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sierrale8ne · 2 months ago

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40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER EIGHT

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i��

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @h34rtsformilli @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

warnings substance use, infidelity, sexual content

kalena speakss 🪽! good morningggg ;) song for this chapter is BPW by jasmine sullivan, you’ll know when to play it!

June 2025 — Los Angeles, California

The lights are low in the studio this evening, as per usual whenever I’m here. I’m not the type to have multiple people in my space, usually it’s just me, Kaylee, and my producer. But tonight I get to be wonderfully distracted by Page Madison Bueckers.

Her phone is propped up on a bottle of Patron, some audio playing from it as she makes a TikTok in front of me. I’m fighting a laugh in the midst of rolling a blunt, because everything they say about her lack of rhythm seems to be true.

“Oh you’re annoying.” She laughs, picking up on my obvious amusement and mushing my face with her fingers.

“Hips don’t lie.” I giggle. “C’mon, no way you thought I wasn’t gon’ make fun of you.”

“You a bully. Ion know why I’m friends with you.”

“Because I’m just so pretty.” I reply jokingly.

Paige rolls her eyes at my statement, retaking her original seat in the rolling chair next to mine and shoving her phone in the pocket of her black Essentials sweatshorts.

If there’s any color I love on Paige, it’s definitely black. The darkness perfectly accentuates the tan of her skin and the bright blond of her hair and the blue of her eyes. She’s been wearing it more lately. Which I find odd, considering the blazing heat in California this summer.

I asked her to be here. No other reason than being alone in the studio is usually a recipe for disaster. She took up my offer gratefully, almost too grateful but I was probably overthinking it.

“You gonna let me hear some unreleased shit, or what?” Paige asked. Her chair slides closer to mine until our arms are touching. Our noses are close too, my eyes boring into hers. Purple rimmed wide framed glasses sit on her nose, making them look bigger.

I look away quickly, leaning towards the monitor in front of me. “I can, yeah.” I tell her, setting the blunt on the rolling tray. “If you leak it tho’ I’d have to kill you.” I joke as my eyes pass through all the possible unreleased and unfinished songs on the file.

I watch her take the substance into her own hands, packing and rolling it in places I didn’t get to reach yet. I would normally be pissed off, watching someone else roll my blunt as if I couldn’t do it myself. But the way her tongue darts out to lick it sealed, pretty and pink and soft, then her perfect fucking face has me mesmerized.

“Who taught you how to roll?” I laugh, honestly a bit shocked.

“I was in college for five years, you think I didn’t learn?” Paige looks back at me, fingers still sealing it like a second nature.

“You probably shouldn’t tell people you were in school for that long.” I snide and her elbow meets my ribs.

I take it from her hands gracefully when she finishes, putting it between my slightly chapped lips. Paige takes the lighter, striking the flame a few times until it lights and bringing the flame to the end of the blunt. Her blues are basically eating up my soul, the tip of her tongue peaking out slightly in concentration until I take the first hit.

The weed fills my lungs fast, and I take the blunt away from my lips, smoke clouding the air. Paige was still in season, and due to her recent shooting outbursts, subject to multiple rounds of drug testing. She wasn’t smoking with me tonight, rather taking a few shots from the liquor not too far away.

I laugh at the thought, ��they really been testing you?”

She nods, the light falling from her hands and back onto the desk. She’s so close, I can smell every note of her cologne. Lavender, some cedarwood.

“Literally this morning. As soon as I stepped off the court last night I got an email saying I got an appointment in the morning.” She chuckled.

To say Paige had been on a tear this month would be an understatement. 20 point games, double-doubles, off of crazy efficiency too. She’s shooting 57% from the field and 42% from three, but last night she shot almost perfect, literally, 10/10 on her first shots 13/15 on the game.

For someone who claimed to not be a big basketball fan, she has me watching and remembering her stats like i’ve been doing it for years.

“Okay, music.” She starts. “If you had to make a collab album with one artist, who would it be?”

I sit back and bit for her question, but the answer really wasn’t too difficult. “Frank Ocean, easily.”

“Really? I thought you’d say Drake or sum.” She chuckles.

“Him too!” I responded. “But Frank doesn’t make music with just anybody. If I get that, I’ll know I made.” I shrug. It’s a dream that’s a bit out of touch, he hasn’t put out music in years, but one can wish.

“Imma manifest that Frank feature for you, angel.” She smiles. Her hand reaches to brush my hair out of my line of sight before gesturing with it towards the monitor, “which one can I hear?”

I skim past all the music loaded up on the screen before clicking on a file, all the colorful waves pop up individually. The vocals, ad-libs, all the snares and drums. To me, it’s normal. I wasn’t a producer but after making music for so long, the technicalities become less and less overwhelming and more interesting.

“Wow.” Paige breathes.

“It’s a lot, I know.”

“Is it finished?” She asks me. I nod, shaking my hand side to side as to non verbally tell her ‘sorta’. The title reads BPW and yes it pretty much is finished, but I’m a perfectionist and I feel like most songs can always have more.

“You wanna hear it?” I question while looking her way. I take another drag from the blunt. “It’s kinda nasty tho’. The label only let me put two freaky songs on there, so this one got pushed back.”

“Only? You’re a freak, bro.” Paige replies. “Lemme hear it.”

The instrumental echos first when I hit play. Violin and bass, and then I remember I tried to avoid the piano for this song since most of my discography already is over taken by it. The intro is long, when I look over at Paige and she’s listening intently, I start to get nervous. “It’s still missing some thi—”

Her finger meets my lips, indirectly telling me to shut up. I sit there shocked. It’s soft, her finger, sliding down my bottom lip until her hand rests in my lap. It’s like i’m not even there, just another object in the room as she got consumed by the music.

I didn’t think I could be more turned on.

It’s the reason I write in the first place, the reaction and the feeling of absorption from my lyrics or my sound. But not many people around me get that. Paige so clearly does. It makes me feel warm, taken over with emotion because she sits there so focused, waiting for that first vocal.

—

Well shit, I think to myself when I finally hear the lyrics.

Maraye is crazy. She’s crazy for having me sit here and listen to her sing about sex while she wears those tight ass shorts, just days after telling me we are just friends. I can’t do anything about it.

My head slowly bows back and forth along with the sound of her voice. This song doesn’t deserve to be unreleased, it deserves to be in my library, on that playlist.

And even though we ain’t official

You know I ain't no regular girl

So tell me whenever I'm witcha

I got the best pussy in the—

I stare at her in awe, not just because of what I’m hearing but the way the smoke passes through her lips has me squeezing my legs together. My hand still rests in her lap lazily, I can’t will it to move, I don’t think she wants me to either.

It’s clear to me I have no self control. The other night, just minutes after dropping her off at home, I said I was done. Julian was a dickhead but that’s Maraye’s dickhead and I needed to respect it. Then here she goes, singing about how good she is in bed, and looking this fucking good. I need her. In all definitions of the word, I need her bad.

I stand up, needing some sort of space between us before I’m ripping every single thread of clothing on her body. I take a comfortable seat on the edge of the control panel, bowing my head with the melody. My heart rapidly beats in my chest, palms growing sweaty.

“You’re really good at this.” I breathe.

The song comes to an end, she presses a few buttons on her monitor that I don’t really care for. “Thank you, love.”

I force a large amount of oxygen into my lungs. Why did she have to say that? I was already struggling just being in the same room. Those damn eyes turning me into a mess between my thighs and here she goes.

A giggle escapes Maraye’s lips as she takes another hit. “Are you drunk?”

I shake my head. “Nah, ma. This tequila is hittin’ though.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm what?”

“Nothing.” Maraye mumbles. “Whatcha think about the song?” She asks me. She scoots the chair closer to me, wheels rolling against the hardwood until she’s seated between my legs.

“Only you could make singing ‘bout sex sound so perfect.” I comment. She really did sound angelic, the nickname so fitting. My arms are crossed over my chest as I size her up. It’s the first time I get a good look at her tattoos, normally I’m looking at her eyes or her thighs or shamelessly her tits. But the ink down her arm makes me crazy.

There’s one in particular that catches my eye. Linework of three faces overlapped, one blue, one green, and one red. I have no idea of the meaning, or what it stands for but the pop of color on her skin eats me alive.

Maraye shifts in her seat and a smile inches on her lips. Her hips moving in a way that intrigues me. “You alright there, angel?”

“I’m just fine, superstar. You?” She poses. I reach forward, taking the blunt from her hand and taking a drag. The way it clouds my brain let me know that I was not about to leave this room without making a move on her. I set it on the tray to my right, listing to her as she hums, “that song looked like it riled you up. I’m observant.”

I pull her in closer by the arm of the chair, if I couldn’t flirt I would sure as hell have fun teasing her. “I’m observant too. You been holding these legs together all night. Why?”

“Are you minding my business?”

“Yeah, ma. Now what?”

She doesn’t respond and now I want to know what she’s thinking. I want to get everything out in the open, all the things she wants to say but holds back on.

“The line is paper thin, Madison.”

“Like I asked, why you been sittin’ like this?” I ask again.

I know what I want her to say. I want her to tell me it’s me. That I got her so turned on that she’s sitting here with her legs practically glued together because it’s morally wrong to act on how she’s feeling. Even tell me that she wants to rip my clothes off as badly as I want to rip hers off.

Her foot taps against the floor, echoing off the walls alongside our in sync breathing. “I-uh. M’just crossed. Leave me alone” She begs, voice low almost like she’s shy. It’s cute.

“Jus’ crossed, baby? Y’sure?”

I don’t think i’ve ever been so forward with Maraye than I am right now. Everything running through my body right now is like a shot of adrenaline.

“Paige! You can’t be doing this to me right now.” She tosses her head back frustratedly. I’m stifling a laugh from where I stand. I knew I could get her flustered but this was too easy.

She looks back up at me, her eyes dark and slightly glazed over. The weed has her eyes rimed with red and oddly enough the smell it exudes from her is incredible. Nearly as intoxicating as the substance itself.

“Doin’ what?” I chuckle. “I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable, angel. You look tense.”

“You make me tense.”

I fake a pout. “Lemme fix it.”

“Why do you insist on not having a boundary or respecting mine?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever had boundaries, Raye.” I point out.

My hands instinctively reach for her own, standing her up so I’m not longer craning my neck to look at her. Still, the good four inches I have on her makes her eye me eagerly. Looking up like she’s giving in. “Paige we can’t.” Maraye sighs.

“So tell me to stop.” I muse.

“What?”

I trail my hands to her body. The left holding onto her hip while the other wraps around her waist. She doesn’t even try to fight me off, instead I swear she falls into me more. Her hand holds onto my bicep, avoiding eye contact with me.

I notice it. Every single act that is out of her normal. The stuttering and looking everywhere but me. She’s shy. I’ll take it as a good thing, that my actions have her reacting like a school girl.

“Lemme get you right.” I murmur.

Maraye’s mouth opens, then closes immediately after. My head pushes towards her, right where her neck meets her shoulder. I get a good whiff of her Chanel perfume.

“This is so wrong, P.” She whispers.

“Tell me,” I start with my lips up against her ear, “to stop.”

“The cameras.”

I look around the control panel, before spotting the on/off switch under the table. I flick it off, the red light by the camera in the corner blinks off.

“I—”

“Oh my God, just shut up.” I hum and it’s a matter of seconds before our lips are touching, moving against one another in sync.

It’s different than the first time. That one was slow, like we were still trying to figure it out. But this one? This one is hungry, fast and familiar. I can make out the taste of weed on her lips, tequila in the back of her mouth when my tongue reaches that spot.

Maraye’s hands are in my hair, tugging it between her fingers all hurried like I could slip away. Mine are everywhere. her hips, her thighs, her ass. I squeeze it before smoothing a hand over the area. A groan slips past my lips and into her mouth.

I’m pushing us away from the table, past all the chairs and wires until her back hits the leather couch behind us. I pull back, and her mouth is sucking on my tongue. I swear God himself would have to claw me off of her after that.

“Wanna take your clothes off.” I pant. My kisses move to her jaw, licking it before moving down her neck. I’m searching for that sweet spot, and when she moans in my ear I know I’ve found it.

It’s quite easily the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. Maraye is quite easily the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Her stunning brown skin and curls that tickle my face with each suck I give to her neck. The septum in her nose and tattoos down her arm. To make things harder for me she smells fucking incredible, and the feel of her plush thighs in my hands reduces me to nothing.

My knee meets the center of her legs, that spot that makes her arch into me. I reach for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head and it hangs off the arm of the couch.

“I wanna fuck you right here, angel.” I mutter against her warm skin. Maraye cups my face, pulling my lips back to hers eagerly. She licks at my bottom lip before slipping it into my mouth. I swallow up every moan she gives me, so damn desperate for more. My hand grips her breast that unfortunately is confined in that black sports bra she wears.

“Paige, fuck.” She gasps against me. Her hand leaves my face to pull my glasses off, they’re unbelievably foggy and I didn’t even notice, too busy tonguing her down to care. She holds them before kissing me again and biting my bottom lip.

“You’re fuckin’ nasty.” I sigh, pulling her closer.

Maraye moans my name when I push my knee deeper into her cunt. I can feel just how wet she is against my bare skin.

“Lemme have you, ma.” I grunt, suddenly felling very hot in the UConn hoodie I have on. “Show me how good that pussy is, baby. You said it’s the best, yeah? Prove it.”

It’s carnal the way I need her. Like my sole purpose for being put on this earth was to please her. I’ll do it. Happily. Hell, I’m begging for it.

“Fuck. God, P.” She hiccups, letting my hands travel wherever they can reach. They settle on her hips, playing with the waistband of her shorts while my tongue continues to clash with hers. God, it’s messy. Saliva sticky on my chin.

I’m about to dig into her shorts when the door handle fumbles. I sigh gratefully that it’s locked but then I hear it, the clicking.

—

The fact that I have to fight with myself on whether or not I should push Paige off of me is very telling of my behavior. Someone is messing with the lock on the door, so with what leftover strength I have, I pull away from Paige and push her back off of me.

She reaches for my face and wipes the saliva from my lips, giving me one more chaste kiss before sitting back on the opposite end of the couch. I search for my shirt, which has now made it’s way to the floor. By the time I toss it over my head and hand Paige her glasses back and fluff my hair so it is naturally falling over the hickeys I assume Paige has left on my neck, the door is swinging open.

“God damn, Raye. You coul— oh. I didn’t know you had someone else in here.”

It’s Kaylee, which makes me let out quite possibly the world’s biggest sigh of relief. I play with my bottom lip, hoping she can’t point out how swollen it is from Paige biting it.

Her taste, like cherries and a bit of tequila, has completely overpowered any other taste previously in my mouth. She’s taken over my entire body.

“Hey.” Paige greets her, awkwardly clearing her throat.

Kaylee smiles and waves before walking to the controls. She drops her bag in the seat I had just occupied earlier. She stands still, then looks up in the corner, the light by the camera’s that are almost always on suddenly off.

She flips the switch before turning to look at the two of us.

“Huh. Someone turned the camera’s off.” She comments.

“Weird.” I reply.

Really weird.

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

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dulciechi · 1 year ago

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tumblr finally told me “girl stfu”

The cave is narrower than they expect, barely big enough to fit a giant god like Kallamar. And it is dark beyond measure. No light from the distant sun reaches here. Only their own fire illuminates the cave walls, ignoring the shift in pressure as they dive deeper and deeper. There is no colorful coral, no kelp reaching for the light, not even tiny mindless fish. In this place, there’s only darkness and cold seawater. It seeps into their wool and grinds salt into their skin. The faster they get out of here, the better. After what feels like at least half an hour of swimming, the cave mouth widens into a strange stone antechamber. Two giant doors loom above them, their stone etched with runes and glyphs. Their pulse quickens. This is it. Kallamar’s secret Vault.

#cult of the lamb #cult of the lamb fanfic #narilamb #fandom #is the ‘lack of quality’ in the room with us right now? 😭#THIS WAS SO GOOD???#but i do hope you get better soon. cold season sucks :(#***now for chapter spoilers***#i wish there was a way we could just hide scrollbars #bc i can’t stop staring at them and crying when i see how close i am to the end while i’m reading lol #i start reading even slower like it’s gonna change the chap length or something #anyway #glad nothing happened while opening the door #all the fun happened inside 👌#ive noticed this before but i wonder if the fanatic is going to be important in the future?#there’s been two mentions of them as of this chapter (i think) and it’s so exciting #i’ve had my own hcs for the concept before (since i also like to envision they’re another sheep) but i’d love to see how others #portray them #also #no wonder neftis is all ‘there’s no such thing as love among gods’#girl was speaking from personal experience 😔#i still wanna see lamb and nari humble her tho #esp bc she’s probably underestimating lamb after their initial meeting #good thing lamb is aware of the song now tho (even if it comes with the awful truth of what really happened with nari)#i kinda love how utterly unaffected they are by threats at this point #just rolling their eyes at seti #and not even entertaining the idea of failure #their plan is always: ‘give scepter. kill neftis. rescue nari’#bitch has no backup plan 😭 it’s fun but im also worried for them hahaha #anyway go kick ass hamal. show seti who’s boss <3<3<3

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staybabblingbaby · 2 months ago

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Best Friend Protocol #12 (Blackmail part)

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: You're Felix's childhood friend, and you and he have been planning a visit to see him for his birthday for what feels like years now. Unfortunately, SKZ is a very busy group, and the week-long vacation you'd planned for doesn't seem possible. Until Felix decides to ask his bandmates a favor...

Word Count: All images, so N/A. Unless someone wants to make these accessible but I don't really know how.

Notes: I swear I meant to post more than 1 chap in Oct T^T Things just happened. I lived tho. SG got some updates tho! Love that for her. Anyways, to make it up to y'all, I'm queuing for Nov. I have two Chapters (including this one) ready to go, and I'm hoping to have at least 4 out, potentially up to 8 if I get REAL inspired and obsessed. But I have the plans all drawn up for 4. Also, I made a timeline for this fic! I know absolutely no one cares, but It's helped a lot, actually. If anyone is interested in it (Literally 1 person is all the validation I need) I'll post it! Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader.

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks

Additional Note: I'm always taking interaction requests. Just fyi

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

an: Fun fact- The stuff Lino quotes is from my blog. Direct quotes, too. Same for the ss. They are abt Hyunjin, Felix, and Han, in that order.

Beloved Worm List <3: @thatgirlangelb , @hyeon-yi, @velvetmoonlght, @missvanjiii, @hanniemylovelyquokka, @vegetablesarefuntables, @scribblesnsketches05, @kkamismom12, @alexateurmom, @baribaaari, @tayla2351, @heart-trees @unicornwhisperer666, @aalexyuuuhm, @stilldontknowhoiam, @brbwritingfanfic,

Perma Tag List <3 : @mbioooo0000

#skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fic #stray kids x reader #baby writes #skz fanfic #w.i.p fic #w.i.p #fake texts #skz fake texts #skz smau #smau #stray kids texts #stray kids smau #stray kids fake texts #skz texts #BFPSMAU

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honeyhae-svt · 27 days ago

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🎮 05 | Double Trouble-Maker 🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: Mentions of parental loss and illness (reader’s backstory), light emotional angst and introspection, subtle romantic tension (love triangle elements), intimate moment (making out in a car), light teasing and subtle jealousy. wc: 10,347 ♪ playlist ♪: my love (lee hi), arcade (duncan laurence), almost is never enough (ariana grande) a/n: nothing to say. if the plot isnt plotting, then feel free to leave. no smut this chap sorry. i want to focus on their emotional conflict. enjoy tho !

You stayed quiet for too long, your jaw clenched and face burning red as you listened to Jeonghan and Wonwoo trade thinly veiled barbs at each other. The others didn't even bother hiding their reactions. Seungkwan was failing miserably to hold in his laughter, his muffled cackles loud enough to make your ears burn more. Hoshi, on the other hand, didn't even try—he was doubled over, howling like this was the best thing he'd seen all week. The rest of the group glanced at you occasionally, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

But it wasn't until that moment that you snapped.

Jeonghan had casually leaned in, slinging his arm over your shoulder as he delivered yet another snide comment, this time laced with an overly sweet tone.

"Remember that day, Wonwoo? Oh, wait, you wouldn't know. You weren't there, but she was."

Wonwoo's response was immediate, sharp, and dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, and I'm sure you didn't overcompensate at all, Hyung."

It was too much.

"That's it!" You shoved Jeonghan's arm off your shoulder and stood up so abruptly your chair screeched against the floor. Both men froze, eyes snapping to you as your voice cut through the room. Without another word, you turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind you.

The room was dead silent for half a second before Seungkwan leaned over, whispering loudly to Vernon, "I'm betting five thousand won (3.50 dollars ig) they both go after her."

Vernon smirked, crossing his arms. "Bet."

As if on cue, Jeonghan and Wonwoo moved at the same time, practically tripping over each other in their rush to follow you. The door swung shut behind them, leaving the group in a fit of laughter.

Outside, your hands were trembling as you fumbled with your phone, trying to text Seungkwan to tell him you were leaving early. But you couldn't even hit send. Your chest was tight with frustration, embarrassment, and a simmering anger you couldn't quite sort out. They'd been throwing intimate moments around like some kind of twisted inside joke—right in front of everyone.

You thought maybe, just maybe, they'd leave you alone after that.

You were wrong.

"Wait!" Jeonghan's voice was the first to cut through the sound of your hurried footsteps.

"Slow down," Wonwoo added, his tone quieter but equally persistent.

You didn't stop, didn't even look back. But their footsteps quickly caught up with yours.

"Y/N." Jeonghan's hand brushed your arm, but you yanked it away, spinning around to face them. Both men skidded to a halt, looking startled by the fire in your eyes.

"Do you ever stop?" you snapped, glaring between them. "I mean, do you two actually hear yourselves? You're embarrassing! You act like children—and for what? To see who can one-up the other? Congratulations, you both win. You made me look like a complete idiot back there."

They exchanged a glance, and for once, neither had a snarky comeback ready.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "Look, if you two are going to act like this, at least talk it out. I don't care what your problem is—just deal with it. But don't drag me into it."

Before either of them could reply, you jabbed a finger toward the nearest empty room. "In there. Now."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You're bossy when you're mad. It's kind of cute."

"Jeonghan, I swear to God—"

"Fine, fine," he cut in, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "We'll talk."

As soon as you left for them to talk, the room plunged into silence, the weight of unspoken words settling like a heavy cloud.

Jeonghan was the first to break it, pushing off the wall he'd been leaning on, his expression sharp but amused. "Well," he started, his voice cutting through the quiet, "that went well."

Wonwoo didn't bother responding at first, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. The tension between them was palpable, and Jeonghan wasn't one to let things simmer for long.

"So," Jeonghan continued, his tone casual, but his words edged with purpose. "Let me guess—you've got a thing for her, huh?"

Wonwoo's scoff was immediate, though his grip on his hoodie tightened. "That's rich coming from you," he shot back, his voice low but biting.

Jeonghan smirked, tilting his head. "What can I say? She's... captivating. You don't meet someone like her every day."

Wonwoo's glare could've burned a hole through him. "Stop talking about her like she's some shiny new toy you're trying to claim."

Jeonghan's smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing. "And what about you? You've been staring at her like she's the only person in the room since this tournament started. You're not exactly subtle, Wonwoo."

Wonwoo opened his mouth to snap back, but Jeonghan wasn't done. "Let's cut the crap," he said, his tone turning serious. "This isn't about me versus you. It's about her. And you're the one acting like you don't know what you want."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Wonwoo looked like he might lash out. But instead, his jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"Maybe it is about her," he admitted, his voice quiet. "But that doesn't mean I trust you."

Jeonghan's expression softened, though the sharpness in his eyes remained. "I'm not asking you to trust me," he said evenly. "I'm asking if you're ready to be honest about how you feel. Because if you're not..." He let the sentence trail off, shrugging lightly before adding, "...then don't blame me for stepping in."

Wonwoo's fists clenched at his sides, his silence heavy with conflict. Finally, he muttered, "I don't want to hurt her."

Jeonghan's demeanor shifted, his usual cockiness giving way to something more genuine. "Neither do I," he said quietly. "But maybe we should stop pretending this is about her feelings, and start being honest about ours."

The silence that followed was deafening, neither man willing to look the other in the eye.

And for the first time, it wasn't clear who was going to walk away first—or if either of them would at all.

You sat on the bench outside the venue, fiddling with the straps of your bag, trying to calm the swirl of frustration, embarrassment, and confusion in your head. Jeonghan and Wonwoo? Together in one room? Talking things out? It felt like a fever dream.

Still, as you glanced back toward the building, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Maybe—just maybe—they were finally clearing the air and dealing with whatever macho competition had been brewing between them.

You imagined them sharing grudging apologies, hashing out their differences, maybe even shaking hands. You chuckled to yourself at the thought of Jeonghan being earnest for once and Wonwoo dropping his stoic, sarcastic walls. Yeah, right.

Little did you know, what was happening inside was... entirely different. You guessed.

Jeonghan leaned against the wall, watching as Wonwoo paced back and forth like a man on a mission. "You're awfully restless for someone who claims to have things under control," Jeonghan quipped, his smirk returning.

Wonwoo shot him a look, but it lacked his usual bite. "You're not exactly calm either. You've been throwing out every lame joke you can to avoid talking seriously."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. "Maybe because talking seriously isn't exactly my thing. But hey, you're the one who dragged me into this 'let's talk' moment."

Wonwoo stopped pacing, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he snapped. "I'll say it." He hesitated, then finally blurted out, "She's amazing, okay? She's smart, funny, infuriatingly stubborn, and—and—"

"Ridiculously hot?" Jeonghan finished for him, his tone so casual that Wonwoo nearly threw something at him.

"Will you stop? I'm being serious."

"And I'm agreeing with you. Have you seen her? Of course she's all those things."

Wonwoo groaned, sitting down and burying his face in his hands. "This is pointless. We're not solving anything."

Jeonghan shrugged. "What's there to solve? We both like her. That's obvious."

"Yeah, but it's not like she's picking sides," Wonwoo muttered.

Jeonghan's grin turned sly. "Or maybe she's just waiting for us to make the first move."

Wonwoo glared at him. "You're impossible."

Jeonghan tilted his head, a flicker of something more genuine crossing his face. "You know, for what it's worth... I don't want to screw this up for her. I don't think you do either."

Wonwoo nodded slowly. "Yeah. But that doesn't mean I'm backing down."

Jeonghan chuckled. "Didn't expect you to." He held out a hand. "Truce?"

Wonwoo eyed the hand suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," Jeonghan said, his smirk returning. "I just think we owe it to her not to make this more complicated than it already is. At least for now."

After a moment, Wonwoo took the hand, shaking it firmly. "Fine. Truce."

You glanced up as the door to the venue opened. Jeonghan and Wonwoo stepped out, walking side by side—together.

Your eyes widened. "Wait... are you two... good now?" you asked hesitantly.

Jeonghan flashed you his signature grin. "Of course! We had a nice little heart-to-heart."

Wonwoo nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. We talked it out."

For a moment, relief flooded you. "Oh, thank god. I thought you two were going to kill each other."

Jeonghan slung an arm around Wonwoo's shoulders, his grin widening. "Nah, we've got bigger things to focus on."

Wonwoo shot him a warning look, but Jeonghan just winked at you.

You frowned, sensing something was off. "Wait... what exactly did you guys talk about?"

"Oh, nothing," Jeonghan said breezily, stepping ahead toward the parking lot. "Just priorities."

"Yeah," Wonwoo added, walking past you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Important stuff."

You stood there, dumbfounded, as they both walked off, their casual banter already picking up again.

Priorities? Important stuff?

You didn't realize it, but the two men had left that room with one unspoken agreement: they weren't just rivals anymore. They were rivals with one very specific goal.

You.

You exhaled deeply as you settled into your gaming chair, finally back home. After today's debacle, you needed a distraction. Firing up your streaming setup, you set up a Valorant session for your followers—nothing too serious, just some casual games to blow off steam.

The familiar rush of excitement hit as your viewers flooded into the stream chat. Messages rolled in:

- "omg you're streaming finally!!!" - "Who won the LoL tournament?!! spill tea pls queen" - "bestie u look kinda stressed what happened?? 👀"

You chuckled, ignoring the questions. "Hey, guys! Let's keep it chill today, okay? Just gonna play some Valorant. No, I'm not spilling any tea!" You winked at the camera, though your mind briefly wandered back to Wonwoo and Jeonghan.

Then the notifications hit. Two new players joined your party.

jeonghaniyoo_n has joined the party everyone_woo has joined the party

You froze. "Oh, no."

And just like that, Jeonghan's voice chimed in through the lobby chat. "Hi there, cutie. Streaming without us? That's not very nice."

Wonwoo's quieter but sharp voice followed. "Didn't think you'd leave us out of the fun."

Your viewers exploded in the chat:

- "wait JEONGHAN AND WONWOO ARE HERE??!!!" - "no way this is the dream team 🔥" - "omg flirting on main i cant handle this"

You rolled your eyes. "Guys, please. Let's just play the game."

But before the match could start, the party grew. Minghao, Hoshi, and Seungkwan joined in one after the other, their voices filling the lobby with chaos.

"Yah, why didn't you invite us too?!" Hoshi whined.

Minghao snickered. "I saw Jeonghan and Wonwoo join and figured I'd save kitsunya from... whatever this is."

Seungkwan? Already cackling. "This is gonna be good. Everyone ready to carry these two clowns?"

The first round started smoothly—almost.

Jeonghan immediately locked in Jett, while Wonwoo chose Omen, both vying for attention as soon as the game began.

Jeonghan: "Kitsu, I'll be your duelist today. Stay behind me; I'll protect you." Wonwoo: "Or you could stay with me. I'll make sure you don't get flanked."

You rolled your eyes. "You guys do realize we're playing Valorant, right? Not some cheesy shit?"

Seungkwan, from across the map: "Kitsunya, please, just mute them. I'm begging you."

But the chaos only grew.

In one round, you got caught in a crossfire because Jeonghan and Wonwoo were too busy arguing over whose callout you should follow.

"Kitsunya, go A!" Jeonghan shouted. "No, B is safer!" Wonwoo countered. And you? Dead in the middle of the map.

"Dude, I'm literally streaming," you groaned, your viewers spamming laughing emojis in the chat.

By the third match, Jeonghan and Wonwoo weren't even subtle anymore.

Jeonghan: "Kitsunya, did I ever tell you your crosshair placement is just... perfect?" Wonwoo: "She doesn't need compliments. She just needs someone to watch her back—unlike some people who keep peeking mid for no reason."

Jeonghan: "You jealous, Wonwoo?" Wonwoo: "Only of how bad your aim is."

Minghao sighed audibly. "I don't think I've ever played a game this exhausting."

Hoshi laughed, clutching his sides. "Oh, come on! This is comedy gold!"

Seungkwan? Already losing it. "Kitsunya, I'm watching your chat. They're saying you've got two idiots fighting over you while the rest of us are hard-carrying."

Sure enough, the chat was in flames:

- "JEONGHAN STOP FLIRTING OMG" - "wonwoo is a SIMP confirmed" - "pls these boys need to chill lmaooo" - "team chaos for the win ✨"

After a particularly close match where Minghao clutched the win (while the rest of you spectated), you muted the mic for a second and turned to address the camera.

"Guys, I don't even know what to say anymore. Is this my life now?"

Of course, Jeonghan overheard and chimed back in. "Why? Don't you like the attention?"

Wonwoo snorted. "I think she's had enough of your attention."

You muted them again, the chat exploding as you facepalmed.

- "HELP she muted them both LMAO" - "you deserve better bestie" - "team minghao carrying this team, no competition"

Finally, you sighed and looked at the camera. "I think I need new teammates."

The room erupted into laughter again, and for once, you couldn't help but laugh along. At least the chaos made for good content—even if Jeonghan and Wonwoo didn't realize just how obvious they were being. They were being such idiots.

You woke up with a groan, your phone buzzing on the nightstand like it was trying to break the sound barrier. You weren't in the mood to deal with whatever the hell was going on online, so you silenced it and dragged your ass out of bed. After a long stretch, you shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing your go-to coffee mug, already mentally preparing for the shitshow ahead.

You sat down with your cup, eyes half-lidded, but something told you this wasn't going to be a peaceful morning. You grabbed your phone again, but this time, you actually opened it.

Big. Fucking. Mistake.

The stream from last night was everywhere—TikToks, memes on X, clips making the rounds like wildfire. There you were, caught in the middle of Jeonghan's flirtatious nonsense and Wonwoo's unimpressed deadpan. Fans were shipping the hell out of you, writing captions like "Who's gonna win her heart? 🥽" and "Not them fighting like she's the last healing potion in Valorant."

You clicked your tongue, scrolling through the flood of messages and tags. #StreamerLoveTriangle. #JeonghanFlirtsAgain. #ProtectWonwoo. Your inbox was a warzone of comments, DMs, and donations from people who just wanted more of "the chaos trio."

You weren't sure whether to laugh or scream. On one hand, this was kinda flattering, but on the other, your stomach churned. You had built this stream to be about you—not some messy love triangle. You were a goddamn boss in this space, not a walking rom-com plot.

The moment you opened your group chat, you could already hear Seungkwan's annoying voice in your head.

[#important stuffs-general] pledis_boos: 🤣 Did you SEE the donations rolling in last night? We're buying sushi next time and YOU'RE paying. ho5hi_kwon: Nah, you're buying us all steak. I saw those superchats. Some guy sent $500 to "push Jeonghan into the friendzone." kitsunya: im not buying you shitheads anything. especially you, hoshi the brainrot king xu_minghao_o: Capitalism at its finest. Also, @/Jeonghan, tone it down next time. She's going to start charging you for emotional labor. jeonghaniyoo_n: I'm a natural entertainer. Don't hate me because I'm charming. everyone_woo: Can you all stfu? This server is literally labelled only for important stuff. min9yu_k: Dont act like Kitsunya's not important to you, hyung

You let out an exaggerated sigh, sinking deeper into the couch. You needed a minute, and by "minute," you meant the next several hours of avoiding this shitshow.

The donations were off the charts, though. More money than you'd ever seen in your entire life—700,000 won (500 dollars) to push Jeonghan into the friend zone? That's almost worth the emotional labor, right?

Still, the situation left a bad taste in your mouth. You weren't some spectacle to be gawked at. You didn't ask for this attention, and you certainly didn't want to be anyone's entertainment. But damn, it was hard to ignore the fact that you'd made more money in a single night than you usually did in a whole week of streams.

You tossed your phone on the couch, leaning back with a dramatic groan. You were so done with this today.

But, of course, you knew you'd have to go live again sooner or later. And, hell, it was kind of fun watching Jeonghan squirm.

Later that evening, after the chaos of the stream finally died down, you were sitting on the edge of your couch, your mind racing. You hadn't replied to anyone—your friends' group chat, the millions of tags, or even the flood of donations. You couldn't stomach it. The lines between your private and public life were being erased faster than you could keep up, and you hated it.

You needed to talk to Jeonghan and Wonwoo—really talk to them. You weren't some character they could use for entertainment just to rack up donations. It was getting out of hand, and you weren't going to let them keep pushing your boundaries.

So you called them both into your apartment.

When they arrived, you didn't sugarcoat a damn thing. You crossed your arms, giving them both your best death glare.

"So," you said, your voice sharp, "the stream went great, right?"

Jeonghan's usual grin was nowhere to be found. He shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, but we didn't mean to—"

You cut him off, not giving an inch. "Great? It was a circus, Jeonghan. You and Wonwoo acting like I'm some kind of prize to be won? You think that's funny?"

The tension in the room thickened. Jeonghan opened his mouth, but no words came out. Wonwoo stood there, his usual calm expression replaced by something a little more serious.

"You both think this is just content—and sure, the donations are insane, but at what cost?" You took a step closer, your voice unwavering. "My privacy? My sanity? You two bickering over me like I'm some damn reality show prize? That's not cute. Not to me."

Jeonghan's posture relaxed slightly, and his eyes softened. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to cross any lines. I just... we got caught up in the moment."

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. "Caught up in the moment? You're pushing my limits for donations, and you don't even realize it."

Wonwoo finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "We didn't mean for it to go this far. But we both... we're drawn to you. It's not just about the stream."

The words hit you harder than you expected. You blinked, thrown off balance by the honesty in his voice. "Seriously? Just because you're 'drawn' to me doesn't mean you can act like this. You think I want my whole life to be some circus show? I'm not here to entertain you."

Jeonghan stepped forward, no longer his usual cocky self. "It's not a game to me. I like you. But I respect your boundaries. We just... we got carried away. The donations, the attention... it got to our heads." His eyes searched yours, sincerity now replacing his teasing. "But I'm not here to push you into anything you don't want."

Your breath caught in your throat. The shift was sudden, and it left you feeling off-kilter. Jeonghan, the same guy who had been teasing you relentlessly, now stood there, his expression serious.

You turned to Wonwoo, whose quiet demeanor now seemed almost withdrawn. "And you," you continued, your voice softening but still firm. "I'm not your damn 'perfect match' just because you think I'm different. This is real life, not some idealized fantasy."

Wonwoo exhaled, rubbing his temple like he was trying to make sense of everything. "I get it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to make things feel like that. I was... I just didn't want to miss my chance.

You let out a long breath, still frustrated but oddly relieved at the same time. "This isn't about missing your chance, or trying to win me over. It's about being real with each other. You two want to make this work? Fine. But it's going to take more than flirting in front of a camera."

Jeonghan took a step closer, his eyes soft but serious. "I'm willing to do that. For you. I'm sorry for making it seem like this was all just for the fun of it. It's not."

"I don't know if I believe you," you muttered, your arms still crossed. "You can't just act like this one day and pull back when it suits you."

Wonwoo stepped closer, his gaze softening as he spoke. "We won't. But we can't ignore what's between us, either. It's just you. You're not like anyone else we know. That's why it's hard to stop."

The vulnerability in his voice was unexpected, and for a moment, you felt the weight of his words. "So what, you two think this is all about me?" You threw your hands up in frustration. "I'm not some fucking character for your streams. If we're going to do this, we need boundaries. I don't care how much money's involved. My private life isn't content for your views. Got it?"

They both nodded, the reality of your words sinking in. Jeonghan looked at you, a bit hesitant but resolute. "Got it. We won't push you like that again. But we still want to be here... with you."

Wonwoo met your gaze, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "We'll figure this out. Slowly. No more games."

You didn't reply immediately, letting the moment hang between you. Maybe it wasn't perfect. Hell, maybe it never would be. But for now, it felt like a start.

You took a deep breath, letting the words spill out before you could second-guess yourself.

"Lust or sex isn't love, you know."

The room felt heavy with tension after your last words. Jeonghan and Wonwoo stood there, their usual confidence replaced with an unsettling quiet. You could almost feel their thoughts running a mile a minute, but you were too fed up to care about their reactions right now.

"I don't care if you two think you're 'drawn to me,'" you said, cutting through the silence. "Lust, attraction, whatever the hell you want to call it—it's not love. And you need to get that straight."

Jeonghan looked like you'd just slapped him, his mouth opening and closing like he didn't know what to say. Wonwoo, on the other hand, was completely still. His usual deadpan expression didn't change, but you could tell you'd hit a nerve.

You took a step forward, looking each of them in the eye. "What you've been doing, this whole game of who can get a rise out of me, it's not funny. And sure, the donations are great, but what does it cost? My privacy? My boundaries? I'm not some prize for you both to fight over. If you're thinking it's some kind of competition—"

You paused, trying to find the right words without making it feel too dramatic.

"It's not," you finished, your voice steady. "If you two really want something real, then we need to be clear. I'm not interested in playing games. I'm not going to sit here while you both try to one-up each other in front of a stream. It's messy, and frankly, it's getting old."

There was a long silence as both of them took in your words. You could almost see them processing it, like they were trying to figure out how they'd gotten it so wrong.

Finally, Jeonghan spoke, his tone softer than usual. "I get what you're saying. I wasn't thinking about it that way. I just... I don't know. I thought it was all just part of the fun."

You shook your head, trying not to roll your eyes. "This is not fun, Jeonghan. And I don't need you two acting like you're competing for me. If that's what you want, I'm out. It's not worth it."

Wonwoo, who'd been unusually quiet, finally spoke up, his voice low. "You're right. I didn't want to make you feel like that. I don't think of you like that—like some kind of game to win. But I guess I got caught up in it too."

You exhaled, not feeling as angry anymore, but still frustrated. "It's not just about being 'caught up'—it's about respect. I don't want to feel like I'm just part of the stream, or like I'm some character you're both fighting over to make things more interesting. I'm me. And if you both want anything more than this weird back-and-forth, you need to respect that."

Jeonghan's eyes softened, and you could see he was taking this seriously now. "You're right," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel like that."

Wonwoo's gaze was steady as he nodded. "Me neither. I was just... I don't know. But I get it now."

You stared at them for a moment, trying to gauge whether they were just saying what you wanted to hear or if they actually understood. It was hard to tell. But the shift in their demeanor made you think they weren't just brushing you off this time.

"I'm not asking for you to choose me or whatever," you added, your voice a little more relaxed. "But if we're going to be in each other's lives—really in each other's lives—this mess? It stops now."

There was a pause before Jeonghan finally broke it with a light, almost sheepish smile. "No more games, then. I'll keep that in mind."

Wonwoo let out a small breath, his usual reserved demeanor softening. "I'll be more careful."

You could tell they weren't exactly thrilled, but they were starting to see things from your side. And that was good enough for now.

The next morning, the bright glow of your monitor was replaced by the sterile glare of fluorescent office lights. You glanced at Jeonghan, who was a few steps ahead, already adjusting his tie as the two of you stepped into the lobby of the Yoon Corporation building. It was almost comical, seeing the same man who had bantered his way through last night's chaotic stream now radiating an air of professional detachment.

You, on the other hand, had swapped out your usual casual wear for a tailored blazer, heels that were already killing your feet, and an iced coffee that you'd clung to like a lifeline on the commute.

"Do you ever miss it?" you asked suddenly, breaking the silence as the elevator doors closed behind you.

"Miss what?" Jeonghan didn't look up from his phone, already skimming emails before the day had even started.

"The gaming world," you said, leaning against the mirrored wall of the elevator. "You know, when the most stressful thing you had to deal with was a toxic teammate or a bad internet connection."

That earned you a faint smirk. "You mean back when I could sleep in past seven and didn't have shareholders breathing down my neck? Can't say I don't miss it sometimes."

His words were light, but there was an edge to them that you didn't miss.

"Must be weird," you mused. "You go from carrying teammates in games to carrying an entire company."

Jeonghan finally looked up, his smile sharp and teasing. "Are you saying I carried you last night? Because I distinctly remember you being the one who couldn't land a headshot."

"Okay, first of all," you shot back, jabbing a finger at him, "I was carrying the content, thank you very much. No one was watching for your kill streaks—they were watching for my sass."

"True," he admitted, his grin widening. "But I still got MVP."

Before you could fire back, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal the pristine, glass-lined halls of the executive floor. The playful energy between you fizzled out almost instantly, replaced by the weight of professionalism. Jeonghan straightened his posture, tucking his phone away as he strode forward like he owned the place. Technically, he did.

You followed closely, the sound of your heels clicking against the marble floors reminding you that this world—his world—was a far cry from the chaos of your streams.

As you entered his office, Jeonghan pulled out a chair for you at the meeting table, his playful smirk replaced by the faintest trace of a frown. "You've got notes on the marketing proposal, right?"

"Yeah," you said, placing your laptop on the table and flipping it open. "It's solid, but I think the ad campaign could use more focus. The messaging is all over the place."

He nodded, sitting down across from you. "Good. Rip it apart in the meeting later. They need to hear it."

For a while, the two of you worked in silence, the sound of typing and the shuffle of papers filling the room. But as you glanced at Jeonghan—his brows furrowed in concentration, his tie slightly askew—you couldn't help but feel the weight of the contrast between the two versions of him. The playful streamer who cracked jokes and flirted shamelessly, and the overworked executive who carried his family's legacy on his shoulders.

"Hey," you said quietly, breaking the silence. "If you ever want to...you know, talk about it. The whole balancing-two-worlds thing. I'm here."

Jeonghan looked up, his expression unreadable for a moment before softening. "Thanks," he said, his voice sincere. "But for now, let's just survive this meeting."

It was late—too late for anyone but the cleaning crew to still be in the office. Yet here you were, leaning against the doorframe of Jeonghan's ridiculously large office, staring at him while he sat slumped over his desk. He didn't even notice you at first, his hair falling messily into his face as he glared at the papers spread out in front of him.

You cleared your throat. "You do know that no one will care if you file those tomorrow, right?"

Jeonghan flinched, startled out of his trance. He looked up at you with tired eyes that lacked their usual mischievous glint. "What are you still doing here?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

"I could ask you the same thing," you shot back, stepping further into the room. "You've been here since morning, Jeonghan. You're going to burn out if you keep this up."

He gave you a half-hearted chuckle, leaning back in his chair. "What, worried about me now?"

You folded your arms, narrowing your eyes. "I am when you look like you've aged ten years overnight. Spill it—what's going on?"

For a moment, you thought he'd brush you off with a joke like he always did. But to your surprise, he sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. "It's nothing, really. Just...family stuff. Work stuff. You know how it is."

"Yeah, no," you said, pulling up a chair and sitting across from him. "That vague crap doesn't work on me. Try again."

He hesitated, his fingers drumming against the desk as he avoided your gaze. "I didn't want to be here," he admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "In business, I mean. This wasn't the plan. Not for me."

You blinked, caught off guard by the admission. "Then why—"

"My family," he cut in, his tone sharper now. "This company isn't just a company to them—it's a legacy. Something my father and grandfather built from the ground up. And as the only son, I'm the one who has to carry it forward. No matter what I wanted."

The weight in his words settled heavily in the room, and for once, you didn't know what to say. Jeonghan—the guy who made everything seem easy, who always had a snarky comeback or a teasing smile—looked utterly defeated.

"I didn't want to leave gaming," he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "That world, those friends...they were mine. I was good at it, too. Better than good. But none of that mattered when my dad got sick. I had to step up, whether I liked it or not."

You leaned forward, resting your arms on the desk. "And now you're stuck here, running a company you never wanted to run?"

He laughed bitterly. "Pretty much. Don't get me wrong—it's not like I hate it. I've gotten used to it, I guess. But some days...I just wonder what it would've been like if I'd said no. If I'd been selfish."

For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the city outside. Then you reached out, hesitating only slightly before placing a hand over his. "You're not selfish, Jeonghan. Far from it. You gave up something you loved for the people you care about. That's not weakness—that's strength."

He looked up at you then, his eyes searching your face. "Sometimes, I wish I had your courage. You don't let anyone push you around, not me, not Wonwoo, not the internet. You know who you are."

You snorted. "Yeah, well, it's easier when you don't have a billion-dollar company breathing down your neck."

His lips quirked into a faint smile, the first genuine one you'd seen all day. "Still. I envy it."

You sat back, giving him space to collect himself. "For what it's worth, you're doing a damn good job, Jeonghan. Even if you didn't choose this, you're still making it work. And that says a lot."

The room fell quiet again, but this time it wasn't heavy. It was the kind of quiet that settled between two people who understood each other in a way they hadn't before.

"Thanks," he murmured after a while, his voice softer now. "For staying. For listening."

"Don't mention it," you said, standing up and stretching. "But seriously, go home. You're no good to anyone if you keel over from exhaustion."

He chuckled, the sound lightening the air. "Yes, boss."

The car ride to your mother's house had been quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional directions you mumbled. Jeonghan didn't mind the silence; in fact, it gave him a rare moment to reflect. His mind kept wandering back to earlier, to the ease with which he'd talked about himself—about his family, his regrets, the suffocating weight of being the "perfect heir."

He hated talking about that stuff. With anyone else, he'd brush it off with a charming laugh or a clever deflection. But with you? All it took was one offhanded question, and suddenly, he was spilling years' worth of baggage like it was the most natural thing in the world. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were scrolling through your phone, utterly unaware of the storm you'd left behind in his head.

When the car rolled to a stop in front of your mother's house, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle, but paused when you noticed him watching you.

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jeonghan hesitated. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, so he settled for his usual fallback—a smirk. "Nothing. Just wondering if you're secretly a therapist in disguise. You've got this way of making people talk."

You snorted. "If I were a therapist, I'd be charging you for the emotional labor."

"Touché," he said, but his tone was softer, more thoughtful. "Seriously, though... thanks. For earlier. I don't usually talk about that kind of stuff."

"Noted," you said, stepping out of the car. "I'll make sure to grill you harder next time."

He laughed, leaning back in his seat as he watched you walk up the driveway. You were halfway to the door when you turned around and gave him a little wave. "Drive safe, okay?"

Jeonghan blinked, caught off guard by the warmth in your voice. It wasn't the first time you'd said something so simple, yet it hit differently tonight. Like you actually meant it. Like you actually cared.

As you disappeared inside, he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as a strange, unfamiliar feeling settled in his chest.

He was falling for you. Hard. And it scared the hell out of him.

How did you do it? How did you manage to get the words out of his mouth, the truths he kept locked away from everyone else? You hadn't even been trying, and yet, he'd surrendered so easily. The thought alone made his head spin.

Shaking his head, Jeonghan put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across his face. He didn't want to think about it, not now. But no matter how hard he tried to push the thought aside, one thing was painfully clear.

He was in trouble.

After settling in at your mother's house, you found yourself in the kitchen, helping her prep for dinner. She hummed softly to an old ballad playing on the radio while you chopped vegetables, the steady rhythm of the knife oddly therapeutic. It felt good to be home—grounding, even. Here, there were no streams, no trending hashtags, no chaos. Just the scent of your mother's cooking and the warm, familiar creak of the wooden floor beneath your feet.

"You've been busy, haven't you?" your mom asked, glancing at you with a knowing smile.

"Something like that," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. "Work's been... hectic."

"Hectic is good, though, right? It means you're doing well."

You nodded, though the weight of Jeonghan's confession earlier still lingered in the back of your mind. Before you could dwell on it too much, your phone buzzed on the counter. You wiped your hands on a towel and picked it up, frowning at the caller ID.

Wonwoo.

Your mom raised an eyebrow. "Work?"

"Kind of," you muttered, stepping out of the kitchen to take the call. "What's up?"

"Hey," he greeted, his voice unexpectedly light, though you could hear a hint of something else in his tone. "You free tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night? Yeah, I guess. What's up?"

"I... wanted to talk to you about something. It's nothing serious, but it's been on my mind for a while now." He sounded like he was hesitating, but you didn't think much of it.

"Okay? You could just tell me now," you teased, sitting up a little straighter on the couch.

Wonwoo chuckled, but it was low and almost nervous. "Nah, I think it's better if we talk about it in person."

You raised an eyebrow. "Alright, fine. You're being weird about this, but sure, let me know when and where."

"I'll pick you up around 7, and we'll head out," he said, before adding in a more casual tone, "Trust me, you'll like it."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips anyway. "Okay, okay. I'm intrigued. See you then."

As you ended the call and walked back to the kitchen, your mom gave you a curious look. "Boyfriend trouble?"

"God, no," you said, laughing a little too loudly. "He's just... a friend. A very particular friend."

"Hm," your mom said, clearly unconvinced but smart enough not to push it further. She handed you a bowl of chopped onions and said, "Whoever he is, he seems to care about you."

You froze for a moment, her words echoing in your head. Shaking it off, you took the bowl and returned to your task. "Let's not get carried away, okay? He just called cause he wanted to talk about something."

But even as you said it, you couldn't shake the faint tug of something more complicated—something you weren't ready to confront yet.

As you finished chopping the onions, your mind couldn't help but drift back to the phone call. "A very particular friend," you muttered under your breath, barely suppressing a smile. It was weird how much truth there was in that. You knew exactly what your mom meant, but you weren't ready to acknowledge it—at least not out loud. The last thing you needed was to have a conversation about feelings. You didn't even know what you felt, anyway.

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was a text from Wonwoo: "Hey, don't eat too much tonight. I've got something special planned for tomorrow."

You frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?" you muttered, reading it over again. You stared at your phone, a little more confused than before. This wasn't like Wonwoo.

You glanced at your mom, who had a knowing smile on her face as she busied herself with the stove. "You okay?" she asked, not looking up.

"Yeah," you said quickly, though your voice was slightly off. "Just... a little strange, that's all."

"Mmhm," she hummed, clearly not fooled. "You've got a big night tomorrow. Try not to overthink it."

You rolled your eyes. "I'll try."

But as you wiped your hands on the dish towel, you couldn't help but feel that familiar flutter in your chest. Tomorrow wasn't just another night. You had no idea what Wonwoo had planned, but somehow, you knew it was going to change everything.

Work had been surprisingly productive for once—no emergencies, no last-minute crises, just a steady flow of emails and meetings that didn't make you want to pull your hair out. By the time 5:45 rolled around, you were already packing up your things, eager to leave on time for once.

Jeonghan walked into your office just as you slung your bag over your shoulder. His sharp suit jacket was draped over one arm, and his tie was slightly loosened, giving him that effortless, annoyingly attractive look that made people do double takes. He raised an eyebrow. "Leaving early? That's new."

"First time for everything," you replied, brushing past him toward the door.

Jeonghan followed, falling into step beside you. "Big plans?"

"Not really," you said casually, even though you were mentally prepping for whatever mysterious thing Wonwoo had planned. "Just... meeting a friend."

Jeonghan hummed, clearly unconvinced. "Friend? As in, Wonwoo?"

You stopped walking, turning to face him. "How do you know that?"

He shrugged, his tone infuriatingly nonchalant. "Lucky guess. Besides, he doesn't exactly hide the fact that he likes dragging you around."

"It's nothing," you said, feeling oddly defensive. "He just wanted to talk about something."

Jeonghan tilted his head, studying you in that way that always made you feel like he could see straight through you. "At six in the evening? Dressed like that?" His gaze flicked down to your outfit—a simple yet flattering blouse and jeans combo that you'd definitely spent more time picking out than you'd admit.

Your eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said, holding up his hands innocently. "Just... seems a little formal for 'talking about something.'"

You let out an exasperated sigh. "It's not a date, Jeonghan."

"Sure," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was fighting back a smirk. "Whatever you say."

You started walking again, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. But of course, Jeonghan wasn't done. He fell back into step beside you, his voice annoyingly casual. "You know, if it was a date, you could just admit it. It's not like I care."

That made you stop again, spinning around to face him. "I just said it's not a date."

Jeonghan raised his hands again, his smirk fully forming this time. "Relax. I believe you."

"No, you don't."

He grinned, the kind of grin that made you want to smack it off his face. "You're right. I don't."

You rolled your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a retort, and stormed off toward the elevator. Jeonghan watched you go, his smirk fading into something softer as he muttered under his breath, "I really don't."

The next day, you were halfway through touching up your makeup when Wonwoo texted: "Outside."

With a final glance at your reflection, you grabbed your bag and headed out. Wonwoo was leaning against his car, scrolling through his phone, but when he looked up and saw you, he froze. For a second, you thought something was wrong—until you caught the faintest flicker of surprise on his face.

"You okay?" you asked, tilting your head.

Wonwoo blinked, clearing his throat. "Uh, yeah. You look..." He hesitated, his hand reaching for the car door handle. "...nice."

You raised a brow, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. "Wow, such a charmer. Are you always this smooth?"

"Only with very particular friends," he shot back, his lips quirking into a rare smile.

The drive to the restaurant was comfortable—light banter here, a shared laugh there. It wasn't until you arrived, stepping into the upscale restaurant with dim lighting and chandeliers, that it hit you.

"Wait." You turned to him, eyes narrowing. "This is not a casual hangout."

Wonwoo shrugged, clearly amused. "I never said it was."

"You didn't say it wasn't either!" you hissed, suddenly hyperaware of how underdressed—you felt.

"It's just dinner," he said calmly, guiding you toward your table. "Relax."

As you sat across from him, the tension in your chest eased a little. The atmosphere was warm, inviting, and the smell of food made your stomach growl. The two of you settled into conversation, talking about everything from the latest games to the ridiculous memes your viewers had been sending.

It wasn't until halfway through the meal, between bites of perfectly seared steak, that the conversation took a softer turn.

"So," you said, wiping your mouth with a napkin. "What's with all the mystery? Why'd you drag me out here like this?"

Wonwoo looked up from his plate, his gaze steady but thoughtful. "I wanted to talk to you about something," he admitted, his voice low enough to make you lean in slightly.

"Okay...?" You tilted your head, waiting.

He hesitated for a moment, his fork idly poking at a piece of asparagus. "Have you ever felt like... you're not cut out for something, even if everyone else thinks you are?"

The question caught you off guard. Wonwoo wasn't the type to talk about his feelings—not openly, anyway. You put your fork down, sensing this was something important. "What do you mean?"

He exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "The streams. The attention. It's... a lot sometimes. I like gaming. I like hanging out with you guys. But the rest of it? The constant eyes on me? The comments, the pressure to be entertaining all the time... I'm not sure it's for me."

You frowned, the weight of his words sinking in. "Wonwoo..."

"I'm not saying I'm quitting," he added quickly, sensing your concern. "But I've been thinking about stepping back. Maybe doing less. I don't know."

The air between you grew quiet for a moment, not awkward but contemplative.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" you asked gently. "You know you don't have to keep this all to yourself, right?"

He gave you a small, wry smile. "I guess I didn't want to burden anyone. And I thought I could handle it."

"Newsflash, genius," you said, pointing your fork at him. "You're allowed to have limits. You're not a robot."

His lips quirked up again, this time softer. "I guess you're right."

"I'm always right," you said smugly, earning a quiet laugh from him. "But seriously, if you need space or whatever, just say the word. We'll figure it out."

"Thanks," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I mean it."

The moment lingered, a quiet understanding passing between you. For a second, you wondered if this was what your mom meant last night—about someone who cared. But you shook the thought away, unwilling to overthink it.

"Well," you said, breaking the silence. "If this is your way of buttering me up to cover for you on stream, you owe me another meal. And dessert. I'm talking cheesecake."

Wonwoo laughed, the sound low and genuine. "Deal."

The cheerful noise of the arcade filled your ears as you stepped inside—buzzing machines, flashing lights, and the occasional triumphant shout from someone who'd just beaten a high score. Wonwoo handed you a cup full of tokens, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"You've got two hours to prove you're better at games than me," he said.

"Better at arcade games," you corrected, narrowing your eyes. "I'm already better at regular ones."

"Debatable," he quipped, leading you toward the nearest set of machines.

For the next hour, it was pure chaos. Racing games, air hockey, a ridiculous basketball shooting contest where you nearly tripped over yourself trying to keep up with the timer—Wonwoo didn't hold back, his competitive streak pushing you to try harder than usual.

But it wasn't until the claw machine that things got serious.

"Watch and learn," you said, kneeling slightly to get a better view of the controls. Inside, a small fox plushie sat tauntingly close to the edge, and you were determined to get it.

"You're going to miss," Wonwoo teased, leaning lazily against the machine.

"Have a little faith," you said, focusing as the claw moved into position. You hit the button, watching with bated breath as the claw closed around the fox. For a moment, it held tight—but as it began to lift, the plushie slipped free and tumbled back into the pile.

"Ugh!" You groaned, slumping dramatically.

"Told you," Wonwoo said, his voice betraying his amusement.

"Okay, genius, your turn," you challenged, stepping aside.

Wonwoo cracked his knuckles like a pro and slid a token into the machine. With meticulous precision, he maneuvered the claw, dropping it squarely onto the fox. The claw grabbed it—firmly this time—and lifted it out of the pile without a hitch. When it dropped the plushie into the prize slot, you stared, dumbfounded.

"How—what—" you sputtered as he handed you the fox with a smug grin.

"Years of practice," he said casually, like it wasn't the most impressive thing he'd done all night.

"You are so obnoxious," you muttered, clutching the plushie like a trophy. But you couldn't help the smile spreading across your face.

As you moved to another game, you found yourselves side by side, shooting at pixelated zombies on an old arcade shooter. It was easy to slip into the rhythm—aim, shoot, laugh whenever one of you missed an obvious target.

Between rounds, Wonwoo glanced at you. "So... are you feeling okay? About earlier, I mean."

You gave him a small smile, keeping your eyes on the screen. "I should be asking you that. You were the one pouring your heart out over dinner."

He shrugged, shooting a zombie in the corner. "I guess I feel a little better. Thanks for listening, by the way."

"Anytime," you said lightly. Then, after a pause, you added, "You know, you're not the only one who got into streaming for a reason."

Wonwoo didn't look at you, but you could tell he was listening. His hands stilled on the controls for a moment before resuming. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said, keeping your tone casual. "It's not as deep as your fame thing, though. I just... needed a distraction. Something to keep me busy." You took a deep breath, trying to keep the weight of your words from dragging you down. "After my dad died, it was just me and my mom. She's all I have left, and when she got sick, I had to find a way to help. Streaming was just... something I could do while keeping my other job."

Wonwoo didn't say anything at first, but you felt his eyes on you, his attention unwavering. "That's a lot," he said softly. "I didn't know."

You shrugged, shooting another zombie. "I don't really talk about it. It's not like it changes anything. She's doing okay now, but... I can't lose her, you know?"

"I get it," he said after a moment. "Maybe not exactly, but... I get it."

You glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "Thanks."

The rest of the game went by in companionable silence, the conversation shifting back to lighter topics as you moved from one machine to another. By the time you stepped out of the arcade, the fox plushie tucked securely under your arm, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

Wonwoo walked you to his car, his hands in his pockets. "So," he said, glancing at you with a small smile. "How does it feel to lose at every single game?"

"I did not lose every game!" you protested, jabbing a finger at him.

"You didn't win, either," he teased, opening the passenger door for you.

"Next time, I'm destroying you," you said, climbing in.

"I'll hold you to that," he said, his voice tinged with warmth.

As he started the car, you found yourself glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. For someone who claimed to hate attention, Wonwoo had a way of making you feel seen—and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

The ride back was quiet, the kind of silence that felt comfortable, with the occasional hum of a soft melody from the car's radio. You fiddled with the fox plushie on your lap, sneaking a glance at Wonwoo as he drove. His face was illuminated by the glow of passing streetlights, his profile sharp, his jaw set with quiet focus.

"You're really good at this whole 'being nice' thing," you teased, breaking the silence.

Wonwoo glanced at you, one hand steady on the wheel. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. I mean, dinner, the arcade, this," you said, holding up the plushie. "It's almost suspicious. Who are you, and what did you do with the guy who can barely give a compliment without looking like he's in pain?"

He laughed softly, the sound low and a little self-conscious. "Maybe I'm just full of surprises."

"Clearly." You leaned back in your seat, a small smile playing on your lips. "Still, thanks. I needed tonight more than I realized."

Wonwoo didn't respond right away, but you caught the faint curve of his lips, the way his fingers tapped against the steering wheel as if he was working up to say something. When the car finally rolled to a stop in front of your building, he cut the engine and turned toward you, his gaze lingering just a second too long.

"What?" you asked, suddenly hyperaware of how close the two of you were in the quiet stillness of the car.

He shook his head slightly, his lips tugging into a faint smile. "Nothing. Just... you're different when it's just us."

"Different how?" you challenged, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

"Less guarded," he said, his eyes searching yours. "It's nice."

Your breath hitched, his words cutting through your usual defenses. For a moment, you just stared at him, the air between you thick with something unspoken—something you weren't sure either of you was ready to name.

"Wonwoo—"

But before you could finish, he leaned forward, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His lips brushed yours tentatively at first, as if testing the waters, but when you didn't pull away, the kiss deepened. His fingers slid into your hair, his touch firm but not demanding, and you found yourself leaning into him, your hands gripping the front of his jacket to pull him closer.

The world outside faded away—no noise, no lights, just the two of you in the quiet cocoon of the car. His kiss was unhurried but purposeful, the kind that made your heart race and your mind go blissfully blank. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing a little heavier, your foreheads resting against each other.

"Well," you said after a beat, your voice slightly shaky. "That's... definitely one way to end a night."

Wonwoo chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Don't," you interrupted, your voice firm. "Don't apologize."

He smiled at that, his usual calm demeanor slipping back into place. "Okay."

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the delicate balance of what had just happened and what it might mean. But then he pulled back slightly, his hand dropping to his lap as he gave you one of those rare, boyish smiles that made your chest ache.

"Goodnight," he said softly.

You nodded, grabbing the plushie and opening the door. Before stepping out, you turned back to him, your eyes meeting his. "Goodnight, Wonwoo."

As you closed the door and headed up to your apartment, you could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours, the quiet intensity of the moment lingering like a secret you weren't ready to share with the world just yet.

As you disappeared into the building, the door shutting behind you with a soft click, Wonwoo leaned back against his seat, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. For a long moment, he just sat there, his hands resting loosely on the steering wheel, his thoughts an absolute mess.

It wasn't just about the kiss. Sure, the feel of your lips on his, the way you'd pulled him closer like you didn't want the moment to end—that was enough to make his pulse quicken even now. But it was more than that. He wasn't just attracted to you—no, this went beyond the warmth of your touch or the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn't paying attention.

This was something deeper, something he hadn't been prepared for.

He'd always been careful with his emotions, keeping them in check like a well-guarded secret. He thought he knew the limits of what he felt for you, that he could compartmentalize it, keep it safe in the category of "just friends" or "casual." But tonight? Tonight had thrown all of that out the window.

The way you'd shared pieces of yourself with him, the quiet strength beneath your teasing, the vulnerability you'd let slip when you thought he wasn't watching—it wasn't just endearing. It wasn't just charming. It was devastating in the best way. Because somewhere between the banter and the games, between the shared smiles and the quiet truths, he'd started to fall for you.

Really fall.

Wonwoo rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a low groan. "Shit."

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not now. Not when you were clearly dealing with so much—your mom, your job, the shadow of your dad's memory. He'd seen the way your smile faltered sometimes, the way you carried the weight of your world like it was stitched into your skin. And then there was Jeonghan.

Jeonghan.

The thought of his old friend sent a sharp pang through his chest. He wasn't blind—he'd seen the way Jeonghan looked at you, the way his playful banter turned softer, more intentional, when it came to you. And you? You seemed drawn to him in a way that made Wonwoo's chest tighten, even if he tried to ignore it.

"Great," he muttered to himself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Just great."

He glanced at the building one last time before starting the car, the soft purr of the engine breaking the heavy silence. As he drove off into the night, one thought lingered in his mind, unsettling and undeniable:

It wasn't just a crush anymore. It wasn't just attraction. It wasn't just anything. It was you. And he was falling faster than he'd ever expected.

Meanwhile, upstairs, you were pacing your living room, the fox plushie still clutched tightly in your arms. Your lips still tingled faintly from the kiss, your heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it had no business doing. You groaned, throwing yourself onto the couch.

"What the hell just happened?"

You replayed the night in your mind—the dinner, the arcade, the stupidly thoughtful way he listened to you talk about your mom and your dad. The kiss. God, the kiss. It had been... unexpected. Intense. And, worst of all, it had felt right. Too right.

But you didn't have time for this. Not now. Not when your mom needed you, not when work was pulling you in a million directions, and certainly not when Jeonghan—damn it, Jeonghan—was still in the picture, his presence looming in your thoughts like a shadow you couldn't escape.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, snapping you out of your spiral. It was a text from Jeonghan.

DM from [worst boss in the world] Jeonghan: Don't forget we have a meeting at 8 tomorrow. Don't be late.

You stared at the screen, your stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. This was too much. Too complicated. Too... everything.

Flipping the phone over, you buried your face in the plushie, letting out a muffled groan. "Get it together," you muttered to yourself. But the words felt hollow, the knot in your chest refusing to loosen.

Because no matter how much you tried to focus on the things that mattered—your mom, your work, your responsibilities—your thoughts kept circling back. Back to Wonwoo. Back to Jeonghan. Back to the tangled mess of emotions you didn't know how to sort through.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were in over your head.

The soft glow of your bedroom lamp cast long shadows on the walls as you sat cross-legged on your bed, aimlessly scrolling through your phone. The fox plushie sat beside you, its little black eyes almost mocking you with their innocence.

You stared at your phone screen, re-reading a text from Wonwoo that you’d seen earlier but hadn’t responded to yet.

DM from [fuckass bitch dickhead] Wonwoo: Did you make it home okay?

It was simple. Straightforward. Just like him. But the knot in your chest only tightened as you read it, your thumb hovering over the keyboard.

You: yeah, im home. thanks again for dinner. and… everything.

You hit send before you could overthink it, tossing the phone onto your pillow like it might explode. Pulling the plushie into your lap, you rested your chin on its soft head and let out a long sigh.

Tonight had felt like something shifting, like a weight you hadn’t even realized you were carrying had been lifted. But with that lightness came something heavier—something you weren’t sure you were ready to name.

Your phone buzzed again, and for a second, you thought it might be Wonwoo. But it wasn’t.

Jeonghan: Leaving work early for “dinner plans” now? Should I be jealous?

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the faint twitch of your lips. Typical Jeonghan—playful with just enough edge to make you second-guess if there was something more beneath the words.

You: oh, please. dont make it weird. Jeonghan: I’m not. Just checking. I’d hate for our star employee to get distracted.

You could practically hear his voice, that calm, almost teasing tone that never failed to keep you on your toes. And yet, there was something in those words that lingered—like he wanted to say more but wouldn’t.

Tossing your phone aside, you flopped back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. Between the tension at work, your mom’s health, and tonight’s… whatever it was with Wonwoo, you couldn’t afford distractions. But that didn’t stop them from creeping in anyway.

And as the night wore on, one thought kept echoing in your mind, quiet but insistent.

This wasn’t just about them anymore. This was about you.

a/n: i definitely am aware of how terrible the plot is. anyway, i tried my best? hope you all liked it !

thank you for supporting me !

to be added on the taglist, you must reblog/comment on any of the series (part time lover) and you'll be automatically added on every updates.

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THANK YOU FOR STAYING ILY GUYS SO MUCH MWUAAAHH ! <3

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rai-knightshade-art · 1 year ago

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😂 well luckily its also not as bad as it could be (so long as we dont look at the lists of previous Wrappeds + the fics posted in those years *sweats nervously*). For fic titles specifically, there're only two... Aka the two based on my Top Song two years in a row 😅 and counting chapter titles, there're two more published and one wip (chapter 1 of the Big Damn Fic, aka the main Top Song fic uses a different song in my list for it's title, and one of my Bradyverse fic collection stories also uses a longtime fave song that made it into my top 100 again, + the second unreleased chapter of, again, the Big Damn Fic™ uses yet another song from the top 100). Miraculously, despite several of my fics being named from favorite songs, none of them made it into this year's top 100 😅

....I'm gonna ask how many of your fic titles are in your Spotify wrapped knowing full well that is not a mirror I want to view my own self in 😅

😅

So, it might not be as bad as I thought. From 2023 there are only four published (and 7 wips) that are also on my spotify wrapped list, which isn't that bad. And! they're only lyrics from the songs and not the actual song titles themselves. I feel like that's enough to be exonerated.

Now I've gotta ask, how did you fair?

#tumblr buddies #for the record the songs are:#this love tv (top song with two fics under it--one of those is just the ending of chapter 2 released separately tho for the record)#i hear a symphony (cody fry) aka the song that named Chapter 1 of the Big Damn Fic (its the perfect song for a chap about a guy--#--who composes scores for a living)#and Love Me Like You Do (for the bradyverse collection fic--specifically its the 1st fic/chapter of the bunch)#(its the 'jack finally returns from the kovacs mission and reunites with mac in the war room fic' to be more specific)#and finally: (Can't Help) Falling In Love With You provides the title of the as-yet-unreleased Chapter 2 of the Big Damn Fic™#(the pov character has Trust Issues™ that chapter 1 dude had already managed to help her work thru a bit but they still rear their heads-#-a bit when he reappears in her life after breaking up and being apart for 2+ years. yet she cant help falling back in love with him)#(its mutual and the issues that separated them are no longer issues so! it works out!)#(now if i could just get the middle part of the damn thing written....)#spotify wrapped #reblogs

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justporo · 1 year ago

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i came uP WITH ANOTHER JUST NOW Tav has a bad dream about Astarion dying and is getting irrationally protective- Astarion must find a way to reassure that no, he is NOT going to randomly keel over, and after proceeding to Make It Worse with things like "it was just a dream" ends up resorting to trying to make Tav laugh to lighten the mood

My dear mushy, yet again you present me with a wonderful idea. This struck a chord with me for the last few days because I was feeling a little anxious and thus very much in the mood for some angst. So here you go! Also remember how I said I was taking a breather? I am! But I still love writing too much to not do it… Also this very self-indulgently helped me with some of my anxiety these past days. (Note tho: I am neither diagnosed with anxiety or a an expert, I can only describe what I can relate to and can imagine, just to put it out there)

Pairing: Astarion / Fem!Tav (You)

Warnings: Talk of trauma and nightmares, descriptions of some violence and death

Wordcount: 2,3k

Tav wakes from repeating nightmares about Astarion. She sneaks out of bed in an attempt to hide it but gets caught by Astarion who immediately notices something is wrong and wants to comfort her.

It‘s where my demons hide (I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you)

You woke from your trancelike meditation. On your back, you felt paralysed for a moment, your heart still heavy with dream images that filled you with icy dread. You couldn’t move and felt a single hot tear running down your cheek as a silent sob left your chapped open lips.

The images were still vivid in front of your eyes: Astarion, full of blood, falling over, his face distorted in pain, agony and desperation in his ruby eyes, panickingly grabbing for you; and then: life leaving his ruby eyes until they were only hollow.

And in your dreams you screamed and raged with all your force trying to reach him in time, to prevent what was happening, to at least hold his head in your lap as life passes from him. Never reaching him before it was too late.

The nightmares had come for quite some time now. They always followed the same pattern - and so did you: waking up in the middle of your ‚night‘, freezing from cold sweat, tears running and desperately trying to not wake Astarion.

Because you knew it wasn‘t real. There he was, right beside you. Softly breathing in his own dreams. His face so peaceful and relaxed.

You felt an incredible urge to grab him and kiss him awake to truly know he was there and fine. You just wanted to know that whatever you had dreamt: it wouldn‘t happen, it didn‘t happen; he was alive and well and next to you.

You sat up and felt the goosebumps all over your body and you shuddered. Starting to rub your arms you looked over to where Astarion was. And he was indeed peacefully slumbering - or deeply meditating as was the custom for you elves. You spent quite some heartbeats to watch him - how his chest slowly rose and fell, how a single white lock fell onto his forehead, how his facial expressions softly changed as he was dreaming.

Your heart ached and you couldn‘t shake the dread that kept hold of you. It sat deeply in your bones by now, hands around your throat and closing it‘s fingers. You quickly started to get out of bed, grabbing Astarion‘s shirt that was still laying on the floor in front of the bed and threw it over your head. You felt that the sobs were coming and you wanted to be out of here before the vampire caught onto it - he had enough to deal with, so you wouldn‘t burden him with your brain harassing you with its bad, irrational nightmare fantasies.

The soft pat-pats of your naked feet being the only sound as you walked, you left the bedroom and went down to the kitchen. There you grabbed some of the leftover milk from the day before and then went into the living room. As you lifted one of the thick brocade curtains you saw that it was already pretty dark outside. Some blue was still to be seen in the sky but it was surely and quickly to be chased away by the moon and the stars.

You drew the curtain away from the tall window and sat down in the alcove. Drinking your mug of milk your mind was still on your nightmares. You felt the wound up coil of anxiety in your stomach - it was bad this time. It surely would take some time before you would have calmed down completely. The tension was still way to present this time, making your foot that was on the floor tap nervously while you kept feeling restless.

„My sweet, it‘s way too early to be up…“ The voice of your subject of worry made you whip your head from looking out the window to Astarion. He was standing in the doorframe, sheets messily wrapped around his hips. He looked very drowsy and tired and not fully awake - a very rare look and mood for him.

„Also is that my shirt you‘re wearing because rawr, if I dare…“, his words trailed off when he realised that something was not quite right.

He saw the tension in your body, noticed the unnecessarily hard grip on your mug and your restless foot. Immediately, he was fully awake and rushing over to you: „My love, what is it, what‘s wrong?“ He sat down beside you and pulled you into his lap - no room for protest. His ruby eyes were clouded with worry, brows furrowed and his mouth in a tense line.

You tried to just shake your head and smile at him to assure him that everything was fine, you‘d just woken up a little early. But your body was traitorous, your eyes filled with tears and you could feel your chest start to heave - the urge to let out your sobs and howl in agony almost unbearable.

And as Astarion softly moved a strand of your reddish-brown hair behind your ear and then let his thumb softly wander over your cheekbone, then over your lips and then placed it on your chin lightly, it became too much to bear.

Sobs came and shuddered through your whole body, tears flowed openly. Astarion grabbed you and held you tightly to his chest. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him back hard - really having to feel that he was there. The vampire carefully placed his chin on the top of your head and softly swayed you from side to side. He said nothing for a while only humming softly - an old elven lullaby -, knowing that nothing he could put into words would make a difference in this very moment - he just held you. Because he knew what it felt like and had had to go for it alone, two centuries of nightmares, and he‘d never wish on another living soul having to go through something like this with no one there to spare you a little solace. This and the way you could feel his chest slightly vibrate while humming calmed you down slowly.

„Having nightmares again?“, Astarion whispered softly when the acute shudders of grief had calmed down a little. You burrowed your wet face at his chest, not wanting to admit that he had caught you. „Don‘t deny it, my love, don‘t think I didn‘t notice you getting up in the middle of the day and sometimes only returning hours later“, he continued. You could basically hear that his brows were furrowed. With a soft nudge on your shoulders he pushed you a little from his chest so he could take a look at you: „I‘m not one to pry and I respect your privacy, Tav, but I‘m worried. When was the last night of a full rest for you, hm?“ His eyes were so full of warmth and worry that you were sure yours were immediately filled with immense guilt. But you were still reluctant, having promised yourself to keep these problems your own.

Astarion softly cocked his head. „Don‘t you think, just a little bit, my love, that I deserve to know? Wouldn‘t you like to know? I bet if it‘d been me you would have already wreaked all Nine Hells‘ havoc upon me to find out what‘s bugging me“, he said while his tone turned sassy slightly. One eyebrow was raised, signature smirk was now turned on at least to half force.

And he knew you well and he was right, that bastard.

You cleared your throat. „It‘s nothi-“, you started. Astarion‘s face immediately dropped: eyes half-lidded, lips pouting. „We can play this the easy way, my heart, or the hard one - I have all the time in the world“, he threatened but his tone was still soft.

You sighed in desperation and looked up to the ceiling. Then you let your gaze drop. You had withdrawn your arms from around him and now nervously pressed down on your one palm with the thumb of the other hand. „I keep dreaming you‘re dying - and I can‘t do anything about it“, you admitted flat-out but did not look up.

„That‘s it?“, Astarion responded. Now you looked up - did he just say that like it was nothing? You kept staring at him in confusion and you surely felt anger rise up inside you. The vampire‘s gaze jumped from yours to the side and back, obviously not grasping what was so harrowing. When you kept staring, he said: „Well, do you have any idea how often I dream about stuff like that happening to you - and me for that matter? And I‘m here, am I not? It‘s irrational, nothing is wro-“ „You insensitive prick“, you yelled and weakly hit him on the chest with your flat hand.

„Do you know how it feels? Watching you die - vividly- over and over again! Covered in your own blood and I can do NOTHING! Only watch you as the life flows from your body…“ The tears were back and you could see how through your blurring vision Astarion‘s face changed from surprise to shame.

He pulled you in again: „I‘m sorry.“ This time he borrowed his face in your hair - you could feel how his face scrunched in agony as he kept squeezing you. „I‘m so sorry, I… didn‘t know how it is for you…“

You lifted your head from his chest with a gasp. The sobs had subsided once more and you were now at this awkward hiccupy phase of a really bad cry. „It‘s like… something burning in my chest“, you said, emotions still crushing over you, wanting to let it all out this time; to rid yourself of it if possible. Your hands rose to your chest, one grabbing the other. „Sometimes it‘s constant, for days on end, a constant buzz. Sometimes it claws its way up to my throat and I feel this pressure. And it‘s just sitting there, reminding me of the fear I have. And at worst it‘s like this impending doom - it holds my heart in its hand and it squeezes from time to time to make me hurt and my heart can only flutter against it like a hummingbird in a cage that‘s way too small. I don‘t know how it feels for you, but that‘s how it is for me…“ You squeezed your hand so hard it hurt - but still not even remotely close to the hurt you felt in your chest sometimes.

Astarion softly grabbed your hands with his and looked at you, sorrow in his eyes. „Well, if it wouldn‘t be so sad that would almost be poetic“, he replied with a sad smile. „I know the feelings you describe well. Too well. Perhaps I‘ve grown too accustomed to it to no longer relish their absence“, he explained his eyes slowly drifting from yours into a gaze that was a thousand leagues away. And now you understood his reaction a little bit better: his was one of an animal knowing nothing but abuse and imprisonment. While yours had barely scratched the surface of the sorrows of this world.

„Astarion“, you whispered softly, withdrew one hand from his and touched your fingers to his face, pulling him back to you - to the here and now.

The vampire closed his eyes for a short moment. When he opened them again he‘d come back to you. „It was still an insensitive reaction of me, for that I apologise.“ „You shouldn‘t have to feel like that or even get used to it. And I‘m sorry I shouted at you“, you answered with a whisper. You felt guilt now.

„No, my love, it was absolutely right to call me out on that and if it helps: it‘s getting better. Slowly, but better. And I‘m sure these storm clouds will pass for you too“, he answered and pulled your face to his, leaning his forehead against yours and his hand softly cupping your cheek. Warmth filled his ruby eyes again and a soft smile danced on his lips.

„Now, I propose whenever you wake with a horrendous nightmare you poke me in the side so the following yelp and curse tell you that I am still very much alive - or unalive for that matter, you get it - and myself and here with you. Promise?“, he spoke and his eyes widened as he made you look into his eyes.

„Only if you do it too“, you answered as you felt some more sobs threateningly bubble up in your chest; this time they weren‘t in sorrow though.

„Only if you promise to not smother me with your pillow when I raise you from your precious and much needed beauty sleep, my love“, Astarion answered with a big smirk now. You pushed away from him but couldn‘t stop yourself from laughing at the banter: „You‘re such a dick sometimes.“ Astarion just laughed dirtily in response - nothing you didn‘t tell him at least three times a day. „Yes, and you‘re a hag sometimes, my sweet“, he replied with a grin, fangs showing, ignoring the obvious contradictory statement he had just made.

You stuck out your tongue at him and as you did it you realised that he must‘ve very well known what he was doing. The tension and anxiety had actually left your body for good. You hoped it would stay this way. And you hoped Astarion might feel the same. Grabbing his hand, you leaned back against his chest, snuggeling up to him. You pressed your spread fingers against his, watching how his hands and fingers were quite a bit larger than yours.

There was still much to talk about, to unravel, to work through; for both of you - but maybe not tonight. Maybe it was enough that you unraveled just a tiny piece tonight. You had so many more nights to slowly get to the rest.

Astarion stared at your hands that pressed together, obviously lost in his own thoughts. But then he smiled and crossed his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand reassuringly: „Now, promise?“ „Promise and promise“, you replied solemnly and waited for Astarion to say it back. „Now, you say it!“, you said pushingly and squeezed his hand.

The vampire rolled his eyes but with a smile on his face, twisted your joint hands and pressed a kiss on the back of your hand: „Promise!“

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