#Same thing if every part is wrong and impossible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eunseoksimp · 2 days ago

Note

is there going to be a part two of west coast 🥲🥲🥲 i need them to finally get together or reader to move on and wonbin realize what he lost

after months of deleting and rewriting and an absurd amount of overthinking, part 2 is finally here. i love this fic so much and i’m glad you guys enjoyed part one, here’s to hoping you enjoy this too :)

p.s this is now a three part series because this part was way longer than i expected it to be

Pairings: Lead Singer!Park Wonbin x Bass Guitarist!Reader

Genre: Angst, Songfic

Description: falling for park wonbin was inevitable—like chasing a song you’ll never finish. he’s magnetic under stage lights and even more dangerous when they dim, leaving behind glances that linger too long and touches that feel too much like promises. you told yourself that night meant nothing, but some things don’t stay buried. now, every song you write feels like him, and you’re not sure how much longer you can pretend otherwise.

Warnings: alcohol consumption (again), gut wrenching heartbreak (you have been warned), a tension filled kiss, wc is somehow 24k.

read part 1 here

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the final show of the tour should’ve been electric—alive with the roar of thousands, the kind of rush that settled deep in your bones and lingered long after the last note faded. the crowd’s energy surged forward in waves, pulsing beneath the weight of the stage lights, each scream carving itself into the air like static desperate to cling to something solid.

but tonight, it felt distant, hollow in a way that no amount of sound could fill—like trying to chase the echo of a song that no longer belonged to you.

your fingers flexed around the neck of your guitar, the strap digging faintly into your shoulder, but even the familiar weight felt wrong—too heavy, too much, yet not enough all at once. every movement was automatic, drawn from muscle memory you couldn’t shake, but there was no spark beneath it.

not when he was there, standing just feet away, the bright stage lights catching in the tousled strands of his hair, painting him in hues of gold that felt blinding and unreachable.

park wonbin.

even in the middle of a stage, with thousands of eyes on him, he made it seem like the whole world had narrowed to fit the edges of his silhouette. his head dipped low, fingers curling around the mic stand as the rough edge of his voice slipped into the air, wrapping around the crowd and pulling them under as easily as breathing.

every note felt deliberate, the kind of performance that left no room for hesitation, and you hated the way your eyes traced the lines of his frame as if tethered there, unable to look away.

wonbin stood at the very edge of the stage, the crowd stretching endlessly before him, but it felt as if the entire room funneled into that single point—him.

the mic dangled carelessly in one hand, his fingers curling around the metal with the same ease he wore in everything he did. his other hand raked through the damp strands of his hair, pushing it back just enough for the stage lights to catch along the sharp curve of his jaw, painting him in fragments of silver and gold.

he looked untouchable—impossibly perfect, as if he existed just a breath outside of reality, shimmering at the edges like something your mind could only conjure at night, in dreams you wished you didn’t have.

his smile was a weapon—bladed and bright, slicing through the thick air and leaving a trail of casualties in its wake. you could see it in the way the crowd responded, how the front row leaned in just a little closer, how the sound of screaming filled every hollow part of the room. it shouldn’t have reached you, shouldn’t have cut so deep, but it did and you felt it settle somewhere beneath your ribs, sinking into the fragile parts of you that you’d thought were buried beneath layers of stage lights and sound.

this was the man you’d written everything for—the melodies, the lyrics that spilled from your hands late at night when sleep felt too far away. the chords you’d strummed until your fingertips were raw, hoping the weight of your heart might somehow carry across the strings. you had poured yourself into each note, crafting the very shape of him through the songs you bled onto paper, driven by a love that tangled itself so deeply into your music that it felt inseparable from who you were.

but he hadn’t seen it.

not the way you saw him.

wonbin existed just beyond reach, lingering at the edges of every song, every glance that held for too long in the quiet spaces between rehearsals. and when you had dared to close the distance—to lay your heart bare in a way that felt terrifying and inevitable all at once—he hadn’t crushed it with words or sharp rejection. no, that would’ve been easier.

instead, he’d met you with the kind of indifference that left deeper scars. it wasn’t cruelty. it wasn’t malice. it was worse.

because he didn’t know.

he hadn’t seen the depth of the wound he left behind, hadn’t realized the songs he sang now—so effortlessly, so obliviously—had been born from that ache. and as his voice spilled into the air, filling the space between you, it felt like he was singing those songs back to you.

but not for you. never for you.

this was the song.

the one you had written for him—about him—in the stillness of the night when the only sound was the soft hum of the tour bus and the ache in your chest you couldn’t put into words any other way. it wasn’t just a song, it was your confession, your breaking point, every jagged piece of your heart laid bare in the form of melody and chords.

wonbin stepped forward, mic in hand, and smiled faintly, his voice warm as it washed over the crowd.

"this one’s special, written by our incredibly talented guitarist and our very own goddess of words—give it up for her."

the audience roared, their applause crashing like waves, but the sound barely registered. the stage lights felt too bright, bearing down on you as if they knew too much, as if they could see straight through the cracks you were trying so hard to hold together. you gave a small nod, barely enough to acknowledge the cheers, but your throat tightened when your fingers hovered over the strings.

your hands trembled, just faintly, as you picked the first few notes, the soft, aching melody stretching out over the venue like a secret you hadn’t meant to tell.

the crowd swayed, lights flickering softly like fireflies in the dark, but the only thing you could focus on was him—the way his head dipped slightly, the microphone close to his lips as he sang the opening verse.

and then it was your turn.

your voice slipped in beneath his, weaving through the melody like a breath you couldn’t hold back, soft and fleeting but impossibly intimate. it threaded through his effortlessly, your harmonies clinging to his in ways that felt too heavy, too raw. every word felt like reopening an old wound, pressing into the places you thought had long since scarred over.

his gaze stayed locked on the crowd, his eyes reflecting the sea of faces that stretched endlessly beneath the glow of the stage lights—hungry for him, devoted to him. you hated the ease with which he held them, how effortlessly he poured himself into their open hands like sunlight spilling through cracks, leaving nothing untouched.

wonbin was a force—bright, untouchable, impossible to contain—and you felt like one of the thousands standing beneath him, trapped in his orbit but forever out of reach.

you strummed the final note, letting it hang in the air, suspended and bittersweet like a breath you didn’t want to release. for a fleeting second, the room seemed to pause with it, as if the sound could tether you there a moment longer, but the illusion shattered beneath the eruption of applause.

the crowd swallowed everything, their cheers crashed against the stage, drowning out the fragile rhythm of your heart still echoing in your ears.

wonbin grinned, flashing it out across the room like a weapon, and they ate it up—falling apart beneath the weight of his smile, their voices rising higher, feeding into the glow that surrounded him. he basked in it, soaking in their adoration like he belonged there, while you stood half a step behind, your guitar slung low and heavy in your hands. the strap dug faintly into your shoulder, but the weight pressing against your chest felt far worse.

you didn’t feel like you belonged here anymore. your stage, your music, only served of a reminder of him, of the pain it caused you.

the realization settled uncomfortably beneath your skin, tightening around you as the set barreled toward its inevitable end.

rhe closing anthem roared to life—loud and blistering, the kind of song that lit the crowd on fire, shaking the foundation beneath their feet. wonbin leaned into the mic, his voice molten with charisma, the kind that made hearts leap and arms reach toward the stage like he was something divine, just barely within their grasp.

"thank you for an unforgettable tour," he called out, his grin widening as the noise swelled impossibly louder. "we love you!"

and they loved him—loved him so loudly it felt as if the stage itself could barely contain it.

the cheers were deafening backstage, a chaotic symphony of laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of exhaustion masked by the adrenaline of finishing a tour. bottles of champagne popped open like firecrackers, sending golden arcs of champagne cascading through the air, dripping off fingertips and pooling in half-empty glasses as your bandmates whooped loud enough to shake the ceiling.

it was the kind of scene that was supposed to feel triumphant, the culmination of months of hard work, sleepless nights, and endless miles on the road. but you couldn’t bring yourself to celebrate. the celebration drifted around you, filling the spaces you didn’t occupy.

you sat perched on the armrest of a worn-out couch in the corner of the room, your guitar resting against your thigh, the familiar weight grounding you even as the world spun around you. the energy in the room was infectious, but it didn’t reach you.it couldn’t.

not when he was standing there, oblivious to the way his mere existence unraveled you, threaded into the heart of it all, like the entire room had shifted to revolve around him.

wonbin was at the center of it all, as he always was. his easy laugh cut through the noise, rich and melodic, the kind of laugh that made people gravitate toward him without even realizing it. he had a drink in one hand, the other slung lazily around the shoulder of the waitress from earlier. the one who’d been lingering at the edge of the stage, her eyes glued to him like so many others.

she clung to him now, her fingers curling possessively around his arm, her smile bright and adoring as she looked up at him. he didn’t seem to mind. in fact, he leaned into her touch, his posture relaxed, his face a picture of effortless charm.

the sight of it twisted something sharp and unwelcome inside you, settling heavily in the hollow of your chest like stones sinking into water, squeezing the air from your lungs.

you tore your gaze away, eyes dropping to the scuffed floorboards as if their worn, splintered surface might offer some kind of refuge. but it didn’t. the image of them—wonbin and the girl—was already burned there, seared into the backs of your eyelids like an unwanted tattoo, impossible to scrub away.

the weight of it lingered, gnawing at the fragile edges of your composure, until a familiar voice cut through the fog.

“hey, you good?”

yunjin’s tone was soft, but there was a sharpness beneath it—the kind of sharpness that saw too much. she dropped down beside you with the kind of casual ease only she could manage, her dress rumpled slightly from the night, cheeks still faintly flushed from the heat of the stage lights and the champagne.

but her eyes—clear and steady—searched your face with quiet precision, narrowing faintly when you hesitated a beat too long.

“yeah,” you said, the lie slipping from your lips before you had time to soften it. you forced a smile, tugging the corners of your mouth upward until it felt tight, stretched thin enough to break.

“just tired.”

her gaze lingered, weighing the answer as if she could peel back the surface of it with nothing more than silence. she didn’t believe you, not entirely, but she didn’t press.

instead, she nudged your shoulder lightly with hers, a small gesture that somehow felt grounding, her voice dipping low—soft enough that it barely carried over the thrum of conversation filling the room.

“it’s okay to let loose, you know,” she whispered, her tone light but edged with the kind of quiet sincerity that made your throat tighten.

“we made it. the tour’s over, and we killed it.”

you nodded once, grateful for the attempt, but the words felt hollow—empty, like an echo swallowed by too much space.

across the room, hongjoong’s laughter rang out, bright and unrestrained as he draped an arm over gunil’s shoulders, both of them swaying slightly as they stumbled toward the makeshift bar.

“to the best damn tour we’ve ever done!” hongjoong shouted, lifting his glass high above his head in a triumphant toast.

the declaration earned a loud chorus of cheers and whistles, someone banging a fist against the table in agreement as the bottles clinked together in celebration.

the energy swelled around you, infectious and warm, but it slipped right past you—like standing outside in the cold, watching a fire through the glass but never stepping inside.

and even as you smiled faintly, nodding along to yunjin’s words, your heart remained fixed elsewhere—still lingering in the shadow of someone who didn’t even know you were waiting there.

wonbin’s voice rose above the noise, effortless and warm, and somehow it carried more weight than the rest—cut through everything, even when you wished it wouldn’t. his laugh followed, low and rich, spreading through the room like wildfire, igniting smiles and drawing every eye toward him as if he was the very center of the world.

and maybe he was.

the waitress at his side laughed too, tipping her head back in that familiar way—the one you’d seen a hundred times from countless girls in countless cities. she leaned into him, her arm brushing against his, and the sight of it made your stomach twist violently, like something fragile inside you was curling in on itself, recoiling from the scene playing out just a few feet away.

you couldn’t look.

you couldn’t not look.

the knot in your chest coiled tighter, pulling so sharply it felt like it might snap if you stayed here any longer. the room shrank around you, the air growing thick and suffocating with each passing second, pressing in until the walls felt too close—until everything felt too loud.

every laugh grated against you, scraping raw against nerves already frayed at the edges, the clinking glasses and echoing cheers rang hollow, amplifying the ache beneath your skin, deepening the storm that had been quietly brewing in the pit of your stomach since the show ended.

your hand slipped to the guitar resting against your thigh, fingers grazing lightly over the strings, desperate for the familiar feeling beneath your touch. it grounded you, offered something steady in the middle of all the chaos. it didn’t hurt. it was the only thing that didn’t.

“hey rockstar, you’re way too quiet for someone who just killed that stage.”

minjeong’s voice cut gently through the haze, her hand finding your arm, warm and steady—a tether pulling you back down to earth. her eyes were soft, concerned but not prying, and for a moment you wanted to lean into that warmth, let her pull you from the edge.

“come on,” she added, giving your arm the faintest squeeze. “let’s get you a drink.”

“i’m not sure if i—“

“come on, one drink won’t hurt—“

“i’m fine,” you answered, but the words came too sharp, cutting the space between you like glass.

her hand slipped away, leaving behind a cold, hollow trace where her warmth had been, and guilt flared instantly beneath your ribs. you opened your mouth to apologize, but the words wouldn’t come—not when your throat was already too tight, not when it felt like the moment you spoke, everything might shatter around you.

instead, you rose abruptly, the movement sudden and graceless, pulling a few wandering glances from across the room. wonbin’s eyes never strayed from the girl beside him, but somehow that made it worse.

the noise—their laughter, his laughter—stretched thin, brittle against the edges of your mind until you couldn’t bear it any longer.

“i just need some air,” you mumbled to the two girls, the excuse barely audible as you slipped past minjeong, past the bodies filling the room, desperate to escape before the weight of it all swallowed you whole.

you didn’t stop until the door closed softly behind you, sealing the noise inside like a distant memory.

the hallway was a sanctuary of silence, the muffled echoes of laughter and celebration dissolving into the background like distant thunder. you leaned heavily against the cold concrete wall, letting it press into your spine, sharp and grounding.

your palms slid up to your face, fingertips dragging along your skin as if the simple act of touch could smother the ache blooming relentlessly beneath your ribs. the chill bit into you, seeping through your fingers, but it wasn’t enough—not against the weight that had settled deep in your chest, heavy and unmoving.

he didn’t know.

not about the songs—the ones you’d written when sleep felt like an impossible thing, when the darkness outside the tour bus windows felt too heavy to bear alone. every lyric had been carved from the raw, unrelenting ache that he had unknowingly left behind, each melody a confession too fragile to say out loud. the words had poured out of you like blood, as if spilling them onto paper might ease the burn lodged beneath your skin.

but none of it reached him.

not the sleepless nights. not the way your gaze clung to him on stage tonight, silently pleading for his eyes to meet yours, only to watch him look past you—through you and at the crowd. as if you weren’t there. as if you’d never been there at all.

your arms folded tightly across your chest, knuckles pressing against your ribs like that could hold the storm inside at bay, but the tremble had already started—deep and uncontrollable, unraveling you thread by thread. the cold wall against your back was solid, grounding in theory, but it did nothing to steady the shaking that crept beneath your skin.

the faint hum of celebration seeped through the door behind you, distant but persistent, bleeding into the quiet that wrapped around you like a shroud. the contrast felt unbearable—they were celebrating but you were breaking.

his voice echoed in fragments, replaying uninvited in your mind as he came to a stop next to you as the group exited the stage.

you were great tonight.

it should have been enough. hearing it from him, feeling the brief flicker of his attention—it should have been enough. but the hollowness in his tone, the effortless way he’d said it, twisted something sharp and unforgiving inside you.

he didn’t know. he didn’t feel it. not any of it.

the realization sliced through the haze like cold steel, quick and merciless, knocking the breath from your lungs. your fists curled at your sides, nails biting into your palms—deep enough to sting but not deep enough to drown out the ache curling tighter in your chest.

the air felt colder now, slipping down the corridor and winding around your body, tugging at the hem of your jacket, curling against the bare skin of your neck. it stung, but the cold was nothing compared to the raw, gnawing emptiness clawing at you from the inside, threatening to spill over if you stayed here too long.

and then, the door creaked behind you, soft footsteps breaking the fragile stillness, echoing faintly against the floor.

you didn’t look up, every part of you silently willing it to be someone else—anyone else, but you already knew. you felt him before he spoke.

wonbin.

his presence lingered just behind you, heavy and unmistakable, and even without seeing him, you could feel the weight of his eyes trailing over you, searching for something you weren’t sure you could give.

“you’ve been doing this a lot lately.”

his voice was low, just barely cutting through the quiet, like he was afraid to shatter the fragile stillness that hung between you. the weight of his words curled around the empty space, soft but certain, and something inside you twisted painfully at the sound.

your stomach flipped, and you swallowed hard, willing the sudden tightness in your throat to ease as you dragged your gaze up to meet his.

wonbin stood a few steps away, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his head tilted slightly as he watched you. his hair, still damp from the stage lights, hung in loose, uneven strands over his forehead, the kind of careless perfection that felt maddeningly effortless. the soft glow from the hallway lights caught along the edge of his jaw, tracing his profile in faint gold, making him look more like a daydream than someone standing right in front of you.

his face was unreadable, calm in a way that felt impossible for the moment unraveling between you. but his eyes—those eyes—they didn’t waver. they stayed locked on you, steady and searching, as if he was peeling back every layer of silence and holding each fragile piece up to the light.

“doing what?” the words scraped against the walls of your throat, but you managed to keep your voice level, even though your heart hammered violently beneath your ribs.

“disappearing.”

he stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his movements careful—like he was approaching something fragile, something that might break if he got too close.

“you vanish right when everyone’s celebrating.” his gaze didn’t leave you, and the way he said it felt heavier than it should’ve. “it’s the last show, and you’re... here.”

“i needed some air.”

it came out clipped, harsher than you intended, as you shifted your focus to the floor, eyes trailing over the scuffed lines along the concrete. anywhere but him.

wonbin repeated the word under his breath, almost like he was trying it out for the first time, as if the concept itself was strange to him. the disbelief in his tone was faint, but it still brushed against you like an accusation.

a long pause stretched between you, thick and suffocating, until the weight of it pressed hard against your chest.

“you feeling okay?”

the question should have been simple, casual, even, but it wasn’t. it hit with the force of something heavier—something that cracked through the delicate balance you’d been desperately holding together since the show ended.

you forced a laugh, light and brittle, hoping it would break the tension. but it didn’t. it only made the ache sharpen, coiling deeper beneath your skin.

“i’m fine.”

“...you don’t seem fine.”

his voice softened, and damn him for that—for the quiet way his concern slipped into the space between you, for the way it made you want to crumble right there and let it all spill out at his feet, like it always did.

“what do you want me to say, wonbin?”

the words snapped out of you, harsher than you meant, but you couldn’t pull them back. they tore through the silence before you could stop them, unraveling like frayed edges you’d tried so hard to keep tucked away.

“that I’m tired? that i’ve got a headache and would like to go home? would that satisfy your curiosity”

his brows furrowed, and for a moment, he just stood there, letting the silence stretch between you—not reacting, not recoiling, just looking at you. his eyes softened slightly, but the weight of his gaze didn’t lift. it pressed harder, as if he was turning your words over in his mind, trying to decide what to do with them.

“no,” he said quietly, his voice dropping lower.

“i just wanted to know that you were doing okay. that nothing was bothering you.”

you bit down on the inside of your cheek, hard enough that you tasted copper, hoping the sharpness of it would ground you—hoping it would keep the tears pricking at the edges of your vision from spilling over.

the silence after that felt heavier, stretching long enough to become unbearable, long enough for the ache in your chest to morph into something suffocating.

“you should go back.”

the words barely made it past your lips, forced through clenched teeth like glass, cutting on the way out.

“everyone’s waiting for you, the star of the show”

wonbin didn’t move, barely reacting to what you said. instead he stayed where he was, his head tilting slightly, but his eyes never left yours.

“and you?”

you couldn’t answer.

the words dissolved on your tongue, swallowed by the storm tangled inside your chest—the love, the pain, the unbearable weight of everything you hadn’t said, all crashing and colliding like waves threatening to pull you under. the silence stretched, taut and unrelenting, pressing hard against your ribs until you thought you might drown in it.

so you did the only thing you could. you shook your head, turning away before the crack in your composure betrayed you. the movement felt stiff, like each muscle resisted the urge to stay, to let him see the fractures spreading beneath the surface. but you couldn’t—you wouldn’t.

wonbin lingered, his presence anchoring the space behind you. you could hear it—the soft rhythm of his breathing, uneven and quiet, weaving into the faint hum of celebration filtering through the door. the distant echoes of laughter and glass didn’t reach him, didn’t touch this fragile moment suspended between you.

for a second, you thought he might say something else—something that could undo everything, something that could slip beneath the walls you’d spent months fortifying. the air felt too thick, as if the weight of whatever was left unsaid could break apart the fragile stillness hanging between you.

“you were great tonight. if anyone’s the star of the show it’s you.”

and then he turned, the slow fall of his footsteps fading into the distance, each one pulling him further away until the hallway emptied and the weight of his absence settled hard against your chest.

you exhaled sharply, the breath leaving your lungs in a trembling rush, but the cold air did nothing to ease the ache burrowed deep beneath your ribs. it filled you instead, stretching wide and endless, hollow in all the ways that hurt the most.

your hands trembled, slipping down to press against your thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress until your nails dug sharply into the material. the sting grounded you—barely—but it wasn’t enough to pull you back from the edges of the unraveling.

the hallway seemed smaller now, the shadows creeping in at the corners, the walls pressing closer as if they might collapse under the weight of everything you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

you leaned back against the wall, the rough texture scraping faintly against your skin, and let out a breathless laugh—brittle and sharp, but too hollow to hold any real amusement. it barely passed for anything other than the shape of a sob, thin and cracking apart at the edges before it faded entirely.

the ache in your chest didn’t fade, but you swallowed it down, the pain, the heartbreak, the love that burned inside you like a wildfire as you pushed off the wall, making your way back to the noise and the lights and the man who would always be just out of reach.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the studio hummed with a low, ambient quiet—the kind of stillness that seemed to hold its breath, its walls thick with the scent of aged wood and metal strings, the kind of smell that clung to your clothes long after you’d left.

you sat alone in the corner, your fingers brushing absently over the strings of your guitar, coaxing out soft, mournful notes that dissolved into the air like exhaled secrets.

it wasn’t deliberate; it never was. the music always found you in moments like these, seeping through the cracks in your resolve, filling the empty spaces with sounds that carried everything you couldn’t say aloud.

the light spilling through the high windows was pale and muted, catching the floating dust motes in a quiet dance. it painted the room in a palette of grays and golds, softening the sharp edges of the equipment scattered around the studio. the low light from the hanging bulbs painted the room in muted golds and ambers, casting elongated shadows that stretched and swayed with every shift of your body.

you let the weight of the guitar anchor you, its familiar curve resting against your body like a second heartbeat. each note you plucked seemed to pulse in your chest, resonating deeper than the strings, like the music was reaching into the raw, aching center of you. the hum of the guitar strings vibrated softly beneath your fingers, a muted melody that felt more like a heartbeat than a tune.

and then the door creaked open, shattering the fragile cocoon of sound you’d built around yourself. hongjoong walked in first, his expression a blend of practiced calm and sharp observation. his eyes flicked to you, lingering for a beat too long, as though he was trying to gauge the exact temperature of the storm you were hiding behind your carefully composed face.

“figured i’d find you here early.”

hongjoong’s voice was soft but carried a warmth that filled the room. you glanced up to see him standing in the doorway, a to-go coffee cup in each hand. his dark eyes held a flicker of amusement, but there was something else beneath it—a quiet understanding he didn’t voice. he crossed the room with deliberate steps, the soles of his sneakers barely making a sound against the hardwood floor.

“i brought you this. thought you might need it,” he said, setting the cup down on the edge of the amp beside you.

his tone was casual, his expression carefully neutral. he didn’t press, didn’t ask why you were here so early or why your eyes looked a little more tired than usual. instead, he gave you a small smile, the kind that said he’d noticed but wouldn’t say anything until you were ready.

“thanks,” you murmured, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. the heat seeped into your palms, grounding you in the present moment. you took a tentative sip, the rich bitterness of the coffee cutting through the haze that clung to your mind.

before hongjoong could say anything else, the door swung open with a cheerful creak, and gunil strode in, his presence as loud and unapologetic as ever.

“man, two days off and we’re already back here? this has to qualify as workplace cruelty,” he declared, tossing his bag onto the couch in the corner.

hongjoong let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “complain all you want, but you’re here, aren’t you?”

“barely,” gunil shot back, his grin infectious as he walked past you, ruffling your hair without a second thought.

“you look extra broody today. what, the strings giving you a hard time?”

you swatted at his hand half-heartedly, a faint scowl tugging at your lips.

“ever heard of personal space?”

“nope,” he replied breezily, collapsing onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.

hongjoong rolled his eyes but didn’t bother hiding his smile.

“you’re impossible.”

as the three of you settled into a comfortable rhythm, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. minjeong appeared in the doorway, her hair still slightly damp as if she’d rushed to get here. she offered a small smile as she entered, her gaze flickering to you briefly before she headed to her usual spot by the keyboard.

“hey, you didn’t reply to my text yesterday” she said softly, her voice carrying the same quiet strength that always managed to put you at ease.

“sorry, fell asleep early” you replied, your fingers idly plucking at the guitar strings.

she didn’t push further, but her eyes lingered on you for a moment, a silent acknowledgment that she’d noticed the shift in your demeanor but said nothing as yunjin burst through the doors, taking the attention away from you.

the new quiet was broken by the sound of the door opening once more, and this time, it was wonbin. his presence seemed to fill the room effortlessly, his sun-kissed skin glowing under the warm light, and his tousled hair somehow managing to look both messy and perfect. he moved with an easy confidence, the kind that wasn’t overbearing but commanded attention nonetheless.

he held a coffee cup in one hand and a bag of pastries in the other, his smile disarming as he approached.

“morning,” he greeted, his voice smooth and warm like honey. he handed the cup to you without hesitation.

“thought you might need this.”

you blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “uh, thanks. but hongjoong already…”

for a moment, his gaze drifted to hongjoong, something unspoken flickering behind his eyes—there and gone in an instant, smoothed over before you could grasp its meaning.

“guess you’ll have two, then,” he said with a shrug, his smile never wavering. “never hurts to have extra caffeine, right?”

the room seemed to hum with his presence, the air shifting subtly as he took the seat across from you. his gaze was steady, a mix of curiosity and something softer, something you couldn’t quite place.

“have you been working on anything new?” he asked, gesturing to the guitar in your hands, attempting to make conversation with you.

“a little,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended.

“just messing around really, drawing from some inspiration”

“messing around or making magic?” he countered, his tone light but the compliment sincere.

“you always come up with the best stuff when you’re ‘just messing around.’”

you felt a faint heat rise to your cheeks and quickly turned your attention back to the guitar.

“it’s nothing special.”

before the conversation could go any further, gunil’s voice rang out from the couch. “

“are we actually going to practice today, or are we just going to sit around complimenting each other?”

“leave it to you to ruin the moment,” minjeong muttered, earning a chorus of laughter from the others.

you couldn’t bring yourself to join in, the weight in your chest making it hard to muster even a faint smile. instead, you focused on the strings beneath your fingers, letting the vibrations seep into your skin, grounding you in the one thing that always made sense: the music.

the room settles into a quiet hum as everyone takes their places. the faint scent of coffee and the lingering warmth of laughter begin to dissipate, replaced by the raw anticipation of creating something new. yunjin taps a steady rhythm against the edge of her keyboard, her fingers moving in a dance of idle precision, while hongjoong adjusts his microphone with the care of someone about to bare his soul.

your guitar rests in your lap, its polished surface reflecting the muted studio lights. the strings feel like a lifeline beneath your fingertips, taut and ready to carry the weight of your unspoken emotions. you let out a slow breath, the cool air filling your lungs as you begin to strum, the first notes blooming into the space like ink spreading through water.

the melody you play is haunting and raw, a reflection of the turmoil churning within you. each chord is deliberate, resonating with a depth that makes the others pause and glance your way.

wonbin is the first to speak, his voice warm but tinged with curiosity.

"that’s new," he says, leaning slightly forward, his attention fixed on you. "what’s it called?"

you shrug, keeping your gaze on the strings as your fingers continue to move.

"it doesn’t have a name yet."

"it’s beautiful," he says softly, and there’s something in his tone that makes your heart clench.

"play it again."

you do, this time letting the notes unfurl with more confidence. the melody builds, a cascade of sound that fills the room, weaving through the space like a story yearning to be told. your fingers press into the strings with a force that’s almost desperate, as if each note is a piece of the pain you’re trying to expel.

hongjoong picks up on the rhythm, his voice slipping in seamlessly to complement the haunting tune. his lyrics are improvised, raw and unpolished, but they carry an emotional weight that anchors the song. minjeong follows suit, her keyboard adding a delicate, ethereal layer that lifts the melody, while gunil’s drumsticks tap against his thighs, testing out a beat.

the room comes alive, each member adding their own voice to the burgeoning song. but for you, it’s not just music—it’s a lifeline. the guitar strings bite into your fingertips, the faint sting grounding you in the present. the vibrations hum against your chest, echoing the ache that refuses to leave. you close your eyes, letting the music guide you, each strum a step further into vulnerability.

"that’s it," hongjoong says suddenly, his voice breaking through the spell. "let’s build on this."

the band falls into rhythm, the synergy between you all palpable despite the undercurrent of tension. gunil’s drumming grows bolder, a heartbeat that anchors the song, while minjeong experiments with harmonies that dance around the melody. wonbin’s bassline is steady and grounding, a quiet strength that ties the disparate elements together.

his presence, however, is anything but quiet to you. every time you catch sight of him—his fingers moving deftly over the strings, his brow furrowed in concentration—you feel the music falter, your emotions threatening to spill over. he looks up at you occasionally, a small smile tugging at his lips, and you force yourself to look away, focusing instead on the guitar strings and the way they seem to vibrate with your pain.

as the practice continues, the song begins to take shape, its edges smoothing out as the band finds its groove. the room fills with sound, a cacophony of creativity and collaboration, but for you, it’s more than that. it’s a battlefield, each note a weapon you wield against the ache in your chest.

the last chord hung in the air like an unfinished thought, trembling before dissolving into silence. the room should’ve felt full—buzzing with the energy of creation, the satisfaction of crafting something raw and unpolished—but all you felt was emptiness. the kind that crept beneath your skin and stayed there, curling around your ribs like smoke that refused to dissipate.

gunil’s voice cut through it first, loud and buoyant, shattering the delicate quiet you were trying to lose yourself in.

"we’re geniuses. i mean, honestly. did you hear that?"

he stretched like a cat, tossing his drumsticks onto the floor with the lazy confidence of someone entirely at ease in his own skin. the grin on his face was radiant, wide enough to outshine the dim studio lights overhead.

hongjoong snorted softly, rolling his eyes, leaning casually against the edge of the soundboard.

"yeah, it’s almost like we’re supposed to be good at this."

"i’m just saying," gunil countered, grinning at the ceiling like the notes were still floating up there, just waiting for him to catch them.

"that was some top-tier stuff. and you know what top-tier stuff deserves?"

there was a collective pause.

"celebration." gunil grinned, flashing his teeth like he’d been holding onto the word just for this moment.

the room stirred at the word, faint murmurs of agreement rising like sparks, drifting slowly toward ignition. hongjoong raised a brow, though the amusement tugging at his lips betrayed his resistance.

"didn’t we just drink enough to drown a small village on tour?"

"and yet, here we are. alive and well," gunil shot back, undeterred.

"you of all people should not be saying that," minjeong muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she reminisced all of the times she had to beg him to get into the van after a long night of partying hard.

but the room was already stirring with the promise of a night out. the hum of conversation grew louder, and even minjeong’s faint amusement tugged at the corners of her mouth. gunil’s enthusiasm was infectious, spreading like wildfire as the others chimed in.

"come on, hongjoong," gunil pressed, his voice rising above the chatter. "we earned this. final show was killer, the album’s practically writing itself… one night won’t hurt."

the suggestion hung there, and despite hongjoong’s half-hearted protest, the atmosphere began to shift. the idea of a party swirled like a low flame, licking at the edges of the room, spreading through the rest of them with ease. gunil thrived in these moments—the instigator, pulling everyone into his orbit until they were caught in the gravity of whatever whim struck him that day.

hongjoong sighed, but the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him.

"fine, fine. if it means you’ll stop talking, I’ll go."

a cheer erupted, loud and unanimous—gunil’s voice carrying the most weight, echoing playfully around the room. the excitement gathered like a tidal wave, pulling everyone along with it.

you, however, remained rooted. their excitement drifted past you, ghostlike, as if there was an unspoken barrier between their laughter and the hollow ache that had settled deep within your chest.

celebrate?

the word tasted strange. foreign. how could they be so light when everything inside you felt heavy—when every glance at wonbin during practice felt like swallowing glass? the weight of it all hadn’t lessened in the days since the tour ended. if anything, it had thickened, pressing against your ribs until breathing felt like an effort you had to remember to make.

your grip tightened around the neck of your guitar, the strings humming faintly beneath your fingertips as if the instrument was the only one listening. you tried to disappear into that—into the comfort of its weight in your lap, the way the cool metal bit against the soft skin of your palms.

"you’re thinking too loud."

yunjin’s voice drifted in softly, cutting through the fog. her presence was quiet but grounding, standing just beside you. she hadn’t been there moments ago, but she always knew when to appear.

"you don’t want to go."

it wasn’t a question.

you let out a slow breath, your fingers absentmindedly trailing over the strings, pulling faint, broken notes from the guitar.

"i just don’t know if i can handle it tonight."

the words were quiet, almost drowned by the sounds of the others still talking across the room. but yunjin’s eyes softened, catching on the slight tremble hidden beneath your voice.

"maybe that’s why you should," she said simply, her gaze steady but not forceful.

"you’ve been carrying this for too long. sometimes a little noise helps."

the ache in your chest curled tighter.

if only it were that simple.

you wanted to tell her that noise didn’t distract you—it amplified everything. the lights, the sound, the closeness of it all made wonbin’s presence impossible to ignore, his absence impossible to forget, but you said none of that.

"i don’t know," you whispered, as if the uncertainty might shrink into something smaller if you spoke it softly enough.

yunjin offered a small smile, brushing her shoulder lightly against yours in a way that felt more comforting than words ever could.

"i’ll stick by you. if it sucks, we’ll leave."

her voice carried the kind of certainty you wished you had, and somehow, that was enough to loosen the grip of hesitation just a little.

"fine," you exhaled, feeling the weight of the word settle somewhere deep, somewhere heavy.

yunjin’s grin softened the blow.

"that’s all i needed to hear."

you glanced up, just long enough to see hongjoong’s gaze flicker in your direction. he hadn’t said much, but the way his eyes lingered told you he’d noticed your reluctance. hongjoong always noticed.

"meet at nine at my place," he said casually, as if your answer was inevitable.

"don’t be late,” he directed the last part towards you, discouraging you from having any last minute change of heart.

gunil’s grin widened. "i’ll drag you there if i have to."

you offered a faint nod, though the words felt distant in your mouth.

as the others began to filter out, wonbin lingered near the door. his bass case hung from his shoulder, his tousled hair catching faint light from the overhead bulbs, glinting like dark gold. he paused for half a breath, his gaze catching yours.

you thought he might say something—maybe offer one of his casual comments, the kind that tugged on the strings of your heart more than it should have.

but he didn’t. he just smiled, small and unreadable, before stepping out after the others. the studio was quiet again, save for the soft hum of amps cooling down. you sat in the silence, the ghost of his smile still lingering in the room like a faint echo.

maybe a little noise will help, you thought, but the ache in your chest whispered otherwise.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

yunjin’s suitcase had become an extension of the room itself, its contents spilling onto the bed in a cascade of silk and satin. the fabrics caught the dim light like oil slicks, shifting hues with every turn of her hand as she rummaged through the pile with the focus of someone convinced salvation lay at the bottom.

dresses pooled across the sheets in soft waves, some half-folded, others left to spill over the edge onto the floor. her hands skimmed through them with surgical precision, sifting through the cascade of black and silver, each piece discarded with growing dissatisfaction.

“you’ve got to have something in here that doesn’t scream nun,” yunjin muttered, tossing aside a long black dress that pooled onto the floor like liquid shadow.

he room hummed softly with the sound of minjeong’s playlist, drifting in and out like waves lapping against the shore, but the music felt distant, as if it belonged to another place entirely. minjeong sat by the window, one leg tucked beneath her, hair falling in loose sheets over her shoulder as she watched with idle amusement.

she didn’t bother scrolling through her phone, the faint glow of the city outside enough to occupy her gaze, but you could feel her attention linger, settling quietly on the two of you from the corner of her eyes. she hadn’t contributed much to the dressing-up process beyond the occasional hum of agreement or head shake, but her presence was grounding. It was comforting in the way only minjeong’s quiet support could be.

“it’s not supposed to be this hard,” minjeong replied smoothly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “you’re just impossible to please.”

yunjin ignored her, rifling deeper through the pile, undeterred by the jab.

you sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, tugging at the hem of the oversized t-shirt that still hung loosely off your frame, trying to shrink into its comfort as you hadn’t found the energy to part with it yet. the worn fabric felt safer than the glossy array of dresses before you. each option seemed louder than the next—demanding attention in ways you didn’t want.

“i don’t need anything flashy or revealing,” you murmured, trailing your fingers over a silky slip dress before quickly pulling back.

“you’re not hiding tonight. you deserve to feel good… even if it’s just for a few hours.”

you didn’t respond, not because you disagreed, but because part of you wondered if you even remembered how to feel that way. it had been easier during the tour—easier to let the music fill the spaces where your feelings threatened to seep through. but now the quiet was suffocating, leaving nothing to drown out the weight pressing against your chest.

yunjin didn’t wait for your answer. she pulled something dark and slinky from the pile and held it up with a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

“this is it.”

"maybe I should just—"

"—not finish that sentence," yunjin cut in, raising a hand to silence whatever excuse was on your lips. "you’re not skipping out on tonight."

"i wasn’t going to skip."

"mm-hm." yunjin’s eyes narrowed in challenge.

"then you’re wearing this."

minjeong arched a brow, her gaze flicking between the two of you with amusement. "are we trying to start wars tonight, or…"

"if we have to," yunjin replied, her lips curling into a mischievous grin.

“no.”

“yes.”

“yunjin, i’m serious—”

“so am i.”

minjeong let out a quiet laugh, propping her chin on her hand as she watched the two of you.

“you’re fighting a losing battle. just try it on.”

you slipped into it reluctantly, the silk cool against your skin, fitting in ways that made you hyper aware of every movement—the soft brush of fabric against your thigh, the subtle shift when you walked, as if the dress was designed to remind you of its presence.

the dress felt unfamiliar, even as it slid over your skin, molding to your shape like it had been waiting for this moment. the black fabric clung to you in waves, the high slit brushing against your thigh with each subtle shift, teasing glances at your legs as you moved.

yunjin hummed softly behind you as she swiped a thin layer of red over your lips, the color blooming beneath her careful hand, rich and bold against the softness of your skin.

“perfect,” she whispered, stepping back to admire her work.

you stared at the reflection in the mirror, the familiar slope of your collarbone catching the low light, the soft fall of your hair framing your features. it wasn’t a transformation—it was still you. only sharper. like someone had peeled away the softer edges and left behind something more defined.

it’s not someone else in the mirror, but the version of yourself you use sparingly—the one you keep tucked away, for moments like this.

minjeong had been careful with the makeup, blending shadows at the corners of your eyes until they smoldered just enough to draw focus, but not enough to overwhelm. the person looking back is still you. but sharper, guarded. as if every detail has been edged in something dangerous.

minjeong watched quietly from the bed, her gaze steady, arms crossed as if to say i told you so.

“wonbin’s not ready for this,” yunjin added, smirking knowingly.

your chest felt hollow at the mention of his name, an ache curling beneath your ribs that hadn’t fully subsided since the end of the tour.

you could still see him—wonbin, leaning against the edge of the stage, the low sweep of his hair falling into his eyes as he tuned his bass, completely unaware of the way your gaze lingered. he never noticed the way your breath hitched when his hand accidentally brushed yours during practice, or how your fingers fumbled over the guitar strings when he laughed, loose and careless, his arm slung over another girl’s shoulder at some party you didn’t want to remember.

“it’s not about him.”

yunjin’s gaze softened, but her grip on the dress remained firm.

“maybe not. but it wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

minjeong rose from her spot by the window, crossing the room with the same quiet grace she always carried, but her gaze lingered when she stopped beside you.

“he’ll notice,” she said simply.

and somehow, that terrified you more than the thought of him looking away.

the rain had stopped long enough for the streets to dry, but the dampness still clung to the air, curling in the spaces where warmth had no business lingering. yunjin’s arm looped easily through yours, her body angled closer than usual, like she could sense the weight pressing down on you, even if you hadn’t said a word since leaving the hotel.

the dress hugged tighter than before, each shift of your hips against the silk like a reminder of how exposed you were beneath the thin layer. the heels felt too high, the cold biting at the sliver of skin where the slit along your thigh dared to catch the wind, and with each step toward hongjoong’s apartment, the gravity of the evening pressed harder into your chest.

your heart pounded—not from excitement or anticipation, but from something heavier, like dread disguised in a prettier shape. the kind of ache that curls inward, weaving through the cracks until you can’t tell if it’s even possible to separate the pain from yourself anymore.

you could already see wonbin in your mind—the way he’d sit with one arm slung over the couch, his head tilting just enough to push his hair from his eyes, that smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. effortless. like everything about him had been carefully crafted to draw people in without ever letting them get close enough to matter.

and yet, you could never seem to stop yourself from standing just close enough to get burned.

“you okay?” yunjin’s voice was softer now, breaking through the cold silence that wrapped around the both of you.

you forced a nod, the lie settling between your ribs, heavy and sharp.

but the truth was lodged deeper—no, i’m not okay.

you weren’t okay when the tour ended, when the final show’s lights dimmed and you watched him from the side of the stage, knowing that no song, no applause, could drown out the ache blooming inside your chest.

you weren’t okay when he laughed with another girl at the last party, her hand curling over his forearm like it belonged there, his gaze never once flicking in your direction.

and you weren’t okay now, knowing that by the time this night ended, nothing would have changed except the depth of the wound you were already carrying.

the apartment building loomed ahead, the faint glow of hongjoong’s window spilling out onto the street below, shadows of figures moving behind the glass.

gunil’s voice was the first thing you heard when the door cracked open, his laugh low and careless as he leaned one shoulder against the frame, beer bottle dangling lazily from his fingers.

but the second his eyes flicked over you, something shifted—his posture straightening just enough to notice, his grin faltering as his gaze trailed slowly down the length of you, lingering where the dress slipped over your hips before snapping back up to meet your eyes.

“damn.” the word left him like a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. he stepped aside, waving you through but not before shaking his head with a disbelieving smile. “i mean—wow. somebody went all out tonight.”

you felt the heat crawl up the back of your neck, cheeks warming under the weight of his gaze, but yunjin just grinned, giving him a playful shove as she followed behind.

“don’t start drooling, gunil. she’s way out of your league.”

“i’m just saying,” he defended, holding his hands up as if to surrender. his eyes flicked to you again, softer this time. “you look great. like, seriously.”

the warmth in his voice felt genuine, enough to tug at something beneath the ache that had settled in your chest long before the night started.

the room was warm—warmer than it should’ve been with the windows cracked and the faint brush of night air curling in from the streets below. the soft thrum of music pressed against the walls, low enough to dissolve into the hum of conversation, laughter trickling in from the far side of the apartment where gunil was already making himself at home.

but none of it touched you.

your glass hovered halfway to your lips, fingers curled loosely around the cool edge as you stood by the farthest corner of hongjoong’s kitchen, barely skimming the edges of the gathering. it wasn’t crowded, but it felt like it was. the apartment stretched thinner, the walls pressing in, shrinking the space between you and the one person you were trying so desperately not to focus on.

wonbin.

he was leaning against the counter near the window, one hand cradling a glass that he hadn’t touched since you walked in.

the soft glow of the string lights draped across the ceiling spilled over him, illuminating the angles of his face—the soft curve of his mouth resting in that easy, half-smile he wore like second skin, dark hair falling over his eyes in lazy strands that framed him too perfectly.

he wasn’t doing anything remarkable, just existing. and somehow, that alone had the power to hold the entire room in orbit around him.

the space he occupied seemed heavier, pulling at you like some unrelenting tide, tugging at the threads that already felt too frayed to hold. you could feel him without looking—his presence crackling at the edges of your awareness, magnetic in that quiet, dangerous way that made you want to step closer even when you knew it would only hurt.

gunil said something loud enough to pull laughter from the others, his voice rising over the rest like a spark in dry air, but it didn’t reach you.

because wonbin’s gaze had found you.

it was slow at first—a fleeting glance that should’ve passed over you like it did everyone else, but it didn’t.

his eyes lingered, trailing over the dip of your shoulder where yunjin’s necklace rested against your collarbone, skimming the soft curve of your waist before settling on the slit of your dress that shifted with the subtle sway of your weight.

and in that moment, the room dissolved.

everything blurred into the background—gunil’s voice, the music, the quiet murmur of hongjoong’s conversation with minjeong—all of it faded into static.

because the only thing anchoring you to this moment was the weight of wonbin’s eyes holding yours.

your breath hitched, catching in your throat like fragile glass, and the ache you thought you’d buried months ago pressed itself sharp against your ribs, curling tighter the longer he looked, he wasn’t smiling now, his expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his gaze was enough to set your skin alight, each second stretching thinner, pulling taut until it felt like you might break beneath it.

you didn’t move and neither did he but the space between you felt electric, charged with something unspoken that neither of you dared to reach for. you wanted to believe—for just a second—that maybe this time it was different, that maybe he was looking at you the way you always caught yourself looking at him.

but hope was a fragile thing, and it shattered the moment he blinked and his gaze dropped, falling away like the air had been sucked from the room, leaving behind the hollow echo of what could’ve been.

his attention shifted easily, sliding toward gunil as if nothing had happened—as if you hadn’t just felt your entire chest cave in beneath the weight of his stare.

you tried to breathe, but the air felt thick, and the whiskey in your glass did nothing to chase away the cold settling beneath your skin but it hurt—worse than you expected because it was always the same.

wonbin saw you, but he didn’t see you.

you were just another part of the room—another fleeting glance that didn’t stick, another shadow he’d forget the second he turned away. your heart twisted painfully, but you masked it with a slow sip of your drink, letting the burn scrape down your throat in the hopes that it would drown out the ache swelling in your chest.

yunjin was by your side before you even registered her presence, her shoulder brushing lightly against yours, grounding you in the only way she knew how.

“you’re doing that thing,” she murmured, leaning in close enough that her words barely carried past the rim of her glass.

“what thing?” you asked, though the faint tremble in your voice betrayed you.

“staring.”

your grip tightened subtly, the cold sweat of the glass slick against your palm.

“i’m not—”

“you are,” she interrupted softly, but there was no judgment in her tone—just quiet understanding.

she followed your gaze for a beat too long, watching the way wonbin’s head tilted back as he laughed at something gunil said, his hand lifting to brush through his hair.

you hated how easily he could exist like this—untouched, unaware of the way he held pieces of you you’d never been brave enough to hand over.

“it’s exhausting, isn’t it?” yunjin’s voice was low, but the weight behind it hit you square in the chest.

you didn’t answer, because there was no point in denying it. the ache had already carved itself so deeply into you that it felt permanent, like something you’d have to carry long after this night ended.

wonbin hadn’t glanced at you again, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the ghost of his gaze trailing along your skin, burning even when it was no longer there.

you wished you could stop caring, but no matter how much you tried to untangle yourself from him, he was woven into the fabric of you, threading through your veins like a quiet, persistent ache..

“we should head out soon,” hongjoong said, glancing at the time. he reached for his jacket slung over the back of the chair, slipping it on without urgency. “party won’t wait forever.”

gunil raised his bottle in mock agreement tilting it in your direction. “i’m just saying, if we’re bringing her like this, we might as well show up late and make an entrance.”

“you’re not subtle,” yunjin shot back, but the laughter in her voice softened the edge of her words.

the group began to gather near the door, the slow shuffle of jackets and boots filling the quiet that had settled over the apartment. hongjoong slipped into his usual role—organizer by default—moving between conversations as he rounded up stray belongings and gently nudged everyone toward the van waiting outside. his movements were easy, practiced, like someone who’d done this a hundred times before without thinking.

wonbin hung back, lingering near the window, the rim of his glass brushing against his lower lip as he took his time finishing the last of whatever he’d been drinking. his gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the street below, unfocused, almost thoughtful, before he finally set the empty glass down with a soft clink against the table.

the keys flashed silver as hongjoong pulled them free from his pocket, tossing them toward wonbin with a flick of his wrist. the metallic glint caught faintly in the streetlights seeping through the blinds, and for a moment, the apartment felt still—like something hanging in the air between the exchange.

wonbin caught them easily, fingers curling around the keyring with practiced grace, the jingle sharp enough to pull your attention back to the room.

hongjoong, already halfway into his jacket, hesitated just long enough to cast him a sideways glance.

“you sure you’re good to drive?”

wonbin’s gaze shifted, meeting hongjoong’s with the faintest quirk of his brow, a soft half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“haven’t had a drop. you’d know if i did.”

the way he said it—smooth, unbothered—made your pulse stutter for reasons you didn’t want to dissect.

“it’s true,” gunil chimed in with a lazy grin, draping himself over hongjoong’s shoulder.

“i watched him sip on mocktails the whole time. the man’s practically a saint.”

hongjoong snorted. “right. saint wonbin.”

“if we crash, at least we’ll die with the prettiest driver in town,” gunil added with a grin, earning a chorus of laughter from yunjin and minjeong as they pushed their way out the door, the laughter echoing faintly as the group spilled out into the cool night air.

the weight in your chest only deepened when you stepped outside, the cool slap of night air rushing in to fill the empty space around you, the cold biting harder now as the wind curled around your legs where the dress left your skin exposed, but you said nothing, hugging your arms across your chest as you followed the others to the van.

the van waited just down the curb, parked beneath the hazy flicker of a streetlamp that buzzed faintly against the quiet. yunjin and minjeong made their way inside first, their laughter softening as the doors slid shut behind them, leaving only you, gunil, and wonbin lingering on the sidewalk.

gunil leaned against the van casually, taking his time finishing off the last sip of his beer.

you were already moving toward the open door, the quiet creak of hinges cutting softly through the night as you stepped toward the backseat. the city lights flickered faintly along the car’s surface, casting pale reflections that rippled like water beneath the curve of your fingertips. you didn’t think much of it—didn’t have to—until the faintest brush of warmth skimmed across your wrist, halting you mid-step.

the touch was featherlight, barely more than a flicker against your skin. but it burned. your breath stilled as your fingers hovered over the car door handle, the sudden weight of the moment crashing down as if time itself had narrowed to this—just the soft heat of his palm, the space between you, the silent pull that tugged at the edges of your resolve.

you turned, pulse thrumming at the base of your throat, each heartbeat painfully loud as your eyes lifted—slowly, hesitantly.

wonbin stood just behind you, his gaze already fixed on yours, steady and unreadable beneath the faint glow of the streetlights.

he didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to.

there was something in the way he looked at you—anchored you there, like gravity pulling you to him with an inevitability you couldn’t fight. the quiet hum of the distant city softened to nothing, the sound dissolving beneath the sharp, suffocating awareness of how close he was. his hand lingered just over yours, loose but present, the warmth seeping into your skin in a way that felt impossible to ignore.

wonbin’s eyes didn’t waver and neither did you. the silence stretched, threading itself tightly between you until the weight of it settled in your chest, thick and unrelenting.

then finally—finally—he spoke.

“sit up front. with me”

his voice slipped into the narrow space between you, low and quiet, curling around the inches that separated you. the words weren’t a request—soft but firm, threaded with something just beneath the surface that you couldn’t quite place. His head tipped faintly toward the front seat, the smallest tilt, but it was enough to unravel you.

your breath caught, heart slamming painfully against your ribs as the edges of the night seemed to press in closer, drawing the world smaller until it was just this.

just him.

gunil’s head tilted lazily, his eyes flicking between the two of you as something flickered across his face—a slow, knowing smile that spread like molasses, unhurried and far too pleased with itself.

“ah,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest with exaggerated amusement. “i get it now.”

The playful lilt in his voice dragged your attention sideways, but the hold of Wonbin’s gaze didn’t loosen.

“she looks too good to be admired from the backseat, huh?” gunil teased, his grin growing sharper as he leaned casually against the side of the car.

you barely heard him, the blood rushing in your ears was deafening, a steady thrum that drowned out everything but the weight of wonbin’s eyes still holding you in place but gunil didn’t seem to notice as he continued.

“can’t blame you,” he added with a carefree shrug, gesturing toward you with an easy nod.

“she looks good enough to distract the whole damn car. might as well keep her up front where you can admire her properly, right?”

his words floated somewhere at the edge of your awareness—light, harmless, nothing more than the usual banter gunil was known for. but the tightness curling low in your stomach refused to ease, no matter how playful the intent.

wonbin didn’t laugh, he didn’t even glance at gunil his gaze remained anchored to yours, dark and steady, as if nothing else in the world existed in that moment but the space between you.

the silence stretched long enough to feel suffocating. and then, just when the weight of it threatened to press too hard against your chest, wonbin spoke again—soft, but unyielding.

“sit up front with me, please..”

the words slipped through the tension like silk, smoother this time but still leaving no room for argument. there was no teasing edge to his voice, no trace of the lighthearted indifference he so often carried. the usual glint in his eye, the careless charm—all of it was gone.

it wasn’t a question, it wasn’t even a request. it felt like a decision he’d made long before gunil ever opened his mouth—long before you had stepped toward the car at all and somehow, that realization made your heart stumble harder.

gunil hummed under his breath, a low, teasing sound that might have tugged a laugh from you on any other night but now, it barely registered—a distant echo drowned beneath the quiet hum of something far stronger.

the faint trace of wonbin’s touch still ghosted along your wrist, lingering like the remnants of a fading flame, delicate yet searing in its absence. it shouldn’t have felt this way—shouldn’t have meant anything, but it did.

your head dipped in a small nod, but even that felt heavier than it should have, as if the simple motion pulled at some invisible thread stretched taut between the two of you, tightening with a quiet inevitability.

a flicker crossed wonbin’s face—so quick, so fleeting—that you almost missed it. the slightest crease at the corner of his mouth, the shift in his eyes, something unreadable that dissolved the moment you caught it, vanishing as if it had never been there at all.

but you saw it, or maybe you only wanted to.

either way, he released your wrist, his fingers slipping away with a slowness that felt deliberate—like he meant for you to notice the absence, to feel the space left behind.

you swallowed, the heat rising beneath your skin at odds with the cool night air, and stepped forward. the soft thud of the passenger door closing behind you cut through the quiet as you settled into the seat. the leather pressed cool and smooth against your thighs, grounding you just enough to remember how to breathe.

funil slid into the back with the others, his laughter trailing softly behind him, though the grin he wore lingered—persistent, even in the faint reflection of the rearview mirror.

wonbin said nothing.

instead he slipped behind the wheel, the slow, fluid motion unnervingly calm, his hand hovered briefly over the ignition, but he didn’t start the car right away.

the soft click of his seatbelt broke the silence, the sound small but cutting in the closeness of the space, and somehow, it made the air between you feel even thinner.

the drive wasn’t long, but the silence stretched it thin, pulling the minutes like thread unraveling beneath the weight of something unspoken. the low hum of the engine beneath your feet seemed louder than the voices drifting lazily from the backseat—soft, distant, dissolving somewhere in the space between.

wonbin sat just inches away, his hands loose on the steering wheel, gaze fixed ahead, but his presence filled the van in a way that made the air feel heavier. the others kept talking, their laughter rising and falling in soft waves behind you, but it might as well have been static—background noise swallowed by the steady loop of your thoughts.

you hadn’t stopped thinking about it—the way he looked at you.

it wasn’t the brush of his hand against your wrist, though the ghost of that touch lingered somewhere beneath your skin, light but inescapable. no, it was the eyes that met yours in the moments after—the quiet weight in them, dark and searching, like he was trying to find something he couldn’t quite grasp.

it hadn’t left you.

even now, as the van eased to a stop and the low rumble of the engine faded into nothing, the weight of that look sat with you still, pressing into your ribs like an ache that refused to dissolve.

gunil was the first to move, his shoulder bumping into hongjoong’s as he twisted toward the door, hands planting against the seat as he shoved it open with one easy motion. the hinges groaned softly, the cool air rushing in like a breath of relief as gunil climbed out, stretching with the exaggerated groan of someone who had no right to be as energized as he was.

“finally,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders back. “felt like we were in there for hours.”

you didn’t follow—not yet.

your fingers curled around the handle, but the metal beneath your palm felt colder than it should have, grounding you in place even as the others began to filter out. the van felt safer somehow, quieter, like it might anchor you if you sat there long enough. the air, sharp against your bare arms, made you shiver, but you stayed rooted to the seat, watching the way the night folded softly around the edges of the open door.

wonbin didn’t move either.

his hand slipped from the steering wheel, falling to his lap, but he didn’t make any effort to climb out. instead, his gaze flickered toward you, lingering for just a second longer than it needed to—long enough for your breath to catch at the back of your throat.

but he didn’t say anything and neither did you.

his hands rested loosely on the steering wheel, fingers relaxed but unmoving, as if he had no intention of starting the car just yet. his head tipped slightly toward the window, eyes half-lidded beneath the faint wash of streetlights that crept through the windshield. the soft amber glow caught on the sharp lines of his profile—the slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw—illuminating him in fragments that felt too fleeting, like something slipping just out of reach.

the slow drag of his thumb across the leather beneath his palm was the only motion, tracing faint, absent-minded circles against the steering wheel. there was something deliberate about it, like he was grounding himself, tethering his thoughts to the sensation beneath his skin.

“everything okay?”

his voice slipped through the quiet, soft but clear enough to cut through the distant hum of laughter echoing from the house behind you. it wasn’t intrusive—barely louder than the rustle of leaves stirring in the night air—but there was something careful in the way he asked, like he’d been holding the question back until now.

you nodded once, quick and automatic, but the weight pressing against your shoulders told a different story. wonbin didn’t shift, but his gaze slid sideways, cutting through the thin space between you, lingering just long enough to steal the air from your lungs.

“you look good tonight.”

the words didn’t fall lightly. they weren’t tossed carelessly into the dark, the way gunil’s playful teasing had been, or wrapped in laughter the way yunjin’s voice had sounded when she zipped you into the dress hours earlier.

no—wonbin said it like it meant something, like it was a quiet truth that had pressed too long against the edge of his tongue and slipped free before he could stop it.

and just like that, the world inside the car shifted.

the compliment slipped beneath your skin, warm and unsettling, curling in the spaces you tried to keep untouched. you felt it settle low in your stomach, heavy and relentless, refusing to let go even as you glanced away, fixing your gaze on the house glowing faintly through the windshield.

but his eyes stayed. they lingered, pressing against your profile, unwavering in their weight. even as yunjin’s voice echoed from the front door, her bright laughter cutting through the night as she called for you to hurry inside, the heat of wonbin’s stare didn’t fade.

it lingered—burned—long after his gaze finally drifted away.

you followed the others toward the entrance, but the sound of wonbin’s footsteps trailing behind you felt louder than the music bleeding out from the house.

“now this is what i call a party,” gunil mused, the grin evident in his tone even as his back turned toward you.

the music throbbed low beneath your skin long before you even crossed the threshold, the bass a steady pulse that seemed to bleed through the walls and out into the night. the house was already alive, windows cracked open to let the heat spill out onto the damp street, but it did little to temper the weight pressing into your chest—the kind of heaviness that sat just beneath the surface, quiet but impossible to shake.

the house is alive with movement and sound, the heavy throb of bass reverberating through the floorboards, puling beneath your feet like a second heartbeat as laughter spills out in waves that stretch and ripple through the warm, hazy air.

there’s a weight to it, something tangible in the press of bodies that slide past one another in the narrow hallways, something that clings to your skin like the faint, sticky sheen left behind by too much heat and too little space. the low hum of conversation ebbs and flows, mingling with the faint trace of smoke curling out from the back porch and the sweet, syrupy tang of alcohol that seems to settle on your tongue without warning, as if the air itself is thick with it.

hongjoong and gunil were the first to drift off, their footsteps already echoing toward the kitchen before the door had fully shut behind them. gunil’s laughter trailed after them, his arm still draped casually over hongjoong’s shoulder as if the two had done this a hundred times before. they slipped through the crowd with ease—comfortable, familiar—like the night belonged to them, stitched into their skin long before this moment.

yunjin and minjeong didn’t follow.

yunjin caught your wrist gently, keeping close as the current of bodies pushed past, her gaze flickering across the room before she leaned in, voice barely louder than a whisper.

“we’re staying with you tonight. no vanishing acts.”

minjeong hummed her agreement beside you, arms crossed as she glanced toward the thick crowd gathering by the bar, unimpressed but unwavering. she didn’t need to say anything to confirm it—the weight of her presence at your side already spoke volumes.

wonbin lingered near the door, his hand brushing against the frame as he stepped inside, but his eyes were already on you. he didn’t move further, instead, his gaze shifted slowly, skimming over the crowded room as if he was searching for something—or maybe waiting.

the soft glow from the living room stretched across the sharp lines of his face, casting half of him in warm gold while shadows dipped beneath his jaw, the faint spill of light catching in his dark hair.

you felt the moment his attention flicked back toward you.

but yunjin’s arm looped through yours then, tugging you gently toward the living room. minjeong trailed just behind, a silent shadow at your side.

you didn’t look back, but you didn’t need to. wonbin saw the two of them anchored beside you—one glance, and his posture shifted, subtle but telling. his hand slipped from the doorway, and without a word, he disappeared into the crowd, the flicker of his presence folding into the blur of people before you could even exhale.

time blurred beneath the steady thrum of music, the house growing warmer with each passing hour as more bodies pressed into the narrow spaces, their laughter rising and falling in waves that seemed to crash against the walls. you stayed anchored near the edge of the room, where the lights didn’t quite reach, the condensation from your untouched glass pooling against your palm, forgotten.

yunjin’s arm looped comfortably around your shoulder, her weight pressing lightly into your side, while minjeong leaned against the wall next to you, arms crossed and gaze sharp as ever. they had barely left your side, brushing off invitations and whispered suggestions with casual ease, their presence unwavering like a pair of quiet sentinels.

you tried to appreciate it—tried to let the comfort of their loyalty settle somewhere beneath the ache still blooming in your chest—but the guilt curled in anyway, creeping up your throat as the night stretched on.

“you guys don’t have to hover, you know,” you said, forcing a faint smile that felt thin even as you tried to keep your tone light.

“i’m not going to combust if you leave me alone for five minutes.”

yunjin’s eyes flicked toward you, her head tilting slightly in mock consideration.

“no, but you might slip out the back door if we’re not paying attention. remember that thing you do?”

minjeong snorted softly, barely concealing her amusement.

“i swear i’m fine.” you laughed under your breath, nudging yunjin’s arm with your elbow.

“seriously. go have fun. those two guys haven’t stopped staring at you since we got here.”

yunjin glanced toward the dancefloor, where two boys stood awkwardly pretending not to be watching your group, their heads dipping closer to each other every time yunjin looked in their direction.

“not really my type,” yunjin mused, but her gaze lingered a second longer than necessary.

“mine neither,” minjeong added, though the flicker of curiosity in her expression didn’t quite match her words.

you shook your head, rolling your eyes playfully.

“okay, maybe not, but you can still dance with them for a bit. go. i’ll be right here when you get back.”

yunjin hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around your shoulder, but minjeong was already tugging at her wrist, urging her toward the floor.

“we’ll be close,” yunjin relented, but the teasing edge to her voice had softened, and she gave your arm one last squeeze before letting go.

you tilt the glass loosely in your hand, watching the way the condensation pools along the edges before slipping down your fingers in slow, deliberate rivulets, the coolness of it sharp against your palm, grounding you in a way that feels fleeting at best.

the drink sits half-forgotten between sips that burn just enough to keep you anchored, but not nearly enough to dull the ache that coils deeper with every passing second spent in this room, in this house, in this night that stretches endlessly ahead of you.

this was supposed to be enough.

you told yourself the music would drown it out, that the drinks yunjin kept sliding into your hand would blur the sharp ache sitting just beneath your ribs. that if you stayed in motion, if you stayed laughing and moving and tilting your head just right when someone leaned in a little too close, it would feel like the version of yourself you tried so hard to convince everyone you were.

but it doesn’t. nothing about this night fills the hollow space curling tighter inside you.

not the taste of liquor that lingers too long on your tongue, nor the glittering haze of strangers’ smiles catching faintly in the flicker of the lights overhead.

your focus drifts, unraveling itself from the music and the crowd until it finds him, as it always does.

wonbin stood at the far end of the bar, the faint glow of low-hanging lights casting him in soft, uneven shadows that stretched long across the counter’s edge. he leaned against it with the kind of ease that looked practiced but never forced, like the moment bent itself around him, settling to fit the sharp cut of his frame as if he’d always belonged there. one hand rested loosely along the curve of the counter, fingertips tracing faint circles against the glassy surface, while the other curled around the neck of a drink he hadn’t touched in what felt like forever.

it was the posture—that posture—that made it impossible to look away.

relaxed but deliberate, as if even the smallest shift of his weight could ripple through the room unnoticed but not unfelt. there was something magnetic in the quiet stillness of him, something that tugged at the edges of your awareness, making the noise around him feel like static.

his hair—still damp from the heat inside—fell across his forehead in careless strands, sticking just enough to hint at the lingering warmth beneath his skin. the collar of his shirt dipped low, the fabric loose where it sloped along his collarbone, revealing the faintest sliver of skin that seemed to catch the light in a way that made it impossible not to stare. the shadows chased the curve of his throat, dark where the soft dip met his chest, and you hated the way your gaze lingered there—drawn to the movement of his hand as it flexed gently against the glass.

he hadn’t even taken a sip, and yet, he seemed perfectly content to let the moment pass him by, standing there like the night revolved around him—like he could shape the room without lifting a finger.

there were girls—there always were—hovering just close enough to brush against him, their eyes bright, shoulders angled inward as if pulled by the steady gravity that followed wherever he went. one leaned in closer than the others, her arm barely grazing his as she tipped her head to say something, the soft lilt of her voice swallowed by the music but somehow still there, threading through the low hum of the bar like the faintest echo of something familiar.

you told yourself not to look. not to watch the way her fingertips skimmed along the inside of his wrist, lingering longer than they needed to, or how his head dipped just slightly—just enough to catch the words she pressed into the space between them.

but your gaze betrayed you, it always did. and the worst part?it shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.

you’ve told yourself that a hundred times before, whispered it like a quiet mantra beneath your breath on nights just like this one, nights when the room feels too small and the space between you stretches impossibly wide, no matter how near he stands. but the truth is, it does matter—more than it should, more than you’ll ever let him see, and the realization of it settles deep in your chest, heavy and unrelenting as you swallow another mouthful of liquor that does nothing to soften the edges.

the music shifted, the tempo rising like the pulse of something urgent, threading through the thick air in heavy waves. for a fleeting second, you thought about leaving—letting the crowd pull you under, dissolving into the blur of bodies where faces became indistinct and the weight of your thoughts might slip away beneath the noise.

the idea curled at the edge of your mind, tempting in its simplicity, and your feet hesitated, the first step backward already sinking into the crowded floor. but before you could disappear into the current of people, his eyes lifted—like they had been waiting for yours to follow.

the connection is immediate, electric in a way that catches you off guard, locking you in place as the noise and the heat and the blur of the party around you fades into something distant, something small and irrelevant beneath the weight of his gaze.

there’s nothing hurried in the way he looks at you, his attention trailing slowly from the slope of your shoulder down to the dip of your collarbone, lingering there for just a second too long before sliding lower to trace the curve of your waist beneath the silk that clings faintly to your skin, each movement deliberate and measured, as if he’s committing the shape of you to memory in a way that feels far too intimate for a crowded room.

your breath catches, heart stuttering painfully beneath the pressure of his stare, and even as the weight of it pulls tighter around your chest, you hold it, unable to move, unwilling to look away as something unfamiliar and unsettling flares quietly in the narrow space between you.

but it doesn’t last.

and then it broke.

the shift was subtle but absolute, the moment fracturing as one of the girls beside him leaned in, her fingers curling softly around his wrist. whatever she whispered barely stirred the air, but it reached him, tugging at his focus until his gaze slipped from yours—falling away like the last flicker of a dying ember.

cold washed over you in its absence.

it’s almost laughable, the way your chest aches in his absence, as if he’d been standing beside you rather than across the room, but the feeling remains, gnawing steadily beneath the surface even as you lift your glass and down what’s left of it in one long, desperate swallow.

yunjin’s gaze flicked toward you, cutting through the blur of the crowd with the kind of precision that made it impossible to pretend you hadn’t been caught. her eyes, warm but sharp, searched yours as if peeling back the thin veneer you had tried to layer over your expression.

you felt the weight of her unspoken question—the slight tilt of her head, the pause in the way her hands moved as she danced—like she was already preparing to step away, to make her way back to your side the moment you needed her to.

but you wouldn’t let her, not tonight.

you forced a smile, light and easy, lifting your glass just high enough for her to see, as if the gesture alone could convince her. it barely touched your eyes, the strain tugging faintly at the corners of your mouth, but you held it there anyway, willing it to settle long enough for her to believe it.

yunjin’s gaze lingered, doubt flickering behind the soft glow of party lights, but after a moment, she nodded, her attention shifting back to the boy in front of her—the one who hadn’t stopped trying to make her laugh since the music started.

her laugh rang out a second later, bright and careless as she twirled beneath his arm, and relief washed over you in slow, cooling waves. you wanted that for her—for all of them.

even if you couldn’t quite reach for it yourself.

you let the smile drop the second her back was turned, the faint ache pressing back into place, familiar as the pulse that thrummed low beneath the music.

and even as you try to follow her lead, try to let the music and the drinks and the night pull you back into the moment, your attention drifts, seeking him out once more, as it always does.

because no matter how much you tell yourself to stop, no matter how much you try to bury the feeling that festers low and bitter in your chest, you know the truth of it. it’s always him and it always will be.

the bass seemed to sink beneath your skin, rattling through your bones in slow, pulsing waves, each throb heavier than the last as it settled low in your chest. the music wasn’t just sound anymore—it was weight, pressing against your senses until the edges of the room began to blur, the faint hum of overlapping voices weaving together into something indistinct, hollow, and distant.

the warmth from the alcohol you’d downed earlier lingered in the back of your throat, burning faintly as it mixed with the stagnant air thick with perfume, sweat, and the sharp bite of something metallic that curled at the edges of your tongue. you blinked against the haze, but it didn’t help, the dim lights scattering in soft halos across the glossy floor beneath your feet, and for a moment, the entire club felt like it was spinning in slow motion—tilting just slightly off its axis.

someone brushed past you, their laughter loud and sharp in your ear, but it dissolved as quickly as it came, melting back into the crowd that swayed and pulsed in time with the relentless beat. the room felt too small, too close, the bodies pressing in around you until your breath came shallow and uneven, and suddenly the need to escape was undeniable, coiling tight beneath your ribs until it was all you could focus on.

your grip tightened briefly around the edge of the table, fingertips sliding against the slick surface as you steadied yourself, but even the contact felt fleeting—like you weren’t fully anchored in the moment. the room was shifting around you, or maybe it was just the alcohol catching up, burning low and slow beneath your skin, trailing through your veins in a way that made the lights smear at the edges.

the crowd stretched out ahead of you, bodies tangled together in clusters that swayed lazily with the rhythm, and for a moment, the space between the exit and where you stood felt impossible to cross. the music pressed down harder, vibrating through the soles of your boots, each beat crawling up your legs and settling uneasily beneath your ribs. your heart thudded in sync with the bass, every pulse a sharp reminder of the weight you couldn’t shake.

you started moving without fully realizing it, your body threading instinctively between the groups that filled the room. each step felt too quick and too slow all at once, the ache in your chest urging you forward, while the drag of the alcohol in your bloodstream blurred everything else, dulling your senses. the faces around you drifted past in streaks of warm skin and glittering eyes, laughter blooming somewhere to your right, but the sounds were muted—faint echoes that faded the further you pushed through the crowd.

the air thickened the closer you got to the staircase, curling against the back of your neck, hot and stifling, until the ache sitting low in your chest unfurled into something sharper—more desperate. the throb of the music swelled, loud enough to rattle through your teeth, and by the time you reached the edge of the room, it felt like the floor itself was vibrating beneath your feet, threatening to pull you under if you stopped for even a second.

the stairway stretched upward in front of you, narrow and half-lit, the kind of forgotten corner of the house that felt colder—untouched by the heat and pulse of the party below. each step creaked faintly beneath your weight, the sound swallowed quickly by the bass that still throbbed through the floor, echoing distantly in your chest like an unwanted second heartbeat.

the further you climbed, the heavier the air seemed to grow, thick with the lingering scent of alcohol and something sharper—regret, maybe, or the remnants of disappointment clinging stubbornly beneath your skin.

it wasn’t just the crowd pressing too close or the warmth prickling along the nape of your neck that drove you here. was the way wonbin hadn’t looked at you—*not really.* the brief flicker of his gaze had slipped past you too easily, and the hollow ache it left behind had settled deep, curling into a shape you couldn’t shake.

climbing the stairs felt like trying to outrun it, though you knew you wouldn’t. still, the slow burn of each step beneath your feet offered something—distance, if nothing else. distance from the music, the stifling heat, the soft edges of laughter curling out of mouths that weren’t yours.

the hallway was hushed, the faint thrum of music filtering up through the floorboards like a distant storm, softened by layers of wood and space. the air felt sharper here, cooler against the back of your neck, slipping beneath the collar of your shirt in a way that made your skin prickle.

it was a relief—a stark contrast to the heavy, suffocating warmth that lingered downstairs, where bodies pressed too close and the weight of Wonbin’s absence felt louder than the music itself. one of the doors stood slightly ajar, pale light spilling out in a thin, uneven line across the hallway, and without thinking, you slipped inside.

the room was small and sparse, walls bare except for faint smudges where posters once hung, the faintest scent of something sweet—cigarette smoke, maybe, or someone’s forgotten perfume—still hanging in the air. you leaned back against the door until it clicked shut, the latch settling quietly, and for a long moment, you simply stood there, the cold seeping in through the soles of your shoes.

eventually, the weight in your chest pulled you down, and you slid carefully to the floor, knees bent loosely in front of you as your shoulder pressed into the wall’s smooth surface. the floor was cool against your thigh, grounding you in a way the alcohol couldn’t, and the pressure of your head tipping back against the wall felt like the only thing holding you together—fragile, maybe, but steady.

his name felt like an echo that refused to quiet, reverberating through the hollow spaces inside you, filling the cracks you hadn’t realized were there until he slipped between them. it didn’t matter how much you tried to push him out—the memory of him was woven too tightly into the fabric of your thoughts, unraveling only when the night stretched long and sleepless.

you hated how easily he occupied the quiet, how the shape of him still pressed against the edges of your consciousness even now, as if the ghost of his touch lingered beneath your skin. wonbin had always been like that—effortless. the way he moved, the way he laughed, the way his eyes softened in fleeting moments that weren’t meant for you but still burned when they landed there.

even after he’d left you splintered, after his gaze had flickered past yours like you weren’t worth lingering on, some part of you remained tethered to him, as if your heart hadn’t gotten the message that it no longer belonged to you. It ached in the worst ways—quietly, but persistently, like a dull bruise beneath the surface.

you told yourself it wasn’t love, but that felt like a lie too fragile to hold. whatever it was, it kept you restless, fingers curled into the sheets at night, wide-eyed beneath the ceiling, counting the faint shadows cast by distant headlights that slipped through the blinds. the weight of it pressed into your ribs, deep and aching, refusing to be ignored, and even now, in the stillness of this room, he lingered—always lingering.

you’d told yourself a hundred times that he was never yours to begin with, but somehow the words never felt true enough to settle. they sat heavy and sharp on your tongue, cutting deeper each time you whispered them beneath your breath, but they never bled the ache from your chest.

the truth was colder than you expected, more merciless in the way it wrapped around you at night, curling tight until it became something you couldn’t shake. he had always belonged to everyone—his smiles, his laughter, the fleeting glances that seemed to rest on strangers more easily than they ever landed on you.

and yet, there had been moments, soft and fleeting, that felt like they were carved out for you alone. the way his eyes lingered just a little too long during late-night rehearsals, or the gentle brush of his hand against your arm as he passed by—small, thoughtless things that shouldn’t have mattered but stayed with you long after they happened. you tried to convince yourself it was imagined, something you stitched together in the dark corners of your mind when sleep wouldn’t come, but it didn’t make the ache any easier to bear.

accepting that he would never be yours felt less like letting go and more like tearing something vital from the hollow beneath your ribs, leaving behind only empty space and the echoes of what could have been.

you barely registered the creak of the door over the hum in your head, too lost in the tangle of your own thoughts to notice the subtle shift in the air. the weight in your chest had grown familiar by now, wrapping around you like second skin, and the idea of him was as constant as your breath—so much so that when you sensed him, it felt like just another manifestation of the way he lingered behind your eyelids when you closed your eyes.

you didn’t look up, unwilling to break the fragile thread of distance you were clinging to, even if it was only in your mind. but then the faint scent of him swept in, heady and unmistakable—the sharp bite of leather softened by something warmer, something that made your stomach twist in ways you wished it wouldn’t. it settled around you slowly, wrapping itself into the cracks like it had every right to be there, and for a moment you thought maybe you were imagining it.

but then the air shifted again, and you felt it—the briefest brush of his sleeve grazing against your arm, the supple texture of worn leather skimming over your skin like a phantom touch that lingered long after it passed. the heat of him followed, subtle but undeniable, radiating outward in soft waves that melted into the space between you until the room felt smaller, more intimate in a way that made your pulse stutter unevenly beneath your ribs.

your eyes flickered open, slow and hesitant, and there he was—real. wonbin had slipped into the room quietly, his figure half-shadowed by the faint glow of the hallway behind him, but even in the dim light, there was no mistaking the way he filled the space. he didn’t say anything, not right away, but the weight of his presence alone was enough to unravel the careful threads you’d tried to pull around yourself, leaving you exposed beneath the quiet intensity of his gaze.

the silence between you felt fragile, stretched so thin that you swore he could hear the erratic stutter of your heart as it climbed higher into your throat. each beat seemed louder than the last, pounding relentlessly beneath your ribs, and you hated how impossible it was to quiet the tremble lingering just beneath your skin.

wonbin hadn’t moved, but the space between you felt smaller with every second that passed, his proximity dissolving the delicate barrier you were clinging to. he was close enough now that you could make out the faint scattering of beauty marks that traced a path along his neck, each one as familiar as the chords of a song you’d memorized by heart.

your gaze lingered there longer than it should have, following the subtle curve of his throat to where his collar dipped slightly, exposing just enough skin to remind you how many times you’d pretended not to notice. his hair had grown since the last time you were this close, strands falling in soft waves just past the nape of his neck, curling slightly at the ends in a way that made your stomach twist.

it was such a small detail, but it ached—the memory of the last time you’d been beside him like this unraveling in your mind without permission. you remembered the heat first.

the way it pooled low in your stomach, twisting tighter with every soft press of his lips against your skin, with every inch of space he closed between you until his weight pressed fully into you, warm and grounding. the air had thickened, heavy and languid, settling between each breath like honey—stretching time, making every second feel slower, sweeter, as if the night itself didn’t want to end.

his touch wasn’t hurried.

it lingered—each drag of his palm along your waist deliberate, like he was memorizing the curve of you beneath his hands, mapping the distance between your ribs and the dip of your hip with reverent care. his fingers curled against the small of your back, tugging you just a little closer, until you could feel every shift of his body, the subtle ripple of muscle beneath smooth skin as he moved.

and god, the way he looked at you.

dark eyes half-lidded, heavy with something that felt almost fragile in its intensity, like he wasn’t quite sure if he should hold you tighter or let go before he lost himself completely.

the weight of it all tugged at something sensitive beneath your ribs, sharp and tender in the same breath, and before it could spiral further, you forced your eyes away, grounding yourself in the faint cracks along the floorboards instead. The ache dulled, but it didn’t disappear, settling into a quiet hum that you tried to ignore as the seconds stretched on.

the silence continued to stretch unbearably thin, so fragile you thought even the sound of your breath might shatter it. his presence filled the room so effortlessly, as if he belonged there, while you sat pressed against the wall, arms wrapped loosely around your knees in a dress that suddenly felt too thin for how exposed you felt beneath his gaze.

the weight of it lingered, dragging over your skin like static, and before you could stop yourself, the question slipped out—soft but edged with something you couldn’t quite name.

“what are you doing here?”

your voice felt small in the stillness, cracking slightly at the edges, but he caught it anyway. wonbin’s head tilted just slightly, dark hair falling messily into his eyes, but he didn’t answer right away. instead, his gaze traced the soft curve of your shoulder, dipping lower to where the thin fabric of your dress stretched delicately over your knee.

his eyes lingered there—too long. it sent a flicker of heat curling under your skin, the air between you growing heavier, suffocating in the worst way.

“thought you might need some company,” he said at last, his voice low but light, like he hadn’t just unraveled something fragile inside you.

the corner of his mouth lifted, almost teasing, but it didn’t meet his eyes.

he shifted closer then, slow and deliberate, until his thigh rested faintly against yours, the leather of his jacket brushing against the bare skin of your arm. the touch burned—not enough to hurt, but just enough to stay. you couldn’t ignore the heat radiating off him, seeping through the space between you, making the thin straps of your dress feel insignificant.

you swallowed hard, but it did nothing to loosen the ache curling deep in your chest.

“i’m sure those girls downstairs won’t be too happy you left them behind,” you muttered, forcing your gaze down to the floor, watching the way the shadows stretched long beneath the soft pool of light overhead.

his chuckle was soft, breathy—almost like he wasn’t supposed to let it slip.

“they’ll survive,” he said casually, but the weight in his voice was anything but.

you could feel him watching you, the intensity of his stare drawing heat to your cheeks, and the longer you sat there, the more suffocating the quiet became. his shoulder grazed yours once more, subtle but intentional, and the faint pressure of it sent a shiver down your spine, your body betraying you in ways you wished it wouldn’t.

the worst part was that he didn’t even have to try.

wonbin existed in a way that made the space around him feel smaller, tighter—like he could pull someone in without even meaning to, and you hated how easily you slipped under that gravity. even now, with him sitting just inches away, you felt like you were falling all over again, even though you swore you’d stopped letting yourself trip over him a long time ago.

but here you were.

and there he was—close enough to touch.

you kept your gaze trained somewhere near the floor, fixated on the shadows stretching beneath the doorframe, but it did little to steady the fragile rhythm of your breath. the warmth radiating off wonbin, so close yet still untouchable, felt like it could unravel you if you weren’t careful.

you could already feel it—the delicate thread of composure fraying at the edges, pulled tighter by the way his thigh rested just against yours, the soft brush of his jacket sleeve lingering faintly on your arm like an imprint you wouldn’t be able to shake. you told yourself not to look at him, not to indulge the ache curling low in your stomach, but your body betrayed you.

before you could stop it, your eyes lifted—drawn to him like the ocean dragged toward the shore, inevitable and unrelenting.

he was beautiful in the most dangerous way, and you hated how easily the thought slipped into your mind, settling there like it belonged. the faint glow of the light softened the edges of him, pooling along the curve of his jaw and catching faintly on the strands of hair that brushed past his eyes, longer than you remembered.

his lips, slightly parted in the kind of breathless stillness that felt unintentional, twisted faintly into something that wasn’t quite a smile but held the same weight. the soft dip in his collarbone was visible just beneath the open neckline of his shirt, and you caught yourself lingering too long there, following the path down to where his arm rested loosely against his knee, his fingers tapping thoughtlessly at his jeans.

every small movement felt amplified in the silence, each rise and fall of his chest leaving you breathless in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol burning low in your veins.

he hadn’t said a word, but he didn’t need to. the flicker of his gaze—the way his eyes slid just slightly toward you without fully turning his head—was enough to confirm what you already knew.

he felt it. he knew you were staring, drinking him in piece by piece as if you could commit him to memory, as if looking at him long enough would soften the hollow ache sitting low in your chest. but he said nothing, and somehow, that made it worse.

your throat tightened, heat crawling up the back of your neck until you had to look away, forcing your gaze back down to the floor as if grounding yourself to something steady might keep you from unraveling entirely, but it was too late.

wonbin had always known how to linger in the spaces between, how to slip beneath your skin without trying—and even now, even in the heavy quiet of that room, he was everywhere.

his voice cut through the stillness, soft but steady, curling around you in the quiet like he’d been waiting for the right moment to speak.

“everything’s good with us, right?"

the words felt too careful, too deliberate to be anything but intentional, and for a fleeting second, you forgot how to breathe. your heart lurched, betraying you in the worst way—loud and erratic, hammering against your ribcage with a force you were sure he could hear in the silence that followed.

his eyes remained fixed ahead, but the weight of his question hung between you like a thread pulled too tight, stretched to the point of snapping. you wanted to say something, to let the answer slip from your lips in a way that felt casual, indifferent—yes, of course, why wouldn’t it be?

but the words caught somewhere deep in your throat, tangling with the mess of thoughts you’d been desperately trying to ignore all night. had you been too obvious? had your eyes lingered too long, or had the silence stretched a little too thin, leaving just enough space for him to notice the way you’d withdrawn without meaning to?

you forced yourself to stay still, afraid that even the slightest shift might betray the storm unraveling beneath your skin. his gaze flickered sideways, catching the faintest movement in the corner of his eye, and your body tensed instinctively under his attention.

the moment stretched endlessly, the pulse in your neck thrumming painfully as you tried to gather your composure, but your heart wouldn’t cooperate. it never did when it came to him.

wonbin shifted slightly, the movement soft but deliberate, like he was giving you space to speak. when you didn’t—when the silence held firm between you—he exhaled quietly, his gaze dropping to where his hands rested loosely on his lap.

“i just mean… you feel far away lately. like you’re here but not really present.”

his voice dipped softer, low enough that it barely cut through the faint thrum of music bleeding from downstairs. the kind of softness that didn’t belong to him—like he wasn’t used to carrying words that fragile, as if he wasn’t sure how they’d land but couldn’t bring himself to swallow them.

his eyes lingered on you, dark and steady, searching for something he wasn’t even sure he’d recognize if he found it. there was a quiet weight there, the kind that settled in the spaces between what was said and what wasn’t, stretching taut between the inches of air keeping you apart.

his fingers twitched absently against the zipper of his jacket, tugging it up halfway only to drag it back down again, the faint metallic rasp echoing louder than it should have in the heavy silence that had started to press in around you both.

the way he fidgeted—restless and distracted—felt out of place, a subtle unraveling at the edges of someone who was always so composed, so maddeningly effortless in everything he did.

“you’ve been slipping away.”

the words came quieter, like they almost weren’t meant to be said aloud, but once they were, there was no pulling them back. his gaze never wavered, pinning you in place as if daring you to deny it. there was no accusation in his voice—just something heavier, something that sat low in his chest, threaded through the spaces between each word.

“i see it even when you think i don’t.”

his brows knitted together, barely, as if the distance between you was something tangible, something he’d been measuring long before this moment. when his gaze dipped, it wasn’t aimless—it followed the worn path of your footsteps, tracking every inch of space you put between him and the truth you refused to say aloud, before finally settling back on you, sharp and searching..

and for the first time in a long time, he looked… bothered. like the distance between you had started to gnaw at him too. like maybe, just maybe, he felt it too.

the words pressed into your chest, sinking deep, and for a brief second, you wished he’d left them unsaid he always had a way of noticing the things you thought you hid well, and somehow, it made the walls you’d tried to build feel thinner, like he could see right through the cracks you’d been so careful to ignore.

his eyes lifted then, searching yours for something you weren’t sure you could give, and you felt it again—that unbearable heat creeping up the back of your neck, curling under your skin until you had to grip the hem of your dress just to keep your hands from trembling.

you could feel him watching you, waiting for some kind of reassurance, but the words sat heavy in your throat, unwilling to rise.because what were you supposed to say to that?

that he was the reason you felt far away? that you were retreating not because you wanted to, but because staying too close—letting him see too much—hurt more than you knew how to explain?

you swallowed, forcing the breath caught in your throat to steady itself before it could betray you.

"i’m fine," you said, and somehow, the words slipped out smoother than you expected—so smooth they almost felt real.

your voice didn’t crack, didn’t waver, but it sat uncomfortably in the air, stretched thin like a wire ready to snap

“i’s just the tour. long nights, long drives… it’s catching up to me, i guess." you tacked the last part on casually, adding a faint shrug for good measure, hoping the ease in your posture would sell the lie well enough to make him stop looking at you like that.

but he didn’t. wonbin’s eyes narrowed slightly, just enough for the weight of his gaze to press heavier against your skin, and you felt the shift before he even spoke.

"that’s not it," he said simply. there was no hesitation, no room for you to slip through the cracks of false reassurance.

“you’ve been different since… that night."

the words hung in the air, suspended like smoke, curling between you until it felt like they left shadows against the walls. you wished he hadn’t said it, hadn’t pulled the memory from where you buried it because now it was here again, sitting just between your ribs, burning slow and steady like it never really left.

you stiffened involuntarily, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your dress as you glanced down at the floor.

“i don’t know what you mean.”

you meant for it to sound light, dismissive, but the words landed wrong—strained and thin, like they didn’t quite fit into the space they were meant to fill.

“yeah, you do.”

his voice wasn’t confrontational, but firm.

“it was just a night, wonbin. it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

wonbin leaned forward slightly, enough that his knee brushed against yours, and the faint press of it left your pulse stumbling over itself. his eyes searched yours, flickering with something unreadable—something quiet, but not distant.

"you didn’t hate it, did you?"

the question lanced through you, cutting clean and sharp, and for a second, you felt like the breath had been stolen from your lungs. your fingers curled tighter against the hem of your dress, twisting the fabric slowly between your knuckles as if that might somehow keep the frustration bubbling beneath your skin from rising to the surface.

how could he not see it? the thought pulsed, loud and sharp in your chest, echoing in the spaces he left bare with his questions. was it really that impossible for him to imagine the truth? that the weight sitting between you wasn’t regret, wasn’t confusion, but something far worse—something you’d been carrying alone for far too long.

you shook your head, slow and deliberate, eyes fixed on the faint cracks spidering along the floorboards, unwilling to meet the gaze burning quietly into the side of your face. you didn’t trust yourself to speak.

wonbin exhaled softly, the sound barely more than a breath, but the subtle shift in his posture was unmistakable. his shoulders relaxed, the tension unwinding from where it had been coiled, and for a fleeting second, his relief settled over the room like the soft hum of static.

it felt like a weight pressing deeper into your chest.

"so… what is it then?"

the question sliced through the stillness, pulling you apart in ways you didn’t expect.

there was no teasing lilt in his voice this time, no quiet smugness lingering at the corners of his mouth. he wasn’t brushing it off, wasn’t laughing or letting the moment slip through his fingers the way you thought he would.

he was waiting, and that made everything worse.

"i won’t push," he said finally, his voice dipping low, rough at the edges but laced with something gentler. "but… i’m here, you know? if you ever feel like talking."

the words settled heavily over you, pressing into the ache sitting just beneath your ribs, and for a second, it felt like the air in the room had grown thicker—almost too much to swallow. you nodded faintly, the motion small and fragile, but even that felt unsteady beneath the weight curling in your chest.

a hum slipped from your throat, soft but strangled, and you hated the way it felt—how it barely held together when the edges of your composure were already splintering. your fingers tightened against the thin fabric of your dress, nails biting faintly into your palm as if the sharpness might keep the burning behind your eyes from spilling over.

you forced it back—swallowed it down—until the ache dulled into something manageable, something small enough to keep hidden just beneath the surface.

wonbin didn’t look at you after that. he let the silence linger, stretching wide enough to give you space to gather yourself, and somehow that made it both easier and harder all at once.

the silence between you didn’t dissolve; it thickened, coiling tightly in the narrow space that separated you—if it could even be called that. his knee still brushed faintly against yours, a point of contact so small it shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.

it felt like everything.

the warmth radiating from him seeped beneath your skin, clouding your thoughts, tangling them into a haze that made it hard to remember how to breathe it was overwhelming—the way your pulse tripped over itself, the way the air felt too hot despite the coolness pressing through the wall at your back. and then he looked at you.

not in passing, not like before. this time, his eyes dipped low, slow and deliberate, dragging over the shape of your shoulders, the soft curve of your collarbone, before resting somewhere just below your chin.

his gaze lingered, dark and steady, tracing the delicate slope of your collarbone and the faint rise and fall of your chest as if committing each subtle detail to memory.

“you look pretty.”

the words slipped out quietly, but they landed like stones, rippling through the space between you, heavy in a way that felt irreversible.

it wasn’t the first time he’d said it. you remembered the low murmur of those same words in the soft, dim light of his car—the way his hand brushed the steering wheel as if the compliment had been an afterthought, something so simple yet lingering long after the moment passed. but even then, there had been sincerity tucked beneath the calm curve of his voice, no trace of jest or casual charm.

and now—now it was different.

his voice carried the weight of something that had been pressing at the edges of him for too long, something unspoken that finally bled through before he could stop it. the words tumbled out like he’d been holding them back, and there was no disguising the way they sat, raw and unpolished, between the two of you.

he wasn’t teasing. there was no faint curl of his lips to soften the blow. just the faintest flicker of hesitation in his eyes, the briefest pause that felt too fragile, too intimate, like even he hadn’t meant to let it slip.

your breath caught, shallow and uneven, and you felt it—the shift in the air, the slow unraveling of the fragile thread you’d been clinging to since the night began.

his eyes hadn’t left yours, hadn’t strayed from the subtle tremor in your hands as they twisted absently against the hem of your dress, the silk wrinkling beneath your fingertips in a way you couldn’t stop.

you wanted to speak, to downplay it, to offer something light that might untangle the knot tightening low in your stomach, but the words wouldn’t come. and he just kept watching, his gaze unwavering, like he was daring you to look away first.

his gaze dipped lower, lingering at the curve of your mouth, and the breath you’d been holding slipped out too sharply, catching in your throat. the words you wanted to say—the easy, dismissive ones that would push him away and smooth over the crackling tension—froze somewhere between your chest and your tongue, heavy and unmoving. His eyes stayed there, dark and unreadable, following the slow press of your teeth as they sank into your lower lip, and for a fleeting second, you thought he might say something—might do something to ease the tension.

but he didn’t.

the air between you felt electric, like a wire pulled too tight, thrumming with an energy that could snap at the slightest movement. you knew you should look away, should peel yourself from the wall and put distance between you, but you couldn’t. your body wouldn’t cooperate, no matter how hard you willed it to listen and his proximity rooted you in place, the heat radiating off him felt like it was soaking into your skin, holding you there.

you swallowed thickly, heart rattling against your ribs, and before the moment could spiral further, you tore your gaze away, dropping your eyes to the floor as if the sight of scuffed floorboards could cool the warmth burning its way beneath your skin. your fingers twitched faintly at your sides, brushing against the soft fabric of your dress, and you bit down harder on your lip, the faint sting grounding you—reminding you.

you can’t do this.

you told yourself to leave—you knew you should. the thought rang loud and clear, rattling through your head with every agonizing second that passed, but your body betrayed you, anchored stubbornly to the spot as if your limbs no longer belonged to you. every inhale felt heavier, weighted down by the intoxicating pull of him, and no matter how fiercely you urged yourself to step back, the space between you felt impossible to cross.

you could already see it—the disappointment written plainly across yunjin’s face, the way her eyes would narrow knowingly, sharp but sympathetic as if she’d been waiting for this moment. minjeong wouldn’t say anything, but you could hear her sigh in your head, that quiet exhale that spoke louder than words, echoing with disapproval she wouldn’t bother to voice.

they were right, you knew they were right.

but it didn’t matter. not now—not when wonbin was this close, his presence consuming every inch of the space around you until it felt like there was nothing left but him. his warmth melted into yours, heady and overwhelming, drowning out the faint hum of music bleeding through the walls, drowning out the echo of reason whispering at the back of your mind.

your pulse betrayed you, thundering beneath your skin in frantic bursts, and you hated how easily he unraveled the parts of you you’d worked so hard to protect. it was overpowering—he was overpowering, and the sheer force of him kept you frozen in place, as if stepping away would only pull you deeper beneath his gravity.

wonbin hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word, but somehow that made everything worse. the absence of distance between you pulsed like a live wire, charged and dangerous, and no matter how hard you tried to focus on anything else—on the scuffed floorboards, on the faint draft creeping in from under the door—your eyes still gravitated back to him, helpless against the current that pulled you under.

the moment unraveled in slow motion, the weight of the silence folding in on itself until there was nothing left to hold it back. wonbin’s eyes flickered down—barely, but enough for you to feel the shift in the air, thick and electric, like the seconds before a storm breaks. your breath caught, lodging somewhere between your chest and throat, but you didn’t pull away.

you couldn’t.

his gaze lingered there, heavy and deliberate, tracing the soft curve of your mouth with an intensity that sent heat rushing to the tips of your fingers.

and then he leaned in.

it wasn’t sudden—not really. his movements were slow, careful, as if giving you space to slip away, to stop this before it crossed the line you’d danced around for so long but you didn’t. you stayed.

and when his lips finally brushed against yours, it was like something inside you cracked open.

the kiss wasn’t soft—it was fire, burning hot and immediate, pouring out of him in a way that stole the breath from your lungs, akin to that night. his hand slid along the side of your neck, fingertips grazing the line of your jaw as if to anchor you there, and you melted beneath it, pressing closer until the space between you no longer existed. his other hand curled loosely at your waist, the warmth of his palm seeping through the thin fabric of your dress, and the sensation made your skin ignite, trembling beneath his touch.

your fingers found the collar of his jacket, clutching at the leather like it might steady you, but nothing felt stable—not with the way his lips moved against yours, slow at first, teasing, before deepening with a hunger that left you dizzy. every brush, every tilt of his head felt deliberate, as if he’d been holding back for far too long, and now there was no reason to.

the kiss twisted something inside you—tight, aching, and impossible to ignore.

your heart raced, thrumming wildly in your chest, but none of it felt overwhelming. if anything, it felt right, as if this was the only way the night could’ve ended, as if every glance, every touch, had been building to this moment, to the way his hands mapped out the curve of your back, pulling you further beneath the weight of him.

and for once, you let it.

you let him drown out the thoughts, the voices, the lingering regret that whispered too loudly in the quiet, because right now, there was only him and that was enough.

the kiss deepened, unraveling slowly but with an urgency that set your skin alight, each brush of his lips coaxing you further under. there was something reckless about the way he kissed you—like he wasn’t thinking, wasn’t holding anything back, and you matched him without hesitation, your body arching instinctively into the pull of him.

his hand splayed wider against your waist, fingers curling slightly as if to draw you impossibly closer, and the pressure sent a rush of heat spiraling down your spine. every point of contact felt amplified—the firm press of his thigh against yours, the way his thumb traced faint circles along your jaw, tilting your face just enough to deepen the connection.

the world outside of this room—the party still thumping below, the haze of alcohol humming faintly in your veins—faded into nothing, drowned out by the slow drag of his mouth against yours. it was intoxicating, the way he kissed you—like he wasn’t just taking his time but memorizing every second of it, and it left you breathless, every part of you humming beneath his touch.

your fingers tightened in the collar of his jacket, nails grazing the cool leather as if anchoring yourself there might keep you steady, but there was no steadiness to be found. the kiss was all-consuming, and you found yourself chasing it, letting him tilt your chin higher as his lips parted slightly, teasing the line between too much and not enough.

a soft, involuntary sound slipped from your throat, and you felt him smile faintly against your mouth, the curve of it somehow making everything worse—because he knew. he knew exactly what he was doing to you, but you didn’t stop him.

his teeth grazed your lower lip, tugging just enough to send a shiver through you, and the low, quiet exhale that followed only fueled the fire blooming steadily in your chest. his touch, light but sure, traced the dip of your spine, fingers ghosting over the thin straps of your dress, and the sheer intimacy of it made your breath hitch, your body pressing flush against his without thought.

the heat between you burned hotter, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you should stop—that this was dangerous, that nothing about this could end neatly—but the thought flickered and died as quickly as it appeared.

right now, with his mouth on yours and his hands steady against your skin, you didn’t care about consequences. all you wanted was him.

when wonbin finally pulled away, it was slow—like he didn’t really want to, like something tethered him to you even as his lips parted from yours. his forehead brushed against yours, faint and fleeting, but he stayed close, so close that you could still feel the warmth of his breath fanning lightly across your skin, each exhale shallow and uneven. his chest rose and fell in rhythm with yours, as if the kiss had unraveled something in him too, something he wasn’t ready to let slip away just yet.

his eyes, wild and dark beneath the faint glow pooling in the corners of the room, searched yours like he was looking for something—confirmation, maybe, or reassurance that you weren’t about to disappear beneath the weight of it all. but you didn’t move, didn’t dare break the fragile thread tying you to him, even as the faint tremble in your hands betrayed the storm still rolling beneath your skin.

wonbin’s gaze flickered, dropping briefly to your lips—swollen and tingling from the heat of his kiss—before trailing back up, locking onto your eyes with an intensity that made your pulse trip over itself. his breathing, still ragged, filled the small space between you, and you could feel the hesitation crackling in the air, as if neither of you could decide whether to pull back or dive in all over again.

but he didn’t move. instead, his thumb brushed faintly over your waist where his hand still rested, light but grounding, as if the smallest shift might break the moment apart completely.

wonbin’s eyes held yours in the dim hush of the room, and there was something there—something fragile, unspoken, pooling beneath the surface in a way that made your chest ache. he looked at you like he wanted to say something, the words balanced on the edge of his tongue, trembling under the weight of the moment that neither of you had fully grasped.

the soft glow of his stare left you breathless, and you felt it—the way your heart tripped violently over itself, as if it could shatter apart at the force of his attention alone.

but before the silence could break, before whatever hung so delicately between you could find the space to bloom, the door creaked open.

your breath hitched, shoulders stiffening instinctively as the soft glow from the hallway spilled in, stretching long shadows across the floor. and there she was—the girl from downstairs, the one who had been tucked neatly beneath wonbin’s arm not long ago, her hair slightly tousled, lips still tinted the same shade of deep red they’d been wrapped around the neck of a bottle earlier.

she arched a brow, leaning casually against the doorframe as if she hadn’t just stepped into something she wasn’t supposed to witness, her gaze flickering between the two of you with barely concealed amusement.

“there you are,” she drawled, crossing her arms loosely over her chest.

her eyes lingered on where wonbin’s hand still rested against your waist, the faint trace of a smirk tugging at her mouth.

“i was just looking for the bathroom, but i guess you found something else to keep you busy.”

the words stung more than you wanted to admit, slicing through the haze of warmth that had settled over your skin like cold water. wonbin subtly pulled away, severing the last thread of contact that tethered him to you.

you felt the absence immediately.

the version of him that had been so close just moments before—the one whose eyes held too much softness, whose breath still lingered faintly against your skin—slipped away just as easily as his hand did. his expression shifted, carefully, subtly, into something more familiar—something easy, like sliding on an old jacket.

“you left pretty quick, you know,” she added, tipping her head as her eyes lingered on him. “i thought you told me to hurry back, that your lips were aching to be kissed.”

her voice dripped with teasing, but there was something sharper hidden beneath it, something that made the air feel heavier than before.

you dropped your gaze, swallowing hard as you willed the heat crawling up your neck to settle, but the damage had already been done. the kiss still lingered on your lips, but now it felt fragile, as if it might slip away entirely beneath the weight of her presence.

and somehow, that silence said more than you wanted it to.

it sank in slowly at first—like ice creeping beneath your skin, cold and unforgiving, before spreading out in sharp, jagged edges that left you raw and exposed. the kiss that had left you breathless, that had ignited something fragile and aching inside you, was nothing more than a fleeting indulgence to him. a moment without consequence. you could see it now, clear as day in the casual way he stood there, unmoved by the intrusion, his hand slipping from your waist with an ease that made your stomach twist.

the bile rose fast, hot and bitter at the back of your throat, chasing the slow-burning alcohol that had once been your only companion tonight. the room tilted slightly as you lurched forward, unsteady on your feet, but the sudden need to get out propelled you before the ground could catch up to you.

the floor felt too solid beneath your heels, yet somehow it still shifted, your legs buckling beneath the weight of disappointment that seemed far heavier than your body could carry.

your fingers grazed the wall, trailing against the plaster for balance, but it did little to steady the frantic thrum of your heart, the erratic pulse thudding painfully beneath your ribs. you didn’t look at him—couldn’t look at him. not when the aftertaste of the kiss still lingered on your lips, mixing bitterly with the sourness rising in your chest.

how could you have been so naive?

the thought struck hard, splintering through the haze clouding your mind. of course, it hadn’t meant anything, not to him.

wonbin shifted in the absence of your closeness, the faint sound of his breath catching like he wanted to say something, but the words never came.

you felt him hesitate, the weight of his indecision thick in the space between you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze—not when the version of him standing there now was the same one you’d always known. the one who smiled too easily, laughed too freely, and kissed you like it was nothing more than a passing moment.

his hand twitched at his side, barely noticeable, but you caught it—the faintest movement, like he wasn’t sure if he should reach for you or let you slip away entirely.

you made the decision for him.

“i should go,” you muttered under your breath, though it hardly mattered if anyone heard you.

a desperate attempt to keep yourself from breaking apart in the same room where you’d just let yourself believe—even for a second—that maybe you were something more than just another girl passing through his night.

your hand barely brushed the doorknob when you heard it—soft, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he should say anything at all. he called your name, just your name. nothing more.

but it sliced through the air, cutting straight to the fragile, aching part of you that was already splitting open beneath the weight of it all. his voice carried that same softness he always seemed to wear around you, the kind that could unravel you if you let it, but you couldn’t afford to let it reach you. not now—not when the bitter taste of disappointment still lingered on your tongue, and the heat of his kiss felt more like a bruise than a memory.

your fingers tightened around the doorframe, knuckles pale as if you could somehow ground yourself through the sheer force of it. for a brief second, you swore you felt the room shift again, the pull of his voice tethering you there like a thin thread you were barely holding onto.

but you didn’t turn around. instead you pushed forward, slipping out the door before the sound of your name could latch onto anything deeper—before the storm swirling behind his eyes could drag you back under.

the hallway stretched endlessly ahead, dim and empty save for the faint thump of music still pulsing distantly beneath the floorboards. each step felt heavier than the last, your pulse thundering in your ears, but you didn’t stop.

if you stayed—if you met his eyes now—you knew you’d fall apart right there in front of him, and that wasn’t something you were willing to let him see.

the hallway blurred around you, the edges folding in on themselves as you stumbled forward, each step heavier than the last, like the ground beneath you had shifted into something unsteady—something that no longer belonged to you.

the pulse of the music from below thudded against your ribs, each beat knocking the breath from your lungs as if the house itself was trying to hold you back. your hand slid against the banister, the cool wood biting into your palm, but even that felt distant, as if your body was moving on instinct alone—driven by the desperate, suffocating need to get out, to breathe air that wasn’t laced with the faint scent of him still clinging to your skin.

the staircase stretched endlessly beneath you, spiraling down into the haze of bodies pressed too close, of laughter that felt like it belonged to someone else’s night, not yours. your ankle wavered on the last step, the heel of your shoe catching for just a second, but you barely noticed—barely cared—because the ache curling deep in your chest burned hotter, tighter, until it was all you could feel.

you pushed through the front door with trembling fingers, the cool night air rushing over your skin like a slap, sudden and sharp, yet not enough to ease the knot twisting violently inside you. the quiet outside was jarring, the absence of music leaving nothing but the thrum of your heartbeat ringing loud in your ears, each pulse a brutal reminder of what you already knew but refused to say out loud.

wonbin would never belong to you.

the realization struck harder beneath the glow of the streetlights, seeping into the cracks you’d been trying to ignore for far too long. no matter how many glances lingered, no matter how many fleeting touches made your heart stumble, you were just another part of his night—a brief distraction, nothing more.

and now, standing alone beneath the cold stretch of sky, the weight of that truth sank deep into your bones, settling there like it had always been waiting. you wrapped your arms around yourself, the wind tugging at the hem of your dress as if trying to pull you apart piece by piece, but there was nothing left to unravel.

you had already come undone.

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mattslilies · 1 day ago

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✩ veterinarian!reader - struggles with the first loss of a pet ✩

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warnings: animal/pet loss. heavy emotions, crying, a little bit of anger, overall descriptions of grief, and a tad of self-doubt. sorry guys this one is a long one!

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you knew this was part of the job, you knew that you had quite literally signed up for this. however, that didn't make the gut-wrenching sob spill out any less harshly.

a stray cat had been brought in by someone last night, having found it on the side of the road. it was incredibly clear that the animal had been hit by something, most likely a car, and you as well as your coworkers had immediately jumped into action to help it.

the poor thing needed surgery, and it was a heartbreaking sight to see, but you were glad that you had the opportunity to help it.

it didn't have any tags, microchips, or any owner show up to claim it, and unfortunately, you'd quickly grown attached.

you knew that a part of your job was to care enough about these animals to help, and give them the best treatment possible, but also to try and remain as detached personally as you possibly could.

however, when you see scenes like these, it's next to impossible to follow through on that.

you'd breathed a massive sigh of relief when the animal had survived the surgery, knowing that it wasn't out of the woods, but that the worst was over.

you'd finished your shift, watching over all of the pets that you were assigned to, and then you'd gone home, taken a warm shower, and relaxed.

you came back into work the next day with a smile on your face, not expecting your heart to feel like it was being ripped out of your chest just ten minutes after clocking in.

you walked over to where the cat had been, noticing that it was now empty. you didn't immediately think the worst, assuming that an owner had claimed it and they had switched rooms, or hospitals, or that the animal was off getting testing or x-rays done.

but when you questioned, you were met with the bad news.

"it didn't make it through the night. there were complications from the surgery, there wasn't anything that we could've done to prevent this."

the rest of your shift felt numb. it felt like you had been dunked in ice cold water as soon as you walked in the door, and you were unable to dry off and warm up.

you didn't let it affect the rest of your patient care, making overly sure that every pet under your watch was getting the top-notch treatment that they deserved.

but that didn't take away the fact that it hurt. so badly.

your coworkers had said that the first one is always the worst, and you knew it would happen eventually, but you never expect a pet to be the one that dies.

your shift felt so long and so short at the same time. you clocked out, your mind still nearly blank as you drove home.

it wasn't until you pulled into your driveway of the home you shared with your boyfriend that you broke.

sobs wracked your body, paired with exhaustion that just made you feel even worse.

after what felt like ages, you pulled yourself together, somewhat, and went inside. you went straight for a shower, needing to feel something on your body other then the clothes that you were in.

you didn't even notice that nick was home until he knocked on the door, slowly opening it with a soft call of your name.

you always stopped to tell him about your day. it worried him that you'd just taken off into the bathroom without even checking to see if he was there. you never did that.

"are you alright?"

you hadn't gotten into the shower yet, in the process of ridding yourself of your clothes. you turned to face him, and his face immediately changed from one of concern to one of deep worry, entering the bathroom with you.

"baby, what's wrong? what happened?"

there was no lying to him, the tear tracks on your face spoke for themselves, and he had a feeling he knew what had upset you.

your voice shook as you spoke. "it didn't make it through the night."

he let out a sigh, knowing exactly what you meant. you'd told him about the cat when you'd come home the evening before.

wrapping his arms around you, he pulled you into a soul crushing hug, heart clenching at the way you sobbed into him. it was like floodgates opened and you just crashed.

"it wasn't your fault."

nick was speaking, doing his best at comforting you, but those were the only words that really stuck out to you.

"it wasn't your fault."

logically, you knew that it wasn't your fault, there had been unforeseen complications, but it lifted a burden off of your shoulders to hear someone else say it.

but it didn't stop the guilt completely.

"i should've been better, i should have done more."

sadness was making it's way into rage, disappointment with youraelf and your caretaking.

you often went down this path when you were upset about something, your brain finding it easier to deal with anger than overwhelming despair.

"no. you did everything you could." nick's hands held both sides of your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes, scanning his face, you saw no signs of uncertainty.

"i know you did everything you could, because i know you, and you don't do things halfway. this wasn't your fault. you are wonderful at your job, but these things happen. you can't blame yourself for this."

doubt creeped into the back of your brain, wondering why he could be so confident in you and you couldn't.

"what if i'm not cut out for this?"

he shook his head, not leaving room for argument.

"i've seen how you work with animals. you have the passion, and you have the talent, and right now you feel like you're going to die, because you've never experienced this. but you won't feel this way every time. it'll get a bit easier, but you'll still be sad, because you're human, and that shows that you care."

releasing your face and gently pressing a kiss to the top of your head, he swiped some tears away with the back of his knuckles.

"nobody is better cut out for this than you are."

you nodded, the tiredness of the anger and grief and long hours hitting you like a freight train, waiting for him to speak again because you did not have the energy to.

"now. let's get you a warm shower, wash the day off. i can join you and help if you want, or i can let you have your privacy."

"stay with me, please." your voice was merely a whisper, and you knew you probably wouldn't want to hold yourself up to shower alone.

"anything you want. and after, i'll order whatever food you're feeling like, we'll curl up in bed, and we can put on whatever show you want, or we can just lay there. you don't have to handle this alone, alright?"

you let him help you finish getting the rest of your clothes off, and help you into the shower. you managed to muster up a few more words, to show your appreciation for his unwavering support.

"i love you."

you didn't have to turn around to face him to know he was smiling.

"i love you too. cmere, i'll wash your hair for you."

letting yourself live in that moment, you knew everything would be okay.

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taglist <3

@courta13 @quinnynation @bowsandsturniolos @mqroonsturn @emely9274 @lizzyzzn @mattsbows @mattybsgroupie @quinnysnursery @sophand4n4

if you would like to be added to my taglist, click here!

#nick sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo fluff #nicolas antonio sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo angst #nicolas struniolo fluff #nick sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo fanfic #mattslilies #the sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo

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oneknightstand-if · 4 months ago

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Alright so this is DEFINITELY too spoilery but I need to ask, is there a possibility that the Changeling MC is actually an important individual in the fae world/court? Either famous or someone who is a more "high ranking" fae in court? (Summer/Winter, whatever)

...I'm totally not asking because I secretly want to be Mab's daughter/heir and enjoy the absolute chaos when it's revealed.

I mean, I totally wouldn't want to see the reactions of the circle when they realize that the sweet MC they've all befriended is actually the spawn of the Queen of Malice.

And I definitely wouldn't want to see the look on Merlin's face if he happens to have been feeding on that same MC.

Especially not if that MC also happened to be Mommy's precious little treasure.

That would just be awful, wouldn't it?

...

#If any single part of that was true in any way whatsoever I'd never admit it of course #Same thing if every part is wrong and impossible #oks-asks #oks-MC #oks-whoo

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lucky-clover-gazette · 5 months ago

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sometimes i just kinda sit there and think about how it is genuinely difficult for me to conceive of myself being desired

#i like myself a lot #but i don't really trust or expect other people to specifically single me out as attractive or worthwhile #like i guess i'm cool to others when there aren't other options or priorities but i'm not going to be actively pursued or chosen #i'm never the easiest option and therefore not the option anyone goes for #i think part of the appeal of embracing my bisexuality is hoping that maybe i /could/ be an easier option #bc when you're just dating people of the same sex there are a lot of things that can make it complicated or even impossible #and it hurts #and it sucks #i am so used to being treated in a certain way in relationships i naturally gravitate towards #to the point that i shame myself and feel selfish for simply wanting to be seen as attractive or treated with genuine care #like. somewhere in my gut i just don't think that can happen to me #i really want to believe that my gut is wrong and that i've just had very bad luck and i've made some bad choices in the company i keep #so i'm trying to keep searching for connections #but it sucks to feel at every turn like i'm almost delusional for wanting to be desired and treated well #those are very reasonable things to want #and other people get to have them #so why can't i

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kavehater · 4 months ago

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Lord give me energy today eueueue

#dora daily #sm things piling up but my brain says NO #I can’t even do basic things 😭#it’s genuinely so hard to talk to others #aaaaaaah #the reason is bc I’ve forced myself into contentment with the prospect of being alone cause there’s just so much I can do that would bring #me joy in solitude but #that’s what I’ve always been doing part of the reason I talk a lot is bc that’s how I am in my head #like things firing at 100miles per second bc that’s how I used to keep myself entertained when I was younger #when everyone would have buddies and I wouldn’t #and it works now bc everyone takes ten business days to reply that it’s completely made me genuinely grossed out of social interaction #but I can’t live in La La land forever #pls if only kaveh existed I wouldn’t need another means of socialisation eueeuue #everyone is so impossible to understand; coming from a girl who has always been called utterly INSANE for how hard she hyper focuses on #small cues and signals and detecting discomfort and whatnot. I turn my brain off for one second and yet again the same shit happens it’s so #unfair that everyone can be relaxed and I ought to be on high alert 24/7 #I also find it hilarious and pathetic when people pretend to be people smart but they’re really not … it’s genuinely embarrassing #like bitch when you get to my level then we will talk istg …#Istg if this is the autism thing everyone’s been telling me im screwed cause #I don’t want yet another issue #but it’d make sense like how people seem to draw away despite there being nothing wrong with me #how people tend to agree with everything someone else says but the moment I do it it’s heinous #how I have physically had to learn social cues and trial and error #with the errors altering my brain chemistry #that unwavering sense of justice that makes me so very uncomfortable if not fulfilled that I shut up about so I can actually hold down #friends. God knows how every interaction I have with a person is so orchestrated so almost artificial and ‘yes-man’ core that I don’t even #believe said person likes ME bc idek who I am and bc if I don’t agree w #everything no matter how many times someone says I won’t get mad …. trust me they do they’re all liars and manipulators even if they don’t #intend to #the scary fascinations I’ve had when younger

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sleepyhoon · 23 days ago

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✰ pairing. — emo!hs x reader

✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.

✰ word count. — 7k+

✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, partying, mentions of drinking/drugs, friendship betrayal (?), smut [virginity loss, teasing, fingering, soft dom!hs, "i've waited so long for this" type shit], reader and hs are both 18+, minors dni. very cliche shit. reader doesn’t know much abt sex tbh.

✰ synopsis. — Love notes were slipped into your locker on a daily basis. Variations of messy, boyish handwriting on yellow sticky notes stacked upon themselves by the end of each school day. Every Friday night you were invited out with the promise of, "You'll have fun, just give it a chance."

You could have any guy you wanted, no doubt about it. Yet somehow, the only one you do want is the tattooed, gothic one that lives a few doors down from your best friend.

✰ a/n. revamping this from my bts acc with heeseung this time bc im absolutely obsessed with this couple and need them to exist in every possible universe :P revamping part 2 as we speak and ill post in a few days hehe

✰ perm taglist. @intromortal @aanniikkaa @meetletsinmontauk @lovelyyf @right-person-wrong-time

———

Two monumental events had been etched into your brain for eternity, the first being sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet up with your friends at the community pool. The second is fifteen minutes upon arriving at the pool, seeing your best friend's older brother emerge from the chlorine-scented water as if he were Poseidon and realizing you were utterly infatuated by him.

Lee Chaeryeong isn't blind to this, immediately pulling you away from the crowd to question the longing gaze on your face. "Out of every fucking guy here with us, you're making eyes at my brother? You do know that Heeseung is completely gross, right?" She was so furious, you're surprised no steam was blowing from her ears.

Deny it all you want (and you certainly did within that fifteen-minute interrogation); Heeseung very clearly had a hold on you that lasted many years following that fateful night. He wasn't even your usual type; he wouldn't be caught dead around the guys you're typically drawn to. He had a rebellious side; maybe that's why getting him out of your head was nearly impossible.

Of course, the eternal guilt of falling for your best friend's older, dumbass brother is also difficult to get out of your head.

It can't be helped, really. Anytime you'd visit their home, your eyes would automatically wander through the crack of his doorway as you'd pass by. Whether he was messily cutting his dark hair while blasting Pierce the Veil from his speakers or giving himself a new Stick-and-Poke tattoo as he waited for a CD to finish burning, you long to break away from Chaeryeong for a moment to speak to him. Ask him about his day or if his band had any upcoming gigs. You'd even talk to him about paint drying if it meant you'd get to be in the same space as him.

So it's safe to say you were completely heartbroken when he left for college. Chaeryeong, however, is over the moon. Or so you think.

"… He's your brother, though. You don't think you're gonna miss him at all?" You ask, watching Chaeryeong delicately paint your fingernails a pretty shade of purple.

She shrugs, "I mean… it's definitely gonna be weird not seeing him around the house every day, but he'll still visit sometimes. Maybe."

Deep down, Chaeryeong knows Heeseung won't visit much. He'd been craving freedom and independence from their parents for ages, and moving away for college gave him the perfect opportunity to live as he pleased. They weren't fond of the clothes he wore or the friends he had, and absolutely couldn't bear the music his band makes. They criticized every little thing about him, and he'd finally be getting a break from them.

As you're about to ask Chaeryeong if she's okay, she stands from her bed, screwing the nail polish closed. "I'll be back. I have to let Bam out." Her voice is shaky, and she doesn't look at you as she exits the room.

You take the opportunity to make your way down the hall and to Heeseung's door, which he has conveniently left wide open as he scrolls on his desktop. His knees are pressed against his chest as he's heavily focused on editing his Facebook page. There's a rock song playing lightly from another tab that you can't quite identify; he uses his free hand to gently tap along to the beat of the music.

His room is covered in cardboard boxes, soon to be packed into his parents' minivan and making their way to the University of San Francisco dorms.

Your knuckles tap on his wooden door, your heart fluttering when he turns around, and you realize he's changed the ring on his lip from black to silver.

He nods at you, "What's up?"

"Nothing. I just know you're leaving in the morning, and I wanted to say bye. And wish you good luck, of course." You're not sure why you're so heartbroken. It's not like the two of you were ever a thing. It's not like this would be your last time seeing him. Why were you so upset?

"Cool, thanks." You assume that was his way of indirectly telling you to get out until he reaches into his desk drawer and says, "Catch," before tossing something towards you.

Careful not to mess up your manicure, you easily catch the item, unfolding what appears to be a purple bandanna. "What's this for?" You ask, inspecting the material in your palms.

"To remember me by, duh. Plus, it matches your nails.”

It'd be silly to tell him you genuinely don't need this because there was no way in hell you could ever forget about him. Instead, you clutch the bandana tightly in your fist and make a silent vow to keep it with you at all times; have a piece of him with you at all times.

You thank him and tell him it's nice, but all you can wonder is why he even wants you to remember him in the first place. Maybe you're overthinking. He probably just didn't care for the useless accessory anymore.

When you turn to leave, Heeseung stops you with a gentle call of your name. He turns his head in your direction, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything." You whisper back, praying you don't sound overly desperate for a more extended interaction with him.

A beat of silence passes, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, Chaeryeong is stomping up the stairs and belting out your name. You gaze away from Heeseung to glance behind you, listening as his sister shouts about doing each other's makeup.

"Never mind, actually. It's not important." Heeseung interrupts, and you physically feel your heart sink to the floor.

You're about to be annoying and pry a response out of him until your eyes dart to his floor, and you see it. What slipped out from his drawer when he tossed the bandana at you.

A condom wrapper. An empty one, at that.

It's embarrassing how quickly your vision becomes glossy, salty tears threatening to release with each passing second. Of course, he's fucking someone. Of course, that person isn't you. Of fucking course.

You shouldn't be surprised; he's probably more into girls with a similar aesthetic. She's probably covered in tattoos and piercings, just like him. She's probably older than you and may even have her own car, unlike you, who still had to catch rides with your parents or older sister.

It's odd, though. You're not entirely naive; you know Heeseung definitely flirts with you here and there, catching his eye when his gaze lingers on you for a second too long. There's a noticeable tension between the two of you that even your parents have teased about. And this whole time, he's been screwing someone else?

Heeseung hangs out with so many girls it'd be useless to even attempt to uncover who this mystery person is. It's none of your business, anyway.

So you leave.

You tell Chaeryeong you'll get grounded if you're home past curfew, and with tear-stained cheeks, you run home.

The following day isn't any easier.

Chaeryeong posted a photo on FaceBook of herself and Heeseung posing together, arms wrapped around each other, with the caption "c u l8r alligator XD". The comments are already flooded with responses wishing Heeseung farewell, some from family members or friends of the siblings.

"Don't 4get abt me!!!!!! >:( "from a girl with red hair catches your eye because it's the only one Heeseung responded to. You can't bring yourself to read his full reply, fingers moving to quickly close the tab after seeing the word 'Never.'

It's probably her, you think to yourself, the one he's sleeping with.

Maybe it's for the best that Heeseung's moving away; it'll give you some time to get over him.

And you most certainly did.

The only time he ever crosses your mind is when Chaeryeong brings him up (which she rarely does) or when you pass by his empty bedroom. Deep down, you know you'll always care for Heeseung on some level, but time away from him was just what you needed. You were too attached to him for no fathomable reason, rejecting any guy interested in you with the premise of being loyal to a guy who didn't even want you. He'd probably been sneaking girls in through his window, with you a few doors down doing magazine quizzes with his sister; blissfully unaware of what was happening down the hall.

You’re better off without him.

That's what you've been telling yourself daily until now. It's the start of summer vacation, and Heeseung's been summoned home to spend it with his family before Chaeryeong (and you) transfer to the University of San Francisco.

Heeseung was hesitant about coming home, as he always is. In constant fear that his parents have some elaborate plan for him to change his major or set him up with someone they deem acceptable, nothing like the girls he hangs around and probably invites back to his dorm.

It took days of convincing until Heeseung finally agreed to come home, under the premise that his parents' intentions were pure and that they simply wanted one last summer together before Chaeryeong moved away for college. They also hoped he'd be able to house-sit and watch over Chaeryeong for a few days as they took their annual anniversary trip to San Diego. That, however, took some bribing and the promise of gas money on their end.

He's not due to arrive until tomorrow morning, and you've convinced yourself there's no reason for you to see him right away. You'd be fine if the next time you saw him was in a few months as you're moving into your dorm. After years of longing, you've finally moved on from him.

Some of you have debated telling Chaeryeong about your past feelings for her brother, but there's no point. It was a one-sided relationship with absolutely zero depth, nothing worth discussing. So when she nudges your side and asks if you're interested in anyone, you reply with a shake of your head.

Chaeryeong has no reaction to this; she can't remember the last time you've been into anyone despite having the entire male population at your school practically throwing themselves at you. "Maybe you'll meet someone tonight."

She's referencing the house party you're going to, which she practically had to drag you out of your room to attend. Parties are different from your scene, especially on a day like today when you were hoping to have a girls' night with Chaeryeong. She had other plans, however.

"Maybe," you respond, sighing as the house you're attending is finally in your viewpoint. "We're not staying long, right? It looks packed."

Cars are parked throughout the street, one house, in particular, being the center of attention with loud music and drunk people decorating the front yard of a suburban-looking home. Chaeryeong looks as ecstatic as ever, looping her arm in yours and picking up her pace. She doesn't respond. It doesn't matter. Her response would've disregarded your concern.

One car catches your eye as you enter the unfamiliar house; it's parked towards the end of the street, and you swear you've been in it before. You're not able to dwell on it for too long, though, because Chaeryeong has to practically yank you through the front door.

Your nerves are at an all-time high. The music is entirely too loud, and there isn't a single sober person in sight. You're not sure how Chaeryeong even found out about this party, but you really wish she would've left you out of it. You'd go now if it were acceptable, but Chaeryeong would've stayed regardless, and you refuse to leave her alone. So, you push your feelings to the side and take her hand as she leads you towards the kitchen.

"Thirsty?" Chaeryeong questions, forcing a red solo cup into your hand.

"Not at all," you respond, sighing as Chaeryeong pours something into your cup.

"It's just ginger ale," she reassures you, "I don't think either of us should get drunk here." For once, she's being reasonable.

Chaeryeong suggests you do a lap around the house in hopes of running into people you may have gone to school with. And to your surprise, a decent amount of your past classmates have decided to attend. You feel more at ease with them around, a bit more comfortable now that you're around recognizable people. Although you initially hesitated to show up, you're glad you did.

"Anybody catch your eye yet? Or are you still breaking hearts?" Your old classmate, Yeoreum, questions.

You shake your head, about to explain that you're not interested in dating right now, until she gestures behind you. "That guy is pretty cute."

You shift on the couch, looking around until you spot who Yeoreum had been gesturing towards. You locate him finally, and she's right; he is cute. He just seems so familiar.

That's when it hits you.

"Oh my God," you whisper, eyes locked on him, and you slowly rise from the couch.

It's Heeseung. And the car you recognized was his. He's here. What is he doing here? He isn't due to be back until tomorrow morning.

You almost don't realize it's him until you spot the mole under his lip. He's grown his hair out and stopped dyeing it, the slew of tattoos that decorated his arm (God, did he start working out, too?) nicely connected, now creating a sleeve, and he's given himself an eyebrow piercing. Your feelings for him come rushing back in full force.

Panicked, you reach for Chaeryeong's hand, but she's nowhere to be found. Careful not to be seen by her brother, you bow your head slightly, passing through a crowd of sweaty bodies until you finally spot her kitty heels. She's leaned against a wall, swirling around her cup while flirting with some guy you'd seen around school a few times.

Creating some much-needed distance between the two, you tug Chaeryeong towards you. "I think I just saw your brother."

"What? No, he won't even be in the city until tomorrow morning."

Frustrated, you quickly search the crowd until your eyes land on him again. You ignore the fact that he's now speaking to some girl with red hair and tattoos scattered across her arm and point in their direction, "Well, then that guy looks just like him."

Chaeryeong squints her eyes in disbelief at the boy in question until the doubt becomes confusion, and the confusion becomes realization. "Oh my God! The fuck is he doing here?" She turns towards you as if you're supposed to have the answer.

"The fuck should I know? You said he wouldn't be here until tomorrow morning!"

"Because that's what he told our parents! How was I supposed to know he was gonna be here? I never would've come if I knew!"

"What are you guys doing here?" A voice you haven't heard in so long interrupts. You don't even want to turn around.

"What are you doing here?" Chaeryeong throws back, and the two stare at each other in angry silence for a moment until Heeseung steps to the side. "Upstairs," he says, nodding towards the staircase.

"But—"

"Go."

Chaeryeong's clearly aggravated but makes her way towards the stairs. You remain in place with your arms crossed, raising a brow in confusion when Heeseung looks at you. "What?"

"You too."

"I'm not—"

"I'm not asking again," he says simply. You convince yourself that you only take his command because you don't feel like fighting. Definitely not because it's interesting to have him boss you around.

Trudging up the stairs behind Chaeryeong, you wait with her in the hallway until Heeseung arrives. "Come on," he says, entering a bathroom and turning the light on. Neither you nor Chaeryeong protest; there really isn't any point.

As soon as the door is shut, Chaeryeong is yelling at the top of her lungs. "What the fuck are you doing here?! You said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning! Mom and Dad had to push their trip back just to give you more time to arrive, and you're already fucking here?! The fuck is the matter with you?!"

"I'm not gonna respond if you're gonna be yelling like this." Heeseung says calmly, leaning against the sink, "Let me get my questions out first, then I'll answer any of yours, deal?"

Chaeryeong glances over at you, sitting on the bathtub's edge, and you nod. She returns her attention back to Heeseung, takes a deep breath, then agrees.

"Now, what are you guys doing here?! How'd you even get invited?! And you're drinking?!" The calm demeanor from earlier slips away in a matter of seconds, clearly a hoax just to get Chaeryeong to calm down enough to let him speak.

"It's just ginger ale, and we've barely even had any! We were invited by our friends, okay? We have just as much right to be here as you do."

Heeseung scoffs, clearly unamused. "Right, and I'm assuming Mom and Dad know you're here then, huh?"

Chaeryeong nervously tucks a hair behind her ear. You wonder why you even have to be in here with them. It's not like Heeseung is your brother, anyway.

"We told our parents that we were going to a birthday party at a friend's house." Chaeryeong mumbles, barely able to look Heeseung in the eye.

"And what did they say when they dropped you guys off?"

"They didn't drop us off," you interrupt, "we walked here."

"Well, I wasn't gonna tell him that." Chaeryeong glares at you, it takes every bone in your body to not to laugh at her.

You're so over this. You didn't want to attend this dumb party in the first place, and seeing Heeseung flirting with some girl who could've been his female counterpart was the icing on the cake. It doesn't matter if your feelings for him were gone before tonight; every little emotion you'd felt for him over the years had returned (as if they ever left).

"And how exactly did you two geniuses plan on getting home?"

"Same way we got here."

"Can you please just let me handle this? Jesus Christ…" Chaeryeong shoots another frustrated glare at you, and you can't help but roll your eyes at her. She turns back towards her brother, "Can you answer my questions now?"

Heeseung's eyes anxiously dart around the cramped bathroom, landing on you a few times before he's slowly nodding his head. "Alright, Mom and Dad basically forced me to spend the whole summer here, and I kept asking myself why they were so persistent about it. They finally told me they needed me to watch over you and the house for their stupid trip. I had plans too, you know? That I had to derail for them. My band could've spent this summer touring, making real money, and now we can't. So, they wanna inconvenience me? I'll inconvenience them right back."

"…Inconvenience them by doing what?" Chaeryeong asks the exact question you had.

Heeseung shrugs, "By telling them I'm gonna be arriving a day late, duh."

You and Chaeryeong exchange an awkward glance at one other before silently agreeing not to tease him about it. If this was his badass way of retaliating, who were you to rain on his parade?

"Are you gonna tell anyone you saw us here?" Chaeryeong questions, a noticible tremble in her voice.

"As long as you guys don't tell anyone you saw me."

It's a fair trade, you accept it. You're even more delighted when Heeseung says he's taking the two of you home. Chaeryeong, however, isn't too happy about this, claiming there were so many people she didn't get to speak to, and how'd this be the last time she'd get to see them before moving away for school. You're not sure if Chaeryeong is really good at getting what she wants, or if Heeseung was tired of hearing her complain, but he finally gives in and grants her ten more minutes to socialize before meeting him at his car.

"If you're not at my car in ten minutes, I swear to God I'm calling mom." Heeseung scolds, holding the bathroom door open as the three of you finally exit.

A loud, drunk voice suddenly shouts, "Woah, Heeseung! Two girls at the same time!? You fucking beast!"

"They're my sisters, you fucking pervert!" He shouts back.

You can't even dwell on how disgusting the original comment was, only being able to focus on the fact that Heeseung just referred to you as his sister. As conceited as it may sound, you're not used to rejection or guys putting you in the friend-zone. Whatever little game Heeseung had been playing with you over the years was completely new territory. And right when you think things couldn't possibly get any worse, he calls you his sister.

What the actual fuck.

—

The next ten minutes go by in a blur; Chaeryeong has ditched you for a second time that night to talk to the guy from earlier. When it's finally time to leave, you find her Sat on his lap with her arm hung across his shoulder, laughing at an unfunny pickup line he'd used on her.

"It's time, Chaeryeong," you interrupt, helping her stand.

"Wait, wait, wait," she persists, directing her attention back to the boy, "tomorrow at five, right?"

"And not a second later." He sends her a disgusting wink that makes your skin crawl.

Chaeryeong is so love-struck you're surprised there isn't an arrow lodged in her back. She can barely form a proper sentence, erupting into a fit of giggles every few seconds as you make your way to Heeseung's car. "Wasn't he just gorgeous?"

You shrug, linking arms with her. "He was alright."

Stunned, Chaeryeong gasps at you, "Just alright? He was literally like a Greek God."

"I'm not saying he's unattractive; he's just...not really my type."

"And what is your type, Miss. Never-Has-Been-Interested-In-Anyone?"

Now, there's the question of the hour. You have to word your response very carefully; don't be too obvious about the fact that your ideal type is her older sibling.

"I guess I prefer guys with an edgier look to them, you know? Tattoos, piercings..." Despite your attempt to sound as nonchalant as possible, your heart is beating out of your chest from the mild confession.

Chaeryeong snickers, then playfully groans. "It sounds like you're describing my brother."

Now, you really have to test the waters.

"Since you brought him up, would it be so bad if I did like Heeseung? Hypothetically speaking, of course." You're not sure what prompts you to even ask this. It's not like he's even interested in you; he literally just referred to you as his sister.

A beat of silence passes as Chaeryeong gathers her thoughts, then she says, "No."

"What?"

You've finally reached Heeseung's car at this point, beating him there. You sit atop the trunk, feet hovering above the ground as the cold, nighttime air swirls around you. Chaeryeong shakes her head, "Obviously, it wouldn't be the ideal situation, but I guess I wouldn't mind as long as you talked to me about it first."

"First?" You mimic.

"Like...assuming you'd wanna date him or something. Just so I'm not blindsided, you know?"

This is the last thing you would've expected your impulsive, hotheaded (yet oh-so-loveable) best friend to be reasonable about. Mainly because she lectured you for nearly twenty minutes when she first suspected you had a crush on Heeseung.

You go to respond, but Heeseung, finally arriving at the car, captivates both of your attention. He finishes off his can of Pepsi before crushing the aluminum and tossing it to the ground. "Ready?" He questions.

There's no point in giving him a speech about littering; you're just ready to go home.

He fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the car door; Chaeryeong opens the backseat and jumps in before you have the chance, sprawling across the aged leather. "Move over," you nudge her foot with your knee; she pulls away from you.

Heeseung calls your name, "Just sit up front. She's not gonna move."

Now, this is new. You've ridden in the backseat of his car with Chaeryeong more times than you can count; he'd never allow either of you to sit shotgun with him; typical annoying older brother bullshit.

Don't make a big deal out of this, you say to yourself, climbing into the passenger seat of his car.

Chaeryeong and Heeseung bicker the entire ride to their parent's house, partially out of annoyance with each other, but you also get the feeling that neither of them were genuinely ready to leave the party. You're surprised Heeseung even enjoyed parties; he spent most of high school either working, hanging out at skate parks, or practicing with his band in their garage. College must've really changed him, and you're unsure how to feel about it.

Heeseung parks a few houses down from their parent's house and unlocks the doors, "Get out," he says into the backseat.

"Where are you gonna spend the night?" Chaeryeong questions, stretching her arms outward.

"I checked into a motel this morning. I'll be back here tomorrow around noon. And, hey," Heeseung turns around, pointing a finger at his sister. "Don't tell them you saw me."

Mockingly, Chaeryeong points a finger right back at him. "Telling them I saw you would be exposing myself, cock-sucker. Leave me alone." She angrily begins to climb out of the car, annoyed at how little trust Heeseung had in her.

You turn to go, but Heeseung's cold hand on your bicep stops you, "Where you goin'?"

"I'm gonna walk home from here. It's only a few minutes away," you respond.

Heeseung shakes his head, "I'm dropping you off. You haven't moved since I left, right?"

"No, but it's fi—"

"Then your house is on the way to my motel. We're going in the same direction; might as well ride together."

It truly does make more sense to ride together, and rejecting his offer any further surely would raise suspicions. You don't want either of them to believe you'd feel uncomfortable being alone with Heeseung because that couldn't be farther from the truth. You're perplexed about your feelings now, and you don't want to do anything you'd regret just because of the confusion.

"Okay, then." You glance over your shoulder at Chaeryeong, "Will you need any help getting ready for your date tomorrow?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Chaeryeong shushes you, gesturing that Heeseung is literally right next to you and would prefer that he didn't hear about her dating life. Heeseung genuinely couldn't care less and is instead patiently waiting for his sister to get out.

She does finally, and Heeseung resumes his path to your house. He turns the radio on, switching between stations until he stops on one that's playing a song he's familiar with. You drive silently for a few minutes; the only sounds being heard are the distant noises from the car's motor and Heeseung humming along to the radio.

He breaks the silence by saying, "I was surprised to see you back there. You never really seemed like the type to enjoy parties."

You chuckle, "I could say the same for you; I don't remember you attending any in high school."

"That's 'cause house parties weren't my thing," he explains, "I went to raves or parties that would happen at the skate park. I don't really like being at someone else's house for too long; it feels too intimate."

Now that you think of it, skate park parties and raves seem much more like his scene.

"Well, I only went because Chaeryeong was going, and I didn't feel comfortable with her being there alone. Otherwise, I never would've gone." You admit, resting your head against the window.

"Thanks for looking after her, by the way. You're a good friend."

"I'd do anything for her." Your voice is barely a whisper now, getting quieter with every word you say.

Silence passes, and he says, "Did you know your guys' dorm room is gonna be right under ours?"

"Seriously?" You respond, genuinely curious.

"Mmm-hmm. My roommate, Sunghoon, and I are gonna be the worst upstairs neighbors ever." He teases as you roll your eyes. Your mind can't decipher whether this banter is playful & platonic or romantic. Everything Heeseung does confuses you.

"If that's the case, I'll be sure to move to an entirely new building."

"What, so you can have your boyfriend protect you?"

Pause. Boyfriend?

You nearly give yourself whiplash from how hard you spun around to look at Heeseung. "Boyfriend?" You ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I just assumed you'd have one by now. Do you?"

There he is again with his mind games. What the fuck was he talking about?

After letting out a very frustrated sigh, you mumble, "No, Heeseung, I do not have a boyfriend."

"Good. Focus on school."

Now he's pissing you off. You wish he'd shut up for the rest of the car ride. "It's nice to see you again, by the way."

Holy shit, you feel like jumping out the window.

"Yeah, great seeing you too. Oh, there's my house. I can walk from here." You make quick work of undoing your seatbelt.

"You sure? I can drop you off at the door."

"No, no. It's best if my parents don't see you so they don't accidentally tell your parents that they saw you." You lie, racking your brain for any excuse imaginable.

He nods, deciding it's best to drop you off a little further from your house. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"What?" You stop dead in your tracks, one hand clutching the door handle.

"Aren't you coming over tomorrow to help Chaeryeong get ready for her…thing? I'll be back home by then."

He's right; you'd be back in his house, and he'll be there this time. It's no big deal. You'd only be there for an hour (at most) to help her prepare, and then you could go the whole summer without seeing him again.

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

The following day, Chaeryeong is back to her unreasonable self, expecting you to wait at her house for her to return from her date.

"Please? We're just going to get pizza; we won't even be gone that long." She pleads, adding the finishing touches to her makeup.

You'd already spent over an hour helping her prepare, and now she expects you to do nothing but await her return. You know her heart's in the right place; she just wants to be the first to hear all the exhilarating details about her date. Still, a phone call would suffice.

"What am I supposed to do while I wait for you to come back?" You whine.

"Just hang out here! Watch a movie or something!" She suggests, trying her absolutely hardest to sound enthusiastic. Her phone buzzes in her hand before she has the chance to continue, eyes lighting up as they flicker across the bright screen.

Chaeryeong clutches her phone, locks eyes with you, then rushes towards the door. You're faster, though, quickly capturing her wrist before she's barely reached the hallway. "I'm going home."

"No! If you stay here, I'll bring you back pizza, and we can have a girls' night like we were supposed to yesterday! Come on, please?" She begs, pouting her lips.

You go to reply, but the bathroom door swings open, and Heeseung strides out. Just to your luck, he's shirtless; water droplets descend from his hair as he towel-dries it. As he enters his bedroom, he mocks his sister's high-pitched whine, earning a lethal glare and a slew of swears thrown at him.

Perhaps you should stay.

"Fine, but you're lending me your pajamas." You give in, earning an enthusiastic shriek from your best friend.

Chaeryeong wraps you in a brief, yet tight, hug before shouting, "Be back soon!" Then she's rushing down the stairs and out the front door. It's not often that Chaeryeong makes you wait for her return, but you absolutely despise it whenever it does occur. She's never back by the time she promises and gets upset when you try to call and check up on her.

And speaking of calling, you're sure your phone is dead by now. You insisted Chaeryeong bring her's along just in case, so you're left with one option.

Heeseung's door is wide open (as usual) when you go to knock. He's fully clothed now, pairing his black sweatpants with a matching black t-shirt. His hair appears mostly dry now, chaotic as ever, but dry. You don't think he's ever looked this good before.

He's sat on his bed, flipping through the latest copy of Rolling Stone when you arrive. He glances over at you and lets out a dry chuckle.

"What's so funny?" You ask.

"You're dressed like Bella Swan." He responds casually, eyes raking up and down your body.

"Who?"

"From Twilight. You know, that new movie that came out?" He seems genuinely surprised that you don't seem to know anything about this movie, not even the name of (who you suspect to be) the main character.

You lean against the doorframe, "Haven't seen it."

"It's a great movie, seriously. Some friends and I are seeing it in a few days if you and Chaeryeong wanna come." He suggests, flipping another page in the magazine.

You let him know you'll ask Chaeryeong if she's interested before remembering why you came to his room in the first place and ask if you can borrow his phone charger. Heeseung directs you to where it's plugged up by his desk, and you finally have the chance to stroll further into his room. You can't recall the last time you've been in here, but you know it looks much different than before. Many of the band posters that decorated the room were gone, his random trinkets and piles of clothes were gone, and not a single piece of his CD collection was in sight. It felt so lifeless, so unlike him. No wonder he always dreaded returning home; it probably didn't even feel like home to him.

"So," you say, attempting to break the silence, "you're here for the whole summer, huh?"

"Unfortunately." He mumbles, "Gonna try and go by sooner, convince my parents I have to sort out an issue with my dorm or something."

"It's nice to have you back, though." You admit, watching as Heeseung's gaze locks on yours.

"Yeah? It is?" He questions.

You shrug, "Of course. We practically grew up together; it was weird to not see you all the time."

He sits up now, closing the magazine and tossing it on his nightstand. There's something on his mind that he isn't saying; you can tell from the way his brows knit together and how he's anxiously tugging on his lip piercing. "It was weird to be gone," he mumbles and leaves it at that.

"By the way, I'm sorry about last night." He apologizes.

"For what? Calling me your sister?"

He laughs at this, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to do that on purpose, by the way. That guy was just...so weird, I kinda blurted out the first thing that would've made him feel weird for even thinking that."

Oh. That makes sense. You definitely overreacted.

"I meant," he continues, "I'm sorry if the whole boyfriend assumption thing upset you."

"Oh," you dismissively wave a hand at him, "that was nothing."

Heeseung raises a brow at you, "Are you sure? 'Cause you seemed pretty upset afterward, you were practically running out of my car."

There's no point in lying now, considering you weren't even the slightest bit discrete the previous night.

"If I'm being completely honest, I just felt a little awkward. But that's it, I swear." You assure him, moving to lean against the bedside table.

"Awkward about what?"

God, this was so embarrassing. Is he really going to make you humiliate yourself like this?

"Because I've never actually had a boyfriend before."

Heeseung looks genuinely shocked at your confession, eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he examines yours for any sign of deception. "You don't believe me?"

"I'm not sure. I only assumed you had one just based on how crazy guys were about you in high school. Not to mention you're, like, fucking gorgeous."

What?

"I'm what?" You ask, not entirely sure if you heard him correctly.

He repeats himself again, and you make him do it a few more times until he's too embarrassed to say it again. You somehow manage to get back on the topic of never having a boyfriend before when Heeseung asks you another question. "Have you ever...?"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. You know what he's asking.

You shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business." He berates himself, and you assure him it's no big deal and that it shouldn't even be a shocker to him.

After a half hour of talking about whatever comes to mind, you wind up sitting opposite Heeseung on his bed, legs perched up underneath your body as you go back and forth, questioning one another.

"So, when are you gonna admit you had a crush on me?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"I never did." You lie.

"Really? That sucks?"

"Why?"

He shrugs, leaning his back against the headboard. "I just always thought that maybe you and I would've ended up together at some point."

You don't remember who leans in first; it doesn't matter; all that matters is after years of longing, your lips are finally intertwined with his. He must've smoked today; you can taste the nicotine on his breath. But it doesn't matter; you don't make the slightest move to pull away. Neither does he, placing his hands on the small of your back to guide you onto his lap.

Your body is moving on autopilot, limbs moving to do whatever feels right as you silently pray not to ruin the moment. Heeseung can spot your nervousness from a mile away and stop you, "We don't have to do—"

"I want to," you pant, breathless, "I've wanted this for so long."

"Do you trust me?" He asks.

"More than anything."

He kisses you again before adjusting your current position, slowly twisting yourselves until you're lying flat on your back. He moves his lips down towards your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his path as he settles between your legs.

You reach up to grab a handful of his hair, nearly jumping out of your skin as his delicate fingertips creep up your inner thigh, inching closer and closer until his ghosting over your clothed pussy. "This okay?" He mumbles.

You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Cute," he replies, "you're already so wet." His fingertips stroke your clit through your damp underwear; you don't think to wonder how he managed to get to it so quickly, all thoughts leaving your brain as he makes small circles using his middle and index finger.

"Heeseung…" You moan, pleading for him to do more.

"I know." He assures you, using a single finger to pull your panties to the side, making just enough room for him to slide a finger into your aching cunt. "Am I really your first time?"

You nod again out of fear that a moan would slip from your lips if you even tried to speak. His eyes are locked on yours, studying your expression as he coaxes a finger inside you. You're embarrassed at how quickly your wetness coated his finger, but Heeseung doesn't care. He likes it, makes him feel fucking amazing knowing the effect he had on you.

"Take your shirt off." He says, and you do as told, pulling your top up and off your body and tossing it to the floor; making quick work of undoing your bra before he even has the chance to ask.

His lips are back on your neck instantly, trailing down to your collarbone until he reaches the curve on your breast. He halts his actions momentarily before your pitched nipple is caught between his teeth and your back arching off the bed from how overstimulating everything feels.

You curse under your breath, and Heeseung makes another comment about how cute you are, though you feel far from it. He apologizes by lapping his tongue around your nipple, easing the pain slowly as he inserts a second finger into your cunt.

You can feel his bulge against your thigh, though he doesn't even care about getting himself off. He moves over to your nipple, licking and sucking until it's completely hardened, leaving himself breathless. The two fingers that had been working your cunt had picked up the pace now, and there was an unfamiliar feeling in your gut that you couldn't identify.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" You groan, legs trembling.

Heeseung is all too familiar with these actions and asks, "You're already close? I've barely done anything to you." He teases, chuckling to himself.

You know he's being lighthearted, but you can't help but feel embarrassed at the tears forming in your eyes from how good everything feels.

Suddenly, he's pulling his fingers out of you, and now you feel like crying for a different reason. You go to protest but stop to watch as he takes his shirt off. If you weren't sure then, it's obvious now he'd started attending the gym.

He makes quick work of tugging his sweatpants down his legs, tossing them into the abyss before reaching into his bedside table and retrieving a condom. "You're okay?"

You nod.

"Use your words."

“I’m okay, Heeseung.”

"You're still okay with this?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

Jesus fucking Christ, the saint this man is.

"I'm positive." You assure him.

You move to pull down your skirt and underwear, but Heeseung catches your wrist. "Leave them on," he says. There are so many things going on that you choose not to question.

He pulls off his boxers in the meantime, hardened cock slapping against his abdomen with precum leaking from the tip. Though you had nothing to compare it to, Heeseung was obviously slightly larger than average. You shouldn't be surprised; it's always the guys that you'd least expect.

He tears the condom wrapper with his teeth, retrieving the rubber inside before tossing the remains to his floor. Despite being fully erect, he fists his cock a few times before sliding the condom on.

He crawls over you, left arm at the side of his head, while he uses his dick to nudge your panties to the side. "This still okay?"

"I already told you—fuck!" He cuts you off, the tip of his cock slowly making its way inside you. You feel so stretched out from this alone you don't know how you'd manage to fit all of him into you.

Heeseung must be feeling the same, swearing under his breath and commenting about how tight you feel around him. Second by second, he coaxes himself into your pussy until you feel like you could split right open. "Are you all the way in?"

"No, can't take anymore?" He asks, leaning his head down against your ear.

You're embarrassed to admit he's too big to handle on your first time, but it's the truth. You don't want to overextend yourself just to please him and end up hurting yourself.

"You can move, just…not too much. Please."

Heeseung nods, "Whatever you want, angel."

He pulls his hips back and rocks himself back in, being sure to ask if you're okay with his pace. Once you confirm you feel fine and want him to keep going, he continues his movements; his eager hips snapping against yours and his cock hitting your G-spot with each deep stroke. You feel like you're on cloud nine, hands tangled in his hair as he swallows your moans.

That unfamiliar feeling from earlier returns; you feel it through your entire body this time. A moan of his name escaping your lips lets him know you're close. How he can always sense these things is beyond you; it's not worth overthinking.

"Close?" He asks, and you nod frantically.

Heeseung picks up his speed slightly, careful not to overwhelm you, but just enough to reach your climax, until finally, the bundle of nerves in your abdomen snaps, and your back is arching off the mattress as you come around his cock.

He's only a few seconds behind with his orgasm, erupting in a loud grunt when he finally reaches it. The two of you lay in silence for a moment before Heeseung finally pulls out of you and slides the condom off, tying it in a knot and tossing it into his trash bin.

"Are you okay?" He asks for what feels like the millionth time.

"I'm fine." You respond, and it isn't a lie. Physically, you feel terrific; mentally, it was an entirely different story. "Are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good."

As much as you would love to lay naked with Heeseung in his bed for the rest of the night, you know Chaeryeong will be home anytime soon. "I think I'm gonna go wash up."

He nods, crawling under his covers once you stand from his bed, tugging your skirt to its proper length as you search for your remaining clothing. "Oh, it's um…your shirt, it's over there." Heeseung awkwardly gestures towards a pile of clothing by the end of his bed.

Almost as quickly as you shred yourself of them, you snatch your clothing and bundle them up against your chest.

"Listen, I know right now isn't really ideal, but I meant what I said about liking you, and really think we should talk." He says nervously, barely even able to look at you.

You almost want to laugh at how cute he is; instead, you agree to talk to him about it soon. You're about to head out into the hallway when Heeseung reminds you about your charging phone over by his desk.

You retrieve it and scan the area again, ensuring you haven't left anything else behind. When everything seems clear, you stand upright, but your eyes fall toward the trash bin near his window with the discarded condom. You're embarrassed to even look at it until you realize something seems off. It looks…empty.

Now, you're no sex expert, but imagine that if Heeseung had finished, there'd be something to show for it in the condom. Right?

Did he fake his orgasm? Was this another one of his fucked up mind games you'd been subjected to?

You don't know what to think as you step into the bathroom; your emotions are all over the place, and all you really want to do is go home. But you promised Chaeryeong you'd be here when she returns, so you stay.

The next time a Lee sibling asks if you're okay is twenty minutes later when Chaeryeong finally arrives and asks why your eyes are so watery.

"I'm fine." You respond, and you're lying for the first time that night.

#enhypen smut #enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung smut #enhypen imagine #heeseung imagine #lee heeseung smut #enhypen scenario #heeseung scenarios #kpop smut #kpop imagine #kpop scencario #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader

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lunaekalenda · 9 months ago

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biker!suguru who looks pretty intimidating with that big helmet that covers his face, but will take advantage of red lights to make the children in the cars around him laugh. moving his hands, changing his seat, lying on the motorcycle; anything works when he sees them smiling and waving at him when the traffic starts again.

biker!suguru who's full of tattoos under all the riding clothes. they're tiny, like fine stickers on his body, but you could spend whole afternoons finding each one of them, and he'll gladly tell you what do they mean.

biker!suguru who refuses to let you get off the bike by yourself. if he opens the car door for you and offers a hand so you can comfortably get off, why wouldn't he do the same on the bike?

biker!suguru who accompanies you to buy clothes and equipment for riding. he has been on it for years and he knows the best brands, the best options and the more secure ones. he'll make sure to pay for them, even if they're expensive, as long as you're comfortable and protected from any injury.

biker!suguru who takes you everywhere. you have a meeting? he takes the bike. you're craving your favorite ice cream at night? you'll go quicker in the bike. why would you go walking if he loves to take you anywhere?

biker!suguru who's not bothered by the rain at all. he would ride anyway, with drops falling on his visor and sticking to his exposed neck. he would even unzip his riding jacket and let the rain wet his t-shirt. it makes him feel alive. (and later, sick.)

biker!suguru who doesn't like you sitting by yourself so makes it impossible for you, moving the bike and going back and forth, laughing and receiving your little slaps on his shoulders until you let him sit you (or he lets you sit)

biker!suguru who holds your hand when driving straight, taking it between his gloved fingers, cutely caressing and taking it to his helmet as if he was kissing it.

biker!suguru who helps you to put and take off the helmet the first times you ride, being his smile the last thing you see when closing your eyes to put it on and being his lips pressed on yours the first thing you feel when taking it off.

biker!suguru who doesn't doubt to show you how to ride when you ask him. he takes you on a couple lessons outside, quietly and calmly ordering you what to do. he trusts you enough to backpack you (but you don't trust your freshly aquired habilities with such a man behind)

biker!suguru who never arrives from a ride late. he'll always find you awake, and he doesn't want to let you go to sleep alone. he'll always make it safely on time.

biker!suguru who loves to mess with you, while riding and once done. he'll take your visor up, he'll put your hands inside his t-shirt, he'll give little taps on top of your helmet.

biker!suguru who craves shoulder massages on sunday afternoons after all the week riding and working. you'll gladly give him some, and he'll make sure to payback with cuddles (or rides.)

biker!suguru who lets all the kids try his helmet while he waits for you to exit work/uni. you'll just find the most random situations while getting closer to your boyfriend, such as a kid having trouble with the helmet's weight or another one unable to see due to puting it wrong.

biker!suguru who looks so good unzipping his riding suit and taking off the helmet you can only think of seein that exact image every evening of your life

part one here ✨

#suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #geto x you #suguru x reader #suguru x you #geto suguru fluff #suguru fluff #geto fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #biker!suguru #biker!geto

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rose-pearls · 1 year ago

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The perils of love

Summary: being in love with Luke seemed to be a bad idea as you realise that he doesn't seem to be interested. But as you get ready to move on from love entirely your father decides to appear and two people fall for you.

Main Taglist : @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)

Part 2

Luke Castellan, everyone knew him at camp either for his sword skills or just his kind smiles for every camper that walked into the Hermes cabin. You had fallen for him the moment you met him, sweet brown eyes and a kind smile had you into a puddle.

You had been twelve, wandering around the Hermes cabin, waiting desperately for your parent to claim you but the days went by, and you still were there. The little girls crush however didn’t went by but grew stronger every day you saw the boy who slowly turned into a man that had all the girls going crazy over him.

He had been kind to you but there was always a look that you couldn’t decipher, until today that was.

“So, where is your number one fan Luke?”, you hear Chris say in a teasing tone and after a moment you hear Chris say your name, as if to make it clear it was you.

“I don’t know and frankly I don’t have the time to care right now,” Luke says after letting out a sigh, but you felt your chest tighten at the words. Chris snorts at the words and you don’t expect what he says next.

“You know that there is a betting pool as to when the both of you are going to date,” you don’t know how Luke reacts, as you are practically one with the wall, but you hear him snort.

“Please, she is a sweet girl, but I would never date her. I don’t know how to explain it but sometimes she can just be a little-”, he seems to be trying to find his words and as you wait for it you feel tears brimming in your eyes at his previous statement.

“Clingy? I mean she is practically everywhere you are.”, the words are like a bullet to your heart, particularly when you hear Luke agree.

“I know right, I mean I know that she is still part of the Hermes cabin as she hasn’t been claimed yet but still,” you try to blink the tears away, not willing to cry as you hear the words being said by the man you had always looked up to.

“Maybe she will never be claimed, I mean after three years,” Chris says, and you can hear the grimace in his voice, he says it with such carelessness as if you haven’t been thinking about the same thing every night for the past three years, wondering what was wrong with you.

“We’ll see what happens I guess, but maybe it would be good for her to be in another cabin,” Luke says, he looks like he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, but Chris adds one last phrase to their conversation.

“Or better for you,” there is a quiet hum of agreement and that is the only thing you need before leaving the cabin quietly, the book that you had come for quickly forgotten.

You knew it was pitiful, the fact that they all seemed to know that you liked the Hermes boy and that they all pitied you for it. Because in the end the boy would never go for you, he had a hundred girls waiting for him and yet here you were hoping for the impossible.

Tears are brimming in your eyes, but you quickly brush them away, not wanting to cry after what had happened, you needed to be strong now. It was time for you to get over that stupid crush and get on with your life, maybe if you trained more your godly parent would finally recognize you and claim you.

“What are you doing here all alone?”, you suddenly hear someone say behind you and you turn around to find Annabeth looking at you with worried eyes.

“Thinking, the lake always seems to sooth me,” you say, the words coming a bit weaker than you intended them too. The girl simply nods at your words before sitting down next to you.

“What about you?”, you quietly ask her, and she lets out a sigh.

“Needed to get out a little bit, I can only strategise so much before going crazy,” she says with a small smile, and you can’t help but smile at her words.

“I’m sure your strategy will be incredible, as always,” you tell her and she simply nods, looking too far into her thoughts.

“Chiron is thinking of splitting up the Hermes cabin,” she suddenly says, and you turn to look at her in surprise.

“Really? How so?”, you can’t help but ask, wondering if this is maybe your chance to get a bit away from a certain Hermes boy.

“He thinks that the unclaimed children and children of minor gods should get the chance to chose in which team they want to be,” she looks conflicted, and you can understand why, this could mean less people for the blue team, her team.

“It seems like a kind gesture,” you can’t help but say and Annabeth nods in agreement.

“It is, although he could’ve said it sooner, now we all need to find a different strategy and we are going crazy with figuring out who will be on our team,” she seems overwhelmed, and you can’t help but put your hand on her shoulder trying to calm her down.

“Hey, calm down it will all be alright,” you tell her, and she takes a deep breath before slowly nodding in agreement.

“I know, I just don’t want to lose,” she says with a pout, and you can finally see the twelve-year-old she really is, that childlike excitement at the thought of capture the flag.

The both of you are deep in thought before her voice breaks the silence, her voice small as she talks.

“Which team are you choosing?”, it was probably a valid question to ask, you were unclaimed so you could technically choose which team to be on, but you just couldn’t get the previous conversation you had heard out of your head.

“The fact that you aren’t saying anything makes me think that you are going to go on the red team,” it seems like she is trying to tease you but there is some sort of hurt woven into her words.

“Don’t take it personally,” you can’t help but say, as much as you would’ve liked staying on the blue team you just couldn’t bear to be that close to Luke after what you had heard. You didn’t know what you would be doing tonight as you were sleeping in the same cabin as always, but he wouldn’t pay attention to you not unless you went to him.

“Did something happened with Luke?”, the carefully asked question makes you look at Annabeth with wide eyes, she had an understanding look in her eyes and you couldn’t help but curse the fact that she was Athena’s daughter.

“Nothing happened, I just realised that maybe I should get to know other people and that maybe it would get me out of my comfort zone,” there are a lot of things unsaid, Annabeth knows it too. Luckily, she doesn’t know of the conversation you had heard, or the fact that the words had cut you deeper than you could’ve ever thought they would.

“You should probably tell Chiron and the red team, I heard that they were planning a strategy evening to talk about what they were going to do tomorrow,” you try to find anger in Annabeth’s eyes but there is only understanding and a lingering sadness that seems to disappear as you get up.

“Good idea, I will be doing that right now. Good luck on the strategy and don’t drive yourself crazy Annabeth you will do great,” you tell her, and a sweet smile appears on her lips as she nods slowly making you smile at her.

“Don’t be a stranger!”, she yells as you are about to leave, and you turn around to smile at her.

“I won’t!”, she looks reassured at the words before turning back to the water, leaving you to go towards Chiron office.

“A little birdie told me you were on the red team,” you hear someone say and turn around to find Clarisse smirking at you.

“Would that little birdie be Chiron?”, you ask, feeling breathless after trying to stab the dummy about a hundredth time with your sword.

“I don’t reveal my sources princess,” she says with a smirk while you feel your cheeks heat up, you tell yourself it’s because of the work out you just did.

“We have a meeting tonight, after dinner at the Ares cabin,” she says while looking around the rink before picking up a sword.

“I’ll be there,” you tell her, expecting the girl to leave you alone but she just comes closer to you.

“After that there is a movie night and a sleepover, one of the Aphrodite kids managed to convince Chiron to allow it,” the words leave you confused for a moment, how would you even have a movie night with all these people.

“Only a few people are invited for that part,” she clarifies, and you feel breathless at the sight of her warm brown eyes, seemingly forgetting about other brown eyes.

“How come I am invited?”, you can’t help but ask, wondering why the Ares girl suddenly seemed sweet to you when she was practically attacking anyone else.

“Don’t ask too many questions or you’ll be uninvited princess,” the nickname rolls of her tongue in a way that makes your cheeks go red, once again.

“Fine I’ll stop asking questions and just come with my pajama’s,” you tell her, and a satisfied grin makes his way on her lips.

“Good, now back to serious stuff you were holding your sword the wrong way,” she says like it’s a fact, as if she was pointing out that the sky was blue.

“No, I wasn’t!”, you can’t help but say looking at her with wide eyes.

“Yes, it is, let me help you fix it. I need the best people on my team after all,” you get ready to object but as you feel her get behind you putting her hand over yours on the sword to put your hand correctly you find yourself speechless.

The next hour is spent fighting against each other, but you can’t stop laughing as Clarisse tells you stories of her siblings to try and distract you, which ultimately works as you often end up on your ass. You don’t even seem to notice another pair of brown eyes looking at you, farther away, brows furrowed as he looks at the scene in front of him.

“Welcome to the exclusive sleepover,” you hear a soft voice say and you turn around to find Silena smiling kindly at you, two glasses in her hands before giving one to you.

“Thank you, guess they really were exclusive as I had never heard of them before,” you say, feeling a bit nervous as you look around the room only to find Clarisse in a heated discussion with another Aphrodite girl.

“Clarisse only invites people that she trusts or likes, which isn’t many, but she does cares for them,” Silena smiles at the Ares girl in front of you and you can’t help but do the same, Clarisse always seemed to be angry but in that moment, she seemed far more softer.

“I’m glad she trusts me,” you say, somehow missing the look Silena gives you, a look of confusion as you seem to have missed her clue on Clarisse liking you.

Clarisse had always been discrete about it, but Silena had caught her looking at you far too often to not know about it. Her fingers always seemed to itch when you were sword fighting, as if she was itching to get your posture right and to be able to touch you even for just a few seconds. You only had eyes for the Castellan boy, or it seemed that way until yesterday when Chiron told them that you would be on their team. Silena didn’t ask much of her mother but in that moment, she couldn’t help but ask her mother for help to get the both of you together. Clarisse deserved her happy ending and you deserved someone who would love you for who you were.

She gets woken from her thoughts as she hears Clarisse talking to you, there is a nervousness in her gestures as she pushes her hair behind her ear, but you don’t seem to realize it as you recount a story. Silena quietly gets up from her spot, and sends and encouraging look towards Clarisse, who seems a bit more at ease now.

Capture the flag is a mess, more than the last time but you try not to let your mind wander too long. A boy that you think is from the Hephaestus cabin runs towards you and you sigh in annoyance before starting to fight against him, quickly ‘killing’ him and making him surrender.

You had been tasked with trying to find the blue flag, but it seemed as if Annabeth had found a really good spot this time, and she had put more people in defense. After a while you wondered if you had the wrong hunch until you saw something blue flickering in the reflection of your sword. As you turned to look behind you, you saw the blue flag but weirdly there was no one around it.

“This feels like a trap,” you can’t help but whisper under your breath as you try to hide behind the bushes but a blade against your neck makes you stop in your steps.

“Sorry, but I need to do this,” you hear someone say and you turn around to find a sheepish Percy looking at you.

“Hi Percy,” you say with a kind smile and the boy smiles back, looking reassured that you aren’t mad or swinging your sword at him.

“How are you doing?”, you can’t help but ask, you hadn’t seen him since he had been claimed by Poseidon, but the boy seemed healthy.

“Good, well as good as you can when you learn that your father is one of the big three’s and that your life will be a hellhole,” he says with a roll of his eyes, and you can’t help but snort.

“Still as sarcastic I see,” you can’t help but say while laughing and a sheepish grin forms itself on his lips.

“Can’t help it,” he says while shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s a shame you aren’t on our team,” he says quietly, and you smile softly, the two of you had talked a lot when he had arrived, and you felt close to him.

“Maybe next time,” you tell him and the boy smiles at the answer before asking you a question and the two of you talk for a moment before you hear a battle cry and see the red team suddenly making their way in the clearing, the blue team also appearing.

Percy and you look at each other with wide eyes before you take out your sword.

“If you don’t say anything about this, I won’t say anything,” Percy nods quickly and the both of you break away from the tree you were behind before joining your team as Percy joins his.

An Apollo girl comes running towards you, but you quickly manage to disarm her, others following behind her, but you are in such a haze that you don’t realize how close you are getting to the flag. That is until you are met with a familiar blade, Luke’s.

The boy is looking at you, slightly out of breath from the fighting just like you.

“You can always abandon now sweetheart,” he says and can’t help but blush slightly at the familiar nickname.

“No chance Castellan, give me your worst,” this seems to make the boy laugh before he quickly wields his swords, yours clashing against his in familiar movements. You had fought many times against Luke as he had taught you how to fight but you had a new trick up your sleeve that Clarisse had taught you. She had told you that his left leg was his weakness, a bruise that had never really fully recovered.

So, when the opportunity presents itself, you wield your sword against his left leg, making sure not to hurt him too much. But as you hit the spot Luke winces in pain and his sword leaves his hand. You don’t think at that point and simply continue straight to the flag, whispering a soft ‘sorry’ as you go to the Hermes boy.

You manage to take the flag before seeing Percy coming towards you with his sword, you expect the hit, but he seems transfixed, looking at something above you. There is a loud silence, on a battlefield that was filled with battle cries just a second ago.

Chiron’s voice suddenly comes up, suddenly saying your name.

“Daughter of Zeus, king of the gods,” the rest of his words are lost as you look up, only to see the symbol of Zeus above your head, your father’s symbol.

You didn’t know how to feel, you had been waiting for so long but now that it was happening you just felt lost. Why was he claiming you right now?

“Congratulations! Seems like we are cousins now,” you suddenly hear Percy say, he has a bright smile on his lips, but there is also sadness in his eyes. It takes you a few seconds to understand why, you were now a child of the big three, which meant your life was about to be a hellhole as Percy had said.

“Always though there was something familiar between the two of us,” you try to say in a teasing tone, but it falls flat, Percy nodding in understanding.

As you turn around to look at the rest of the camp you see Luke looking at you with wide brown eyes, as if he was seeing you for the first time. You turn your gaze towards Clarisse who is looking at you with a proud smile and something else that you can’t quite understand.

There was surely a lot of trouble coming but not the one you were expecting, it would be far more complicated than monsters or a father that decided to appear after fifteen years. Matters of the heart were after all the most complicated of all, particularly between a daughter of Zeus, a daughter of Ares and a son of Hermes.

#percy jackson x reader #percy series #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #clarrise la rue #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #luke castellan fluff

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reidmarieprentiss · 5 months ago

Text

Not Her

Summary: Reader can't figure out why Spencer doesn't like her, Spencer doesn't know how to tell her it's not her fault.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: camping, being stuck, wilderness, swimming in underwear, teasing, talks of bullying, insecurities, mild aggression from a male (not spencer), small injury

Word count: 16.6k

a/n: i want to go camping with spencer sooo bad he would be so nerdy and useful

main masterlist

From the moment you joined the BAU, it was obvious that you were entering a tightly knit group. The closeness between the team members was clear, and while you didn’t expect to be everyone’s best friend right off the bat, you were determined to fit in. You took time to get to know everyone, learning their quirks, their likes, and dislikes, hoping to carve out your place within the team.

With Derek, you found an easy-going rapport. His playful nature and quick wit made it easy to banter back and forth. JJ was kind and welcoming, often making a point to include you in conversations or to check in on how you were adjusting. Penelope was a whirlwind of energy, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself swept up in her vibrant world of tech and color. Rossi felt like a wise uncle who loved everyone on the team as his own. Alex was someone who acted as an older sister to you and whom you looked up to very much, and Hotch, though stern, had a way of making you feel like you were a valuable part of the team.

But Spencer Reid… he was different.

From the start, there was a disconnect. It wasn’t as if he was openly hostile or dismissive—he was far too professional for that. But there was something in the way he avoided your gaze during meetings, or how he seemed to drift to the opposite side of the room whenever you entered. You had caught him, more than once, excusing himself from a conversation as you approached, as if the mere prospect of talking to you was something he couldn’t bear.

At first, you tried to brush it off, convincing yourself that he was just shy or perhaps overwhelmed by the demands of the job. After all, you knew that Spencer wasn’t the most socially adept person in the world. But as time went on, the distance between you and him became more apparent, and it started to gnaw at you.

You didn’t need everyone to like you. You had learned long ago that such a goal was impossible, especially in a high-stakes environment like the BAU. But the way Spencer acted around you—like he could barely stand to be in the same room—was something you couldn’t ignore. You were both professionals, and you could work together when necessary, but it was clear that there was a barrier between you, one that wasn’t present with the rest of the team.

You found yourself replaying your interactions with him over and over in your mind, trying to pinpoint where things had gone wrong. Was it something you had said? Something you had done? Had you offended him without realizing it? Every smile you offered that went unreturned, every attempt at conversation that fizzled out into uncomfortable silence, only deepened the mystery.

—

The whole team could see the ridge between you and Spencer, but no one was any more privy to its cause than you were. Naturally, they had asked, each of them trying to get to the bottom of the tension, but Spencer always brushed it off, insisting he had nothing against you. And technically, he wasn’t lying—it wasn’t you he had a problem with.

The team had noticed the rift between you and Spencer early on. It was impossible to ignore, especially in a group as close-knit as the BAU. And so, they took it upon themselves to try and bridge the gap, often resorting to what they jokingly referred to as “parent trapping” the two of you.

Whenever the team needed to double up on rooms during cases, you and Spencer were always the ones paired together. If there were assignments to be handled in pairs, it was somehow always the two of you that got teamed up. On the jet or at the round table, there would only be one spot left for each of you, forcing you to sit side by side. And then there were the bar nights—group outings where, mysteriously, everyone else would bail out at the last minute, leaving just you and Spencer nursing your drinks awkwardly.

But despite their best efforts, nothing seemed to work. Spencer wasn’t warming up to you, no matter how many times you ended up in forced proximity. The wall between you remained as solid as ever, and eventually, you stopped trying to break through it. You resigned yourself to the fact that whatever issue he had with you, it wasn’t something you could change.

However, Rossi—always the wise, seasoned veteran—was not ready to give up just yet. He had one last trick up his sleeve, one final attempt to get you and Spencer to break through the barrier between you.

A team bonding camping excursion.

It was the perfect setup. Out in the wilderness, away from the usual comforts and distractions of your everyday lives, you would all be forced to rely on each other. And maybe, just maybe, the isolation would do what all the previous attempts had failed to achieve.

But here’s the final kicker—when the day of the camping trip arrived, everyone else conveniently piled into cars together, leaving you and Spencer to drive alone in your car. You noticed the sly looks exchanged between your teammates as they handed out the keys, but before you could protest, Spencer was already sliding into the passenger seat of your vehicle.

Just as you were about to follow the convoy of cars out of the parking lot, Rossi strolled over to your window, an easygoing smile on his face. He handed you a printed sheet of directions, different from the ones the others had received.

"Just in case you get separated," he said with a wink, his tone far too innocent.

You couldn't shake the feeling that Rossi had planned this down to the last detail. Of course, you and Spencer wouldn’t just be separated from the group—you’d be on an entirely different route, one that would give you no choice but to spend even more time together, alone and without the safety net of your other teammates.

As you pulled out of the lot, Spencer sat quietly beside you, his eyes trained on the passing scenery. The silence in the car was heavy, almost suffocating, but there was nothing you could do now. You were in this together, whether either of you liked it or not.

And as the miles stretched out ahead of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what Rossi had in mind, and if this final trick up his sleeve would finally be the one to force Spencer to open up—or if it would just deepen the divide between you.

—

The campsite was a solid three hours away, and while the drive was scenic enough, it didn't change the fact that you had a small bladder and a penchant for drinking a lot of water and coffee. It was inevitable that you'd need to make a pit stop before reaching your destination.

As you glanced at the time on the dashboard and then at the half-empty travel mug in the cupholder, you sighed internally. You’d need to pull over soon. The thought of having to break the silence yet again didn’t exactly thrill you, but the discomfort was starting to outweigh your hesitation.

“Reid,” you said, breaking the quiet that had settled over the car. “I’m going to stop and use the restroom. Want me to grab you anything?”

Spencer, who had been quietly absorbed in the book he was reading, glanced up briefly, his expression neutral. “No, thank you,” he replied politely before returning his attention to the pages in front of him.

You nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and pulled off at the next rest stop. As you parked and unbuckled your seatbelt, you tried not to dwell on the strained exchange. It wasn’t much different from the countless other interactions you’d had with Spencer—brief, polite, and devoid of any real connection.

—

You’d been driving for what felt like ages, the occasional road sign the only indication that you were getting closer to your destination. You were determined to reach the campsite without any further detours, but the unfamiliar roads and winding paths made it easy to second-guess yourself.

“Reid,” you said, breaking the silence again that had settled back over the car like a heavy blanket. “I think we’re getting close. Can you give me directions, please?”

Spencer looked up from his book, blinking a few times as he refocused on the world outside. “Yeah,” he replied simply, his voice still carrying that same detached tone.

He reached for the directions Rossi had given you earlier, unfolding the paper and scanning the instructions. His finger traced the lines of text as he read through the details, his brow furrowing slightly as he calculated the next turn.

“Take the next left,” he instructed, his eyes flicking up to the road ahead. “And then, after about two miles, there should be a right turn onto a dirt road. That should lead us directly to the campsite.”

“Got it,” you said, following his directions carefully, hoping that this final stretch would be as straightforward as he made it sound.

As you turned onto the narrow, winding road Spencer had pointed out, the trees began to close in around you, their dense foliage casting dappled shadows on the path. The silence returned, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a bird. You glanced over at Spencer, who was once again absorbed in his book, his focus seemingly unshakeable.

You couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind. Did he realize how obvious the team’s attempts at pushing you two together were? Or was he simply indifferent to it all, content to keep you at arm’s length?

—

“Okay…” you mumbled under your breath as you pulled into what looked like a campsite. The trees parted just enough to reveal a small clearing, but the emptiness of it made you hesitate. The gravel crunched under the tires as you rolled to a stop, and you squinted through the windshield, scanning the area. “This should be the place… Do you see anyone else?”

Spencer lifted his gaze from his book, his eyes narrowing as he looked around the deserted clearing. “Uh, no. No, I do not.”

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach. You leaned forward, double-checking the area, but it was clear—you and Spencer were the only ones there. “Did I take a wrong turn?”

“Not according to the directions,” Spencer replied, his voice calm but not particularly reassuring.

You let out a slow breath, trying to push down the rising anxiety. “Maybe we beat them here?”

“That’s unlikely,” Spencer said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Due to the number of times you pulled over for the restroom.”

You couldn’t help the slight flush that crept up your neck at his blunt observation. “Right,” you said, your voice tight as you tried to figure out what to do next. “So… what do we do now? Should we wait for them to show up?”

Spencer hesitated, his eyes flicking back to the directions. “It’s possible they took a different route. But considering how empty this place is, I’d say we’re either very early, or we’re not at the right site.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, feeling the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders. “Great. Just great. I’ll give Rossi a call,” you muttered, more to yourself than to Spencer, as you reached for your phone. The screen lit up, but when you glanced at the signal bar, your stomach dropped—no signal. “Uh, do you happen to have a signal on your cellphone?”

Spencer pulled his phone from his pocket and checked, his brow furrowing as he studied the screen. After a moment, he sighed, the sound tinged with resignation. “Nope.”

“Fantastic,” you said, the sarcasm barely masking your frustration. “Should we wait for a bit and see if anyone else shows up?”

Spencer considered the suggestion, his gaze drifting back to the empty clearing. “That seems like the best choice right now,” he agreed, his voice steady but lacking any real optimism.

With nothing else to do, you both settled into the uncomfortable silence, the quiet only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. The minutes stretched on, each one feeling longer than the last as you both kept your eyes on the road, hoping to see the rest of the team’s cars pull in. But the road remained empty, and the only company you had was the uneasy tension that had settled between you.

If this was Rossi’s idea of getting you and Spencer to bond, it was off to a rocky start.

—

The campsite in front of you looked serene and peaceful, bathed in the soft light filtering through the towering trees. The fire pit in the center was surrounded by a few scattered logs, perfect for sitting around and enjoying the warmth of a campfire. Despite its picturesque setting, the site was eerily empty, with no sign of the team anywhere.

Eventually, you heard the sound of Spencer unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. The soft click of the door opening made you glance over. “What are you doing?” you asked, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

“Getting out,” Spencer replied simply as he stepped onto the gravel. “I want to stretch my legs.”

You nodded, realizing that was a good idea. “Yeah, good idea,” you agreed, your tone a bit lighter now. The tension of being cooped up in the car with nothing but silence between you two was beginning to wear on you.

You both got out of the car, the fresh air a welcome change after the long drive. As you stood there, taking in the surroundings, you couldn’t help but feel a bit more relaxed. The forest around you was alive with the sounds of nature—the rustling of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the faint crackle of the fire pit from when it was last used.

Spencer moved toward the center of the campsite, his hands tucked into his pockets as he looked around. “It’s a nice spot,�� he commented, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation.

You walked a little closer to him, scanning the area for any signs of the team. “Yeah,” you agreed, though the emptiness still gnawed at you. “But it’s weird that no one else is here yet.”

Spencer nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. “Maybe they’re just running late. Or they took a different route like I said before.”

You glanced back at the car, then around the site again. It was hard to shake the feeling that something was off, but there wasn’t much you could do about it now. “Well, at least it’s peaceful,” you said, trying to focus on the positive.

Spencer gave a small nod, seemingly content to stand there in the stillness of the forest. Despite the lingering uncertainty, there was something calming about the solitude, and for a moment, the silence between you felt less strained and more comfortable.

—

As the sun dipped lower behind the trees, casting long shadows across the campsite, you felt a growing sense of unease. The emptiness of the site was now coupled with the approaching darkness, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. You finally voiced your concern, unable to keep it to yourself any longer. “Spencer, they’re obviously not coming. Should we drive around? Look for a fire? Or just head home?”

Spencer, who had been pacing slightly near the car, stopped and looked at you, his expression conflicted. “I don’t—I don’t know what we should do,” he admitted, his voice wavering slightly, a rare display of uncertainty from him.

You bit your lip, weighing the options. None of them seemed particularly appealing, especially as the light continued to fade. “Okay… do you just want to set up here for the night and figure it out in the morning?”

“Umm… yeah,” he agreed after a moment, though his tone was far from confident. “Do you mind if I sleep in the car?”

That caught you off guard. “Sure…” you replied slowly, trying to mask your surprise. Spencer had always been an enigma, but this felt particularly strange. It wasn’t like him to be so unsettled.

Alas, you pushed the oddness aside and decided to focus on the practical. You set about pitching your tent, the familiar motions calming your nerves slightly. Once it was up, you ducked inside to change into your pajamas, eager to get a fire going and start making some food. The pangs of hunger were beginning to make themselves known, and you knew you needed to eat something soon.

When you emerged from the tent, you glanced over at Spencer, who was standing by the car, arms crossed, looking even more out of place than usual. “Spencer, you can use my tent to change if you want,” you offered, trying to bridge the gap between you.

“No thank you, I’m fine,” he replied quickly, almost too quickly. His refusal struck you as odd, adding to the growing list of things that didn’t seem right about this situation.

“Would you mind getting the cooler from the boot then?” you asked, hoping to keep things moving forward, even if everything else felt off.

Spencer nodded and moved to the back of the car, retrieving the cooler with a quiet efficiency. But as you started preparing the food, you couldn’t help but notice how closely he was watching you. His gaze was intense, almost as if he was studying you—or perhaps watching out for something.

It was unsettling, to say the least. You tried to brush it off, focusing on the task at hand, but it was difficult to ignore the prickling sensation of being observed so intently. “Everything okay?” you asked casually as you stirred the food, hoping to ease some of the tension.

Spencer blinked, seeming to snap out of whatever thoughts had been occupying his mind. “Yeah,” he said, though his tone wasn’t entirely convincing.

You paused for a moment, considering his words. While it wasn’t unusual for Spencer to be cautious, the way he was acting now felt different—like he was on edge, anticipating something. “Let’s eat and get some rest. We’ll figure everything out in the morning.”

He nodded, but the unease didn’t leave his eyes. As you finished cooking and began to serve up the food, you couldn’t help but wonder what had Spencer so spooked—and whether you should be more concerned than you already were.

—

That night, Spencer stuck to his word and slept in the car with the doors locked. You couldn’t help but feel a little puzzled by his behavior—he seemed so on edge, far more than you’d ever seen him, and it left you wondering why he had agreed to come camping in the first place. The idea of him spending the night in a locked car instead of enjoying the fresh air and the open sky was odd, to say the least.

But despite the lingering unease, you slept surprisingly well. Camping had always been something you loved—the scent of the pine trees, the sounds of the forest, the cool breeze that swept through the tent—all of it made you feel at peace. The night was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl, and you drifted off easily, wrapped in your sleeping bag.

When you woke the next morning, the sun was already casting a warm glow over the campsite. You stretched, feeling refreshed, and emerged from your tent to find Spencer already awake. He was crouched by a small fire, a pot of instant coffee brewing over the flames. The sight of him tending to the fire, his movements precise and deliberate, was a little surprising. It was clear that he hadn’t slept much—if at all.

“Good morning,” you mumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you walked over to him.

“Morning,” Spencer replied, his voice calm but still carrying that edge of tension.

You sat down on one of the logs near the fire, enjoying the warmth it provided as you shook off the last remnants of sleep. “How’d you sleep?” you asked, trying to gauge his mood.

“Fine,” he answered shortly, though you weren’t convinced. “You?”

“Really good,” you said with a small smile. “I love the fresh air. There’s just something about being out here that makes everything feel better.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze fixed on the pot of coffee as he stirred it. “Yeah, fresh air is good,” he said absently, though his tone lacked the enthusiasm you had.

You watched him for a moment, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the way he seemed to be holding himself together with sheer willpower. Something was definitely off, but you weren’t sure how to address it without making him uncomfortable. “Spencer,” you began cautiously, “is everything okay? You seem… different.”

He paused, the spoon in his hand stilling as he considered your question. After a long moment, he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I just… I don’t like the idea of being out here without the rest of the team. It doesn’t feel right.”

His admission caught you off guard. You knew Spencer was meticulous, always needing to have control over the details, but you hadn’t realized just how much this situation was affecting him. “I get that,” you said softly, trying to offer some reassurance. “But we’re safe here, and we’ll figure things out. Maybe we’ll hear from them once we’re back in range.”

Spencer gave a small nod, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. “Yeah, maybe,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You decided to let the conversation drop, not wanting to push him further. Instead, you focused on the comforting smell of coffee and the crackling of the fire. The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the trees, casting a golden light over the campsite. For a moment, you allowed yourself to relax, taking in the peaceful surroundings.

But as you glanced around the site, something caught your eye—a piece of paper tacked to a tree, fluttering slightly in the breeze. “Hey, did you see that?” you asked, pointing towards it.

Before Spencer could answer, you were already on your feet, walking towards the tree. The paper was pinned to the bark with a small tack, and as you pulled it down, you quickly scanned the handwritten note. Your eyes widened as you read the familiar handwriting, the message becoming clear.

Hey guys!

I know you’ll be mad about this, but please see it from our point of view. We sent you two to a separate site, please talk through your issues, we are a team and we need to be able to trust each other. Obviously, we can’t force you to stay, but if you do come home early, you will each have to take two paid days off. No work.

Please, work it out.

You stared at the note in disbelief for a moment, the words sinking in. This whole thing—Rossi’s directions, the empty campsite, the strange sense of being set up—it had all been orchestrated by the team. They had sent you and Spencer to a completely different site, forcing you into isolation together with the clear intention that you’d hash out whatever had been causing the rift between you.

You turned back to Spencer, holding the note up so he could see it. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, frustration and disbelief coloring your voice.

Spencer stood up and walked over, taking the paper from your hand. His eyes quickly scanned the note, and you could see the tension in his shoulders as he realized what had happened. “They… they set us up,” he said quietly, his voice laced with irritation and something else—maybe betrayal.

“Yeah, looks like it,” you replied, crossing your arms as you processed the situation. “They’re basically holding us hostage until we ‘work it out.’”

Spencer shook his head, clearly struggling with the realization. “They can’t just force us to talk. We’re not children.”

“Apparently, they think we need to be treated like we are,” you replied, the frustration in your voice mirroring his.

He remained silent, his eyes still fixed on the note as if it might offer some sort of solution. The fire crackled behind you, the only sound breaking the heavy tension that had settled between the two of you. The note in his hand felt like a ticking time bomb, and you both knew there was no avoiding the conversation any longer.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. This wasn’t how you had envisioned things going, but there was no turning back now. “Spencer… should we just talk about it?” you asked, your voice softer, almost pleading.

“About what?” he replied, still not meeting your eyes, his tone flat and defensive.

“Come on… please,” you urged, trying to keep your frustration at bay. You needed to get to the bottom of this, once and for all. “Did I do something to you?”

“No,” he answered quickly, his voice sharp with finality.

“But you don’t like me,” you pressed, feeling the frustration bubbling up. It wasn’t just his short answers that were getting to you; it was the wall he was so clearly putting up, the refusal to even entertain the possibility of a conversation. You were tired of dancing around the issue, of feeling like you were constantly walking on eggshells around him.

“It’s not—” Spencer started, but then he cut himself off, clenching his jaw. His eyes finally met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flash in them—something like pain, or maybe guilt. But just as quickly, he looked away, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The firmness in his voice left little room for argument, but you weren’t ready to give up. Not after everything. “Spencer, please,” you said, trying to reach him on a level beyond the walls he’d built around himself. “I’m not trying to push you, but this… whatever this is between us… it’s affecting the team. It’s affecting us. We can’t just keep pretending it doesn’t exist.”

Spencer’s shoulders tensed, and you could see the internal struggle he was facing, the way his mind was working through a hundred different thoughts at once. He seemed to be weighing his options, considering whether or not to open up. But in the end, all he did was shake his head again, his expression closing off. “I can’t,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, but I just… I can’t.”

You felt a pang of disappointment, not just for yourself, but for him too. Whatever was going on inside his head, it was clearly something he wasn’t ready—or willing—to share. And that left you at an impasse, standing on opposite sides of a divide neither of you knew how to cross.

“Okay, well,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration as you turned away from him, “I’m just going to go for a walk then.”

Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes widening slightly in alarm. “No, Y/N, that could be dangerous,” he said, his tone more urgent than you expected. There was a genuine concern in his voice, a sharp contrast to the distance he’d been maintaining.

“I don’t care,” you replied, your words coming out sharper than you intended. You needed to clear your head, to get some space, even if it meant wandering off into the woods. The tension between you and Spencer had reached a breaking point, and staying here, in this stifling atmosphere, felt unbearable.

You turned and started walking away, not really caring which direction you were heading. The forest loomed around you, the trees casting long shadows in the morning light, but you welcomed the solitude. You needed time to think, to process everything that had just happened.

Behind you, you heard Spencer call your name again, but you didn’t stop. The sound of his voice faded as you walked deeper into the trees, the cool air brushing against your skin as you moved further away from the campsite. You didn’t know where you were going or how far you would walk, but right now, that didn’t matter. All you wanted was some distance—from the campsite, from Spencer, from the emotions that had been building up inside you.

You heard the leaves crunch beneath your boots as you continued walking, the forest growing quieter with each step. The anger and frustration that had driven you out here began to ebb, replaced by a heavy feeling of sadness. You didn’t know why Spencer was so intent on keeping you at arm’s length, but whatever it was, it hurt. It hurt more than you wanted to admit.

But for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the rhythm of your footsteps and the cool, fresh air filling your lungs. The walk might not solve anything, but it was a start. At least out here, you could breathe.

—

When you finally returned to the campsite, the tension in your chest had eased, though the lingering frustration and sadness hadn’t entirely left. As you approached, you noticed Spencer sitting by the fire, a new book in his hands. His fingers flicked through the pages at lightning speed, a blur of motion as he absorbed the text with the kind of intensity that only Spencer Reid could muster.

He didn’t look up right away, but you noticed his ears perk up at the sound of your footsteps crunching over the forest floor. It was a subtle movement, but it was clear he was aware of your presence, even if he wasn’t immediately acknowledging it.

You stood there for a moment, watching him as he continued to read, his focus unwavering despite your return. The sight of him, so deeply engrossed in his book, made you wonder if he’d spent the entire time trying to escape into its pages, to block out the unresolved tension between you both.

“Okay, Spencer,” you began, your voice steady as you walked closer to where he sat. “Here it is. I’ll drive us back tonight. I’ll tell Hotch that I made us leave and I’ll take the two days of paid leave. It’s fine. You don’t have to talk to me, and I’ll take the blame.”

Spencer finally looked up from his book, his eyes widening slightly as he processed your words. There was surprise and confusion in his expression, as if he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying. For a moment, he just stared at you, the book forgotten in his hands.

“You… you’d do that?” he asked, his voice soft, almost uncertain. He had expected you to be angry, maybe even confrontational after the way things had gone earlier, but instead, here you were, offering to take the blame, to make it easier for him.

It was clear that Spencer couldn’t believe how nice you were being, especially after everything. He had spent so long keeping you at a distance, fearing that you might turn out to be like your sister, but your words and actions were proving just how wrong he might have been.

“Yeah,” you said with a small shrug, trying to downplay the gesture even though it meant a lot to you. “I mean, we’re obviously not getting anywhere with this. If leaving early is what’s best, then that’s what we’ll do. And I don’t mind taking the hit for it. I’m not going to force you to talk if you don’t want to.”

Spencer swallowed, still struggling to find the right words. He wasn’t used to this kind of kindness, especially not from someone he had kept at arm’s length for so long. It was disarming, to say the least.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” he finally admitted, his voice tinged with genuine surprise. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a soft, understanding smile. “But I’m offering to because I know this whole situation isn’t easy for either of us. I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable.”

For a long moment, Spencer just looked at you, trying to reconcile the person standing in front of him with the fears and assumptions he had held onto for so long.

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice sincere. “I… I really appreciate it. But maybe… maybe we don’t have to leave just yet. We could just… see how things go.”

You nodded, sensing the tentative olive branch he was offering. “Okay,” you said gently, feeling a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something better between the two of you.

Spencer nodded, a small, almost hesitant smile forming on his lips. It was a start—a small one, but a start nonetheless.

“Could I maybe ask you a question?” you ventured, your voice tentative, hoping to bridge the gap between you both just a little more.

“Sure,” Spencer said, closing his book slightly but still keeping his thumb between the pages, as if not entirely ready to let go of his comfort zone.

“Did I… do something?” you asked, the question hanging in the air between you. You had to know, even if it was uncomfortable.

Spencer’s eyes softened as he shook his head. “No,” he replied, his tone gentle, yet firm. “You didn’t do anything.”

There was a brief pause, the silence between you more comfortable now than it had been earlier. You gave a small nod, accepting his answer even if it didn’t give you all the clarity you had hoped for. “Okay, I’ll leave you with your book,” you said, starting to step back, figuring he might want some space.

But to your surprise, Spencer didn’t pick up where he left off in his book. Instead, he looked up at you, his expression more open than it had been since you’d met. “You don’t have to… we can talk a bit,” he offered, and though his voice was cautious, there was a genuine willingness in it.

You smiled slightly, appreciating the gesture. “Alright,” you agreed, trying to think of something simple to start with. “Um, where did you grow up?”

“Las Vegas,” Spencer answered, the familiar name rolling off his tongue with a mix of nostalgia and a hint of something else—perhaps a memory he wasn’t sure he wanted to share yet.

“Seriously?” you asked, your eyes widening with surprise.

“Yeah… is that weird?” Spencer replied, his expression uncertain, as if he was bracing for your reaction.

“No, no, that’s where I grew up too,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. The coincidence was almost too much to wrap your head around.

“Oh…” Spencer’s voice trailed off, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. He seemed hesitant, like there was something more he wasn’t saying.

You narrowed your eyes playfully, sensing there was more to the story. “Okay, you know something. Did you see my file or something?”

Spencer hesitated, his eyes darting away for a moment before he answered. “Or something…”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, half-joking, but still curious. “Oh, come on, Spencer. What’s up? What school did you go to?”

“Las Vegas High,” he admitted, finally meeting your gaze again.

Your eyes lit up with recognition. “Me too! Wait… but you’re only two years younger than me. Would I have known you?”

Spencer’s expression shifted slightly, and you could see a mix of emotions flicker across his face—hesitation, discomfort, maybe even a touch of embarrassment. “No… uh, I was a freshman at 8 years old.”

“Woah! That’s insane!” you exclaimed, genuinely amazed. “That must have been so difficult for you.”

“It was,” Spencer admitted quietly, his voice carrying the weight of old memories.

You felt a pang of empathy for him, imagining how tough it must have been to navigate high school as a child. The challenges he faced were beyond anything you could have imagined at that age. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I wish we had been in school at the same time, we could have been friends,” you said, offering him a warm smile.

Spencer’s discomfort was palpable, and you could sense it immediately, like a shift in the air between you. He shifted in his seat, his gaze dropping back to the ground as if he was retreating into himself again. “What did we bring for dinner tonight?” he asked, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to steer the conversation away from where it had been heading.

The sudden change in topic stung, a pang of rejection hitting you square in the chest. You had thought, just for a moment, that you were making progress, that maybe you were getting through to him. But you knew Spencer well enough by now to realize that he wasn’t ready to go there, not yet. And pushing him wouldn’t help.

So, for his sake, you forced yourself to move on. “Uh, hotdogs, I think,” you said, trying to match his casual tone, even though the disappointment lingered in the back of your mind.

You busied yourself with preparing the food, focusing on the simple task of gathering the ingredients and setting them up by the fire. The familiar motions helped ground you, giving you something to concentrate on besides the unease that had crept back into your interactions.

Spencer remained quiet, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you worked. There was a tension in his posture, a subtle but unmistakable sign that he was still grappling with whatever had made him uncomfortable in the first place.

“Hotdogs it is, then,” you said, forcing a small smile as you handed him a stick to skewer the hotdogs. You hoped that by focusing on something as simple as cooking dinner, you could ease some of the tension between you, even if the conversation from earlier still hung heavy in the air.

Spencer took the stick from you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments. “Thanks,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours for just a second before he looked away again.

As the two of you cooked over the fire, the crackling flames and the scent of roasting hotdogs filled the air, creating a more comfortable silence. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start, and for now, that was enough.

—

The conversation over dinner had been light and mostly focused on work—discussing cases, swapping stories about the more mundane aspects of life at the BAU. It was easy, familiar territory, a safe haven for both of you to retreat to after the earlier tension. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the campsite, a quiet settled between you.

After finishing your meal, you excused yourself to change into your pajamas, the cool night air making you eager to get comfortable. When you returned to the fire, Spencer was still sitting by the flames, the orange light flickering over his face as he stared into the fire, lost in thought.

You approached him, sitting back down across from him. The night was still, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the distant rustle of leaves. For a moment, you hesitated, not wanting to break the fragile peace, but curiosity got the better of you.

“Hey, Reid,” you called softly, trying to ease into the question that had been on your mind since the night before.

“Mhm,” he hummed in response, not looking up from the fire but clearly acknowledging you.

You bit your lip, then decided to just go for it. “Why did you sleep in the car?”

The question hung in the air between you, and you saw Spencer’s entire body stiffen. He froze, his eyes widening slightly, the tension in his shoulders returning in an instant. You could tell he didn’t want to answer, and for a second, you regretted asking. But you had to know.

“Just safer, I guess,” he finally mumbled, his voice tight and unconvincing. His eyes remained fixed on the fire, avoiding your gaze entirely.

You could sense there was more to it, something he wasn’t telling you, but you decided not to push. Spencer was clearly uncomfortable, and whatever the real reason was, he wasn’t ready to share it. So you nodded, accepting his explanation even if it didn’t feel entirely truthful.

“Okay,” you said softly, letting the matter drop. You didn’t want to make him feel any more uneasy than he already did.

—

Halfway through the night, you jolted awake, your heart pounding in your chest. There was an eerie, unsettling sound coming from outside your tent—a low, persistent noise that sent chills down your spine. You tried to ignore it, to convince yourself it was just the wind or some animal moving through the underbrush, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t calm down. The noise wasn’t stopping, and the longer it went on, the more your imagination ran wild.

Unable to shake the growing fear, you carefully and quietly unzipped your sleeping bag and slipped out of the tent. The cold night air hit you immediately, but the fear kept you moving. You crept toward the car, every step making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. When you reached the car, you knocked lightly on the window, hoping not to startle Spencer too much.

“Spencer!” you whisper-yelled, trying to keep your voice low but urgent. You could see him stir where he had flattened the back seats into a makeshift bed, his body shifting as he came to.

“Reid!” you whispered again, a little more urgently this time.

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at you with wide, confused eyes. He sat up quickly, clearly surprised to see you standing there in the middle of the night. He leaned forward and unlocked the door, cracking it open just enough to speak to you. “What??” he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep and a touch of irritation.

“Can I come in, please?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly with fear.

Spencer blinked, clearly not expecting that. “No??” he replied, still half-asleep and unsure of what you were asking.

“Spencer, there’s a really scary noise out here,” you pleaded, your fear becoming more evident as you looked at him with wide, desperate eyes. “Please, please let me in.”

Spencer hesitated, his mind racing. He was still wary, worried that this might be some sort of prank or something worse. But as he looked at you, really looked at you, he saw the genuine fear in your expression. You weren’t trying to mess with him—you were genuinely scared. He’d never seen you like this before.

“Okay, fine,” he finally relented, scooting over to make room for you in the cramped space.

You didn’t waste any time, quickly crawling into the car and pulling the door closed behind you. As soon as you were inside, Spencer locked the doors again, the click of the locks echoing in the silence.

The two of you sat there for a moment, the car suddenly feeling much smaller with both of you inside. The strange noise outside continued, but now that you were with Spencer, the fear didn’t seem as overwhelming. You still couldn’t pinpoint what the noise was, but you felt safer with him there, even if he was still a bit unsure about the whole situation.

Spencer looked at you, his expression softening slightly. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the irritation gone.

You nodded, still trying to calm your racing heart. “Yeah… I just couldn’t stay in the tent with that noise. It was freaking me out.”

He nodded in understanding, though his eyes flicked toward the windows, clearly trying to listen for the noise himself. “It’s probably just an animal,” he said, trying to reassure both you and himself.

“Maybe,” you whispered, though you weren’t entirely convinced. But for now, you were just grateful to be out of the tent and with someone who made you feel a little less alone.

—

Eventually, despite the lingering fear and the cramped quarters, exhaustion took over, and you both drifted off to sleep in the back of the car. The strange noise outside had faded into the background, and the warmth of the enclosed space made it easier to relax.

Sometime in the middle of the night, however, Spencer stirred from his sleep, his body shifting slightly as he became aware of something unexpected. Blinking his eyes open, he realized with a start that your limbs were wrapped around him, your body pressed close as you clung to him in your sleep. Your arm was draped over his chest, your leg tangled with his, and your head was nestled against his shoulder. It was as if you had sought out the warmth and security he provided, even unconsciously.

Spencer froze, his mind racing as he tried to process the situation. He wasn’t used to this—intimacy, even in such an innocent form, was foreign territory for him. His heart started to race, not out of fear but out of sheer confusion. What was he supposed to do? Should he wake you? Should he try to untangle himself without disturbing you?

But as he lay there, feeling the rise and fall of your breathing against him, he couldn’t bring himself to move. There was something oddly comforting about the way you had sought him out, something that made him feel… needed. It was a feeling he wasn’t accustomed to, and it left him at a loss for what to do next.

He glanced down at you, seeing the peaceful expression on your face as you slept. The fear and tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by a calmness that was almost contagious. Spencer’s mind continued to whirl, but he didn’t want to disturb you—not when you seemed so at ease.

So, he stayed still, letting you cling to him, trying to reconcile the strange mix of emotions coursing through him. The awkwardness was still there, but it was tempered by a quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, things between you two were starting to change. And for the first time in a long while, that didn’t seem so terrifying after all.

—

When the morning sun filtered through the trees, casting warm golden rays across the campsite, Spencer was already outside, crouched by the fire as he prepared coffee. The familiar scent of brewing coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the fresh scent of the forest, creating a peaceful start to the day. You emerged from the car, feeling a little stiff from the cramped sleep, but more than that, you were feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

You approached Spencer, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Hey… thanks again for letting me bunk with you,” you said, your voice laced with genuine gratitude.

“No problem,” Spencer replied, his tone flat, distant, as he focused on the coffee. He didn’t look up, his gaze firmly fixed on the task at hand.

The coldness in his voice felt like a sharp contrast to the fleeting moment of connection you thought you’d shared the night before. You sighed, the disappointment settling heavily in your chest. Somehow, it seemed like you’d messed up again, and you couldn’t help but feel the sting of rejection all over again.

“Did that… make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry,” you ventured, hoping to clear the air, even if it meant confronting whatever it was that had made him withdraw.

“It’s fine,” Spencer replied, his voice clipped, as if he was trying to end the conversation before it could really start. He still didn’t meet your eyes, his attention entirely on the coffee pot.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the familiar ache of misunderstanding between you two. It was clear that whatever had happened during the night had unsettled him, but he wasn’t willing to talk about it. The walls were back up, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t seem to break through.

But instead of pressing further, you decided to let it go, at least for now. Pushing Spencer never worked, and you knew that trying to force a conversation would only make things worse. So you offered him a small, resigned smile, even if he wasn’t looking to see it.

“Okay,” you said softly, accepting his response even though it left you feeling hollow.

You sat down by the fire, quietly waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. The silence between you felt heavy, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had taken a step backward after all the progress you thought you’d made.

“Um, we can head out whenever you’re ready. We only had to stay until today,” you mumbled, your voice subdued as you stood up and started to take down your tent. You avoided looking directly at Spencer, the awkwardness of the morning still hanging in the air.

“Oh, okay,” Spencer replied, his tone neutral, though you could sense a hint of hesitation in his response.

As you began to disassemble the tent, Spencer watched you for a moment, the silence between you lingering. Despite everything, he found himself reluctant to leave. The tension and awkwardness aside, there had been moments—small, fleeting moments—where he had actually enjoyed your company. The quiet of the campsite, the simplicity of the night, even the unexpected comfort he’d found in your presence last night… it was all something he hadn’t anticipated.

He felt a strange pull, a desire to stay just a little longer, even if he couldn’t quite articulate why. But he was Spencer Reid, and expressing those kinds of feelings wasn’t something that came easily to him. Instead, he stood there, conflicted, as he watched you go about packing up.

“Actually… we don’t have to rush,” Spencer finally said, his voice softer now. “If you want, we could stay for a little while longer. There’s no hurry.”

You paused in your task, surprised by his words. You turned to look at him, searching his face for any sign of what had changed his mind. “Are you sure?” you asked cautiously, not wanting to impose if he really wanted to leave.

Spencer nodded, his expression more open than it had been all morning. “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s… nice out here. Peaceful.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, and for the first time that morning, you felt a bit of the tension ease. Maybe you hadn’t messed up as badly as you thought. “Okay,” you agreed, setting the tent pole back down. “We can stay a little longer.”

Spencer gave a small, almost imperceptible smile in return, and as the two of you stood there in the morning light, it felt like there was a chance to start over—to take the time neither of you had been willing to take before.

—

After a simple breakfast, you looked over at Spencer, feeling a bit more at ease with the morning stretching out before you. “When I went for a walk, I saw a body of water,” you suggested, trying to keep the conversation light and inviting. “Do you want to go check it out?”

Spencer looked up from his coffee, a little surprised by the suggestion. “Oh, sure,” he agreed, his tone more relaxed than it had been earlier.

The two of you set off through the trees, following the path you had taken before. It didn’t take long to find the body of water again, the sunlight reflecting off its surface in shimmering patterns. The sight was even more beautiful now, with the morning light casting a gentle glow over the water.

“It’s gorgeous,” Spencer said softly, his voice filled with genuine appreciation as he took in the scene.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your eyes sweeping over the peaceful setting. The water was so clear, so inviting, that you couldn’t resist the urge to get in. “I’m going to get in,” you announced, already starting to kick off your shoes.

“What?” Spencer’s voice cracked, his surprise evident as he watched you strip down to your undergarments without hesitation. His cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as you waded into the cold, refreshing water, a small shiver running through you as the temperature hit your skin.

The water was invigorating, waking you up in a way that the morning coffee never could. You splashed around a bit, reveling in the feeling of the water against your skin. Turning back to Spencer, who was still standing at the edge, looking unsure of what to do, you grinned. “Do you know how to swim, genius?”

“Yes,” he replied, blushing even deeper as he averted his eyes slightly, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of decorum despite the situation.

“Do you want to join me?” you asked, your voice light and teasing as you floated on your back, letting the water carry you.

Spencer hesitated, clearly torn between his natural inclination to stay dry and the surprising appeal of joining you in the water. After a moment, he looked back at you, the uncertainty in his eyes slowly giving way to something else—curiosity, maybe even a touch of daring.

“Alright,” he finally said, as if making a decision that surprised even himself. With a deep breath, he began to unbutton his shirt, methodically removing his clothes until he was down to a tshirt and briefs. His movements were careful, deliberate, as if he was still a bit unsure about this whole idea.

When he finally stepped into the water, a shiver ran through him as the cold enveloped his body. “It’s… colder than I expected,” he admitted, his voice a bit higher-pitched than usual.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, watching as he waded in deeper, adjusting to the temperature. “You’ll get used to it,” you assured him, still floating easily on the surface.

Spencer nodded, his movements tentative at first, but as he swam out to where you were, he began to relax. There was a certain lightness to the moment, a freedom that neither of you had felt in a long time. The water, the sun, the simple act of swimming—it was a welcome escape from the tension that had defined your interactions until now.

The two of you spent what felt like hours playing and splashing in the water, the cool waves washing away the tension that had been hanging between you. It was a rare, carefree moment where you both felt free and childlike, laughing without a care in the world. There were no pressures, no responsibilities—just the simple joy of being in the moment.

But as the sun climbed higher in the sky, signaling that it was time to come out, you noticed a shift in Spencer. He seemed hesitant, his earlier playfulness replaced with a familiar tension. He lingered in the water, avoiding your gaze, and you could sense his discomfort.

“Um, Y/N… can you turn around when I get out?” Spencer asked, his voice quiet, almost nervous.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, of course,” you replied, caught a little off guard by his request but willing to do whatever made him comfortable.

“And, um… maybe walk a bit away?” he added, his tone even more tentative.

“Uh huh, sure. Whatever you want,” you said gently, giving him a reassuring smile before turning away and moving up the bank. You grabbed your clothes and began walking a bit further from the water, giving him the privacy he clearly needed.

Spencer waited until you were a safe distance away and preoccupied with getting dressed before he quickly and quietly scrambled out of the water, pulling on his clothes as fast as he could. The vulnerability of being in nothing but water-tight briefs had brought back all his fears, the insecurities that had haunted him for years.

As you both started the walk back to the campsite, you couldn’t help but address the tension that still lingered. “Did you think I would make fun of you?” you asked, your voice soft, but tinged with concern.

Spencer shook his head slightly, though he didn’t look at you. “Oh, no, I don’t know,” he mumbled, clearly uncomfortable.

Your heart ached at his response. “I wouldn’t, for the record,” you said earnestly, hoping to reassure him.

There was a brief silence, heavy with unspoken emotions, before you felt compelled to share something of your own. “I grew up with a really mean sister,” you began, your voice carrying the weight of old wounds. “She would make fun of everyone for anything and everything, including me. It was a torturous way to grow up. I would never want to make anyone feel the way that she made me feel.”

Spencer suddenly stopped walking, his entire body tensing as if he’d hit an invisible wall. You turned to him, alarmed by the sudden change.

“Spencer? Are you okay?” you asked, worry lacing your voice.

He took a deep breath, his voice strained as he spoke. “It’s not you, it’s never been you,” he said, his words confusing you even more. “It was your sister.”

“What?” you whispered, the revelation hitting you like a cold gust of wind.

“Your sister was in my grade in high school,” Spencer explained, his voice trembling with the emotions he’d kept buried for so long.

“Oh…” was all you could manage, the pieces slowly clicking into place.

“She wasn’t nice,” Spencer continued, his voice thick with the memories. His eyes welled up with tears, and he blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. “She bullied me pretty relentlessly. Tied me up naked to a flagpole and took pictures.”

“Spencer… oh my God,” you breathed, horror and guilt crashing over you. You thought your heart had broken earlier, but now it felt shattered, the pieces scattered by the weight of his confession. “I don’t even know what to say. I am so, so sorry. No one ever deserves that. I can’t believe you went through that.”

Spencer nodded, the tears finally spilling over as he stood there, vulnerable in a way you had never seen before. The pain he had carried for so long, the fear that had driven a wedge between you, was now out in the open.

“Can I—can I hug you?” you offered, your voice gentle, filled with the empathy and care that had been building in your heart since Spencer’s revelation.

Spencer hesitated for only a moment before nodding, allowing you to pull him into an embrace. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, feeling the tension in his body gradually melt away as he leaned into the comfort you were offering.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmured softly against his shoulder. “I’m going to assume that you were afraid of me being like my sister, and that’s why you didn’t talk to me.”

Spencer nodded again, his silent confirmation making your heart ache even more for him. You could only imagine the fear and pain he must have felt, avoiding you because of a past that had nothing to do with who you truly were.

“I just want you to know, Spencer,” you continued, your voice steady but filled with emotion, “I would never do anything to hurt you in any way. I am nothing like her. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be the opposite of her. My family disowned her a long time ago.”

Spencer pulled back slightly then, just enough to look at you, his eyes still wet with tears. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that you hadn’t seen before, a deep, raw emotion that spoke volumes. “I believe you,” he whispered, his voice breaking but filled with sincerity.

Your own eyes stung with unshed tears, the weight of his belief in you meaning more than you could express. “I’m so sorry to have made you feel uncomfortable this whole time,” you said, your voice thick with regret. “I completely understand why you didn’t want to get too close to me.”

Spencer shook his head slightly, about to apologize, but you stopped him before he could. “No, never apologize for protecting yourself,” you insisted, your tone firm but kind. “We’ve solved it now, and that’s what matters. I hope we can be friends?”

There was a moment of silence as Spencer processed your words, and then, slowly, a small but genuine smile formed on his lips. “Of course,” he said softly, his voice filled with a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

You smiled back, feeling a sense of relief and hope wash over you. The wall between you and Spencer had finally come down, and in its place was the beginning of a real connection—one built on understanding, empathy, and the promise of a friendship that could grow from here.

“Thank you,” Spencer added quietly, his voice full of gratitude. And for the first time, you both felt like you were truly starting fresh, free from the shadows of the past.

—

You and Spencer made it back to Quantico with a sense of quiet relief, knowing that the rift between you had finally been addressed. When you reported back to the team, you both kept the details vague, simply letting them know that you had worked things out. Spencer was immensely grateful for your discretion, and you could see it in the small, appreciative smiles he sent your way. During the ride back, the two of you had chatted the entire time, the conversation flowing easily as if the weight of the past had finally been lifted.

The next day at work, you felt a new sense of ease around Spencer. The tension was gone, replaced by the beginnings of what felt like a genuine friendship. As you approached his desk, you felt a little flutter of nerves, but it was a good kind—like you were about to take a step forward into something new.

“Hey, Spencer…” you called softly as you reached his desk.

He looked up from his work, a smile spreading across his face when he saw you. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted warmly.

“Would you maybe want to come over this weekend? We could watch a movie or something?” you asked, hoping to continue building on the connection you’d started.

“Sure,” he grinned, clearly pleased by the invitation. “That sounds great.”

You returned his smile, feeling a little spark of excitement as you walked away. It felt good to know that things between you and Spencer were on a new path, one that was built on mutual understanding and trust.

Unbeknownst to you, Derek Morgan had been casually eavesdropping from a distance. As soon as you were out of earshot, he sneaked up on Spencer, a mischievous grin on his face. “You got yourself a date, Reid?” Derek teased, leaning on the desk with a playful glint in his eye.

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly, his cheeks flushing slightly. “What? No, we’re just hanging out,” he insisted, his voice flustered but firm.

“Mhm,” Derek hummed, not buying it for a second, his teasing grin only widening. “Sure, man, just hanging out.”

Spencer shot him a look, trying to maintain his composure, but the slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips gave him away. Despite Derek’s teasing, there was a sense of warmth and excitement bubbling up inside Spencer—because for the first time, “just hanging out” with someone felt like it could lead to something more, even if he wasn’t quite ready to admit it yet.

Derek chuckled and gave Spencer a friendly pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Spencer to ponder the possibilities that lay ahead, a small smile still lingering on his face.

—

Friday evening arrived faster than you and Spencer had expected. Both of you were feeling excitement and nervousness, eager for the evening ahead but also unsure of how it would unfold. You had spent the day tidying up and preparing your living room, making sure everything was just right for your night of movie watching and hanging out. You wanted Spencer to feel comfortable, and you hoped the cozy atmosphere you’d created would help set the tone for a relaxing evening.

When Spencer arrived at your place, he was immediately taken aback by the scene before him. Your living room was bathed in the soft glow of string lights, their warm hue giving the room a welcoming, almost magical quality. The sunset outside the window painted the sky in shades of pink and orange, adding to the serene ambiance. The couch was piled with soft blankets, and a few pillows were scattered around, inviting him to sit and get comfortable. On the coffee table, you had set out some snacks, drinks, and everything you might need for a night of watching movies.

As he stepped inside, Spencer couldn’t help but smile, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He had been half-expecting some sort of trick or prank, but instead, you had gone out of your way to make the evening as enjoyable as possible. It was clear that you genuinely wanted to spend time with him, and the effort you’d put into setting everything up didn’t go unnoticed.

“Wow,” Spencer said softly, his eyes taking in the cozy, well-thought-out setup. “This looks amazing.”

You smiled, pleased that he seemed to like it. “Thanks, I wanted to make sure we could just relax and have a good time,” you replied, motioning for him to come in and make himself comfortable. “No tricks, I promise.”

Spencer chuckled, the tension he’d been feeling all day melting away as he settled onto the couch. “I believe you,” he said, feeling more at ease than he had expected.

As you both sat down, the air was filled with a comfortable anticipation, the kind that comes with knowing you’re about to spend time with someone you genuinely enjoy being around. It was the start of what promised to be a wonderful evening, free from the worries of the past and full of the potential for a growing friendship.

After the first movie ended, the credits rolling across the screen, you and Spencer found yourselves lingering on the couch, the atmosphere between you light and airy, buoyed by the humor of the comedy you’d just watched. The laughter had done its job, breaking down any lingering tension, and now conversation flowed easily between you.

“So, what did you think of the movie?” you asked, turning to Spencer with a smile. You’d both been chuckling throughout, but you were curious to hear his thoughts now that it was over.

“It was great,” Spencer replied, a genuine grin on his face. “I don’t usually watch a lot of comedies, but that one was really funny. The timing, the dialogue… it was all really well done.” He seemed more relaxed than you’d ever seen him, his guard down as he leaned back into the couch.

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” you said, pleased that he had enjoyed it. “Sometimes you just need something light to unwind, you know?”

Spencer nodded in agreement. “Definitely. It’s nice to just… laugh, without thinking too much.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “I guess I don’t do that enough.”

You smiled softly at his admission, feeling a warmth in your chest at the idea that tonight was giving him something he didn’t often allow himself. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. We can do this more often if you want. Just hang out and relax.”

Spencer glanced over at you, his eyes softening. “I’d like that,” he said sincerely. “It’s nice to have someone to do this with.”

There was a comfortable silence between you for a moment, the kind that felt natural and unforced. You reached for the remote, ready to start another movie, but found yourself pausing, wanting to keep the conversation going a little longer.

“So, what’s one movie you think I should watch?” you asked, curious to hear his recommendation. “Something you really love.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up with excitement, the prospect of sharing one of his favorite films with you clearly appealing to him. “Oh, there are so many,” he said, his enthusiasm contagious. “But if I had to pick one… Have you ever seen *The Great Dictator* by Charlie Chaplin?”

You shook your head, intrigued by his choice. “No, I haven’t. Is it good?”

“It’s incredible,” Spencer said, his voice full of admiration. “It’s one of Chaplin’s best works—a satire that’s both funny and deeply poignant. It’s also one of the first films where he speaks, and the final speech… it’s just powerful.”

“Wow, sounds like a must-watch,” you said, genuinely interested. “We should definitely put that on our list for next time.”

“Absolutely,” Spencer agreed, smiling. “I think you’d really appreciate it.”

As the night wound down, the conversation between you and Spencer became more intimate, the two of you curled up on the couch, facing each other. The atmosphere was warm and comfortable, the barriers that had once stood between you now gone. The flickering glow of the TV cast soft shadows around the room, but your focus was entirely on each other, the outside world forgotten for the moment.

“So, Reid… are you seeing anyone?” you asked, your tone light but curious.

Spencer chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Hah, no, I’m not,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Are you?”

“I was,” you admitted, feeling a small flush rise to your cheeks. “But they were kind of flaky, not ready to commit.”

“That makes sense,” Spencer said, nodding thoughtfully. “Do you date a lot?”

You blushed a little deeper, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “Not a lot,” you confessed. “I prefer to wait for a genuine connection.”

“Me too,” Spencer agreed, his voice soft, as if he were relieved to find that you shared the same sentiment.

“Have you dated recently?” you asked, your curiosity piqued. Spencer had always seemed so private, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone special in his life.

“Not really,” he said, a small, almost sad smile crossing his face. “I… am kind of wary of dating.”

“Can I ask why? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you said gently, not wanting to push him but also wanting to understand more about him.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing whether or not to share. “Um… well, in school, girls would ask me on dates, and when I showed up, they’d make fun of me and take pictures,” he finally admitted, his voice quiet, the pain from those memories still lingering.

“Like my sister?” you asked softly, already suspecting the answer.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his eyes flickering with the old hurt. “That’s how she… yeah.”

“Oh, Spencer…” you breathed, your heart breaking for him all over again. You reached out instinctively, wanting to offer comfort, but you held back, respecting his space.

“Let’s not talk about it,” he said, his voice firmer this time, as if he needed to move past the subject for his own peace of mind.

“Of course,” you agreed immediately, not wanting to cause him any more pain.

There was a brief silence, one that felt heavy with unspoken words, but before you could change the topic, Spencer spoke again, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “You’re prettier than her, you know.”

“What’s that?” you asked, not sure you had heard him correctly.

“Your sister,” Spencer clarified, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. “You’re prettier. And nicer, but that’s a given.”

You felt your cheeks flush deeply, not just from his words, but from the way he said them—with such earnestness, as if he’d been holding onto that thought for a while. The compliment caught you off guard, and you weren’t quite sure how to respond.

“Thank you,” you finally managed, your voice soft, touched by his words more than you could express. “That really means a lot. She… did not think so.”

Spencer’s expression softened even further, a mix of empathy and determination in his eyes. “I hope you know that you are,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm, as if he needed you to believe it as much as he did.

“Thank you, Spencer,” you replied, a warm smile spreading across your face. “You’re really pretty too.”

Spencer blinked in surprise, his cheeks tinging pink at the unexpected compliment. “Really?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief and curiosity.

“Mhm,” you nodded, your smile widening. “I’ve always thought so.”

The sincerity in your voice seemed to catch Spencer off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t often that he received compliments like this—especially not from someone he was beginning to care about as much as he cared about you. He felt a warmth spread through him, a sense of validation that he hadn’t realized he needed.

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice almost a whisper, but the smile that touched his lips was genuine and full of a newfound confidence. There was something deeply reassuring about your words, something that made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t felt before.

As the evening continued, the bond between you only deepened, both of you more relaxed and open with each other than you had been before. The compliments exchanged were just the beginning—a sign that what was growing between you was more than just a simple friendship. It was a connection built on mutual respect, admiration, and a shared understanding of each other’s pasts and insecurities.

—

“How was your date, pretty boy?” Derek teased, his voice carrying across the bullpen as he leaned against Spencer's desk with a wide grin.

“It wasn’t a date,” Spencer mumbled, his eyes firmly fixed on the stack of papers in front of him. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and he desperately wished Derek would drop the subject.

“Reid had a date?” Rossi’s voice chimed in as he walked by, a look of amused surprise on his face.

“Yep! Friday night,” Derek laughed, clearly enjoying Spencer’s discomfort.

“Would you guys keep it down? I did not have a date,” Spencer hissed, his voice low and urgent as he glanced nervously toward the entrance. The last thing he wanted was for you to walk in and overhear them. The thought of you getting the wrong idea—or worse, feeling awkward about the night—made his stomach twist.

“Aw, come on, Reid,” Derek continued, not ready to let it go just yet. “You’re telling me you spent a whole evening at Y/N’s place, all cozy on the couch, and that wasn’t a date?”

Spencer sighed, his frustration mounting as he tried to formulate a response that would shut down the teasing. “We were just hanging out,” he insisted, though he couldn’t deny the warmth that crept into his voice at the memory of the evening. “We’re friends. That’s all.”

Derek exchanged a knowing look with Rossi, both of them clearly unconvinced but willing to let it slide—for now, at least. “Alright, alright,” Derek said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “If you say so, pretty boy.”

Rossi chuckled, giving Spencer a reassuring pat on the back. “Whatever it was, it’s good to see you two getting along,” he said, his tone more serious now.

Spencer nodded, grateful for the subtle shift in the conversation. “Thanks, Rossi,” he replied quietly, hoping the conversation was finally over.

Just as the tension began to ease, you walked through the door, a bright smile on your face as you entered the bullpen. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly looked down at his work, praying that the others wouldn’t say anything more.

“Morning, everyone,” you greeted cheerfully, oblivious to the earlier exchange.

“Morning, Y/N,” Derek and Rossi replied in unison, their voices notably more innocent than they had been moments before.

Spencer dared a quick glance up at you, relieved to see that you hadn’t picked up on the previous teasing. “Morning,” he mumbled, trying to focus on the files in front of him.

You gave him a warm smile, your eyes meeting his for a brief moment, and he felt a sense of relief wash over him. Whatever Derek and Rossi thought, you knew the truth—and that was all that mattered.

—

“Hey, Y/N,” Alex greeted you with a warm smile as she approached your desk.

“Hey, Alex,” you replied, returning the smile. “How was your weekend?”

“It was relaxing, thanks for asking,” Alex said, her tone light and casual. “How about you? What’s up?”

Before you could answer, Alex’s eyes sparkled with a bit of mischief as she continued, “I heard you had a date this weekend.”

You blinked in surprise, momentarily thrown off by the comment. “Uh, nope. Just hung out with Reid and went to the farmers market,” you clarified, wondering where she had gotten the idea that it was anything more.

Alex raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the teasing. “It wasn’t a date with Reid?”

“No? Did he say it was?” you asked, genuinely curious now. Had Spencer mentioned something to someone that made them think it was a date?

Realizing she might have stirred something up unintentionally, Alex quickly backtracked. “I think I might have misspoke, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any confusion,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you later, honey.”

“Bye, Alex,” you replied, still a bit puzzled by the exchange. As she walked away, you couldn’t help but replay the conversation in your head, wondering how such a simple evening of hanging out with Spencer had turned into a rumor about a date.

Shaking your head, you decided not to dwell on it too much. You knew the truth of the situation, and that was enough. Still, the idea of others seeing you and Spencer as something more than friends lingered in your mind, leaving you with curiosity and uncertainty as you returned to your work.

—

“Reid! You had a date with Y/N and didn’t think to tell me?? I thought we were close!” Penelope’s voice whined from across the breakroom, her tone a mix of hurt and playful exaggeration.

Spencer nearly choked on his coffee, his eyes widening in surprise as he turned to face her. “I did not have a date with Y/N!” he insisted, exasperation clear in his voice. “Did Derek tell you that? I swear, the gossip in this office travels at the speed of light.”

Penelope shook her head, her brightly colored glasses slipping slightly down her nose. “Oh, no, I heard it from JJ.”

“JJ?” Spencer repeated, even more bewildered. “I never told JJ anything about a date because there wasn’t a date!”

Penelope tilted her head, a curious look on her face. “Maybe Y/N did…”

Spencer sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck as he processed the situation. “No, Y/N wouldn’t have said it was a date because it wasn’t,” he reiterated, feeling like the whole thing was spiraling out of control.

Penelope’s expression softened as she realized how flustered Spencer was. “Okay, okay, calm down, boy genius,” she said gently, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s just a bit of harmless teasing. But, honestly, with how everyone’s talking, it does kind of sound like a date, you know?”

Spencer groaned inwardly, knowing that trying to convince everyone otherwise was starting to feel like a losing battle. “It was just a casual hangout,” he emphasized, though even he could hear how unconvincing it sounded at this point.

Penelope studied him for a moment, her gaze more thoughtful now. “Okay, I believe you,” she finally said with a small smile. “But just so you know, if it ever turns into more than just a hangout… you can always come to me for advice.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he offered her a shy smile in return. “Thanks, Penelope. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, Penelope gave him a quick hug before heading out of the breakroom, leaving Spencer standing there, still a little dazed by how quickly the rumor mill had turned a simple evening into a full-blown office saga. But as he finished his coffee, he couldn’t help but wonder—if so many people were seeing it as more than just a hangout, was there something there he hadn’t fully acknowledged yet?

—

You were focused on making copies in the copier room when you heard the door creak open behind you. Turning around, you were pleasantly surprised to see Spencer standing there.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a warm smile, happy to see him.

“Hi…” he replied, but his tone was hesitant, his usual shyness creeping back in.

Your smile faltered slightly. “Oh no, I thought we were past the cold shoulder,” you teased lightly, hoping to ease whatever tension he might be feeling.

Spencer’s expression softened, and he quickly shook his head. “Sorry, we are,” he assured you, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

Before you could say anything else, the door swung open again, and JJ walked in, a playful grin on her face. “Hey, love birds,” she teased, clearly unaware of the moment she was interrupting.

Startled, you jumped, your hand slipping and slamming down on the copier lid. “Ow!” you yelped, pain shooting through your fingers as you quickly pulled your hand back.

JJ’s face immediately filled with concern as she rushed over. “Oh shoot, Y/N, I didn’t mean to scare you!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with guilt.

Spencer was at your side in an instant, his worry evident in his eyes. “Y/N! Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern as he reached for your injured hand.

You winced, flexing your fingers slightly to test them. “No, I crushed my hand really hard,” you admitted, the throbbing pain making it difficult to think about anything else.

“Let’s go get you some ice,” Spencer said quickly, his hand gently guiding you toward the door.

JJ nodded, clearly feeling bad about what had happened. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity as she followed you both out of the room.

“It’s okay,” you reassured her, though the pain in your hand made it hard to keep the smile on your face. “It was just an accident.”

Spencer didn’t waste any time as he led you down the hall, his worry for you clear in his every movement. Once you reached the breakroom, he quickly grabbed a small bag of ice from the freezer, wrapping it in a towel before gently pressing it against your injured hand.

“Here,” he said softly, his voice full of concern as he held the ice in place. “This should help.”

You nodded gratefully, touched by how attentive he was being. “Thanks, Spencer,” you murmured, the pain starting to dull under the cool pressure of the ice.

In that moment, as Spencer held the ice gently against your hand, you looked up at him and couldn’t help but smile. The concern in his eyes, the tenderness in his touch—it was all so sweet, so genuine. For a second, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of shared warmth. Anyone looking at you both in that moment would have seen it—the soft, unspoken affection that had been quietly growing between you.

Just then, the door to the breakroom swung open, and Aaron Hotchner walked in, his gaze immediately landing on the two of you. He stopped short, raising an eyebrow as he took in the scene. “Whoa, am I interrupting something?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his usually serious tone.

You and Spencer both snapped out of your little world, glancing at each other with wide eyes before quickly looking away, your faces flushing with embarrassment.

“No, uh, Y/N just hurt her hand,” Spencer stammered, his voice a little higher than usual as he struggled to explain. “I was just helping her with some ice.”

Aaron’s lips quirked into a small smile, clearly not entirely convinced by the rushed explanation. “I see,” he said, his tone even but with that subtle hint of amusement. “Well, it’s good to see you’re taking care of each other.”

You nodded, still blushing, but managed to muster a smile. “Thanks, Hotch. It’s nothing serious, just a little bump.”

“Glad to hear it,” Aaron replied, giving you both a knowing look before heading to the coffee machine. He didn’t say anything more, but the slight smirk on his face as he poured his coffee said plenty.

As he left the room, the silence between you and Spencer felt charged, the air thick with the unspoken feelings that neither of you were quite ready to fully acknowledge. But despite the awkwardness, there was also a warmth—an understanding that something was shifting between you, something neither of you could deny.

Finally, Spencer broke the silence, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “You should keep the ice on for a while,” he said, still holding the towel-wrapped bag against your hand.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice just as quiet, but your heart was still racing from the earlier moment. “Thanks, Spencer. I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, his eyes meeting yours for just a second before flicking away again. “Anytime,” he murmured, and despite the awkwardness, there was a small, genuine smile on his lips that made your heart flutter just a little more.

—

By the end of the week, the teasing from the team had mostly died down. The playful comments and knowing looks had given way to the usual routines of work, and everyone seemed to move on from the idea that you and Spencer were more than just friends. But despite the outward calm, Spencer couldn’t shake the thoughts that lingered in his mind.

All week, he found himself replaying the moments you had shared—the movie night, the quiet conversations, the way you had looked at him when he held the ice against your hand. It wasn’t just the teasing that had gotten under his skin; it was the way it made him question things he hadn’t fully considered before.

Spencer wasn’t someone who easily delved into matters of the heart. His mind was so often occupied with facts, statistics, and the complexities of human behavior that his own emotions sometimes felt like an unsolvable puzzle. But now, those emotions were harder to ignore. He kept thinking about the way your smile made his heart beat a little faster, or how he found comfort in your presence in a way that was different from anyone else.

He was still trying to wrap his head around what it all meant. Was it just friendship, or was there something more? And if there was more, what did that mean for both of you? Spencer wasn’t sure he had the answers, but he knew he couldn’t just brush it off as easily as he once might have.

As the week came to a close, he found himself wanting to talk to you more, to spend time with you, to explore whatever this was between you both. The thought of asking you out—actually asking you out—crossed his mind more than once, but every time he considered it, a wave of nerves would hit him, and he’d retreat back into his thoughts.

By Friday afternoon, he was still thinking about it as he sat at his desk, his work in front of him but his mind far from focused on the task at hand. The uncertainty gnawed at him, but there was also a flicker of excitement there, a small hope that maybe, just maybe, this could turn into something real.

—

As the workday came to an end, people began to gather around the elevators, eager to start their weekends. Spencer had been keeping an eye out for you, hoping to catch you before you left. He wanted to ask if you’d like to hang out again this weekend, the thought of spending more time with you making him feel both nervous and excited.

But just as he was about to approach you, another agent, Brant Ledgers, beat him to it. Spencer slowed his pace, watching the exchange from a distance, his heart sinking as Brant tried to turn on the charm.

“Hey, Agent,” Brant said, his voice smooth, leaning in a little too close for comfort.

“Um, hello,” you replied, taken aback by his sudden approach.

“You look beautiful today, and I couldn’t help but notice you smell divine. Did you intentionally pick my favorite scent?” Brant continued, his tone dripping with arrogance.

“What?” you asked, clearly uncomfortable with the way he was speaking to you.

Before the situation could escalate, the elevator arrived, and Spencer, feeling a pang of anxiety at the possibility of hearing you agree to another man’s advances, quickly stepped inside, not wanting to witness it.

But just as the doors were closing, he overheard Brant’s next move. “What do you say, baby? You and me, this weekend?” Brant asked, his tone filled with unwelcome confidence.

“Oh, um, no thank you. I appreciate the offer,” you replied, trying to be polite despite your discomfort.

“Why not?” Brant pressed, his voice taking on a sharper edge.

“I don’t have to give you a reason,” you said firmly, attempting to walk away.

But as you turned to leave, Brant grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “Uh, yeah, you do,” he said, his grip tight and his tone menacing.

Just then, Derek Morgan, who had been nearby, stepped out of the bullpen and saw what was happening. “Whoa, what’s going on?” Derek’s voice boomed, his protective instincts kicking in immediately.

“We’re having a conversation, butt out,” Brant snapped, clearly irritated by Derek’s interference.

“Y/N, you good?” Derek asked, ignoring Brant entirely as he focused on you.

You shook your head, the fear and discomfort evident in your eyes.

“Let her go, Ledgers,” Derek commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Brant hesitated for a moment, clearly not wanting to back down, but the look in Derek’s eyes told him this wasn’t a fight he was going to win. With a huff, Brant released your arm, glaring at Derek as he stepped back.

“You’re making a big mistake,” Brant muttered under his breath as he turned and walked away, but Derek paid him no mind.

As soon as Brant was gone, Derek turned to you, concern etched on his face. “You okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded, though your hand instinctively rubbed the spot on your arm where Brant had grabbed you. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks, Derek.”

“Anytime,” Derek said, his tone softening as he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You need anything, you let me know, alright?”

“Will do,” you replied, giving him a grateful smile.

Derek walked with you toward the elevator, determined to make sure you got to your car safely. The incident with Ledgers had shaken you more than you wanted to admit, but having Derek by your side brought a sense of security.

When you reached the garage, you spotted Spencer standing near Derek’s car, clearly waiting for his ride home. His eyes lit up with concern the moment he saw you, and as Derek explained the situation, his expression shifted from concern to anger.

“Hey, Reid, I’m going to walk Y/N to her car, then I’ll be back, okay?” Derek said, his tone firm as he made sure Spencer understood the seriousness of the situation.

“Oh, sure, what’s going on?” Spencer asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Ledgers tried to grab at her. I want to make sure she gets out of here safe and sound,” Derek explained, his voice laced with protective determination.

“What?” Spencer’s voice boomed, the anger evident as he looked around, clearly ready to confront Ledgers himself. “Where is he?”

You quickly placed a hand on Spencer’s arm, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay, Spencer. Derek stepped in before he got too far.”

Spencer’s gaze softened as he looked at you, the concern in his eyes clear. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentler now, but still full of worry.

“Yeah,” you nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to determine if you were really alright. “Do you want me to come over tonight? Keep you company?” he offered, his voice sincere and filled with a desire to help.

Your heart warmed at his offer, and you nodded, grateful for his support. “Thank you, Spencer, that sounds really nice. Do you just want to ride with me?” you asked, knowing it would be easier for both of you to go together.

“Yeah, I do,” Spencer replied without hesitation, clearly wanting to be there for you in any way he could.

Derek, who had been watching the exchange with a knowing smirk, couldn’t resist a little teasing. “Have fun on your second date, lovebirds,” he quipped, the smirk growing wider as he saw the blush rise on both your cheeks.

Spencer gave Derek a half-hearted glare, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. “It’s not a date,” he mumbled, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Derek just chuckled, patting Spencer on the back. “Whatever you say, pretty boy. Just take care of her.”

With that, Spencer stayed close by your side, the silent protector you hadn’t known you needed until now. As you both got into your car, the earlier tension faded away, replaced by the comforting knowledge that, no matter what, you had each other’s backs.

—

As you and Spencer sat across from each other at your dining table, enjoying the simple comfort of dinner together, Spencer’s thoughts kept circling back to what had happened earlier. The guilt gnawed at him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have done something—anything—to protect you from Ledgers. He had been so close, yet he had let the situation unfold without intervening.

Finally, he couldn’t keep it in any longer. Setting his fork down, he looked at you with a seriousness that made you pause. “Y/N, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help,” he said, his voice laced with regret.

You looked up from your plate, surprised by the sudden apology. “What? Oh, Spencer, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

He shook his head, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “I should have waited for you,” he insisted, his guilt deepening. The thought of you being in a situation like that without him there to support you weighed heavily on his mind.

“You’re not required to wait for me,” you replied softly, trying to ease his worries. “It’s okay, really.”

Spencer hesitated, his eyes dropping to his plate as he wrestled with what he wanted to say next. He knew he had to be honest, even if it made him vulnerable. Taking a deep breath, he decided to take the plunge. “No, I know. I just…” He paused, gathering his courage before continuing. “I heard him asking you out, and I guess I didn’t want to stick around to hear you say yes.”

Your breath caught slightly at his admission, the pieces falling into place. It wasn’t just guilt driving Spencer’s apology—it was something deeper, something more personal. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the way he was trying to gauge your reaction.

“Spencer,” you began gently, reaching across the table to take his hand, “I would never have said yes to him. I’m not interested in Brant, and I’m certainly not interested in anyone who would treat me like that.”

He looked up at you then, the worry in his eyes softening as your words sank in. “I know, I just… I didn’t want to hear it, you know?” he admitted, his voice quiet but honest.

You squeezed his hand, offering him a reassuring smile. “I understand,” you said softly. “But I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about that. I can take care of myself.”

Spencer felt a pang of frustration as he realized his initial explanation hadn’t fully conveyed what he meant. He took a deep breath, deciding it was time to be as clear as possible, even if it made him nervous. “I know that, Y/N,” he began, his voice steady but filled with a new kind of vulnerability. “You’re more than capable of handling yourself—that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?” you replied, your curiosity piqued. “What did you mean?”

Spencer hesitated for a brief moment, but then the words came out in a rush, fueled by the need to be honest with you. “I don’t want you to go out with someone else.”

You blinked, the weight of his words sinking in. “Someone else?”

“I want you to go out with me,” Spencer said, the vulnerability in his eyes now unmistakable. He had put everything out on the table, his feelings laid bare for you to see.

The realization hit you, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Oh,” you managed, your voice soft as you absorbed what he was saying.

There was a moment of silence, and you could see the anxiety flickering in Spencer’s eyes as he waited for your response. His whole posture was tense, as if he was bracing himself for whatever came next.

“Do you… want that too?” Spencer asked, his voice quieter now, but filled with hope.

You bit your lip, feeling a smile spread across your face as your heart swelled with warmth. “I do,” you replied, the sincerity in your voice clear. The smile on your face widened as you saw the relief and joy that washed over Spencer’s features.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the atmosphere between you thick with unspoken feelings and the excitement of what was to come. Then, Spencer’s lips curled into a shy, genuine smile that mirrored your own.

“So, when should we have our third date?” Spencer asked, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

You laughed, delighted by this lighter, more confident side of him. “Hmm. Tomorrow?” you suggested, your heart fluttering at the thought of spending more time with him.

“Sounds perfect,” Spencer agreed, his smile widening.

“Spencer?” you asked softly, your tone turning more serious as you looked into his eyes.

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice gentle but filled with anticipation.

“Can I kiss you before our third date?” you asked, your heart pounding as the words left your lips.

Spencer’s smile turned even softer, his eyes lighting up with warmth and affection. “I’d be offended if you didn’t,” he replied, his voice a tender mix of humor and sincerity.

With that, you leaned in, closing the small distance between you. Spencer met you halfway, his eyes fluttering shut as your lips touched in a soft, sweet kiss. It was gentle at first, both of you savoring the moment, the culmination of everything that had been building between you.

When you finally pulled back, your faces still close, you both wore matching smiles, the connection between you now unmistakable and full of promise.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite

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deebris · 3 months ago

Text

Weight of Care

Simon Riley x little sister Reader (platonic!)

Synopsis: Simon, your older brother, has been your guardian since you were a baby. Amid the collapse of your family, he made the courageous choice to take you out of the house, raising you as if you were his own. However, despite being happy, your relationship is complicated. While you see Simon as a paternal figure, he struggles with the pain of being mistaken for one. His heart tightens every time you call him "daddy," and he thought you had managed to move past that—until you do it again one night.

Warnings: Just a little angst with a happy ending; reader is 6 years old.

Word count: 1.2k

“Did you brush your teeth?” Simon asked upon hearing your muffled laughter. He opened the bedroom door, its walls now marked by your numerous drawings. Toys scattered across the floor shifted as he entered, and with the first step he took inside, something cracked underfoot, breaking.

“How many times have I told you that you need to put your toys away after playing?” he said firmly, shooting you a stern look. Simon hated messiness, but with you around, it seemed impossible to keep everything in order.

“I was going to put them away,” you murmured, embarrassed by the scolding. But your guilty expression quickly turned into a tearful grimace as your eyes fell your sheep, now shattered on the floor. “You broke it!” Your childish scream echoed through the room, and you hurried to gather the pieces with trembling hands.

“If you had put it away, this wouldn’t have happened,” he accused you, hoping it would serve as a lesson. Maybe then you would finally start to be more responsible with your things. And even knowing he was right, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at seeing your broken sheep.

Watching you wipe your tears with the sleeve of the pajamas and hearing sniffles made his heart soften. It was frustrating how he simply couldn’t stay mad at you. The last thing Simon wanted was for you to become a spoiled child, but in that moment, it was hard to maintain his sternness.

He already felt guilty for not being able to take care of you completely due to work, and knowing that Mrs. Trelawney, your babysitter, was much more lenient than he was only made everything harder. Every time Simon came home, you seemed more stubborn and whiny.

“Come on, it’s time to sleep.” He lifted you by your armpits and placed you in bed, pulling up the yellow blanket that you loved so much. You had already taken a bath and were wearing clean lilac pajamas covered with stars. “I’ll buy you another one, you don’t need to cry.”

“But it’s not the same,” you murmured as he collected the toy pieces from your hand, placing them on the dresser to throw away tomorrow. Some parts were sharp, so he checked your delicate hands, worried about possible cuts.

“It’s the same,” he insisted, sighing tiredly as he tucked your feet under the blanket. Surprisingly, you didn’t argue, remaining strangely silent. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry,” you whispered, feeling bad for upsetting him. “I promise I’ll put it away.”

Your promise made him cast a quick glance at the bedroom floor, where pink, blue, and all other colored toys were scattered. Even your dolls were out of place, thrown in various corners. He still felt frustrated because you always said you would tidy up and never did, but this time it seemed different, so he decided to put a bit of faith in your word.

“Tomorrow. Now you need to sleep.” He stood up to leave, but suddenly remembered something:

“Teeth.” Simon said, and you blew near his face, letting him feel the freshness of mint on your breath. “Show me your tongue.” He spoke in a suspicious tone, knowing that you sometimes didn’t clean your mouth well. “Good.” He praised, satisfied to see you sticking your tongue out, then making a face, which made him laugh inside.

He turned off the bedside lamp, watching you settle into the pillow, and began to move toward the door. But hearing your naive voice, he stopped in his tracks, his heart tightening:

“Daddy, can I go to the museum with my class tomorrow?”

“What?” Simon asked, stunned, still turned away from you, his hand frozen on the doorknob. Surprise echoed in his voice, mixed with a thread of worry. He slowly turned around, trying to decipher the expectation in your gaze.

It had been so long since you last called him that. Simon thought he had finally managed to correct you after so many attempts, but he realized that wasn’t working. He had lost count of how many times he repeated that he was just your older brother, but deep down, he knew he was guilty. In trying to erase any trace of your father in your life, he had created a space where that confusion was natural. It was understandable that you saw him this way.

“Miss Sarah is taking us to the museum tomorrow. Can I go?” You repeated the question, oblivious to the tension in his shoulders.

“Why didn’t you ask earlier?” Simon swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure.

“I forgot,” you explained, sitting up in bed to grab a piece of paper from your backpack. It was a permission slip for guardians to sign, allowing the trip. “Please?” You pouted, holding the paper in one hand and one of your decorated pencils in the other, as if that could increase your chances.

“To the museum?” He asked, his voice tinged with melancholy. Simon sat on the edge of the bed, already starting to sign his name on the line, but his mind wandered to a distant place, filled with his conflicting memories and feelings.

The situation between you two was complicated. You were the only family Simon had left, a little girl. He still remembers when he found out that his mother was pregnant and, even more, the first time he saw you. He had been away from home for several years, and coming back always felt torturous. But the idea of having something so small and innocent waiting for him was what truly saved him.

Simon took you from home long before your parents died, unable to bear the thought of you growing up in that environment. After his brother died, he projected all the fears and regrets an older brother could carry onto you. It was as if you were his only way to redeem himself for Tommy. You were so young that you barely remembered the rest of the family; for you, the world revolved around Simon.

He didn’t even realize he was wandering until he felt you gently pull the paper from his hands. Your big eyes locked onto his for a moment, filled with concern, until you broke eye contact, standing to put the paper away and lie back down, pulling the blanket over yourself.

“Are you okay?” You asked, noticing he was still standing there, lost in thought. The nervousness in your voice snapped Simon back to reality, bringing him to the stillness of the room, where silence hung between you.

Simon thought of several things to say, like, “You know I’m your brother, right?” or “We’ve talked about this,” but it felt like a never-ending cycle. It was as if nothing could stop you from continuing to call him that. He didn’t understand why it bothered him so much. He knew that, in practice, he played the role of a father in your life, something he chose for himself. Even so, every time he heard, a strange sensation coursed through his body.

“Good night.” He simply said in his deep, familiar voice, but now, something different was in the air. For the first time, he didn’t try to correct or resist, finally allowing himself to accept the way you called him ‘daddy.’

You hesitated for a moment, sensing something strange about him before responding softly: “Good night, Si.” And a faint smile formed on his lips, something rare, as if, at last, something had clicked into place.

Taglist: @aenishas

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smileysuh · 10 months ago

Text

heart aches

🌙 starring. Jeong Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure. You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows. “Don’t leave me again,” you whisper. “Never again,” he promises.

tw/cw. foreplay, fingering, mutual masturbation, hand job hand fucking, spitting, finger sucking, inklings of oral fixation, praise, dirty talk, pining, reminiscing, breast worship, teasing, Jae being a simp, unprotected sex, handholding while fucking, Jae is pretty vanilla but pent up as hell, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5.3k

🍭 aus. ex's to lovers, non idol au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I don't normally do angst, but Idk, this felt right for some reason this month

Prologue:

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, watching you fiddle around the bedroom while he cuddles with your cat on the bed.

Part of you wants to push back your feelings - you’d kind of been hoping to talk to him at the airport in the morning - but you should have known Jaehyun would realize something is up with you. It’s been a nice long weekend having him home with you.

It’s almost been like he never left.

Almost.

With a deep sigh, you go to sit on the foot of your mattress, staring down at your hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” you say quietly.

The room feels achingly silent, and then the comforter ruffles as Jaehyun sits up. “This?” he asks.

“Us.” The word hurts to even say. “The distance… I mean, I knew continuing our relationship while you’re in a different city at a new university doing your graduate program would be rough… but… I just didn’t know I’d ever feel this lonely.”

Tears are welling in your eyes. You don’t want to break up with Jaehyun- he’s had your heart for four years. Starting over with someone new sounds impossible- but at the same time, being away from him hurts more than you could ever have imagined. It hurts when he calls you every night, being the perfect boyfriend, smiling and telling you about his day. It hurts because you thought you’d go through life together- you thought you’d be there to see it all yourself, not hear about it after the fact on the phone.

“Come here,” Jaehyun says softly, moving your cat off his lap so he can open his arms to you.

You allow Jaehyun to pull you into an embrace, his fingers stroking your hair. His heart is thundering in his ribcage, and you can hear it as you cuddle closer.

“I’m sorry that it came to this,” he breathes, “but I understand.”

You can’t help the tears now, and a choked sob escapes you. You grab at the front of his soft hoodie, wanting to crush the emblem of his new school. Part of you wishes he’d never been accepted into the elite business graduate program, but another part knows that Jaehyun deserves to be where he is now.

You love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and that’s what makes this so painful.

Jaehyun needs to focus on his studies, to build a new life for himself across the country- and you need to do the same. You can’t be a ghost anymore, walking through life like a zombie and waiting to hear from him, constantly checking the time zone differences and calculating what he’s doing based on schedules.

“I can still…” you rub at your eyes, swallowing thickly, “I’ll take you to the airport in the morning-”

“It’s okay, baby,” Jaehyun shushes you gently, kissing the crown of your head. “I can get a cab.”

“Are you angry at me?” you ask, pulling away from his chest to look up at his face, worried about what you might find there.

“Of course not,” Jaehyun assures you, immediately stroking a thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears. “No matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, I knew things had changed when I moved away. I could see that the distance was a problem. You have needs, and I’m proud of you for voicing them, even if it hurts.”

“My heart is breaking,” you whimper.

Jaehyun frowns. “Mine too.”

“You’re really not mad at me?”

“I could never be mad at you,” Jaehyun promises. “I think it will be easier to talk about this with time, if that’s something you’d be interested in. But for now, how do you feel about just laying down, holding each other, and doing our best to enjoy tonight- if it’s going to be our last.”

It might be easier if he was mad at you, if he yelled and swore and tried to make you change your mind- but Jaehyun’s never been an abusive type. Instead, he holds you close, and as you softly cry on his chest, you begin to drift off to sleep.

One

Even in a crowded bar, one distant laugh makes your blood run cold. You grip your drink, heart thundering in your rib cage as you scan your surrounding area.

It’s been two years since you broke up with Jaehyun. Even so, you’d recognize his voice anywhere.

“You good?” your best friend asks, reading your change in expression.

“Yeah, I just thought I heard-” as you’re about to say his name, you spot Jaehyun. He’s leaning against the bar top, chatting with a man whose back is to you.

God, he still looks so good.

Your chest aches, throat going dry. As you watch him, his eyes move to take in the bar. You’re quick to shift your gaze, lifting your drink to your lips to down the rest of it.

“I need to get out of here,” you mutter.

“What? Why?” Your friend reaches for your arm, pulling you closer to check in on you.

“My ex is here.”

“Which one?”

“Which one do you think?” You let out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Listen, have fun, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You hand her your empty glass, giving her one last look before you turn to head to the entrance of the bar.

You can feel eyes on you as you push through the crowd, but you chalk it up to being paranoid. You slip through the front doors, intent on hailing a taxi. As you make it to the cement sidewalk, you hear your name behind you, and that familiar voice has your blood running cold for a second time tonight.

“Y/N?”

Your whole body freezes, and for a moment, you truly consider running. But you’ve already run from Jaehyun once before, and you don’t have it in yourself to do it again.

With a deep breath, you turn to face your ex, your first love, the man you’ve never recovered from.

“I thought that was you,” Jaehyun mutters quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stares at you.

You don’t even know what to say, so you keep your mouth shut, taking in his pretty face and the broad set of his shoulders.

“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have followed you,” he admits finally. “It doesn’t look like you want to talk.”

Jaehyun turns to head back inside, and your body reacts on its own accord; you grab at his arm, and it makes him stop. He looks down at your hand, wrapped around his forearm, then up at you.

“We…” you swallow thickly, “we can talk. I just… I don’t know what to say.”

“That makes two of us.”

You drop your hand from his arm when you realize he’s not going anywhere.

“I uh…” Jaehyun clears his throat. “I got back to town a month ago. Meant to message you- but I didn’t know what to say then either.”

“You completed your program?”

“Yup. With flying colors.”

“I guess I always expected you to be a big shot and move to some other city- what are you doing back here?”

“Unfinished business… maybe.” Jaehyun dips his head, looking down at the ground. You watch him absentmindedly kick at an old cigarette butt.

He can’t be talking about you… can he?

“Anyways,” Jaehyun meets your eyes again, “how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been…” you search for the right word, “okay.”

“Yeah? Happy?”

“Sort of. You?”

Jaehyun shrugs, offering you a lopsided smile that makes your heart ache. “Sort of. It was two years of studying. Didn’t have much time for extracurriculars, as you know.”

So your breakup is still a sore spot for him, you can sense it in his words. He’s not outwardly saying it, but… it’s there all the same. There’s something of an apology in his statement, because you do know how hard it was for him to find time for things outside of school- it had been the main reason you’d had to call things off with him.

“How about you?” he presses. “Any uh… any protective boyfriend who’s about to show up and beat my ass?”

You can’t believe he’s asking you outright about this, and the question actually makes you let out a small laugh. You shake your head. “No. No boyfriend.”

“Good. I mean… I hoped you were happy, but uh, you know, it’s nice to hear that, well, you know what I mean.” Jaehyun looks down again, and you can see his ears turning red.

It’s as clear as day that Jaehyun still cares about you. The way he’s acting tells you everything you need to know… well, almost everything.

“So…” you wrap your arms around yourself, “are you planning on leaving again? Do you know how long you’ll be in town?”

“Nothing is set in stone,” Jaehyun admits, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you. “Listen, I’m just going to say it.” He takes a deep breath, meanwhile, you can’t even breathe. “I never got over you. I mean, how could I? You’re everything, and- I understand why we broke up, I really do. But my program is over now, and if you give me another chance, I promise not to go anywhere ever again, at least, not without you right there by my side.”

“Jaehyun-”

“If you need some time to think about it, I totally get that-”

Jaehyun goes to take a step back, and you find yourself grabbing at him once more. Your body simply can’t let him go- not now, not ever again.

Your ex looks down at your hand on his forearm, and as you open your mouth to give him your response, no words come to mind. Your gaze dips to his lips, and before you know what you’re even doing, you’re moving in to kiss him.

Jaehyun is frozen in place at the initial meeting of your lips, but after a moment, you feel his body relax. His hands gently slip to your waist, tugging you closer as he slants his mouth against your own. You feel him release a small groan, and a whimper bubbles in your chest.

How many times have you dreamt of this moment? How many times have you thought about kissing Jaehyun?

Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of him-

Someone lets out a whistle, and you roughly pull back from Jaehyun, your eyes finding the two bouncers outside the bar, who are staring at you with wolfish grins.

“Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” Jaehyun asks, resting his forehead against your own.

“Come home with me.”

Two

It feels like deja vu to be walking into your apartment with Jaehyun. You’ve had the same unit for years- and you know it must feel even weirder for your ex to be here again after practically living here with you for half of your time in university together.

As you toss your keys onto the entryway table, you hear a familiar meow. Your cat slinks in from the kitchen, but instead of heading to you, she immediately moves toward Jaehyun’s feet, letting out an obnoxiously loud purr as she begins to rub against him.

“Looks like Mittens hasn’t forgotten me either,” Jaehyun smiles, immediately bending down to pick up the fluffy grey and white kitty. She leans into his touch, purring like an engine as he scratches he cheeks. Her paws begin to make softies on his arm, and it makes your heart ache.

You’ve dated a few guys casually in Jaehyun’s absence, and Mittens has never liked any of them. She always was a daddy’s girl- after all, you’d started dating Jaehyun only a few months after you’d picked her up from the shelter.

You still have pictures of the two of them on your phone, hidden in a secret file- you’d never had the heart to delete them, and as you watch their reunion, you’re glad you never did.

“She missed you,” you admit. “We both did.”

You watch Jaehyun’s Adam’s apple bob with effort, your words clearly invoking emotion. You’re quick to look away.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask, kicking off your shoes. “I had a few drinks at the bar, was planning on making a grilled cheese-”

“You still do that?” Jaehyun asks.

“Yeah.” Your throat feels dry admitting another ghost of your past you still haven’t been able to shake. “I still do that.”

Grilled cheese after a night out had always been your thing, and when you’d started dating Jaehyun, it had become his thing too. You can’t even count how many nights the two of you came home from university parties only to make a grilled cheese and collapse on your bed, giggling and kissing like kids in love.

“A grilled cheese sounds perfect,” Jaehyun says. “Thank you.”

He follows you into the kitchen. As you begin to make the late-night snack, you realize Jaehyun has no intention of putting Mittens down. She basks in his attention, letting out upset chirps any time he tries to stop petting her to help you in small ways.

Jaehyun asks you about your job, and from that, the two of you begin to talk about your lives over the past two years. It feels too natural to slip into this type of conversation. His presence is so calming and familiar- by the time you’re done making the grilled cheese for you to share, it’s almost as if the past two years never happened.

It’s almost as if you never left him.

Almost as if he never left you first.

“Do you want to eat in here?” Jaehyun asks, heading to the small kitchen table.

“We can go to my bedroom,” you say softly. “Unless you wanted to be here.”

“Your bedroom is good.”

He follows you through your apartment, but when you get to your room, he stops in the doorway.

“I can’t get over how little this place has changed,” he muses, looking at the layout of the space.

“Yeah,” you sit down on your bed, lifting your legs onto the mattress and setting the plate by your knee. “I guess I’m used to it like this.”

Jaehyun knows all too well how comfortable you get, how hard it is for you to make changes. You think it must be one of the reasons he never fought the breakup. If you’d gotten to the point of needing an emotional separation to deal with the physical distance, pushing you to change your mind would have only made things worse.

“Can we come sit with you?” Jaehyun asks.

“Of course.” You gesture to the mattress. “Make yourself at home, Jae.”

With a small chuckle, he comes to join you. He’s careful when he sets Mittens down, and she immediately stretches, letting out a massive yawn before coming to investigate the grilled cheese.

Jaehyun reaches for his half of the sandwich. “I missed these.”

“It’s just a grilled cheese,” you laugh.

“Yeah, but there’s something special about the way you make it. I can’t explain it.”

You can only offer him a smile as you both lift the gooey, cheesy, greasy, crispy bread to your lips. The crunch is satisfying, and Jaehyun shifts the food to his right hand so he can pet Mittens with his left.

The two of you eat in silence, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about it. As your meal comes to a quick end, your phone begins to ring, and you stand up to answer it. “Give me a sec,” you tell him, exiting the room while Mittens rushes to follow you.

“Hey girl,” your best friend says. “You okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Seeing your ex must have been pretty hard.”

“Actually, uh…” you look toward your open bedroom door, swallowing thickly then lowering your voice, “he’s at my apartment with me.”

“What!?”

“Yeah, we’re talking things out.”

“Just talking?” You can hear the cheeky grin in her voice.

“Don’t be like that,” you laugh.

“Girl, you and that man were a dream couple. He’s the one that got away, and now he’s in your apartment- he’s probably sitting on your bed, eating grilled cheese-”

“God, stop,” you groan. “Am I that predictable?”

“Nah, it was hashtag just couple things. Okay, look, obviously you’re doing good- I was worried you were somewhere crying and drowning yourself in booze. I’ll leave you be. Say hi to him for me.”

“Will do.” You hang up, looking down at Mittens. She’s circling your feet, and with a sigh, you go to refill her food bowl. You’d given her lunch hours ago, and you feel bad that she just watched you down a grilled cheese with nothing for her own little mittens to get a hold of.

Also… your best friend knows you too well.

Your body is reacting to Jaehyun as if there was never a separation- or maybe, your body is reacting because there was a separation. Your pulse is picking up with each step back to your bedroom, and when you close the door behind you, Jaehyun cocks a brow, finishing his grilled cheese with one last large bite.

“You good?” he asks.

“I’m great,” you tell him, approaching the bed.

“Yeah?” Jaehyun’s gaze moves to the closed door, and he offers you a dimpled grin, mischief flaring on the edges of his expression. “You locked out Mittens.”

Nothing gets past this man. You’ve never loved getting intimate while Mittens is trying to hog Jaehyun’s attention, and you shouldn’t be surprised that he got you figured out the moment you closed the door to your bedroom.

“Don’t even with me, Jae.” You sigh, collapsing onto the mattress next to him while he moves the grilled cheese plate to the side table.

“Look, I don’t want you to feel any pressure just cuz I’m here and we’re sitting on your bed-”

“Does it look like I feel pressure?” you ask, hyper-aware of the way your dress is riding up your thighs.

Jaehyun gives you a slow once-over. “I guess not.”

“You really mean what you said about not going away a second time?” You look down. “Because I don’t think I could take it if we gave this another try and three months down the line you moved cities again.”

Your ex nods. “I promise. If you give me one more chance, I won’t let you down.”

You stare at Jaehyun for a moment, studying the sincerity on his face. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You open your arms, resting back against the pillows and spreading your legs. “Now come here.”

Jaehyun practically leaps on top of you. He slots between your thighs like he was made to be there, his mouth pressing to your own while you wrap him in a tight embrace. He kisses you like he’s been starved of your lips.

He retains some of the gentleness that he’d exhibited outside of the club, but there’s a desperation too, you can almost taste it on him… along with the grilled cheese.

The thought makes you smile, and Jaehyun breaks the kiss to look down at you, also grinning. “What?”

“Nothing, just- I’m happy.”

“Me too,” he admits, looking down at your beaming face before he grabs your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, angling your head to the side so he can access your neck. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure.

You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows.

“Don’t leave me again,” you whisper.

“Never again,” he promises, voice husky in your ear.

His hand slides down the curve of your body, grasping at your thighs and slowly pushing your dress up. Your hips move, rutting in an attempt to spur him on. When his fingers finally find your core through your panties, you swear you see stars. He begins to rub your clit, circling it as he applies more and more pressure.

His mouth continues on your neck, and you begin to whimper from the stimulus.

You’d nearly forgotten how good it feels to be touched by someone who knows you inside and out- by someone who cares about your pleasure more than he’s ever cared about his own.

“Jae,” you whimper, breathing heavily as he rubs your core.

“Yes, baby?” His lips are gentle along your throat, and the feather-light touch almost teases you more than a rougher one would.

“Can we skip the foreplay? I need you.”

Jaehyun’s fingers stop on your clit, and he pushes himself up on an elbow, looking down at you with a quizzical set to his brow. “Skip the foreplay?” he repeats, letting out a scoff. “Baby, I’ve been thinking about what I’d do to you if you ever gave me a second chance for over two years. We’re not skipping the foreplay.”

“But-”

“Please don’t argue with me. Just let me have this. Just let me enjoy the body I’ve missed so much. I’ve missed your sounds, the way you react to my touch-” his fingers pick up their pace on your clit again, and you let out a whine, pushing toward him again. “See? You’re perfect. No matter how many memories of this I have, nothing compares to the real thing.”

When you’d been dating Jaehyun initially, he was - for lack of a better word - pretty vanilla. This dirty talk is new, and it makes your stomach erupt into butterflies. Your mind goes practically blank, lulled into a lusty trance by the musings of a man who’s clearly bewitched by you, body and soul.

When your gaze dips down to his hand between your thighs, you notice the way his cock is straining in his pants. “Can I…” you swallow thickly, “Can I touch you too?”

“Yeah.” His mouth returns to your throat, and he pushes your panties to the side, dragging his fingers through your soaked folds. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me.”

You mewl at his words, quickly fumbling with the button of his pants so you can push them down just far enough to take his cock out of his briefs. Jaehyun releases a low groan and it makes your pussy flutter as you begin to stroke him.

Your ex reacts by slipping his fingers into your core, two long digits going knuckle deep. He tests your walls, grazing your g-spot when he begins to lazily pump his hand, his palm firmly pressing to your clit.

A whimper of pleasure escapes you, and you can feel Jaehyun grin against your neck. “The prettiest sounds,” he muses. “How did you ever get this pretty?”

It’s a rhetorical question, and it makes you feel cock drunk and dumb, your chest pushing up against his own, looking for stimulus- your nipples are hard in your bralette, but you wish you were naked already, wish you could feel him better-

“Jae?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you take my dress off?”

Jaehyun pulls his hand away from your core, bringing his two wet fingers to your lips. He pushes them into your mouth, propping himself up so he can look down at you while you suck his digits clean. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You groan around his fingers, the act of sucking is turning you on more than you’d care to admit, but it ends too quickly as Jaehyun pulls his hand away.

He sits up, taking off his own shirt first. Then he reaches down to grab at the hem of your dress, slowly dragging it up your form. Jaehyun’s eyes take in each strip of newly exposed skin, and you can see the way his pupils have blown with interest.

You lift your shoulders off the bed, making it easier for him to tear the fabric off of you and toss it to the side. This leaves you in your bralette and panties, both of which you’re eager to have join your dress on the floor.

Jaehyun’s hand reaches out to cup your breast, his thumb smoothing over the pebbled nipple that’s pushing through the silky fabric. He squeezes you gently, forcing you to release a moan of pleasure.

A moment later, he’s removing your panties, then your bra, fingers pinching at your newly exposed nipple.

Your hand, meanwhile, returns to his cock- only for Jaehyun to grab at your wrist, pulling you away.

You’re about to ask what’s wrong, but then Jaehyun turns your hand palm up, and he spits into the center of it, bringing it back to his cock.

There’s no way that action should have been as sexy as it was- your core throbbing as you begin to stroke his rock-hard length.

With one last lustful look at your body, Jaehyun settles over top of you again, his mouth seeking out your breasts while you pump his cock. The feeling of his tongue flicking against you has you crying out, pushing your chest toward his mouth. His teeth graze over your sensitive nipple and you respond by applying more pressure to his cock.

Jaehyun groans loudly, rutting his hips into your hand, which stills so you can allow him to fuck your palm. He continues to worship your breasts while his hips do most of the work, and you surrender yourself to the pleasurable scenario you’ve found yourself in.

“You know…” Jaehyun presses another kiss to your nipple, “I was going to ask you to sit on my face, but… it’s hard being this close to your pretty pussy and not just… slipping it in.”

“Yeah?” You guide his cock closer to your core, so that when he ruts his hips, the tip of his cock glides through your soaked folds. “Then just do it.”

“Here I was, saying not to skip the foreplay- but here I am, giving in to you like always.”

Jaehyun releases a laugh, and it makes you giggle along with him, because it’s true. Jaehyun may have this sexy, devil-may-care attitude, but he’s always been a total simp for you.

He was completely wrapped around your finger when you first met, and he’s completely wrapped around your finger now. It’s interesting how so much can change, and so little can change at the same time.

“You just feel so good,” Jaehyun groans, thrusting again, the tip of his pretty pink flushed cock just slipping inside of you-

“Fuck, Jae, please-” you push your chest up toward his face again, pumping his length, trying to guide him deeper-

He brings his mouth to your own, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss as he sheaths himself into your wet core.

You let out a low whine, wrapping your legs around his hips and releasing his cock in favor of grabbing his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck-” Jaehyun moans, staying still inside of you while your walls pulse around his shaft. “Missed this perfect pussy, baby.”

“Missed your perfect cock,” you retort, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and drawing him in for another kiss.

His tongue clashes against your own, his hands finding your hips so he can steady himself as he begins to rut into you.

You love getting lost in him. You can feel your mind slipping away, your body giving into its primal instincts as Jaehyun makes love to you the way he has so many times before.

One of his hands finds your own, taking it from his shoulder and lacing your fingers above you, pressing you into the pillow. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, breathing heavily.

“There’s so much I’ve wanted to say,” Jaehyun admits.

“Then say it,” you urge him, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

He nuzzles against your palm, closing his eyes for a moment while he enjoys your touch. “I’ve missed everything about you. You’ve been on my mind every day for two years.”

Your heart aches.

“It’s more than just the sex, and you know it. I’ve missed holding you,” he squeezes your hand, “missed sleeping next to you. Missed late-night talks and grilled cheese. Missed your laugh and the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Missed the way you cry at sad parts in movies-”

As he talks, the pace of his thrusts gets faster, and you find it harder and harder not to moan like a whore and interrupt his cute little speech about missing you.

In fact, it’s hard to even keep your eyes open, but your gaze is caught in his own. Jaehyun’s staring into your soul, baring himself to you like a man who’s brought all his walls down.

“I love you,” Jaehyun says gruffly, “I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for one single day. It’s you, and it’s always been you.”

Your stomach muscles clench at his admission, orgasm bubbling to the surface fast from the combination of his movements and his words.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assures you, licking his lips. “Just rub your clit and let me feel your perfect pussy clench around me as you cum, that will be answer enough.”

With a loud whine, you throw your head back against the pillow, threading your free hand between your bodies. The first touch of your fingers on your clit has you throbbing already, and you release a gasp.

“That’s it, baby,” Jaehyun coos, lips finding your throat. “Just like that.”

“Jae-”

“I know, I know you’re close- must be pent up like me, right? We’re both going to cum way too fast, but that’s okay, we have all the time in the world to enjoy each other- the way I’m going to eat your perfect pussy for breakfast tomorrow morning-”

Your core pulses at the thought, and you rub your clit harder.

“Gonna let go for me, right, baby? I’m so close, want you to cum with me.”

“I’m there-” you tell him, shivering as he licks the sweet spot on your throat. ‘Fuck, Jae-”

“You want me to cum inside right? You’re still on the-”

“Cum inside,” you interrupt him. “God, fuck, please- need you to fill me up-”

Jaehyun groans, squeezing your hand again. His lips move from your neck to your mouth, and your tongues clash in a breathless, moan-filled frenzy, your orgasms just out of reach-

One more whimpered “please” out of you has Jaehyun moaning, his high crashing into him. You can feel him filling you up with his cum, and it triggers your own orgasm. A gasp escapes you, your sensitive nipples pressing against his chiseled chest-

You can feel him everywhere. He’s all-consuming. You completely let go, sounds uninhibited, pussy throbbing harder than it has in the past two years.

Jaehyun fucks you through it, until you’re both sweaty, gasping messes. Then he collapses on top of you, giving your captured hand one last squeeze before adjusting. He rolls off of you just enough to tuck you close to his chest, hand finding your hair and beginning to pet you.

You can hear the racing of his heart as he catches his breath.

As you come down from your high, you feel a welling of emotion bubbling inside of you. You’re shocked when a tear rolls down your cheek, and you’re quick to brush it away. Jaehyun notices the movement and tilts his head to assess you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “I’m just…. I’m happy, and I missed you a lot.”

“Baby,” Jaehyun’s fingers draw pretty nothings on your back, “I promise I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I've been reading a lot of shorter smut fics recently, and after doing such a big kick-off in January, I wanted to try a shorter piece again, and challenge myself with a little angst :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. “Listen, I promised myself I wasn't going to cum in or on you tonight - you know, seeing as you’re my wife tomorrow and I don’t want to disrespect you - but since you’re begging for it,” Jaehyun slips the tip of his cock inside of you, only to pull away, “I guess I can settle for cumming on your ass, but only if we shower together after.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, creampie, pussy eating champ Jae, pussy worship, fingering, 69, blow job, hand job, deep throating, gentle choking, begging, dirty talk, slight cum kink/mentions of exhibitionism, finger sucking, multiple reader orgasms, etc… I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.1k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

bonus

Since you got back with Jaehyun over a year ago, the two of you haven’t been separated for longer than twelve hours, but tomorrow is the day of your wedding, and there are certain traditions about the bride and groom staying apart- so here you are, cuddled on a couch in your hotel room, missing your fiance.

When your phone rings and Jaehyun’s pretty face shows up as the contact on your screen, you fumble over yourself to pause your movie and answer it. “Jae?”

“Hey, baby. What room are you in again?”

You think about it for a moment. You’d never actually told him where you’re staying in the hotel… “Why do you want to know?”

“Maybe I wanna send my fiance flowers before our wedding tomorrow.”

God, why’s he so charming?

You give him your room number without a second thought, hanging up with an ‘I love you.’

Five minutes later, there’s a knock at the door, and you open it to find Jaehyun standing there with a massive dimpled grin on his face, and a vase of flowers in his hands. “Hi, baby.”

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