heel back onto your feet, clasping the strap around your ankle before she does the same for the other. The both of you stare at the lingering hands on your thighs, rubbing soft circles into the skin, the bluntness of her fingernail causes goosebumps to spread across the skin. 

Caitlyn is terrified of this, something so soft and fragile, her grip would be too tight; she’d break you in the process. She’s a chapter you want to close. All you want now is the woman in front of you. 

Vi has only ever been just a friend and she treats you like this. An imaginative mind, one of your own making, starts to wonder…if Vi was in love with Caitlyn, was she even sweeter to her? If her golden heart wasn’t enough for Caitlyn, whose would it be? 

The question makes you lost on the idea. Maybe it’s the post-nut clarity of being fucked like you just were, but you see Vi an entirely new light. One that feels as blinding as the sun but she’s smothering you with a perfect amount of warmth. 

“So…that happened.” Lightly, Vi laughs trying to brush off the seriousness of the moment. 

“Yeah and it seems you came packing.” 

Mel has been talking her up all week, telling her she wasn’t just seeing things, all she had to do was give you space and you would come to her slowly. It seems like Mel hadn’t been totally wrong. You are clearly attracted to her but the more protective side of her mind wonders if this is all that it extends to — sex. 

The flashback of Caitlyn and all her little twisted games comes to mind while your curious eyes inspect her intensely. 

“It’s just a stroke of optimism.” Vi tries to control her breathing when you close your legs around her waist, crossing your legs over the other as you lock her into a secure position. 

The tight dress you’re wearing bunches up again, almost resting on your hips. 

“I think you were wanting to stroke something else.” 

“Uh. No. I was, definitely…okay…maybe I was. A little bit.” Vi admits as you continue to play with her hair, your heel lightly grazing her bum as you tease her for just a little bit longer. 

“It’s cute. I like it when you’re confident. You packed a cock in your pants because you wanted to fucked me tonight. Be proud about it. Yeah, maybe you didn’t get to use it but you sure did fuck me.” 

“How do you do that?” 

“Do what?” 

“You’re so brave. Nothing stands in your way, when you want something you go after it. I could never do that.” 

“Well, you kinda did. Unless, um—” But the words die in your throat. Suddenly they seem too real and if you tell her, this whole charade will be over, reality will set in and this magical night will only be reduced to primal, drunken needs. 

For all you know, Vi didn’t mean any of this. Maybe you just wanted to get your pussy wet, wanted to fuck a pretty girl, needed to see some tits to get her through this lonely holiday. The one that patronizes the single. 

Maybe that’s all this is. You’re just a nice piece of ass to fuck. It makes you feel dirty, the air feels thinner, and before you know it Vi’s whispering in your ear to take deep breaths. 

“Princess, I’m right here, alright. Just breathe and tell me. It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“I-I just thought because you know, well, after the last month I thought I was more than just…” 

“A girl I wanna fuck?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, you are. Would that be such a bad thing? I know with Caitlyn you had something casual, and maybe you liked things that way, but I want something more serious. I don't want to play with your feelings and I don’t want you to play mine. If this is what you want then I think it’d be worth a shot but if not, we can just be friends, alright? There’s no pressure.” 

“But Natalie…you said she wanted something serious and you didn’t.” 

“I lied to you and I’m sorry for that. But I wanted something serious, just not with her.” 

“You know what you want.” You stated it more like a question, puzzled and perplexed about a woman, for the first time, saying exactly what she’s looking for. 

“Well…yeah? I respect you enough not to waste your time.” Her eyes gleam, expectant and waiting for you to answer. 

“I’ve never had someone so honest with me. I kinda don’t know what to do with it.” 

The most sincere eyes look into yours, as she leans into your fingers that play with her vibrant, violet hair. It’s all so fast but Vi nurtures everything once broken within you until you’re healthy once again, restoring the strength you once felt before your heart stopped listening to your head. 

It’s a warm, comforting feeling you want to sink into. She’s the closest you’ve had to a semblance of hope. You wondered how anyone could ever let go of her. It wasn’t that she had just given you the best orgasm of your life, it was more than that. Vi made you feel more in thirty minutes than Caitlyn had in your entire time together. 

There wasn’t a worry in the back of your mind if this mattered, if you mattered. Her eyes were so open, letting you into the love dripped like honey, full of sweetness, every empty jar of yours waiting to be filled. 

“Don’t do anything right now then. For now,” Vi leaned forward, her lips ghosting yours. Close enough where her breath could be felt on yours. “I don’t know where you’re at but I’ve never felt like this, about anyone, and if you wanna start slow we can. Although, we have twice now so I don’t know how slow we can actually go, or we could even go on real date and then you can decide but—”

“Violet?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You talk too much.” 

You lean in and Vi doesn’t waste the opportunity, capturing your top lip between hers, wanting nothing more than to get lost in every inch of you. Holding you like a delicate flower she’s afraid to crumple in her hands, Vi lets herself get lost in this. 

For once she doesn’t think of the consequences, if this is moving too fast, wondering what Caitlyn would do if she knew and who she would actually be jealous of. It’s a slippery slope, you messing with her, Vi messing with you. 

But she desperately wants it to be more than your roommate, more than a friend — more than secret meeting where Vi fucks you senseless. She can’t get into this and for it to mean nothing and she’s terrified Caitlyn already has her claws dung in deep to you. Then there’s a moan of Vi’s name being said, and her greedy tongue slips in your mouth as she aches for more of you. 

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling your frame impossibly close to her, commanding your mouth with her pierced tongue as if she was born for it, the coolness of the stainless steel ball tangled with your tongue is a high you want to chase. With every touch, a shiver runs up her spine, like there’s a live wire exposed within you and only her touch can spark it alive. 

Vi knows where you want to be touched before you say a word, like she has a connection to your mechanisms, every craving designed for her to carry out as if she’s the one who put them there in the first place. Violet’s pelvis presses against yours, as she gives you the kiss of your life, it leaves you breathless as you chase her lips, your grip pulling at her roots as if it’s your sole purpose in life. 

The rest of the world melts away and it’s just the two of you. The lingering shadow of your ex fades into the background and all you see is Violet. Right under your nose this entire time and only now do you realize just how wonderfully perfect she is. 

Violet ravishes in how good it feels to be chosen and it’s by you. 

The angel who can fly all on her own now; wings no longer clipped by the devil herself. 

Fin. 

[orangeblossomsintheair]

HONEY YOU’RE FAMILIAR | MV33

summary : For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

wc : 5k

an : writing this to distract myself from my other wips? ..i would never.. 😦 also i wrote this at 12 am so let this not be a place of judgement :))

Max sometimes forgets how small Monaco is.

It’s easy to do when most of his memories of the place are a blur of fast cars and glittering parties. He spends most of his time racing through the streets during the Grand Prix or holed up in a hotel room overlooking the harbor.

When you’re constantly traveling the world, hopping between paddocks and podiums, the compactness of Monaco barely registers. It’s a speck on the map, a gilded bubble he never really bothers to think about until it’s right in his face.

But sometimes, like tonight, he’s reminded.

Monaco isn’t a city, not really.

It’s a playground. A handful of streets strung together like a necklace, choked with Lamborghinis, Rolls-Royces, and yachts so big they could be small countries. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone.

Or, at the very least, they know of everyone.

The millionaires gossip about the billionaires. The bartenders know who tips in cash and who never tips at all. Even the stray cats probably have dirt on the local royals.

It’s not just small in size. It’s tight.

Wealth wraps around this place like a noose, strangling it into exclusivity.

There are no dark corners to disappear into, no sprawling suburbs to lose yourself in.

Just a few restaurants, a few clubs, and a few streets where the same people circle each other like they’re on a carousel. If you’re here long enough, you’ll eventually run into everyone you’ve ever met.

Even the ones you’ve been trying to avoid.

Max doesn’t think about that when he walks into the bar.

He’s not in the mood for deep reflection or existential dread. He’s here because Daniel said he needed a drink, and when Daniel Ricciardo says you need a drink, you listen.

That’s how Max ends up at some overpriced lounge that smells like vodka and ambition, standing under soft, warm lighting that’s trying too hard to make the place feel classy instead of claustrophobic.

He’s nursing a beer, half-listening to Daniel tell some convoluted story about a failed date and a stolen Vespa, when he hears it.

A voice.

Your voice.

It’s the kind of thing that cuts through the noise without him even realizing why. It’s not loud or particularly distinct; it’s not like you’re screaming or making a scene. But it’s you. The way you talk, your cadence, the rise and fall of your words. It’s all so achingly familiar that it grabs him by the throat and yanks.

Max freezes. His drink doesn’t make it to his lips.

The years fall away in a blink, and suddenly, it’s like no time has passed.

He’s twenty-two again, still figuring out how to smile for cameras, while you’re draped over the back of his couch, talking absolute nonsense about whether or not the cars in Cars have insurance or not.

He doesn’t even realize he’s turned to look until he spots you.

You’re standing at the bar, laughing as you say something to the bartender. It’s loud, and Max can’t hear you properly, but he can feel you.

The way you lean casually on the counter, the tilt of your head, the way you wave your hand to punctuate whatever you’re saying. It’s so painfully, annoyingly you.

And God, you look good.

For a second, all he can do is stare. You haven’t seen him yet, thank God, because Max Verstappen does not know what the hell to do with himself right now.

You look different.

Not in a drastic way, just… grown.

Your edges are sharper, your presence more refined, like a photo that’s come into focus after years of being a little blurry. But the core of you is still the same. It’s in the way you throw your head back when you laugh, like the world isn’t slowly crumbling under the weight of climate change, billionaires, and whatever Kardashian family drama is brewing this week.

And suddenly, Max is thrown back years.

To a time when you were his person. The one he called when things went sideways, or when he won, or when he was just bored and needed someone to hear him rant about understeer.

You were his best friend.

No. The friend. The one. The only one who ever really got him. And then…Well, then he was an asshole.

He tries to tell himself that you two drifted apart.

People do that, right? It’s life. Except that’s a lie, and Max knows it. You didn’t drift; you held on like a freaking tow hook. You tried—texted him, called him, showed up to races, tried to remind him there was a world outside of 300 km/h and tire degradation.

Max doesn’t know what to do with this. With you. He’s not used to seeing ghosts in real life, and you might as well be one now.

Max debates his next move. He could just… not. Pretend he didn’t notice you. Slip out quietly, finish his drink somewhere else, and avoid whatever emotional grenade this is about to be. That would be the smart thing. The logical thing.

But Max has never been great at logic.

For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

But then you glance over your shoulder.

And your eyes lock.

He doesn’t have time to decide whether to stay or bolt

You see him.

And Max realizes he’s fucked.

For a split second, he thinks you might look away, maybe pretend you didn’t see him either.

He’s not sure if he’s hoping for that or dreading it. But then your face lights up, and the look you give him isn’t what he expects.

It’s warm. Familiar. Like you’re genuinely happy to see him.

His chest tightens. Max isn’t sure what he thought he’d see. Resentment, awkwardness, indifference, maybe.

But this? This disarms him completely.

You wave, and before he knows it, his feet are moving.

“Maxy,” you say as he approaches, your voice carrying that teasing lilt that could only ever be you. It knocks the breath out of him, so familiar and effortless it almost hurts. “Long time no see.”

Max freezes for the briefest of moments, the nickname hitting him like a slap and a hug all at once. Maxy. No one’s called him that in years. Not his family. Not his team. Not anyone.

No one except you.

“Yeah, uh, long time,” he manages, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture so awkwardly familiar it almost makes you laugh. He looks like he’s 17 again, shy and unsure.

Before either of you can say more, Daniel sidles up next to him, a beer in hand and an amused eyebrow raised as he glances between the two of you. “Know her?” Daniel asks, his voice dripping with curiosity.

“He does,” you reply smoothly before Max can fumble an answer. Your smirk is playful, but there’s no bite to it, just that same easy warmth Max hasn’t felt in what feels like forever. “I used to keep this one in line. Back when he was all awkward interviews and tragic haircuts.”

Daniel barks out a laugh, glancing at Max’s meticulously styled hair. “Tragic haircuts? Wait, this-” he gestures wildly at Max’s head, like it’s some architectural masterpiece “-is the improved version?”

You’re already laughing, and it’s the kind of laugh Max hasn’t heard in years.

He groans, dragging a hand over his face, though the corners of his mouth are betraying him with a faint smile. “Don’t encourage her,” he mutters to Daniel, but his tone is far too soft to have any weight.

It’s stupid how easy this feels. How natural. Max isn’t used to easy anymore.

Daniel, bless him, is soaking it all in.

“So?” he says, giving Max a teasing nudge. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, or do I have to guess?”

“I was getting there,” Max grumbles, shooting him a half-hearted glare before looking at you. For a moment, he falters. He doesn’t know what to call you. Acquaintance feels too cold. Stranger would be a lie. And friend? That feels like stepping too far into a past he’s not sure he’s ready to face.

“An old friend,” you offer, saving him effortlessly, like you always did. “And you must be the famous Daniel Ricciardo.”

Daniel grins, full of boyish charm. “Guilty as charged,” he says, tipping his beer in a mock toast. “And let me just say, I already like you. Great taste in insults.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Ricciardo,” you say, though your smirk says otherwise.

The three of you fall into an almost absurdly natural rhythm, as though you’ve all been doing this for years. Daniel’s effortless charisma bounces off your sharp wit, and Max finds himself smiling more in five minutes than he has in weeks.

Maybe months.

It’s like the weight on his shoulders has lifted, just for a moment, and he can breathe again.

You’re mid-story when he realizes he hasn’t felt this light in ages.

“So there I was,” you’re saying to Daniel, gesturing dramatically, “dragging Max out of his hotel room because he was refusing to face the world after a bad race.”

“I wasn’t refusing to face the world,” Max interjects, but there’s no real heat in his voice.

You give him a look that could level a building. “You were lying on the floor eating Haribo like it was your last meal,” you say, deadpan. “It was tragic. Genuinely tragic.”

Daniel’s cackling now, nearly spilling his beer. “Please tell me there are photos of this.”

“Sadly, no,” you reply with mock disappointment. “But the image is burned into my brain forever. It was that bad.”

Max groans, shaking his head, though the grin tugging at his lips is impossible to hide. “Why did I ever let you into my life?”

“Because no one else could handle you,” you fire back, and it’s so quick, so natural, it makes his chest ache.

Daniel takes a step back, still laughing. “You two are too much,” he says, pointing at the two of you like you’ve just performed a comedy sketch. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t get too emotional without me, okay? I’m going to find another beer. Or maybe a Vespa to steal. Who knows?”

You watch him disappear into the crowd, still grinning. For a moment, the two of you are left standing there, and the noise of the party seems to fade just slightly.

“Daniel’s fun,” you say, breaking the silence.

“He is,” Max agrees.

When the music starts bumping up again, the two of you are faced with a whole other problem entirely.

“So, you’ve been busy!” you yell, leaning across the sticky bar top, your voice barely cutting through the bass thumping around you.

“What?” Max shouts back, leaning closer.

“I SAID, YOU’VE BEEN BUSY!”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“I KNOW! THAT’S WHY I’M SHOUTING!”

“WHAT?”

You throw your hands up in exasperation, but he just smirks, clearly enjoying this.

So you double down.

“DO YOU WANT ANOTHER DRINK?” you bellow, miming holding a glass.

“WHY ARE YOU YELLING ABOUT DRINKS?” he shouts back, baffled.

“BECAUSE IT’S TOO LOUD IN HERE!”

“WHAT?”

This back-and-forth nonsense goes on for an impressively ridiculous three minutes, the two of you getting progressively louder, until Max finally groans, shaking his head like he’s reached his limit.

He steps closer, leans in like he’s about to shout something else, then just presses a warm, steady hand to the small of your back. “Come on,” he says, not even bothering to raise his voice this time.

“What?” you yell, still committed to the bit.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts gently steering you toward the stairs, and you stumble a little, caught off guard by the unexpected physical contact.

“Where are we going?” you shout, craning your neck to look at him as you climb.

“UPSTAIRS!”

“WHY?”

“BECAUSE I VALUE MY HEARING!” he fires back, glaring at you over his shoulder.

“OH, NOW YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR HEARING?” you tease, but he ignores you, his hand still firm and insistent on your back as he guides you upstairs.

The VIP section is quieter, tucked away from the pulsating bass and the sweaty chaos of the main club floor. Max had slipped a word to a bouncer—who nodded in a way that made you roll your eyes—and now you’re here, sinking into the plush leather of a semi-circular booth with a ridiculous view of the dance floor below.

The relative silence hits you like a warm blanket. You blink, adjusting to the sudden absence of aggressive EDM, and turn to Max, who looks much too smug for your liking.

“Smuggled into VIP like I’m some sort of black-market item,” you tease. “Careful, Verstappen. This is how egos start.”

“You’re welcome,” he says dryly.

“For what?” you shoot back. “The privilege of not getting tinnitus at 27?”

“Yes,” he replies smoothly, sliding into a nearby booth like he owns the place. “You’re lucky to know me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpan. “My life has improved immeasurably since you dragged me up here. I’ll write a thank-you card.”

“Make sure it’s handwritten,” he quips, signaling a waiter for drinks. “And don’t skimp on the stationery.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, rolling your eyes but you’re smiling, and he knows it.

He chuckles, leaning forward slightly. “Hey, if you’re going to criticize, at least admit this is better than shouting at each other over terrible music.”

You glance around the room, all dark wood and dim lighting, where a few scattered people are having hushed conversations or staring down at the dance floor with an air of superiority. “Alright,” you admit, “it’s not terrible. But the crowd up here…”

You nod toward a guy at the next table wearing sunglasses, inside, and sipping champagne like it’s water. “Is this your scene now? Bottle service bros and indoor eyewear enthusiasts?”

Max glances at the guy, smirking. “Not my scene. But I figured you deserved something better than sticky floors and overpriced tequila shots.”

You laugh. “Wow. I feel so special. Nothing says friendship like a quiet room and a drink I can’t pronounce.”

“Admit it,” he says, leaning back again. “You love it.”

“I love judging it,” you correct, grinning. “Big difference.”

Max watches you for a moment, shaking his head with an almost fond expression. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“And you’ve changed too much,” you shoot back, gesturing at his ridiculously put-together outfit. “Look at you, Verstappen. Fancy haircut, custom clothes, actual social skills. Who are you?”

“First of all, the haircut is functional,” he retorts, mock offended. “Aerodynamics.”

“Oh, of course. Wouldn’t want your hair slowing you down at 300 kph,” you say, pretending to be serious.

“It’s a real thing!” he insists, laughing now. “If you knew anything about racing-”

“If I knew anything about racing?” you interrupt, your voice rising in mock outrage. “Excuse me, I was there when you had to Google how to talk to the media without sounding like a robot. You think I don’t know the intricacies of racing, Maxy?”

“Don’t call me Maxy,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“Oh, I’m definitely calling you Maxy,” you say, delighted. “I might even get a custom T-shirt. ‘Maxy’s Biggest Fan.’ I’ll wear it to a race.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “If you do that, I’ll steal your phone and delete every embarrassing photo you’ve ever taken of me.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have backups,” you say smugly, sipping your drink.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head, but there’s a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

For a moment, the two of you fall into an easy silence, the noise of the club below fading into the background. You glance at Max, noting the relaxed set of his shoulders, the way he’s fiddling with the label on his beer bottle—a habit he’s had for as long as you can remember.

“So,” you say, breaking the quiet, “what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve bought since you became all… you know.”

“All what?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You know,” you say, waving a hand vaguely. “World Champion. Multi-millionaire. Guy who smuggles old friends into VIP sections.”

He chuckles. “Ridiculous? I don’t know… probably the private jet.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “The private jet is the least ridiculous thing about you, Verstappen. Try again.”

“Fine,” he says, thinking for a moment. “I bought a sauna for my house. Didn’t use it for six months.”

You burst out laughing. “A sauna? For what? Post-race existential crises?”

He groans, rubbing his temples. “It was a bad idea, okay? I thought it would be relaxing.”

“Did it come with, like, a tiny man who throws water on the rocks for you?” you ask, grinning.

“No, but now I kind of want one,” he admits, laughing.

“God, you’re the worst,” you say, shaking your head, but your tone is full of affection.

“And you’re jealous,” he fires back.

“Of your unused sauna?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m absolutely consumed with envy.”

The two of you dissolve into laughter and the conversation continues.

Next thing you know it’s 3 am and you and Max are stumbling out of the club, too giggly for both of your sakes.

Daniel had hopped on to another place hours ago so it’s just you and him.

The cool night air hits you like a slap, but instead of sobering up, it just makes you giggle harder.

Max freezes mid-stumble, his head lolling back like he’s auditioning for Les Mis on the world’s worst stage. “Why’s the air so aggressive?” he slurs. “Feels like it’s… pushing me. Rude.”

“Why’s the ground so spinny?” you counter, stumbling sideways into him.

“'Cause you’re bad at walking,” he accuses, latching onto your arm like a barnacle while swaying dramatically.

“You’re bad at walking,” you fire back, immediately tripping over a shadow and nearly eating pavement.

“You can’t even walk straight!” Max protests, laughing as he catches you before you faceplant.

His arm slides around your waist, steadying you in the most unsteady way possible.

“You’re the one spinning,” you argue, slurring every other word. “Maaaybe you should ju- just stay still for once in your life.”

“Oh, because you’re the expert,” he fires back, wheezing as you nearly trip again. “Where- where are you even staying at?”

You squint at him, trying to focus. “Uh… good question.”

Max stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “What do you mean good question? How do you not know?”

“I don’t rememb- ber,” you admit, cackling as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Max groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re just- what? Homeless now?”

“Homeless for the night,” you correct, wagging a finger at him like that somehow makes it better.

Max laughs so hard he has to pause, doubling over slightly. “How- how do you forget where you’re staying?”

“’S not my fault!” you defend yourself, leaning heavily against him. “The hotel has, like… a name! A boring one! And too many floors!”

Max groans so loudly it echoes off the buildings. “Oh my God. You’re homeless now. You’re a wandering drunk with no home.”

“I'm trying a new lifestyle,” you say, grinning. “Like… nomadic, y’know? Spiritual.”

“Yeah, okay, Buddha, let’s find you a real place to sleep before you start befriending rats,” he mutters, dragging you down the street.

“I like rats,” you say cheerfully. “They’re just misunderstood.”

“You’re misunderstood,” Max shoots back. “Come on. You’re crashing at my hotel. I can’t leave you out here to, like, adopt a possum or something.”

“I don’t wanna!” you whine, digging your heels into the ground.

“Tough!” Max barks, throwing his arm around your shoulders to keep you moving. “You’ll thank me in the morning when you’re not spooning a garbage can.”

You groan dramatically, slumping into him. “Maxxyyy, I’m tired. Can’t I just sleep on a bench or something?”

“Nooo. No benches. Benches are gross. You’ll get, like… pigeons on you.”

“Pigeons are my friends,” you declare solemnly, as if this is a hill you’re prepared to die on.

Max shakes his head, clearly trying to stay serious but failing miserably. “Okay, Dr. Dolittle, you’re not sleeping outside.”

You groan again, dragging your feet even as he starts pulling you along.

“Stop whining,” he slurs, swaying as he tries to walk in a straight line. “It’ll be like- like a sleepover! Like when we were five.”

“Sleepovers at five were better,” you mutter. “Less… you.”

“Excuse me?” Max stops, glaring at you like you’ve mortally offended him. “I’m the best sleepover buddy. I let you steal my Haribo once.”

“You hid the Haribo under your pillow!” you counter, poking him in the chest.

“’Cause you’re a thief!” he says, grinning as he pulls you toward the street corner.

“Am not,” you huff, pouting.

“Are too,” he replies, but his tone is teasing as he hails a cab.

When the cab pulls up, it feels like the world is tilted just enough that the ground might collapse under your feet at any moment. You both tumble into the backseat in a fit of giggles, your laughter echoing off the darkened streets.

It’s the kind of laughter that’s born of a little bit too much alcohol and a whole lot of absurdity. You could’ve sworn you heard a streetlight flicker in disbelief at the sound of your shared joy.

Max flops dramatically against you as if the very act of sitting upright requires more effort than it’s worth.

His head lands squarely on your shoulder, and for a split second, you’re both tangled in the shared warmth of a really questionable decision.

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, and grins like a kid who just got away with stealing candy.

“You smell like tequila and poor decisions,” he mutters with a lazy drawl, his words slow but somehow still cutting through the haze of the night.

You’re already shaking your head before you even speak, the words spilling out one over the other. “You smell like someone who wore Axe in high school.”

Max’s eyes widen in mock outrage. “I did not!” He shoots up from your shoulder like you just insulted his very existence, but the motion sends him veering dangerously toward the cab door.

He catches himself at the last second, gripping the seat like it’s a lifeline.

By the time the cab pulls up to Max’s hotel, you're both deep into a discussion about whether Axe body spray could be classified as a biohazard in certain quantities.

It’s a ridiculous debate, fueled by far too much tequila and a complete disregard for logic, but it’s the most fun either of you have had in ages.

Max is practically in tears from laughing, his snort-laugh echoing off the walls of the cab as he tries to argue that Axe is, in fact, a perfectly fine product, just poorly misunderstood by society.

The cab screeches to a halt, and Max stumbles out first, holding the door open for you with the kind of exaggerated flair you’d expect from someone who probably practices his dramatic entrances in front of a mirror.

As he pays the driver, his wallet slips from his hands not once, but twice, and he’s already apologizing profusely, his face flushed from the alcohol and his own clumsiness.

Finally, he gets the wallet sorted, tucks it back in his pocket, and reaches down to drag you out of the cab like you’re a piece of luggage.

You’re both barely standing, teetering back and forth on your feet as if gravity itself is conspiring to make the night even more ridiculous.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Max says, throwing his arm out grandly to gesture toward the hotel lobby like he’s unveiling the Louvre.

The marble floors, polished to a shine, the sleek, understated furniture… none of it compares to the visual assault that is the ugly carpet underfoot.

“Your palace has really ugly carpet,” you mutter, laughing as you trip over the offending fabric, your feet not quite able to keep up with your brain’s idea of where they should go.

Max snorts, his hand steadying you as you almost face-plant into a particularly gaudy potted plant. “You’re banned from the palace,” he retorts, giving you a playful shove.

You recover, and together, you stagger toward the elevator, which, for some reason, feels like an obstacle course in itself.

The elevator doors open with a dramatic ding, and Max promptly starts jabbing the wrong floor button in a series of random, very confident moves.

Each one is a miss, but he keeps at it, as if this were somehow part of the plan.

You lean against the wall, your body shaking with laughter as you struggle to breathe through the giggles.

“This is why they don’t let you operate machinery,” you manage to gasp, watching him fumble with the buttons in disbelief.

Max grumbles under his breath but finally, miraculously, hits the correct floor button. He turns to you with an exaggerated wink. “See? I told you. Genius.”

You raise an eyebrow, patting him on the head condescendingly. “Sure you are, buddy. A true mastermind.”

The elevator ride is a blur of jokes and half-baked insults as you both fight to keep your composure.

Max leans against the wall with a smug look, clearly reveling in his victory over the elevator button.

When the doors finally open, you both stumble out, holding on to each other uselessly.

At the door to his room, Max proceeds to fumble with his key card in a way that can only be described as tragically incompetent.

The key card slips from his fingers twice, and each time, he lets out a string of expletives in a garble of Dutch and English.

“Jesus. You okay there, Einstein?” you tease, leaning casually against the wall and watching him drop the card once more. You can’t help but laugh.

“Shut up,” he mutters, his voice already tinged with frustration. “Technology’s hard.”

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door swings open, and Max stumbles inside with the grace of a rhino on roller skates.

He turns to face you with a theatrical sigh. “There. I did it. Happy now?”

You’re already halfway to the bed, your shoes flying off in opposite directions, one ending up by the dresser and the other getting lodged under a chair.

With a dramatic thud, you collapse onto the bed, your body sinking into the soft, luxurious comfort like it was the only thing holding you together.

“This bed is softer than my hopes and dreams,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the comforter as you stretch out like a starfish.

Max, predictably, flops down beside you with the subtlety of a sack of bricks, his arms and legs sprawling out in every direction.

“Move over,” he grumbles, his face smooshed into the pillow.

“Nope,” you reply, barely lifting a finger to indicate where his side is. “Your side’s over there,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the edge of the bed, but it’s clear from the way your eyes are barely staying open that you’re not in any shape to play the “bedroom politics” game.

“Too bad,” Max grunts, grabbing your pillow from beneath your head and smushing it over his face. “This is a dictatorship, and I’m the dictator.”

“Goodnight, Haribo hoarder,” you slur, your words trailing off into nothing as sleep drags you under.

The last thing you hear before you fully fade into unconsciousness is Max’s muffled laugh, and you can’t help but smile.

For a brief moment, it feels like nothing’s changed at all.

—-

Max’s eyes snap open, and for a second, everything is blurry.

He blinks a few times, the weight of his eyelids making it feel like he’s wading through molasses.

A dull ache sits in the back of his skull, a reminder of the questionable choices he made the night before.

He groans, dry, scratchy, the kind of noise that only belongs to mornings where you regret both your life decisions and your snack choices.

He’s still in his room. So far, so good.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary... except for that persistent feeling in the air that something is off.

Max stretches, or at least tries to. His arms flail in an uncoordinated spasm, which results in a series of awkward grunts and a pop from his back that sounds like a joint trying to jump ship.

For a second, he considers staying perfectly still, hoping his body will remember how to function like a normal human.

But then—

There’s something warm beside him. Something... alive.

Max freezes, eyes snapping wide open. His breath catches in his throat as he tries to process what’s happening. The warmth next to him isn’t the soft comfort of a pillow.

It’s... a person.

A person in his bed.

What the actual hell?

His brain goes into overdrive, trying to make sense of the situation. His mind races through a thousand thoughts in a second, each one more ridiculous than the last.

Did he... did he end up getting a stranger drunk last night? Did someone break into his room to cuddle with him?

Max’s eyes dart to his left, and it hits him like a freight train.

The person is you.

You, sprawled across the bed, fast asleep, your hair tousled and your face peaceful, completely unaware of his mounting panic.

For a moment, Max just stares, brain failing to catch up.

How did this happen? His head starts swimming. His mouth goes dry. His first thought is that he’s dreaming..except, no.

This is far too real. He’s not that lucky.

“I need to call Daniel..”

[hannieween]

good sport | wicked games series

Wonwoo was wrong about one thing. He knew he wasn’t a romantic man. He was never one for theatrics, or big displays of love. But one thing hit him. No, Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t a romantic man. He was a devoted one.

☾ pairings: jeon wonwoo x female reader ☾ genre: angst, fluff, smut (18+) ☾ aus: bartender wonwoo, bartender mingyu, messy love triangle, friends with benefits, right person wrong time ☾ word count: 15.1k

› PREVIOUS CHAPTERS – READ MORE

🎧: roses – jaehyun | truth be told – baekhyun | gemini – ethan low | deja vu – taemin | somebody – jungkook | over you – haon | good sport – hyejin | disco ball – echo huang | say – keshi | nvrmnd – i.m

☾ warnings: smut with plot, hurt/comfort, jealousy, possessiveness. alcohol consumption. hard dom wonwoo, sub reader, masturbation, cumming on skin, cum swallowing (and a little bit of cum play), creampie, blow job, dirty talk, hair pulling, cowgirl, body worshipping. marking: hickeys. these two banter like kids. reader is chubby (there are more in-depth descriptions of her body in this chp). pet names: ma'am, baby, babygirl, shorty, (hers)

☾ author's note: hello hi hi hello there. just here to tell you that the main sex scene is obscenely long again [like wonwoo's c—] AND very descriptive, some of these things they do are slightly kinky, lol. so idk, listen to some sexy music, it's going to be a long ride

☾ disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers ONLY. please have your age stated in your blog description and do not to look like a bot 🙂

good sport

Wonwoo woke up with a thought clawing at his mind.

He usually didn’t let his impulses win. But this time, he couldn’t help himself.

Alone in his bed, he stretched his arm beneath the covers, sighing softly. With his eyes closed still, he clung onto the last slivers of his dreams, where he was with you instead.

It was one of those mornings. And at first, he felt so obfuscated by the sensation in his body because it had been so long since the last time he’d woken up like this. He was rock hard. The feeling was so tight that it was beginning to annoy him.

He knew why he had woken up with a raging boner in his pants. He’d just had a dream of you. Just blurs and pieces of him kissing your lips, your body. Glimpses of the faces you make whenever he’s inside you—your voice calling him babe.

Fuck it, he whispered as he slipped a hand beneath the covers, and then his boxers. He didn’t need to play with it at first. His fingers circled his girth, letting out a tiny hiss through his teeth when he found out that he was fully hard.

He pushed the bed covers away with his free hand, now having the space to move his hand on himself. Then he tugged the elastic band of his boxers, pulling his cock out. He started rolling his hand on himself, brushing the tip of his cockhead with the pad of his thumb. There was a good amount of precum leaking from him already, making him sigh a moan.

It was the first time in years he’d done this. Let alone, doing this for a woman who wasn’t entirely his.

But god, it had never felt so good.

He stroked his cock thinking about the last time he had sex with you. The way you looked so pretty, lips swollen from kissing him, teary eyes from the pleasure you were feeling. And your body, god, your body. He’d go to war just so he could spend the rest of his life between your legs.

Wonwoo sighed deeply, keeping his eyes closed to recall the memory. You were a dream. And you felt even better. He rolled his hand faster on his cock, pretending it was your tight and warm cunt swallowing him in. A small moan came out of him when he remembered the sounds of your moans, the sweet way you called him.

In his mind, he was watching your body—how it was the last time. The way your tits bounced gently as he pushed inside you, the way your pretty cunt was glistening with your arousal.

You were perfect for him. Perfect.

“Oh, god,” Wonwoo groaned, pushing his head back on his pillows and letting out a long sigh. He rolled his hand even faster as spurts of cum spilled from him, landing on his abdomen.

He was panting softly, trying to keep himself quiet in case he was heard. He opened his eyes, the light in his room was low, and without his glasses, it was hard to discern the state that he was in.

But he could feel it. He was lying half-naked in his unmade bed. The only things he wore were his boxers and gray sweats, which were messily pushed down.

The first time he slept with you, he knew he was crossing a line. And the second time, he didn’t care about it. And now…

He had a serious problem now.

Wonwoo got up, finding something to clean himself with before going out of his bedroom. Then, standing below the shower, he allowed himself to think.

The last time he saw you, he took you out to grab breakfast. And it was a cozy date, spent laughing and bantering with you. But as the time to go drew near, he found himself staring at a problem. One that, if he isn’t careful, could ruin a lot of things.

Jeon Wonwoo has never considered himself a romantic man. He never did. But lately, he had been debating that. 

Because whenever he was with you, he thought about it. He wanted to say things and do things just so he could see that light in your eyes again. He enjoyed making you laugh, the look on your face as you tilted your head back.

He shut the tap, standing crestfallen to let his hair drip onto the tiles.

Wonwoo knew one thing—he would fall in love with you. He already was.

As soon as Mingyu crossed the door to the gym, he looked around. Every day, he did this with the hope of seeing you by chance, despite knowing that you probably were sticking to coming here while he was at work.

The place was usually quieter in the mornings—the movement inside was slower, and the music coming from the speakers was almost non-existent. There were fewer people, but even so, it felt like everyone was readying for their day.

Mingyu felt restless.

He hadn’t been able to sleep. Part of him tried to convince himself that he was simply just tired. But ever since he saw you with another man, he felt different. Like something in him got triggered, and he hadn’t been able to reel it back.

Part of him knew that this was the aftereffect of his failed relationship with Gigi. The jealousy, the possessiveness. He needed to work through it. The ripple that the cheating and the heartbreak Gigi left in his heart needed to go.

He walked through the machines in the gym until he found an empty spot where he could warm up. He moved mechanically, pushed by muscle memory alone. In his head, he tried to logic his way through it.

Maybe you’ve moved on. Maybe you went back with your ex. Was it someone new? Was it someone he knew?

Each one of those options made him sick. He was too late; that was something he was beginning to come to grips with.

His workout session felt stale, like the usual serotonin boost had failed to kick in. He did his usual push routine in silence, didn’t even bother to put his headphones on. He sat on the bench press for a while, gathering his breath.

He didn’t even realize Jungkook was standing behind him until he raised his gaze, catching a glimpse of his friend in the mirror.

“Energy bar?” Jungkook said, offering a peanut butter and chocolate bar.

Mingyu looked at his friend’s face, who wiggled his eyebrows upon eye contact. “Thanks, man,” he said, grabbing the bar.

“Did you fall out of bed?” Jungkook said, sitting down on the bench next to Mingyu’s.

When Mingyu arched an eyebrow in question, Jungkook pointed a finger to his own eyes, just below. “You look like hell,” he said.

Mingyu forced a nod. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Jungkook took a bite from his bar. “You alright?”

Mingyu gave a non-answer shrug.

Jungkook arched the pierced eyebrow, but didn’t press. He leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees while he enjoyed another bite from his energy bar.

The silence sat between them, and for a minute, it meant nothing. But Mingyu’s head was loud with dark thoughts, and the best part of him, his self-control, waned at the moment he blinked, seeing you walking with another man in his mind’s eye.

“You talk to her lately?” Mingyu asked with a raspy tone. As though he had been screaming in silence for hours. 

Jungkook raised his head, his brow furrowing deeply. “Who?”

Mingyu didn’t answer.

And Jungkook’s mouth dropped open in acknowledgement. “Oh,” he nodded. “Right. No?”

Mingyu stared at the floor, his finger outlining the corner of his unopened energy bar. “Have you two been hanging out lately?”

Jungkook deadpanned to him. “Uh, no. Not really.”

Mingyu nodded, but the answer didn’t satisfy him. Jealousy, anguish, and something dark roused inside his chest. And before he could stop it, he was already uttering the words: “Are you seeing her?”

Jungkook gaped, staring at Mingyu like he was waiting for the joke to drop. “What?” he finally blurted. “No, man.”

Mingyu shook his head, trying to discard the heavy thoughts clouding his mind. He ran a hand down his face, accidentally wiping the cold sweat on his forehead. “Forget it,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

“I’m not seeing her,” Jungkook repeated, his voice even. “We’re just friends. That’s it.”

Mingyu just gave him another nod. “Right.”

Jungkook arched an eyebrow. “Are you okay, man?” he asked. “Do you need to talk?”

Mingyu didn’t answer. The weight of how he’d been behaving was catching up to him. He shook his head, rising from the bench. “I’m sorry,” he said, not making eye contact with his friend. “Thanks for the bar. Catch you later.”

Then he walked toward the locker room, grabbed his bag and walked out of the gym with a quick step. Between the shame, the remorse and the jealousy still brimming inside him, one feeling overpowered him: regret.

The spot was mostly empty.

It was still early, but it was evident that it was going to be a nice, calm shift for the rest of the night.

And thank God it was going to be a quiet shift. Kim Mingyu needed that right now. He needed peace to think. Even though his thoughts weren’t as peaceful.

So, it wasn’t Jungkook.

He pulled out his phone, the pad of his thumb hovering over your name for a second. But no, he couldn't. He didn’t have the right to ask. 

He leaned back against the counter, assessing the activity at the bar. He felt ashamed, but the feeling wasn’t bigger than the anxiety threatening to punch a hole in his heart.

He tried to relieve the tightening feeling in his chest by letting out a big sigh. It didn’t help.

Seungcheol was sitting at one of the stools, which was one of the places he sits whenever he needs to be handed things from the register. Seungcheol was typing on his phone, but keeping an eye on his bartenders and the waitress… who happened to be his girlfriend too.

“Boss,” Mingyu called softly, biting the dead skin from his bottom lip.

“Mm,” Seungcheol replied, not looking at him.

“Could I take the day off on Sunday?” he asked, turning to face Seungcheol. He planted his elbows on the counter.

Wonwoo stopped what he was doing, lifting his head to listen to the conversation.

“What’s the occasion now?” Seungcheol asked, lowering his phone.

“I need to talk to someone,” Mingyu said, aware that Wonwoo was listening to the conversation now.

“And you need the whole day off to do that?” Seungcheol arched one perfect eyebrow. Then he muffled a laugh. “Oh, are you saying that you’re going to talk with someone?” he emphasized, making the word sound more than it meant.

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but a wave of embarrassment washed over him. “No, boss. I truly need to talk. I don’t know how much time it’s going to take me.”

Seungcheol paused, his dark eyes analyzing the situation briefly. The look on Mingyu’s face must’ve told him something that he wasn’t expressing with words. “Something wrong?” Seungcheol asked quietly. “Did something happen?”

Mingyu straightened, now realizing that he might’ve exacerbated the situation with the worried look on his face and the ominous way he was requesting his day off. “No, hyung—” he cut himself off with a sigh. “Everything’s good, well, as good as it could be.”

Seungcheol frowned, but then it dawned on him, his mouth dropping. “Is this about the girl you were seeing?”

Mingyu blinked, giving him a tiny nod.

Wonwoo lowered the glass he was pretending to clean. The world had stopped for him, but nobody noticed that. Nobody was aware of the way the air disappeared from his lungs, and he was thankful for once for his capacity for keeping a straight face. And honestly, nobody seemed to pay attention to him at all. 

“Didn’t you break things with her a while ago?” Seungcheol asked innocently, clasping his hands beneath his chin. “What happened now?”

Mingyu had a special connection with Seungcheol. Always had it. But ever since he broke up with Gigi, Mingyu had formed a stronger bond with him. Seungcheol understood him better than anyone, given his past and tumultuous experience with love.  

“I saw her,” Mingyu said quietly, driving his gaze to the ceiling. “She was with another guy.”

Wonwoo blinked, straightening his back as he asked, “When?”

Mingyu looked at his best friend briefly, not noticing the change in tone. “Yesterday.”

Seungcheol made an expression, a downturned smile, his eyebrows pinching softly. “What were they doing?”

Mingyu shook his head lightly. “Nothing. Just walking, talking.”

“They were just talking?” Seungcheol huffed, shrugging slightly. “That doesn’t mean anything. It could be her cousin. A friend.”

“I don’t know,” Mingyu shrugged, his expression still riddled with anxiety. “It didn’t look like he was a friend, you know?”

“Did you see his face?” Seungcheol asked.

“No,” Mingyu shook his head. “I couldn’t see. I just saw her and I—” he cut himself off with a sigh, running a hand down his face.

“Why are you so conflicted about this?” Seungcheol asked with genuine curiosity.

Mingyu lifted his face from his palm. “Hyung, if you’d broken up with your girl but wanted her back and then saw her with some new guy, how would you feel?”

Seungcheol’s gaze darkened for a split second. “Like hell,” he conceded. “But I’d know that she owes me nothing. If I had broken up with her, then I’d know she’s free to move on.”

Seungcheol spoke from a real experience, and this was part of why Mingyu had asked him for guidance. And Seungcheol’s words rang with truth and certainty, but they still didn’t make Mingyu see it. The thought of someone else knowing the sound of your laugh, your voice in the mornings—it made him feel sick.

“Look, you have the day off on Sunday,” Seungcheol said after a long minute. “But don’t be one of those weird guys who only chase one girl because she’s moved on with another guy. It isn’t a nice look.”

“No, I’m—I want to apologize,” Mingyu replied, but then he blinked for a long second. 

“Can’t you text her?” Seungcheol arched his eyebrow again. Then he huffed a laugh. “I mean, if you think she’s moved on, then your apology isn’t needed, right?”

Seungcheol had hit the bullseye. Mingyu flinched, his jealousy returning ten times stronger. But maybe she hasn’t moved on, a crazy voice in his head needed to refute. Maybe what he saw didn’t mean a thing.

“I fucked up,” Mingyu mumbled softly, looking down at his hands. “And I want her back, I can’t just text her that.”

Seungcheol sighed, blinking slowly. “Are you asking for my advice?”

Mingyu gnawed on his bottom lip, nodding shyly.

Seungcheol lowered his phone on the counter, placing his palms flat on it too. “If you want her back, fight for her, but do it right. Show her that you are ready for whatever it is you both need in a relationship. Ask yourself, why do you want her? Why do you think you’re good for her? Why is she good for you?”

There was a long moment between them that stretched for some seconds before Seungcheol nodded, happy with his assessment. “I’ll leave you that for homework,” Seungcheol chuckled. “Now get back to work.”

Seungcheol was right, you were free to do whatever you wanted. If you were starting to go out with another man, then he would have to accept it.

What remained a calm shift for Mingyu was the total opposite for Wonwoo.

The tight feeling coiling around his throat was making it hard for him to breathe.

Mingyu had seen him and you. It was over. He needed to come clean. He needed to tell Mingyu about the night that started it all—his affair with you, and eventually everything that led to this point.

For the remainder of the shift, Wonwoo said nothing, feeling like whatever he said right now could come back to make him look bad. Or worse—a hypocrite. He knew now that he was entering an even more dangerous territory than before, and he needed to play his cards right.

When it was time for closing up, Wonwoo finished his usual tasks quickly—keeping his thoughts to himself usually led him to work faster. So when he sat alone in his old Hyundai, waiting for Mingyu, he thought of what to say.

He hated this.

There was usually no contempt in his heart. He understood that it was his fault that put him in this position, between Mingyu and you.

But he hated that Mingyu figured out what he wanted after he walked away. And not even that, he had multiple opportunities to walk back into your life, but never took them.

And now that Mingyu saw you’d moved on, now he wants to reclaim you? Fight harder for you?

Wonwoo hated that he kissed you so soon after you and Mingyu stopped seeing each other. Timing mattered so much. If things had happened just a few weeks later, maybe none of this would feel so sticky.

Maybe he wouldn’t have started to hope. To fall for you.

But he had.

And now Mingyu was talking about wanting you back. About regrets.

But Mingyu wasn’t there to see you cry.

Wonwoo was the one who was there with you the night you felt like you weren’t enough. Like you were someone to discard after being used. Mingyu wasn’t there to see the aftermath of his choices.

And maybe it was Wonwoo’s fault for falling for you. When he started talking to you, he hadn’t meant for this to happen. But it had. He fell for you. That was something he couldn’t take back because that was the truth.

Wonwoo wasn’t sure if it was guilt or rage crawling beneath his skin. Guilt for hiding the truth from Mingyu. Rage because Mingyu realized he wanted you again only after losing you.

Mingyu opened the door to the car, climbing into the passenger seat with a sigh. “Let’s go,” he said tiredly.

“Can I ask you a question?” Wonwoo said quietly.

Mingyu paused, setting his backpack on his lap. “Sure, what’s up?” 

“You had so many chances to walk back into her life,” he said. “Why now?”

Mingyu blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You told me so many times you wanted to call her, text her, but you never did,” he shrugged, keeping his tone calm. “So why now?”

Mingyu sat back on the seat. “I just didn’t feel ready, you know?” he replied, pouting slightly. “I felt like I would only mess up things more.”

“So you’re ready now?” Wonwoo asked softly, his heart beating rapidly, robbing him of the ability to breathe easily.

Mingyu chewed on his lip, giving it careful thought before nodding. “Like I said the last time we talked about this—I want her back.”

“And that last time you said you didn’t know what you were doing,” Wonwoo reminded him. He didn’t raise his tone, but struggled to keep it light. “So now, what is it? You saw her with someone else and changed your mind?”

Mingyu straightened. “No, it’s not like that. I know that’s how it looks like but it’s not like that.”

Wonwoo blinked, still trying to get Mingyu’s side of things.

But something was missing.

“Then explain it to me,” Wonwoo said. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re fighting for her once you saw her with another guy. Something you weren’t ready for the first time. Remember? You told me you weren’t all in.”

Mingyu lowered his gaze. “It’s because of Gigi.”

Wonwoo frowned, something inside him stirring with rage again. But he kept it under control. “What does Gigi have to do with all of this?” 

But Mingyu’s gaze was lost, his fingers fidgeting with the strap of his backpack anxiously. “I never told you. She cheated on me. With her boss. She did it for weeks while she was still with me.”

Wonwoo went rigid and cold with a powerful shudder. The rage simmering inside him fell quiet too. “What? How?”

Mingyu sighed, blinking slowly. “She would tell me she had these important meetings that extended until late. And I never thought too much about it because she was just promoted. I thought she was just excited and working hard. But… the things she used to say and do weren’t just making sense anymore—like staying up all night working, or going to work on weekends.”

Wonwoo swallowed hard, something deeper than guilt and regret boiling deep inside him as he watched his best friend’s lip quiver, his gaze turned to his lap. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his apology heavy with significance.

“Yeah,” Mingyu whispered, shrugging slightly. “At least her mean attitude towards me made it easier to break up with her, you know?” he smiled bitterly. “But I never told anyone. I was ashamed.”

Wonwoo held his breath, suddenly remembering something. “But you told her.”

He remembered the day he saw you in that cafeteria. “I knew what I was getting myself into”, you had said. And Wonwoo always sat with the thought that you meant that you knew Mingyu was looking for fun. For something casual.

But now, it made sense.

Mingyu nodded. “I thought I was past it when I met her. I thought I could be with someone new and start fresh. But I couldn’t,” he muttered, his voice breaking at the last part of the sentence. “I kept waiting for something to go wrong. I kept thinking I was going to fuck things up. And I thought I was making the right choice—ending things before I hurt her.”

Wonwoo just stared at him. Completely stunned. Something in his chest shifted. “You left because you were scared.”

Mingyu nodded. “And I hated myself for it.”

The silence inside the car was heavy with reluctance. Wonwoo didn’t know what to do or what to say. His heart was even more conflicted than it was before.

“Seeing her with someone else made me go insane,” Mingyu confessed with a bitter laugh, looking out the window in utter shame. “I know that I lost her. I let her go. And I don’t know if I can get her back now.”

Wonwoo looked down at his lap, his hands fidgeting with the keys of his car. Now his decision to tell Mingyu was even more uncertain. Because the one thing he’d told himself to justify how close he’d gotten to you was that Mingyu had used you as a temporary fix.

And now he realized that wasn’t even true anymore.

“Hey,” Wonwoo whispered, waiting for Mingyu to lift his gaze back to him. “I’m sorry I doubted you. And I’m sorry about what happened with Gigi. You never deserved that.”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t know,” Mingyu shrugged, giving him a tiny smile. “This whole thing is a fucking mess.”

Wonwoo sighed. “You’re right about that,” he said, lifting a hand to palm Mingyu’s shoulder.

He turned the engine on, and the drive back home was quiet, dedicated to reflecting.

Inevitably, Wonwoo thought about you. Even though he got an insight into Mingyu’s story, he couldn’t help but think that you were hurt about this too. Knowing now that Mingyu got cheated on changed things for Wonwoo. It made him feel even more guilty.

But it still didn’t move his feelings for you.

He parked outside the building, and Mingyu geared up to climb out of the car.

“You go, I have to make a call,” Wonwoo explained softly.

Mingyu clicked his tongue. “Are you going to tell me about this… mysterious person you’re seeing?” he grinned.

Wonwoo’s heart twisted painfully. “Yeah, one day,” he replied, forcing a smile on his face.

“Right. See you, then,” Mingyu said, understanding that Wonwoo's “calling” someone meant something else.

He obviously didn’t suspect that it was you Wonwoo was calling.

Wonwoo turned the engine off, palming the steering wheel with a sigh.

The next movements were performed mechanically. As though everything in his body was refusing to get to your door, but he had to push himself to do it. He’d texted you beforehand, so you were already waiting for him at the door when he knocked two times.

You opened the door, stepping aside for him to come in. There was a subtle air surrounding you when he stepped into your apartment, as though you already knew what was going on. He’d tell you he was coming to yours to talk about something. Didn’t mention what. 

“Hi,” he said softly, now knowing what to do with his body.

He wanted to hug you, to feel your arms circle him as he walked in—to kiss you like real lovers did.

“Hey there,” you mumbled sweetly.

Wonwoo blinked slowly, letting out the words you already knew he’d say. “We need to talk.”

Your shoulders slacked a little. You had been hoping this moment wouldn’t arrive, but you nodded bravely. “Did something happen?” you asked first, your eyebrows knitting softly in worry.

Wonwoo nodded, carefully removing his shoes and leaving them by the entrance. You motioned silently to the couch, and he followed you there. You sat by one end, far apart from him, to look in his face.

He sighed softly, turning on his seat so he could also look at you. “Mingyu knows.”

You held your breath, your eyes outlining the features of his face cautiously. “How did he find out?” you asked, then a pause. “Did you tell him?”

Wonwoo shook his head, not finding it offensive that you’d think he would tell Mingyu before consulting with you first. “That’s the thing, he doesn’t know it’s me. He just saw us the other day.”

Perplexion hardened the features of your face, making it hard to muster up a reaction. “Okay,” you mumbled, feeling lost. “Do you think is a good idea to tell him?” you asked, looking at the features of his face.   

You understood that Mingyu was Wonwoo’s best friend. His roommate and coworker, things were complicated already. But there was something else tensing the air between you and Wonwoo.

He tilted his head to one side, licking his lips as though lost for words. “He was outside your building when he saw us,” he started explaining, and your heart jolted at the sound of those words. “He was here to talk to you.”

“Why?” The word fell quietly from your lips.

You could tell that he was trying to say the next words carefully, but there was no way he could hold their impact: “He was here to ask you for a second chance,” he mumbled gently, but even his eyes glinted with sadness.

“What?” You blurted, feeling like you were being played some kind of joke.

Wonwoo understood you well. But this was the first time he felt outright confused by your reaction. “I didn’t know his ex cheated on him,” he said, reading your reaction.

You blinked in surprise, breath catching in your throat. You knew Mingyu hadn’t revealed this part of the story to anyone out of shame. And your reaction told Wonwoo that you were already aware of this.

“And not knowing this gave me the wrong impression when he broke things with you,” he continued, blinking away from your face. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the icky feeling building up. “I thought he’d used you. Regretted it later.”

“Well, you’re technically not wrong there,” you said with a stiff, bitter laugh.

But then Wonwoo gave you a look. One that had a million words but just one sentiment, like saying, the truth will only break your heart. A pause—choosing to go forward with it or just holding it back.

“I don’t think he did,” he whispered, struggling to get the words out. “At least not on purpose.”

It was as though you were plunged back in time. Back to the basketball court. You were sitting on those damn bleachers, looking at Mingyu, his tortured face as he told you he needed to cut things off with you. You blinked hard, sighing out the pain constricting your chest.

He regretted cutting things off with you. He wanted a second chance.

You looked around, fingers shaking slightly when you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Have a glass of wine with me,” you said, feeling breathless.

Wonwoo stopped, but then he saw the look on your face. He allowed himself to really see it this time. You looked tense, and he could see in your eyes that you were ready to cry. “Sure,” he replied, keeping an eye on you.

You rose to your feet, getting the bottle of wine you had stashed in the kitchen cabinet. Mingyu knows, the thought echoed inside your head, creating a painful ripple in your heart. You sniffled, harder this time, as you searched for the bottle opener.

Wonwoo stood up the moment he heard you sob, concern taking over him as you tried to push yourself through opening the bottle. You stuck the corkscrew, twisting it as tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, but you held them there.

He brought a hand to your shoulder, trying to call your attention back to him, to snap you out of the task you were so determined to get done without crying.

But you ignored his hand, pulling the corkscrew out successfully. “I need two glasses,” you mumbled, almost as if you were talking to yourself.

“Hey,” Wonwoo called softly, but you turned around, opening the other cabinet as you searched for a glass of wine.

“I only have one glass for wine,” you said, your voice already constipated due to all the tears you were trying to hold back. You set the glass down. “I’ll use a mug.”

Wonwoo sighed, grabbing the bottle and pushing it aside as you were turning around with a mug in your hand. “Stop,” he said, taking a step closer towards you.

“What?” you snapped, lifting your head to face him.

“Stop for a second,” he mumbled with a gentler tone this time. “Let’s talk about this.”

You blinked slowly, letting go of a pair of big tears. “I don’t have anything to say.”

Then you turned, grabbing the bottle of wine to pour half of it in the large mug you’d pulled out.

“You’re using alcohol as an outlet,” he blurted, trying to bring some sense to you.

“So what?” you replied heedlessly, taking a big gulp. You sniffled with a hint of annoyance, using your hands to brush your tears away. “I’m tired of crying,” you gasped, burying your face in your hands.

Wonwoo’s heart jolted painfully, his eyebrows knitting in worry. “There’s nothing wrong with crying. It’s completely normal,” he replied.

“No, it’s not!” You said, your voice breaking mid-sentence. “I’m tired of this. And it’s not getting better!” You lifted your face from your hands. “I’m not getting better.”

He blinked at you, feeling perplexed. There were no words to make you see that you’d been getting better, at least to him. There was a spark in your eyes that wasn’t there before, you were laughing more, and you were eager to do things again.

The fact was, you were trying to get better. Every day, you challenged yourself to push yourself forward. But, something or someone always ruined things for you. Your shitty ex, Mingyu’s indecisiveness, and now…

Wonwoo’s heart caved in. If he hadn’t given in to his feelings and kissed you that night, you wouldn’t be crying right now. This was his fault. He could’ve walked away after kissing you, but no—he slept with you, allowing you to become the subject of every waking thought he had.

He was in love with you. But caught now in a predicament. One that had no pretty outcome.

You lowered your head, sniffling quietly as you held onto the counter. Wonwoo blinked, the image before him becoming reminiscent of the night he kissed you for the first time.

You’d been getting better, yes. But it was the people around you who were stopping you at each step you made.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

You stilled, processing the words for a moment. “What? Why?” You asked, lifting your head to find his gaze.

“I’m making things worse for you,” he explained with a pained tone. “Listen, I can deal with Mingyu, tell him about us if you want me to. But I don’t want this to hurt you anymore.” 

You frowned, thrown back by his words. “You-you’re—” you stammered, then paused to take a breath. “What are you saying?”

“If I’m making things difficult for you, I should step back,” he told you stiffly, as though holding his true feelings just to do the right thing for you.

You let out a tiny gasp, understanding dawning on you. “No, I don’t want you to leave,” you told him, and then, with a fragile tone, “Please don’t leave.”

His heart rested easy at the sound of your pleas.

When you and Wonwoo started… whatever your relationship was, he knew that he was the rebound. There was no need for either of you to say it. You were hurting, alone, and he was there to pick up the pieces.

But your relationship had evolved into something more. And there was no way either of you could’ve stopped it. There was an inexplicable connection between you that wasn’t just based on sexual synergy. You trusted Wonwoo—to the extent that you had found more than comfort in him.

He didn’t move. If he stayed, then he would owe Mingyu a bigger explanation. Because one thing was to be with you because he thought that he was being your rebound. But it was different to be with you, knowing full well that Mingyu—his best friend—still loved you.

He hated to be between you and Mingyu.

Why did he have to lose one of you to have a resolve?

You saw the stiffness of his posture, the hesitation in him. You took one careful step towards him, your teary eyes searching his face. “I-if you want to go, I won’t stop you. But don’t go because you think you’re doing what’s best for me.”

His eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of concern and confusion. He asked himself when was the moment he lost control. Would it have been the moment you kissed you for the first time? Because looking into your eyes, he was sure it was much earlier.

Silence stretched between you, and real fear began to show in your eyes. You held your breath, gearing up to hear him say that he couldn’t do this anymore. Gearing up to watch him walk away from you. Like everyone always did. 

It always happened. You should just be getting used to it by now.

“I don’t think I want to leave,” he finally said, his tone dejected in a way that only told you this decision was hard for him.

You met his gaze again. Wonwoo had made his choice. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his heart was racing, but you could see the quiet resolve on his face.

His features softened. “We need to come clean,” he told you. “We have to tell Mingyu. And I think the best way to do it is if I tell him.”

You nodded slowly, and the heavy weight in your chest became more unbearable. “And then what?”

He stilled, knowing what you meant. “Whatever you decide to do. When we come down to it.”

You took in a deep breath, lowering your gaze. Wonwoo’s hand was planted on the counter, a few inches from yours. You slid your hand across, sheepishly touching his fingers slowly at first.

Wonwoo turned his hand over, tangling his fingers with yours. He stared at your linked hands for a second, as you brushed the back of his hand with the pad of your thumb. “I don’t want you to feel pressured by this.”

You huffed with a hint of bitterness. “Too late for that,” you whispered.

Wonwoo showed you a sad smile. He felt your soft fingers playing with his, wishing he could get an opportunity to turn things around. “You know, when you asked me if I wished things happened differently between us, I said sometimes?” he whispered, looking at your hand locked in his.

“Yeah?” you raised your head, looking at his eyes, but he kept them lowered.

He licked his lips, pressing them into a line. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances,” he muttered, his tone quivering slightly.

You held your breath, your heart stammering wildly. “Why?” you asked softly.

He raised his gaze, locking it with yours. “So I would’ve been able to ask you out, get to know you without fear or prejudice about what might happen.”

And fall in love with you without feeling so guilty about it.

Wonwoo was wrong about one thing. He knew he wasn’t a romantic man. He was never one for theatrics or big displays of love. But one thing hit him. No, Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t a romantic man. He was a devoted one.

You lowered your face. “That would’ve been lovely,” you said.

He removed his hand from yours so he could cup your face with his hands, forcing your gaze to him. “But whatever happens, I want you to know that I don’t regret us.”

A sob tore through you. “I don’t regret it either,” you admitted.

It was complicated. To love two people at once. To sit with the fact that choosing one will break the other. But no matter how much you wished things had happened differently, you didn’t regret meeting Mingyu, nor Wonwoo.

Wonwoo leaned forward, and you met him halfway in a brief kiss. Feeling his lips on yours was liberating in a way. Despite everything that was happening, you felt alive in every kiss of his. At least for one more night.

He slipped his hands from your face to your neck, grabbing it gently as he continued making out with you. The kiss was growing more and more demanding, his tongue brushing yours, his lips making a smacking noise against yours every time either of you moved.

You back away slightly, and he understood you wanted to pause, leaning his forehead against yours. “Are you staying tonight?” you asked, your tone quivering slightly.

“Do you want me to?”

You cupped his cheek with your hand, brushing his skin with the pad of your thumb. “Yeah. Always,” you whispered.

“Then ask me to stay,” he replied in kind.

“Please stay the night,” you told him, breaking away from him to look him in the eyes.

Wonwoo smiled softly. “Okay,” he said, using his hands that were on your neck to bring you in for another kiss.

You hummed into the kiss, unable to do anything but give in to it. You loved it. His kiss was always captivating, he was gentle in his touch, but rough enough to make you feel how much he needed you.

And he did. Ever since he kissed you for the first time, he hasn’t been able to get you out of his mind.

But he liked it.

Your hand found his chest, getting a feel of the muscle definition between his pecs through his t-shirt. His breath hitched, the sound soft but noticeable as he kept kissing you. But your hand kept travelling further down, feeling the lines and dents between the muscles of his abdomen, and his breathing shifted.

Your fingers sneaked beneath his t-shirt, feeling his skin. You planted your hand on the lower part of his torso, the pads of your thumb brushing against the soft hairs of his happy trail.

Wonwoo broke away with a loud smacking noise of his lips and yours. “You’re playing with fire,” he mumbled, his voice raspy and so low.

“So what?” you replied, this time your voice was honeyed and low like a purr. “If I continue like this, I might get what I want.”

“What do you want?” he asked, shuddering slightly when your hand moved up his torso, making its way back to his chest, but now underneath his clothes.

“I want you, Wonwoo,” you whispered. Then something invaded you, and you knew what it was. The same reason why you resorted to drinking whenever you felt like reality was the bitterest thing you’ve ever had.

Wonwoo made things easier. He made you feel alive.

“Then take me,” he whispered back, tilting his head slightly, the tip of his nose bumping into yours. “Tell me how you want me, baby.”

Your entire body was shaking, brimming with so much need that you felt like combusting. Part of you felt alarmed, pathetic. Wanting him so much was becoming your addiction.

But you didn’t care.

You loved it when he fucked you, hard and deep. But this time… this time you wanted to please him.

“I want to make you feel good,” you told him, leaning your face to kiss him.

But he pulled back, making you chase his lips. “How?”

You stopped for a second, backing away to look at his face. You tilted your head to one side, aware of his hands on your neck. “Just relax while I make you feel good, hm?” you said with a sweet tone.

Wonwoo laughed softly, closing the space between his lips and yours with a sweet kiss. “Yes, ma’am,” he breathed.

You took his hand, removing it from your neck to pull him towards the couch, debating in your head as to how to start doing this. There were so many things you wanted to do, but reminiscing about the last time you both had sex, there was one thing you hadn’t gotten the chance to do.

You started to remove his clothes, one by one, without pausing to admire his body yet. That was something you’d do later. But first, you needed to get him naked.

And he didn’t question you, he just helped you as you struggled to get his jeans off, or when you removed his t-shirt and messed up his glasses, and he laughed, placing them back on the bridge of his nose. He noticed you were nervous, but didn’t say a word about it.

Because when you finally got every single item of clothes off, you could get to do what you were fantasizing about since the last night he fucked you.

But first, you explored his bare body, running your palms from his chest to his abdomen, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. And he reciprocated the kiss, touching your lips tenderly at first.

“Don’t I get to take your clothes off?” he whispered, but to you, it sounded like the sexiest thing he could say.

“If you want to,” you whispered back.

“Of course I do,” he said, his fingers fumbling with the hem of your t-shirt, which you wore to sleep. So he knew what he was going to find when he took it off. And that was that you wore no bra, and his hands could explore your skin freely.

He didn’t stop kissing you, his hands roving on your skin, feeling the deep line of your back before circling back to your chest. A moan was muffled in his lips when he started cupping your tits, his fingers playing with your nipples, teasing them and making your walls clench around nothing.

“Do you know how much I love these?” he said, his tone waning a little over the pleasure he felt just from touching you.

“You do?” you asked sultrily, looking at his face while his hands played with your tits.

He breathed in deeply, nodding as his hands squeezed them gently, the tips of his fingers dipping onto your soft skin.

You closed your eyes, shuddering slightly when his thumbs brushed over your pebbled nipples once more. He slipped his hands down, then to your lower back, to pull you closer, your chest pressed to his.

“Take these off,” he whispered, lifting the elastic band of your sweatpants and letting it slap back against your skin. You pushed the sweatpants, letting them drop to the floor and stepped out of them, kicking them aside.

You darted a look at his eyes, then his lips. “Can I suck you off?”

“You don’t have to ask,” he smirked slightly. “I’m all yours.”

A tiny gasp escaped your lips before you pressed them against his, kissing him swiftly once before pulling away from him. Then, you meekly turned around, grabbed a cushion from the couch and dropped it on the floor, just between your feet and his.

Wonwoo watched you, a ghost of a smile on his face as you sank to your knees, using the cushion as support. You looked back up, he was using his hand to put his glasses back in place, his thumb and index finger touching the black rim of his glasses carefully.

God, he’s so hot and unaware of how much that turns you on, you thought as you let your body rule you, taking his hard cock in your hand, fingers circling its shaft. You felt his eyes on you as you pulled your tongue out, giving him a long and generous stroke from the base to the tip of his cock. You glided the tip of your tongue around his cockhead, tracing a circle before wrapping your mouth around it and started to suck.

But you were just teasing him a little, before you got to suck him off. You pulled your mouth back, letting your lips smack loudly around the head, and then teased him again with broad strokes, letting your spit cover his shaft completely, messily.

Your lashes were lowered, so you didn’t see his reaction, but you heard it—he breathed in loudly, letting a deep groan resound in his chest. You could almost picture him, clenching his jaw, closing his eyes.

A hand came to the side of your head, his lithe fingers tangling in your hair just lightly. That’s when you dared to look up—your gaze locking with his immediately. Wonwoo caressed your cheek with his thumb, bringing his other hand to match the other, now grabbing your head.

You let your mouth relax, gliding it back and forth on his cock. Wonwoo parted his lips, blinking slowly at the image of his cock inside your mouth, your pretty lips around it.

“A-ah, fuck,” he whispered slowly, sighing through it. “Fuck, that’s good.”

You rolled your tongue around his cockhead, making him moan as you pushed him back in as far as you could.

But he was big, and you struggled every time he reached the back of your mouth. You pulled your mouth back, hollowing out your cheeks and making obscenely lewd sounds with your lips around him.

You got more and more aroused with the sounds he made, which he tried to keep quiet and in check. His throat bobbed every time he tried not to moan, but he shuddered, sighed, and bit his bottom lip, making you repeat everything that made him do those things.

“I’m close, baby,” he said with a hint of urgency, grabbing your head to pull back gently.

A string of drool hung between your mouth and the tip of his cock. He was completely covered with your spit, from the tip to the hilt, and it seemed insane to you for a second that the sight of it made you even more aroused. A shudder ran from your nape to your lower back.

“I want to keep going,” you said, glancing at his eyes.

“If we keep going, I’ll cum in your mouth,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping his lips. The tips of his ears were red, as though the act made him feel shy, embarrassed that he couldn’t last longer while he was in your mouth.

“What if I want that?” you asked slowly, also feeling shy as you said the words.

He debated it for a second. But you knew he would give in. The tip of his cock was swollen, and red, its shaft slick with your spit and the thick vein that trailed to his base was also flared.

You ran a finger from his happy trail to the lower part of his shaft and then looked into his eyes. “Do you want to fuck my mouth, Wonwoo?”

He swallowed hard, the features of his face shifting and hardening slightly. “Open your mouth,” he instructed, his hands tightening his grip around your hair without pulling it.

You opened your mouth for him, letting your tongue hang slightly as you locked eyes with him.

He rested the first couple of inches of his cock on your tongue, his thumb pressing on your temple just slightly. “Take a deep breath for me, baby,” he said with a low rasp. 

You blinked, but out of the euphoric feeling that rushed down your spine. You breathed through your nose deeply, and it was when you exhaled that he pushed his cock deeper into your mouth, starting to fuck it with slow, tentative thrusts.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, watching you take him almost to the hilt. “You take me so well.”

You held onto his hips, feeling his muscles tense and shift as he pushed in and out of your mouth. His mouth went slack, his eyelids falling heavy as he let out a raw moan.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

His strokes were still slow, but each time you took him deeper, gagging softly when he started to reach the back of your mouth.

“Breathe, baby,” he reminded you. “You’re doing so good, just breathe. That’s it, that’s it,” he tilted his head back, pushing his cock deeper, and deeper.

Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes, which he caught quickly with the pads of his thumbs. Keeping your head angled for him as he continued fucking your mouth slowly. The pleasure on his face was evident—his mouth was parted, his breaths were laboured, blinking slowly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered hurriedly, pulling his cock back from your throat but keeping it in your mouth. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, baby—” he sighed, deeply, his chest heaving as he started moaning repeatedly.

Spurts of cum landed on the back of your tongue, warm and abundant, almost making you cough and choke. But you swallowed every last drop of it, looking at him through your teary eyelashes.

He was panting, a complete mess of tired moans and half-babbles. “So good,” was one thing you could make out.

He pulled out of your mouth gently, letting you breathe and swallow back the taste of him. You raised your gaze, catching his as he lowered himself to his knees.

“Lie back, baby,” he said, motioning to the floor behind you.

“What?” you asked dumbly.

“Let me repay in kind,” he mumbled, trapping your lips with his in a swift kiss. He hummed, kissing you again but deeper, his tongue rolling inside your mouth, and obviously tasting himself.

“I’m good,” you whispered. “You must be tired.”

“I said,” he pushed your shoulder with one hand. “Lie back.”

You giggled, following his words without anything else to say. You looked at him as he moved the cushion aside, his hands moving to grab the band of your panties, pulling them down your legs.

Then he crawled on top of you, pressing his body on yours, but without lowering his full weight on you. “You were so good, baby,” he praised, his tone low and gentle at the same time.

You slipped your hands on his nape, pulling him for a long kiss, feeling his tongue with yours, his lips fitting in yours so well. It was like you were meant for each other.

He paused, pulling away from your lips for a second. You watched him as he grabbed his glasses by one of the temples, pulling them on in one complete motion. “Hold these for me?”

You nodded, exchanging a quick look with him as you grabbed his glasses by the rim, folding them in your hand as he moved on your body. He made a trail of kisses, pressing his lips on your cheek, your jawline, the crook of your neck.

And when he reached your chest, his hands cupped your tits again, but now squeezing them a little harder as he kissed the swell of your chest, humming against your skin. You moaned, grabbing a fistful of hair, when the tip of his tongue swirled around one of your nipples.

The sensation of his wet tongue against your nipples made your pussy clench again, having you close your thighs instinctively. “Wonwoo,” you moaned with urgency.

He made no verbal reply, instead, he continued to descend with his trail of kisses. He kissed your tummy, his hands leaving your chest and caressing your torso, feeling the curve of your waist and pressing on your hips.

He planted open-mouthed kisses on your lower tummy, wetting his lips before he suckled on your skin.

You flinched. “Wonwoo!” You gasped, lifting your head to see him suck a new spot on your skin, marking you with hickeys.

But he paid no attention to the warning in your tone. He kissed your mound, your thighs, leaving angry red spots scattered all over your skin.

You moaned pathetically as he marked your inner thighs, leaving a tingling sensation all over your skin. You called his name one more time, his breath fanning on your sensitive skin, making you sigh a moan.

“Please…” you whispered, swallowing hard as he kissed the top of your mound.

And then he slipped his tongue between your pussy lips, bringing two fingers to part your folds, licking you thoroughly, covering your pussy with his kisses, licking and nipping just to tease you.

You felt like you were slowly going insane. He was practically making out with your pussy, tasting and drinking you in—but never quite doing what he knew made you cum.

“Wonwoo, please,” you mewled, closing your eyes and tightening your hand around his hair. “Just, make me cum.”

He hummed against your pussy, as though acknowledging your plea but not really caring about it.

So you begged.

“Please, please, please, Wonwoo,” you said, trying to buckle your hips against his mouth, but he pushed you back down onto the floor effortlessly.

You gasped, feeling his tongue circling your clit, but then sliding it back to your entrance, dipping it just slightly inside your pussy. “God, fuck, Wonwoo, please,” you gasped.

He let out a sound. And after some seconds, it dawned on you that it had been a laugh.

“Babe, please!” you cried. And to add to it, you raked your fingernails on his scalp, pulling his hair harshly.

That did it. Wonwoo moaned into your pussy, giving into your plea and giving you exactly what you wanted.

His lips wrapped around your swollen clit, pushing his tongue against it and gently jabbing it from side to side, teasing it expertly.

You arched your back on the floor, your fingers twisting around his hair as you moaned loudly. “Fuck, Wonwoo, yes!” you gasped as pure pleasure bloomed inside you, from the pit of your stomach to your face. “Just like that, baby,” you said, with a high-pitched tone that sounded nothing like yourself.

But he didn’t relent, pleasuring and teasing your clit like his life depended on it. He didn’t switch the motion of his tongue, nor the pace, his breathing becoming notoriously more ragged against your skin.

“I’m close, I’m close, babe…” You said, writhing on the floor, inching closer and closer to your orgasm. “Don’t stop, please.”

And he didn’t, his tongue kept the same pattern until you couldn’t hold it anymore. Your eyes squeezed shut, seeing stars as waves of sweet, sweet pleasure washed over you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck,” you sighed, over and over, cumming on his mouth like you’d never before. Your orgasm was so brutal, so merciless that it had you shaking, panting and moaning desperately.

You signalled him to stop, patting his head softly.

Wonwoo let out a deep breath, resting his head on your tummy as he caught his breath.

“God, that was amazing,” you sighed, still shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “That felt so good.”

“Yeah?” he smiled tiredly. “I’m glad, baby.”

“Yeah…” you replied, about to say thank you to him, the thought making you laugh lightly.

“What’s that?” he asked, squinting a little.

“Nothing,” you sighed, feeling breathless still. But that didn’t stop you. You were still on a mission. “Sit back,” you told him suddenly.

“What?”

“Sit with your back against the couch.” You ordered, moving your body underneath him.

That made him lift his head from your tummy, pushing his body up with a sigh. “Okay,” he said slowly, following your command. “Can I have my glasses back?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” you said with a light giggle.

“Thank you, baby,” he said, putting his glasses back on, blinking at you as you quite literally crawled up to him.

You held onto the couch behind him for support, crossing one leg on top of him, his hands instantly grabbing you by the hips as you straddled him.

“Are you ready for me, babe?” you asked, your tone honeyed and raspy at the same time.  

He blinked, his eyes finding your face. There was a twinge of surprise on his face that was quickly overpowered by a smile, spreading on his features slowly. “I like it when you call me babe,” he rasped, using his hands to sit you down on him.

You could feel his hard cock beside your thigh. “Yeah?” you smiled sweetly at him.

He nodded. “Drives me crazy,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss your lips tenderly.

“Hhmm,” you let out a sigh against his lips. “You drive me a little crazy,” you told him.

“I know,” he replied, giggling softly as you continued planting soft pecks on his lips.

“Oh, yeah?” you challenged, “How do you know?”

He brought one hand to your nape, kissing you deeper. “You’re about to ride my cock, baby,” he said with a playfulness masking his tone.

“My cock,” you said, pressing your lips on his again.

That robbed him of words, making him tilt his head to one side ever so slightly. “Oh, is that how it is?” he raised his eyebrows. “Your cock?”

You nodded. “You said you were all mine, so,” you giggled, moving your hips back and grabbing his cock with one hand.

His gaze darkened as he followed your movements, biting his lower lip as you slid the tip of his cock between your folds. A moan escaped your mouth when you felt just how wet you were, his cockhead practically gliding down to your entrance.

But his hand clenched around your hip. “I wanna hear you say it,” he rasped.

You paused, holding his gaze intently. It took you some seconds to realize. “You’re mine,” you whispered.

He closed his mouth, grinding his teeth as he nodded. “I’m yours,” he replied, watching you sit down on his cock.

“Is this cock mine too?” You gasped softly, not hiding the stinging in your eyes as his cock stretched your walls deliciously.

He swallowed hard, tilting his head back as you bottomed out on him. “All yours,” he breathed, blinking slowly.

“Mine,” you mumbled almost absentmindedly, the feeling of being so full of him overpowered everything else, making your mind go blank.

“Uh-huh,” he mouthed, his voice almost gone as you started bouncing on him. He watched you work, his hand still on your hip while the other circled your neck, the palm of his hand resting on your jugular.

His gaze fell on your lips, then trailed back to your eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered when you caught his eye.

You leaned over, kissing him softly as you kept riding him, moving your hips slowly, feeling him fully.

But it was becoming uncomfortable for your knees, even if you had a good support and the floor was better than the bed. You pulled one knee out, planting the sole of your foot on the floor for better support, swaying your hips on him effortlessly now.

“Hold onto my shoulders,” he instructed with a gentle tone, noticing that you were still holding onto the couch behind him.

You followed his words, switching your hands to his broad and lean shoulders. You looked at his face, his messy hair, and full lips, chapped from kissing you so many times.

“You’re beautiful too,” you told him.

He showed you a small smile, but said nothing else as he watched you fuck him. “You feel so good,” he mumbled, his tone raw and raspy as he swallowed hard.

“Yeah?” you sighed, bringing your hips up and down more arduously, the sound of skin slapping against his was now becoming more obvious to the neighbors. If it wasn't already obvious enough.

His hand remained on your neck, pulling you gently to kiss you, his lips trapping yours fervently.

You sighed heavily, out of both exhaustion and the urgency to cum. Fucking him like this made you feel fuller, his cock slipping inside you deeper each time you slammed your hips down on him.

But Wonwoo noticed, from the sound of your lewd and whiny gasps to the exhaustion in your face. “Stroke yourself,” he said.

You removed your hand from one of his shoulders, but before taking it between your thighs, you paused right before his mouth. Wonwoo watched you as your fingertips hovered before his lips for just one second before he took your fingers inside your mouth.

You moaned at both the sight and the feeling of his warm mouth around your fingers. You pulled them out once they were coated with his spit, and took them to your pussy. You started rubbing fast swirls around your clit, nearly screaming from the pleasure building inside you.

“Fuck,” he whispered, switching his hand from your neck to your hips, now both of his hands circling back to your ass, clenching gently, and helping you move on him.

The features of his face were riddled with pleasure, and he swallowed back his moans, clenching his jaw without removing his gaze from you. You knew he was close, but holding himself back for you.

There it was again, as you both looked in each other’s eyes, that electric feeling hung in the air between you. You were both moaning each other’s names, unable to look away or to do anything else but get more and more pleasure from each other’s bodies.

You loved him. You were addicted to him.

“You’re mine, baby,” he whispered, blinking slowly at you. “You’re fucking mine.”

Your mouth parted, letting out a whiny and high-pitched moan. “Wonwoo—”

He felt your body tremble, and he nodded. “Cum for me, baby,” he said. “That’s it, that’s it. Let go for me.”

Your head lolled back. Once again, the pleasure inside you overwhelmed you to the point that your mind went blank. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting out a series of loud moans, crying out his name as you bounced on his cock, cumming hard around him.

And he followed, unable to hold his orgasm once your pussy started to tighten around him. “Oh, god,” he gasped. “Fuck.”

His hands helped you ride him until you couldn’t do it anymore, your body going completely limp on top of him.

You were panting, sweaty, and a complete mess. And Wonwoo was too. He let his head rest back on the couch behind him, his cock buried deep inside you still.

Breathing hard, you leaned your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapping around you as you both came down from your high.

None of you said a word. Just let the peace blanket over you.

His hands caressed your back, his breath becoming more even. “Baby,” he mumbled after some minutes had passed. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”

“Mmn,” you hummed against the curve of his neck, pressing a sweet kiss on his skin.

He flinched, laughing as your breath fanned against his skin. “Come on, baby,” he said, his tone heavy with tiredness.

“Okay,” you replied, pushing your body back.

You looked down, lifting your body just slightly before you felt it.

You were dripping wet. Cum spilled out before you could even lift your hips off Wonwoo’s cock. A light laugh slipped past your lips as you felt the warm liquid run down your inner thigh.

His hand sneaked between your thighs, stopping the cum from travelling further down. “Look at the mess you’re making,” he chastised, clicking his tongue sternly. But there was a playful look on his face as he glanced at you.

“Me?” you asked in faux disbelief. “It’s your mess. I didn’t know you were going to cum this much,” you giggled, cringing at the sound of your words.

Wonwoo laughed darkly. “You have a filthy mouth, babygirl,” he said, sticking his fingers coated with his cum inside your mouth without a warning.

You licked his fingers clean, your lips making a small popping sound as he pulled them out. “I may have a filthy mouth, but you seemed to love it like two minutes ago,” you said, biting back a smile.

His mouth dropped open, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Get up before I spank you silly.”

“Sounds like a good time to me,” you said, giggling as you got up, hurrying to the bathroom.

He followed you inside, practically chasing you. He trapped you in his arms, making you squeal and giggle as his hands clenched around very sensitive parts of your waist.

“You’re very naughty,” he said, but there was a slight hint of cuteness aggression marking the features of his face.

“You like me anyway,” you snapped, trying to get to the shower tap, which you turned once it was within your reach.  

“I do,” he whispered, his gaze falling to your lips.

You stilled, the sound from the shower filling the silence. You looked into his eyes, feeling like there was more to his words.

You stood on your tiptoes, hands grabbing his face to kiss him deeply. “I like you too, Wonwoo.”

“I know,” he whispered, leaning his forehead on yours.

And he knew that there was something more to your words. Even if none of you dared to say it yet.

After you both cleaned up, you were lying on your bed, huddled comfortably beneath the bed covers, your head resting on top of his chest and listening to his heartbeat.

Wonwoo was deep in thought, not quite falling asleep yet. And you wondered what was keeping him up, but you suspected that it was the same thing that was keeping you up.  

“When you talk to him,” Wonwoo whispered into the silence. “Whatever your choice is, I want you to know that I’ll respect it.”

You frowned, blinking as understanding dawned on you. “Wonwoo, are you—”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured,” he cut in, still using a gentle tone. “I don’t want you to feel like you owe me something. Just choose according to what you feel is best for you, okay?”

You showed him a pained smile. “You must want something out of this,” you told him.

He shook his head lightly. “Just you,” he mumbled. “But if you choose him, I’ll understand.”

You stared at him, limbs rigid with pain and something more.

Wonwoo pinched your chin softly, like he wanted to give you some comfort, but his next words just did the opposite: “I know you still feel something for him,” he told you, the ghost of a smile stretching his lips, but failing to reach his eyes.

You blinked away briefly, lip trembling as you tried to push the tight feeling in your heart. “That’s true, I do feel something for him still.”

He stilled, his breath stopping for a second. But he remained looking at your face, as though memorizing your features.

“But I also feel something for you,” you whispered, tears brimming and quickly spilling from your eyes. But there it was, the truth. You’d said it, and there was no taking it back now.

It hurt. Knowing that you were between two things that your heart couldn’t pay attention to fully. You wanted Wonwoo. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss Mingyu every day.

But he smiled, a tender look reaching his eyes as he brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers. “I know,” he whispered.

“Then why are you telling me this?” you asked.

He already knew his answer, but there was a slight struggle to get it out. Like he’d been waiting to tell you this, but couldn’t find the moment to do it. “I want you to be happy,” he said, his voice barely a murmur. “You deserve to feel loved. And someone who makes you happy.”

You looked him straight in his eyes. Your heart had paused, but something in you had pushed you to say the next words, “And do you think you could be that person?”

His lips parted briefly, but he nodded, his gaze descending to your lips and then back to your eyes. “I think things are very complicated right now for me to tell you, but if the time comes, I will,” he whispered, pinching your chin one more time.

You pushed yourself to cup his cheek, meeting his lips with your own in a featherlight kiss. Wonwoo gasped softly, but returned the kiss, moving his hand to your cheek too.

A million thoughts reeled in your mind, like comets dancing in the sky, and you failed to catch every single one of them. But you knew one thing—Wonwoo cared about you. He had shown you nothing else but unwavering trust and affection. 

But there was something coiling in your heart, tugging you back. You wanted to meet him where he was—you did. You knew, deep down, that if things were different, you’d be reciprocating his love, loud and honestly.

It was your heart that was still on the way.

“Wonwoo…” you breathed on his lips.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, brushing your hair back with his hand. He let out a soft breath through his nose, touching your forehead with his. “I know, baby.”

He ran a fingertip from your temple to your jawline, looking at your features like it was the last time. There was no need to say it—neither of you had to. The words hung in the air as you and he shared a long look.

Wonwoo smiled, pressing his lips to the tip of your nose. “Are you ready to sleep yet?” he asked.

You shook your head lightly. You were tired, but you needed to stretch this moment while you still could. “I want to stay up just for a little longer,” you said, snuggling closer to him beneath the covers.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Is there anything you want to do?”

You nodded. “Can we make out?” you asked with a shy giggle.

Wonwoo smiled slowly, turning over on the bed so half of his body was now on top of you. He gave you a couple of taunting kisses, pressing his lips slowly on yours, creating wet sounds as he backed up. “You know what will end up happening, right?” He whispered.

You giggled softly. “Uh, no. What will happen?” You asked, playing dumb.

He pressed his lips against yours briefly. “We’ll continue kissing,” he said in between kisses. “And then one of us will want more,” he muttered, then with a smile that you felt on your lips, he added, “and then I’ll end up making love to you.”

“Then shut up and kiss me more,” you muttered with a sweet tone, hands circling his neck, linking your fingers to pull him in.

Wonwoo kissed you again, deeper this time. And just like he said, you both kissed, each kiss making both of you desperate for more. Tangled beneath the bed covers, he climbed on top of you, slotting himself between your thighs. He made love to you, slowly, looking into your eyes when he wasn’t kissing you.

And afterwards, you slept soundly in his arms, wishing for the night to never end.

Wonwoo woke up alone in your bed.

He stretched out his arms before he opened his eyes, finding out that you had left the spot beside him some time ago, since the bed was already cold.

He opened his eyes, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. The room came into clearer view as he sat up, looking for you.

You were sitting on your couch, cuddled up to the corner with your knees pressed to your chest. You were sipping on your coffee cup quietly, but there was something wrong.

“Morning,” Wonwoo said, climbing off your bed and looking for his clothes.

You turned, watching him get dressed. “Good morning,” you replied, giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “There’s coffee in the pot,” you said.

The weakness in your tone made Wonwoo direct his gaze at you. But you were difficult to read from where he stood. So he moved to the kitchen, grabbing the cup of coffee you had left beside the pot, filling it in silence.

As he approached you, he noticed the quiet detachment in your posture. “Something wrong?” he asked.

You shook your head, taking in a deep breath. “Mingyu just texted me.”

“Oh. I see,” he muttered, sitting down on the spot next to you. “What did he say?”

You lifted your head, holding his gaze. “He wants to talk,” you replied.

He noticed the tiredness in your eyes, but there was something else. You were nervous, chewing on your bottom lip, your gaze shifty as you lowered it back to your phone screen.

“Did you reply to him?” he asked, keeping his tone quiet.

You nodded. “We’re meeting tomorrow around noon,” you informed him, locking your phone and tossing it on the coffee table. You hugged yourself again as a form of calming yourself down.

“Are you alright?” he asked, looking at you.

You gave him a non-answer shrug. But then you released a heavy sigh, your shoulders going slack. “I’m nervous,” you admitted.

Wonwoo turned to you, resting his elbow on the headrest of the couch. “That’s normal,” he told you softly. There was a pause, one that both of you used for reflecting. Wonwoo observed your posture, the features of your face.

It was a lot. Seeing him again after almost two months of zero contact.

“This whole thing is a mess,” you said.

“Yeah,” he conceded. “But it’s okay if it is. As long as we keep talking through it.”

You weren’t sure what you were going to do once you saw Mingyu. And heard what he had to say, now that you were aware that he’d wanted to ask you for a second chance.

But you knew one thing—you were afraid of choosing. If the conversation with him came down to that.

The park where you had agreed to meet with Mingyu was down a quiet street, next to an elementary school. 

As you sat down on a bench, you could hear children singing, sometimes laughing, and playing. You hadn’t chosen this location randomly. At this time of the day, the only people you saw were elderly couples or women walking in pairs, sharing stories and laughs. It bustled with activity from people engaging in outdoor exercise, running, and cycling.

It was alive, and you needed to have that as a view right now.

You arrived half an hour early, psyching yourself up to see him again. But as you waited, you started playing in your head every possible scenario of this conversation, each scenario bringing only anguish and a tight feeling deep in your guts.

One thing became clearer to you as you waited in silence.

You still loved Mingyu. That was something you never stopped doing. Maybe you resented him sometimes, but you missed him. You wondered what would’ve happened if he’d never left.

But you were also falling for Wonwoo. He was there to pick up the pieces. He saw you. And you also wondered what things would look like if they had happened differently.

And if you had to choose…

You shook those thoughts away, glancing at the clock displayed on your phone screen. You raised your head, looking around for the nth time. It was this time that you saw him.

The first thing you noticed was that his beautiful long hair was cut short now, giving him a younger look. But the man you loved was still in the way the sun caught his beautiful skin, in his puppy eyes when he found you. He blinked, the soft features of his face shifting slightly, appearing like he could breathe easily when he saw you were there.

Every cell in your body screamed at you to run and hug him tightly. You burned with every single day that you missed him.

You didn’t know how to act. While you were happy to see him, you were still guarded. But you decided to smile at him, even if your face felt tight with anxiety.

“Hi there,” Mingyu said as he stood before you, his velvety voice soft and reminding you of the way he would call you baby.

You blinked, feeling a familiar nostalgic ache seep beneath your skin. “Hi there,” you said, scooting an inch on the bench for him.

He understood, sitting down next to you with an eager look in his eyes.

You wanted to know what he was thinking. You wanted to know if he would bring up the fact that he’d seen you with Wonwoo.

But in reality, Mingyu had chosen not to say that to you. He felt like he had no right to ask you if you were dating someone else. He just needed to tell you how he felt.

And the moment he laid eyes on you, he solidified that choice. He loved you, and he felt so dumb for realizing that so late. And if you had moved on to someone new, he would have to accept it. Because he let you go.

You folded your hands on your lap. “You wanted to talk?” You asked with a slightly strangled tone.

Mingyu didn’t hesitate, nodding as he looked at the features of your face. He absorbed every detail, from the way you looked at him to the way you looked as you talked. God, if he could hold you again.

He wanted to tell you he’d been staring at your photo, sick with nostalgia to hear your voice. He wanted to tell you that he regretted his choice the very moment he walked away from the basketball court.

But finally, he said, “I’ve been thinking about everything. About us.”

You stayed quiet, holding your breath.

He kept going, his words slow and full of caution. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I could let you go. But I’ve been lying to myself about that.”

His voice cracked mid-sentence, and you noticed the slight quiver in his tone. But he didn’t break eye contact, he kept his gaze on you.

You listened, a part of your heart swelling with so much relief to hear him say those words—the words you needed to hear him say months ago. But the other part of your heart knew that it was too late to do anything about it now.

Things have changed.

And Mingyu knew it too.

He lowered his gaze briefly, drawing in a breath as though filling himself with courage to take the biggest step he’d done in a while. He didn’t know how you’d take it, but he needed to do it, for the sake of his aching heart.

“Nothing has changed. I still think about you all the time,” he said, enunciating each word with a bitterness that had built up over the past couple of months.

You exhaled, the stinging in your eyes making you blink.

“I love you,” he whispered, but there was a sad note in his tone as the words landed too quietly.

He knew this was a game lost. He was too late.

But your gaze lifted, sad disbelief brimming in your eyes. “You do?” You whispered. Part of you always knew that he was falling at the same time you were for him. But then he walked away, and those dreams went with him.

“I thought I was protecting you from myself when I walked away.” He said, his voice breaking as he said the next words, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

You wondered what the correct choice in this situation would be. But you waited, seeing in his face that he still needed to say more.

“I’m not saying this because I expect anything,” he continued. “I’m not asking for a second chance. Not like this. I just needed to tell you.”

You gaped, unable to do anything else as tears rolled down your face. “Mingyu…” You paused for air, even though you had only uttered his name. It was getting hard to breathe properly, but you had to push yourself to do it.

“I love you too,” you said with an air of resignation. “But that doesn’t mean we’re okay.”

He nodded, his eyes lingering on yours. “I know,” he replied gently.

You blinked away from his face, catching the sunlight that filtered through the trees. “I think you were being honest when you broke things up,” you said, your tone thickening. “You were right, we weren’t ready.”

Mingyu tilted his head to one side, his gaze falling from your face briefly. “Do you think we’ll ever be?”

You swallowed back your tears. “I think we both need to heal,” you said. “I need to heal. You did the right thing for yourself when you walked away, but I… I changed, Mingyu.”

His eyes sparked with understanding. “Yeah,” he whispered, lowering his face. “I get that.”

You gave him a tired smile. “I’m sorry,” you said as guilt and remorse washed over you.

“Me too,” he said.

An air of finality hung between you. Your gaze lingered on him for a moment, and your heart squeezed when you thought of telling him that you’ve done something terribly wrong. Something that he probably won’t be able to forgive you for.

But you were a coward.

You rose from the bench, limbs trembling with the heavy weight of the things you were leaving unsaid.

Mingyu followed you, getting up with hesitation. “Can I ask you one thing?” he said.

You paused, your features shifting with fear and worry. But you nodded, deciding that if he asked about you and Wonwoo, you would admit to everything. You balled your hands into fists.

But he asked, “Can I hug you?”

Your heart shuddered with an unbearable pain, shaking you to your core. “Of course,” you said before you could think it over.

Mingyu wrapped you in a bear hug, bringing you close to his chest like he didn’t want to let you go. You sobbed the moment you picked up the smell of his clothes, his skin. That sweet smell of citrus mixed with coconut. You allowed yourself to snuggle your face onto his chest, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

He rested his cheek on your head, rocking your body every so slightly in his arms. He heard your quiet sobs, felt them in his chest as you clung onto him like he was your lifeline. Because he was—for a moment in your life, he was your sun, he was the warmth during the night. And you… Well, you had changed Mingyu’s life, in a way. You were the first person he loved after getting his heart broken.

After some minutes of just holding each other, you both stepped away. You brushed your tears away with your hand, catching your breath slowly.

“See you around, shorty?” Mingyu whispered with an air of hope.

Your heart froze. But you nodded at him. “See you around, Mingyu.”

Mingyu watched as you turned around and walked away.

You walked out of the park in the direction of your apartment.

The thought you had been trying to keep at bay returned, now stronger after seeing Mingyu.

Maybe you didn’t have to choose one or the other.

Maybe this was the lesson you hadn’t learned. And it was now torturing you to the point that it left you with no choice.

Maybe what you needed was to choose yourself.

The wind brushed against your cheeks, drying your tears. You felt unbelievably tired and ached to get home. You pull out your phone, thumb pressing on the first contact in the recent calls list, and bringing the phone to your ear.

Wonwoo’s phone rang only once.

“Hello?” he responded.

“Hi,” you sighed heavily, but it didn’t soothe the pressure in your chest.

“How are you?” he asked, his tone soft but weary.

“Not great,” you admitted with a bitter laugh.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked slowly. “I could head to yours after work.”

There was a hint of acknowledgement in his tone. As though he knew what you were planning to do already.

“Yeah, I want to talk.”

“I’ll be there.”

Mingyu felt like a different person.

The following morning, he woke up feeling heavy. It wasn’t the kind of heaviness he’d get from working out or from his shift at the bar. No, he felt guilty. With a big sigh, he forced himself to remember the painful conversation he had with you.

You were right. He needed to heal. He had to put the pieces of his heart back together if he wanted to come back for you in the future. When the time came, he would give you the love you deserved. The kind of love he knew he could give you.

But he’d had some closure. At least for now.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet for Mingyu’s liking. He got up from his bed, tossing the covers. He opened the blinds, letting the sunlight pour into his room to start his day.

It was Mingyu’s turn to get the groceries. So it didn’t make a lot of sense for Wonwoo to be out this early in the morning. Mingyu clicked his tongue as he went to the living room and the kitchen, finding every corner empty.

“Wonwooya,” he called softly, the sound of his voice bouncing on the walls.

Maybe Wonwoo was in his room with his headphones on. Which was plausible, but Mingyu quickly ruled that option out as he approached the door to Wonwoo’s room. It was slightly parted, a sign that he had left the room.

Had he slept out again?

Mingyu sighed, deciding to go on about his regular house chores. He gathered his dirty clothes, starting with the whites. He bundled up the bunch of clothes in his arms and loaded the washing machine. Then, something told him that Wonwoo would probably thank him if he also washed his white tees.

So he opened the door to Wonwoo’s room again, picking up the white t-shirts that were in the hamper and returned the washing machine, loading it and pressing the button on.

He remembered seeing a dirty mug on Wonwoo’s desk, the black coffee had started to leave a yellow stain around the inside of the mug. “Gross,” Mingyu whispered as he lifted the mug. But as he did this, his hand bumped against the mouse next to it.

The monitor flashed awake, the fans of his computer whirring back to life. Mingyu froze, mug in hand, unsure of what to do.

The screen showed Wonwoo’s desktop, and right in the corner closest to Mingyu’s line of sight, there was a photo viewing window. As though Wonwoo had hovered the mouse on top of it right before leaving the computer asleep. A row of different thumbnails sat along the bottom, but the image on display made Mingyu’s heart drop.

It was a photo of you.

Mingyu set the mug back where he’d found it, grabbing the mouse to press the left click. The window expanded, showing the photo Wonwoo was looking at before leaving.

You were framed in a pale autumn light, standing by the river. A smile painted the soft features of your face, although it looked like it was caught mid-breath. Mingyu could almost picture you, speaking with a soft smile on your face, the moment the photo was snapped.

It was a beautiful photo. You were beautiful.

But it wasn’t just one photo either, as Mingyu would come to find out. There were more, stacked in one folder that had a very cryptic name on it. Rainy day. His eyes scanned over the images. There were dozens of photos. Different places and days.

You walking beside the river, a bag full of books hanging on your shoulder. A series of photos snapped mid-motion in quick succession as you approached the lens, handing the bag to the person holding the camera.

You in a museum, standing beneath a skylight, light pouring down your face like some kind of vision. You looked near-angelical.  

And Mingyu just stared.

It was you, through Wonwoo’s lens. You through his eyes.

This wasn’t just admiration. This wasn’t just some modelling you were doing for Wonwoo’s photography course. This was Wonwoo seeing you. Capturing you with an intention that Mingyu was too familiar with.

Understanding dawned on Mingyu. Wonwoo had taken the photo that you were now displaying on your profile. The photo Mingyu had been looking at for days.

You’d been with Wonwoo that day when Mingyu saw you with another guy.

And Wonwoo hadn’t come home that night.

Mingyu’s heart sank to his stomach, backing away from the desk like it had suddenly burned him. His heart pounded as the truth came together like a puzzle, each piece hurting more and more. He turned, walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

And then something inside him snapped.

He’d been blaming himself for losing you. He’d accepted the idea that you’d moved on. But not with Wonwoo.

And finally, finally, Mingyu got angry. 

☾ author's note: helloooooo

i... i guess i am hitting a burn out. i have been posting back to back for weeks straight. and part of it is because i hyper fixated on this fic a lot. i really love writing it, i really do. and i'm really excited that a lot of you enjoy reading it!! your comments and asks truly keep me going 🥹

i started a patreon very recently! this is meant for my exclusive series the sundering. it would mean the world to me if you guys check my patreon page out 🥺 i appreciate your support anyway, as always!! 🩵

okay, that's it from me for now. i'm gonna go play the witcher trilogy now, byeeeeee

i love you all!!

toodles!

☆ READ PART VIII! ☆ | PREVIOUS CHAPTERS | SUPPORT ME ♡

© TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[starvulture]

anyway, since im in financial aid hell with my school rn....

simon riley who really is only an acquaintance to you, some guy you're friendly with because you seem to have a similar routine when it comes to the cafe two blocks from your house and the physical therapist office you both attend.

simon, who's on extended medical leave from a torn rotator cuff surgery and six weeks into twelve of his own physical therapy treatment.

simon who overhears you with a friend in the cafe one morning venting your frustrations with the cost of school and the limits of your own finances. who doesn't mention it until you're both in the waiting room, sitting with one chair between you as usual (he's a big guy, he likes the space to spread his legs. he pretends he hasn't seen your glances).

"going back to school, then?" he asks, quiet and gruff as always.

you wrinkle your nose at the reminder of your current stresses. "yeah," you say, staring down at the carpet. "dunno if i can afford it, though. rent's already so high, and groceries, and then this..." you gesture vaguely, but he knows you mean whatever condition it is you're here for is bleeding you dry.

"shame," he says, and leaves it at that.

"what do you do?" you ask after a long moment of silence. a muscle in his thigh twitches.

"military," he says, meeting your eye when you finally look at him.

you nod, a puzzle piece sliding into place about why he must be here in this office with you. "ah."

"benefits aren't bad," he says, quietly. "medical's paying for all o' this." he nods around the room, a much more leisurely mirror of your earlier hand gesture.

"i should hope so, considering they probably put you where you got whatever it is you're here for." the corner of your mouth lifts in a wry smile.

the conversation stops there when one of you is called in to your appointment. simon doesn't bring it up again, not until something changes.

you run into each other at a bar.

simon's got a beer in hand, something cold and refreshing while he catches up with soap and gaz in the corner. they're on a brief leave and stopped by to visit for an evening before fucking off for a week to wherever it is they have plans to be. simon won't ever say it in as many words, not right now, but he's glad to see them, happy to listen to whatever story they're telling him, until he sees you.

he downs the beer for an excuse to go get another, waving off the two men who offer to go get it when he says "need to stretch my legs," eyes fixed on you the whole time.

"celebratin'?" he asks when he slides into an empty space beside you at the counter, catching the bartender's attention for a refill with a lazy raise of his empty bottle.

"simon," you greet in surprise. he nods at your drink and your slight smile slides away. "not really," you reply to his question. "more like drowning my sorrows. i don't think school's gonna happen this time."

simon frowns, eyes scanning you up and down. your drooped, sad shoulders, the sad, slightly bitter smile that doesn't reach your eyes.

"you know," he says, slowly, as if hesitant. normally wouldn't even dare to think it if he hadn't had just enough to drink. "there's plenty scholarships for military spouses."

it's a wonder he can keep a straight face at the shocked raise of your eyebrows.

[the-shedevil-writes]

Cowboy Casanova (Tyler Owens x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: You grew up in the same town as Tyler Owens, so you heard the stories — the heartbreaks, the ghosting, the breakups. Back then, he tore through girls like a storm. Now, eight years after graduation, you’re a rising country music star, and he’s out chasing real tornadoes. He might be older, hotter, and more charming than ever, but there’s no way you’re falling for any of that. WORD COUNT: 4.4k WARNINGS: Cussing, Miscommunication, Suggestive content and making out but no smut. NOTES: Uh- I'm scared to write smut, but I'm tempted to make a part 2 of this as a first attempt. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

She had been told her whole life that Tyler Owens was a trap. Men who know they’re good-looking are nothing but trouble. And that was a very apt description of Tyler Owens. He wasn’t only famous for his livestreams ‘tornado wrangling’, but for all the women across America swooning over him on their screens. Frankly, she found it cringeworthy. It was an ick. 

But he was the local celebrity in their small Oklahoma town. She was in second place as a famous local singer, but she only took second because all the girls in town were still drawn to him like flies to honey. Even though every girl and their mama have heard the stories and rumors about him. ESPECIALLY in high school. Tyler Owens was the dream bull rider that every girl fawned over. 

Not her. Yeah, she’d always admit that he was objectively attractive, and only got better with age. But she saw the tears of poor Becky Mitchell at her locker in high school. She heard about the phone-call breakups and the dates he stood up. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that she’d be different. She didn’t care to fix or tame him.

So when he and his film crew came in during one of her sets at the local country bar, Miller’s Place, she just looked passed him unfazed. She was sat on a stool, just her and her guitar, when Tyler stopped halfway through the bar to turn and listen to her. The rest of his crew walked to the pool table and looked back at him, confused.

She pretended not to notice him and continued singing. It was a simple cover of Landslide by Fleetwood Mac. Every girl who’s picked up a guitar has sung this song. She felt that she was nothing special, but her voice rang out beautifully. The wood of the bar created great acoustics for her voice. Many had told her that she sounded similar to Natalie Maines, the lead singer of The Chicks, and that’s somewhat how she got her start. But she now hated that people saw her as a copy or an impressionist. That’s why she went from softer pop to harder country rock. At least, that’s what her label wanted her to release. 

But when she was here? Doing a set at Miller’s? She could sing anything she damn well pleased.

As she finished, she leaned into the mic. “Thank you, I’m gone for the night, but you guys will be further entertained by the lovely Joe Scheel. Thank you so much.” She announced into the microphone before getting up. A few groans and sad boo’s came out from the audience. The timid guitarist coming up behind her gulped nervously. How was he supposed to compete with her?

She hopped down and walked over to the bar, leaning against the countertop. 

“Usual?” Nate Miller, the owner and beloved bartender of the place, asked her. 

She nodded. “Yes, please. Long day.” She grumbled.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a tall Tyler Owens-shaped figure coming up to her, “And I think it’s about to get longer.”

Tyler came up to the bar and leaned his elbow onto it, looking at her. She pretended not to notice him. Simply humming along to the Johnny Cash song that the new musician was playing. He chuckled. 

“Hey, doll, remember me?” His voice was low with that twang of the accent they shared. She remembered it all too well. 

She looked over, and gave him a scathing up and down. A skeptical brow raised on her.

“I wish I didn’t.” She finally said as Nate passed her her favorite beer.

Tyler looked over at him. “Put it on my tab. It’s a high school reunion.” 

Nate went to slide the receipt tray to him, but she quickly caught it. “I don’t need your help.” She said bluntly.

Tyler smirked, and his eyebrows raised. He liked this. He was liking this too much. He tried to grab it again, but she had already slammed her card down and signed the receipt. 

“I don’t need to owe you anything, Owens.” She said 

“You know, I don’t remember you being this standoffish in school.” He said, pulling out the barstool and sitting down. 

“I remember you being this annoying.” 

He chuckled. “Honestly. That’s fair.” He said that, and that slightly surprised her. But she just stared ahead as she took a sip of her beer. She treated him like a toxic hazard. If she spent too long looking at him, maybe whatever mania these girls experienced would seep into her brain. It wasn’t worth the risk.

He looked at her for a slight second more, then ordered himself a beer. He looked forward at the wall just like her, not wanting to stare holes into her like a creep. “You gonna stand and drink, or are you gonna sit down like a normal person?” 

She shook her head. “I’m fine standing.” 

He shrugged, “Just trying to make friends.” As if it were her fault… He took a sip. 

That made her look over. For some reason, that line made her angry. Tyler Owens didn’t make friends. He made women he kicked out in the morning. He made names in a little black book. 

She huffed, downed her beer, and grabbed her guitar case. She stormed out. Oh, she was one hell of a tornado that was not going to be reined in by Tyler Owens. 

A few seconds after her gravelly footsteps faded away, Tyler looked up at the bartender. 

“Is she always like that nowadays?” He asked

Nate shrugged. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, buddy. She doesn’t date.”

“God…” Tyler started with a small nostalgic smile forming on his face, “You know, I had a big ol’ crush on her when we were in high school. Always got me nervous cause she was on the science team.” He confided.

The bartender huffed a laugh. “Missed your chance.” 

“Yeah. Guess I did.” Tyler said.

The second time she saw him was at the community picnic. She was in much more formal clothes than she was at Miller’s Place the week before. Her mother insisted that she come, help set up, perform a few songs, and make the rounds. So, as she put down the heavy crockpot on the long buffet table, her neck snapped when she heard her mama go:

“Oh, there’s that Owens boy. The storm chaser.”

“What?” She asked, turning to see Tyler walking towards their area of the park. A bunch of the kids ran up to him excitedly. No doubt they had all seen his YouTube videos. She rolled her eyes.

“Jesus, he got real big. He’s built like a brick shithouse.” Her mama said

“EW! Mama, stop. You already know he’s bad news.” She said, but she knew she was right. That night at Miller’s had her realizing just how built he was compared to high school. And back then, he already had an athletic body from the rodeo riding. This was another level, as his grey Henley stuck to his skin like wax paper. 

Her mama smirked and raised her hands in innocence. She fixed the tablecloth, then looked back at the whole table. It looked perfect. Everything was set up. She made a mental checklist- cutlery, plates, the ribs, the corn, the brisket. Checking up and down that everybody’s potluck items made it onto the table. 

She turned and looked at everybody. “Alrighty! Come eat, everybody!” She announced with a smile. 

Tyler turned around at that sweet voice and noticed her. He didn’t know she was coming, granted, he didn’t know he was either. He was supposed to be doing a livestream, heading west towards the plains. But Boone and Lily had gotten a bad case of the stomach flu, so he was stranded back in his hometown with nothing to do. Until his doting aunt suggested he come check out the community picnic going on. 

She looked gorgeous. Even more so now in the daylight than when she was shrouded in the darkness of Miller’s. In a brown halter sundress with white polka dots, she was decked out in gold jewelry. Undoubtedly, it had to be real considering she was a full-time country singer. Her hair was up in a messy little up-do with little strands out that blew in the breeze.

Tyler couldn’t help the fact that the corners of his lips upturned into a smile when he saw her. Even though she had left in a confusing firestorm of rudeness, he still saw the talented, smart girl he liked way back when. 

“That’s Ms. Y/n.” One of the little boys who had been excitedly talking his ear off about tornadoes said, noticing where his gaze was. The kid couldn’t be much older than six. “She-she sings for us sometimes. She’s real pretty.” He said, kicking his feet in the dirt.

Tyler looked down at the kid, “That she is.” He nodded, and when he looked back up, he noticed her staring. He tipped his hat at her, and she rolled her eyes before quickly looking away. He smirked and started heading in line for food. 

She was waiting, letting everybody else get their plate ready. She helped hand out plates to the little ones, and if they couldn’t reach something, she’d walk over and help them. But at the moment, she was just waiting, watching the line go. When, inevitably, Tyler reached her, she looked away into the distance with a pout on her lips.

“Well, you look awful pretty today, Y/n.” He said. And when she didn’t answer him, he raised his brows. A scoff escaped him as he shook his head with a confident smile. “I don’t get what I’ve done to piss you off so damn bad.”

She finally looked at him after that and tilted her head. “I’ve heard so much about you that you’ve got a list.” 

He shook his head, blinking in surprise. Several things? What on Earth? He could barely get the balls to talk to her growing up, never mind disrespect her. But if these were things she heard about him… he couldn’t do much to disagree. 

“Well, if you got to know me, you might discover that you actually like my company. You never know.” He swiftly recovered.

“God knows. Warned us to stray away from temptation.” 

“So you’re saying I’m tempting?” He caught her with a smirk. 

Her eyes widened, and she tried to say something, but the words got caught in her throat. A flustered blush bloomed on her face as she looked up at him and his stupid green eyes. They practically glistened in the sunlight. She understood why girls could like this. He was witty, on top of his looks. But she also felt embarrassed at her own blunder.

He tilted his head toward her, “And don’t give me that. You are the furthest thing from a religious woman.” 

Oh.

She shook her head and looked away. 

He smiled, sensing he was getting to her now. “I remember you falling asleep in Sunday Mass so much that your mama started letting you stay home.” He said, recalling.

It was true. How’d he remember such an insignificant detail of her life? And more importantly, why? She was curious now. There was a deeper part of Tyler Owens she was discovering, but that scared her. This must be where the girls got trapped, when he’d remember little details about them and look at them with that deconstructing gaze. He must do this to all the girls.

“Go get your brisket, Owens.” She said before walking off with her arms crossed. 

The third time they saw each other was two weeks later. Tyler’s team had wanted to go back to Miller’s Place, having liked the atmosphere and live music. But as he pulled up in the truck, he saw a frustrated Y/n with her face in her hands, looking down at the open hood of her car. The porch lights of the bar illuminated the steam hissing out the front. Her flannel was wrapped around her waist as she kicked the front tire. 

“Stupid fuckin-” She whined.

Tyler parked immediately and stepped out. “Need any help?” 

Great. Just who she wanted to see. She was between a rock and a hard place. She felt morally obligated to ignore this man. But she was also stranded at the bar in the middle of the night, not wanting to stay much longer. She had her fair share of creeps and superfans who would be eager to see her this late and alone.

“Just a damaged hose causing a coolant leak. But it happened at the worst time ever.” She explained, crossing her arms, backing away from the car. “I made it just down the road before it started steaming, and drove it right back. None of the auto shops are gonna be open. So-“ she smacked her hips exasperated “I’m stuck.”

Tyler walked over slowly, assessing the damage. She was completely right, and though he didn’t doubt her for a second, it was nice to know it was just the hose and not the engine overheating.  “I could take you home. Drive you here in the morning.” He offered.

“And I don’t suppose you think you’re staying over?” She said, suspect.

“I don’t.” 

She was silent. She looked down at her boots and tapped her foot. Her guitar case rested on the pavement behind her. As much as she felt bad about making the assumption, how could she not? She would’ve with any other man- that wasn’t just a Tyler thing.

How pathetic was this? Needing to rely on Tyler Owens for help after she had been so stubborn. The crickets of the night chirped like the ticks of a timer as she thought about it. 

“Come on.” He groaned, “Stop being so stiff-necked and just accept the help.”

She looked at him. Then looked back at her car as the steam died down, but there was no way she’d be able to drive it back. 

“Fine.” She huffed, closing the hood, grabbing her guitar, and walking past him towards his own truck. She held herself as if she owned the place. Tyler watched her with a little smile as she stopped at the passenger side door. There was a moment of silence before she said, “Thank you.”

He ambled up to her with a smug look on his face. Before she got the chance to get in, his hand landed on the roof of the truck, preventing her from opening the door.  Wow, he was tall. Had he always been this tall? 

“You’re welcome.” He said before opening the door for her. 

She sighed, tired as she climbed in. 

When he closed the door, she looked around the truck, and it was strange. She had seen the clips of it online, but it felt surreal to be actually in it. There were all the switches and buttons that she’d rather not press, unknowing of what any of them did. 

He climbed into the driver's seat and started the truck. She pulled down the overhead mirror to check how frazzled her appearance must be, and was suddenly showered in a stack of glossy papers that fell out. 

“Wait-” He said, an embarrassed flush came over his face.

She picked up one of the papers and turned it around to find that it was a picture of Tyler with his autograph. A giggle made its way up, and it eventually turned into a full sent laugh. Sure, she had to give out autographs, too, but she didn’t have them all in her car like this. He put his thumb and index finger to his eyes and rubbed them, embarrassed. 

“Always at the ready, huh?” She said, her voice sweeter.

Huh. Was that? A joke? A real joke that wasn’t a direct insult? Sure, it was a tease, but it was lighthearted for once.

He gave her a small, embarrassed smile and took the photo from her fingers. “Look, they sell stupidly well. I look like an asshat, but if it makes enough for my team and relief aid that’s all I care about.”

“Relief aid?”

“We travel around the area. If a town’s been hit, we give out food and merch to wear.” He explained, and there was a sick feeling in her gut. Maybe… just maybe… he wasn’t a bad guy. Because that was just about the most decent thing she had heard from someone in a long time. 

She was quiet, stewing in her regret before saying, “Oh… Well, that’s great.” 

“Yeah.” He replied softly, putting the pictures back in the mirror and closing the flap, “You don’t need the mirror. You look nice as always.”

She swallowed, and he started driving. 

“You still live with your parents? Near the school?” He asked

She nodded, “Yeah. On the corner.”

“Now, what’s a big country music star doing still living with her parents?” He asked curiously.

“Really taking advantage of our first proper conversation, huh?” She chuckled, looking out the window. She watched as they drove down the familiar streets. The baseball field. The small plaza of shops where she got her prom dress, and eventually some of the sundresses she wore on her first tour. The gas station where she and her friends would get slushies after school. “I don’t like living alone. Went to Cali for almost a year to record, and felt sick every day. It only got better when I came back home.”

He nodded, “You know, it’s supposed to be the opposite. Most people spend their whole lives vying to get out of here.”

She shrugged, “They don’t have my mama’s cooking out in L.A.” She put it simply.

There was a silence. It seemed like both of them were trying to come up with something to say because the silence felt… tense. Whether it was because she was thinking about all the stories, feeling a little bad about how she talked to him, or something else entirely different was unclear. 

“I need some music.” She said, reaching over to press the play button on his car stereo.

“Wait- wait- wait- don’t-” He said, but both of his hands were on the wheel, and he wasn’t about to just slap her hand away.

She pressed play and was surprised to hear her own voice echoing back through the speakers. God, she hadn’t heard this in ages. It was her very first album before she signed with the label. It was one of the many CDs that she and her mom spent hours burning the recordings onto, and slipping the handwritten sleeves into the cases. She’d sell them at the country fair after her sets, hoping that somebody… anybody would buy them. She couldn’t remember Tyler buying one, but it had been so many years that she couldn’t say for sure.

“You listen to me?” Her voice was soft and full of surprise. She looked up at him.

Tyler took in a deep breath, and he just stared dead ahead at the road, scared to look at her. It felt like he was in high school again, and his schoolboy crush had just been revealed. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He finally admitted, “I like this one. I don’t like the country rock you’re doing right now.” 

They listened to the song for a second. Her voice sounded so young and airy. Especially paired with her teenage songwriting. She chuckled, “Everyone said I sounded too much like The Chicks.” 

“You don’t. You sound like you.” He insisted. “And I like you-” 

He didn’t even realize what he just said at first. He was trying to say that he liked her voice, but ended up confessing a completely unrelated layer by accident. His eyes blinked rapidly. Jesus Christ, Owens, what are you doing?

There was a small silence. 

“And how many girls have you said that to?” She asked, not sounding like a know-it-all, but with a genuine concern for her behalf. 

Suddenly, the truck screeched as he pulled over to the dirt side of the road and parked so fast it could give her whiplash. “JESUS TYLER-” She screamed. He parked, and the music cut out.

“Why do you hate me? Huh? Who talked to you?” He asked, frustrated.

She looked at him with frantic eyes, “I-I don’t know! Everyone! Becky Mitchell, who you dumped over the phone. Jessie Roberts, who you stood up. Meghan Brinkley, who got ghosted-” 

He put his forehead to the steering wheel and let out a humongous sigh. After a moment, he sat back up. “Look, I’m not saying I didn’t do any of that… But has it occurred to you that high school was nearly eight years ago? And that I was completely fucking stupid and didn’t know what I was doing?”

She sat in silence. He was right. It was so long ago. Yet the stories had stuck so deep within her. The truck was too quiet except for the muffled cicadas outside the windows. As he talked, he made direct eye contact with her, and it made her chest tight.

“I’ve been in two actual relationships since. Not those baby play dates we all used to do.” He said, “And I regret… a lot. I know I hurt a lot of people… Except for Meghan Brinkley, she actually cheated on me.”

Yeah. Made sense for Meghan Brinkley. 

“I’m not some stupid kid anymore. And I’d just like it if you didn’t act like I was the devil incarnate because of some stupid gossip.” 

She watched him for a moment, unsure if he was going to say more. Until she swallowed and spoke, “I’m so sorry.” She finally said, “I-I was completely and utterly awful to you based on these stories and rumors that I had heard… That wasn’t fair to you.” Her hands were shaking slightly. The guilt ate at her. She wasn’t normally like this. “Would you like me… to say potentially why?”

He looked at her now with a sense of curiosity. His breathing was still a little hard, but he was calming down. It’s not like he was angry at her. He was more angry at himself that he was ever so reckless in the first place. 

“Every relationship that I’ve ever been in has been a bust. I keep trying to believe in these guys when they say they want something serious with me, but then they never do. Either I’m led along, or I’m cheated on, or I’m just completely ghosted.” She explained, then put her face in her hands, “God, this sounds so pathetic.”

Tyler shook his head. “No. No, I believe you. I am quite literally a first hand account of how shitty guys can be.” That made her chuckle, and he was glad to ease some of her tension. 

“After my boyfriend from a few years ago cheated on me with my best friend and they immediately got engaged after, I swore off men. I would never let a man make me cry that hard ever again. It wasn’t worth it.” She said, crossing her arms, nervous to be so vulnerable, “It’s not… It’s not an excuse. I still shouldn’t have been so rude. But it’s a reason why when I hear of a man who did that sort of thing, I get so mad.”

There was another bout of uncomfortable silence. 

Until Tyler looked deep into her eyes. “He’s a complete fucking idiot.”

“What?” She asked, a little surprised by his reaction.

“If you guys were thirteen years old, it’d be one thing. But for godssakes, we’re adults now! That’s a grown ass man! Playing games and hurting people.” He said, surprisingly angry. 

“It’s… fine.” 

“No, it’s not. Y/n, I was practically in love with you in high school! Some of those girls I blew off or rejected? I did it because I was too busy watching you sing in choir class, and was too scared to actually talk to you.” He explained, making her sit up, absolutely shocked. “And I know we’ve changed a lot since then, but I know deep down in my gut that any man who doesn’t realize that he has perfection with you is a goddamn fool!” 

He was practically simmering. What the hell did he just say? She sat completely up now, and they stared at each other, both in disbelief.

It’s unclear who dived in first, but their lips smashed against each other in a fury. They grabbed onto each other wherever they could with the awkward console in the middle. Face. Shoulders. Hair. It was all a mess of desperate and tangled limbs. God, she tasted like beer, and he tasted like lime. The perfect combination.

She pulled away slightly, “Can I?” She asked breathlessly, reaching over to gesture to his lap.

“Dear god, yes.”

Next thing she knew, she was climbing over the console and straddling his lap, lips barely leaving his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his messy blonde hair. She felt his hands explore her back under her tank top. His calloused hands were so warm against her skin. He held her against him like he was scared she was gonna disappear any second. This was practically his dream come true. 

He moved down and started kissing her neck. A strangled noise escaped her that only made him smirk against her skin. He kissed back up her neck and returned to her lips a little more softly. After a series of much more gentler kisses, he pulled back.

“Here’s my plan.” He said, resting his hands on her hips, his thumb brushing circles, “I’m gonna take you home, I’ll pick you up in the morning to go get a new hose from the shop. Then we’re going out for breakfast.” GOD, why was that making her want to just drag him into her bedroom more? But she knew why. She couldn’t just jump into something like this after what she’s been through. And he had a point to make. 

She nodded slowly, “I’m sorry again. For everything.” 

“It’s okay.” He said, looking up at her. He put his hand on her cheek and shifted her face to look down at him. “You’re like an EF5. Headstrong and stubborn. Winding yourself up like this. That’s what I like about you.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed him back against the seat, leaning in close to his face. “God, I swore I’d never be wrangled by you.” 

“It’s quite the opposite. I think you wrangled me.” 

[theonlyonesora]

The Third Rule

Lily x Oscar Piastri x You (Reader)

Chapter 2 – And Then There Were Moans

If there was a soundtrack to that night, it would’ve started with something obnoxiously upbeat—probably Doja Cat—because we were already half dancing in the Uber before we even made it to the first bar.

“Everyone post your ‘before’ pic now,” Jessy said, phone in hand, duck face locked and loaded.

Lily leaned into me as we posed against the cab window, our faces squished together, her highlighter catching the streetlights just right while my eyeliner decided to flirt with disaster (but in a cute way).

📸 @(Y/N).m first round hasn’t even hit and i already know we’re getting banned somewhere tonight 🍸✨ Tagged: @lily.eng, @jessywithay, @meg.in.crisis Location: Regret Loading...

We hit Bar One—the rooftop one with overpriced cocktails and bartenders who looked like they modeled for Calvin Klein during daylight hours. Meg ordered a round of espresso martinis “for the plot,” and Lily gave me the you better sip this slowly look. I, naturally, ignored it.

“Why is everyone hot tonight?” I whispered to Lily, scanning the room.

“Because you’re drunk and your standards are at sea level.”

Fair.

“Let’s make a deal,” Jessy said, after a sip. “Everyone has to post one cringe Instagram Story by midnight.”

“Define cringe,” Meg asked, already filming us.

“Like, either singing badly, flirting embarrassingly, or oversharing in a bathroom selfie.”

Challenge accepted.

By Bar Two, we were all feeling it. The lights were dimmer, the music louder, and our group chat was blowing up with blurry selfies and chaotic boomerangs.

📸 @lily.eng (Story) protecting this menace from tequila and bad decisions as usual 📸: a video of me doing a dramatic body roll while Lily holds a lime in front of my mouth like I’m some sort of unruly parrot

📸 @meg.in.crisis captioned a boomerang of our clinking glasses with: cheers to women, wine, and mild emotional damage

And then there was Bar Three. The danger zone. The bar with neon signs and sticky floors and a playlist that hadn't updated since 2017—and we loved it.

I ended up on the tiny dance floor with Jessy, our arms flailing, hair stuck to our foreheads, and Meg screaming lyrics beside us like her life depended on it. I looked over and saw Lily at the bar, sipping something pink, her eyes scanning the crowd—then landing on me.

We smiled at each other. The kind of smile that says, this is one of those nights we’ll talk about for years.

📸 @(Y/N).m (Story) a photo of our heels on the grimy dance floor with the caption: if these shoes could talk, they’d scream

📸 @jessywithay (Story) video of me and Lily dancing to “Super Bass” while Meg pretends to be a backup dancer

We stumbled into the apartment like a slow-motion car crash in heels—shoes flung, jackets dropped, keys barely making it into the bowl by the door. Lily called dibs on the bathroom first, Jessy raided the fridge for leftover pasta, and Meg was already halfway through an unsolicited playlist of songs that “deserved more respect.”

Me ? I brought a boy home.

He was cute. One of those quietly confident types with messy curls and sleepy eyes. We’d met at the third bar—he complimented my laugh, which is basically emotional undressing. And okay, maybe I was three drinks past reasonable decision-making, but his hand on my lower back and the way he listened like I was the only girl in the bar? Yeah, he earned the Uber ride.

We made it to my room, which at the time felt like the right thing to do. Except… someone (Lily) had accidentally locked my bedroom door in a flurry of post-party chaos and lost the key.

“You can sleep in mine,” she offered with a sleepy smile, mascara slightly smudged.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll crash with the girls. It’s a full-on slumber party in there anyway.”

So there we were.

Me, this guy—Caleb or Callum or something with a C—and Lily’s room. A room that smelled like vanilla, lavender spray, and whatever perfume she always stole from my side of the bathroom.

“You okay?” he asked, hand resting on my hip as I stood in the middle of her room, hesitant for all of one dramatic second.

I turned, smiled, and pulled him in by the collar.

Meanwhile, in the next room…

“Is she seriously—” Jessy hissed from her place on the floor.

“She is,” Meg whispered, wide-eyed. “She’s totally doing it in Lily’s bed.”

Lily buried her face in a pillow, mortified and stifling laughter. “I told her to use the guest blanket! That one’s from Zara Home, it was expensive!”

The first moan hit like a light slap.

“Oh my God,” Meg squeaked, already holding in a laugh.

Another. Then a thud. A giggle. A very audible “right there.”

Jessy gasped like it was the royal wedding. “She’s narrating!”

“She’s a performer,” Lily muttered into the pillow.

By the fourth moan, it was over. Not the act—oh no, (Y/N) had stamina. But the composure. Jessy cracked first, snorting uncontrollably. Meg followed with a laugh that sounded like a seal, and Lily—despite herself—started giggling so hard she had to leave the room with the blanket wrapped around her like a cursed Victorian ghost.

From Lily’s bed, (Y/N)’s voice rang out—clear as crystal.

“Shut UP, I can hear you laughing!”

“WE CAN HEAR YOU!” Jessy shouted back, absolutely cackling.

There was a pause. Then a triumphant moan from (Y/N). As if to say, I regret nothing.

In the morning, (Y/N) emerged wrapped in Lily’s robe, looking like a victorious war general. Her hair was a mess. Her mascara, gone. But her smirk? Glorious.

“Did we… interrupt anything last night?” she asked with faux innocence, sipping from a coffee mug someone definitely didn’t offer her.

Lily didn’t even look up from her cereal. “Just my will to live.”

(Y/N) grinned. “You said I could use your room.”

“I meant the bed. Not perform an entire Broadway musical in it.”

Jessy raised a brow. “Was he the bartender with the tattoo?”

(Y/N) only smiled, walking back toward the bathroom. “A lady never tells.”

“You do!” Meg shouted.

And she did. But only later. Only after they swore they’d never let Lily’s bed forget it.

.

The sun was a bit too enthusiastic that morning, bleeding through the sheer curtains like it knew I was hungover and smug about it. I was curled up on the living room couch in Lily’s robe, sipping lukewarm coffee and regretting absolutely nothing, when her phone buzzed.

Lily, looking entirely too fresh for someone who'd heard the soundtrack of my night in Dolby Surround Sound, picked it up with a groan and answered. "Hey, baby."

It was Oscar. Of course.

His sleepy voice drifted out of her speaker. "Morning, love. You home?"

“Yep. Whole crew’s still here. (Y/N) brought someone back. You missed a show.”

I choked on my coffee.

Oscar laughed softly. “A show?”

Lily flopped down beside me, phone on speaker now—rude. “Let’s just say… my bed is no longer innocent. I offered (Y/N) my room since hers was locked, and she decided it was the perfect setting for live-action erotica.”

Jessy, from the kitchen: “SHE WAS SO LOUD.”

Oscar snorted. “Wait, (Y/N)?”

“Yes, (Y/N),” Lily said sweetly, glancing at me with the smirk of someone enjoying this way too much. “Turns out our little finance girl has a… vocal side.”

“I hate all of you,” I muttered, pulling the blanket over my head.

Oscar was chuckling now, that low, amused sound that made it easy to understand why Lily fell for him. “You okay, (Y/N)?”

“Peachy,” I deadpanned from under the blanket.

“She’s blushing,” Lily reported gleefully.

“I am not!”

“Red as a Ferrari,” Jessy added, walking by with a bowl of cereal like she didn’t just casually roast me in passing.

“You guys are the worst friends,” I groaned.

Oscar laughed again, sounding way too entertained. “I like that you’re keeping Lily’s life interesting. I feel like I missed an iconic night.”

“You did,” Meg called out from her corner of the couch, still wrapped in three blankets. “We were chaos.”

“I was innocent,” Lily said, pretending to sip tea.

“You were giggling like a twelve-year-old hearing porn for the first time,” I muttered.

Oscar's voice softened. “I love that you all have each other. Makes me feel better when I’m away.”

Lily smiled, her voice dipping into something tender. “We love you, too.”

I peeked out from under the blanket, meeting her eyes for a second—and there it was. That look. The one I didn’t have a name for yet.

Tag List:

@freyathehuntress, @mimisweetz, @aleatorio1234, @totallynotluluu, @rorabelle15, @prongslena

[agreeewrites]

A Madness Most Discreet p.3 | G.W.

feat George Weasley x Malfoy!reader

summary: after a brawl at the Three Broomsticks, you and George steal away for a night of romance without the specter of being caught looming over you. however, when you return to Hogwarts in the morning, you find that things have taken a turn for the worse.

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, protective!George, fighting, drinking, Draco is an asshole, blood prejudice and classism, internal angst, some fluff, Umbridge joins the chat

series navigation | part one | part two | part four | masterlist | divider by @roseraris

Reader's POV

The Three Broomsticks was slammed, damn near packed to rafters with students. Endless trays of butterbeer and whiskey flew over your head to sate the crowds debauched appetites, the glasses rattling with every thump of the shitty punk bands drummer.

You were crammed into a corner booth, sipping on a cocktail you had to teach the bartender how to make, with three of your friends, pretending to care about their relationship drama and the latest Slytherin gossip.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Talia asked, placing a hand over yours to get your attention.

“Not at the moment,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. “I'm finding most Slytherin boys are rather…dull.”

They all nodded sympathetically.

“Well, what about non-Slytherin’s?” Devi asked, leaning in conspiratorially. Everyone was well aware of the fact that dating a non-Slytherin was off the table, as far as your family was concerned.

Little did they know you were sporting a bite mark from a certain red-headed Gryffindor just below the waistline of your skirt.

You rolled your eyes. “Not even worth talking about, let alone dating” you drawled. “Soph, how are things with that Ravenclaw?” You asked, turning the conversation away from you.

“Ugh, I ended that. They were way too chatty,” Sophie laughed, before rambling for about fifteen minutes about why she thought they were too chatty.

You finished your drink and flagged down the waitress for another. “Make it a double,” you said, sliding her an extra galleon. You'd need all the help you could get to survive this evening.

“Who do you think is the hottest Slytherin?” Devi asked.

“If one of you says my brother, I swear to Salazar—” You and Draco hadn't spoken in days, not since the Howler incident, and the last thing you wanted to do was listen to your friends drool over how hot he was.

“No, no!” Devi giggled. “What about Blaise, though?”

“Oh, or Theo!”

“Dull,” you reiterated, laughing along with them. “Theo’s about as toxic as he is tall, and Blaise is so far up his own ass, he can't see the sun.”

“But they are pretty,” Talia argued. “And that's all they really need to be, anyways.”

You chuckled. “Very true.”

“What about Gryffindor?” Sophia asked.

Devi chewed her lip, then—”Okay, okay, don't laugh, but I think the Weasley twins are gorgeous.”

You about choked on your fresh drink. “The Weasley's?” You asked, putting as much incredulity into your voice as you could.

“I know, I know. But George is like—” Devi fanned herself.

“They are unreasonably tall,” Sophia added. “And that will always make a guy hotter.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, look!” Talia squeaked, pointing at the door.

As if Devi manifested them, Fred and George sauntered into the Three Broomsticks, with Lee, Ron, Harry and Seamus on their heels. And of course, George looked damn near sinful in his light wash jeans and rugby jersey, his hair tousled in that devil-may-care, thoroughly kissed way he looked after you got your fangs into him.

Merlin, you saw him yesterday, you needed to get a grip.

His eyes snagged on yours across the room, a spark igniting that you could see even in the dim and dusty tavern. But then, Angelina Johnson swept in, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him over to the couches where her and her friends were.

You didn't have a problem with Angelina, you shared Magical Runes together, and she always struck you as plucky and clever, two traits you liked very much in a woman. But disquiet pooled in your stomach when George smiled down her, saying something you couldn't make out while he graciously greeted her friends.

It was ridiculous, though, because you and George weren't official. You couldn't be official—no, wait, you didn't want to be official. Right? You didn't want a relationship, you wanted to have fun. And you were.

Things with George had been lots of fun. And that was all it needed to be. Fun.

“Ugh, that Johnson girl is going to get him,” Devi scoffed, offended by the very insinuation, as if she’d have a chance either way.

“Angelina’s not so bad,” you said without thinking.

Your friends all stared at you.

“Rubbish Quidditch player though,” you added quickly, and they seemed to relax, sliding into gossip about the Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin this weekend.

Angelina was far from a rubbish Quidditch player, but you felt compelled to divert the situation, even if the comment sat like a rock in your stomach.

Your focus turned back to George while your friends dithered, and you noticed he was moving away from Angelina, rather than sitting down like you'd expected. He was shaking his head, mouth turned down apologetically, and your heart gave a little flip.

Was he rejecting her?

His dark eyes flicked to you again, skating over your body, the bare skin of your legs, and a now familiar warmth kicked up in the belly. Even without words or touches, George always managed to make you melt.

You knew he only had eyes for you, and it settled the passing quake in your soul.

He returned to his friends, having to shout over the crowd to order a beer. You smiled to yourself, unable to stop the bloom of affection his voice conjured.

Another hour passed, the two of you on separate sides of the stuffy tavern, periodically catching each other's eye through the haze of pipe smoke. You wanted desperately to ditch your friends and curl up in a booth with him, maybe rent one of the private lounges for a bit…

The tavern doors swung open, and your improved mood immediately soured once more.

Draco came traipsing in with Blaise, Theo, and Pansy, smug as a peacock. You sunk further down into your booth, trying to hide behind Sophia, but of course, Draco spotted you.

He made a beeline straight towards you, pushing through the crowd without care.

“We'll be over there, y/n,” Talia said, pointing at a table across the room while ushering Devi out of the booth, Sophia following them.

“No, wait—shit.” So much for friends.

“I thought you were at the castle?” Draco asked, bracing his hands on the table and the back of the booth. Caging you in.

“I am, obviously,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink. It tasted bitter, watery, but the booze still burned enough to work.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He pressed, sliding your drink away from you.

You scoffed. “Maybe because you're a controlling arse?” You yanked your drink back, liquor sloshing over the rim.

“I'm not—” he sighed. “Okay, I am. But I had nothing to do with that Howler.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don't you have bullshit to peddle elsewhere?”

He slid into the booth and you scooched away, refusing to look him in the eye, lest you cave to his guilty expression. “I'm not bullshitting you. I would never go to father behind your back, I swear.”

Draco had always been a shit liar, especially when it came to you. Sincerity shone through his pale eyes. You hated it, but only because it meant you had been wrong.

“You know he'd blame me for your discretion, so why would I rat?” Draco added, and you knew he was right. Draco always took the fall for your missteps, no matter how you pleaded with your father.

It was Draco's job to protect you, so any failing on your part was ultimately his.

“I know,” you murmured, placing a hand over his. An unspoken apology. Malfoy's didn't apologize.

“You know why I didn't get a Howler too?” He asked.

You shook your head.

He leaned forward, ensuring he wasn't overheard. “I went home with the Vanishing Cabinet, got the flogging in person the day before.”

You gasped, releasing his hand to cover your mouth. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“I thought he'd leave it at that. Didn't want you to worry. But then he sent the Howler…” he mumbled, stealing a swallow of your drink, then screwed up his face in disgust. “That's bloody awful.”

“So, who snitched?” You asked, glancing sidelong at his friends and a few Slytherin’s clustered by the bar they were too young to drink at.

Draco shrugged. “Snape, I reckon. Maybe another student.”

Snape. That's who George accused as well.

“Why would Snape do that?”

“Because he's a miserable fuck trying to get father to trust him,” Draco replied. “Same reason anyone does anything to us.” A bitterness edged his tone, and a frown tugged at the corners of your lips.

When did he start looking so…weary?

“Are you alright?” You asked.

He nodded. “Just couldn't stand having you hate me too.”

“Oi, fucking watch it, Weasley!” Theo barked, wrenching you and Draco from your conversation. “They don't teach respect in the gutter?”

Ron was standing a few feet from Draco's friends, cheeks red with fury. “Fucking lightweight, gets knocked by sodding spring breeze—”

“More like a fucking golem, bloody stupid oaf—”

Ron swung, fist coming hard and fast, but Theo managed to duck under it, driving his shoulder into Ron's guts.

Draco was up in a flash, catching Lee before he could intervene and shoving him back. “How about you mind your fucking business, Jordan? Wouldn't want your jaw too mangled to announce my fucking victory this weekend—”

You jumped up, rushing to try and separate Theo and Ron, who were trading punches like playing cards, but someone caught you around the middle, hauling you back a split second before you got caught with a wayward swipe. So close you felt the air bending around Theo's fist caress your face.

“Enough!” George snapped, directly behind you, his brawny arm solid and comforting around your waist. He released you the next second, though, taking a half-step away. Fred was there the next second, prying Ron out of the Theo's grip while Harry got between Draco and Lee.

You grabbed Draco as soon as Lee had his hands off of him, wrapping your arm around his to keep him from lunging again. “Stop it, D,” you hissed in his ear. “The last thing we need is the Aurors telling father—”

Draco was huffing, anger rolling off him in pungent waves. “Wouldn't be a fucking problem if the boors would just stay in their place,” he spit, pointing a finger in Ron’s face, his Malfoy signet ring flashing in the candlelight.

You gasped. “Draco!—”

Ron lunged towards the two of you, fist cocked back to hit Draco, but George jumped in the middle, catching Ron's fist and shoving him back a step.

“I said enough,” he growled, throwing a glare back at Draco. You'd never seen George so serious, something militant and snarling possessing your sweet Georgie.

“What's the matter Weasley? Can't stand to see your little brother get his ass handed to him?” Theo taunted.

“Ron could snap your scrawny ass like a twig,” you shot back.

“Oi, fuck you. Birds stay out of it—”

George snatched Theo up by the collar, dragging him up onto his tiptoes and shaking him. “Not another word, Nott,” he warned.

Merlin, you knew George was protective, but this…he looked prepared to rip Theo’s throat out with his teeth.

“Okay, okay, let's just calm down. We're not fucking children,” you said, moving away from Draco to get between George and Theo. You placed a hand on George's chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath his ribs, and nudged him back.

Reluctantly, he released Theo, stepping back to stand beside his twin, hackles still raised, chest rising and falling quickly.

Theo opened his mouth to say something else, but your warning glare had him cracking his jaw shut.

“It's over. Draco, take your friends home,” you said, channeling every bit of your mother's authority.

Draco scowled. “You can't—”

“Go. Potter, take Ron back,” you ordered. “You bairns are to young to drink anyways.”

They all scoffed, grumbling about how you weren't the boss of them while still gathering their things. You risked a glance at George, and the proud gleam in his eye made your knees weaken.

“Go on, then. The princess has spoken,” Fred teased, waving them away, grinning when Draco flashed him a vicious glare.

You rolled your eyes and turned your back on them, bracing your elbows on the bar to hide your trembling. The lingering adrenaline from the fight and the thrill of George's protectiveness made you feel a little lightheaded.

“C’mon, let's get out of here,” Fred said, moving towards the door. Lee and George followed, and your heart sank a bit watching George walk away without a backwards glance.

Then—“Actually, I’m gonna hang back for another drink, but I'll meet up with you later?” You overheard George say, and it took everything in you to not perk up like a dog.

“Saw something you liked?” Fred asked, and you could practically hear the waggle in his eyebrows.

“Something like that,” George chuckled.

You risked a glance up in time to see Fred and Lee walk out of the pub, leaving George by the door, waving them off.

“What'll it be, love?” The bartender asked.

“Just a water and a room, please,” you asked, sliding some coins across the table.

George leaned against the other side of the bar, watching you over the rim of his beer. An impish smirk lifted the corner of his mouth.

“Sure, hun.” They took your coins and grabbed a key from under the bar, passing it to you before fetching you water.

You accepted your water with a smile and headed to the stairs, having to stop yourself from taking them two at a time out of excitement. Butterflies rioted in your stomach, your skin tingling in anticipation.

With shaking hands, you unlocked the door, draping your Slytherin scarf over the handle so he'd know which was yours.

Five minutes later, knuckles rapped softly on the door.

“Come in,” you called, turning back to the mirror while your removed your earrings.

A moment later, George appeared in the mirror behind you, his arms looping around your waist and hauling you back into his chest.

“Must you dress so bloody gorgeous all the time?” He asked, openly ogling you in the mirror, hands smoothing over your curves.

You smirked, setting your earring on the vanity. “Never know who I might need to impress—”

George spun you around, pining your hips to the counter as he leaned over you. Your lower belly liquified at the ferine look in his eye. It seemed his blood was still running hot after the fight.

“Find anyone?” He asked, carding his fingers through your hair to tilt your head back a little further, exposing the tender sweep of your neck.

Something reckless in you wanted to test the waters, draw out this newfound, bestial side of him. “There was this one Gryffindor, handsome, charming, dark curly hair—”

George’s fist tightened against your scalp, the prickle of pain making you gasp as he leaned in closer. “I'll call Lee back here then, see if he can wrangle you half as well as I do,” he purred, his hand on your waist sliding down between your legs, rucking up the little dress you wore. His fingers grazed the swell of your aching cunt, discovering the honey soaking through your underwear, and loosed a low chuckle. “Someone else get you this wet, love?” he cooed, kissing along your jaw while you melted like putty.

“Just a coincidence,” you whispered, breathless when his middle finger passed over your vexed clit, still a bit sore from the day prior.

He hummed, withdrawing his hand and resting it on your thigh, letting you feel the wetness clinging to his fingers. “Just a coincidence, huh?”

You whined, folding immediately at the loss of contact. “You'll think I'm insane,” you admitted, hiding your face in his shoulder.

“Will I, now? Why's that?” He tugged your head back up by the roots of your hair.

“I liked…seeing you…get protective…” you mumbled, averting your eyes.

He tilted his head a bit, looking infuriatingly chuffed with the revelation. “Oh, sweet girl. That fight turn you on?”

“Not the fight, just…you.”

“I see.” He nodded sagely. “Here I thought you'd think I was out of line.”

You shook your head, working your lower lip between your teeth. “What would you have done if Theo’s rogue punch connected?”

George's eyes darkened. “Something that would send me to Azkaban for life, probably,” he said, voice pitching lower, the roughness of it making you shiver. “I'm not usually quick to anger, but with you…” He sighed, resting his forehead against yours.

Your heart surged, pounding frantically in your chest. The world felt silty beneath you, shifting, spreading, on the precipice of being swallowed whole. On the verge of falling.

Careless, you plunged forward, crashing your lips into his. He collapsed into you, his tongue diving between your teeth to devour you. You could taste the beer on his lips, something hoppy and dark, intoxicating, and you pulled him closer, needing more, needing to breath him like air.

“Need you,” you panted, gulps of air sawing through your burning lungs.

He tossed you up onto the counter, belt clinking against the ceramic as he undid it. “M’sorry, baby. Can't wait,” he muttered into your hair, spreading your knees apart with his hips.

Panties tugged to the side, the cold bite of the tile against your fevered skin, the steely hardness of his cock breaching your heat, fullness, fuck, so full.

“George,” you keened, nails scrabbling for purchase on the vanity as he fucked up into you, splitting you down the middle. But the clenched fist of your cunt hampered his progress.

“S’fucking tight, rattlesnake. Seven hells,” he growled, spreading your thighs wider, pressing deeper.

“I can't—shit,” you whimpered, tears collecting on your lower lashes at the brutal stretch.

“You can, pretty. I know you can,” he soothed, palming the side of your face and kissing away an errant tear. “Just need to relax f’me.” His other hand left your thigh, dipping between your bodies. Middle finger brushed your clit, tracing gentle circles around it, and you felt your muscles start to unwind, the stitches of pain dissolving into pleasure.

“Fuck, George,” you moaned, his cock sliding a bit deeper as your walls loosened.

“There you go, thaaat's a good girl. Nice n’ easy,” he hummed, withdrawing his hips before sinking forward again, finding a steady, languid rhythm as he fucked you open. “You feel so good, baby. Perfect little pussy takin’ me so well,” he praised, lips feathering over your pulse.

Pleasure mounted, evident by the puddle collecting beneath you, slick soaking into his jeans. Your body was starting to ignite, a delicious, consuming warmth spreading under your skin that had you singing his praises. Enraptured.

Lips found yours again, parting, taking, the sloppiness of it dragging you closer and closer to oblivion. Quick fingers and deep, deliberate thrusts hitting every mark, every nerve. It was inevitable, hunting you, chasing you down like prey.

No one could fuck you like George could, and you told him so between broken cries.

“Yeah, baby? No one can fuck you like me—fuckin’ made for me,” he groaned, thrusts getting rougher, punishing as the coil in your belly tightened, baring down on him. “Go on, love. Show me how good I make you feel. Come for me—”

You shattered, a dying star, eclipsed entirely by bliss.

“Shit, gonna take me with you—fuck!” A snap of his hips, the slap barely audible over your mewling, and you snatched his soul, greedy cunt milking him for everything he had.

He braced his hands on the counter, trembling with effort of not crushing you while you twitched and spasmed, locked up so tight he could barely withdraw.

“Shh, love—did so good,” he murmured, kissing every bit of skin he could reach while your mind pieces itself back together, bits of soul adrift in a sea of dopamine. “M’sorry—I didn’t—did I hurt you?”

You shook your head as you came back into your body, feeling his cock slide out you with a surge of release. “Didn't hurt me,” you panted, catching his chin and drawing him into an airy kiss, too out of breath for a proper one, but feeling compelled to do it anyways.

“Good,” he exhaled with a relieved smile, pecking your lips again. “How long do we have the room for?” He straightened to grab his wand and clean you both up.

“Tomorrow morning,” you replied, folding your lips to suppress a smile.

His eyes widened, copper brows shooting up. “Sleepover?”

You nodded, chest swelling with giddy elation. “Sleepover.”

George's POV

George managed to coax you into a shower, insisting on washing your body himself with the cheap inn soap just to hear you purr in pleasure, relaxing completely into him. He didn’t know what it was about you, but he wanted to brush your hair, feed you grapes, fan you with one of those big leaves like Cleopatra.

He was down bad.

“I saw you talking with Draco earlier,” he said, massaging away the tension in your shoulders. “Are you guys okay now?” It was clear how much fighting with Draco weighed on you, and George cared more about your happiness than his own distaste for your younger sibling.

You shrugged. “He's says he didn't snitch—” a soft moan slipped past your lips when he dug into a particularly tight knot. “He actually mentioned Snape as a possibility, like you.”

George was glad you couldn't see the face he made. If Draco accused Snape, it was extremely likely that it was actually the Potions Professor.

How much attention has Snape actually been paying to you?

His hands stilled on your shoulders as anxiety slithered under his skin, coiling around his throat. Could Snape know?

You turned to face him, eyes round and tender. “You worry too much,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around his neck, dripping wet skin pressing against his. His anxiety unraveled, bones softening, and bent down towards you like the branches of a willow. Molded his lips to yours.

It wasn't hurried, stolen seconds like the majority of the kisses you shared. Rather, it was languid, loose and messy and indulgent. Lips gliding through warm water, tongues sweeping, tasting, savoring.

He was lightheaded with it, bracing one of his hands on the stone wall behind you, afraid he'd dissolve entirely and wash down the drain. Away from you.

Merlin, how could he ever be away from you?

Then, it dawned on his that this may be the only chance he'll have to do this with you-- spend a quiet night somewhere safe, where he could love you however he wanted without fear of being caught. He could shower with you, sleep in the same bed with you. Such simple mundanities that felt more precious than gold with you.

This thing with you was fleeting—a strike of lightning. A shooting star. And soon, it would have to end. He couldn't bring you home, couldn't get a flat with you—

The thought stole his breath, a pained sound escaping from his throat, and you broke the kiss, pulling back to look at him.

“George?” You caressed his cheek, pushing his soaked hair from his forehead. The sweetest thing. “Love, are you alright?”

He nodded, turning his head into your palm and brushing the delicate skin of your inner wrist, the heel of your palm, with his lips. He didn't trust himself to speak.

“Let's just focus on being here, yeah?” You murmured, able to discern where his mind had taken him. “Just us, just tonight.”

Tears burned behind his eyes, but he pushed through them in favor of kissing you again, crowding you back against the shower wall. Focused on the heat of your skin, the slide of your limbs around his, your tongue on his throat, and let worries of tomorrow wash away.

After a second, equally as intense round, he dried you both off and carried you to bed, your wobbly legs that of a newborn fawn. The bookshelves beside the bed caught his eye, and he wandered over after tucking you in and lighting some candles.

He slid something off the shelf, garnet leather, tattered at the corners, with silver embossing on the cover and spine: Romeo and Juliet.

Normally, he wouldn't reach for Shakespeare, but you made him want to weave sonnets, monologue verbosely on balconies edge—

“How's this?” He asked, turning to show you, and your kiss-bitten lips curled into a sleepy smile.

“Perfect,” you hummed.

He climbed back into the downy bed beside you, your naked body curling against his side, natural as the moonlight caresses the wall. The steady thrum of your heartbeat synchronized with his as you got comfortable, nuzzling into his shoulder.

The book opened with an antiquated crack, pages thin and yellowed with time. He leafed through it until he reached the Prologue, and started to read aloud.

“Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean,

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,

A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life…”

Reader’s POV

When you and George return to the castle the following morning, you part as if complete strangers. Without a backwards glance, without the preamble of a goodbye. George turned towards the Great Hall, you, towards the library. But the loss was an anchor on your heart, raw and sulfuric as freshly carved grief.

Going back to acting like strangers, propping up the charade after the bliss of tearing it down, felt impossible. Insurmountable. Agonizing.

You'd never been more sure that George Weasley was yours and you were his. And what a cruel trick of fate that you could never be together, not without sacrificing everything else.

And even if you were willing to, you knew George wasn't. He would never give up his family, would never disappoint them in that way. And you could never ask him too, not matter how badly you wanted him.

But you couldn't let him go either, too selfish, too desperate, too possessive. A dog with a bone. How could you go back to that world of callousness, of treachery and darkness after being bathed in his light?

You made it nearly halfway to the library when a commotion rang out, students running down the hall back towards the courtyard at the center of the castle. Like the rush of a river, you were quickly caught up it in, bobbing along until you were spit out at the back of a massive crowd of students and faculty.

Draco's platinum hair caught your attention towards the front, and you forced your way towards him.

“What's going on?” You hissed, tugging at his robes.

He turned, a cruel retort on his tongue until he realized it was you. “Trelawney’s getting canned,” he snickered, ushering you in front of him, his body shielding your from the push of the crowd.

That explained the wailing.

“Why on earth would Dumbledore do that—” but then you noticed the pink-clad Umbridge standing beside the bawling Divination professor and all of her belongings. You had always disliked the puggish woman, with her upturned nose and pressed lips, expensive tweed dyed that horrible, intestinal pink.

In her hand, she held a dismissal order on the Ministry letterhead.

Something was deeply wrong.

You spotted George across the way, standing with his siblings, Harry and Hermione. He edged in front of Ginny, pulling her just slightly behind him as he watched Umbridge chastise poor Trelawney with narrowed eyes. He had Harry by the shoulder, preventing the impulsive boy from running out the professors defense.

He looked…afraid. Fred did too.

George's eyes met yours, softening a bit before they flicked up to Draco, and immediately turned glacial. Hostile. You glanced up and found Draco smiling, and your stomach turned.

McGonagall rushed out, gathering Trelawney in her arms and shushing her.

“Is there something you'd like to say, dear?” Umbridge asked.

“Oh, there are several things I'd like to say,” McGonagall bit.

Draco snickered, and you elbowed him.

Then, the doors burst open behind you, revealing Albus Dumbledore. He strode forward, anger practically radiating off of him.

“Professor McGonagall, might I ask you to escort Sybil back inside?”

The way Umbridge was looking at him, all arrogance and snobbery. Like she knew something he didn't…

Understanding settled heavy on your bones. This was no ordinary sacking—this was an act of war. The war George tried to explain. The war that your family tried to hide from you. The war that the Ministry was in denial of, that you were in denial of.

George had tried to warn you, but it was too late.

The war had officially come to Hogwarts, and you were standing on the wrong side of it.

Thank you for reading!

If you'd like to be included in the taglist, comment below!

taglist: @pxige1234, @simars3, @jaybbygrl, @irlpokemonsworld, @just-some-random-blogger, @marrykisskilled, @tgnvhp, @rainydayathogwarts , @angelicbabydolll, @collectivefae, @weasleylovers, @arizonadesert, @i-love-gvf, @falsedivide, @catiwinky , @logana123, @mara-018, @bunbunbl0gs, @queermushy, @tetra-stark, @honeybees-18, @watchmerora, @writeoffside, @lwtnsalute, @ss--y, @idreamofgettingout , @laurelthesimp , @little-slyvixen, @f1wh0recom, @4ngeltrumpettt , @katrina0-0, @froggiedragon , @maplestardust, @lousypotatoes , @vic0ofspace , @yearninglustfully, @rhea-sylvea, @sstar-ggirl , @thestylestour

© agreeeeeeeeeee 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[scarletwinterxx]

magnets - choi seungcheol imagine 1/2

buckle up bcs this is going to be a long one, i tried i really did i tried my best writing as much angst as i can. i'm not the best in that genre but i think i like how it turned out... i tried my best to put into words the scenes I had in my head. i needed to make this in 2 parts since it won't let me post all at once😅 so yes THERE WILL BE A SECOND HALF

tbh out of all the stories i wrote here, this one has the most 'me' in it. sad if you realize why i say that but yea😅 in my mind, cheol is the type of man whose love isn't consuming, it just makes everything better, easier, a little less terrifying bcs no matter what you can count on him to be there with you. i guess that's what make me love this story even more. hope you do too!

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve heard it all before. You're too picky. Your standards are unrealistic. Men aren’t that bad.

Lies. All of it.

Men are that bad. They lack common sense, can’t read between the lines, and somehow think saying "you’re not like other girls" is a compliment. You’ve dodged so many disastrous setups that your friends have given up entirely, dubbing you "The Man Hater." 

Until a certain someone crossed paths with you. 

It happens on a regular Friday night. Your group is at some bar Mingyu insisted on checking out, and you're barely listening to Jeonghan talk about his latest situationship when you see him.

Seungcheol walks in like he owns the place. Broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and a presence that makes women glance up instinctively. He doesn’t seem to notice. He’s in a plain black tee, jeans that fit just right, and a watch that looks like it costs more than your rent. The kicker? He doesn’t even try to look hot. He just is.

"Who is that?" you ask, cutting off Jeonghan mid-sentence.

Your friends freeze "Did you just…" Jeonghan starts.

"Who," you repeat, your voice dangerously close to sounding interested, "is that?"

Mingyu, still coughing, thumps his chest. "Choi Seungcheol," he wheezes. "Why?"

"He’s hot," you declare, because there’s no point in denying the undeniable.

"You hate men," Irene reminds you, like you’ve somehow forgotten

"I hate most men," you correct. "That one? I want him."

Jeonghan bursts into laughter. "This is the best night of my life."

You ignore them because Seungcheol is making his way to the bar, completely unaware of the chaos he’s caused. You watch, entranced, as he leans against the counter. When the bartender hands him a drink, he nods in thanks. Polite, effortless. Not once does he scan the crowd for attention like most men do. He knows he has it.

Mingyu, having finally recovered, shakes his head. "No way. Seungcheol turns down everyone."

"Not for long," you murmur, already formulating a plan.

Jihyo narrows her eyes. "Oh my God. You’re serious. You’re actually serious."

"I am."

Irene stares at you, then at Seungcheol. "I give you five minutes before he shuts you down."

"Three," Mingyu corrects.

"Ten," Jeonghan bets

"Have some faith," you scoff, already standing up. "Watch and learn, peasants."

You stride towards the bar, heart hammering, but determination stronger. It’s been years since you’ve been genuinely interested in someone. You’ll be damned if you let this moment pass.

Seungcheol notices you as you approach, and when your eyes meet, he tilts his head slightly curious but unreadable. Up close, he’s even better. You swallow.

Then, with all the confidence in the world, you slide onto the stool next to him before speaking

"So, do we skip the small talk, or do I have to pretend I don’t already want you?"

Seungcheol blinks. Then, he laughs. low, rich, interested and just like that, the game begins. He turns fully to face you, one elbow resting on the bar, drink held loosely in his hand. His gaze flickers over you—assessing, but not in that sleazy way men do when they think they have the upper hand. No, this is different. 

He’s curious.

"That’s a bold opener," he muses, taking a sip of his drink.

You smirk. "I don’t do weak ones."

He hums, seemingly unfazed, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays him. "And what exactly do you already want from me?"

Your fingers drum against the bar as you lean in slightly, "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you, then he sets his drink down with a quiet clink and exhales a small chuckle. "You’re not like the others."

"God, please tell me that’s not your usual line," you tease.

His grin widens. "No. Usually, I don’t even entertain conversations."

"Tragic," you say dryly. "You’ve been missing out."

His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek, and you swear you see a flicker of actual interest settle in his expression. Then, suddenly, he shifts gears.

"You came over here with a plan," he states, amusement laced in his voice. "Go ahead. Impress me."

Oh, he’s fun. You tilt your head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Alright. First, we exchange names not because I don’t already know yours, but because manners are important."

Seungcheol chuckles, but he plays along. "Choi Seungcheol."

You extend a hand. "Nice to meet you, Seungcheol" you say his name, telling him yours also

"I know who you are." That throws you off for exactly half a second, and you hate how much you like hearing him say your name. 

"Oh? And how exactly did you hear about me?"

"I have ears," he shrugs. "And friends who talk too much." he looks behind you. You glance back at your table, where your friends are openly staring.

"They bet against you, didn’t they?"

"Obviously." you scowl then turn to look at him again

"And yet, here we are."

"Here we are," you echo, matching his smirk.

He looks at you for a moment longer, as if weighing his next move. Then, he leans in slightly, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Alright. You’ve got my attention. Now what?"

You don’t get flustered easily. You’ve shut down men with nothing but a raised brow and a well-placed bless your heart more times than you can count. But there’s something about the way Seungcheol leans in, watching you with that amused little smirk, that makes your pulse trip over itself.

"That depends. Are you going to buy me a drink, or am I going to have to suffer through this conversation sober?"

His smirk turns into a full grin, slow and devastating. "So demanding."

"I don’t waste time," you quip

He chuckles, a deep, satisfied sound, before signaling to the bartender. "Get her whatever she wants," he tells them, then glances back at you. "And if you say something ridiculous, I’m judging you."

"Wow," you scoff, placing a hand over your heart. "You don’t even know my order, and you’re already prepared to be disappointed? You really are different."

Seungcheol snorts. "Just don’t tell me it’s some overly complicated drink with eight different ingredients."

You hum, making a show of considering his words before turning to the bartender. "A whiskey sour."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Not bad."

"Did you think I was going to order an appletini?"

"Honestly? I wouldn’t put it past you."

You laugh, shaking your head as the bartender hands you your drink. You take a sip, enjoying the slight tang, then tilt the glass in his direction. "See? No judgment necessary."

"I’ll admit, I’m a little relieved," he teases, taking a sip of his own drink.

You narrow your eyes playfully. "So, is this your thing?"

"My thing?"

"Buying girls drinks, making them feel special, then walking away like a mysterious, unattainable dream?"

Seungcheol huffs out a quiet laugh. "Not really. Like I said, I usually don’t entertain conversations."

"But you’re entertaining this one."

He tilts his glass toward you in a silent toast. "I am."

You clink your glass against his, a slow smirk creeping onto your lips. "I must be special, then."

Seungcheol watches you over the rim of his glass, his gaze just a little darker now. "You must be."

You linger at the bar with Seungcheol for a few more moments, exchanging teasing remarks and sidelong glances, but eventually, you decide to leave while you're ahead.

"Well, this has been fun," you say, setting your now-empty glass on the counter.

Seungcheol tilts his head. "Leaving already?"

"What, you want me to stay?"

He huffs a quiet laugh. "I wouldn’t mind."

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "Tempting… but I like to keep things interesting."

Before he can respond, you slide your arm across the bar toward him, palm up. His brows raise slightly, but he doesn’t hesitate. He picks up a pen left behind by the bartender and, with deliberate strokes, scrawls his number across your forearm.

When he finishes, he caps the pen, meeting your gaze with a knowing smirk. "Your move."

You glance at the numbers, then back at him. "We’ll see." Then, without another word, you turn on your heel and walk back to your table.

As expected, your friends are staring. The moment you reach the table, Jihyo blurts, "What happened?!"

You take your seat, completely unbothered, and casually extend your arm, showing off the ink on your skin. Silence.

Then

"WHAT THE—?!" Mingyu practically screeches, nearly knocking over his drink in the process. “Wait, wait. So, you—the man hater—just casually waltzed over there, flirted with Choi Seungcheol, and now you have his number?"

"Looks like it." You examine your arm with a smug smile.

Jihyo grips your wrist, eyes darting over the digits. "So? Are you texting him? Calling? When’s the wedding?"

You shrug, retracting your arm. "I’m not texting him."

Jihyo looks betrayed. "Why the hell not?!"

"Where’s the fun in that?" You take a slow sip of your drink. "Let’s see if he texts first."

Jeonghan looks at you before the evil smile shows on his face, “You didn’t give him your number, didn’t you?”

“Nope”

Jeonghan leans forward. "Oh, you’re evil."

You don’t text him that night. Or the next. His number, which you took time to save on your phone, remains stagnant on your contact list. 

You’re lounging on your couch, half-listening to a true crime documentary, when your phone buzzes with a call from an unknown number. You stare at it for a second, debating whether to answer, before sighing and picking up.

"Hello?"

Silence. Then—

"Was this your plan all along?"

You freeze. That voice is unmistakable. Leaning back against the cushions, you fight the smirk threatening to form. "Choi Seungcheol."

"You remember my name. Good to know," he deadpans.

You hum, inspecting your nails. "You sound a little… frustrated."

"I had to track down your friends just to get your number," he says, and you can hear the irritation laced with amusement. "Do you know how annoying that was?"

You bite back a laugh. "Who caved?"

"Mingyu. He held out for, like, ten seconds."

You laugh, imagining the exact moment Seungcheol probably cornered Mingyu, all intimidating and brooding, while your friend fumbled immediately.

"So," Seungcheol continues, "tell me, was this some elaborate game? Give me your number, wait for me to text, then just ghost me?"

"I didn’t ghost you. I just never texted in the first place."

"Exactly."

You grin, stretching out lazily. "Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d chase."

A pause. Then, in a tone far too smug for your liking "So you like being chased?"

Your stomach does a stupid little flip, but you refuse to let him know that. "I like seeing who puts in effort," you reply smoothly.

"And? Impressed yet?"

"You’re getting there," you tease.

Seungcheol chuckles, a low, satisfied sound. "Good. Then meet me for dinner."

You blink. "What?"

"Dinner," he repeats, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "You know, a meal? Where two people sit down, talk, and eat?"

"I know what dinner is," you snort. "I just wasn’t expecting you to be so forward."

"You made me hunt you down," he says. "You don’t get to act surprised." Okay. Fair.

"Alright, then," you say, biting your lip to contain your grin. "Pick me up at eight."

And just like that, Choi Seungcheol is taking you to dinner. And at exactly 7:59, your phone buzzes.

Seungcheol: I’m outside.

You glance at the time and snort. Of course, he’s punctual.

Grabbing your purse, you take one last look in the mirror before heading out. As soon as you step outside, you spot Seungcheol leaning casually against his car. A sleek, black beauty that looks just as effortlessly expensive as he does.

His eyes sweep over you as you approach, and he smirks. "You clean up nice."

You arch a brow. "I always look nice."

"Cocky."

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, he glances at you. "Comfortable?"

You hum, running a hand over the buttery leather seats. "Not bad. I guess your car is alright."

Seungcheol scoffs. "You guess? This car is a masterpiece."

You grin. "I’m sure it’s great at making up for other shortcomings."

He barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he pulls onto the road. "You just can’t help yourself, can you?"

"It’s a gift," you say sweetly.

He glances at you, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You really made me work for this date."

"You chased," you remind him.

"And you liked it."

You pretend to consider. "A little."

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping."

You meet his gaze, and for once, you don’t have a witty comeback. Seungcheol pulls up to a sleek high-rise, handing his keys off to the valet like it’s second nature. You step out, glancing up at the towering building, the city lights reflecting off the glass.

You give him a sideways look. “Fancy.”

He smirks. The elevator ride is smooth and silent, except for the way Seungcheol occasionally glances at you. When the doors open, you step into a dimly lit, impossibly exclusive restaurant. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the glittering skyline, the city sprawling below like something out of a movie.

A host greets you by name before leading you to a table near the window. You raise an eyebrow. “How did you even get a reservation here?”

Seungcheol just shrugs, sliding into his seat. “I have my ways.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He leans back, studying you with that same amused smirk. “You like it?”

It’s stunning, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction just yet. “It’s alright.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

The waiter arrives, and Seungcheol orders without even glancing at the menu. You squint at him. “You come here often?”

“Not really. Just know what’s good.”

“So, what, you bring all your dates here?”

Seungcheol sets down his glass, eyes locked onto yours. “No.”

You tilt your head. “No?”

He shakes his head. “You’re the first.”

Your stomach does something stupid and traitorous, but you keep your expression cool. “Guess I should feel special.”

His lips quirk up. “You should.”

And damn it, for once, you do. As the waiter leaves, Seungcheol leans forward, swirling the dark liquid in his glass before giving you an all-too-amused look.

“So, I heard something interesting from Mingyu.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s never a good sign.” 

“Apparently, you have a reputation.”

You take a slow sip of your drink. “Do I?”

Seungcheol smirks. “Something about being a ‘man hater,’ quote-unquote.”

You nearly choke. “Oh, for the love of—” You set your glass down with a little more force than necessary. “I am not a man hater.”

He rests his chin on his hand, clearly entertained. “Mingyu made it sound pretty serious.”

You roll your eyes. “Mingyu is dramatic. I just—” You gesture vaguely. “—don’t waste my time with idiots.”

“So, most men are idiots?”

You sigh, giving him a pointed look. “Look, I just have high standards. That doesn’t make me a man hater.” You pick up your drink, muttering, “Mingyu talks too much.”

Seungcheol just laughs, looking way too pleased with himself. You lean back in your chair, twirling the stem of your wine glass between your fingers, watching him with a knowing smirk.

"You know," you start casually, "I heard something about you too."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You nod. "Apparently, you’re the guy who turns down women without a second thought."

He hums, taking a sip of his drink before setting it down. "Mingyu, again?"

"Maybe."

He smirks. "He really needs a hobby."

"Don’t change the subject," you tease, tilting your head. "So, is it true?"

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watches you for a moment, like he’s deciding how much to say. "Depends," he finally says.

"On what?"

"On what you think ‘true’ means."

You narrow your eyes. "That sounds like something a guy who’s absolutely guilty would say."

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, I’m not some heartless bastard. I just don’t waste time on something I know won’t go anywhere."

You cross your arms. "And what exactly makes you so sure it won’t go anywhere?"

He shrugs, voice even. "You can tell when someone only wants you for the wrong reasons."

Something about the way he says it makes you pause. It’s not cocky. It’s just… matter-of-fact.

You watch him carefully. "So, what, they just like the idea of you?"

He meets your gaze, unreadable. "Something like that."

You hold his stare, and for a moment, the teasing dies down, replaced by something heavier. Something real. Then, because you refuse to let things get too serious too quickly, you click your tongue.

"Damn," you say, shaking your head. "And here I was thinking you were just playing hard to get."

Seungcheol laughs, the tension breaking. "And yet, you still showed up."

You grin. "Guess I like a challenge, too."

He lifts his glass toward you in a silent toast.

"Good," he murmurs, eyes dark with amusement. "I’d be disappointed if you didn’t."

The food was amazing, company even better. He’s funny without trying, you don’t think you laughed that much in a while. And a guy being the reason? A miracle truly. 

He’s driving you back home leaning back in the passenger seat, comfortably full from dinner, when his voice cuts through the quiet.

"So." His fingers drum lazily against the wheel. "Why didn’t you text me?"

You glance at him, feigning innocence. "Text you?"

He gives you a look. "You know. After that first night."

You smirk, tilting your head. "Ohhh, you mean when you wrote your number on my arm like some overconfident frat boy?"

Seungcheol scoffs, but his lips twitch. "I was being resourceful."

"Sure." You shrug. "Guess I just wasn’t in a rush."

He raises an eyebrow. "Weren’t interested?"

"I didn’t say that."

"Didn’t not say it either."

You chuckle. "Alright, fine. Maybe I just wanted to see how serious you were."

Seungcheol hums. "So, making me track down your friends and practically interrogate Mingyu was a test?"

You flash him a grin. "And you passed."

He glances at you, amusement glinting in his eyes. "I knew you were trouble."

"You knew," you agree, smirking. "And yet, here you are."

Seungcheol shakes his head, but there’s no hiding the way his lips curl up. "Yeah," he murmurs, like it’s more to himself than to you. "Here I am."

You don’t tell anyone about the dinner. Not because you’re trying to be secretive, but because there’s nothing to tell. At least, that’s what you tell yourself but the others notice something.

"You’re in a good mood," Jihyo says one afternoon, squinting at you suspiciously over her coffee.

You blink. "Am I not allowed to be?"

"You are," she says slowly. "It’s just unusual."

Mingyu chimes in from across the table. "Yeah, you haven’t made fun of me once today. It’s kinda weirding me out."

You roll your eyes. "You want me to insult you?"

"Lowkey, yeah."

Jeonghan, who’s been scrolling through his phone this whole time, suddenly looks up. "Wait. You are acting different."

Irene nods, narrowing her eyes. "Yeah. You’re… less murdery. "You know." She gestures vaguely. "Less I’ll kill a man if he looks at me the wrong way."

You groan. "You guys are so dramatic."

"Okay, so what happened?" Jihyo presses.

"Nothing."

Jeonghan smirks. "That means something." Four pairs of eyes immediately narrow at you.

"Who is it?" Jeonghan adds, grinning like a wolf. "Oh, wait—" His eyes gleam with mischief. "Who’s the poor bastard?"

You roll your eyes. "There is no bastard. Poor or otherwise."

"She’s deflecting," Jihyo announces.

Mingyu leans forward. "It’s Seungcheol, isn’t it?"

You don’t react. Not visibly but the millisecond of silence is enough. Jeonghan’s grin explodes.

"Ohhhh, no way." Mingyu screeches.

You groan, dropping your head into your hands. You should’ve known. You deny, deny, deny until they finally give up, though not without a lot of suspicious side-eyes and unnecessary winks from Jeonghan.

By the time they stop prying, you think you’re in the clear.

That is, until Friday night.

It’s just supposed to be a normal night out—drinks, chaos, and Mingyu probably embarrassing himself at some point. The usual.

But then you see him.

Seungcheol.

And he’s not alone. You clock him the moment you step into the bar, leaning against the counter with a drink in hand, looking ridiculously good in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s mid-laugh, talking to someone. Looks like a close friend. 

You don’t react, keeping your expression neutral, but Jeonghan notices immediately.

"Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?" he asks, following your gaze.

And because the universe is cruel, that’s the exact moment Seungcheol glances over and meets your eyes. A slow, knowing smirk spreads across his lips.

Jeonghan watches it all happen. His eyes widen before he turns to you, grinning like the menace he is. "Oh. My. God."

Mingyu, of course, is oblivious. "Drinks first!" he announces, leading the group toward an open spot by the bar.

Irene and Jihyo follow easily, already deep in conversation, but you feel Jeonghan at your side. His eyes are glinting. You just know he’s about to be a problem.

"You know," he says casually, "for someone who ‘definitely did not go on a date with Seungcheol,’ you two sure looked like you have history."

You don’t even blink. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Jeonghan snickers. "Right. And I’m a law-abiding citizen." You ignore him, signaling the bartender for a drink.

Everything is fine or at least it was until Seungcheol and his friend start making their way over. You don’t react. But you know Jeonghan notices the way you straighten up, the way your fingers tap once against the bar before going still.

His friend gets there first, smiling easily at the group. "Hey," he greets. "Didn’t know you guys were coming out tonight."

Mingyu perks up. "Joshua Hong! What’s up?" He claps Joshua's shoulder, immediately pulling him into conversation.

And that’s when he speaks.

"Small world, huh?"

You refuse to turn your head too fast, refuse to let your body react. Instead, you sip your drink first, then glance to the side. Seungcheol is looking at you like he knows something..

You raise an eyebrow. "Not really. Bars exist."

Mingyu, bless him, is still too caught up in talking to Joshua to notice the undercurrent of whatever is happening here. Irene and Jihyo are watching, though. They’re pretending to be casual, but you can feel their curiosity.

Seungcheol doesn’t drop it. He leans slightly closer, just enough for his voice to drop between the two of you. "You avoiding me?"

"Why would I do that?"

He tilts his head, pretending to think. "Maybe because someone went on a date with me and then acted like it never happened."

Jeonghan is eating this up. He’s watching like it’s his favorite drama, sipping his drink with barely concealed glee.

You sip your drink again, unfazed. "Must not have been that memorable then."

Seungcheol laughs like, full-on laughs and somehow that’s worse than if he had been annoyed.

"Oh, this is fun," he murmurs, shaking his head.

"You need better hobbies," you reply dryly.

"You’re right. I should pick up dating mysterious, difficult women who don’t text back."

You glance at him. "So you’re saying I’m a challenge?"

He smirks. "I’m saying I like challenges."

Your lips curve, but you don’t let the smile take over. You turn back to your drink instead and just like that, the moment passes. Instead, he just slides into conversation with the rest of the group like nothing happened. Like he’s not already thinking about the next time he’ll get you alone.

The night goes on as if nothing happened. As if Seungcheol didn’t just throw you off balance with his ridiculous smirk and infuriatingly charming presence. But then, when Seungcheol and Joshua drift off to another part of the bar, Jihyo pounces.

"Okay, explain."

You feign ignorance, sipping your drink. "Explain what?"

Irene scoffs. "Don’t play dumb. You were literally just flirting with him."

You roll your eyes. "I was not."

"That was the most obvious non-flirting flirting I’ve ever seen," Jihyo insists. "And I’ve known Jeonghan for years."

Jeonghan smirks. "She’s right, you know."

Mingyu, now finally catching up, furrows his brows. "Wait. Are we talking about Seungcheol?"

"No, we’re talking about your ability to be dense," Irene says, exasperated

Jihyo leans in. "I thought you wanted him."

You groan, rubbing your temples. "I do."

She blinks. "Then what’s the problem?"

You sigh. "That’s the problem."

Mingyu looks confused. "Wait, I’m lost."

Irene pats his arm. "Sweetie, this is grown-up business." This makes Mingyu glare at him, jokingly pushing her sideways

Mingyu scowls. "I am grown!"

"You’re a puppy," Jeonghan corrects.

Meanwhile, Jihyo is still staring at you like you’ve lost your mind. "So you want him, but that’s the problem."

"Yes."

She stares harder. "You’re gonna have to give me more than that."

You huff, crossing your arms. "Look, it’s one thing to think a guy is hot. It’s another to actually want to do something about it. And it’s another thing entirely when that guy is Seungcheol."

Jeonghan hums. "Because he’s…?"

"Because he’s Seungcheol." You gesture vaguely. "Effortlessly hot. Stupidly charming. A literal menace who just gets whatever he wants without even trying."

Jihyo raises an eyebrow. "And that’s… bad?"

You exhale. "It’s bad because I don’t lose. And I will lose against him."

There’s a beat of silence. Then Jeonghan bursts out laughing.

"Oh, my God," he wheezes, clutching his stomach. "This is amazing."

Mingyu blinks. "I still don’t get it."

Irene sighs, shaking her head. "She’s afraid he’s gonna wreck her life."

Mingyu tilts his head. "That’s dramatic."

Jihyo just smirks. "So what’s your plan?"

You sigh. "I don’t have one." And that? That’s the real problem.

It happens when you least expect it. One second, you’re at the bar with Jihyo, fending off yet another round of questioning. The next Seungcheol is there.

"Can I borrow her for a second?" he asks smoothly, voice just low enough that only you can hear the real intent behind it.

Jihyo raises a brow, eyes flickering between the two of you. You can practically hear her thoughts. But before she can say anything, Seungcheol’s hand finds yours then he’s pulling you away.

You follow, weaving through the crowd until he tugs you into a small corner of the bar. A photobooth. You barely register it before he pulls the curtain shut behind you. The space is tiny. Cramped. You can feel the heat of him, too close, too intoxicating.

"You could’ve just asked to talk," you say, leaning against the side of the booth like you’re not at all affected.

Seungcheol smirks, eyes flickering down to your lips for just a second. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Your pulse jumps. "You like making things difficult, don’t you?"

"I could say the same about you."

You roll your eyes, but the way he’s looking at you—steady, knowing, amused as hell—makes it hard to breathe.

"So," he says, voice softer now, more serious, "why didn’t you text me?"

You exhale, meeting his gaze. "Because I knew you’d find a way to track me down anyway."

"You think you have me figured out?"

You tilt your head, letting the silence stretch before you answer. "I think you don’t like losing."

Seungcheol watches you for a beat. Then he laughs. It’s soft at first, then full and deep, shaking his shoulders as he shakes his head. "God," he mutters, "I should’ve found you sooner."

Your chest tightens. The photobooth timer starts blinking.

3…

His gaze dips—

2…

You don’t move away

1.

The camera clicks.So does something else between you.

The next day at work, you’re in a mood. You glare at your computer. You glare at your coffee. You glare at the innocent potted plant on your desk. And your friends notice.

Jeonghan doesn’t ask immediately. He waits until you’re both in line at the café, you’re scrolling through your phone, pretending you don’t notice him watching you.

"So," he says casually, "when are you seeing him again?"

You freeze. Your finger hovers over your screen. You don’t look at him, but you can feel his smirk. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Jeonghan hums. "Sure you don’t."

You take a deep breath. "Nothing happened."

"See, I know that’s a lie," he says, stepping forward as the line moves. "Because if nothing happened, you wouldn’t be acting like a walking existential crisis."

You scowl. "I am not—"

"—a walking existential crisis?" Jeonghan interrupts, raising a brow. "Oh, please. You’ve been glitching all morning."

You roll your eyes, finally looking at him. "You’re being dramatic."

"Am I?" He crosses his arms. "Because if I recall correctly, you’re the one who wanted him at first sight."

You click your tongue, shifting your weight. "And that’s the problem."

Jeonghan leans in slightly, intrigued. "Because?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "Because I’m hot and cold about this, okay? One second, I want to see where this goes. The next, I’m ready to vanish into the void."

He blinks. "So you like him."

You hesitate. "I—"

Jeonghan’s smirk returns. "Oh, you so like him."

You glare. "I barely know him."

"But you want to," he points out.

You exhale, dragging a hand down your face. "That’s exactly the problem. I don’t get like this."

Jeonghan nods slowly, as if considering. "So what I’m hearing is… Seungcheol has you shook."

You groan, stepping forward as the line moves again. "I hate you."

"You love me."

"Debatable."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, you can keep overthinking this, or you can just let yourself have some fun." He tilts his head. "Unless you’re scared?"

You bristle. "I’m not scared."

His smile widens. "Maybe. Or maybe you’ve just met your match." You stare at him, but before you can argue, the barista calls your order.

Jeonghan winks. "Think about it."

"This," you say flatly, "is why I hate most men."

Jeonghan snickers. "Oh, so you admit you don’t hate all men?"

You glare at him over the rim of your cup. "Unfortunately, some of you have managed to slip through the cracks."

He hums thoughtfully. "And would you say Seungcheol is one of those ‘slip through the cracks’ cases?"

You almost choke on your drink. "Jeonghan," you say warningly.

"Just saying," he muses, blowing on his coffee

You scoff. "Oh, please."

But then you hesitate because, damn it, he has a point. You liked Seungcheol immediately. One look, and you wanted him. And that never happens. It’s annoying. It’s unnerving. And the worst part? Seungcheol knows it.

It’s been a long day. You step out of the building, already thinking about what to make for dinner when you see him.

Seungcheol leaning against his car like he’s posing for a magazine, arms crossed, watching you with an amused tilt of his head. You stop in your tracks.

He smirks.

"Busy?" he asks, pushing off the car as you approach.

You narrow your eyes. "How did you know I was here?"

“Mingyu” you mutter under your breath how you’re going to kill the 6 foot tall man tomorrow. 

Seungcheol chuckles. "Be nice. I was gonna find you eventually."

You glare. "That’s not the point."

He tilts his head. "Then what is?"

You open your mouth then close it. Because, honestly? You’re not sure. Why does he keep coming back? And why the hell do you feel kind of excited that he’s here?

Seungcheol watches you wrestle with your thoughts, then grins. "You gonna invite me up?"

"To my apartment?"

"Where else?"

You fold your arms. "That’s bold."

He steps closer, just enough that you catch the faintest whiff of his cologne. "I don’t like wasting time."

Your heart skips. You should tell him to leave. You should ignore how good he looks in that damn suit. Instead you sigh. "Fine. But if you track me down again because of Mingyu, I’m sending both of you to hell."

Seungcheol grins. "Deal."

The entire drive back to your place is infuriating.

Seungcheol is smiling, smirking, even, like he just won some kind of game. Meanwhile, you’re glaring out the window, arms crossed, regretting every decision that led to this moment. When he finally pulls up to your building, you let out a deep breath, like you’ve just survived something mentally exhausting.

"You always this grumpy?" Seungcheol teases as he steps out of the car.

You shoot him a look. "You always this persistent?"

He just grins. You roll your eyes, leading him up to your apartment. The moment you step inside, you toe off your shoes, toss your bag onto the couch, and grab your phone.

"I’m ordering food," you announce, already scrolling through your go-to delivery app. Seungcheol follows you in, looking around like he’s taking mental notes.

"Nice place," he comments, settling onto your couch like he’s been here before.

You glance at him. "You say that like you weren’t planning to judge it."

And before you can stop yourself, you ask, "Why are you doing this?"

Seungcheol looks at you, head tilting slightly. "Doing what?"

You sigh, turning to fully face him. "This." You motion between the two of you. "Showing up. Finding my number. Tracking me down." For a second, he just watches you. Like he’s figuring something out. Then, he leans back, resting an arm over the couch.

"So this is why they call you the man hater."

You blink. "Excuse me?"

“You’re suspicious of a guy just because he likes you?"

You stare at him, trying to come up with a solid counterargument, something to wipe that smug look off his face.

"Weren’t you the one who approached me first?" Seungcheol asks, raising a brow.

You freeze because technically, yes. You were. That night at the bar, it was you who walked up to him. You who spoke first. You who, despite your reputation of never being impressed by men, took one look at him and wanted him.

And Seungcheol, the same man who apparently turns down women without a second thought, didn’t turn you away. And now? He’s here. Sitting on your couch. Acting like this is just the natural order of things.

"You’re twisting my words," you argue, folding your arms.

"Am I?"

You narrow your eyes. "I approached you because I was curious."

He tilts his head. "And now?"

Every interaction with him has been throwing you off your game. You’re used to being in control but with Seungcheol, it’s like every move he makes is intentional, and he’s too good at getting under your skin.

"You’re annoying," you finally say.

He smirks. "And yet, here I am."

You let out a slow exhale, rolling your eyes. "I should’ve ignored your number that night."

Seungcheol watches your expression shift, and something about it amuses him. "You always like this?"

"Like what?"

He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "Fighting yourself."

You stare at him. "I don’t—"

"You do," he interrupts, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "You’re hot and cold with me, and I think it’s because you don’t like how much you want this."

You hate that he’s right.

"You are so—"

"Annoying?" He grins. "You’ve said."

"Why are you even interested?"

“I like you."

Your heart skips but you refuse to let him see that. So instead, you exhale, shaking your head as you tap at your phone. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you like that," he counters. You pretend you don’t hear him as you place the order.

The food arrives, and you both settle in to eat. Seungcheol sits across from you, comfortably digging into his meal like he belongs here. Like he hasn’t been pushing your buttons all night.

You, on the other hand? You’re still glaring.

He looks up mid-bite, noticing your expression, and smirks. "You always eat like you’re plotting a murder?"

You stab at your food with a little more force than necessary. "Just considering my options."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You should really work on your intimidation tactics."

You huff. "They work on everyone else."

"Ah," he nods, chewing thoughtfully. "So I’m special."

You pause. Damn it. "That’s not what I—"

He holds up a hand, cutting you off. "Don’t worry, I get it. I’m persistent, irritatingly charming, and you don’t know what to do with that."

You scowl. "I know exactly what to do with that."

He raises a brow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You gesture to the door. "Kick you out." Seungcheol laughs. Full-bodied, genuine, like you’re the most entertaining thing he’s come across in a long time. You hate how nice it sounds.

"Okay," he says, still grinning. "I’ll leave—after we finish eating."

You squint. "You act like you’re doing me a favor."

He smirks. "Aren’t I?"

You refuse to dignify that with a response. Instead, you focus on your food, pointedly ignoring how Seungcheol watches you with that infuriatingly amused expression, like he already knows he’ll see you again.

After dinner you walk him to the door, arms crossed, your glare still very much in place. Seungcheol, in contrast, looks ridiculously satisfied, like he’s had the best night of his life just bothering you.

You stop at the door, unlocking it before turning to him with a deadpan expression.

"I changed my mind," you announce.

His brows lift slightly. "About what?"

"I don’t like you anymore."

Seungcheol grins. Like full-on, dimple-showing, teeth-flashing grin.

"That so?" he hums, stepping just a little closer, enough that you have to tilt your head to keep eye contact.

Your jaw tightens. "Yes."

He tilts his head slightly, watching you with the same entertained look he’s had all night.

"That’s a shame," he murmurs.

You cross your arms tighter. "Why?"

"Because," he leans in, voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch, "I still like you." He pulls back, opens the door himself, and steps out. 

"Goodnight," he says, like this is just routine now. Leaving you standing there, your heart beating entirely too fast, absolutely furious that he got the last word.

The next morning, you stomp out of your building and slide into Jeonghan’s car with more force than necessary.

Jeonghan barely glances at you before pulling out onto the street. "Good morning to you too."

You cross your arms, scowling at the window. "I hate him."

"Who?"

You don’t answer right away, mostly because admitting it feels like a loss. But then, under your breath "Seungcheol."

Jeonghan laughs. "You know, for someone who supposedly hates men, you’re really bad at resisting this one."

"I’m not—" You pause. "He’s just—annoying."

"And yet," Jeonghan drawls, "here you are, grumbling his name first thing in the morning."

You shoot him a glare. "Drive the damn car, Jeonghan."

He grins wider, turning up the radio. "Whatever you say, lovergirl."

You get to your desk, ready to start your day with the same level of annoyance you’ve carried since last night and then you see them. A bouquet. Right there. Sitting in the middle of your desk. Jeonghan, who’s still walking behind you, lets out a low whistle. "Oh, would you look at that?"

You drop your bag, snatch up the little card attached, and read it twice just to be sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you.

Try again. I think you still like me. —S.C.

Your eye twitches. Jeonghan, blatantly reading over your shoulder, bursts out laughing.

"Oh, this is amazing," he says, delighted. "I’ve never seen someone get under your skin this fast."

You slam the card down, glaring at the flowers like they’re the true enemy. "I hate him."

"You’ve mentioned." Jeonghan plucks one of the flowers from the bouquet, twirling it between his fingers. "So what are you gonna do?"

You grab the bouquet with way too much force, march over to Mingyu’s desk, and shove it onto his table. Mingyu, who was minding his own damn business, blinks in confusion. "Uh—?"

"They’re yours now," you say, turning away.

"But—"

"You’re welcome!" you call over your shoulder, marching back to your desk. Jeonghan watches the entire thing with an evil smirk.

"You really think that’s gonna stop him?" he muses.

You drop into your chair, arms crossed. "I don’t care."

Meanwhile, across town Seungcheol leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Joshua with a smirk.

"She gave them to Mingyu?"

Joshua, who had just finished relaying the entire story from Mingyu’s frantic texts, sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She didn’t even hesitate."

Seungcheol chuckles, clearly not deterred. "Figures."

Joshua gives him a look. "You sound way too happy about that."

"Because I am," Seungcheol says simply.

Joshua stares. "You just got rejected via floral delivery, and you’re smiling."

Seungcheol shrugs, completely unbothered. "She reacted."

Joshua raises a brow. "That’s your takeaway?"

"Of course," Seungcheol leans forward, tapping his fingers against his desk. "If she really didn’t care, she would’ve ignored them. But instead, she marched across the office, gave them to Mingyu, and made sure I’d hear about it."

Joshua squints. "That’s…a reach."

Seungcheol just grins. "Is it?"

Joshua sighs, already exhausted. "Okay, so what’s the plan now, lover boy?"

Seungcheol picks up his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he lands on the one he had personally gotten from Mingyu last week. Your phone buzzes on your desk, and you glance at it once. Then you freeze because there, bright as day, Seungcheol.

Your fingers twitch. You shouldn’t pick up. In fact, you should do the responsible thing and ignore him completely but then the call keeps ringing, like he knows you’re staring at it, like he’s waiting for you to break.

You almost ignore it..Almost. With an annoyed huff, you snatch up the phone and answer.

"What."

A low chuckle greets you from the other end. "That’s no way to greet your boyfriend."

Your entire body jerks. "Excuse me?"

"Ah," Seungcheol hums, clearly amused. "Too soon?"

"Way too soon," you deadpan. "And completely delusional."

"And yet, here you are, answering my call."

Your eye twitches. "Do you want something, or are you just here to waste my time?"

"Both," he admits easily.

You resist the urge to throw your phone. "Seungcheol."

"Fine, fine," he laughs. "Just wanted to check if my flowers got delivered."

You glare at nothing. "Oh, they did."

"And?"

"And they now belong to Mingyu." There’s a beat of silence then he’s laughing. And you hate it, you hate how good it sounded. 

“You’re so cute when you’re difficult."

You hang up immediately and then proceed to glare at your phone like it’s personally betrayed you. Across the room, Jeonghan watches your entire reaction unfold, smirk growing wider by the second.

"So," he drawls, "how’s your boyfriend?"

You launch a stress ball at his head.

Later that night, Jeonghan is sprawled out on your couch, one arm slung over his face as he lazily kicks at the air.

"You got any more of those fancy chips?" he asks.

You barely glance up from your phone. "Pantry."

"Ugh. Too far."

"You have legs."

He groans dramatically, but he doesn’t move. You roll your eyes and keep scrolling, ignoring him—until his voice turns serious.

"Alright," he says, sitting up. "All jokes aside—what’s going on?"

You pause, side-eyeing him. "What?"

Jeonghan leans forward, elbows on his knees, studying you in a way that makes you shift uncomfortably.

"You said it yourself that you wanted him," he says, voice softer now. "So why are you acting like this?"

Because you’ve been here before. Because the last time you really liked someone, you got your hopes up, and it all went to shit. Because you’ve learned the hard way that people say one thing and do another, that words mean nothing without action.

Jeonghan knows this. He’s been there through it all—through the flings, the almost-relationships, the guys who were great until they weren’t. He was there when you decided you were done trying, when you shrugged off love like it was an optional extra, not something you needed.

Now, he’s watching you like he’s seeing through you.

"You’re scared," he says simply.

You scoff. "I am not—"

"You are," he cuts in. "And I get it. But you can’t keep pushing people away just because they might disappoint you."

You bite your lip, looking away.

"Seungcheol isn’t them," Jeonghan continues. "And I don’t think he’s gonna give up just because you’re being difficult."

"...Maybe he should."

Jeonghan chuckles, but it’s not mocking. "Too bad for you, I don’t think he will."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "He will."

Jeonghan raises a brow, amused. "You sure about that?"

"Yes," you say firmly. "He’s rich, good-looking, and clearly used to getting what he wants. Guys like him don’t chase for long. The second I make it too much work, he’ll move on."

Jeonghan just smirks, shaking his head. "That’s cute. You think you’re hard to want."

You glare. "Don’t analyze me. I am not dealing with another guy who’s all interest at first and then disappears the moment things get real."

Jeonghan hums, watching you for a moment. Then, with a knowing glint in his eyes, he asks, "So if he doesn’t disappear?"

You blink.

"If he doesn’t give up," Jeonghan says, leaning closer. "If he keeps showing up, keeps proving you wrong—then what?"

You press your lips together, refusing to answer. Because you don’t know.

Jeonghan’s words replay in your head for the next couple of days. You try to brush them off, but they stick. if he doesn’t give up, then what?

But then, Seungcheol stops contacting you.No texts. No calls. No annoying flower deliveries. And in your mind, you’re like, See? I was right.

You told Jeonghan exactly how this would go. Guys like Seungcheol don’t chase for long. They get bored, they move on, they—

Knock, knock.

Your head snaps toward the door, heart inexplicably jumping. It’s late. You’re already in pajamas, wrapped in a blanket on your couch, halfway through a show you weren’t even paying attention to. The knocking comes again.

Slowly, you get up and pull open the door and there he is.

Seungcheol stands in front of you, looking annoyingly good despite the slight exhaustion in his eyes. He’s wearing a dark coat over a fitted sweater, and there’s an expensive-looking suitcase at his feet.

And in his hand a snow globe.

You blink. "What…?"

"Hey," he says, Just got back from a business trip."

You stare at him. "A business trip."

"Yeah." He lifts the snow globe slightly. "Paris.".

"You brought me a souvenir?"

Seungcheol smirks. "What, you think I’d go all the way to Paris and not bring you something?"

"I—" You pause, suddenly feeling very warm despite the cold draft from the open door. "I just—"

"You thought I gave up," he says simply.

Your stomach flips. You cross your arms, standing a little straighter. "Maybe."

For a second, neither of you say anything. Then, before your brain can catch up, you reach out slow, hesitant and take the snow globe from his hand.

"...Thanks," you mumble.

Seungcheol grins. "You’re welcome."

You step aside, wordlessly letting him in. Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate, walking past you like he belongs there. 

"Why do you always look like you want to fight me?" he asks, amused.

"I don’t," you say flatly.

"You do," he counters, dropping onto your couch like it’s his. "You’ve been glaring at me since the day we met."

You cross your arms. "Maybe it’s just my face."

"It’s cute."

You narrow your eyes. "Don’t start."

Seungcheol laughs, stretching out comfortably. "You gonna offer me a drink or just keep staring at me?"

You inhale sharply, fighting the urge to throw him out. Instead, you turn and march into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses of water. When you return, he’s still lounging on your couch, completely at home.

You set his glass down with a little too much force. "Here."

Seungcheol picks it up, giving you a slow, knowing look. "You’re really bad at this," he says.

"At what?"

"Letting yourself like me." You almost choke on your own water. And Seungcheol? He just smiles.

He takes a slow sip of his water, watching you over the rim of the glass like he’s studying you. Then, like he can read your mind, he says, "Before you start spiraling—I didn’t text because I was busy. Meetings from morning to night, different time zones, clients to entertain. I barely slept, let alone had time to talk."

You blink. "I didn’t ask," you say, defensive.

He smirks. "Then don’t overthink."

You open your mouth to argue because you were not overthinking, thank you very much—but he just keeps going.

"I was in Paris for four days. Mostly business, but I had a few hours to walk around. Thought about you when I saw that snow globe."

Your stomach flips against your will. You grip your glass tighter. "You—what?"

"I thought you’d like it," he says simply. "Or maybe you'd just glare at it. Either way, it reminded me of you."

You stare at him, lips parting slightly because what the hell is he even saying? Because he says it like it’s not a big deal. Like it’s normal to have you on his mind while he’s halfway across the world. So, naturally, you do what you do best—deflect.

"You just showed up at my place," you say, voice carefully flat. "What if I wasn’t home?"

Seungcheol grins. "Then I’d have waited."

"Like a stalker?"

"Like a guy who wants to see you."

Your brain short-circuits.You scramble for something anything to say, but he beats you to it.

"You really don’t get it, do you?"

You frown. "Get what?"

He leans forward, setting his glass down on the coffee table, and your whole body tenses when he holds your gaze. "I don’t do things halfway," he says. "I wanted you from the start. That hasn’t changed."

And suddenly, you’re overthinking again. You fold your arms across your chest, keeping your expression carefully neutral. "You're just saying that because you like the chase."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "And you're saying that because you want me to think you're still a man hater."

"Excuse me?" you say, narrowing your eyes.

He shrugs, completely unfazed. "You keep acting like you don’t care, like you’re waiting for me to mess up so you can say ‘See? I told you so.’ But you’re just trying to protect yourself."

He’s too damn perceptive. Too calm, too confident in the way he calls you out.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," you mutter, looking away.

Seungcheol scoffs. "I do, actually."

He leans forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. "You liked me the second you saw me," he says, voice lower now, smoother. "And that scared the hell out of you."

Your breath catches because he’s right. You hate that he’s right. And the worst part? He sees it. You don’t answer. That's when Seungcheol does something you don’t expect. He stands up. And just like that, the whole atmosphere shifts. The teasing glint in his eyes is gone, replaced with something steadier. Something serious.

"If you don’t want me here, say the word and I’ll leave."

You swallow hard. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your sweater. Because this is it. The out you’ve been waiting for. The chance to end this before you get in too deep.

Your voice is quieter than you intend when you say, "If I do, will you leave?"

Seungcheol watches you, his gaze unwavering. "Yes." You know he’s telling the truth. He’s not the kind of guy to stick around where he isn’t wanted.

"You won’t fight for it?" you ask, hating how vulnerable the words sound.

A small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "I already am."

Your breath catches because damn him. Damn him for saying things like that. Damn him for not pushing, not forcing, just waiting. 

So instead, you exhale, looking away. "Sit down, you’re making me nervous."

Seungcheol smiles and just like that, the tension cracks.

"Yes, ma’am," he teases, sinking back onto the couch like he owns the place.

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your lips betrays you—a slight, reluctant twitch. He sees it, of course. And you don’t miss the satisfied look on his face when he does.

A few days later, Mingyu ruins everything.

“We should go out for drinks,” he says, like it’s just a casual suggestion and not a trap. And like idiots, you all agree. You don’t think anything of it until "By the way," Mingyu adds, far too casually, "I invited Seungcheol."

You freeze.

Mingyu grins, oblivious to the murderous intent in your eyes. "You don’t mind, right?"

Jeonghan snickers. Irene and Jihyo exchange looks.

"Why would she mind?" Irene asks, ever the instigator.

"You’re all insufferable," you mutter, grabbing your drink and pretending you’re unaffected.

You’re going to ignore him. You’re going to sit with your friends, drink, and not think about him. It’s a solid plan.

Then he walks in.

And suddenly, your plan evaporates.

Seungcheol is unfair. Black button-up, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, looking effortlessly good in the worst possible way. He steps into the bar with Joshua beside him, scanning the room and then his eyes land on you.

You should play it cool. Pretend to be mad at him. Hold onto your last shred of self-respect but the moment you see him, you walk straight up to him, ignoring the way your friends watch with poorly concealed amusement.

Seungcheol’s lips twitch, like he was expecting this. "Hi."

You scowl. "I hate you."

He grins. "You said that last time. Didn’t sound very convincing then either."

You open your mouth to argue—but you don’t. Because damn it, you don’t hate him at all. So you stare at him, arms crossed, and say, “What, you’re too busy now?”

His smirk deepens. “Didn’t know you’d miss me so much.”

You scoff. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it.”

Your eyes narrow. “You’re deflecting.”

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

Seungcheol tilts his head, amused. “Didn’t I text you?”

Your lips press together. Okay, fair point. He did text. A few times.

A "How was your day?"A "Don’t overthink too much." 

Still, you lift your chin. “Texts aren’t the same.”

His brow arches. “So you’re saying you wanted to see me?”

 “That is absolutely not what I said.”

Seungcheol just laughs. “But it’s what you meant.”

“Oh my god, I hate you.”

His grin is downright infuriating. “You keep saying that, but I don’t think you mean it.”

You spin on your heel. “I’m leaving.”

Seungcheol just laughs, completely unbothered, like he already knows you don’t mean it. He slides into the seat beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“I was busy because of work,” he murmurs, voice smooth, almost apologetic—but not quite. “Wanted to come see you, but I figured you’d be tired after work, too.”

Your eyes narrow. “That’s your excuse?”

He tilts his head, smirking. “It’s the truth.”

You glare harder, hoping it’ll somehow make him squirm. It doesn’t. He just watches you, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting back a laugh.

“So considerate of you,” you say dryly.

He hums. “I try.” Seungcheol, of course, takes that as his cue to get comfortable. He leans back, stretching his arm along the back of the booth—not quite touching you, but close enough.

“You’re still mad,” he observes, sounding entirely too entertained.

“No,” you deadpan. “I’m thrilled.”

Seungcheol laughs under his breath. “You’re cute when you sulk.”

Your head snaps toward him, eyes burning with fresh irritation. “I am not sulking.”

He just grins. “Whatever you say.”

You step out onto the balcony, the night air cool against your skin as you take a deep breath. You just need a moment, one single moment to yourself. Of course, that’s impossible when Seungcheol is involved.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him. You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Don’t mind me. I’ll sulk on my own.”

Seungcheol hums as he leans against the railing beside you. “Nah, can’t let that happen.”

You throw him a glare. “And why not?”

He shrugs, watching the city lights with an infuriatingly calm expression. “I’d feel bad.”

You scoff. “Oh, now you feel bad?”

“I’ve always felt bad.”

“You don’t look like you do.”

He tilts his head toward you, smiling slightly. “Alright, what do you want, then?”

You exhale, glancing away. The truth sits heavy on your tongue, but you don’t say it. You’re still you, after all. Instead, you mutter, “For you to stop being annoying.”

A breeze drifts between you, carrying the sounds of laughter from inside. For a second, neither of you speak. Then Seungcheol nudges your arm lightly. “You’re really not gonna admit you missed me, huh?”

You don’t say anything.

His smirk softens into something else. Something dangerous. “I can wait.” He exhales, watching you carefully. The smirk fades, replaced by something quieter. something real.

Then he says it.

“I missed you.”

The words slip out so casually, so effortlessly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Your fingers tighten around the railing. Your brain stalls. Your heart does this stupid little flip in your chest. You finally turn to face him, none of the usual teasing or frustration in your expression is just seriousness.

“If it’s going to be like this,” you say, voice steady, “you disappear for days, then coming back like nothing happened then it’s not going to work.”

Seungcheol’s smirk fades completely. He studies you, really looks at you, and you can tell he understands that you’re not just saying this to pick a fight.

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” You cross your arms. “You come and then go, then you just show up out of nowhere. Do you expect me to just—” You shake your head. “I don’t play games, Seungcheol.”

“I know,” he says immediately. “I know you don’t.”

You sigh. “Then what are we doing?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, carefully, “I didn’t think you’d want me to check in like that.”

You blink. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He hesitates. “Because you act like you don’t care half the time.” That stings. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s right.

You inhale sharply. “That’s just how I am.”

“I know,” he says again, softer this time. “But if I’m going to try with you, I don’t want to be another person you expect to leave.”

Seungcheol holds your gaze, unwavering. “So tell me what you want. What you really want.”

For the first time since this started, you don’t have a comeback. You suddenly feel the urge to leave.

Seungcheol’s words sit heavy in your chest—you act like you don’t care half the time. It stung more than you wanted to admit, and now the whole night feels ruined.

“I’m heading out,” you say abruptly, turning on your heel.

You return inside, Seungcheol following behind you. Jeonghan, ever the observant one, catches on immediately. “Let’s go home yea?” he says, grabbing his coat. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t press. Just sticks by your side, because he knows you.

Mingyu frowns. “Already? But we just—”

“Let her go,” Seungcheol says. His voice is unreadable. You don’t look back. Jeonghan walks you out, calls a ride, and when you’re finally inside the car, he leans back with a sigh.

“You gonna tell me what happened?”

You stare out the window. “No.”

He hums, not pushing further. Instead, when you get home, he stays. Puts on a random movie, hands you a blanket, and lets you sit in silence.

Because Jeonghan knows you’ll talk when you’re ready. He doesn’t look at you right away. He stays focused on the movie, lthen he hears it.

A sniffle.

It’s quiet, barely there, but Jeonghan notices everything.

He doesn’t immediately react, doesn’t turn his head or ask if you’re okay, because he knows you. Knows that if he does, you’ll shut down completely.

“I think I’m screwing it up.”

Jeonghan doesn’t even blink. “With Seungcheol?”

You nod.

“Yeah,” he says, blowing on his own tea. “I figured.”

You furrow your brows. “How?”

He snorts. “Because you’re you.” You glare at him again, but he just drives. Eyes still on the road

“I’m serious,”

“So am I,” he says easily. “You’re panicking because this is probably the first time in a long time that you actually like someone. And instead of dealing with it like a normal person, you’re, well—”

“Ruining it?”

Jeonghan shrugs. “Self-sabotaging. But close enough.”

“Great.”

Jeonghan watches you for a moment. Then, softer this time “What did he say to make you leave?”

You hesitate. Then, voice barely above a whisper “That I act like I don’t care.”

“Well, he’s not wrong.”

You snap your head toward him, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You scowl, ready to argue, but then the truth of it hits you.

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much. Because Seungcheol wasn’t wrong. Because you do act like you don’t care, even when you do. Because this whole time, you’ve been pushing and pulling, running hot and cold, and yet

Yet, he’s still here. Still choosing you. The realization makes your chest feel uncomfortably tight.

So you do what you always do when it gets too much. You don’t reach out.

Not the next day. Not the day after that. You tell yourself it’s for the best. That it’s easier this way. That Seungcheol will eventually get the hint and move on.

But then why do you feel like absolute shit?

You go through the motions—work, home, repeat—but there’s this persistent weight in your chest that refuses to go away.

It’s easy to avoid Seungcheol, at least. He works across town, and it’s not like you run in the same circles outside of Mingyu dragging him along. Still. You hate how aware you are of his absence. It’s ridiculous, really. You’ve only known him for a few months, but somehow, he’s already made himself at home in your thoughts.

You wonder if he’s given up on you yet. If he’s decided you’re not worth the effort. The thought makes you feel worse.

You almost walk right past him.

Almost.

“Hey.”

Your steps falter. You take a slow breath before turning to him. He’s standing by the entrance of your building, hands in his pockets, looking at you like he’s been waiting.

You scoff. “Oh. Now you know me?”

Seungcheol exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Don’t do that.”

You don’t even know what exactly you’re doing, but you’re already annoyed. “Do what?”

He gives you a flat look. “Push me away.”

You cross your arms. “Maybe you should take the hint, then.”

Seungcheol steps forward. “You don’t want that.”

You step back. “I don’t?”

“You don’t.” You hate that he’s right. That he can see it. That it’s written all over your face no matter how hard you try to deny it and it frustrates you. More than it should.

“Look, Seungcheol,” you sigh, voice heavy with exhaustion. “You can’t just disappear for days and then show up like—”

“Like what?” he interrupts. “Like I actually give a damn about you?” You flinch. It’s not even what he said. It’s how he said it. The sincerity in his voice. The quiet frustration.

You look away. “I didn’t ask you to.”

He laughs under his breath. “Yeah. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

You hate the way he’s looking at you. Like he knows. Like he’s waiting for you to stop fighting him. You shake your head. “You should go.”

But Seungcheol doesn’t move. Instead, he tilts his head, studying you.  “Do you want me to?”

The answer is no but you don’t say it. You can’t stand the way he looks at you, like he’s already figured you out. Like he knows every excuse, every defense mechanism, every wall you put up before you even have the chance to throw them at him.

So you do what you do best. You push.

"Let’s just go back to thinking I don’t care." The words taste bitter, but you swallow them down, turning on your heel before he can say anything else.

You walk away.

One step.

Two.

Three.

You expect him to stop you. To grab your wrist. To call your name again. To say something but he doesn’t.

The air is heavy with everything unsaid, with everything you’re choosing to leave behind. And yet the farther you get, the harder it is to breathe. Your own words echo in your head, louder and louder, until you almost want to take them back.

Almost.

But you don’t.

Because that would mean admitting that he’s right. That you don’t actually want him to leave. That you’ve just been pushing him away because it’s easier than facing what’s really scaring you.

Because if you admit that you care—really, really care—then that means he has the power to hurt you.

And you’re not sure if you can survive that again.

And Seungcheol?

He lets you go.

The next day Jeonghan doesn’t even need to say anything. The moment he sees you step out of your apartment building, he knows. Your eyes are puffy, your hair is a mess, and you look like you barely got any sleep. Like hell, basically.

"So, rough night?" he asks, starting the car. You grunt in response, which tells him enough.

"You wanna talk about it, or should I just let you wallow in silence until you eventually explode?"

"Silence."

"Got it."

The drive is quiet, but Jeonghan sneaks glances at you every now and then. He’s been with you long enough to recognize when you’re doing it again. The overthinking. The self-sabotaging. The pushing away before you can get hurt.

He knows you want Seungcheol. He knows you care. And he knows that you’re terrified of letting yourself have something good.

So when he finally pulls into the parking lot and parks the car, he doesn’t unlock the doors right away. Instead, he turns to you, voice softer this time.

"You look miserable."

"Wow, thanks."

"I mean it. You look like you barely slept. You’re doing that thing where you overthink yourself into a corner and decide for yourself that you’re better off alone before anyone can prove you wrong."

You hate how accurate that is. "I don’t wanna talk about it, Hannie."

"Fine." He unlocks the doors. "But at some point, you’re gonna have to."

You sigh and grab your bag, stepping out of the car. But as you walk toward the building, Jeonghan calls after you.

"Just answer me one thing—if he calls, are you gonna pick up?"

You pause. The fact that you even hesitate tells him everything. Jeonghan watches you, waiting. Maybe hoping. But when you finally speak, your voice is so quiet.

“No.”

It’s not stubborn. It’s not defensive. It’s not even angry. It’s just… defeated. Like every last bit of fight has already drained out of you.

And that is what makes Jeonghan shut up. 

So, even though it kills him to see you like this, he sighs and just says, “Alright. Dropped.”

But Jeonghan doesn’t move right away. He just sits there in the driver’s seat, watching you disappear through the doors. And for the first time in a long time, he wonders if this time—with Seungcheol—maybe you’re making a mistake.

Jeonghan, Jihyo, Mingyu, and Irene are already a few drinks in when Mingyu suddenly stiffens, his eyes narrowing toward the entrance of the bar.

“Oh, shit.”

Jihyo follows his gaze and lets out a low whistle. “Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

Jeonghan doesn’t even need to look. He already knows. Joshua Hong walks in first, smiling as he exchanges greetings with someone at the bar.

And right behind him? Choi Seungcheol.

It’s been 2 weeks and Seungcheol looks… the same. Maybe a little tired, but still him. The group watches as he follows Joshua toward a table, not even glancing their way.

“Are we going to talk to them?” Irene asks, swirling her drink.

“Should we?” Mingyu hesitates.

Jeonghan sighs, rubbing his temples. He’s been waiting for something like this to happen. Because of course it would. The universe wouldn’t let things be that easy.

Jeonghan exhales, slow and measured, before tossing back the rest of his drink.

“I’ll go.”

Jihyo raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Jeonghan shrugs as he pushes back his chair. “Someone has to.”

Mingyu shifts in his seat. “Want me to—”

“No,” Jeonghan cuts him off, shaking his head. “If it’s just me, he won’t feel cornered.”

They don’t argue. They know Jeonghan well enough to trust him with this. So, with one last glance at the others, Jeonghan straightens his shirt and makes his way across the bar.

“Joshua.”

Joshua turns first, eyebrows lifting in surprise before his lips pull into a smile. “Jeonghan! What a coincidence.”

Seungcheol looks up then, mid-sip of his drink, and his expression flickers—just for a second—before smoothing out. Jeonghan pulls out a chair and sits without asking.

Joshua leans forward, propping his chin on his hand. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight. The others here too?”

Jeonghan ignores the question and turns to Seungcheol instead. “You doing alright?”

Seungcheol stares at him, unreadable. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jeonghan hums, tapping his fingers against the table. “Dunno. Just seems like you haven’t been around much lately.”

Joshua looks between them, lips twitching, but he wisely keeps quiet.

Seungcheol finally exhales, setting his drink down. “Is this about—”

“Of course it’s about her.” Jeonghan doesn’t even let him finish. “You think we wouldn’t notice?”

Seungcheol presses his lips into a thin line.

Jeonghan tilts his head. “She’s been avoiding everything that even remotely reminds her of you. And she’s stubborn as hell, but I know her. She’s not okay.”

Seungcheol’s grip tightens on his glass.

Joshua sighs, leaning back in his chair. “This is why I told you to just talk to her already.”

Seungcheol runs a hand down his face, clearly frustrated. “And say what?”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes. “Say you’re sorry. Say you care. Say literally anything, because she’s convinced herself you don’t.”

Seungcheol exhales sharply. “That’s not—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “She told me to leave.”

“She tells everyone to leave,” Jeonghan deadpans. “And she’s always surprised when they actually do.”

Seungcheol goes quiet. Jeonghan leans forward, voice steady but firm. “If you don’t care, then stay away. But if you do? Do something. Because right now, all you’re doing is proving her right.”

Seungcheol stares down at his drink. Jeonghan watches him, waiting.

And then, after a long moment Seungcheol stands.

Joshua blinks. “Oh? We’re going now?” Seungcheol ignores him, pulling his wallet out and throwing some cash on the table. Then, finally, he turns to Jeonghan.

“Where is she?”

Jeonghan tried calling again. Straight to voicemail.

He frowned. “She’s not answering.”

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “Is she home?”

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan muttered, already pulling up your shared location—but of course, it was off.

Joshua exhaled through his nose. “Maybe she’s asleep?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “She always leaves her phone on, even if she’s mad. If she’s not answering, it means she either doesn’t want to be found or—” He stops himself, lips pressing into a thin line. Seungcheol didn’t need him to finish the sentence. His hands curled into fists.

“Where would she go?” he asked, voice tight.

Jeonghan exchanged a look with Mingyu, who had come over after noticing their conversation.

Mingyu sighed. “There’s a place. She used to go there when she needed to clear her head.”

Seungcheol didn’t waste time asking more. “Where?”

Mingyu hesitated, just for a second. Then, seeing the way Seungcheol was barely holding himself together, he pulled out his phone and sent the location.

“Don’t mess this up,” Mingyu muttered.

Seungcheol was already heading for the door. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he got there, but an old bookstore tucked into a quiet street wasn’t it. The lights inside were dim and warm, casting a soft glow through the large windows. He pushed the door open, the bell above jingling softly. 

An old woman, sitting behind the counter, looked up. She peered at him through her glasses, eyes sharp despite her gentle smile.

“You must be the one,” she said simply.

Seungcheol blinked. “Excuse me?”

The old woman hummed, nodding toward the back. “She’s here. Been here all day.”

He followed her gaze and, sure enough, there you were—curled up in one of the armchairs near the back, a book resting on your lap, though you weren’t reading it. Instead, you were staring out the window, lost in thought.

You felt his presence before you saw him. Maybe it was the way the air shifted, or maybe you had been waiting for him all along, but when he stopped in front of you, you weren’t surprised.

“You’re a hard person to find,” he said quietly.

You closed the book in your lap, fingers tracing the edges of the cover. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be found.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell anyone where you were?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like talking.”

Seungcheol crouched down so he was eye level with you. “Are you okay?”

You looked at him then, really looked at him. His eyes were searching, his face unreadable. And for some reason, that made something in your chest tighten.

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

He exhaled softly. “Can I sit?”

You didn’t answer, but you moved your legs so there was space on the other armchair beside you. He took the silent invitation, settling in.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The quiet hum of the bookstore surrounded you.

Finally, Seungcheol broke the silence. “Why did you run?”

You frowned. “I didn’t run.”

He gave you a look. “You disappeared. No one could reach you. That’s running.”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the chair. “I just needed time.”

“To do what?”

“To think,” you muttered.

Seungcheol tilted his head, watching you closely. “And?”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the book. “And I don’t know what to do with you.”

He let out a small chuckle. “I get that a lot.”

“I’m serious.”

His expression softened. “So am I.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. “I don’t know how to do this, Seungcheol. I don’t know how to trust that this won’t end up like before.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, he said, “I’m not whoever hurt you.”

You swallowed. “I know that.”

“Do you?” His voice was gentle, but firm. “Because it seems like you’re punishing me for something I didn’t do.”

Your chest ached. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” he said. “But I need you to at least give me a chance.” You stared at him, searching for any hint of dishonesty. But all you found was sincerity.

The lump in your throat grew. “And if I can’t?”

“Then I’ll wait.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling shakily. “You make it sound so easy.”

He smiled, though there was something sad in it. “It’s not. But I think you’re worth it.”

Your heart stumbled over itself. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to say.

The old lady approached with slow, deliberate steps, her sharp gaze flicking between you and Seungcheol. She had seen you come in and out of this bookstore too many times, always with a heavy heart.

“So,” she said, arms crossing over her chest. “Is this the boy that’s been making you cry?”

You inhaled deeply, forcing a small smile as you shook your head. “All of them do.”

She clicked her tongue, giving Seungcheol a pointed look before patting your shoulder. “Men,” she muttered before walking off, leaving the two of you in tense silence. Seungcheol didn’t speak for a long moment. You knew he was looking at you, but you refused to meet his eyes.

Then, finally, in a quiet voice, he asked, “Did I really make you cry?”

You swallowed, keeping your gaze on the book in your lap. “Why do you care?”

His jaw tensed. “Because I didn’t want to.”

A bitter chuckle slipped out. “That’s funny,” you said, glancing at him now. “Because I remember you saying that I don’t care.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I was angry.”

You nodded slowly, lips pressing together. “So what do you want from me?”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

You turned fully toward him now, frustration bubbling up again. “What do you want, Seungcheol? You say you’ll wait, but for what? You keep coming back even when I push you away. What are you waiting for?”

He stared at you, something flickering behind his eyes. “You.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “You don’t even know me.”

“Yes, I do,” he shot back. “I know you act like you don’t care because you’re afraid. I know you run before anyone gets the chance to hurt you. And I know you like me.”

Your breath hitched.

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower. “That’s why you’re trying so hard to convince yourself that I’ll leave.”

You clenched your jaw. “You will.”

Seungcheol exhaled, shaking his head. “I won’t.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but before you could, another voice interrupted.

“There you are.” You both turned to see Jeonghan standing by the entrance of the bookstore, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. “I was looking for you.”

Jeonghan’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go.”

You hesitated, glancing at Seungcheol, whose jaw was now clenched.

Jeonghan sighed, looking between the two of you. “You need space,” he said simply. Then, to Seungcheol, he added, “Give it to her.” Seungcheol didn’t respond immediately. His gaze stayed locked on you, searching, waiting but you didn’t say anything.

Finally, he exhaled and stood. “I’ll wait.”

You hated that those words made your chest tighten. Without another glance, you followed Jeonghan out of the bookstore, leaving Seungcheol behind.

The moment you stepped out of the bookstore, Jeonghan let out a heavy sigh.

“Don’t,” you muttered, already knowing what was coming.

“I didn’t say anything yet,” he shot back, but the look he gave you was enough.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. ���Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Oh, don’t thank me,” he said, crossing his arms. “Because now I am going to lecture you.”

You groaned. “Jeonghan—”

“No, listen to me.” His tone was sharper than usual, firm in a way that made you stop walking. “You keep doing this thing where you push people away the second they get too close. And I get it, I do. You don’t want to get hurt. But you are the one hurting yourself.”

Your breath caught, but you said nothing.

Jeonghan huffed. “You like him,” he stated, like it was a fact. “And I know you like him because you’re acting like this.”

You scoffed. “That makes no sense.”

He gave you a pointed look. “It does when it’s you.”

You exhaled slowly, looking away. “He’ll leave.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” Jeonghan challenged. “Are you really going to throw this away just because you think he might leave?”

You pressed your lips together. “You don’t understand.”

Jeonghan let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, I do. Because I’ve watched you do this over and over again. And I didn’t say anything before because, honestly? Most of those guys weren’t worth it.”

You frowned. “And you think he is?”

Jeonghan tilted his head. “Don’t you? Look, if you really don’t want him, then fine. Walk away. But if you do want him—even just a little—then stop making it so hard for yourself.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly tight.

Jeonghan softened, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Just think about it, alright?”

You didn’t respond. You weren’t sure if you could so you just nodded, and Jeonghan let it go. For now.

Come morning the next day. Seungcheol sat across from Jeonghan, arms crossed as he studied him. He had been skeptical from the start—why Jeonghan always knew exactly what to say to you, why you let him in when you pushed everyone else away.

“You know a lot about her,” Seungcheol said, voice laced with suspicion. “More than just a friend would.”

Jeonghan smirked, stirring his coffee lazily. “That’s because we’re not just friends.”

Seungcheol’s grip on his cup tightened slightly. He wasn’t sure why that statement irritated him so much, but it did. “Then what are you?”

Jeonghan glanced up at him, watching his reaction carefully before finally saying it.

“She’s my stepsister.”

“What?”

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, sighing like this conversation was long overdue. “Her dad left when she was a kid. It was ugly—messed her up. My dad married her mom when we were in our teens, and suddenly, we were family.”

It made sense now. Why you and Jeonghan were inseparable, why he always seemed to understand you in a way no one else did.

“She doesn’t talk about it,” Jeonghan continued, voice quieter now. “Not to anyone. She pretends it doesn’t affect her, but it does. It’s why she is the way she is. Why she pushes people away before they get too close.”

Seungcheol exhaled, leaning back in his seat. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

Jeonghan met his gaze, all traces of amusement gone. “Because if you’re serious about her, you need to know what you’re up against.”

Now, he understood just how much he had to fight for you. Seungcheol stayed quiet, his mind replaying every interaction he’d had with you. The push and pull, the way you shut him out just when he thought he was getting close. Now, it all made sense.

Jeonghan sighed, watching him carefully before speaking again.

“It’s hard to love her less once you get to know her more.”

Seungcheol’s gaze snapped up, meeting Jeonghan’s knowing eyes.

“That’s why she keeps people at arm’s length,” Jeonghan continued. “Because she knows it too. She’s terrified of people staying just long enough to leave.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply. “And you think I’m just like everyone else?”

Jeonghan smirked, but there was something softer behind it. “I think you’re different. That’s why she’s this scared.”

Seungcheol didn’t sleep much that night.

Jeonghan’s words stayed with him, looping in his mind until he couldn’t ignore them anymore. You weren’t just pushing him away because you wanted to—you were pushing him away because you were scared. Because you expected him to leave.

And if there was one thing Seungcheol hated, it was being predictable.

The next day, he found himself outside your office again, leaning against his car with his arms crossed. He knew your schedule well enough by now, and when he saw you stepping out, he straightened.

You stopped in your tracks the moment you saw him. 

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was flat, but Seungcheol could hear the exhaustion underneath it.

He pushed himself off the car, hands slipping into his pockets. “I needed to see you.”

You exhaled through your nose, already tired of this conversation. “Cheol—”

“No,” he interrupted gently. “This time, just listen.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you didn’t walk away. That was enough for him.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you. “You asked me what I wanted from you. I didn’t answer then, so I’ll answer now.” His voice was steady, unwavering. “I want you. I want every version of you—the one who glares at me, the one who shuts me out, the one who lets her guard down when she thinks no one’s looking.”

“And then what?”

Seungcheol tilted his head slightly. “Then I keep wanting you. Even when you push me away. Even when you tell yourself you don’t care.”

Your jaw tightened, your emotions warring against your better judgment. “I don’t need saving, Seungcheol.”

“I know,” he said easily. “You never did. But you do need someone who stays.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. Seungcheol could see the way your fingers twitched, 

So he softened, just enough. “Jeonghan told me.”

Your breath hitched, and for the first time, Seungcheol saw something other than defiance in your eyes. It was vulnerability, raw and unguarded.

“I don’t pity you,” he said before you could say anything. “I don’t think you’re broken. I just wish you’d let me in.”

You let out a breath, but it wasn’t exasperation this time. It sounded tired. Resigned. “I don’t know how,” you admitted.

Seungcheol gave you a small smile, tilting his head toward his car. “Then let’s figure it out.”

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to convince yourself this was a bad idea. That you should walk away like you always did.

But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t.

Instead, you exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

Seungcheol grinned. “And yet, here you are.”

He opened the car door for you, waiting. And after another beat, you got in.

As Seungcheol got into the driver’s seat, you folded your arms and eyed him suspiciously.

“So?” you prompted.

He glanced at you. “So, what?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What exactly did Jeonghan tell you?”

Seungcheol tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, as if debating how much to say. “Enough.”

You scoffed. “Right. That’s not vague at all.” He smirked but didn’t answer immediately, which only irritated you more.

You shifted in your seat, arms tightening around yourself. “He probably just told you my sob story to make you feel bad.”

He exhaled. “Yeah, he told me about your parents, about how things weren’t easy. But he didn’t say it so I’d pity you.” His voice softened. “He said it so I’d understand you.”

You stared at him, lips parting slightly before you shut them again.

“Jeonghan’s known you for years,” Seungcheol continued. “And he made it pretty damn clear that if I wanted to keep you in my life, I had to stop being an idiot and actually see you.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “And what do you see?”

Seungcheol’s gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. “Someone who pretends not to care because it’s safer. Someone who pushes people away before they get the chance to leave.”

“But also,” he went on, “someone who cares way more than she lets on. Someone who makes it impossible for people to love her less once they’ve gotten to know her.”

Your head snapped back to him. That was Jeonghan’s exact wording.

Seungcheol’s lips twitched. “Yeah, he said that too.”

You huffed, leaning your head against the window. “He talks too much.”

Seungcheol chuckled, but then his voice dropped, quieter now. “Look, I’m not here because of what Jeonghan told me. I’m here because I don’t want to be just another person you expect to leave.”

You didn’t answer right away. Because you didn’t know how. Instead, you just muttered, “You’re annoying,” under your breath.

Seungcheol smirked. “You’ve mentioned.”

The ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. He didn’t push you to say anything more, and you weren’t ready to give him any more than you already had.

When he pulled up in front of your building, he put the car in park and turned to you. “So what now?”

You shrugged, gripping the door handle. “I don’t know.”

Seungcheol leaned back against his seat, watching you carefully. “Are you gonna keep avoiding me?”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the handle. “…No.”

That seemed to amuse him. “That didn’t sound very convincing.”

You sighed, turning to face him properly. “I don’t know how to do this, Seungcheol.”

His expression softened. “Then let’s figure it out together.”

You stared at him, searching for something—any sign that this was some kind of game. But all you found was patience, quiet and unwavering.

You exhaled and looked away. “I should go.”

He nodded, but before you could push the door open, he spoke again. “You never answered my question.”

You frowned. “What question?”

Seungcheol tilted his head, as if debating whether to repeat himself. Then, in a voice much softer than before, he said, “What do you want?”

Your breath hitched because wasn’t that the question you’d been running from this whole time?

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your heart hammering in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol studied you for a long moment, then simply nodded. “Okay.”

You blinked. “Okay?”

He smiled slightly. “Okay. You don’t have to know yet.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “That easy, huh?”

His smile grew. “Not everything has to be a fight, you know.”

“Tell that to my brain.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “I’ll work on it.”

You bit your lip, stealing one last glance at him before finally opening the door. “Good night, Seungcheol.”

“Good night,” he said.

PART TWO COMING SOON

[se4ttlellie]

BOYFRIEND - VI

Warnings : Cheating, smut, fingering (user receiving), swearing, party, wlw relationship, use of pet names, use of y/n, kinda au, alcohol use, dirty talk, mirror sex, exhibition?

Summary : In which, the reads boyfriend is being a dick and Vi helps her out

Authors Note : I truly promise that I don’t have anything with cheating bc it really seems like it rn 😭 but I was literally listening to “Boyfriend” by Dove Cameron and I was like “yup let’s write a fucking fanfic about this” so here you are. I’m really sorry if this has been done before, it probably has but I’ve never seen it so, here’s my rendition. Enjoy! <3

Reader is purple

Vi is pink

Song lyrics is italics

__________________________________________

Your boyfriend was being a real dick recently, spending no time on you, forgetting your anniversary, getting angry all the time and it’s just getting on your fucking nerves. So, who do you go to?

Vi.

You lay with your head on her lap as she strokes your hair. You are just ranting about your boyfriend, probably talking her ear off but she truly doesn’t mind.

“He’s such a dick! Like, why can’t he put the fucking PS5 down for like a minute and pretend like he has an actual girlfriend right fucking here! Ugh!”

Vi can tell that you’re really worked up but she doesn’t really know how to help. Tonight was supposed to be a fun night, you were supposed to go out and have fun but, once again, your boyfriend killed the mood.

“Come on, let’s forget about him, go to the bar and just have fucking fun, y/n. Don’t let him ruin a good night with your best mate.”

Slowly, you nod, sitting up and running your fingers through your hair. You let out a deep sigh, standing up and grabbing your bag.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s get dressed and we can go.”

“Alright. No need to apologise, love.”

She gently hugs you from behind as a little bit of reassurance, resting her chin on her shoulder and rubbing your stomach. You notice that she is a little more touchy than usual but you don’t really read into it too much.

You get dressed, slipping on the perfect, sexy red dress and pairing it with your one pair of expensive shoes, your Louboutins that you bought yourself a while ago and never wore because you were too scared to scuff them.

Vi walks out of the bathroom in a much more chill outfit and scans you up and down. She whistles, making you laugh and hit her arm, causing her to pull her arm back and laugh too.

“You look hot.”

“I know, thank you. Don’t look too bad yourself.”

Vi, as per, is in a more masculine fit, sporting a pair of black trousers and a button up, white t-shirt with a few of the buttons undone and her sleeves rolled up. The rolled sleeves shows off her muscular, tatted arms perfectly.

She gracefully takes your arm, linking it with her on before grabbing your bag for you and leading you out of the door once you’re all ready.

You arrive at the bar, annoyed at the long line of people. I mean, you’d have to assume considering it’s a Friday night but it’s still annoying.

Turning around to Vi, you rest your head on her chest and she kisses your head, stroking your hair. She looks down at you, her arm wrapped around your shoulder and she leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Are you okay, cupcake?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just still a little bummed about Alfie.”

She nods, understandingly before noticing that the line is finally moving and you’re closer to the front. She gently squeezes your hip to alert you to move forward.

You finally make it into the club after getting past the annoyingly flirty bouncer and the queue that seemed to last forever.

Once inside, you immediately go for the bar, needing some drinks. You order your favourite drink, feeling someone behind you. You look behind and see Vi, holding her card.

“Vi, I can pay for my drink.”

“I know you can but so can I.”

You roll your eyes before quietly thanking her and taking the drink from the bartender. You take a sip, feeling the familiar burning sensation as the liquid flows down your throat. Fuck this is strong.

After a few drinks and seeing a few pretty girls (and paying for a couple drinks) you and Vi head to the dance floor, dancing and singing to whatever song comes on.

As the song switches, you instantly recognise the song as “Boyfriend” by Dove Cameron and smirk. You feel Vi’s arms around your waist and you smile, letting her hold you and seductively sway with you.

“You reckon we got a lesbian DJ?”

She laughs, nodding because of the particular song choice. You’re both dancing with each other, singing the song when she spins you around, backing your body into hers. She presses you against her chest, her arm still firmly around your middle as the chorus approaches.

You blush, a little surprised by Vi’s boldness and, more importantly, hand placement as her arm is wrapped snugly around your middle. You place your hand on her arm, rubbing up on her a little.

As the chorus plays, you feel Vi’s hot breath on your neck, whispering the lyrics into your ear, causing you to tense up.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him. I could do the shit that he never did.”

You swallow hard, involuntarily tilting your head to the side as you feel your best friend’s lips press to your neck. You reach your hand back, grasping her hair as she kisses up and down your neck and shoulders.

You can kind of smell the alcohol on her breath and you know that she is a little drunk but you know that she is sober enough to know exactly what she’s doing and, more to the point, what it’s doing to you.

As Vi kisses your neck, you stand there, confused. You know that you’re enjoying this but you also know that you have a boyfriend back at home. As if Vi knows exactly what you’re thinking, she whispers in your ear.

“Don’t think about him, baby. You know you like this because, if you didn’t, you’d have told me to stop already.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Vi.”

You spin around, abruptly pressing your lips to hers, your arms wrapping around her neck as hers link around your waist. She presses into you, pulling you ever closer as her tongue slides into your mouth.

You let out an involuntary moan, causing Vi to smile against your lips. You already know what she is thinking but you kiss her again before she can make a comment.

Her hands sneakily slide down to your ass as you continue kissing, your chests pressing against each other. Slowly, her hands move closer and closer to your thighs, gripping them softly.

“Make it any more obvious you wanna finger me, Vi.”

She laughs, picking you up and carrying you off the dance floor. You kick and flail a little until you realise where she is taking you. She takes you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the sink and closing the door.

You continue to make out, now able to hear each other’s breathy moans and deep breaths as you get lost in each other’s touch.

Suddenly, she reaches down and lifts up your dress, grabbing your panties and looking up at you before pulling them down. You give her a simple nod, as you know that she was waiting for consent.

“Words, princess. I’m not gonna do this unless I know you want it.”

“Yes I fucking want it Vi! Please.”

She smirks at your begging, kissing your chest. Pulling off your panties, she wastes no time in gently rubbing circles on your clit, making you let out a loud moan. You grab onto her shoulders, throwing your head back.

Slowly, she slides a finger into you and then two. She kisses your neck as she starts to pump her fingers in and out of your hole. She smirks, sucking on your neck as she murmurs something.

“You’re already dripping. How long have you been thinking about me touching you like this, y/n?”

You can’t tell if her question is rhetorical or not but, hopefully it is because you couldn’t answer anyway, due to the amount of pleasure you’re currently receiving. You wrap your arm around Vi’s shoulders, pulling her in for another kiss.

You moan against her lips, feeling her fingers thrusting in and out of you faster now. You try your best to keep kissing her but you’re losing your breath so your head just falls forward onto her shoulder.

“Fuck, Vi. Yes, fuck, right there.”

You let out a really loud moan as she hits your g-spot perfectly, her fingers curling to get just the right spot. A small whimper leaves your mouth, causing Vi to speed up even more.

Your thighs start to shake against her fingers and you know that you’re close. She kisses your temple as your head rests against her shoulder.

“Look in the mirror baby, I want you to see how good you look when I touch you like this.”

You obediently nod, looking in the mirror and seeing your fucked out face and messed up hair. You keep your eyes on your reflection as you finish all over Vi’s fingers.

She softly continues to thrust into you, riding out your high as you now look away from the mirror and into her eyes. Your eyes are lidded and exhausted and she has a wicked smirk on her face.

Pulling her fingers out of you, she immediately puts them in her mouth to lick off your cum. You don’t know if you’re turned on or not but you certainly know that you can’t do a round two.

“Fuck, Vi.”

“Feel good princess?”

“Mhm.”

Vi laughs, pulling you into her arms and stroking her hair as she sees how exhausted you are. She kisses your head again, rubbing you back.

“Should we get you home, baby? Maybe we can have a bit more fun there.”

“Okay…”

__________________________________________

Taglist : @belliexpog @elliesanqel @ellieslvvt @bloodywilliams @xx2849 @sofaiscomfy @ashlynlovestlou

[elliesgffr]

Nerd Ellie being fucking clueless Guys pls be nice this is my firs post (and it's not proofread btw)

She was so distracted, living in her own world where apparently no one else could enter. She spent her free hours drawing in an old brown leather diary that looked worn, but you assumed it held some sentimental value for her. She was strange, a loser like those who appeared in the films you used to watch, a nerd whom no one looked at, but she intrigued you, you wanted to see the true colour of her eyes, how she would look without those glasses. You were also a bit curious about the story behind the tattoo on her arm—did she think it made her look tough?

She shot her diary abruptly before looking up, you two were the only ones in the university courtyard and there was plenty of space to sit, so why near her?

“What are you drawing?” you asked. She raised an eyebrow momentarily before reopening her diary, avoiding your gaze and continuing with what she was doing—drawing and ignoring your presence. You could see she was sketching some strange looking insect, but she made it look beautiful.

"A panda ant," she murmured boredly. You sat beside her and took a closer look at the drawing, the large, black eyes of the creature you'd never heard of.

"It looks like a spider."

"It's a wasp," she emphasised, shaking her head slightly and continuing with her work. You mumbled a small "right" while nodding awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

"What else have you drawn?" you asked curiously. Ellie didn't need to be too clever to know you wouldn't let her finish her drawing; she'd seen you – you talked too much, you never shut up – so she decided to give in and handed you her diary, beginning a friendship she wasn't sure she wanted in the first place.

After that, you never left her alone, you used to drag her to parties she hated, and in return, she made you study for your exams and talked to you for hours about space stuff. It was fun, like when she tried to explain how a spaceship worked and you pretended not to understand just to keep listening to her. Her intelligence was her greatest appeal, and you wondered how she didn’t have the entire university chasing after her.

You were a little bit in love with her, but she acted as if you were a pain in her backside, so you discouraged yourself when you thought about telling her; it wouldn’t make any sense, you thought. However, the idea of not having her close to you at all times was horrible; her presence was addictive, and as a way to torture her, you would drag her out of her room tonight and take her to her least favourite place.

5:06pm. 

“Is Hallie’s tonight??” 

“No. I have to study.” 

“Please???? Just for a bit and we’ll leave, I swear.” 

“Liar.” 

You smiled as you read the message, you could almost hear her voice saying it; it was incredible how well she knew you in such a short time. You kept smiling like an idiot when your phone vibrated again in your lap. 

“Fine, but I’ll be late.” 

“Omg I love you, I knew you’d make the right decision, see you there xx.”

☆☆☆☆

The noise in the bar was deafening; there was a new band performing, and it was the only thing you could hear in the cramped space as you moved through the bustle of people searching for Ellie. You took out your phone to text her, but then you spotted her. You had to navigate through a sea of people before you could reach her, but at least she was in your line of sight. She looked bored. 

“Sorry I'm late.” 

“I was supposed to be late.” 

“I know, I'm sorry,” you murmured, moving closer to order a whisky from the bartender before turning back to her with the drink in hand. “There was a lot of traffic, and the taxi was going too slowly.” You leaned in too close for her to hear you, and her gaze instinctively dropped, her right hand nervously playing with her ring and little fingers as she nodded. 

“Fine” She replied flatly, and you rolled your eyes. You knew she hated accompanying you anywhere, but she didn’t have to make it so obvious.

“Come on, let’s dance.” You pulled her onto the dance floor amidst her protests, placing your hand on hers to guide her to your waist. She was clumsy, struggling to keep up with the rhythm, and laughed, shaking her head shyly when she realised she couldn’t.

“You always end up getting your way with me. I’ve got an exam tomorrow,” she protested in your ear, hands now gripping your waist firmly. You pulled closer, eager to take whatever she gave you, even if it wasn’t intentional.

“You need to relax. You’ve been so stressed this week, you shouldn’t even have classes on a Saturday,” you said over the music, your lips so close you could feel the warmth of her skin. You wanted to bite her earlobe, leave a mark to remind her of you, but you settled for having your arms wrapped around her neck.

“All this noise isn’t helping my stress,” she said, and you narrowed your eyes at her.

“I relieve your stress.” Her cheeks flushed crimson but she held your gaze, a burning intensity in your eyes, and it was in moments like these that she wasn’t sure what you meant, or if you meant it at all. She wanted to ask how, to say something, but instead she did the same thing as always.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” She said before hurrying away to somewhere that didn’t smell of you, staring at herself in the mirror and feeling like an idiot for letting you get to her so quickly.

You sat waiting for her, praying no drunk would bother you as you sipped your whisky, watching the band play; the bassist kept glancing at a girl in the crowd, giving her a flirtatious wink and even you blushed.

A lot of time went on, and you started wondering what on earth Ellie was doing in the bathroom, so you went to look for her. To your surprise, she was with a girl from university near the dance floor, hands clasped as they tried to communicate.  She was Ellie's only friend besides you, and the lively way she was talking to this girl made you feel both guilty and angry. You always had to force her to make plans with you, and she treated you as if talking to you was a chore she wasn't looking forward to.

You desperately wanted to confront her, but what could you say?  All desire to be with her vanished, and without much thought, you left the crowded place, walking a couple of blocks until you found a taxi. The journey back to the halls felt endless, and all you could think about was how angry she would be, but honestly, you didn't care.

☆☆☆☆

"You left me." Ellie snapped as she made her way through your room, knowing about the key hidden in the flowerpot, and right now you wished you had taken it out of there. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wanted to leave and I saw you with your friend, I didn't want to ruin the moment." You murmured half-heartedly, fiddling with your old tablet and not even glancing at her, which made her scoff slightly, looking at you in disbelief. 

"I was there for you and you left me." 

"And I'm telling you that you shouldn't do it anymore." 

She looked at you, confused, before rolling her eyes, snatching the tablet from your hands so that you would pay attention to her, but your gaze drifted elsewhere; you felt stupid, like a five-year-old. 

"You’re sick of me dragging you to places you don’t want to go, and I’m sick of feeling like I’m forcing you to interact with me." 

"Is this about Allison?" 

"No." 

"Oh my God, are you ten?" She spoke in frustration, raising her voice without realising, she was tired of having to explain herself to you, and for what? In the end, it was the same, being the same. Friends, less than that, she didn’t know. "I ran into her and wanted to say hello, we talked for less than ten minutes and you throw a tantrum over it, what the hell is wrong with you?"

“It’s not that, Ellie.” You said it as if it were obvious, and felt the heat rise to your cheeks, which only made you angrier, the words tumbling out rapidly, before you could think. “I always have to be chasing you, for everything – outings, even studying, which you know I hate, and-and you always act like I’m just another chore on your to-do list, but you were holding her hand and smiling at her—” You paused to take a breath, narrowing your eyes. “You know what? There’s no point telling you anything, it’s not going to get through that thick skull of yours.” And you were about to leave your room, just to escape the argument, but arms snaked around your waist, pulling you back inside, her hand finding its way up your back to tug at your hair, green eyes fixed on yours.

“What the hell do you want from me?” she murmured desperately before pressing her lips to yours, hands gripping your hips firmly, and you were in shock, kissing her back and moaning as her tongue pushed into your mouth, but still in shock.

You felt intoxicated without actually being so, everything spun each time you felt your bottom lip being tugged in a nibble; your arms wrapped around her neck and you pulled her closer, kissing her with a hunger you’d never felt for anyone. Finally…

“You always do this to me.” She continued, whispering close to your lips, gasping for air but unable to pull away.

Your heart raced, pulse thundering in your ears as you tried to make sense of her words, but she pulled you back into a kiss, not giving you time to process anything. You gladly kissed her back, but your hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her down to her knees; she complied without protest, desperately lifting your dress and tugging at your underwear, burying her face between your thighs and moaning pathetically as she tasted you, her tongue moving languidly, lips closing around your clit, sucking gently and making you see stars. You brought your hand behind her head, tugging at her hair, pushing her deeper into the place she never wanted to leave.

You didn’t even try to stifle your moans as she worked her magic on you, pleasure sparking as the pressure in your belly tightened, but you didn’t want it to end like this.

“Come here, come.” You whimpered, pulling her once more by the collar of her shirt, devouring her lips as you both tried to reach the bed without falling. You straddled her, skilled hands unbuttoning her trousers and you slipped your hand inside, feeling the warmth of her skin, your gaze burning into hers as your fingers worked on her swollen clit, she spread her legs wider, looking at you with tired eyes, her arms wrapping around your waist.

"I need to fuck you." She whined breathlessly, as if the thought of not being able to do so pained her.

You fumbled for the bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a double-ended dildo that made her eyes widen, but her need overpowered her, and she snatched it from your hands, slowly inserting it inside herself, letting out a stuttered moan. You made her lie down, positioning yourself on top of her, and without thinking, you lowered your hips onto the toy. Ellie couldn't stop writhing, trying to please both you and herself, her hands urging you to ride her as if your life depended on it. You bounced on her lap with so roughly that the sound was obscene, but you loved it.

"I hate seeing you talk to other people." You spoke breathlessly, your hand tightening around her throat, but not enough to choke her.

"I'm yours." She breathed out, inhaling sharply, trying to get some air into her lungs. Her hips pushed against yours in an animalistic manner, her now darkened eyes staring intently at you, and her hoarse moans made you melt. You couldn't hold back any longer, and the pressure, the pool of heat in your belly burst, turning the bed into a mess. Ellie followed you, her climax just as intense as her need for you, her arms wrapping around your waist as she thrust her hips erratically until she calmed down, both of you gasping for air, bewildered by what had just happened.

To be honest, Ellie had imagined this scenario thousands of times, but… how would you look at each other after this?

[joostsblog]

i loved to be desired sm omg. Could i request a joost x reader where reader is partying with joost and friends. they meet ski aggu and are chilling and they tell ski that they are super into joost but joost isnt into them and they are sad about it. The ski aggu makes it his mission to make joost jealous to get them together and there is a lil angst but reader and joost end up together and making out.

loved writing this request!! i love shy!joost in this, hope you enjoy!!❣️❣️

is this as good as it gets? ~ joost klein one shot

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x female!reader (also Ski Aggu x reader if you squint ig)

Description: When you almost lose all your hope getting with Joost, Aggu proposes an interesting idea to get the two of you together.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: title and also vibe inspired by as good as it gets by fizz so i highly rec giving that song a listen! again, you can still send in requests 💌

Warnings: consumption of alcohol and cigarettes, not proofread

You should write Mel a thank you note, really. For one because she always lets you crash at her place whenever you visit Berlin (which happens to be very frequently, actually) but also for tagging along to her party nights with her Berlin friends which also include the famous German rapper Ski Aggu and his dutch friend Joost who you couldn't seem to keep your eyes from. Ever since you first met last time you were in Berlin (which was only three weeks ago) you were crushing on the man - hard. And suddenly you were pretending you knew more about music than you actually did just so you could try to hold a conversation with Joost. And you stepped out one time too many to smoke a cigarette with him when you usually smoked maybe two cigarettes within one year. And overthinking whatever you should wear to go out with Mel and all her friends without even knowing if Joost was gonna be there that evening as well.

And when you decided to visit Mel again just three weeks after having been the last time ("Already?"), maybe Joost was a deciding factor as well. You didn't even know if he was gonna be in Berlin around the same time as well but you were in luck when you and Mel walked into the bar and you could see Joost's figure sitting beside Aggu. You tried to play it cool as you greeted everyone and finally got to Joost.

"So nice to see you again," you said earnestly as you both hugged.

"Likewise," Joost said and gently rubbed your back. You hoped that he wasn't just being polite and actually remembered you.

You were also in luck when there was a free spot beside Joost which you could take as you tried to casually open a conversation with him, talking about whatever the two of you had been up to in the last few weeks. You talked about his hometown, your hometown, why you were visiting Berlin so often and how you were thinking of moving here. You could tell that Joost was taking interest in the conversation and by extension you, but it wasn't enough for you. You knew that you wanted Joost in other ways and you wondered how and if you could persuade him of you.

"I'm getting a new drink," you announced. "Does anybody want anything?" you asked and hoped Joost would say something or offer to come with you to the bar.

"Actually, I'll go with you," Ski Aggu offered instead.

"Alright," you smiled and you two headed off to the bar.

The bar was incredibly crowded and you could already tell that you would have to wait a while until the bartender would get around to take your orders. You leaned against the counter.

"So, does Joost visit here often?" you asked and immediately regretted it as it came out way too obsessively as you had intended to. Aggu laughed.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked amused.

"I don't know, just because I don't live here as well," you tried to casually explain.

"Yeah, well, he's working on new music currently, so he comes here a lot," Aggu said and paused as he seemed to contemplate for a moment. "Joost is cute, right?" he tested you. Blood rushed to your head.

"I suppose," you shrugged nonchalantly.

"Nah, come on, he's very cute, we can agree on that," Aggu pushed jokingly.

"I imagine most girls would agree," you said.

"Maybe, but I'm talking about you," Aggu said and poked your shoulder as he said the last word. "Do you think he's cute?" he asked again. "Or sexy or dreamy or whatever?"

"Yeah, I think Joost is very cute," you blushed. "Is it obvious?" you asked.

"Well, I think Mel mentioned how you're not a smoker when we first met and suddenly Joost is here and all of a sudden you're out with him for a smoke every hour or so," he teased and you hid your face behind your hands in embarrassment.

"Oh god," you groaned.

"Nah, come on, it doesn't matter," Aggu said. "Nothing to be embarrassed about," he insisted and removed your hands from in front of your face.

"Yeah, but Joost definitely doesn't like me," you explained with a saddened expression on your face. Aggu raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know that?" he inquired.

"I don't know, I just feel like he's deliberately treating me like a friend, you know, in a very platonic way only," you tried to explain. "Like he's very persistent about me just being a friend - if that," you said. Aggu looked sceptical.

"Listen, I don't know if Joost likes you back but I do know that he's a little awkward about flirting and expressing his feelings and whatever," he said. "He might need a little help to push him along," Aggu said with a knowing smile. You looked at him with a confused expression on your face. "You can say no to this if you want, but I have an idea for us," Aggu said and you nodded, indicating for him to keep going. "What if we both do a little thing to make Joost jealous?" Aggu proposed and your heart started racing.

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"Let's just try for tonight to spend a lot of time together, laughing a lot, sitting very close to each other, touching, flirting and just rubbing it in Joost's face that you're having a great time with me?" Aggu explained. "In fact, I saw Joost looking over at us standing here a few times already," Aggu pointed out and you looked over to the table where all your friends were sitting and as your gaze crossed Joost's eyes he immediately averted the gaze and looked in another direction. "We've got nothing to lose, either way the outcome, we'll just have a fun evening together," Aggu concluded.

You contemplated Aggu's idea for a second before you decided that he was right - you had nothing to lose. Aggu obviously was a nice and handsome guy so you wouldn't mind having a fun evening with him as well.

"Alright, it's a deal," you said with a smile and extended your hand before Aggu took it for a handshake.

"Alright, let's start with me buying you a drink," Aggu grinned and moved to stand closer to you. You casually rested your hand on Aggus bicep as you kept talking until the bartender finally took both of your orders.

"Is this okay?" Aggu asked as his arm wrapped around your waist to hold you.

"Yes," you said and you wondered whether Joost could see you right now, what he would feel at the sight of you two being so close to one another. "Thanks for the drink," you said and cheered your cup to Aggu's after you got your drinks.

"Scoot over," Aggu directed Joost as you got back to your table. You could read a confused expression on Joost's face for just a second before he darted his eyes back and forth between you and Aggu quickly. As Joost moved over from his spot Aggu could now sit beside him and you could take your seat beside Aggu.

As you were talking with Aggu you made an effort to seem careless and laugh at every joke he made, softly grazing his arm if the chance occurred or bite your lips as you watched his face. It took everything in you to look to the left of Aggu to check on Joost. You were so desperate to see whether he was fazed by your spiel. But you knew you needed to ignore him for the time being. Aggu took the biggest leap so far when he casually wrapped his arm around your shoulders to bring you closer to him as you giggled.

"Alright, I'm going for a smoke," Joost announced almost immediately after. Aggu's arm dropped from your shoulder as you both had to move over to let Joost out of the booth. After Joost got out he stood there for a moment looking down at you with a blank expression. Did he wait for you to join him for a cigarette as you always had in the past? Surely not, you thought before Joost turned around to get outside alone.

~

Joost leaned against the wall outside as his cigarette was slowly nearing its end. Usually, you would be leaning against the wall beside him as well and he would intently listen to whatever story you were telling him, always grateful that you were so good at making conversation. If it weren't for that fact you might as well would have never talked to each other. And although Joost tended to be a little quieter around you, he was hanging onto every word you said. The truth is, Joost was a little shy around you because you mattered to him. Because he liked you, he was way too afraid to mess something up. So he stood back instead.

But now he was cursing himself for doing so. Because apparently now you had enough of him and instead you were attached at the hip with Aggu. And the situation was made worse by the fact that Aggu was Joost's friend. He was annoyed at Aggu for snatching you away from him but he knew he shouldn't feel angry and instead be happy for his friend.

Joost flicked his cigarette to the ground and stumped it out before he decided to get back inside. As he looked over to the table where you and your friends sat he caught your gaze. You were sitting on Aggu's lap, your arm wrapped around his shoulders. Joost stood still, the sight really making him not want to sit back down beside you. Aggu leaned into you and whispered something into your ear as you were still looking over at Joost who couldn't hide the sad expression on his face.

Joost felt uncomfortable and looked down at his phone before he decided to step out again instead of sitting back down at the table. Time for another cigarette or just maybe go back home already. As Joost lit the cigarette in his hand, the door to the bar opened again and you stepped out into the cold.

"Hey," you said softly.

"Hey," Joost replied with a nod. "Want one?" he asked and held out his hand with his pack of cigarettes. Your arms were crossed in front of your body because of the temperature. You looked down at his offer before you declined.

"You know I usually don't smoke," you admitted.

"Really?" Joost asked with a raise of an eyebrow. "That's news to me," Joost said although it really shouldn't come as a surprise to him as he noticed that you never carried your own pack of cigarettes.  

"I know," you laughed. "Are you having a good evening?" you asked.

"Not really," Joost admitted honestly.

"How come?" you asked and Joost didn't answer. Instead, he just shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. You could feel an aura of sadness radiating from him and you suddenly felt really bad for the spiel you and Aggu had been doing tonight. Although you still didn't know how Joost felt about you, you wondered if you had somehow contributed to his bad mood tonight.

"How long are you staying in Berlin for?" Joost asked after he released a puff of smoke.

"Another two days," you said. "You?" you asked in return.

"'M leaving next week," Joost said. "You should come back soon," Joost tried nonchalantly, giving you a sign that he cared about you in some way.

"You think?" you said with a smile.

"Yeah, you're fun to have around," Joost said.

"Well, I'm sorry if I haven't been around you tonight a lot," you said earnestly.

"It's fine," Joost said. If he had the confidence of Aggu, Joost would only have to take one step forward to engulf you in a kiss. "Can't blame Aggu," he said and immediately realised the implication of his words. He looked up at you again and saw a smirk on your face.

"You know me and Aggu aren't actually-," you tried to explain. "We're just friends," you said and Joost could feel a blush creeping on his face.

"Oh?" Joost said.

"Yeah, I'm interested in someone else actually," you said.

"Oh," Joost stated.

"If only he would notice already," you said and looked Joost deeply in the eyes.

"Maybe he's too shy," Joost offered.

"He doesn't have to be," you said and stepped towards Joost. You reached out for his hand and took the cigarette before you put it to your mouth to take a drag. As you let it fall to the floor Joost slowly and carefully reached out his arm to your hip without actually laying his hand on there. You stepped just a little closer until his hand touched your hip and you were standing so close you had to look up to him. "He could just kiss me," you said and it wasn't long before Joost leaned down, his hand finding the back of your neck, and his lips attached to yours.

You approvingly hummed into the kiss. Joost's lips tasted of beer and smoke but it was a divine taste to you as your lips started moving against each other in sync. You rested your hands on Joost's chest where you could feel his calm breathing. Joost's hands tangled in your hair as your lips parted to taste each other on your tongue. Your head was spinning, heart racing as you finally got what you had been looking for since the night you first met Joost.

As you pulled back from the kiss Joost cupped your face and looked down at you with a sheepish grin on his face.

"We should've done this way sooner," he stated.

"That's what I've been saying!" you laughed before you leaned back in for another kiss.

[perseephoneee]

PLEASE do something super fluffy with kol mikealson

i love ur work sm!!

babe you're making my day. hope this is something akin to what you wanted.

"you're red." "shut up." "like actually vermillion." (kol mikaelson x f!reader)

warnings: kissing?? also hatred towards bed and breakfasts

a/n: i forgot how much i love writing for kol. sorry for the large writing break...hope this makes up for it?

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

You hate Kol Mikaelson. 

He’s cocky, impulsive, and constantly getting you into danger that you would never find for yourself. He also relentlessly flirts with you until you’re warm and deeply frustrated.  He’s complicated enough that you wish he wasn’t a part of your life so it could resume a sense of normalcy. 

Getting caught up in Mikaelson drama was never your plan. You just happened to make the mistake of working as a bartender at Russo’s—where they frequented. Klaus took a liking to you, and the rest is history. Being a human that’s friends with vampires is like poking a bear; not recommended nor convenient. 

This recent conflict was forgettable but proved to be a disruption to your life. One of them annoyed someone, and that someone wanted revenge, and now apparently you were in danger, and so on and so forth. You have repeatedly debated sending an invoice to the Mikaelson compound for restitution. You don’t think Klaus would find it very funny. 

You almost forgot about your life being in danger until you were forced to go on the run with the youngest brother, Kol. Kol, who insisted on driving you nuts. You kept trying to tune him out in the car, listening to the radio or focusing on the trees speeding past your window. Still, he was relentless and wouldn’t leave you alone for a minute. Plus, he was a horribly reckless driver, and you were gripping the door so tightly that you might hurt a muscle any minute. 

“I’ve lived for a very long time, but I’ve never visited Fes,” Kol said, one hand on the wheel as the other tapped on the door. You barely spared him a glance. “Would you visit Fes?”

“Not even sure what Fes is,” you answered through gritted teeth, suppressing a yelp as Kol took a turn obnoxiously fast. 

“City in Morocco considered its cultural capital.”

“You sound like a Google search,” you scoffed, sparing him half a glance. Long enough of a glance for Kol to give you a toothy grin, his canines glinting in the sunlight. 

“I like knowing things,” he states, squinting at you. “I don’t know much about you. Tell me something.”

“No.”

“Please?” he begged, every bit a kid enjoying picking on the new kid on the playground. You fixed him with a dead stare. 

“I hate your driving.” That caused him to laugh, which made him throw his head back and speed up even more. You clutched the handle and clenched your teeth till you felt your whole body would seize up. Kol eventually took pity on you and slowed down. It was enough for you to relax…slightly. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere. Anywhere. Haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Brilliant. I’m going to die out here,” you sighed, sinking deeper into the leather seat. 

“Nonsense. Nik would dagger me if I let that happen, and I’m very tired of being daggered.”

“Not because you care about me or want me to live?” you jested, quirking a brow at him. 

“Now, why would I care about you at all?”

You pretended it didn’t sting, even though it felt impossible for you to care about Kol. Still, hearing him say it felt a bit like a slap in the face. You just turned more out the window, ignoring him. You didn’t notice the sharp look he sent you, as if he regretted what he said. 

Instead, you notice a sign advertising a Black Bear Diner. You perk up immediately, tapping the window and looking back at Kol. 

“There. Stop there.”

“That piece of garbage?”

“Yes! Stop the car!” you shouted, regretting your words when Kol slammed on the brakes. “Stop the car slowly, you asswipe.”

“You should’ve clarified that,” he smirked. You jumped out of the car, ran towards the restaurant, and experienced euphoria when the smell of waffles and fresh coffee hit your senses. Kol walked up slowly, hands in his pockets. The sun was obnoxious out here, but there were enough trees in the area to not make it feel like a desert. You could even see the mountain in the background in all its snowcapped glory. 

The inside of the diner was a welcome breeze on your damp skin. It wasn’t very crowded, and you got seated immediately as you happily flipped through your plastic menu. Kol looked slightly uncomfortable sitting in the diner, but you ignored him. You were getting pretty good at ignoring him. 

“I used to go here all the time with my family,” you said, flipping to the drinks page of your menu. “Not this exact location…but this chain. I went to it when I first moved to my hometown.”

“It’s barely gourmet.”

“Fuck gourmet, I want comfort. I want to feel like home,” you laughed, closing your menu. “Don’t you want that?”

“Home?” Kol inquired. “Not sure what that is anymore.”

Your lips turned down in a frown, but you offered nothing else. He didn’t seem like he wanted to talk, and you wouldn’t force him. The waiter came over to take your orders, and you happily ordered a black coffee, orange juice, and a waffle platter. After they left, you started packing your bag with the tiny jams and creamers they had out on the table. Kol just looked at you in disdain. 

“You are pathetic.”

“Rent is expensive, groceries are expensive, give me a break,” you snorted, taking a few sugar packets for good measure before you stopped looting. Kol laughed, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his seat. His leg bounced from anxiety, and his fingers tapped the table in a paradiddle pattern, just left, right, left, left, right, left, right, right over and over again. He looked shockingly young, like the boy before he turned, and not the man he paraded as. For a split second, you could see yourself having a crush on him in high school if he was one of your peers. You erased that thought as soon as it came. “Can I ask a question?” you leaned forward on the table, arms folded in front of you. “Why are you guys always protecting me? I’m definitely a liability.”

“I think my brother just wants to sleep with you,” Kol sighed. You snorted, biting your bottom lip to subvert your laughter. Honestly…you have managed to weasel your way into our family—like a parasite.”

“Aw, your words are so kind,” you rolled your eyes, kicking Kol under the table. He just kicked you right back, wearing a smirk. “And I would never sleep with your brother.”

“Why’s that?” Kol questioned, crossing his arms. 

“His face is weird,” you answered. Kol put his head in his hands in laughter, and you joined him a second later. You weren’t sure if that was the reason, but it was the first thing that came to mind, and you didn’t think to change it. Plus, it made Kol laugh, which kind of made you happy. The arrival of your waffles made you even happier. 

“Bloody hell, you’re going to eat all of that?” Kol looked shocked, eyes flicking between you and your waffles. He had ordered a much smaller plate than yours. Yours likely could’ve been a party platter. 

“Yes, and I will do it with pride.”

You did eat all of it, and enjoyed Kol’s expression the whole time. He looked so disturbed it made up for it. You also drank all your coffee, orange juice, and free water refills. Your plan was to eat enough to enter hibernation. You even think Kol was a little impressed at some point. Kol asked the waiter for the nearest hotel, and they pointed you to a place three miles down the road that would likely have openings. By the time you left the diner, it was starting to get cold as the sun was setting. You could hear crickets; you probably would’ve gotten fireflies if you were more south. Kol drove surprisingly slow towards the hotel, which you attributed to his worry that going fast would cause you to throw up your entire waffle extravaganza. He slowed down even more when you came up to the “hotel”—which was actually just a bed and breakfast. An extremely cutesy bed and breakfast. 

The inside of the building was somehow worse than the outside. 

The outside had small-town charm. The inside was where doilies went to die. 

Both you and Kol exchanged glances as he went up to ring the bell. You counted seven cat portraits before a portly woman came out with a cheeky smile. She wore a linen frock and a floral dress right out of the 1960s. 

“Well, good evening,” she smiled. “What can I do for you?” She had a thick Minnesotan accent, and her smile made her eyes. Overall, she radiated friendliness. 

“We’d like a room?” you inquired, leaning against the counter. 

“Oh, you betcha! Lucky for you, I got the best suite in the house available. It’s perfect for you two lovebirds,” she chirped. Your eyes widened. 

“Oh, uh, we’re not together…,” you coughed. You turned to look at Kol, who just shrugged his shoulders. Completely useless. “Do you have a double?”

“Unfortunately, all our doubles are booked for our birding convention. I might have a futon available to bring to your room?”

“Perfect,” Kol smiled, finally interjecting. “We’ll take that.”

“Splendid! Here are your keys, and I’ll have you sign in there.”

You brought your one bag with you up the stairs and to the right to a room at the end of the hall. The wallpaper was mocking you at every turn, a plethora of orchids and pinks staring at you, along with the eyes of fifty million felines. You were certain Dolores Umbridge was hiding somewhere amongst the foliage. The room was less pink but still reminiscent of something in a senior home. The bed was the nicest part: a large four-poster with mahogany bedposts. The wallpaper was sage color with pictures of ferns. The ensuite bathroom had a clawfoot tub and gold décor. A painting of a young boy eating ice cream was on the wall. You immediately took it off the wall and turned it around so you didn’t have to look at it all night. 

“It’s a little…”

“Cozy?” Kol interjected, closing the door behind you two. 

“I was going to say tight.”

“It is the lovebird suite, darling,” Kol whispered in your ear, a smirk in his voice. A shiver ran down your spine. 

“I’ll take the futon.”

“I doubt you could fit a futon in here,” Kol scoffed. He was right. There was really only room for the bed and bedside tables. Whoever designed this room intended to spend a lot of time in bed. Your cheeks heated at the thought. You tapped your foot in thought before eventually sighing in defeat.

“Just…don’t get too handsy,” you shrugged, glaring at the vampire’s ever-present smirk. 

“Handsy? You must think me a rascal,” Kol cooed, stepping closer into your space. The room was tight, which meant you were backed against the wall. You felt like a rabbit being targeted by a fox, his mischievous grin and wandering eyes taking all of you in. Your eyes were drawn to how he licked his lips, and suddenly, your blood pressure spiked. Heat crawled up your neck, and you knew that Kol noticed. He always managed to notice. 

“Knock it off, Mikaelson,” you hissed, tilting your head up defiantly. 

“You’re actually red,” Kol chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. 

“…Shut up,” you slapped his hand away, maneuvering your way from his grasp. 

“Like actually vermillion,” he laughed, and you gave him an unsavory gesture as you escaped into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Back against the door, you breathed out, groaning into your hands. You pushed off the door, getting ready for bed in an effort to put this night behind you. You cleaned up, brushed your teeth, and put on pajamas. In hot weather, you usually just wear a T-shirt and shorts to bed. Your t-shirt said, ‘I got lobotomized at Freddy Fazbear’s,’ something idiotic that you couldn’t even fully be ashamed of. When you exited, Kol was lying on top of the covers on his phone, having changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked up when you exited, snorting as he read the shirt. “You have an odd sense of humor.”

“It’s too evolved for you to understand,” you rolled your eyes, getting in on the other side of the bed and leaving space between the two of you. Kol smelled sweet, like vanilla, and it was slowly suffocating you. You both sat in silence for a second before Kol disrupted it. 

“Y/N,”

“No.”

“Darling,” he purred, inching closer to you. 

“What, Kol,” you turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. 

“You like me,” he said. It was not a question, just something he exclaimed. You scoffed. 

“I do not.”

“You do. It’s why you blush vermillion when I call you things like darling,” he smiled, propping himself up on his elbow as he lay on his side to stare at you. 

“You’re incorrigible.”

“So, if I kissed you…you wouldn’t care,” Kol inquired, voice soft as he sat up slightly. You felt your heart skip a beat, and Kol’s mouth turned up slightly when he heard it. You knew you just proved his point, but you refused to concede. 

“I wouldn’t care,” you whispered, holding his gaze. 

“So, when I do this,” Kol leaned up, kissing your cheek, his lips burning your skin. He kissed right under your jaw, finally on your pulse point. “…it doesn’t matter?” 

You bit your tongue to stop yourself. “It doesn’t matter,” you choke out, but all you’re doing is spurring Kol on. You’re a hare caught in his trap, and you can’t even find it in yourself to hate it. Kol sucks on your pulse point, nipping lightly and moving down your neck, one hand coming up to tilt your head more to the side for easier access. His touch was shockingly gentle as if he was giving you an out. Your will was thinning by the minute, though, and eventually, you grabbed his hand, causing him to stop. 

“Darling—” he starts, but you cut him off by kissing his lips, soft but passionate. For once, you’ve taken him off guard, and a sense of pride spurs through you as you part, kissing the corner of his mouth and looking at him through thick lashes. 

“Does it matter?” you ask, voice breathy. “For you…” You’re not sure exactly what you’re asking, but you know there’s a line you’ve crossed that you can’t return from. Kol’s thumb brushes your cheek, so gentle from the reckless, hotheaded vampire you are acquainted with. A grin crosses his face. 

“It means everything,” he smiles, kissing you again, fingers tangling in your hair. Your hands find his arms, sighing as he deepens the kiss. You’re on fire, every single part of you, and you’re sure that Kol can feel your racing heart and hot skin. You like kissing him, though, and you realize you like him a lot. 

“Kol?” you breathe. “Don’t sleep on the futon.”

“For you? I would never,” he grins, kissing you again. You make sure to put a Do Not Disturb sign on the door for later. 

…

Afterwards.

It’s the middle of the night when he wakes you up.

“I guess Nik won’t be able to sleep with you now.”

“Kol.”

“Because I’ll be the only one sleeping with you.”

“Go to sleep.”

There’s a shuffling of blankets as his arm wraps tighter around you, his breath hot on your neck. 

“You’re going to be stuck with me forever,” he whispers. 

You smile. “I’m okay with that.”

taglist:: @rafecameronswhore

[drewsbraziliangf]

funny seeing you here | Drew Starkey x black!fem reader

summary: after seven months of not seeing his face, you find yourself at the same party he’s at. And he clearly made it his mission to be noticed by you. So what are you gonna do now?

warnings: alcohol consumption, suggestive smut

a/n: Here's part 3 of nothing to say when heaven falls. As the title called it, it was 100% inspired by ‘funny seeing you here’ by Jack Harlow which I recommend listening to during the reading. Comments and reblogs are never required but always very much appreciated 🫶🏻

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

"Hey," he said and you could barely hear the smile on his voice. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

No escape.

"Hi," you replied with a low voice, unsure if he had heard it over the loud music. "Yeah, I'm with Frankie."

"Uh, yeah, I saw her," he voices as he scoots slightly closer to you. "This does look more like her scene."

At that, you nod and mentally curse the fifth generation of this damned bartender who has yet to finish your drinks.

Everything around you is spiraling at this point. You were not ready for this, especially with how casual he's being about everything. It was not in your plans to run into him tonight and all you wanted was to get as far away from him as you could.

Your salvation comes in the shape of your friend, who you can see right past her excitement about how much she just wanted to take you out of that situation. She held your arm lightly and, it was as if you weren't waiting for almost ten minutes the bartender returned with both your drinks.

"Hey, uhm, what's taking so long?" Frankie says and pretends to be shocked when she looks up at Drew. "Oh hey! Long time, no see." As the words leave her mouth you notice how the stiff smile on her face shows her displeasure at his presence.

"Hi Frankie," he says a little taken back by her and you notice how he starts tapping his fingers against the glass the same way you were doing moments ago. A shared habit that the both of you didn't get to brush off of one another it seems.

"Let's go, babes! I still have so much to tell you."

With your drinks at hand, you followed her and immediately felt a weight fall off of your shoulders. Still, you weren't able to hold back and you looked over your shoulder just to see him checking you out.

Your face was burning after that and you just prayed to whatever God that Frankie was able to distract you enough to make you not act on the alcohol in your veins.

It wasn't a secret to anyone the effect that he had on you. I mean you were together for years and about to get married - obviously, you had to be attracted to him. And he just had this thing about him that made it very hard for you to ignore.

He looked handsome, but that was no surprise. He always looked so fine, except this time it seemed like he had filled out more. The black shirt he was wearing fitted him perfectly, the sleeves stretched around his biceps, and even from a glimpse you were able to notice how much bigger they were since you last saw him. His outgrown hair now looked more like a growing mullet and, god, that did work with him. At this point, you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your brain talking about how insanely good he looked.

“Y/N, honey, you good?” She asked once the both of you got back to your spot.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” You retorted to which she just stared at you with uncertainty.

“I don’t- I don’t know, you just looked like you were about to vanish in thin air back there,” she voices smoothly still looking at you.

“Yeah, I uh, I guess I just wasn’t expecting that to happen,” you confess.

She nods and sips on her drink, her own eyes scanning the room this time, and once she looks up at you once more you see a glimpse of regret there.

“I didn’t know. Had I known I wouldn’t have brought you here,” She declares with sorrow and you shake your head quickly.

“Hey, I know that! Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

At that, neither of you is sure enough.

You could feel that it was way past one in the morning, the air just felt different. The party was less crowded but the music was still blaring through the speakers. Frankie was entertained in a talk with a tall dark-skinned man who was whispering in her ear every now and then earning giggles from the brunette.

You had been nursing the drink in your hand for a while now, the condensation around the glass caused your fingertips to be wet. You were much more drunk than you’d normally get, but for once in a long time it felt good to let yourself go.

Still the numbness the alcohol brought, did not evade the feeling of what happened earlier. It had been so long since the last time and you were not expecting to see him like that. What would’ve happened if Frankie had not interrupted him? What would you have done?

“Hey,” You heard Frankie’s voice closer to your ear this time, “Would you mind if I left for a while? I promise I’ll be back and you won’t even notice.”

It amazed you that even with the amount of drinks she had, her pleading eyes didn’t fail to convince you. And honestly, she needed to have fun with the hot guy as well. So with a nod you sent her off watching her excitement as she followed him.

At least you were alone with your thoughts and could think and rethink everything, from your coffee orders to your love life as you downed the last of your blue coloured drink. But as if they were trying to prove a point, the spot next to you did not remain empty for long.

The same cologne that woke forbidden memories hours ago was flooding your space once again but this time it was subtle. Almost as if it was fading and taking with it your sanity.

“I thought we’d never get the chance to talk again,” was what he said and it didn’t take you long to notice that he too was a few drinks in.

Guess this isn’t a sober conversation, huh.

“I’d rather if it stays like that,” you mumbled as you watched him push a bottle of cold water towards you.

“Come on, this is a quieter spot. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now,” He leans in, just like Trent did with Frankie.

It felt so weird being close to him like this after so long. It felt like getting something you’ve wanted for so long but you were scared that you got the wrong thing. Does that even make sense?

“How's your sister and your niece?” You asked since there was no escape.

“They’re fine. Both of them, Lily still cries a lot but they’re good,” he voices as he sips from his own drink.

You unscrew the water bottle and take a big gulp out of it. Why were your hands so sweaty now? You didn’t have an answer to that so you just nodded and looked around the room as less and less people filled the dance floor and the bar.

“You look beautiful,” his compliment breaks the silence and goes straight to those confusing thoughts you were having. You have to control yourself. “I thought a lot before talking to you earlier, but I just couldn’t help myself when you looked like this. So pretty”

Even with his sweet words you couldn’t forget who he was and the history between the two of you. It was hard because even if you denied it a part of you still missed him so much. I mean, you shared years of your life with him so it isn’t that easy to ignore how much his absence affects you sometimes.

“What are you doing here, Drew?” The words leave your mouth before you could even process the thought.

He doesn’t say anything for a while and you finally look at him. His hair was slightly darker than it was months ago, the low cut shirt he is wearing gives you a peak of his chest hair and some freckles he has there. Looking into his eyes made your blood freeze for a second, it was like you were drowning in the bluest sea.

He scratched his overgrown beard while he looked down at the cup he was drinking from.

“I miss you,” He confesses with a sigh.

You shake your head as you set the water bottle back on the table.

“No, you can’t do this now,” You say and pray that he can hear you over the music. “Not after everything.”

“I-I fucked up and I know that,” he admits and that makes you feel dizzy. “I want to make things right between us.”

“Oh, now? You don’t even know if I have someone,” you scoff. “How’s Odessa by the way?”

“I wouldn’t know. It’s been a while since I last talked to her,” he says.

“Well so it’s best if I look over your shoulder since she might pop up from thin air,” your snide remark doesn’t go unnoticed by him but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not here to talk about anyone else but us. So can we please do that? Let’s find somewhere where we can actually talk because you just left and I know that what I did was the radon to that, but still.”

Your eyes met his for the second time that night and without much thought you found yourself nodding. You texted Frankie letting her know that you’d be getting an Uber home so she didn’t have to worry about you and in the next second you were following your ex out of the club.

It didn’t shock you that he was still living in the apartment you used to share. It looked almost the same just a few new pieces of furniture decorating the space and you couldn’t help but ask yourself if she had helped him to pick them out.

“Do you, uhm, wanna drink something?” He asked after he locked the door behind you.

“Yeah, I could use a glass of water.”

“Okay, lemme get that for you,” he says and walks to the kitchen.

You stay in the living room and take it all in. Why does his house feel this warm? Why did you feel comfortable in a place you chose to leave? Why wasn’t this freaking you out anymore? Before you could begin to dwell in any of those questions, his footsteps against the wooden floor pulled you from your thoughts.

“Here,” he hands you the filled glass.

“Thanks,” you say before taking a small sip from it.

“So, how have you been?” He asks and you can see that he immediately regrets it, “Fuck that’s a stupid question.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that and he quickly follows suit.

“I am okay. I’ve been worse, I’ve been better” you admit to which he only nods.

“I felt like shit, you know? I knew I was fucking up but I was so entranced by everything that was happening that I didn’t realize how much it was affecting you,” he says as he leans against the wall.

“It wasn’t easy for me to come up to you and say those things but I was so fed up that I didn’t know what to do anymore,” you admit as you take a step closer to him without even realising.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t care about you or your feelings.”

“I guess I just didn’t want to be an intruder in our own relationship. There was a point where I felt like I needed to talk to her to get to you. And I know there is history between you two, I just didn’t want to doubt that there was still something going on.”

You sigh as one of your fingers traced the rim of the glass.

“I mean, there were a few times that I called your phone and she was the one picking it up. That made me feel so insecure and so scared that I was being lied to.”

“I-what? I didn’t know that.” He truly seemed surprised by your words.

“Well,” you scoff as you shake your head, “I guess she never told you that I called you then.”

You turn around and put the glass on the centre table. He simply watched you and even if he might not admit it yet seeing you in his house again made something in chest warm. Something in him just told him that you belonged there.

“You see, this is what I am talking about.” You add without turning to look at him. “This shouldn’t be normal.”

“I really didn’t know and when I looked at my calls registry your name wasn’t there so I assumed she was telling the truth.”

He did feel guilty about that, but he wasn’t lying. He truly didn’t know of that happenstance.

You sigh and you look back at him, your eyes burning as you feel a deep sense of deja vu.

“I really thought you were it for me, you know?” You confess and a tear streams down your face.

As if it was a reflex thing, he immediately reaches for you and wipes the tear off your face.

“I am so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that,” he says looking into your eyes.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the vulnerability that enveloped the both of you, but you couldn’t help more tears from following that first one. It felt so calming to be talking about this with him after so long, like a ton was being taken out of your chest. Obviously you had people to talk to but it wasn’t the same.

You rested your head on his shoulder as his hands were on the back of your neck. He went in for the first touch, his lips kissed the top of your head. That made you tense up for a second and as you looked up your gaze was immediately captured by his.

His nose touched yours first and as he leaned in for your lips, you couldn’t help but pull back. That happened twice more and you knew that he was frustrated but you were just so scared of opening up to him again.

“Please,” he begs with a breathy voice and as you look into his eyes you are able to see the same man you fell in love with years ago.

After that you didn’t resist anymore and his lips quickly found yours.

Oh.

One of his hands cradled your face as he deepened the kiss and the other was occupied squeezing the softness of your hips. Now, you could’ve lied to yourself about many things, but this was never one of them. He knew exactly where to touch you and how to do it.

You pressed your body against his and the sigh that left your lips when you felt his bulge pressed on your stomach. He moaned on your lips at the pressure and in a blink of an eye you had your legs wrapped around him.

He now held you with one of his arms as he guided the both of you towards the bedroom. His lips didn’t leave yours, the only time he broke the kiss was when he pulled your lower lip between his teeth, but in the next second he was devouring them again.

When he reached the bedroom he didn’t bother to close the door. He laid you on the bed and you breathlessly watched him pull his shirt off with one hand before he knelt between your legs.

Please God, don’t make me regret this.

💖taglist💖: @emmaafinchh @rafecamerons-national-anthem @bvleeeeeee @a-j-stuffs @maybankslover @lovelylove268 @cooper8224 @esquivelbianca @dreamybabbyy @lulubabii @idiotussupremus @drewsphswife @ietss @noneofyabuisnezs @chenslucy @yvbe99 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @theeternaloptimistt @roselibrary @daddydraco0 @iheartcats444 @allopathi

[songbirdseung]

mr. green flag / park jongseong

synopsis: after dating the wrong guys, you wanted to give up love and relationships. although, a man named park jongseong changed things for you.

pairing: nonidol!jay x nonidol!yn

warnings: cheating, red flag boyfriends, love triangles, cuss words

The bartender was most likely your best friend now since you basically came to the bar every week or two. Crying over a guy who definitely not worth your tears and time. But the bartender was very understanding of your situation and tried his very best to provide comfort and reassurance.

You found out his name was Terry. He's been working at the bar as his second job just to make extra money. Such a nice genuine guy, someone you wish you could date but for some reason, the universe hated your guts, or you just did so horrible in your past life that you need to be punished in this life.

"Okay, last one for tonight. You still got to drive yourself home" he slides your drink towards you with a serious but caring look on his face. "When are you going to break up with that douchebag?" all the arrows pointed to breaking up with him, but since you were so blinded, you couldn't just let him go. As stupid as it was, you loved him despite all the foolish and childish things he has done to you.

"I love you; I do. But I hate seeing you walk through the door with a frown on your face and tears running down your face. It's time you be single or date a good guy" terry doesn't know how many times he had already said these things to you, but he has to remind you every time.

On the drive home, you were dreading it. What if you open the door to your shared apartment with your boyfriend and see him banging another girl? why did you have to be so stupid and such a coward, why couldn't you just say the words "let's break up" or "I'm done" then follow up with a "get out of my apartment" then be over with it.

Luckily for you, the universe wanted to be a little bit kinder to you, you opened the door to your apartment and no, your boyfriend wasn't hooking up with someone. But you knew, he probably already did earlier in the day. As you make your way into the kitchen to drink some medicine and water, you receive a text from terry.

terry: don't forget what I said earlier, you can't say you forgot because we both know you're not drunk.

You sigh and head to your bedroom where your boyfriend is playing video games. You turn on the light and he immediately spin around in his chair and starts yelling at how you disrupted his game.

This is it; you just have to do it. Just say the words yn. "I'm breaking up you, by tomorrow morning, I expect you to be out of this house and my life."

That was a whole month ago, now you were currently single and moving on. Instead of being at the bar with terry, you were at the mall. "I'm proud of you yn, it's been a month and from what I've notice, you're doing great" you smile and nod, "I honestly did not know where the confidence came from when I broke up with him."

You recall all the times you got broken up with by your past 2 boyfriends. they all treated you the way your 3rd boyfriend did. Realizing that all these three, when you started dating them, they would put up a persona, a facade as if they were good guys and they would treat you the way you deserved. They promised things that turned to be absolutely bullshit and empty promises. Then down the road, they would slowly show their true colors and behaviors.

"Maybe I'm meant to be single, maybe i should just give up on relationships" terry listens to your rants and future goals. Listing down all the things you want to do now since you were free from manipulators and controlling men. "Who knows, Mr. right is just around the corner" he pretends to look around, but you miss the real intention or message behind that remark from terry.

Relationships and love were now long gone from your life, and you wanted it to stay that way. Being in those toxic and shitty relationships, you lost yourself. Now it was time to bring that lively and passionate girl back. to do so, old passions, goals, dreams were revisited and worked on again. as months passed, the old you started to resurface. You felt happy, you felt like yourself.

Once day, you went to visit your family house, and in that house, there was a basement where your old stuff was placed in boxes. You placed them there so no one could mess with them and for your old room to be used for whenever they had guest over. Looking through your stuff, you reached over for your guitar that was in its case. The instrument that was your whole life. It was quite upsetting that whenever you would play guitar in your apartment, your ex would get mad at you, claiming how loud you were and how bad you were at playing. it caused you to stop and feel insecure over something you so sure of since you were little. You placed the guitar on your lap and started playing, you haven't played in a long time, but muscle memory was helping you so much.

You got back on your game, focusing on school and looking for a part time job to earn money. You were spending so much time with yourself, you forgot to spend quality time with your friends too. You had terry, chaeryoung, and jake. You weren't a group, but you used to hang out with them separately.

Putting down the paint brush and picking up the disregarded phone on the floor, you dial jake's number. After a few rings he picks up with a sassy but not serious tone. "You remember I exist huh, yn?" you laugh in an apology and ask him if he wants to go out. To which he agrees and tells you he'd be there to pick you up in 15 minutes.

Jake and you go way back, you met him in Australia when you were on vacation. Everyone in your family were appreciating the view as they were sight-seeing. But you were more interested in the golden border collie that was staring back at you and wagging her tail as you made grabby hands at her. Only being 10 years old, your parents didn't let you go anywhere unsupervised, so they kept a tight hold on you, but you just had to pet the cute puppy. With enough wiggling out of their grasp and run away. "Hi, can i pet your puppy?" looking up at the lady who was holding the leash. She gives you the green light and starts asking you questions. "what's your name?" "Where are your parents?" "How old are you?" obviously, you answered her with respect. later, a young boy, who seems to be the son of the lady comes up and says hi. A very friendly boy with an Australian accent asks you if you wanna be friends.

That's where it all began. it was a long-distance friendship, not until jake decided to go back to Korea. You two have been glued to each other's hip since then, he was there for you for everything, for the good and bad. he's seen all the men you'd dated and unlike terry who was the "good cop", jake was the "bad cop" telling you how it was and even if it had to be said in the harshest way, he'd say it. When you told him you ended your recent relationship, happy was an understatement with how Jake felt.

Today, he still is your best friend. "Jake, stop letting me win, it ain't fun that way" stern look on your face as you stare at your best friend who is standing by the goal post. "I'm not, you're just really good" he shrugs his shoulders with that award winning smile. "you're not even moving; you're not even blocking the ball" you whine as you walk up to him.

The whole day was probably spent with Jake, it was getting dark, and it was time to part ways. or so you thought. Jake comes back to you after taking a call from a friend. "Hey, my friend Sunghoon called me saying how he has two extra tickets to that movie we were just talking about, you wanna go?" saying yes, you alert your parents with a text, letting them know you'll be home late.

On the way Jake opens up the topic of romance, asking for an update. "you're not seeing any losers, aren't you?" he chuckles, and he looks at the sour face you made. "No, I'm going to stay single for a long time" emphasize on the word long.

The whole time, you just thought that it would be the three of you, that you only had to meet Sunghoon. But no, you were standing there, with maybe the most good-looking guy you have ever seen. Jake would probably disagree and say it was him. Once you arrive and jake found Sunghoon, you immediately greet him and share banter, then another guy comes from the bathroom and greets you as well.

"Hi, I'm jay. You must be jake's friend he keeps complaining about." He jokes, and when he smiled, you might have just melted, he turns to Sunghoon, and you saw how sharp his jawline was. He was incredibly handsome that it makes you question if you should really give up on love or not.

"What do you mean, complaining...jake?!" you slap jake's arm and face your whole body towards him. "What have you been saying to them?!" you kept slapping his arm until he stops laughing and taking a hold of you. "I tell them how crazily stupid you are when it comes to dating and how I am tired of trying to save your ass yn" he explained while laughing like there was no tomorrow.

"If I was dating you, I think I'd be the one crazily in love" jay speaks and it makes your mind literally stop working, the cogs in your brain stopped and malfunctioned. "Damn you just met her, and you're already smitten?" Sunghoon chuckles and shakes his head, leading you all towards the room where the movie was going to play.

As the movie played, you couldn't help but steal glances at Jay, his profile illuminated by the flickering light of the screen. Each time your eyes met, a playful smile danced on his lips, igniting a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the theater's heating.

When the credits finally rolled, and the lights brightened, Jay turned to you with a grin. "Well, that was a rollercoaster," he remarked, his voice light with amusement. You chuckled in agreement, feeling a sense of ease settle between you. "Definitely kept us on the edge of our seats," you replied, matching his playful tone.

Stepping out into the cool evening air, the bustling chatter of the crowd surrounding you faded into the background as you and Jay fell into conversation. It was effortless, as if you'd known each other for years rather than mere hours. You found yourselves sharing anecdotes, swapping stories, and delving into shared interests with an enthusiasm that felt electric.

"So, what's your favorite movie of all time?" Jay asked, his eyes alight with curiosity as he turned to you. You paused, considering his question with a thoughtful expression. "Hmm, tough one," you mused, a smile quirking at the corners of your lips. "But if I had to choose, I'd say 'Inception.' The whole concept of dreams within dreams just blows my mind."

Jay nodded, his own smile widening. "Ah, a fellow fan of mind-bending plots," he replied, a hint of admiration in his voice. "I'm more of a 'Shawshank Redemption' guy myself. Can't beat a classic."

As you continued to chat and laugh together, the connection between you deepened, each shared moment cementing the bond that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second. It was a feeling unlike any you'd experienced before, a sense of belonging and understanding that left you yearning for more.

And as you walked side by side, the city lights casting a gentle glow upon your faces, you couldn't shake the feeling that this unexpected encounter with Jay was just the beginning of something truly extraordinary.

After the movie, as you all parted ways, Jay lingered, asking if you'd like to grab a coffee sometime. His smile was genuine, his eyes kind, and in that moment, you felt a glimmer of hope stir within you. Maybe, just maybe, there was something worth exploring beyond the scars of your past relationships.

As you said goodbye to Jay and watched him walk away with a quickening heart, Jake nudged you playfully. "Well, well, looks like someone's got a fan," he teased, grinning mischievously.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at your lips. "Shut up, Jake," you replied, nudging him back. But deep down, you couldn't deny the warmth that Jay's presence had ignited within you, a flicker of possibility in a heart once shrouded in doubt.

In the days that followed your encounter with Jay, your mind became consumed with swirling doubts and questions, overshadowing the initial excitement and warmth you felt in his presence. Despite the undeniable chemistry and the effortless connection you shared, the scars of past heartbreaks loomed large, casting a shadow of uncertainty over your burgeoning feelings.

As you went about your daily routine, thoughts of Jay lingered in the back of your mind, a constant presence that refused to be ignored. You found yourself replaying your conversations, analyzing every word and gesture, searching for signs of hidden agendas or red flags that might betray his true intentions.

"What if I'm just setting myself up for another disappointment?" you whispered to yourself, the weight of past betrayals heavy on your shoulders. The fear of being hurt again, of having your trust shattered and your heart broken, threatened to suffocate the budding hope that had dared to take root in your chest.

You confided in your closest friends, seeking their advice and perspective on the situation. Terry offered words of encouragement, reminding you of your resilience and strength in overcoming past obstacles. "Don't let fear dictate your happiness," he urged, his voice gentle but firm. "Take a chance, yn. You deserve to find love again, and Jay might just be the one to help you rediscover it."

But despite Terry's reassurances, the nagging doubts persisted, gnawing at your confidence and filling your mind with endless what-ifs. What if history were to repeat itself? What if Jay turned out to be just like the others, another heartbreaker in disguise?

As you tossed and turned in bed, sleep eluding you in the late hours of the night, you couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that gripped your heart. The prospect of opening yourself up to love once more felt both exhilarating and terrifying, a delicate balance between hope and fear that left you teetering on the edge of indecision.

With a sigh, you sank into the soft cushions, the weight of your worries pressing heavily upon you. "I just... I don't know what to do, Chaeryoung," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so afraid of getting hurt again, of making the same mistakes I've made in the past."

Chaeryoung listened attentively, her gaze unwavering as she reached out to gently grasp your hand in hers. "I understand, yn," she said softly, her voice filled with empathy. "But you can't let the fear of the past dictate your future. Sometimes, taking a chance on love means embracing the possibility of heartache, knowing that the journey is worth the risk."

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as Chaeryoung's words struck a chord deep within you. "But what if I'm not strong enough to handle it?" you whispered, the fear of vulnerability threatening to consume you.

Chaeryoung squeezed your hand reassuringly, her expression filled with unwavering support. "You are stronger than you know, yn," she said firmly, her voice filled with conviction. "And you don't have to face this alone. I'll be here for you every step of the way, no matter what happens."

The day of your coffee date with Jay arrived, and despite the lingering doubts that still gnawed at the edges of your mind, you found yourself determined to embrace the opportunity with an open heart. As you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down your outfit and running a nervous hand through your hair, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation mingled with trepidation.

When you arrived, Jay was already there, waiting patiently at a table near the window with a warm smile on his lips. As you approached, his eyes lit up with genuine delight, and you felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks at the sight of him.

"Hey, yn, I'm so glad you could make it," Jay said, rising from his seat to greet you with a friendly hug. "You look amazing."

You returned his smile with a shy grin of your own, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly at his easygoing demeanor. "Thanks, Jay," you replied, feeling a surge of gratitude for his kindness and understanding.

As you settled into your seats and engaged in conversation, you found yourself swept away by Jay's charm and wit, his easy laughter and genuine interest in getting to know you better putting you at ease. With each passing moment, the doubts and insecurities that had plagued you began to fade into the background, replaced by a sense of connection and possibility that left you breathless with anticipation.

Midway through the date, as the conversation flowed effortlessly between you and Jay, you found yourself laughing at his animated retelling of a recent mishap at work. His eyes sparkled with amusement, his infectious laughter filling the air and drawing a smile to your lips.

"You wouldn't believe it," Jay exclaimed, his hands gesturing wildly as he recounted the comical series of events. "I swear, if it weren't for my quick thinking, we would have been knee-deep in paperwork!"

You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. "Well, I'm glad you were able to save the day," you replied, unable to tear your gaze away from the twinkle in Jay's eyes. "Sounds like you're quite the hero."

Jay grinned, his dimples deepening as he leaned back in his chair. "Oh, you have no idea," he teased, his voice laced with playful exaggeration. "I've got a cape and everything."

The two of you shared a laugh, the tension easing between you as you basked in the warmth of each other's company. With each passing moment, you felt yourself growing more comfortable and at ease with Jay, the initial nerves of the date fading into the background as you lost yourself in the easy banter and shared laughter.

And as you shared another round of laughter with Jay, the doubts and insecurities that had once clouded your mind seemed to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of hope and possibility that whispered of new beginnings and endless horizons. With a smile on your lips and a lightness in your heart, you leaned in closer to Jay, eager to savor every moment of this unexpected journey that had brought you together.

As the evening drew to a close and the coffee shop began to empty out, you and Jay found yourselves lingering at your table, reluctant to part ways just yet. The easy conversation and shared laughter had created a bond between you that felt both comforting and exhilarating, leaving you reluctant to let the night end.

As you gathered your belongings and prepared to leave, Jay rose from his seat and offered you a warm smile. "Well, yn, I had a really great time tonight," he said sincerely, his eyes meeting yours with a gentle warmth that sent a flutter of excitement through your chest.

You returned his smile, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you for the unexpected connection you had shared. "I did too, Jay," you replied, your voice soft with sincerity. "Thank you for such a wonderful evening."

As you made your way outside, the cool night air wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, Jay walked beside you in easy silence, his presence a reassuring presence at your side. The streets were quiet now, the bustling city fading into the background as you walked side by side, lost in your own thoughts.

When you finally reached your doorstep, you turned to face Jay, feeling a mixture of reluctance and anticipation swirling within you. "Well, this is me," you said with a hesitant smile, gesturing to the entrance of your building.

Jay nodded, his expression softening with a hint of regret. "Yeah, it is," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "I wish we could stay out here all night."

You chuckled softly, feeling a pang of disappointment at the thought of saying goodbye so soon. "Me too," you admitted, your heart heavy with the weight of impending separation.

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the unspoken words hanging in the air between you like a delicate thread. And then, without warning, Jay reached out to gently grasp your hand in his, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

"I really want to kiss you right now, yn," Jay said softly, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of longing and respect. "But I don't want to rush things. I want to take things slow, and I want to make sure you feel comfortable every step of the way."

His words were like a balm to your weary heart, a reminder that not all men were like the ones who had hurt you in the past. And as you looked into Jay's eyes, you saw nothing but sincerity and kindness reflected back at you, filling you with a sense of warmth and gratitude that you hadn't felt in a long time.

With a grateful smile, you squeezed Jay's hand gently, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at his understanding and compassion. "Thank you, Jay," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I really appreciate that."

And as you stood there in the soft glow of the streetlights, the night stretching out before you like a canvas waiting to be painted, you knew that this unexpected encounter with Jay was just the beginning of a journey filled with hope, healing, and the promise of a love that was worth waiting for.

A few weeks had passed since your coffee date with Jay, and life had quickly resumed its hectic pace. Between work commitments, family obligations, and the occasional outing with friends, you found yourself swept up in a whirlwind of activity, the days blurring together in a haze of busyness and distraction.

Despite the outward appearance of normalcy, however, there was a lingering sense of restlessness that gnawed at the edges of your mind, a quiet unease that whispered of unresolved worries and unspoken fears. You had thrown yourself into your daily routines with a sense of determination and purpose, but beneath the surface, a part of you still felt adrift, searching for something elusive and intangible.

Your friends had noticed the change in you, their concerned glances and probing questions a constant reminder of the facade you had erected to shield yourself from their scrutiny. Terry, Chaeryoung, and Jake had all voiced their concerns, offering words of support and encouragement in their own unique ways, but you had brushed off their worries with a casual wave of your hand, insisting that you were fine and that there was nothing to be concerned about.

But deep down, you knew that wasn't entirely true. The truth was, you were struggling to keep up appearances, to maintain the facade of strength and resilience that you had carefully crafted to hide the vulnerability and uncertainty that lurked within. You were tired of pretending, tired of wearing a mask that no longer fit, but you didn't know how to let it go, how to break free from the chains that bound you to a life that felt increasingly hollow and unfulfilling.

It was on one such day, as you sat alone in your apartment, lost in a sea of thoughts and doubts, that there came a knock at your door. Startled from your reverie, you rose from your seat and made your way to the entrance, your heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

When you opened the door, you were surprised to find Jay standing on the other side, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. "Hey, yn," he said softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of the turmoil that lay beneath the surface. "Can I come in?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to explain the maelstrom of emotions that churned within you. But as you looked into Jay's eyes, you saw nothing but warmth and understanding reflected back at you, and you felt a sudden surge of gratitude for his unwavering support and compassion.

With a nod, you stepped aside to let Jay into your apartment, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between you. As he took a seat beside you on the couch, you felt a sense of relief wash over you at the prospect of finally opening up to someone who truly cared.

For a long moment, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant rumble of traffic outside. And then, at last, Jay spoke, his voice gentle and reassuring.

"yn, I've noticed that you've been… distant lately," he began, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "And I just wanted to check in and see how you're doing. Is everything okay?"

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke off your words. But before you could reply, Jay reached out to gently grasp your hand in his, his touch a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions that raged within you.

"You don't have to pretend with me, yn," Jay said softly, his voice filled with quiet understanding. "Whatever you're going through, whatever you're feeling… I'm here for you. You don't have to face it alone."

And in that moment, as you looked into Jay's eyes and saw the depth of his sincerity and compassion, you knew that you had found someone worth opening up to, someone who would stand by your side through thick and thin, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

With a grateful smile, you squeezed Jay's hand gently, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at the prospect of finally sharing your burdens with someone who truly cared. And as you began to open up to Jay, pouring out your fears and insecurities with a vulnerability you had never shown anyone before, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders, replaced by a newfound sense of hope and optimism for the future.

In the days and weeks that followed, you found solace in the unwavering support and understanding of Jay, who stood by your side through every twist and turn of your journey. With his encouragement and guidance, you began to confront the demons of your past, slowly but surely breaking free from the chains that had bound you for so long.

Together, you navigated the highs and lows of life, sharing laughter and tears, triumphs and setbacks, as you embarked on a journey of self-discovery and healing. With Jay's love and support, you found the strength to confront your fears and insecurities head-on, embracing the challenges that lay before you with courage and resilience.

As your relationship with Jay blossomed and deepened, you found yourself constantly amazed by his thoughtfulness and consideration. Jay seemed to possess an innate understanding of your needs and boundaries, effortlessly navigating the intricacies of your heart with a sensitivity and empathy that left you feeling cherished and valued.

One evening, as you curled up on the couch together, lost in the pages of a book, Jay reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch light and tender against your skin. You looked up to find him gazing at you with an expression of quiet adoration, his eyes filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter with affection.

Without a word, Jay leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin in a silent promise of love and devotion. And in that moment, as you felt the weight of his affection wash over you like a soothing balm, you knew with a certainty that this was where you belonged, in the arms of a man who loved you unconditionally, flaws and all.

In the days and weeks that followed, Jay continued to show his affection in the small but meaningful ways that spoke volumes of his love for you. Whether it was leaving notes of encouragement tucked into your lunch bag, surprising you with your favorite meal after a long day, or simply wrapping you in a warm embrace when you needed it most, Jay's gestures never failed to brighten your day and fill your heart with joy.

But what touched you most deeply was the way Jay always respected your boundaries and comfort levels, never pushing you to do anything you weren't ready for or comfortable with. Instead, he met you where you were, showering you with love and affection in the ways that felt most natural and comfortable to you.

And as you snuggled close to Jay on the couch, his arms wrapped protectively around you, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the man who had come into your life and filled it with so much love and happiness. With Jay by your side, you knew that you were truly blessed, and you vowed to cherish every moment you shared together, knowing that the love you had found was a rare and precious gift that would last a lifetime.

And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, you found yourself growing stronger and more confident with each passing day, no longer defined by the scars of your past but by the boundless possibilities of your future.

In Jay, you found not only a lover but a confidant, a partner who shared your hopes and dreams, fears and insecurities, and who stood by your side through thick and thin. Together, you forged a bond that was stronger than any obstacle, a love that transcended the trials and tribulations of life.

One evening, as you sat together on the balcony, watching the sun dip below the horizon in a blaze of fiery colors, you found yourselves lost in conversation, sharing your deepest thoughts and feelings with a vulnerability and honesty that only strengthened the bond between you.

"I never thought I'd find someone like you, yn," Jay said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "Someone who truly understands me, who accepts me for who I am, flaws and all."

You turned to look at Jay, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "I feel the same way, Jay," you replied, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "You've shown me a kind of love and acceptance that I never knew was possible, and for that, I'm eternally grateful."

As you sat together in companionable silence, the soft murmur of the city below providing a soothing backdrop to your conversation, you felt a sense of peace settle over you like a warm blanket. With Jay by your side, you knew that you could weather any storm that came your way, knowing that his love and support would always be there to guide you through.

And as the stars began to twinkle overhead, casting their gentle glow upon you both, you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Jay's lips, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude for the man who had come into your life and filled it with so much joy and happiness. With Jay by your side, you knew that anything was possible, and you vowed to cherish every moment you shared together, knowing that your love was a bond that would last a lifetime.

And as you looked towards the horizon, your heart filled with gratitude for the unexpected twists and turns that had led you to this moment, you knew that with Jay by your side, the future held endless promise and possibility.

With a smile on your lips and a lightness in your heart, you stepped forward into the unknown, ready to embrace whatever adventures awaited you, knowing that as long as you had Jay by your side, you could weather any storm that came your way.

And so, as the sun set on one chapter of your life and rose on the next, you took Jay's hand in yours, ready to embark on a new journey filled with love, laughter, and endless possibilities.

For in Jay, you had found not only a partner but a soulmate, a kindred spirit who had walked through fire and brimstone to stand by your side, and for that, you would be eternally grateful.

And as you walked hand in hand into the sunset, the echoes of your laughter mingling with the gentle rustle of the wind, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything.

And so, with hearts full of hope and love, you stepped forward into the unknown, ready to embrace whatever adventures awaited you, knowing that as long as you had each other, the future held endless promise and possibility.

[elliessmile]

Through The Haze

Pt. 1

TW: Marijuana, smoking, self doubt, body dysmorphia

TLDR: Ellie struggles with her appearance and self-doubt about her ability to be liked. She takes you to her place to have a smoke session with you, and finds herself relaxed.

2.6k words

Ellie had always been insecure. Whether it was how her freckles littered her face, how toothy she felt her grin was, or the way her hair fell, her appearance was never good enough for her. A canvas for endless internal criticism.

She really couldn't fathom why anyone found her attractive. It wasn't like she was a stranger to being flirted with, but the second she opened her mouth to reply, a suave remark would always inevitably turn into an awkward mumble. She couldn't see past the mental block of how much she hated her appearance, it was blinding and shook her confidence at every turn.

Every once in a while, someone would find her bumbling attempts at courtship endearing. This time, this summer Saturday night, someone just happened to be you.

.....

Ellie felt an elbow slide into hers across the smooth wood of the bartop. She glanced over, ready to apologize to whoever she thought she may have inconvienced by taking up space and her eyes settled on the glass in your hand. She let her eyes trail slowly up your arm and over your shoulder until they reached your face, your eyes relaxed with an amused grin.

"I'm sorry," Ellie looked away, worried about staring too long, instead pretending to take inventory of the numerous liquor bottles, "I didn't mean to bother you."

You laughed; it startled her. "I did it on purpose." You shook your head silently giggling.

Ellie's eyebrows furrowed. "Oh," she hesitated, "Really?" She cursed herself for sounding so timid when she had meant to be suave.

"Yeah," you looked down at your glass, taking a swig without making eye contact, "really."

Ellie tapped her foot anxiously against the barstool. What was she doing??

She had come to this bar to put herself out there for once and was fumbling it even though it was falling right into her lap! She mustered up as much faux confidence as she could.

Ellie pretended to look aloof, swirling her drink in her glass as she replied, "OK, why?".

She cringed a little bit internally. Not the most seductive retort.

You tapped your chin in thought. "Hmm..." you paused, "...'cause you're cute".

Ellie's eyes widened a little bit. Cute?

"Oh yeah?" She raised an eyebrow.

You nodded, looking into her eyes with a cheeky grin. "Yeah..." You chuckled warmly.

She set her glass down, listening to the sound it made as it made contact with the counter.

"You're...uh...pretty cute yourself," she smiled, making sure to keep her teeth tucked behind her lips.

You teased her right back, "Oh yeah?".

She looked away bashfully, nervously laughing before saying, "Yeah".

After a brief pause, Ellie watched you flag down the bartender for another drink, a vodka soda this time. She was more of a jack and coke girl herself.

"Do you want anything?" She glanced at your lips as you spoke, eyes darting away right before you could catch her.

"Ah," she rubbed her arm nervously, picking at the loose strands of her sleeve, " it felt dumb not getting at least one though."

Ellie watched you tilt your head in what looked like some mix between amusement and curiosity.

"OK, I respect it. What's your typical vice then?" You smirked, swirling your drink and looking at her from the corner of your eye.

She rubbed the back of her neck and looked at the corner of the room where the wall met the ceiling, slightly embarassed though unsure of the source.

"I'm more of a smoker. I don't like the hangover." She scanned your face, eyes searching yours, trying to predict what you were thinking.

"You know, honestly? Same," you smiled, sipping at the carbonation in your hand, "I just wanted an excuse to keep talking to you."

Ellie was stunned. Was this really happening?

Her eyebrows shot up, and she looked away, unsure of what to say. She chuckled nervously, still tapping her foot. She mustered all the fake confidence she could as she said, "I'm flattered," her voice cracking on the last syllable. She kicked herself for faltering again.

She watched you throw back the last of your drink, watching as a small drop trickled down your chin before you wiped it away with your the back of your hand.

Ellie was captivated by the way you moved, fluid and easygoing. She took a deep breath and looked you dead in the eye.

"So, do you wanna get out of here?"

....

That was how Ellie found herself sat across from you, completely zoning out while studying the color of your lips and how they move in a way she couldn't help but be charmed by, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

You laughed, a warm but sudden sound, shaking your head: "Are you even listening to me?"

Ellie blinked hard, seemingly snapping herself out of a trance. "Sorry," she feigned nonchalance, "got distracted".

You rolled your eyes, yet Ellie could tell you were still amused. She watched as you quickly raised your eyebrows, eyes wide.

"Oh my God. I don't think I even asked your name."

Ellie snorted. "It's Ellie."

Your cheeks flushed, she noted. She felt slightly smug in a way, knowing that you had come all the way back to her place without knowing the slightest detail about her. She asked your name, nodding when you replied.

Ellie relaxed into her couch, legs kicked up on her low-lying coffee table. It was so much easier for her to be comfortable at home.

"So, you said you smoke. Do you like pipes or..., ya know, what's the vibe?" She mussed with her hair absent-mindedly.

"Hmm," you paused, "I prefer bongs honestly. Doesn't burn your throat so bad."

Ellie nodded, smiling and meeting your eyes. "And what do you like to smoke?"

You squinted your eyes in thought. "Sativa. I like the way it makes my body feel. The kind where every motion makes your body tingle. Feels electric almost."

Ellie raised her eyebrows, smirking a bit. "I know what you mean." She paused, "I have some you might like if you're down."

You grinned widely. "I am so down."

Ellie propelled herself off the couch. "I gotchu," she said warmly, softly smiling, "I'll be right back". She could feel your eyes studying her figure as she retreated into another room.

...

A few minutes later she returned with a bong in the shape of a crystal ball and started packing a bowl, pulling from a small, unmarked jar.

You giggled, "Where the hell did you get that?"

She glanced up at you, a small smirk on her face, "I have my ways. You like it?"

"Of course I do," you laughed. "Whatcha got there?"

"Sour Diesel. I like it 'cause it makes my body all relaxed and buzzy and shit, but also like...makes my mind all calm and stuff. It's chill," she rambled, reaching away from the instrument and grabbing a lighter.

She watched as you took in her words, seeming to weigh each syllable.

"Do you want the first hit?" Ellie asked with genuine curiosity, making sure you were comfortable.

"Nah, it's your weed. You go first." You looked up at her across the coffee table.

"Ok," she shrugged smugly, "suit yourself."

Ellie lifted the bong to her lips, flicking the lighter with her slender fingers. The flame crackled to life in an instant. She felt your eyes on her as her face glowed from the ignition. She pulled in a deep breath as the water bubbled, pulling the plug out a few seconds later. The bowl smoldered,  glowing a vibrant orange.

The white smoke swirled around in the orb, looking like some kind of twisted magic. She felt quite satisfied with herself as she deeply inhaled the vapor, holding it in her lungs for a moment before slowly exhaling and sending smoke wafting through the room in your direction. She took two more hits in quick succession, filling the air with a slight haze.

"Wow," you sighed, lips slightly agape.

Ellie looked at you amusedly, "What?"

"You just look..." you trailed off, "really hot when you smoke."

Ellie paused before scrunching her face up and laughing. "Really? Uh...thanks."

"Yeah," you looked away, "really."

Ellie's eyes flickered up to yours as you turned your head back to look in her direction. "Here," she held out the crystal ball and the lighter to you, moving forward in one fluid motion, "your turn."

She watched as you wrapped your hands around the objects. "It's been a minute since I've done this," you expressed, "Could I get a light?"

Ellie smiled warmly, "Of course." She strolled over to where you were seated, crouching down so her face was level with your chest, balancing herself on the balls of her feet, the white toes of her Converse creasing.

She flipped the flame to life once again, reigniting the embers. You sucked in a deep breath as she pulled out the plug before it could scatter ash everywhere. You took a large inhale of the smoke.

Ellie laughed to herself a bit as you began coughing, a rookie move. You pulled another hit anyway as she started the lighter again when you nodded at her. It was kind of cute how new you seemed to this, despite your earlier remarks.

She carefully took the instrument out of your hands, setting it down on the table before leaning back on the couch again.  Her green eyes searched your face before she let out a genuinely girlish laugh.

"What?" You looked concerned, searching her eyes.

"Nothing," her face was painted with intrigue, "you're just cute."

Ellie saw your cheeks turn red again. "You think so?"

"Yeah," a beat passed, "I do."

She met your eyes, and noted that they were dilated, as she was sure hers were. Your eyelids looked relaxed, your face so pretty and rosy in the dim golden light of the room. The air felt charged.

She carded her fingers through her auburn hair, mustering up all the charisma she had: "What're you so far away for?" She asked, once again hiding her now waning anxiety.

She looked up from under her heavy eyelids and saw your inebriated mind process what she said. "I...don't know," you mumbled, a smile playing at your lips under your half-lidded eyes.

Ellie heard the couch springs creak as you nestled beside her, close enough to smell her woodsy cologne. Your warmth was so comforting, your scent intoxicating her and almost overwhelming her heightened senses.

She looked over her left shoulder at you, her eyes flickering from how your shirt fell over your chest, up to your slightly chapped lips, and finally up to your dilated pupils once again.

"You look..." her voice was low and slightly hoarse from the smoke, "really pretty." She saw your eyes watching her lips form the words.

Your shoulders lowered as you exhaled, eyes shut. "Thanks."

Ellie was puzzled by your response. She furrowed her brows, a crease forming between them, "What are you thinking?"

You paused, eyes opening and looking up at her intensely, "I'm thinking that I can't handle you looking at me like that."

Ellie's scold intensified in serious confusion. She never was great at taking a hint. "What do you mean?"

You looked away, fidgeting with your hands. "I mean if you keep looking at me like that, I'm not going to be able to control myself much longer."

Ellie's worried demeanor melted away, replaced by intrigue.  "And what's that supposed to mean?" She leaned a little closer, meeting your eyes as soon as you turned her way again.

You sighed, a short almost frustrated sound, "You know what I mean."

Ellie held her gaze, "Do I?"

You nibbled at your lip, "I hope so."

She laughed softly, a sound that indicated she was pleased with herself.

She reached for her stash box, pulling out a tobacco leaf wrap and a jar of freshly ground flower. Ellie felt your eyes track her every move as she tapped the flower into place and rolled the paper. She saw you bite your lip and tighten your grip on your pant leg as she ran her tongue along the wrap to seal it. She exhaled in amusement.

Your eyes were still following her as she lifted the blunt to her lips. The lighter flickered to life as she thumbed the igniter with her veiny, slender hands. Her face glowed for a brief moment once again, before the embers glittered bright orange as they did earlier. She held the smoke in her mouth for a short while before  opening her lips and letting the tendrils leave her, slowly floating up towards the ceiling. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see your mouth agape once again.

Ellie knew she was putting on quite a show, slowly feigning innocence and teasing you as she pulled you in. It felt so nice, not worrying about what she looked like when she got high. She didn't care about the way her hair never wanted to stay perfectly up, or how her freckles showed in the dim light, or how she felt like her chest was too small. She didn't care about how her teeth showed when she laughed, how her eyebrow scar cut up her face, about how pale she was, or how much she didn't like her hair color. It didn't matter that she felt like she had love handles or hip dips or slightly bony ribs or shoulders that were too broad. None of it mattered, there was no room to care.

You shook her from her haphazard thoughts when you said: "Are you gonna share or...?"

Ellie realized the glowing cherry was dimming a bit, and a few bits of stray ash peppered her black jeans. She hummed, "Mmm...yeah." She looked up at you again, a sly grin on her face. "Open your mouth."

You looked surprised, your eyes blinking at her, but you did as she said. You nodded slowly.

Ellie pulled a large inhale in, the cherry crackling vibrantly back to life. She never broke eye contact. She leaned in, looking at your slightly parted lips, and stopped a half inch from your face, exhaling the warm smoke into your mouth. Ellie watched you breath her in like your life depended on it.

She smiled at the way her music seemed to flex and flow to her inebriated mind, perfectly framing the moment, the Deftones wavering in the air itself. Your warmth was so close, the electric guitar filled every corner of the room, your eyes on her as she pulled away felt more intense than they had before. This moment felt like bliss.

Ellie heard you exhale the smoke and saw you blink up at her. The tension hanging in the air like the tendrils of smoke she had made.

Your giggle twinkled in her ears. "This weed tastes so dank," you smiled, looking away.

"It is supposed to have 'notes of gasoline'," Ellie mocked in a voice like a faux salesman, making air quotes with her fingers to exaggerate the statement.

Her heart swelled at the warm laugh from you she elicited.

"I wonder if it would make a person taste like that," you wondered aloud.

Ellie's eyes widened slightly. She knew what you were saying, the question floating in the air between you. All she had to do was pluck it from in front of her. She decided to humor you.

"Do you wanna find out?" Ellie looked at you from beneath her browbone, her lips quirking in self-satisfaction, an eyebrow raised.

"Fuck yeah I do," you said breathlessly.