#THE LAST ONE I READ THE MC WAS 14!!!!!!!!!!

[shvkespearc]

what is it about 2024/current litfic that always has like gratuitous masturbation scenes of the main girl. make it stop. sometimes its not the vibe sometimes it doesnt work

[heedeungism]

𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨.

•°. *࿐ PAIRING ― riki nishimura x fem!reader •°. *࿐ SYNOPSIS ― in which riki is smitten with you and your sharp tongue. •°. *࿐ GENRE ― one-shot, ????-to-lovers, fake dating, angst, fluff, crack, rich kid au, highschool lacrosse au •°. *࿐ WORD COUNT ― 22k •°. *࿐ CONTENT WARNING(S) ― violence(one fight) and threats of it, lots of tension, mc is a horndog what's new, i meant to make this slow like the first part but im a weak woman, weed, mc is her own worst enemy, mc is stupid before she is smart <3, attempted unwanted touching, riki is the jealous type but in a green flag way, don’t ask where the teachers are, riki has bigger hands than mc, kissing(many a time), once i got the angst out of the way it turned into crack js •°. *࿐ EXTRA NOTES ― thank you all for being so kind and giving me such helpful feedback and love! shoutout to my hg @1ntaks for once again holding my hand and basically beta reading this for me, you're the best queen. •°. *࿐ SOUNDTRACK ― busy woman by sabrina carpenter, don’t smile by sabrina carpenter, big girls don’t cry by fergie, better than me by doja cat, diet pepsi by addison rae, what a girl wants by christina aguilera, positions by ariana grande, he could be the one by hannah montana, bmf by sza

part one.

AT THE BEGINNING OF FEBRUARY you realized how easy it was to get over Eunseok at the same moment that it sinks in that you can’t get over Riki.

Maybe it's the fact that he’s still friendly despite the ‘breakup’, or that he still makes sweet comments that feel too genuine to be taken as flirting anymore. He hasn’t changed much of his behavior at all since the end of January, actually.

The news of the short-lived relationship spread around school. Though it was clear that you both were still friends, most of the rumors were dispelled. However, some were still infuriatingly present.

Now, you’re not the type of person who gives a shit about what other people think of you—especially not a bunch of pubescent teenagers with so little going on in their own lives that they find entertainment in yours. But your patience is wearing thin. If you hear another freshman whisper about you not being over your cheating ex, you are going to go insane. (Despite your reputation, you are above throwing hands with 14 year-olds.)

“So you want something like this, right?” Julie taps on her phone screen from across from you, showing the nail inspiration photo you had sent her just last week. When you only nod, she tilts her head with a curious raise of her brows, “We can do something different, hon’.”

Quickly, you shake your head and straighten your posture in the chair across from her, “No, sorry. I just—I’m just thinking about shit. I still want a set like that.” You force a soft laugh, and she nods with a soft ‘okay’.

“So? Anything new?” She asks with a pretty smile as she plugs in her nail drill and turns on the dust collector.

You lay your hands onto the rest between the two of you, humming and then sighing, “I’m still single.”

Julie begins working at removing her work from three weeks ago with the drill, though the pink mask keeping her from inhaling the dust doesn’t hide her face of baffled confusion, “I thought you were dating that lacrosse guy, though.”

The sound of the drill and fan are like white noise to the both of you as you sigh and drop your head forward, “Didn’t work out.”

Julie gasps softly, clearly upset for you, “What’d he do?”

While you love that her first instinct was to ask what he did and not what you did, the latter is more fitting for the situation. “He was too perfect and I got scared?” You admit softly with a guilty shrug.

Julie pauses in her work and deadpans at you, “Ho.”

“I know!” You whine softly as she resumes, using your free hand to grab the chilled can of Dr Pepper she’d grabbed for you before your appointment started, sipping from the pink straw before you continue to whine, “I fucked up.”

“I never got to see a photo last time, either.” Julie recalls as she progresses to removing the hard-gel off your other hand, “You hadn’t picked anyone for your little plan, yet.”

Julie knowing about your genius plan to ruin Eunseok and Nayeon’s day, everyday, with your tall, hot, and sweet ‘boyfriend’ was inevitable. She had dropped the traitorous bitch as a client the moment you and Belle told her about it, equally as disgusted by Nayeon as the both of you. Not to mention, Belle always yapped her pretty head off during her appointments, so as previously stated, it was inevitable.

“You’re gonna hate me,” You say, grabbing your phone with your now dusty and bare fingers to quickly tap to a photo of Riki that Jake had sent you. He’s got his helmet tucked under his arm and seemed to be captured in a heated argument with another boy on the team. The first thing you noticed was his hands, though.

When she pauses to look at your screen, she looks at you again and sighs like a disappointed mother, shaking her head and turning the drill back on. You whine, “Don’t sigh at me, I’m in mourning.”

“I thought you said you weren’t worried about catching feelings.” She reminds you, and you roll your eyes.

“Bitch, look at him.” You sass, picking up your phone to show the still-lit screen before placing it facedown in your lap again, “and he was just so—sweet. And he liked when I was mean to him.”

“As he should.”

“—and his smile made me want to stick my head in an oven Sylvia Plath style.” You say with a soft pout on your lips, “It was so much so suddenly, and I freaked out.”

Julie turns off the drill and grabs the brush to clean off the dust from your hands as she nods slightly to what you’re saying, “And Eunseok was so recent.”

“—And Eunseok was so recent!” You repeat in vehement agreement, groaning up at the ceiling as you slump slightly, “Why do boys ruin everything?”

You spend the next few hours of your nail appointment ranting about everything. Riki, your ex, your ex best friend, your dad (who had texted you a long message after you left him that you promptly responded to with a ‘that doesn’t look like an apology so im not reading that’).

mommy dearest 🩷: can you pick up some groceries for me? just a few things

The text from your mom as you swipe your card on Julie’s reader is paired with a chime you recognize as your bank app. Your new nails tap on your screen as you open the notification, grinning at the sight of a hefty transfer of funds into your account. 

The small list your mother sends doesn’t come close to costing the amount she sent you to pay for it, so you decide to stop at Sephora while you’re out too.

You choose the highest percentage to tip and sign her phone screen with your knuckle before bidding her a happy farewell and exiting the salon. The drive to the strip center is barely ten minutes long, your BMW filled with Christina Aguilera and the trip slightly delayed by your admiration of your new nails at every red light. 

When you get into the Sephora, which you decided to visit first since your mom’s list included produce, you b-line to the skincare section. 

You’re debating between oil cleansers when you’re tapped on the shoulder. 

The woman before you looks around your mother’s age, a bit shorter than you but with a beautiful smile on her face. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but are you Y/n?”

You blink, caught off guard, but nod.

Her grin widens. “I’m Riki’s mom!”

Your stomach drops. Every instinct screams at you to panic, but instead, you paint a pretty smile on your face, the kind your mother taught you to perfect at charity galas. “Oh my god, hi!”

Before you can react, she pulls you into a hug, warm and tight, smelling faintly of lavender and vanilla. You reciprocate, though your arms are stiff and hesitant.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” she gushes, pulling back to hold you at arm’s length. Her eyes, as sharp and bright as Riki’s, scan you with something between approval and curiosity. “You’re just as lovely as he said.”

“Thank you,” you manage, your voice light despite the whirlwind in your chest at the sudden and  information that Riki talks about you at home. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“I can’t believe I ran into you like this!” she says, her excitement bubbling over. “You’re like a doll, honey. The photos he’s shown me don’t do you justice.”

Your brain short-circuits at the word photos. Plural.

���Oh?” you manage, keeping your smile intact even as your heart feels like it’s trying to escape the confines of your chest.

“Of course! He’s always talking about you,” she continues, as if she didn’t just drop a bomb on you in the middle of Sephora. “He showed me the cutest one of you two at the bowling alley—said it was his favorite night in a long time.”

Your breath catches, but you quickly cover it with a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s so sweet of him.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She beams like she’s talking about a national treasure instead of her son. “He’s always been so shy when it comes to girls, but with you, it’s different. I can tell you mean a lot to him.”

The words land like a stone in your chest, heavy and impossible to ignore. You can’t tell if she’s trying to hint at something or if she’s just being a proud mom, but either way, you suddenly feel very out of your depth.

“That’s nice to hear,” you say lightly, though your throat feels tight. “He’s a great guy.”

She places a hand on your arm, her touch gentle but firm. “You’re good for him, you know. He’s happier these days, more confident.”

Your mind flashes to Riki’s easy smiles, the way he leans into you during conversations, the soft look in his eyes when he thinks you’re not paying attention. You swallow hard.

“Thank you, Mrs. Nishimura,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel . “That really means a lot.”

Her smile softens, and she gives your arm a little squeeze. “Oh, call me Rin, honey. And if you ever want to come over for dinner, just let me know. I’d love to have you.”

“Dinner sounds lovely,” you say with a polite smile, already running on autopilot. “I’ll have to check with Riki, but I’m sure he’d love that too.”

“Oh, good! I’ll talk to him about it tonight,” Rin says brightly, her excitement only adding to the internal chaos brewing in your chest. “You two are so sweet together—I can’t believe he didn’t tell me you were this gorgeous in person.”

You blink, momentarily stunned, and force out a soft laugh. “That’s really kind of you to say.”

“I mean it.” She gives you an approving once-over before leaning in conspiratorially. “You know, he’s usually so tight-lipped about his personal life. I had to drag it out of him that you two were dating in the first place.”

The air leaves your lungs like you’ve been punched. He hadn’t told her.

“He—uh—didn’t mention that we’re…” you start, the words catching in your throat.

“Together?” she finishes for you with a knowing smile. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t embarrass him too much about it. I just want him to be happy, and it’s so obvious you make him happy.”

You feel your face flush, your carefully constructed composure threatening to crack. But instead of correcting her, you nod, your smile tighter now. “That’s really sweet of you to say.”

She reaches out and pats your arm warmly. “It was so nice meeting you, sweetheart. I’ll let you get back to your shopping. Tell Riki I said hi, okay?”

“I will,” you promise, your voice light despite the storm in your head.

As soon as she disappears down another aisle, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Reaching for the oil cleansers again, you try to steady yourself, replaying her words over and over.

He didn’t tell her.

A part of you is…warm with the information. The other part wants to puke your guts out. 

You stare blankly at the oil cleansers in front of you, your grip tightening around the bottle in your hand. The woman’s words replay in your mind like a broken record, each one sharper than the last.

“He’s happier these days, more confident.”

“It’s so obvious you make him happy.”

“He didn’t tell me you were this gorgeous in person.”

Your chest tightens, a mix of guilt and something softer—but no less overwhelming—clawing its way up your throat. The whole point of fake dating was to not make things messy. Yet here you are, feeling like a lead character in a rom-com whose life is falling apart. Right now would be an amazing time for Matthew McConaughey to come out and sweep you off your feet. 

(You realize with borderline humiliating speed that you would much prefer if Riki swept you off your feet. Seriously, there must be something wrong with you.)

The bottle trembles slightly in your hand, and you force yourself to set it back on the shelf with a shaky exhale. You’re not the kind of girl who lets this sort of thing get to her. You’re confident, decisive, in control. Except when it comes to him.

The thought makes you pause, your fingers brushing absently over your nails as the memory of his smile creeps in—the one he reserved just for you, warm and easy and dangerous.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, grabbing the Sulwhasoo cleanser you were debating spending so much on and beginning to mindlessly fill the black Sephora tote as you walk through the aisles. Real therapy has nothing on retail therapy considering you know what your problems are and how to fix them. Paying someone to tell you those things seems counterproductive when you can make yourself feel better by treating yourself.

By all accounts, it’s been a good day for you. Getting out of the school parking lot was exceptionally easy despite the traffic you encounter more often than not. You got your nails done and love how they turned out. You’re currently splurging at Sephora. And now you have reason to believe Riki doesn’t secretly hate you for breaking his heart.

riki 🙈: just got out of practice

riki 🙈: are you coming to the game tomorrow?

You look at your phone as you tap your card on the reader and accept the large black and white striped bag from the girl at the counter.  Thanking her with a smile before beginning to make your way out to your car again. When you settle into the driver’s seat, the heat turns on as you place the bag into the passenger seat.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, nails tapping against your case as your phone automatically hooks up to the bluetooth, ‘After Hours’ by The Weeknd beginning to play. “Oh, shut up.” You sigh as you pause the music and finally muster up the right response.

pretty girl 🪩: depends on how nice you are to me tomorrow

riki 🙈: i’ll bring you a gift rn

pretty girl 🪩: im not home

As soon as the text is marked as Read, your screen is replaced by his caller ID, a photo of him at age ten in a Michael Jackson costume lighting up your screen. You can’t help but chuckle before pressing the green button, reaching to turn the volume up as you ask with a playfully suspicious tone, “Can I help you?”

“Mhm, where are you?” His deep voice and hum makes you bite your fist.

You begin pulling out of the parking lot to make it across the street to the grocery store, “Getting groceries, why?”

“I wanna see you.” 

Lord have mercy—

“You sure you don’t just miss Gus?“ You hesitate to mention the revelations made by his very kind mother in Sephora, but decide to hold off.

“Oh, I do miss Gus, but I miss his mom more.”

Oh, you hate the soft laughter that leaves your mouth the moment you hear it, “I won’t be long at the store, it’s just a few things.”

There’s a shuffle on the other side, then he says, “What store?”

“Riki, it’s literally like four things.” You laugh at his shameless eagerness, “I’ll text you when I’m home.”

He chuckles softly before humming again, “Okay, bye pretty.”

“Bye.” A beat passes and ‘What a Girl Wants’ by Christina Aguilera blares through the speakers so loud you jump, “Jesus Christ.”

By the time you pull into the grocery store parking lot, you’ve replayed his voice in your head at least five times. I wanna see you. It wasn’t just what he said, but the way he said it—soft, easy, like he wasn’t asking for anything out of the ordinary. Like it was natural for him to want to be around you, and for you to want the same. You’re...friends. 

You curse the thought away as you grab your keys and step into the cold evening air, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. You don’t need to be thinking about Riki Nishimura and his stupid, perfect face and voice the whole time.

The grocery run is quick—milk, eggs, a few vegetables, and a bag of Gus’s favorite treats because you can’t resist—and you’re back in your car in record time. You text Riki that you're on the way home and find yourself smiling when he loves the message. It drops a second later when you realize what you’re doing and curse again, tossing your phone into the cup holder like it’s on fire and covering your face to self-reflect.

When you pull into the driveway of your home, it isn’t hard to spot Riki’s black Jeep parked at the curb. What is hard is hiding the grin that forms on your lips as you park your car and get out to grab the groceries in your trunk. The lacrosse player is already exiting his own vehicle and jogging over to help you.

“You didn’t have to come,” you say as he reaches for the bag of vegetables in your hands, but there’s no bite to your words.

“You said you’d text me when you were home,” he replies, his voice light and teasing as he takes the other bags with ease. “I figured I’d save you the trouble.”

You shake your head, grabbing your Sephora bag and locking your car. “So damn impatient.”

“Only when it comes to you.” His response is so casual, so effortless, it knocks the air from your lungs. You glance at him, but he’s already halfway up the path, waiting for you at the door like he hadn’t just said something that made your knees weak.

When you catch up, you unlock the door with the code and nudge it open with your foot, paising once you’re inside to shut it behind him. You kick off your shoes and pass Riki to get to the kitchen, placing your Sephora bag on one of the island’s chairs and watching him place the few grocery bags on the counter. 

“Gus~” You call out as you begin to unpack the paper bags, and there’s a soft warbled meow in response in the direction of your room. The plump tuxedo cat appears around the corner, rubbing his body against the wall with another soft cry for attention that has Riki cooing and lowering himself to the ground to oblige him.

Once you’ve got groceries put away, you watch the 6’ something lacrosse player pet your cat with gentle scratches under his chin that he leans into with slow blinks, “Are you happy?”

Your softly giggled question has Riki smiling up at you, “So happy.”

With a soft huff of amusement, you grab your Sephora bag and walk in the direction of your room, choosing not to glance behind you to see if he’s following. Just act natural, bitch.

You leave your door open as you enter your room, thanking the lord that the cleaning lady had visited while you were out and your room isn’t as dirty as you left it this morning. Walking into your bathroom to start putting away your new skincare, you ignore the sound of him entering your room. 

“You have a lot of perfume.” You hear him comment, glancing over your shoulder to see him admiring the organized collection on your open vanity.

“Yeah, I...have a problem” You say with a soft laugh of slight embarrassment at your habit of buying yourself anything pretty or relatively cutesy. “I have more in my closet.”

Riki whistles lowly, seemingly a bit impressed, “Which one’s your favorite?”

With a hum of thought, you step out of your bathroom to walk to your closet. You don’t mind the open door as you enter, reaching the island in the center working double as storage and where you keep your perfumes. Riki follows just to the doorway, leaning against it as his eyes move from you to the expanse of your walk-in closet. The floor-to-ceiling shelves in the back displaying heels and boots of different luxury brands, the pretty runner rug beneath your feet, it all screams you.

You’re plucking your favorite bottle from the display when his eyes land on the corner of something flat and white hidden behind a woven hamper. The easy smile on your face drops the moment you see him pull it out from its hiding spot, a boyish grin on his face. “You sneaky fuck.” 

He laughs at your immediate cursing, holding the white board out of your reach as you hasten towards him to take it from him, “Pros and Cons?”

“Oh my god.” You give up on taking it from him, hands moving to try and cover his eyes, “Riki!”

“It’s about me, pretty girl.” he argues playfully, still laughing while trying to dodge your hands, “C’mon, just a peek!”

“Boys aren’t allowed to peek—Riki!” You fight laughter as his arm hooks around your head, his hand covering your face as he begins to read out the words you wish you had erased when you had the chance.

“‘Nickname kinda dumb’, you think my nicknames dumb?” He asks in an offended tone, laughter seeping into his words.

“That wasn’t me, that was Jongseob—“

“Cut his hair—Why is cutting my hair a con?” He asks incredulously, finally letting you push his hand away from your face to look down at you. Your back is still half-pressed to his chest, and the moment you can look up at him your heart skips like it’s playing hopscotch in your chest.

You catch the glance his eyes take down below your nose and find yourself pulling away quickly, grabbing the whiteboard from him to haphazardly use your sleeve to wipe the marker off, ignoring his laughed ‘hey!’ and sighing in relief when you erase enough for the rest of its contents to look like random pink lines across its surface.

When you spin around with a playfully pointed finger to curse him out, your words catch in your throat at the look in his eyes. 

How a look could be both heavy and so soft, you do not know, but it's the best way you can describe Riki’s gaze.

“Wh—“ You stammer with hesitation, face heating up as his soft smile turns into a smirk of amusement, “Stop looking at me like that.”

“How am I looking at you?” He questions in a light tone, almost soft. If you didn’t know better you’d think him genuine in his innocence, but the slight twitch of the corner of his lips and the way his eyes flit to yours gives it away.

“Riki.”

His name leaving your lips draws his gaze away from them, and his smirk turns into one more wry. “I left your gift in my car.” 

Your chest clenches painfully as he turns to exit your closet, your lips parting yet no words leaving them as he walks out. You follow after him, abandoning your perfume on the closest surface, “Riki, wait—“

“It’s okay—” he starts, turning just in time to stop you from crashing into him. His hands find your forearms instinctively, steadying you, but the sudden proximity freezes you both in place.

You blink up at him, startled, your breath hitching at the closeness. His fingers are warm through the fabric of your sweater, his touch gentle, like he’s afraid to hold on too tight.

“I—” You start to say something, anything, but your voice falters when you meet his gaze. There’s something there, something unspoken and unbearably soft that makes your chest ache. 

Your words catch in your throat when he gently steps back, his hands slipping away as though he’s suddenly aware of the space—or lack thereof—between you. “It’s fine,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. His voice is soft, but there’s a distance in it that wasn’t there before, and it only makes the knot in your chest tighten. “I’ll go grab it.” 

You take a step forward before you can stop yourself, “Riki, I didn’t mean—”

“Really, don’t worry about it.” His voice is light, too light, as he cuts you off with a small wave of his hand. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

You hesitate, watching as he turns toward the hallway, his movements just a little too deliberate. His usual ease is gone, replaced by something quieter, more careful.

Your heart sinks. Is he upset with you? He doesn’t seem angry, but there’s a tension in the way he carries himself that wasn’t there before.

“I wasn’t trying to make things weird,” you blurt out, desperate to bridge the gap forming between you.

He pauses mid-step, his back still to you. For a moment, it seems like he might say something, but instead, he exhales quietly and turns just enough to glance over his shoulder.

“You didn’t,” he says, his tone softer now, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression—regret? Frustration? “It’s not you. I just… I need a second. That’s all.”

His mother’s words ring in your head again, “It’s so obvious you make him happy.”

Yet, you feel like the opposite is all you can see. You ask him to be your fake boyfriend to make your ex mad, not even considering his feelings. You tell him you can’t date him despite him treating you with more respect and care than Eunseok ever did. You let him kiss you. You kissed back.

Clearly, you have royally fucked up a few times now.

Confronting him about not telling his mother felt like it would only make things worse between the two of you. Maybe, it’d be better for him to hear it from his mother instead of you.

Your stomach twists, guilt gnawing at you even though his words tell you otherwise. You nod, unsure what else to say, and he offers a faint, almost apologetic smile before disappearing down the hall.

“And then what?” Belle questions with a vehemence that startles you slightly. Eunchae, Hiyyih, and Jongseob are all listening intently from their normal spots in your room, your oldest friend of the four standing with her hands on her hips.

When you had informed the group chat you were staying home the next day, you definitely did not expect the four to show up to your house after piling into an Uber. One look at your tear-streaked face was enough for them to ask the questions that brought you to now.

You stammer slightly, “He—He came back with the gift and made up an excuse to leave.”

“You let him leave?” Belle asks incredulously, and you shrink under her gaze, “Bitch.”

“I don’t know, okay!” You say with your face in your hands, frustrated tears burning your eyes again as you groan, “It’s all so complicated.”

Jongseob raises his hand, waiting for Belle to motion for him to speak before he asks, “Do you like him? Also, is this a bad time to say I have a joint in my bag?”

Eunchae punches his arm, and your hands slide off your face, mind too preoccupied by your current dilemma to even insult the only boy in the friend group for his lack of ability to read the room as usual. Hiyyih leans forward to let the youngest reach over her to get to him, “That was a good question until you ruined it.” 

”Do you like him, though?” Eunchae asks once Jongseob’s arm is surely to bruise and his hands are up in surrender.

You look up from your hands, “I don’t know—“

“You’re pissing me off.” Belle sighs, palm moving to her forehead, and while you know she means well. “You like him.”

“I can’t.” You argue, voice shaking as you fight tears. Eunchae moves from her bean bag to sit next to you. “All that shit with Eunseok was barely a month ago—“

“Who gives a shit about Eunseok anymore?” Belle snaps, throwing her hands up in frustration, “Just because you dated that asshole for two years doesn’t mean it’ll take that long for you to move on.”

“It still feels like I’m using him.” You finally let the tears fall, and her frustration seems to dissipate. She sighs softly, kneeling in front of your sitting form at the edge of your bed.

Her hands move to cover yours, “Do you still have feelings for Eunseok?” The face you make answers her question and she adds, “Do you still think of Riki as a way to get back at him?”

“Of course not.“

“Then you aren’t using him.” She finishes. “He went into this knowing your plan, and you said he even told you it wasn’t you that was the problem.”

You shake your head, tears falling as you blink them away, “He looked upset—“

“Then that’s his problem.” She argues again, “It’s his job to communicate how he feels if he likes you.”

“He does communicate. I’m the issue!” You cry pitifully, “I don’t want him to think I’m not over Eunseok because—I’m still so angry.”

“He cheated on you with your best friend, you don’t have to forgive him to be able to move on to a healthy relationship.” She states.

“But it feels—“ You can’t find words for why it feels wrong to want to date Riki, because the thought of it makes your heart race, “I don’t know! I’ve known him for barely a month and I just—“

“You like him and feel like it’s not real because it happened too fast?” She reads you like a damn book, but you’re almost thankful for it.

“Yes!” You cry, “And he deserves better than that.”

“So, you like Riki?” She repeats her question, her tone matching yours.

You find yourself answering before you can even think, “Yes!”

Your stomach drops as Belle stands like her work here is done. 

It isn’t you realizing you like Riki that has your stomach filling with dread and guilt, it's the fact that you like him more than you have ever liked anyone. 

You liked Eunseok, even told him you loved him, but that seed hadn’t grown in your chest no matter how many times it left your mouth in the form of ‘I love you.’

Yet, you imagine yourself with Riki—loving him—and it all sounds so…easy. The mundanity you dreaded having to live with Eunseok sounded like a dream with Riki. Falling in love with him sounded like something you wouldn’t mind experiencing. 

Which, all things considered, is fucking terrifying to you.

Hiyyih, who had been silently watching the interaction, pats the shoulder of the boy beside her, “I think she’s gonna need that joint now, Seob.”

The shaggy-haired producer straightens up, nodding and quickly reaching for his bag to pull the baggy from the front pocket.

Belle moves toward your closet, “Manchae, Hiyyih, help her wipe her face while I find her an outfit for the game tonight.”

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head in a panicked way that makes Belle grab your face in her hands, uncaring of the fact she’s squishing your cheeks, “Do you want Riki to be your boyfriend, yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Then you are going to this game, and you are going to look hot.” She walks you through it like she’s talking to a child, “And when he scores the winning home run, you’re going to run onto that field and jump him, got it?”

Jongseob raises his hand again, though doesn't wait to be called on as he interjects, “Home runs are baseball—“

“That isn't the point, dipshit.” Eunchae sasses before turning her attention back to you, “Can I ask what the gift he got you was?”

You nod as Belle releases your face, sniffling softly as you hold up your hand to showcase the charm bracelet on your wrist. Two charms hang from it, your birthstone and a tiny lacrosse stick. “He said he got it before…everything happened.”

“He bought you a charm bracelet after a week of knowing you?” Jongseob asks in a suspicious tone, and when the three girls besides you shoot him a dirty look, he holds his hands up in surrender, “Sorry—it’s just I think I’ve…connected some dots.”

“You haven’t connected shit.” Eunchae says, before promptly adding, “I just wanted to say that, you can continue.”

Jongseob shoots her an annoyed look, before looking at you and beginning, “Well, I was talking to Soul the other day—y’know the one that goes to music club with me— and he said he and Riki were friends in Freshman year.”

His hesitant pause has you looking at him and saying, “What does that mean to me?”

He continues, “He mentioned him having a huge crush on a girl then—“

“Why would I want to know this, Seob?” You question with exasperation.

“Let me finish!” He insists, and you sigh, motioning for him to land the damn plane, “I did some digging—aka asking his teammates about it—and while most of them didn’t know or wouldn’t tell me, Jake kind of insinuated it was you.”

You blink, “How did he insinuate it was me?”

“Well, I asked him what he thought about your breakup and he got all weepy about it. Said he was rooting for you guys to be endgame.” Typical Jake. “Then, I mentioned you guys not knowing each other for long and it sounded like he almost said that Riki’s been into you for years.”

The four of you blink at the boy’s retelling of events, and Belle is the first to snap out of her surprise, “And why didn’t you tell us this when you found out?”

“You guys never let me talk. Plus, that seemed like the last thing she wanted to hear.” He argues, then motions to you, and none of the girls in the room can really argue back. He doesn’t seem all that bothered about the truth of his own statement, though, as he holds up the bagged joint once more. “Now, are we smoking this or not?”

Parking your car has never left you with such a dreadful feeling in your gut, which Jongseob swore a hit of his shitty joint would ease, yet all it did was jumble your thoughts more. 

The temperature sensor reads a biting 30°F, and as you zip up the thick teddy puffer jacket you shiver with pure nerves. “Fuck.” 

Flipping down the sun visor, you check your reflection in its mirror. The warm light reflects off the gloss on your lips, which you fuss over with the pad of your finger even though it’s as perfect as it was when you applied it. 

Stalling. You’re stalling.

With a deep breath, you snap the visor shut and cut the engine, grabbing your purse and phone before stepping into the biting cold. The frigid air slashes through the layers of your outfit, your jacket doing little to stop the chill. You already regret picking the cuter option over something more practical, but you’d made your bed. Now you had to lie in it.

Ain't that the truth.

The field is already alive with movement and muted chatter. Teams are warming up, their voices cutting through the chilly air as balls thud against lacrosse sticks and cleats crunch on frosted grass. You can’t see Riki yet, but the sight of the players in their jerseys stirs the knot in your chest.

Decelis Demons v. YG Pirates

As you near the bleachers, a familiar voice calling your name stops you in your tracks. 

“Over here!” 

You turn, spotting Riki’s mom waving at you with a warm smile, flanked by two young girls bundled in matching puffer jackets. His sisters. The younger one is tugging impatiently at her scarf, while the older stands with her arms crossed, looking vaguely unimpressed by the entire ordeal.

“Mrs. Nishimura, hi!” you manage once you’ve climbed the bleachers to join her side, hoping your smile doesn’t betray the whirlwind of emotions brewing beneath the surface.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she says, her voice as kind as you remember. “Riki didn’t mention anything, but I figured you’d be here for him.”

Your face heats at her words, but you force a nod, gripping the strap of your purse tighter and attempting to ignore the cold nipping at your fingers. “Of course, even if it's colder than a Yeti’s ass out here.” 

You almost regret your colorful language before the older girl snorts softly, “Preach.” 

Mrs. Nishimura chuckles, “It is freezing,” she agrees. “I told Riki he should’ve picked an indoor sport, but you know how stubborn he is.” She jests, and then proceeds to add, “Oh, and these are my daughters, Maki and Runa

You smile at the two of them, Maki’s a bit more subdued but Runa’s bright as she waves. At the mention of Riki, your eyes scan the field for a glimpse of his number. The players are still warming up, running drills and shouting plays back and forth.

And then you see him.

Riki stands near the goalpost, casually balancing his stick across his shoulders as he chats with a teammate. Even in the midst of the pregame chaos, he moves with the same effortless confidence that always draws attention, his tall frame impossible to miss.

The sight of him stirs something unfamiliar and electric in your chest. It’s not the usual comfort you’ve come to associate with him—it’s sharper, more restless, like an itch you can’t quite get to.

You tear your gaze away from him when you hear your name called once again, finding Gaeul quickly climbing the steps of the bleachers to get to you, her free gloved hand catching your arm happily, “I was hoping you’d be here!”

You smile, part of you relieved that she isn’t acting differently despite everything, and your eyes fall on the poster board in her other hand, “Is that for Jay?”

She follows your gaze and nods, unrolling it to reveal ‘Go Jay!’ with a big 19 under it, which you assume is his jersey number. The dark red sweatshirt under her puffer reads the same number as well. “Cute, right?”

“Very cute.” You reply with a soft laugh, smoothing a crease from the corner of the poster board as you add, “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“He better,” Gaeul huffs in a mock seriousness, “M’freezing my ass off for him.”

Mrs. Nishimura, who seems to have been listening in from her spot beside you, chimes in with a knowing smile, “He still insists you come to every game?”

You momentary confusion is quickly shaken off as you remind yourself that Gaeul and Jay have been dating since sophomore year, of course Riki’s mom knows her, and the girl in question nods fondly, “He says I’m his good luck charm—“ She gasps, and you blink, “—I forgot to kiss him before I left earlier!”

Your brief panic induced by her gasp subsides as you giggle softly, “Oh, no!”

She playfully smacks your arm and grabs it, “You’re coming with me for that.”

Your laughter doesn’t subside, only grows, as she motions to the Nishimura’s that you’ll ‘be right back’ and begins tugging you along down the bleachers, “Where are we going?”

“To kiss my man.” She answers, but pauses in her step to look at you and clarify, “I’m kissing him, you…can kiss Riki.”

“I will not be doing that, but I respect the effort.”

She groans melodramatically as the both of you continue walking down the bleachers, “Aww, c’mon, you guys were so cute together!”

You thank the lord that it’s too loud for Rin and her daughters to hear the girl from this distance, both for your sake and Riki’s, but laugh softly, “I don’t think kissing him a week after breaking his heart is the right move to get him back.”

Gaeul pauses on the last step to look at you with an unhinged jaw as soon as you realize your mistake, opening your mouth to deny before the accusations leave her pink lips, “You want him back?” 

Her words are shrill with excitement and you have the sudden urge to shrink into nothingness as you hover a cold shivering hand over her mouth and avoid the gazes of those around you both, “Bitch, shut up!”

She flattens her lips in an attempt to compose herself but fails to muffle the excited squeal and bounce of her gait as she tugs you down the side steps of the bleachers to get to the field.

The lacrosse field feels bigger up close, the expanse of frosted grass sprawling out under the big lights on either side of it. Gaeul marches ahead with purpose, her poster now tucked under her arm as she scans for Jay. You lag behind slightly, your thoughts still buzzing from the last few minutes.

“Gaeul, slow down,” you mutter, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself as the cold nips at your ears.

She ignores you, her focus locked on a cluster of players by the bench. You spot Jay among them, laughing at something one of his teammates says. Gaeul picks up her pace, her excitement palpable, leaving you to follow at a more hesitant shuffle.

You scan the group of players, not recognizing any of them as Riki. When you do find him, you exhale heavily at the sight of him deep in conversation with Jungkook, the coach clearly getting on his ass for something.

“Hey there,” a voice calls out, smooth and laced with a confidence that plants a murky feeling in your gut. You glance up to see a guy in a YG Pirates jersey standing in front of you, his helmet tucked under his arm and a cocky grin on his face. 32 is bold and dark green on his chest.

“Lost, sweetheart?” he asks, his tone dripping with mock concern.

You take a step back instinctively, your eyes narrowing. “Do I know you?”

He raises a brow, his grin widening as if you’ve said something amusing. “Feisty, huh? Just my type.”

Your stomach twists at his boldness, irritation bubbling under your skin. You glance over his shoulder, hoping to spot Gaeul, but she’s already halfway to Jay, oblivious to your predicament. “Ew,” you blanch curtly, trying to sidestep him, but he shifts to block your path again.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he presses, leaning in slightly. “I’m just trying to be friendly. What’s your name?”

Before you can muster a surely bitchy reply—or a curse—a presence appears behind you.

“I don’t think this is your side of the field,” a familiar voice cuts in, light yet edged with authority. You glance up to see Heeseung standing at your side now, his lacrosse stick casually balanced over his shoulder, his expression calm but his gaze sharp. “Can’t you tell by the colors, dude?”

The opposing player stiffens slightly, his grin faltering as he sizes up Heeseung. “Just talkin’, man,” he mutters, his tone defensive now.

Heeseung doesn’t flinch, his smile remaining intact as he tilts his head slightly. “Right. And now you’re done.”

The player hesitates for a moment before shrugging and backing away, muttering something under his breath as he turns and jogs off. Once he’s gone, Heeseung turns to you, his easy smile returning. “You good?”

You refuse to utter ‘that was hot,’ so you settle for a, “Yeah. Thanks for that, though.”

Heeseung shakes his head, “Nah, you had that handled.”

You barely miss a beat with your response, “Yeah, but it was sweet of you.”

He shrugs with his hand up and that same grin, “What can I say?”

You make a face, “Not that.“

He goes to defend himself, but Gaeul appears with smeared lipgloss and a pretty grin to happily say, “Coach is kicking us off the field.”

“Joyful.” You say with a playfully stiff smile that has Heeseung whining. A soft giggle from you has his frown turning into a grin again and he shoots you a salute.

“I’ll tell Riki you wished him good luck, ma’am.”

“Don’t get concussed, say that too.” You call back as Gaeul tugs you back toward the bleachers, poster under her arm creased. She’s beaming, and you giggle at her glowing smile, “I think I know what you and Jay got up to while I was harassed.”

Her smile drops as she gasps with concern, “Harassed? What happened?” 

“It’s not that serious.” You quickly assure her, “Heeseung kinda scared him off, he was a guy on the YG team.”

“Ew.” She makes a face as you both arrive at the bleachers, and you nod.

“That’s what I said.” 

As you both arrive back to your seats, and you gasp and happily accept a hot chocolate Rin had thoughtfully gotten for you with a sweet side hug. God you hope Riki still wants you and you can keep this saint of a woman in your life.

As if on cue, the referee blows a sharp whistle, and the players jog to their respective side of the field. Riki is dismissed by Jungkook and pulls his helmet from under his arm as the other members of the team crowd around the coach, his head turning just enough to scan the bleachers.

Your heart skips as his gaze locks onto yours for a fleeting moment.

He doesn’t smile, not exactly—but his expression softens, his eyes warming like he’s relieved to see you there. The corner of his mouth twitches just enough to feel like a secret, like something meant only for you.

And then he pulls his helmet over his head and focuses on Jungkook’s words, it almost feels like a shock to your system but the lingering warmth in your chest makes it hard to feel the cold anymore.

You watch the team huddle, Jungkook’s game face amusing enough to you that you snicker softly before your attention falls back to Riki. Heeseung, who if your memory serves you right is 01, catches Riki’s shoulder in a brotherly way. 

Your brows furrow as you see Riki’s head tilt slightly at what Heeseung says, glancing in your direction and then the opposing teams, and you assume his eyes search for a jersey that reads 32.

The players move onto the field with another whistle, and you watch with dread as two opposing jerseys approach the center of the field. 10 and 32.

Now, you know very little about lacrosse despite it being your school’s biggest sport and your brother playing it, but you know that Riki is a midfielder. You know this through his excited play-by-plays of practice to you on the phone whenever he was finally out, as well as the basic knowledge of how a lacrosse game starts. Two midfielders wrestling for the ball. 

It couldn’t be called wrestling, however. Riki swipes it barely millisecond after the ref blows his whistle, tossing the ball to 05. 

You gasp softly as his shoulder slams into 32s chest hard enough to send him stumbling back, but his body moves quickly toward the opposing defense and away from the startled enemy. If you didn’t know any better you’d assume he was only doing so to keep him off Jake’s back. “Geez, what did you feed him?”

You ask Rin softly, eyes trained on her son and your brain attempting to wrap itself around the difference in his body language and…aggression on-field, when he had barely risen above a loud speaking volume in your presence. She chuckles, “Would you believe me if I said his diet largely consisted of taiyaki and ramen growing up?”

“No.” You awe at her words, eyes still on him but flitting to meet hers for a brief second, “That’s just unfair.”

“Tell me about it,” The elder of his sisters huffs, “I ate my vegetables and have glasses an inch thick, but he gets to eat sweets all his life and has perfect vision.”

“That’s your fathers genetics, not mine.” Rin clarifies, offering you an explanation like it’s second nature already, “That man can’t see something coming straight at his face until it’s already hit him.”

“My brother has horrible vision, too.” You snicker softly, your eyes rarely leaving Riki but only doing so to look between the three Nishimuras, “Refused to wear contacts, even for lacrosse.” You motion in the general direction of the field, and the older woman seems intrigued.

“Your brother plays?”

You shake your head with a soft laugh at your brother’s expense, “Not since highschool, and he was benched most games because he couldn’t see the ball,” your words have Rin laughing and Maki snorting, “plus he generally sucked. He really only joined because his friend was on the team.”

Jake scores a goal and the crowd around you goes wild with cheers, mainly higher in pitch. You let out a supportive cheer and immediately act like you didn’t when his helmeted head turns your way. You’re almost positive a shit-eating grin has formed behind his helmet.

The game continues, the scoreboard leaning toward Decelis’ victory as the first two quarters come to a close and half-time ensues. 

“No.” You reject Gaeul’s suggestion almost as soon as it leaves her mouth.

“Aww, c’mon!” She whines, tugging your arm closest to her, “His face would be so funny!”

“He’s wearing a helmet, you can’t see his face. And it’s small enough for you to hold up by yourself.” You point at the poster-board in his hands, which she had happily held up for a good portion of the game until her arms got tired.

“But my arms are gonna fall off.” She groans melodramatically, “Please?”

“Buy me another cocoa and I’ll think about it.”

As half-time comes to a close, your right arm is screaming for relief while you hold your side of the poster up and nurse a cup of steaming cocoa in the other hand. Gaeul shamelessly screams in support of her boyfriend, who you see hunch over slightly like he’s holding back laughter of amusement.

Your hand feels like it’s about to fall off, and you curse yourself for refusing the mittens Eunchae had offered in favor of showing off your new nails. ‘They’re too pretty to cover up,’ you had whined, yet now you wouldn’t be surprised if your fingers started breaking off like a vampire’s from Twilight.

The scoreboard reads heavily in the home team’s favor, and you pray to every deity that the game finally ends for your arm’s sake (and your crippling anxiety). Though, watching Riki slice through YG’s defense and score points like they're nothing doesn’t look like it’ll be getting old for you anytime soon. 

“You’re drooling.” Gaeul teases as you suck in a sharp breath at the sight of Riki once again shoulder 32 off balance, hard enough for him to fall onto his ass this time. Tensions are high as the time counts down, though part of you’s hoping this never ends. 

“I don’t drool.” You retort in a soft grumble, yet you rub the side of your wrist over the corners of your mouth self-consciously. “I’m a fucking lady.”

“Right…” Gaeul agrees with playful doubt in her tone that’s punctuated by giggles as you playfully shove her shoulder.

The final whistle slices through the winter air as Riki launches the ball into the goal, accompanied by an uproar of cheers and groans from the crowd. Decelis has won, 12-7, the scoreboard glowing with the decisive win. The players pour onto the field, some celebrating, others trudging off in defeat. Your eyes dart instinctively toward Riki, helmet under his arm, hair damp with sweat as he exchanges fist bumps and quick words with his teammates. The way his expression softens to a grin when Jake slings an arm around his shoulders makes your stomach twist.

You clutch your empty cocoa cup, suddenly desperate to find a reason to approach him. Before you can muster up a plan, the chaos swallows him—players crowding, parents flooding in from the sidelines, and Gaeul’s excited tug on your sleeve pulling you back to the moment.

“Let’s go find Jay!” she beams, and you immediately look toward Rin, Maki, and Runa.

The woman smiles warmly and pats your shoulder, “We always wait in the parking lot for him. You two can have a moment.”

Gaeul is dragging you down the bleachers the moment you softly thank the woman. Your heart thrums as you scan the chaos for Riki, but he’s nowhere to be found. Gaeul bounces ahead, her attention locked on her boyfriend. 

Her hand slips from your arm as you’re both swept into the excitement, and her curls disappear in the crowd. 

The field feels like a warzone, buzzing with shouts, laughter, and the rhythmic stomp of cleats against frozen grass. You’re jostled in every direction, bodies pressing and colliding as parents swarm to congratulate their kids, and the players themselves disappear into the fray. Your fingers curl around the half-empty cocoa cup as if it might ground you, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Where is he?

You catch glimpses of Riki’s teammates—Jake’s unmistakable blonde head bobbing as he jokes with Heeseung, Sunghoon hoisted onto someone’s shoulders—but Riki remains elusive, swallowed by the tide of bodies.

“Riki!” His name slips out, barely audible over the noise, and you feel a flush creep up your neck. What are you even doing? Someone brushes past you, hard enough to make you stumble. “Watch it,” you mutter, turning to see a player in a YG jersey, helmet off and grin too familiar.

32.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just gives you a once-over that makes your skin crawl. His shoulder brushes yours again as he angles toward you, his smirk sharper now. “Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he drawls, voice low enough that it’s almost lost in the noise.

You make a face of disdain, like speaking to him both disgusts you and is beneath you, “Is that supposed to be cute?”

“C’mon,” He says, tone dripping with what you assume is his attempt at charm, “Don’t be like that. You’ve been watchin’ me the whole game.”

“I don’t even know you.” You respond with the same look on your face that reads you’d rather be anywhere else than where you are, listening to him.

He steps closer, undeterred by your tone and clear disgust, “That can be remedied,” His voice is low, and you see his hand move from his side to reach for your waist.

Your anger takes over your motor control, and the half-empty, long chilled cocoa in your hand splatters over the front of his jersey, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

The cocoa splashes onto his jersey in a satisfying arc, the dark liquid seeping into the white fabric. His grin falters for a moment, replaced by a stunned look that quickly twists into irritation. “Are you fucking serious?” he snaps, brushing at the stain, but it’s a futile effort.

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious,” You retort, mirroring his tone, “Who the fuck told you that you could fucking touch me?” 

The players around you have started to notice the commotion, a few stopping to watch as Number 32 bites back, “You’re not even worth half of what that bitch offered me.”

If what boiled within you was anger, then what it morphs into at the player’s statement must be seething fury, “Excuse me?”

“What’s goin’ on here?” A hand clasps over your shoulder but the voice calms any volatile reaction brewing in your gut, Jungkook stepping between you and the YG player.

Jungkook’s presence immediately shifts the energy around you. His broad frame looms between you and Number 32, the way his body blocks out the other player like a wall of stone, calm yet unyielding. The cocky grin fades from the YG player’s face as he holds up his hands in mock surrender, shooting a glare at Jungkook.

Jungkook doesn’t even glance at the YG player, his focus entirely on you as he steps closer, his gaze softening slightly when he sees the tension in your shoulders and the shift in your jaw. “You okay?” he asks, his voice surprisingly gentle in the midst of the chaos.

You nod, even though the heat of anger still lingers in your chest. “I’m fine,” you say, but your voice shakes just enough that Jungkook catches it.

His eyes flick briefly to the YG player, who’s clearly not in the mood to test Jungkook’s patience any further. “Walk with me,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. You want to protest, to stay and search for Riki, but something about the way Jungkook stands there—tall, unshakable—tells you it’s not worth resisting.

He guides you through the crowd and off the field with his hands on your shoulders. When the two of you arrive at the edge of the field where the bleachers drop off and the parking lot comes into view, he releases you. “Do I need to go talk to that kid’s coach? Or parents?”

“No, I think the shit-colored stain on his jersey says enough.” You retort swiftly, the implications of his words stick with you, though. ‘You’re not even worth half of what that bitch offered me.’

It isn’t as if you woke up yesterday, you know he’s talking about Nayeon. Whether it be some kind of intuition or you’re just that fucking familiar with her thought process from years of what you had thought was friendship, you know it. 

“Hey.” Jungkook’s gruff but somewhat gentle call snaps you out of your stewing, and you blink at him, “Don’t do anything I’m gonna hear about, okay?”

Your immature response is interrupted by the loud cheers and chatter morphing into shouts and hollers of a more alarmed tone that has the both of you looking in the direction of the field. Jungkook doesn't seem eager to let you involve yourself in whatever it is that’s going down on the field, you know this because he’s shooing you off toward your car in a dismissive but authoritative tone. 

If you cared at all about anything except beating Nayeon’s face in at the moment you would be protesting and following after him as he jogs toward the commotion, but you don’t. Instead, you walk to your car, toss your Prada bag into the passenger seat as it begins to warm up, and plot.

Watching your friend group’s grins fall while learning that you did not, in fact, kiss Riki after the game but left without even speaking to him in a fit of blind rage was not how you wanted to start your weekend. You blame their soured moods for the fact that all four of them were avidly against your plan to beat Nayeon’s face in the next time you see her, but begrudgingly decided to not jump to conclusions.

The only proof you have that Nayeon was the one to sic that cretin on you may be his words, which aren’t worth much, but you refuse to believe anything else.

Monday arrives with not a singular text or call from Riki, and while Belle has already talked you off of the metaphorical ledge about it, you feel the urge to disappear off the face of the Earth every time you imagine seeing him again after leaving the game he asked you to attend without so much as a word.

Part of you figures the silence on his end is payback, or him deciding to finally let his alleged crush on you go. The other part of you really hopes he was just busy.

Jake is…silent in your second period. Not that you’d mind the silence on any other day, but it’s definitely not normal. Well, he’s silent until he catches sight of the charm bracelet on your wrist as it clinks softly on the desk. His grin is back in seconds and he takes his phone out.

“Want a picture?” You offer sarcastically. When Jake eagerly nods and holds his phone up for the picture, you shoot it a mock smile and manicured middle finger as your charm bracelet catches the light above.

With giddy giggles, Jake takes the photo and practically bounces in his seat in joy as he taps his thumbs on his screen hastily. You’re rolling your eyes and looking down at your worksheet when he asks, “Wanna know who I’m texting?”

“If I wanted to know I’d ask.” You respond swiftly, tapping the eraser-end of your pencil on the desk absentmindedly.

“It’s Riki.” He states with a smugness that pisses you off.

Looking up from the paper, you raise your brows, “Okay?”

“He needed proof,” He adds on with his arms crossed as he leans back in his seat, “Wanna know why?”

“I feel like you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

He’s still smirking as he proves you right, “He thinks you hate him.”

You blink, annoyed nonchalance pushed aside by genuine confusion, “Why would he think that?”

Jake shrugs, though his face seems anything but clueless and you hate that he knows more than you do, “Maybe ‘cause you left the game without saying anything to him.”

“Jungkook made me get off the field.” 

“You could’ve waited with his family in the parking lot.”

“Well, I didn’t.” You snap, growing frustrated with the conversation despite it being your own damn fault, “Why are you telling me this, Jake?”

“‘Cause he’s my friend and he’s been miserable.”

“Then he should talk to me.” You retort with a sigh, guilt filling your gut despite your defensive words, and he tilts his head with a nod of agreement, “If I hated him he’d know. I don’t exactly keep that shit a secret.”

Jake, who had bore witness to your fight with Jaclyn Delvacchio in junior year, hums, “Well, can you do us all a favor and talk to him, please?”

“We have fifth period, I’m not gonna ignore him for an hour when he sits next to me.” You roll your eyes and focus back down at your worksheet.

By the time the bell rings, you’re halfway between plotting your own demise and debating if you should actually try to talk to Riki. The idea makes your stomach twist. What if Jake was wrong, and Riki doesn’t want to hear from you? What if your silence solidified something in him—pushed him away for good?

But then you remember how he smiled at you that day in the hallway, the soft tug of his lips like he couldn’t stop himself, and how his eyes lit up when you agreed to come to the bowling date. You remember the way his voice faltered ever-so-slightly when he asked you, like he was bracing himself for rejection but couldn’t bear not to try.

The thought makes your stomach hurt and your chest heavy, and you realize something that makes you want to kick yourself: you don’t want to lose that. You don’t want to lose him.

Yet, you so easily brushed him aside in your list of priorities to stew in your anger about someone who shouldn’t even be a thought in your mind at this point. 

You screwed up. Again. 

At this point, you feel like you’re winning the losing game. Not only do you hate losing, but you hate the feeling in your chest and gut that makes you want to go home and rot until Riki forgets you ever existed. Belle’s voice screams in your head to talk to him, to make the effort to speak to him and throw away your pride.

So, instead of staying in your old Latin teacher’s class for fourth period grading papers, you persuade her to let you spend your fourth period ‘at lunch with your friends’. 

Your friends all share the same lunch period; sixth, when you’ve already gone home. So you lied, yes.

But Riki has fourth period lunch.

You slip through the cafeteria doors, the clang of trays and the murmur of conversation fading as you scan the room for him. The place is packed, and your heart beats louder than the chatter around you. It’s ridiculous—Riki isn’t hard to find. But your anxiety builds anyway, sending a slight tremble through your hands.

You spot him by the window, his profile framed by sunlight, his usual quiet demeanor marking him as an island in the chaos of the cafeteria. His friends surround him, but they’re not your focus. Your eyes zero in on him, his long sleeves pulled up to his elbows, his hair messy and covering his forehead like he didn’t feel like styling it this morning, the rings on his hands that glint in the cafeteria light.

But before you can make your way over, the sound of a voice you loathe cuts through the air, sharper than glass.

“A couple hundred bucks and he was practically my dog.” Nayeon muses at the two girls you barely recognize that sit across from her at a table not far from you, “Sucks that he failed, though. Would have spent my money on someone else.”

“So you…had him hit on her?” The girl on the left asks, a bit confused as she exchanges a look with the girl beside her.

Nayeon seems eager to relay the details, “I told him she liked playing hard to get,” She shrugs disinterested, yet you see a sliver of the smirk on her face from your angle, “made him all the more eager to knock her down a peg.”

The two girls seem peeved by what she says, like any sane person would be, but anything either wants to say dies on their tongue as they catch sight of you. “Girl…”

One trails off as you begin your approach, the same lightness in your gut that has your vision clouded with seething fury.

She looks over her shoulder just enough for you to see her smirk drop into wide-eyed fear.

Your hand catches the back of her head, slamming the side of her face into the table with little care for the eyes that immediately find you, “Sorry, I didn’t hear you, bitch. What was that?” There’s ‘ooo’s and ‘oh shit’s from the wuickly forming crowd as you pull her up by her hair, launching the flailing girl onto the ground. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

She scrambles off the ground, immediately getting in your face as she hisses, “You don’t deserve him.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” You curse as your hand meets her face, and she shrieks as her head snaps to side. 

Nayeon recoils for a moment, eyes wide with shock, but the anger on her face quickly replaces any hesitation. "You think I'm scared of you?" She spits, moving toward you with a snarl. She may not have expected this, but now that it's happening, she seems desperate to prove herself.

Grabbing her by the shoulders, you shove her into one of the metal chairs, the clattering sound of it screeching across the floor as she stumbles backward. The two girls hasten to get out of the way, faces a mix of fear and ‘oh shit’. 

Nayeon picks herself up with blind fury guiding her actions, hands flying out as she lunges forward to shove you back. Your hands grasp her hair again, and the crowd surrounding the scene roars.

Her nails claw at your wrist as you yank her forward. She’s small, but her anger makes her stronger than she has any right to be. The fight is a mess of hair pulling and shoving, curses from you and shrieks from her.

You shove her hard into the table again, the force sending a tray of half-eaten food crashing to the floor, and the crowd goes wild, hooting and cheering. The heat in your chest ignites with every movement. The adrenaline rush is undeniable.

Nayeon's attempts to push you back only seem to fuel your anger further. Her breath is ragged, and you can practically taste the bitterness she's been carrying since the moment you stepped into her world. Every movement of hers is desperate, like she's trying to claw her way back to a victory she's long since lost.

"Get the fuck off me!" she yells, her voice barely audible over the chaos. But you don't listen. You slam her against the chair again, hard enough that she falls onto her ass, eyes wide with disbelief. Nayeon's face contorts in pure anger as you approach again, her hands flying up in a futile attempt to strike you. Her nails scratch at your arms, but the pain barely registers.

But then, someone grabs your waist, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. The world tilts as you're pulled off of Nayeon, feet leaving the ground. For the split second that you’re struggling against them, thinking it’s one of her friends or a teacher, you curse at them too.

Then the cologne hits your nose and the voice hits your ears, “Alright, that’s enough, pretty girl.”

Your heart stutters in your chest as Riki’s voice cuts through the frenzy, low and soft in your ear, but with a sharp edge of firmness that you’ve never heard from him before. His grip on you doesn’t waver, and despite the anger still coursing through your veins, you freeze for a second, thrown off by the ease he had pulling you off of that traitorous bitch—who’s being held back by Jake and Jungwon.

“Skank!” Nayeon shrieks, clawing at Jake and Jungwon’s arms that keep her from lunging at you again.

Any calm that Riki’s presence brought you is washed away, but he pulls you back by the waist as you move to have a go at Nayeon again. His arms wrapping around you to keep your arms at your sides as you bite back,  “Says you, bitch.”

“Easy, easy,” He eases, your back hitting his chest as your jerky and angry movements force him to pick you up again, “Cool it, baby. You got her good.”

“Get her out of here before the teachers get here,” Heeseung orders in a hushed tone as the other members of the lacrosse team grab at phones and shove the crowd back.

“I’m not—hey!” Your defiant statement is interrupted by the arm around your waist tightening and your feet lifting off the floor once more. “Riki!”

“I know, I know.” Riki’s hold is firm as you struggle weakly against him, his voice deep and low like he’s easing a wild animal, his touch warm. You can’t bring yourself to fight back the way you did with Nayeon as he walks you out of the cafeteria building. His presence, the warmth of his chest against your back, it all has your defense mechanisms easing up and your anger softening to a low simmer.

When he finally sets you back down, the cool chill of the air eased only by the sunlight hitting the two of you, you turn to face him with a charged glare, “I can walk.”

He holds his hands up in good faith, or maybe an attempt to calm you down, “I know, baby.”

“And she deserved that.”

“I know, baby.”

The way he repeats himself so softly, how he’s letting you take out the remnants of your anger on him, it only makes the ache in your chest worsen. You exhale sharply, “Stop that.”

“Okay.” He says, voice soft but no pain or hurt to be detected in his voice, only in his eyes.

Your own sting almost automatically with both frustration and anger at yourself and no one else, “No, not—“ Taking a deep breath, your hands move to your face, “This is all wrong.”

“What is?” You try not to notice how he doesn’t attach ‘pretty girl’ or ‘baby’ to the end of his question. You fail.

“Everything.” You mutter, exhaling another soft, “Fuck.”

“You’re bleeding.” He points out, his hands pulling yours from your face to examine the scratches up your arms. 

“Nails are intact, though.” You mumble softly, trying to make yourself feel better. Riki looks at you in slight disapproval, brows furrowing, and you add, “I’m okay.”

He sighs, shaking his head, “There’s a first-aid kit in the locker room, let me clean you up.”

“Ew, I’m not going into the boys locker room.” You reject his offer with an obstinance that would usually amuse him, yet he shows a sliver of frustration in his body language. “And I told you, I’m fine.”

“Okay, you can either walk or I can carry you.”

“As if.” 

Your challenge is met with him raising his eyebrows and lunging for you a second later. You flinch and swat at his hands, “Okay, fine!” He pulls back again with a ‘that’s what i thought’ look, “I’ll walk.” you add with a defiant ‘hmph’ as you walk past him.

He doesn’t press the issue, following you towards the athletics building and holding the door open for you to enter first, to your utter fury of course. Stupid boys. Stupid emotions.

When you find the boys locker room, you pause as he pushes the door open, “I’m not going in there.”

He sighs with a nod like he expected as such, “I’ll be right back, stay here.”   

You sigh and cross your arms, rolling your eyes and leaning back against the wall across the locker room entrance.

Riki returns with a first aid kit and his hoodie, “Let’s go to the bleachers, no one’s got practice today.” You assume the hoodie is for you, and you’re proved correct when he tosses it into your face and snickers when you curse at him. “C’mon.”

You begrudgingly walk with him out of the athletics building to the school field not a far walk from the entrance. 

You hear the bell ring from where you sit on the bleachers minutes later as your chilled fingers are tended to by the lacrosse player, “You’ll be late, you know.”

“We’ll both be. It’s fifth period now.” He states as he delicately cleans the raw skin streaking up your wrist with an alcohol wipe.

“Ow.” You mumble, and he tsks with a growing smile.

“Don’t be a baby.” He teases, and you mock his words in a higher pitched voice back to him.

“Fuck you.”

He snickers softly, gently rotating your hand in his to clean the visible lines tainting the delicate flesh, “Baby.”

His statement isn’t the beckon or fond coo you wish it’d be, but it causes flutters in your gut all the same. You mock him again and he huffs softly in amusement, refraining from continuing the back and forth to focus on your scratched up wrists and forearms. 

As he moves to your right hand, his touch lingers on the charm bracelet hanging off your wrist as he dabs at the skin. The metal chain catches the sunlight, twinkling faintly against your wrist as Riki pauses. His thumb brushes over one of the charms absentmindedly before he speaks, voice softer than you expected. “You’re wearing it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you reply, trying to sound casual despite the way your pulse stutters. His touch, even as fleeting as it is, sends a warm shiver through you.

“I just…” he trails off, dark eyes flicking up to meet yours briefly, his gaze filled with something tender. “I wasn’t sure if it was your style.”

“Why’s that?” You ask with a slight furrow of your brows, and he snickers softly.

“I’m sure it’s not the luxury you’re accustomed to.” 

“Everything I wear isn’t expensive. I’m not a snob.” You huff in slight offense, though he finds it amusing.

“Never said you were a snob, princess.” He clarifies, discarding the alcohol wipe to grab the ointment from the kit, “Nothing wrong with being spoiled.”

“I’m not—“ you go to argue, but the amusement on his face has the words dying on your tongue as you look away from him, “You’re such an ass.”

“Aww, I’m wounded.” He pouts softly, before it turns into that pretty smile again and he laughs softly, “It looks good on you.”

It takes a half-second for you to remember he’s talking about the bracelet, and your instinctive reply comes in the form of a weak, “Fuck off.”

His head falls forward as he laughs at your weakly aggressive statement. His touch is still gentle as he continues, hands unbelievably warm around yours. How unfair.

“Your hands are freezing.” He states softly, tube of ointment placed aside in favor of engulfing your hands in his. You watch him rub at them, your nails clicking against his rings with every movement until they catch his attention, “These are nice.”

“I know.”

He huffs in amusement, biting his bottom lip before he says, “‘Course you do.”

The tension between the two of you shifts, delicate and tenuous, like a thread stretched too tight. Riki’s touch is warm and steady, and you hate how easy it would be to let yourself relax into it. His thumbs keep brushing over your knuckles, slow and deliberate, and your chest tightens with every pass.

You clear your throat, trying to focus anywhere but his hands, but when you look up, his gaze is already on you. It’s not intense, exactly. Not piercing or overwhelming. Just…soft. Patient, even. The kind of look that has your fight or flight instincts kicking in to protect the 

“What?” you snap, defensive and unsure, your voice sharper than you mean for it to be. You regret it instantly when his brow furrows slightly, though his hands don’t pull away.

“Nothing,” he replies softly, his voice steady. “Just glad you’re okay.”

The simplicity of it almost knocks the wind out of you. You blink, trying to find a reply that won’t give you away, but the words stick in your throat. All you can manage is a mumbled, “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone carrying a gentleness that makes you ache. “But I worry about you anyway.”

You don’t know what to do with that—how to handle the sincerity in his voice or the way his touch lingers like he’s afraid to let go. It feels like too much and not enough all at once.

“You shouldn’t,” you mutter, trying to pull your hands back, but he holds them lightly, just enough to keep you there without forcing you.

“Can’t really help it, pretty girl.” His lips curve into a faint smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Especially when you’re getting into fights.”

Your stomach twists, a cocktail of guilt and frustration bubbling to the surface. You want to tell him it wasn’t just a fight. That it was Nayeon, that she deserved it, that you were defending yourself in more ways than one. But that isn’t the truth, is it? Not really.

“I—” You start, then stop, swallowing down the lump rising in your throat. “I don’t—” Your voice wavers, and you hate it. “Riki, I can’t—I’m not good at this.”

“At what?” his hands grasp yours tighter as he leans forward with his gaze so…so attentive. 

“This.” You motion vaguely between the two of you, trying to not cry in front of him. You’re failing horribly. “Us. You. Me. God, fuck.”

“Talk to me, pretty girl.” He pleas softly, and your chest feels as warm as your hands are in his.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” You exhale, head dropping back in an attempt to keep your frustrated tears from falling, “And I keep fucking up everything good in my life, and I just—“

His neck cranes slightly to meet your gaze as you avert it to his hands around yours, waiting for you to continue. Listening.

You take a deep breath, “I like you, I really do,” his thumbs slow to a stop against your knuckles, but you don’t look at him, “and you’re so—perfect and I’m not—“

“Don’t say that—“

“I’m not.” You insist, and one of his hands moves to your cheek as you continue, thumb gently wiping away a stray tear, “I’m…messy and mean-“

“I don’t care about that.” He argues gently, but you’re not done.

“-and I can’t even handle my own shit in a mature way so why should I be able to give you anything better—“

You don’t get to finish as his lips press against yours, cutting off your spiraling words with a kiss so sudden and deliberate it steals every thought from your head. 

His hand on your cheek tilts your head up toward him, his other remains holding yours. It’s not a hesitant kiss. There’s nothing unsure or tentative about it, not like the first one he gave you. He isn’t suffocating you, or doing anything more than moving his lips against yours like it’s all he’s wanted to do for years but knows to take his time savoring it instead of rushing in with teeth and tongue.

All you know is that you’re leaning into him, your anger, frustration, and self-doubt melting away under the weight of his touch. It’s a good kiss—better than good. It’s consuming, overwhelming, and entirely too much, yet you feel like more wouldn’t be all that bad.

When he pulls back it isn’t far, his forehead resting against yours. You’re breathless, your lips tingling in the aftermath and brain foggier than you’d like to admit. His nose brushes against your as he says, “I don’t care about any of that,” his voice is low and hoarse, “I just want you.”

You exhale shakily, feeling his words hit you lips, “Riki—“ 

“I’ll wait.” He promises softly, a hint of desperation in his words that has something in your gut fluttering, “However long it takes for you to be ready, I’ll wait.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you shake your head weakly, looking down at your lap. “That’s not fair to you.”

“I don’t care about fair, pretty girl.” He responds with a slight smile, hand moving from your cheek to tilt your chin up and make you look at him. His gaze flits between your eyes and lingers below your nose, a pattern that mirrors your own. “I can wait.”

His words are soft, spoken like an oath as his eyes find your lips again and decide to stay there a while.

“Why?” You ask, barely a whisper.

Riki lifts his gaze to look you in the eyes, a soft smile on his lips as he says, “‘Cause I like you more.”

You roll your eyes, “Is it a competition?”

He hums low, as if apprehensive, “Not much of one.” Your jaw drops slightly as if offended and he laughs softly, “I mean, I have you completely outmatched, pretty girl.”

“Oh, yeah?” You challenge with a slight laugh, “How so?”

He shifts closer as he hums again in thought, “Well, you’ve liked me for how long? A few weeks?” The question is more of a statement, and he seems unbothered by the short time-span with the smile on his face, “Yeah, I’ve got you beat.”

“You didn’t know me until recently, so it doesn’t count.” You argue with defiance, and he raises his brows.

“Are you invalidating my feelings for you right now?” He asks in a mock-offended tone, hand moving to his chest.

You scoff with playful annoyance, looking away from him briefly before your gaze finds him all over again, like a moth to a flame, “How long?”

His smile turns shier, and he chuckles awkwardly, “Nah, it’s not a competition. You’re right.”

“Nuh-uh, you started it,” You laugh, shoving his sturdy chest weakly, “C’mon, I already know. I just wanna hear it.”

Your smug words paired with the shrug you give have his eyes narrowing, “You know?”

You nod, “Jake ratted you out.” 

Riki’s eyes widen slightly and he groans, head dropping forward in embarrassment, “I’m gonna kill him.”

Riki lifts his head, still chuckling under his breath as he finally relents, “Alright, fine.” His eyes meet yours again, warm and steady, even as a blush creeps across his cheeks and ears. “Since freshman year. Happy now?”

Despite you being the one to force it out of him, you hold back the urge to giggle and turn away from him. “Very.” You answer with a slightly blissful grin on your face.

“You gonna hold that over my head?” He asks playfully, leaning closer like he wants to kiss you again.

You fight every impulse telling you to close the distance yourself, but let your eyes move between his eyes and smirking lips freely, “I might.”

“Yeah?” He jests softly. 

You hum, deciding to be a little mean. “I could also hold over your head that your mom still thinks we’re dating.”

His eyes shut and the hand creeping towards yours again freezes. His head falls forward and you panic for a moment thinking you went too far before you realize his shoulders are shaking and you can hear soft wheezing. “You’re mean.”

His muffled whine makes you snicker gleefully, and you add, “She said I’m good for you.”

You don’t realize the joy behind those words until he raises his head with a teasing but genuine (and flirty) grin on his face as he asks, “You’re happy about that, huh baby?”

You find yourself teasing him back instead of getting hostile at his flirty tone, probably due to the boost he gave your ego, “Mmm, not as happy as you seem to be with me as your girlfriend. According to your mom, anyway.”

Before he can reply, a familiar voice cuts through the moment.

“Nishimura.”

Both of you whip your heads toward the source of the sound. Standing at the bottom of the bleachers with his arms crossed and an exasperated expression is Jungkook. He’s wearing a hoodie and joggers, looking like he just came from the gym with his curls in a bun, but his sharp eyes land squarely on Riki first, then shift to you.

“What the hell are you two doing up there?” Jungkook asks, though there’s no real heat in his tone.

Riki straightens up, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Just…taking care of something, Coach.”

Jungkook’s brows rise, and he gestures toward the field. “And why aren’t you in class?”

“I—uh—” Riki stammers before Jungkook waves a hand dismissively.

“Save it. I don’t need the whole story. Just get your ass to class before I have you running suicides until next week.” His gaze softens slightly as it flicks to you. “And you? ”

You shrink a little under his stare, mumbling, “I wasn’t feeling well.”

Jungkook lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You—” He shakes his head before gesturing toward the parking lot. “Go home, kid. And no more fights, please—or distracting my team.”

“Alright, alright,” you mumble as you stand. You glance at Riki, who’s already grinning like this whole thing is hilarious, and shoot him a glare. “Stop smiling, you ass.”

Riki just snickers, his grin growing wider as he stands. “I’ll walk you to your car, pretty girl.”

Jungkook shakes his head, muttering something about teenagers and their hormones. “She can walk herself, get to class.” 

Any complaint Riki wants to make is silenced by the pointed finger Jungkook sends him, and he sighs. Your cheeks burn as he leans down to press a kiss to one of them with a soft, “See you later, pretty girl.” 

Riki averts his eyes from Jungkook’s judgmental gaze as his star midfielder jogs down the bleacher steps, offering a respectful bow of his head as he passes.

Jungkook then looks over at you, and you’re already arguing, “I have to get my bag from my locker.” 

He deadpans, clearly unimpressed as he says, “Ask one of your friends to get it for you.” 

Unable to argue with his reasoning, you let out a soft huff and begin patting your pockets for your phone. A relieved sigh escapes your gloss-smudged lips when your fingers brush against the device through a layer of fabric. Silently, you thank whichever of your spirit guides prompted you to button your back pocket before entering the cafeteria.

You suddenly remember another reason to stay a bit longer, “My keys are in my bag!”

Jungkook sighs, “If I see you in the halls in 10 minutes you’re getting banned from my field.”

You grin, bouncing down the steps with a happy, “Thanks, Coach Jeon.”

He makes a face of disgust, hand gently pushing the side of your head as you walk by, “Get out of here.”

It’s almost laughable how quickly the situation disappears, like it never happened. No one snitches—not one person. Even the crowd of students who saw everything miraculously forget when teachers start asking questions. It’s the lacrosse team who spins the story, their collective loyalty so seamless you almost believe they rehearsed it. Nayeon threw the first punch, they all swear. You didn’t fight back. You defended yourself.

The only video evidence of the fight are clips of Nayeon lunging for you and blurry photos, another thing you’re sure the lacrosse team took care of, so the school really have nothing to go off of. By the time the dust settles, it’s like the cafeteria incident is just another school rumor, one of those things everyone knows happened yet every retelling of events sounds skewed in some way.

Your mother hadn’t been informed by the school of the issue, thankfully, but you had endured a scathing voicemail from your father about the ‘stunt’ you pulled with Eunseok’s ‘bright and good’ girlfriend while eating Chinese takeout with Belle Tuesday night. She sat there munching on an eggroll and snatching small pieces of your sweet-fire chicken while your father’s angry ramble drew on and on for a few long minutes before he ended it with a, ‘call me back.’ The laughing fit you and Belle had over that one has become a bit of an inside joke now.

Thursday evening finds you in the kitchen of your home following your Aunt’s slutty brownie recipe with Riki on FaceTime propped up against the egg carton. “Butter, butter, butter…” You mumble to yourself as you reach for the ingredient, making a face as some of the softened dairy gets on your thumb. Riki, who had been silently observing you through the screen, snickers softly. You send a pointed look to the camera, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“M’not, you're just cute.”

“Fuck you.” You lose the fight against the smile forming on your face as you unfold the waxy wrapping of the butter and tip it into the mixing bowl, “I’m always cute.”

He only hums low with that same smirk on his face as he rests his chin on his arm, watching you switch on the mixer and grab a brownie pan from the cabinet beside the stove. A beat passes and he asks, “You don’t have to, you know?”

You glance away from pressing your knuckles into the cookie dough to flatten it along the bottom of the greased pan, “I know, but I don’t want your friends to have anything over me.”

Your joke is received with a soft laugh, “I wouldn’t let them hold it over you.”

“While I would like to see that, this is much easier.” You dismiss as you move to the sink to wash your hands and grab the pack of oreos. “Plus, Jungkook loves slutty brownies so maybe he’ll take the stick out of his ass if he gets one.”

Riki snorts softly on the other end, his bangs messily covering his forehead and eyes, “It’s game day, I don’t think the stick will come out.”

You hum in defeat, shrugging slightly as you begin to place the layer of oreos into the pan, “A sweet treat for good graces then.” 

Once you finish the layer of oreos, pour the brownie batter over it, and stick it in the oven, you sigh loudly. Fanning yourself and pulling your hair off your neck as you move toward your phone to grab it. “Jesus Christ, it’s hot.”

“It’s 30° outside.” 

“I’m not outside, I’m inside.” You sass with a ‘duh’ look on your face as you hold the phone angled up at your face as you walk toward the living room. “And how dare you try to contradict me.”

“Sorry, pretty girl. It won’t happen again.” He responds after a light chuckle.

You feign another roll of your eyes as you fail to fight the smile growing on your lips once again. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

The next morning, you arrive at school earlier than you’d like—especially with how fucking cold it is. Still, you look cute and feel it too, with a new lip gloss on your lips and a pair of pearls on your ears to match the ones on your eyes.

Exiting your car, you hasten your trek to the field. The bags rustle at your sides as you chant a soft tune of “I’m so fucking cold” under your breath. Your hands are, once again, not protected by gloves as you so vehemently refuse to cover up Julie’s masterpiece. She was very pleased that her hard work stayed intact during the fight, but recommended you treat your hands with care if you want them to last as long as they usually do. 

Jungkook notices your approach, tipped off by the high-pitched shiver that escapes your lips as you finally arrive on the field—a sound that doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team either. They seem to all slowly get distracted by your figure’s approach, eyes drawn to either the bags at your sides or cute way you’re walking in the cold.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook snaps in annoyance, his tone almost dismissive.

“Jesus Christ, this violates the Geneva Conventions in some way, I'm sure.” You huff softly, holding up the bags as you arrive at his side, “I made slutty brownies.”

Jungkook’s frown softens as the team parrots your words hopefully, and he then barks, “Single file, maggots.”

You’re almost too cold to enjoy the spectacle the team provides racing to get first in line, yet keeping a respectful distance ahead of you. You snicker softly as you set the bags down, bending with a shiver to grab them to pass out before the one in front of the line protests. 

“You’re cold?” Kai asks with worry from the front of the line, and the one behind him, Taehyun, steps out of line with his arms held out.

“I’ll pass them out, you need to warm up.” He fusses with a slight scolding tone, “There are hot-packs over there.” He cocks his head toward the bleachers as he takes your place in front of the bags.

You’re left standing there in confusion as Taehyun takes over your current job, walking towards the bleachers in search of the stated hotpacks before a warm object is pressed to your cheek and you startle. 

Riki snickers softly as you look at him in disgust before realizing it’s him, and your face softens to an eyeroll with a soft ‘fuck off’ muttered under your breath. You move to grab the hotpack from him, but he cheekily holds it out of your reach with a boyish giggle. 

The look you give him has him flattening his lips to hold back a grin as he silently hands the heat pack to you with a muttered apology. 

“Why aren’t you in line?” You question, and he has that same smirk on his face.

He shrugs, “Wanted to talk to my girl first.” You give him a look and he groans, “Can’t you just let me indulge for a second?”

“Patience is a virtue, Riki.” You muse as you cross your arms to tuck your hands away with a hotpack in each hand. “Plus, you said you’d wait.”

“And I will—I am.” He confirms with a shake of his head and a lighthearted grin, “But you could be a little more forgiving, pretty girl.”

“I don’t believe in forgiveness.” You retort with a shrug and a pretty smile.

“Niki!” Jake calls out from the line a few yards away, he’s a few players behind with a grin on his face as he says, “Don’t worry about getting in line, I’ll get you one!”

“Yeah, keep talkin’ to your girlfriend~.” Sunghoon teases, causing most of the team to snicker or whistle.

Riki’s ears go red, but when you point it out with a giggle, his hand immediately shoots to one of the red appendages and he shakes his head, “It’s the cold.”

“Niki, our shy boy!” Heeseung coos from the line, and the rest are all too eager to join in.

“Wow, Niki, you're so cute!”

“Niki, kiss her!”

“It’s giving Romeo!”

Riki groans softly, hands covering his face from your vision as you laugh, a warmth blooming in your chest that eases the chill in your bones. “I’m gonna kill them.”

He’s about to say something else when Taki takes a bite of the brownie in his hand and grunts something sounding like “oh yeah” with his words garbled by the mouthful he’s chewing. 

You watch the scene unfold with amusement, leaning back on your heels as the team collectively loses their minds over a baked good. Taki, still mid-chew, looks like he’s having a near-spiritual experience, while Jungkook shouts something about chewing with his mouth closed.

Riki uses the distraction to lower his hands from his face, a grin breaking through his earlier embarrassment as he watches you watching them. His voice cuts through the chaos, low and teasing: “You seem happy.”

Your gaze moves to him, “Is that an issue?”

“Not at all.” He responds smoothly, “You look good when you’re happy.”

“I always look good.” You retort out of habit. 

He seems to have expected it, nodding along in agreement before he asks, “So, if I asked you to wear my jersey instead of whatever cute shirt you were gonna wear tonight, would you?”

“Look good? Yes.” You answer with a light, teasing tone, “Agree? Mmm, maybe.”

“You’re killing me, baby.”

“Sweet names will get you nowhere.”

“So, you like it when I call you that?” He asks, stepping closer with a cheeky grin.

You remain defiant, arms crossed as you instinctively lean away from him with a laugh, “I never said that.”

“You didn’t deny it either.” He retorts swiftly, his head tilting and his eyes moving over your face with a smugness that pisses you off.

“No, I didn’t.” You agree, and his eyes narrow slightly at the almost flirty smile on your lips as you turn away from him to make your way back to Taehyun. 

You fight the giddy feeling in your chest as you feel his gaze on you, deciding against sparing a glance back as you hear the crunch of his steps following after you.

As always, you’re right. Riki’s spare jersey looks adorable on you.

“He’s gonna die.” Gaeul practically squeals at the sight of you. It’s a bit warmer than the morning had been when you arrive at the opposing school’s stadium, the long sleeved fleece-lined undershirt protecting you from the chilled breeze. “Bitch, your ass looks fantastic.”

A grin brightens your face and laugh leaves your glossy lips as she fawns over your look, “Right?” You turn slightly to give her a better view of your behind purely out of excitement, because yeah, your ass looks good in these jeans. 

“It’s smiling at me,” She gasps, smacking your butt lightly with a laugh before hooking her arm with yours and beginning to tug you along. “I didn’t know if you’d come tonight with everything that happened last game.” 

“Why?” You ask a bit cluelessly, before remembering the event clearer and shaking your head, “Oh, that weird guy? No, I’m fine.”

She hums with a slight frown as the two of you get to the concessions, “I’m so sorry for leaving you in all the chaos, I didn’t realize you weren’t behind me until I got to Jay.”

Sensing the remorse behind her words, you find yourself quickly saying, “Don’t feel bad, I’m okay.”

“Ugh, I need your number! That’s been eating me alive all week!” She huffs softly as the line moves up, “I tried to find you at school but you kept evading me.”

“You couldn’t ask Belle? Don’t you two share a class?” You question with a slight tilt of your head and her jaw slacks.

“Why did I not think of that?” She mutters to herself as you both reach the front of the line and she orders herself a soft pretzel before looking over at you, “My treat, an apology.”

You aren’t one to reject free food when offered, so you look at the concession worker and say, “A Dr Pepper and another soft pretzel, please.” 

Gaeul pays and a worker in the back pulls out two warm pretzels as another grabs the familiar maroon bottle from a cooler. She starts speaking again the moment the food and drinks are in your hands.

“Food isn’t allowed on the field, but I already gave Jay a kiss before he went on the bus.” 

Her smile is suggestive, and you make a face that has her whining, “C’mon, I’ll hold your food while you go—“ She shimmies her shoulders and purses her lips into a kissy face that has you letting out a shrill ‘ew, stop!’

“That’s deplorable.” Your words contradict the laughter seeping into your speech, “I am not going down there.”

“Boring.” She groans, but her face brightens suddenly and she waves ahead. When you follow her gaze and find Mrs Nishimura approaching, you internally freak out until she smiles at you and you remember how lovely of a woman she is. 

A lovely woman who seems to zero in on the jersey you wear the moment she’s within arms reach, “Oh, don’t you look darling!”

She pulls you into a warm hug and you accept it keenly, “Thank you! Are Maki and Runa with you?”

Your question comes as she pulls away, keeping you at arms-length as she shakes her head, “No, they stayed home with their father, neither wanted to make the trip.”

The trip being about an hour long car ride to the other side of town, which is fair. Feels shorter when you’re driving, though. You got through SZA’s new album on the way, too.

The three of you make it to the bleachers, finding a spot to watch the game as the ref whistles and the teams start to huddle. The board reads:

STARSHIP ALIENS v. DECELIS DEMONS

You sporadically tear pieces off of your soft pretzel as your eyes follow Riki the entire game, catching his eye at multiple points and having to act like you don’t see he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face under that face-guard.

The Demon’s win 12-8 long past sunset, a chill nipping your nose and the empty paper your pretzel came in crumbled into a ball in your hand. Rin sends you the same look as the last game before retreating toward the parking lot.

The moment you step foot on the field after releasing Gaeul’s arm, Jake appears in your view with a big grin, “Didja see the weaving I did? I looked cool, right?”

You debate breaking it to the boy that you may have entirely forgotten he was even on the team, too focused on his teammate to even notice him.

“I don’t think she was watching you.” Heeseung appears with his helmet off and his sweat-drenched hair sticking to his forehead. He moves to throw an arm around your shoulder and you quickly dodge with an ‘eugh’.

“You’re sweaty and you stink.” You grumble with a grimace on your face, and Heeseung seems ready to complain before he grins again at something behind you and a second later arms engulf you from behind. 

“You’re cute from the back too, pretty girl.” Riki muses into your ear, lifting you up held against his chest with his arms wrapped around you. 

“Riki, you sweaty bastard, let me go!” You whine, struggling against him as he lets your feet touch the ground again.

He giggles boyishly as he obeys, and as you turn to give him a piece of your mind you find the curses dying on your tongue at the grin on his face.

His smile is wide and unapologetically smug, the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes your chest feel like your heart is trying to claw its way out. His helmet dangles loosely in his hand now, his hair a damp mess but somehow still looking good.

“You can’t just pick people up like that,” you say, trying to sound annoyed but betraying yourself when your lips twitch upward. “It’s rude.”

He leans forward slightly, closing the gap between you as if he can’t keep himself away. “Oh? You didn’t like it?”

You roll your eyes, stepping back to put some space between you, but Riki matches your movement with an exaggerated pout, clearly enjoying himself. Before you can fire back with something probably aggressive or mean, another voice cuts in.

“Alright, Romeo, stop flirting and help us pack up,” Jungwon calls, dragging the duffel bags of gear toward the bus. He tosses a water bottle at Riki, who catches it without really looking.

“I’ll see you in a minute,” Riki says softly, his grin softening into something warmer that sends an entirely different kind of shiver through you. He leans down and kisses your cheek before jogging off to join his teammates. 

Holy fuck.

Your heart is racing in your chest like an old woman whose heart is about to give out, and your long sleeve undershirt is suddenly too damn hot. 

You barely manage to pull yourself together before Gaeul pops up next to you, a knowing smirk spread across her face as she loops her arm around yours. “He kissed you~,” she sing-songs, her tone just low enough not to draw attention, but her amusement is blatant.

“Fuck off,” you mumble, pressing a hand to your cheek like it’ll somehow stop the warmth there from spreading like the grin in your face. You hope the shadows cast by the stadium lights are enough to hide your flustered state.

Gaeul doesn’t let up as the two of you wander toward the edge of the field, her giggles like little daggers stabbing at your already tattered dignity. “He picked you up. And got touchy.”

“I’m aware,” You huff, “I experienced it.”

“I mean, I don’t think you get how big a deal this is,” she practically rambles, “Riki’s never been this…confident!”

“Oh?” You question with your brows furrowed slightly.

She nods with an eager hum, “Riki’s shy! At least he was when I first met him.” Everything up to this point hadn’t pointed you in that direction regarding Riki’s personality, too familiar with the smug smiles and nonchalance, “I mean, he’s like a different person now that you’re around.”

“That’s…good, right?” You question hesitantly, “I mean, he wasn’t weird or anything, right?”

Your voice must have failed to convey the jesting tone you intended because Gaeul quickly begins to backtrack as you approach the bus. Jungkook is at the driver's seat of the bus while some of the team boards it with their duffles hanging from their shoulders and others are loading the luggage compartment with gear, free of their shoulder pads and helmets. 

Even without the padding, Riki’s back is broad, jersey hanging off muscle. You can barely see Jake past him, who's on the other side of the compartment helping organize it. 

You forget about any questions on your tongue when the shorter male cheekily points out your approach from behind and he looks over his shoulder for you with the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen.

Beautiful bastard.

He wastes no time in loading the equipment bag in his hands into the compartment before stepping away from the bus, jogging toward you with that grin. Gaeul begins to pull away with a grin, but leans in to speak quietly enough for him to not hear, “I’ll give you guys a second.”

She shoots a wink at you as she and Riki pass each other, a soft snicker leaving you as she calls out happily for Jay, who’s just stepped off the bus.

Riki slows as he reaches you, his smile turning slightly sheepish now that it’s just the two of you. He lifts a hand to scratch the back of his neck, his other hand gripping the hem of his jersey. “You’re not mad about earlier, right?”

You ignore the fact his movements cause the jersey to ride up, revealing a sliver of his abdomen that makes you feel like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time.

“I haven’t decided yet.” You respond with a nonchalant shrug and a thoughtful tilt of your head. 

He chuckles softly, his hand dropping from his nape as he steps closer with the same magnetism as before, like he doesn’t want to be too far, “C’mon, I was happy you’re here.”

“And you just had to pick me up?”

His laugh is warm and full, the sound washing over you and melting away any annoyance you could have pretended to feel. “Yes.” he says with a nod, his eyes crinkling at the corners again as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. 

This time, you roll your eyes and half-fight the smile naturally growing on your face, “Fine, but that’s your first strike.”

His brows raise in curiosity, his grin turning to a smirk as he asks, “First strike? How many do I get?”

“Three. Duh.” You sass, and he seems to find that just as amusing as your very serious strike system, though you find it kinda hot that he didn’t question the logic behind it. (The answer: if Sheldon Cooper can have a strike system, so can you.)

“And what happens after three?” He asks, leaning closer with intrigue and that stupid smile.

“Let’s hope you never find out.” You retort, having an idea of what to say but not sure if ‘flogging’ is too far. (You know Belle would laugh, though.)

“Nishimura!” Jungkook barks from the open doors of the bus. The last of the team is filing onto the bus, probably eager to get home. “Stop lollygagging and get on the damn bus.”

You snort softly at the word choice, but find that you aren’t safe from the Coach’s annoyance, “You too, go home. Don’t make me tell them about Shadow.” 

The gasp that leaves your lips is one of pure betrayal. The audacity. The nerve. “You—”

He raises his brows in a ‘do it, i dare you’ way and your lips fall shut.

Riki is unable to move past the Shadow thing. “Shadow? Like the Hedgehog?”

“No, like my cat.” You snap sarcastically, “Get on that damn bus.”

Your gaze moves to the vehicle in question, and you find the eyes of the Decelis lacrosse team trained on you and Riki. Through an open window, you hear a voice you think is Kai’s saying, “I thought her cat’s name was Gus.”

“Baby, you have to tell me now.” He laughs breathlessly, like he’s not sure whether to let it out or keep it in for your sake.

“It will never leave my mouth, and I swore him—“ Your words shift from defiant to angry as your finger shoots out to point at the tattooed man impatiently waiting at the bus’ door, “—to secrecy!”

Your words are full of betrayal as you vehemently continue with your manicured finger still pointed, “You took the Unbreakable Vow!

“You were eight.” The Coach retorts. “You used a Crayola marker. It was pink.”

You want to argue, but hold yourself back for everyone’s sake as you look back at a heavily amused Riki and say, “Get on the bus.”

“I’m not letting this go.” He warns with pure joy on his face and a laugh in his voice as he begins to slowly walk back.

You simply shake your head and cross your arms defiantly, “I’m not gonna tell you.”

He only tilts his head with ‘really?’ look, too smug for his own good, the bastard. 

Jay and Gaeul appear, her lipgloss smudged on his lips and messy on her own. Jungkook notices them with a disgusted frown and chilling glare. Jay mutters a ‘sorry Coach’ after kissing Gaeul goodbye, and she happily begins to approach your side.

Riki takes the brief moment of time to circle back and ask you quickly, “Are you free tomorrow? Or tonight?” 

You blink, mindful of Gaeul’s approach but finding his impulsivity endearing, nodding instead of saying something you’ll cringe at later.

His grin stretches wide, lighting up his face like you’ve just made his entire night. “Cool. I’ll text you,” he says casually, though there’s a spark of excitement in his voice that betrays him. Before you can respond, he jogs back toward the bus, shooting you one last look over his shoulder as he climbs the steps.

Gaeul sidles up to you, her arm sliding through yours with practiced ease, the grin on her face telling you she heard the exchange, “Ready to go?”

You’re thankful she doesn’t tease you again, nodding as the both of you begin to walk toward the visitor parking. 

With your back turned, you don’t see one of the slightly ajar windows sliding open more, or the boy that pops his head out of it until he calls out, “Hey!”

You stop mid-step, glancing back over your shoulder to find Riki leaning halfway out the window, his hair messy and damp but looking entirely too perfect for someone who just played an entire game.

You raise a brow in silent question.

“You look good in my jersey!” he calls out, his tone playful but tinged with something softer—something that makes your heart skip.

Your cheeks heat instantly, and you can’t fight the smile breaking across your face. Gaeul snorts next to you, gripping your arm like she’s about to combust.

“I know!” you shout back, doing your best to sound casual, though the warmth in your voice betrays you.

His grin widens, impossibly charming, and he shoots you a two-fingered salute before disappearing back into the bus as the vehicle begins to roll away. Gaeul finally releases her pent-up laughter, practically bouncing on her toes.

“You know?” she echoes, mimicking your response and clutching her stomach. “Girl, you’re gonna kill him one day with that play.”

You start walking toward the parking lot again, tugging her along to keep her from lingering. “I wasn’t playing anything,” you say, though the warmth in your cheeks tells a different story. “I do look good in his jersey. That’s just reality.”

“Sure, sure,” she teases, bumping her shoulder into yours. “But you could’ve just said thank you. Or blushed. Like a normal person.”

“Showing that he affects me is embarrassing.” You grumble softly, “I’ll die before I boost a man’s ego like that.”

(Though, you did cry in front of him about how much you like him, so maybe that argument isn’t valid anymore.)

She cackles at that, nearly stumbling over her own feet as you reach your car. “But, seriously, I’ve never seen him like that. He’s so…” Her voice trails off as she unlocks her own car a few spaces down, but the twinkle in her eye says enough.

“So what?” you press, opening your car door but pausing before you get in.

Gaeul grins knowingly, pointing at you with her keys. “So gone for you.”

You spend the next minute acting like the thought of him being ‘gone’ for you, as Gaeul put it, doesn’t make you want to squeal into a pillow and kick your feet, and when the two of you part ways that feeling remains.

The hour drive home feels longer with Riki on your mind, but maybe it’s the fact you aren’t sure if seeing him again tonight is the best idea. 

Something you’ve realized about yourself since meeting Riki is that you suck at impulse control. You preach self-control yet the moment he’s around you—or even mentioned—you find yourself wanting to act on every impulse the chemicals in your brain fire.

When you get home, pulling into the garage as your parents were once again out of town, you read a text Riki had sent not ten minutes prior.

A beat passes before he responds and you huff in disbelief.

The response comes in the form of a phone call. His contact photo lights up your screen, and you huff softly in amusement before pressing the answer button and bringing it to your ear as you get out of your car, “Yes?”

“Both?” His voice comes through, playful yet tinged with something warmer. You can hear the muffled chatter of his teammates in the background, he must not be home yet. “You’re really not making this easy for me, you know.”

“You asked,” you counter with a soft laugh, locking your car and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I just gave you the answer.”

“Yeah? Which door should I be knocking on? Front or back?”

“You’re not seriously coming tonight, stupid,” you say, though the idea isn’t unappealing. You reach the door, cursing softly at how loud the garage is as it closes. Your hand wraps around the door handle.

“Why not?”

“Riki,” you start with a laugh, entering your home and flipping on the light.

“What? You said both,” he teases. You can hear the grin in his voice, and you roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “Besides, Coach is gonna drop us off at the field to grab our cars anyway. It’s not like I’m going out of my way or anything.”

You hesitate, caught between the thrill of seeing him tonight and the logic of how tired he must be after the game. “Are you sure you don't wanna go to bed?”

“Not really,” he says softly, a bit more serious now, warm. “I’d rather see you.”

Your stomach flips, the sincerity in his voice knocking the wind out of you. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

“And you love it,” he shoots back, but there’s a gentleness there that makes you smile despite yourself.

“You better shower before you get here,” You say after a beat, and you swear you hear a whispered ‘yes’ before adding, “Don’t need your stench stinking up my house.”

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckles on the other end, a sound that comes through your phone beautifully. “Just don’t fall asleep before I get there.”

“Yeah, yeah, just text me when you’re on the way.” You walk toward the kitchen, dropping your purse on the counter and unzipping it to grab the eyedrops as you say, “Also, do you have a curfew?”

“Why? You tryna keep me for longer, pretty girl?” His teasing words are unfortunately true, but you refuse to admit it.

“Well, it’s already almost 10:00.” You dodge his question as you unscrew the tiny bottle in your hands, “I didn’t know if your mom would want you home sooner rather than later.”

“Nah, she’s fine with it.” He assures you, and then a beat passes and he asks, “What about yours?”

“They’re out of town, so it doesn't really matter.” You shrug, “So to answer your question, the front door is fine.”

You hear shuffling on the other end, a car door opening and closing, “So, you don’t mind if I stay a while?”

You can hear the smile in his words, and with a bite of your nail you say, “I’ll kick you out when I get sick of you.”

He laughs softly on the other end, “I’ll stay till you kick me out, then.”

You exchange a few more words before he hangs up to drive, and you have a window of time to panic(and clean up). 

After a five minute debate with yourself about taking off or keeping on your makeup, you decide the former is the better option with how late it is and your track record of falling asleep without doing so. 

(You also make a promise to yourself that if you fall asleep in front of Riki, death is the only option.)

So, when you get the text that he's arrived and you open the door with a bare face, you half-expect him to comment on it. You had FaceTimed him late enough for the boy to bear witness to your nighttime routine on multiple occasions, but he’d never shown any reaction to it.

The only reaction you get is the same boyish smile as always, the warmth behind his eyes making your heart lurch in your chest.

“Hey,” he greets softly, hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie as he steps inside. He smells like some mélange of citrus and musk, his body wash and cologne you assume, and it makes your head feel funny.

“Hey.” You respond with a light huff of amusement as you step aside for him to enter, closing the door behind him, “I see you showered.”

His damp hair covers his forehead, the same messy style he has everytime he takes off his helmet and sweat saturates each lock, yet a bit frizzy like he towel-dried it before he left.

He chuckles, head shaking lightly in amusement as he lets you lead him toward the kitchen, “I listen.”

His words are playfully defensive, the boyish smile on his face and the way he cranes his neck slightly makes you laugh, “You better.” He hums, dropping himself onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island, eyes flickering over the space as you move to grab yourself a drink. “You want anything?” 

“Whatever you have.” He shrugs, so you grab two Dr Pepper cans from the fridge and move back to the island.

Riki watches you pull two straws from the drawer in amusement, his elbows on the counter as you pop open the cans with practiced ease and an unhurried leisure. You catch his eyes with a raise of your brow that has him smirking slightly and saying, “Just watchin’.”

“I’d prefer you didn't stare.”

“Can’t help it.”

You roll your eyes at him, but put the straw in and hold the can out toward him anyway. When he takes it with that almost besotted  look in his eyes and his fingers brush yours, you find yourself turning away from him the moment it’s out of your hand, “Are you hungry?” 

Riki shakes his head, tapping his fingers against the can before taking a sip. “Nah, we stopped for food after the game.”

You nod, opening the pantry to browse and distract yourself, but it does nothing to drown out the weight of his gaze. This was a horrible idea. When you glance at him, he’s still watching you, straw between his lips, eyes holding something unreadable.

“Stop it.”

Riki obediently averts his gaze, turning in his stool until he’s no longer facing you—though he playfully overachieves, turning his back to you completely. You can’t help but poorly conceal a laugh at his actions, which prompts him to look back over his shoulder for your smile.

You act like you don’t catch the way his gaze follows you, ignoring the way it forms a knot in your gut. “C’mon, let’s sit in the living room.”

He follows without hesitation, the soft thud of his socks against the floor trailing after you. You settle into the couch, tucking your legs beneath you, and he drops down beside you like he belongs there.

He does it so easily—makes himself at home in your space, in your presence. It should annoy you. Maybe it does, but not for the reasons you wish it did.

Riki sets his drink on the coffee table, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. He doesn’t touch you, but he could. If you shifted even slightly, if he reached just a little further.

You pretend not to notice.

You scroll through the options absentmindedly, hyperaware of Riki’s presence beside you—the way his fingers drum idly against the couch cushion, the way his head tilts slightly in your direction when you stop on a show.

“This good?” You ask, your voice quieter than intended.

“Yeah,” he says softly. You get the feeling he doesn’t really care what’s on.

You settle into the silence, the soft hum of the TV filling the space between you. For a moment, it’s almost comfortable, normal. But the stillness makes your mind race, and it’s impossible not to notice how close he is. You shift slightly, your side brushing against his as you settle deeper into the cushions, and the air feels thicker somehow, heavier.

You steal a glance at him, his eyes fixed on the screen, but there’s a subtle tension in his posture that wasn’t there before. His shoulders are a little tighter, his jaw a little more set, like he’s holding something back.

Like a ray of sunshine on a rainy day, Gus appears around the corner with a sweet trill and takes the attention of both of you away from the movie(and each other).

Riki perks up immediately, his gaze shifting from the screen to the small ball of fur trotting toward the couch. “Oh, hey, buddy,” he greets softly, leaning forward slightly as Gus hops onto the cushions with practiced ease.

You watch with amusement as he settles in Riki’s lap, loafing contentedly and blinking slowly at you from his spot. Unable to bear it, you shift slightly closer to the boy beside you to reach your cat more comfortably, muttering a soft and fond, “Traitor.”

The midfielder laughs softly, ringed fingers gently scratching the tomcat on his head near your own, “He loves me.”

“He’s a lovey cat.” You retort, and though your words are true, you’ve never seen him lay in anyone’s lap this fast, much less a boy. He was never too fond of Eunseok, and doesn’t really care much for Jongseob, yet seeks out affection from Riki every time he comes over. “He likes warm laps.”

“Maybe he just has good taste.”

“Or maybe he’s a cat.” You retort, shifting again in your seat to make sure you’re not too close. He comments this time.

“Am I making you nervous?” He asks teasingly, voice low. 

“Excuse me?” You ask with a judgemental confusion on your face.

He seems undeterred, only motivated by the tone you give him, “You keep fidgeting, baby.”

“What did I say about calling me that?” You lightly smack his side, and he winces playfully.

“My bad,” he concedes, hands lifting from Gus momentarily in mock-surrender, “it won’t happen again.”

“Don’t lie.”

He chuckles, “It’ll happen again.”

A noise begins to play from the other room, and Gus immediately launches himself from Riki’s lap to run off. You laugh softly at Riki’s slight pout, the boy dramatically reaching after the feline longingly, “That was his automatic feeder.”

“Damn.” He sighs, his hands falling back to his sides on the sofa. The tip of his thumb brushes your knee accidentally, and the tension in the air shifts once more.

Both of you seem to zero in on the simple contact, accidental and barely-there yet electric in a way you’d never experienced such minute touches. The tip of his thumb turns into the pad of it, a gentle tracing of circular patterns on your knee. Then, his knuckles join, as if testing the waters.

When you glance at him he's already looking at you, his eyes dark with something unreadable, something intense that makes your stomach flip and your chest explode with warmth. Like an itch, one you know how to quell but the side of your brain dealing with critical thinking tells you it’s probably a bad idea.

His palm flattening against your knee is enough for you to disregard the advice of your logical brain and act on the only impulse your brain can fire at the moment. 

Riki’s other hand moves to your cheek when you’re close enough, long fingers tangling into the hair behind your ear as his thumb brushes your cheekbone. His head tilts to the side, nose brushing yours as he shakes it lightly. He doesn’t use the hand on your cheek to push you away or tease you further, any playfulness gone and replaced by a warmth and desire that makes your chest fill with butterflies. 

Your breaths mix, the sound of the TV drowned out by the sheer madness of him. He looks like the last thing he wants to do is pull away, like it’s a struggle to not close the short distance between your lips and his—to not cross any lines. Then, his forehead presses to yours gently and he says, “We don’t have to. I can wait.” 

His words are soft, nearly whispered, yet his deep voice makes them heavier on your gut than you’d ever admit. You find yourself speaking in a mirrored tone, “I don’t want you to wait anymore.” 

His eyes widen just slightly, and his lips part, just barely, his gaze dropping to your mouth. His thumb continues its delicate path across your cheekbone, his fingers flexing in your hair as if anchoring himself to this moment. You can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, the proximity making your heart race.

“I want you to know,” he begins, his voice a low rumble, “I’m not going anywhere. I meant what I said about waiting…I won’t rush you.”

You take a deep breath through your nose, his words a tender weight against your chest. But it doesn’t change what you’re feeling now or how close he is. How easy it would be to just close the gap and kiss him, to let all the tension and uncertainty dissolve with the space between your lips.

“I know.” You say with a slight smile.

Before you can second-guess yourself, your lips find his in a soft and brief kiss. 

Riki’s intentions seem to differ from your own as you move to pull away, the hand on your cheek sliding into your hair as his lips chase yours to pull you back in. There’s no hesitation behind it like before, his lips moving against yours with a building urgency that you can’t help but reciprocate.

You gasp softly against his mouth when the hand on your knee glides up your thigh, fingers pressing into skin and pulling you closer almost desperately. He tilts your head just enough to deepen the kiss, a low sound from his chest setting your blood aflame as you maneuver into his lap.

His hands move as your knees settle on either side of his hips, warm palms splaying over the curve of your waist and fingers digging into flesh to feel you as close as possible. It’s too much, yet somehow not enough.

Your fingers thread into his slightly damp hair, another deep sound escaping his intoxicating lips that has your stomach flipping. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips brushing yours again and again, each kiss deeper than the last. You can feel the way his heart beats beneath your palm, just as fast as yours, and it makes something tighten in your chest.

Riki tilts his head slightly, his nose brushing against your cheek as he exhales softly, his grip on your waist shifting as his hands trail up your spine. He pulls you impossibly closer, a restrained urgency in the way he holds you. He's patient—always—but there's something in the way his fingers press into your skin, in the way his lips part just enough for his breath to mix with yours, that tells you he's feeling this just as intensely as you are.

Pulling away feels like the worst idea in the world, but your lungs ache and something in the back of your mind tells you this is all too soon, too fast. The sound that the disconnect of your lips with Riki’s makes sends a thrill up your spine that the look in his eyes only exacerbates.

His forehead is warm against your own as your breaths mix and his hands slide back down to your waist. His lips ghost yours as you pant softly against him, his head tilting and his nose brushing over your cheek as his lips find the skin there, then your jaw, and your pulse point. You can feel the chastity of his kisses, the type that’s so gentle you’re not sure if you actually felt his lips on you or you just want them there enough to trick your mind into believing it.

“God, pretty girl.” He sighs, burying his nose into your neck to stop himself from kissing you more.

“Riki,” you murmur, unsure of what you want to say, only knowing that you don’t want him to move away just yet.

He hums against your skin, his breath warm, sending a shiver down your spine. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, then exhale softly. “Nothing.”

He chuckles, low and knowing, before pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, but there’s something tender in the way they study you, like he’s trying to commit this moment to memory.

His thumb brushes absentmindedly over your waist, his touch light, reverent. “You good?”

You nod, though your heart is hammering in your chest. “Are you?”

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering, then grins—small and lopsided. “Yeah.”

His gaze drops to your lips again, lingering for a beat too long before he exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “I should go before I do something stupid.”

The admission has your stomach flipping once more, but you find yourself huffing softly in amusement, “Yeah, you should.”

The moment your hands move to his shoulders and you attempt to dismount his lap, his arms wrap around your waist and his nose returns to its home buried in your neck, “Mmm, in a minute.” 

A laugh escapes you, breathy and light, as your fingers absentmindedly trace the line of his shoulder blades. “You just said you should go.”

“I should,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your skin. “Doesn’t mean I want to.”

You hum softly, deciding against teasing him and instead settling into the security of his embrace. You feel him smile against your skin, slowly pulling his face from the junction between your neck and shoulder.

Then, his hands move, one sliding up your spine while the other lifts to cup your jaw, and he kisses your cheek. Soft. Chaste.

“Okay,” he murmurs, still so close. “Now I’ll go.”

You don’t stop him this time when he loosens his hold, when he gently shifts you off his lap. You don’t say anything as he stands, raking a hand through his already-messy hair(courtesy of your hands, of course), or when he stretches and his hoodie rides up. When he looks down at you, you almost shrink under his gaze before he smiles that warm way you love and he leans forward to grab your hand in his.

You let his fingers slide between your own, your eyes on him as he tugs you gently and prompts you to get off the couch to step closer to him with a soft huff of amusement, “I thought you were going?”

His hand in yours slips out in favor of joining the other on either side of your jaw, thumbs gently brushing your cheeks fondly as he mirthfully smirks down at you. You have no choice but to tilt your head back to look at him at this proximity, and he doesn’t seem all that eager to widen it.

“I am.” His muttered confirmation is contradicted by the way his lips find yours again, soft yet eager, no longer hesitant to join them as often as he’d like with your prior statement. When he pulls away and you chase his kiss, he hums with amusement in his grin, nose nudging yours. “How am I supposed to leave if you keep making me want to kiss you, huh?”

“I didn’t even do anything.” You defend yourself with a soft laugh.

“Mm, you don’t have to.” He groans softly, eyes shutting as he presses his forehead to yours and sighs, “You’re mine now, right?”

The bluntness of his question has your heart skipping but you hum as if apprehensive, “Maybe. You didn’t ask.”

His eyes open and he looks at you with playful disbelief and a whole lot of amusement, “You want me to ask you out, pretty girl?”

“I never said that,” You retort reflexively, ignoring the way his eyebrows quirk up in challenge and entertainment, “But I might be yours if you ask nicely.”

“Nicely. Right….” He nods in mock understanding, and when he leans in to kiss you again, you meet him halfway. “Will you…” He starts with his voice soft and deep in all the best ways as he pulls away between kisses to continue, “be…my girl?”

He pulls away just enough to see your face as you recover from the dizzying way his lips find yours, and your words are softer than you intended as you breathlessly reply, “I’ll have to think about it.”

His shoulders shake with soft laughter as he shakes his head and mutters, “shut up,” under his breath before he closes the distance once more.

𝒇𝒊𝒏.

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

[simpxxstan]

to you (yjh one-shot)

pairing: model!jeonghan x f.reader

genre: friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst, smut (MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!)

summary: jeonghan loves to play cupid. he's thoroughly successful at it as well. you know it's just his incredible luck, and you can't wait for him to trip and fall. even if you'll be the first one to stop him from falling.

word count: 16.2k

rating: 18+

warnings: seokmin and joshua are sexually and romantically attracted to men in this fic(this is not meant to represent/imply anything from real life). infidelity (not by jeonghan or reader mc), heartbreaks, body image insecurities, bad familial relations, jeonghan comes from a rich family, slight love triangle between jeonghan and mingyu, jeonghan is slightly self-centred, joshua is a mean guy and breaks hearts. smut warnings: oral sex (m. receiving), nipple play, protected sex.

a/n: this fic is largely inspired by jane austen's emma. it's an amazing book so pls do read/watch the tv renditions (personally recommend the 2009 bbc version). if you are familiar with, you might think of this fic as somewhat from mr. knightley's pov. i've not kept the plot exactly same ofc, but there are a lot of similarities. hope you enjoy reading it! your feedback, likes and reblogs make my day <333

One fine morning, when you were busy harvesting the freshly grown radish from your backyard, a boy who was about as tall as you and had a mop of brown hair that made you cross because it was so unkempt, peeped from the other side of the backyard gate. He was waving at you, and had a bright smile on his face. 

“Who are you?” You asked, with as much courage as you could, for a five year old. 

“Hello! I'm Yoon Jeonghan!”

“Why are you here?” 

He stuttered, and pointed his hand to the big mansion that marked the otherwise quiet locality as posh, the landmark for all delivery people, and the pride of the neighbourhood. “I live there!”

“Yaah! You're not allowed here.”

“Why?” He pouts.

“I'm busy now. I can't entertain guests.”

“What are you doing? That's what I came to see!” He's smiling again. 

“Harvesting radish that I planted last month!”

“Really?! Wow! You're a farmer!”

You smile with a little bit of pride. “Yaah! How many rooms do you have in your house? Eomma says you have 10  rooms!”

“No…” he pauses, and you're hopeful that he'll just prove your mom was merely exaggerating. “There are 14 rooms!” He then continues, making you even more annoyed.

“Yaah! Then why don't you go live there! Why are you disturbing me!”

“You haven't even told me your name. Why are you being like a mean Ahjumma!” He whined and slapped the gate once. 

“I don't tell strangers my name!”

“Okay keep your secret name.”

“Yes. Now go to your big house.”

“I don't want to! I don't like it! I want to live in your house!”

You're really angry now. First he disturbs you, and then tries to steal your house too! “Yaah! You're a bad guy!”

“No! I really like cozy houses like yours.”

“But when I grow up, I want to live in a big house like yours.”

“No! I want to live in a house like yours. Cozy and warm.”

“You're crazy Yoon Jeonghan.”

He smiles sweetly, before making a tiny heart with his fingers, making you cringe. 

“Won't you let me in, friend?”

“You're not my friend.”

“Aaah…. Right. I must be your Oppa!”

“Oppa? Yaah!”

“What a rude dongsaengie, aigoo! How old are you?”

“I'm not your dongsaeng!”

“No! You are! I was born in 1995. You?”

You bite your lip when you realise you indeed are younger to him.

“Just because I was born in 1997 doesn't mean I'm your dongsaeng. You'll always be Yoon Jeonghan to me!”

He shrugged before giggling. “It's okay, dongsaengie. We can be informal like friends!” He throws another heart at you, and you cringe again.

“Now will you go home or will I call my mom to shoo you out?” Your hands are on your hips. 

“No! I'll leave then. Bye bye chinguya! See you tomorrow, Y/N-ie!”

You huff as you see him skip along the road and enter the gate of his-

Wait. Did he just say your name? 

_

And that was how, twenty years ago, you had met Yoon Jeonghan. And your friendship had stuck along, surprisingly (to you, not to him. He always nodded smugly and very knowingly, as if he knew something more about the secret to how you two had tolerated each other for so long. And you wouldn't be surprised to know he did know more. He always did.)

You had thought to yourself many times. Maybe because you and Jeonghan were the perfect yin and yang. There was enough pride from your end to make up for his shamelessness. Enough street-smartness and easygoing charm from him to make up for your coquettish, brisk attitude. Enough ambition from you to make up for his laidback, lazy nature. Enough laughs from him to make up for your forever anxious self. Enough optimism from you to share the light between the two of you. 

Just like that. You clicked like puzzle pieces, and you loved each other to bits.

Well, mostly.

You certainly didn't love Jeonghan any bit when he was behaving like this. This Cupid thing he adorned whenever he was around people of your age. His matchmaking and romantic agenda, as you liked to call it. It was nothing but a stroke of luck that his brother had married the exact girl that Jeonghan had predicted he would marry (three years before they had started dating, as he reminded you often to prove that it was truly his instinct and nothing else) and the silly fool had taken it straight to his dick and given his already large ego an extra-large pump.

His latest prey was Lee Seokmin, the new boy who had recently joined your friend circle, courtesy of Kim Mingyu, who was his childhood friend somehow. Seokmin was what one could call a young, impressionable mind. He was innocent to an extreme degree, and so illogical and gullible that he believed every damn thing that came out of Jeonghan's compulsively bluffing lips. You hardly knew what he was telling Seokmin, but they were both very animated while talking about it. Ever since you two had met Seokmin at a party three weeks ago, he had followed Jeonghan about like a puppy discovering the joys (and pains) of the human world, and Jeonghan had pretty much adopted him. 

So you take matters into your own hands. When you bump into him in the kitchen of the party you two are at now, you whisper to him, your hands on your hips, “Jeonghan, if I see you mess around with that kid-”

“Which kid?” He asks, an innocent look on his face. “Don’t play innocent now. You know very well I’m talking about Seokmin.” “Aigoo, Seokminnie! He’s such a lovely boy!” “Yes, and we’d all like him to remain lovely, if you please. Don’t go around putting foolish ideas into his head.”

“What foolish ideas?” 

“Jeonghan, I know you’re trying to set him up with Joshua. You know Joshua is a textbook playboy.”

 “Shhh! I think this one’s different. He’s actually bewitched with Seokmin.”

“Bewitched? You’re exaggerating, as usual.”

“Y/N!! You’ve gotta trust me, I have a gut feeling. Now, let me do God’s work, please don’t disturb me, Y/N-”

“Matchmaking is God’s work?”

“Yes! It’s called finding soulmates!”

“And how are you so sure Seokmin is into Joshua?”

Jeonghan pauses, smiling slyly. “Oh my god. You don’t know that yet, do you?” “No, but-” “Jeonghan!” “I know that he’s into guys. Listen, it’s not like I’m forcing him into anything. All I want is that he has some fun in his life! Can you believe it that he’s never had a relationship in his life? He’s too much of a good boy. And he’s told me he thinks Joshua is pretty attractive. The whole gentleman thing is rubbing off on him!” “I have a bad feeling about this.” “You know what, Y/N? You think you’re the only one who can do things correctly. You and your stuck up judgements. Can you please open your mind a little and let loose?”

There. He’s guilt-tripped you successfully. Now you’re on the verge of thinking whether you’re really stuck up. Under better senses, you probably would lean on your instinct that Jeonghan is messing around with you, but now, no. You’re three wine glasses down, and you’re a lightweight anyway. The insecurities have started kicking in.

“Anyway, why are you so protective?”

“I’m not,” you cross your hands across your chest, exhausted from the banter.

“It’s ‘cause of that Mingyu guy, isn’t it? You want to protect Mingyu’s friends?” He’s walking up to you, smiling again, as wicked as the devil. 

“What? I can’t care about a nice guy all on my own? What are you implying-”

“Please. We’ve all seen how you talk to Mingyu.”

“God. I’m so tired of this, Jeonghan.” And so, you walk away. You really are too tired. You’ve seen his brain do acrobats in this one field, and although he may have had successes till now, you’re sure doom is on the way. It’s sickening. Especially now that he’s pushing his agenda on you too. 

_

You’re woken up at six am in the morning to the irritating sound of your ringtone. Squinting, you pick the phone up. It’s Jeonghan. 

“Hello?”

“Were you sleeping, Y/N-ie?”

You pause. You seriously consider cutting the call off right now, because you know that tone. That is Jeonghan’s laidback tone, he’s not in an emergency, he’s not in a crisis. He’s called just to hear your voice, and you’ve been on the receiving end of too many calls like this in your life. 

“Jeonghan, what do you want?”

“Are you still pissed at me?” He’s pouting and you know it.

“Yaah,” you huff out, sitting up in your bed. “I’m not. Just. It’s 6 am for fuck’s sake, Hannie. Did you need anything?”

He’s silent for a second. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s fine.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t fall asleep, and the rain outside keeps making me tense. I decided to call you because I was feeling a little lonely.”

“Hmm. Do I need to come over?”

“Hell no. I have a girl over. She’s naked, and I don’t think you’ll want to see-”

“Wait, what? You have a person at your house?”

“Yeah, we slept together-”

“Then why the fuck are you awake?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you awake and calling me?”

“Umm, because I was thinking of you when I couldn’t sleep?”

“Don’t people, like, sleep very well after sex?”

“After good sex, yes. After what we did last night, no.”

Another pause. 

“Not that I’d know. But isn’t she going to feel upset you’re talking to me instead of, I don’t know, cuddling her or something?”

“Really, Y/N-ie. You want me to cuddle a stranger instead of talking to you? That’s how much you hate me?”

“Han, do not twist my words. You stayed up all night hooking up with someone and now you’re calling me, this is not how people behave after sex in movies-”

“Life isn’t a movie, Y/N-aah. You’ve told me this yourself.”

A slightly long pause.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he says. 

“No, I’ll just get into the shower now. I had to wake up at 7 anyway.”

“Ugh, but it’s a Monday!”

“Adults work on Mondays, Hannie. Why don’t you take a walk in the park or something and relax a bit? Work out. Get the energy out. It’ll improve your sleep.”

“Hmm, thank you Eomma. Enjoy your long day of work today! Make sure you earn a lot of money!”

“Hmm, bye bye Yoon.”

“Bye Y/L/N.”

The call disconnects and 6.15 stares at you from your screen. You’re tempted to scream into your pillow and curse Jeonghan for stealing your sleep time. But now you can’t afford to go back to sleep otherwise you’ll lose one of your precious 20 days of leave as well. The opportunity cost is definitely higher, you think, as you stumble and make your way towards the washroom.

_

“Oh Mr. Mingyu, someone’s early I see.” You enter the small office which is bustling with energy even in the morning. “Ms. Y/N, good morning!” Mingyu greets you with a bright smile as you sit down at the desk next to him, and you offer the second cup of ice americano you brought on your way. “Coffee?” “Of course, why not?” And his accented English never ceases to make you laugh. It’s funny how hard he tries to converse in English, even though it’s not even required in your job, but you guess it’s part of his charm- the hard-working good-natured himbo everyone is in love with. 

“How was your weekend? You didn’t come to the party at Soonyoung’s party last night.” You ask Mingyu. “Oh, my sister is in town. I went to pick her up from the train station last week and we spent the entire evening roaming through night markets.” “That sounds nice! Maybe I can meet her finally, after hearing so much about her.” “Yes! That’d be good. She’s here till Thursday. She’s actually here for an interview at a college for the designing program she wants to pursue.” Mingyu’s eyes are lit up with the brightest lights, putting even the sunlight in the room to shame. “Wow! I’m so happy for her.” “Yeah. Are you free tomorrow after work? I wanted to take her to see the cherry blossoms, and you could come too?” “Perfect. That works.”

Mingyu nods happily, before settling down in his seat, still buzzing with excitement. His puppy-like buzzing is endearing, but you quickly turn your eyes away from him, when you notice at least three other pairs of eyes staring at you from across the room. You gulp and glare back, and the eyes look away. You’re well aware of the gossip that surrounds your and Mingyu’s friendship, but you couldn’t care less. As long as it doesn’t interfere in your actual friendship. 

_

“Cherry blossoms? With his sister? Absolutely not!” 

“I didn’t really ask for your opinion, Jeonghan-ah.” You stare him down from where you are sitting across him with the chess board in between you two, and he takes a sip from his juice before playing his next move. 

“You don’t think it’s a date?” 

“A date? With his sister along, how could it be a date!” 

“You’re too oblivious. You can’t see what’s right in front of your eyes.” 

“And what may that be?” 

“Kim Mingyu is, obviously, into you.” 

“Excuse me.” “Excused,” he scoffs, before motioning to you to speed up your next move. You play your move too quickly, and he jumps up in glee, instantly locking you in checkmate. “Fuck!” 

“Pay attention, cutie. Do you want more juice?” 

“Hmm, it’s really good, Hannie.” “I know,” he giggles, before pouring more juice into your glasses. “I want to see cherry blossoms too. I’ll come along with you three, hmm? I’m sure Mingyu won’t mind.” 

You peer curiously at him. “Okay. Yeah, he won’t mind. But I didn’t know you wanted to see the cherry blossoms.” 

“I saw it in my feed today. It’s all the rage right now.” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Which is why I’m sure it’s a date. It’s what happens in all k-dramas!”

You can’t argue with Jeonghan, so you don’t. 

“You know, I think it is a little odd that you think Mingyu is into me. We’re really just good friends. I know he’s a little flirty, and very touchy, but that’s just him being comfortable around me.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “My instinct about humans is always better than yours, Y/N-ie. You know it.” “Sure.” “Let’s just wait and see how things turn out, hmm?” He gently pulls your hair back into a bun using a hair tie that’s wrapped around his wrist, and you whisper a thank you, because you hate it when your hair is in your face, and you didn’t realise that he knows about it. Well, you must’ve talked about it sometime or the other.

“Do you want takeout, or should I just make some omelette to mix into rice?” “Or we could just eat ramen.” “I thought you were on a diet, Han-ah?” You gape at him, and he pulls a face. “One cup of ramen won’t do anything.” “No, let’s stick to your diet, hmm? Because we won’t stop at just one cup of ramen, you know that.” He gently places his head on your shoulder in mock crying, and you pat his head before heading towards the fridge to take out eggs. 

“By the way, I have a fair coming up next week, will you come to help me?”

“What will I get in return?” He asks, while popping an olive into his mouth. 

“My friendship. My gratitude. My love and affection-”

“Tangible, please. None of this intangible stuff.” 

You gasp dramatically and relent, “Okay, I’ll treat you to tteokbokki. You’ve been craving ever since your diet started, haven’t you?” He makes an inhuman squeal, but you’re sure it’s one of joy because his eyes go up in twinkling crescents. “Oh, Y/N-ie, you’re the best! What would I do without you?” You laugh, and ask him to turn on the television, before breaking the eggs into your fry pan.

_

It was a mistake telling Jeonghan about your outing with Mingyu. It was a mistake even letting him come along, thinking oh, Mingyu is his mutual friend too through me, so he’ll definitely not mind if Han comes along. Mingyu did not mind, but you minded a lot. Because not only did Jeonghan come along wearing his most expensive Chanel outfit and his most limited edition perfume which you’ve never smelled before, but also brought along his most obnoxious attitude. 

Mingyu’s sister is an innocent darling, nearly six years younger than Mingyu, but his literal split image. And Mingyu is, as usual, accommodative. But there really is something wrong with Jeonghan tonight, you think. Every sentence he utters is passive aggressive, opinionated and designed to annoy. 

I think the air is too stuffy tonight to enjoy the cherry blossom show perfectly. 

I’m wearing my cherry blossom scent tonight, it was a gift from the last event I attended.

Mingyu, don’t hog Y/N all to yourself, let your sister meet your friends too. 

Oh, I don’t drink coffee these days. I’m into earl grey iced tea. Do they have that here?

“What on earth is wrong with you tonight, Jeonghan-ah?” You whisper-scream to him, as you draw him to one corner as Mingyu and his sister go towards the cafeteria to buy drinks for the four of you. “Why?” He says, casually pressing lip balm on his own lips, before extending the stick towards your lips, attempting to put the same balm on your (undoubtedly, chapped) lips, but you shrug away. 

“You’re being an arse. You know, it’s already a stretch that I brought you along here. So, don’t be obnoxious to everyone, especially Mingyu because his sister’s here!” 

“I’ve not been obnoxious for even a second, Y/N-ah! I’ve been so cheerful, so amiable, so wholesome tonight. I have not spoken my true mind for even one second, I’m literally speaking only pleasant words.”

“Oh, really? And what is your true mind?”

“That Mingyu is being too touchy with you.”

“Jeonghan! This- god- is that all you gathered from our lovely evening together, that you’re trying your best to spoil?”

“I mean- he makes it hard to not notice, does he not? He’s literally all over you, even when his sister is here. You should be thankful I’m here to keep company to his sis, otherwise imagine how bored she’d be as a third wheel.”

Right then Mingyu and his sister return with drinks for the four of you, and you resume your walk around the show. So you can’t reply to Jeonghan fittingly, but you notice that on the rest of the evening, you notice that his attitude has softened a little, especially when he talks enthusiastically to Mingyu’s sister about the program she’s selected, and even thanks Mingyu for letting him come along on this outing. 

When he drives you home that night and drops you off at your doorstep, he has the oddest smug grin lazily spread on his face. 

“I was right, then.” He tells you as you walk around the car to say bye to him at his window.

“Hmm?”

“It was a date.”

“Not this again, Jeonghan.”

“Hmm. Sure. Just so you know, I’m rarely wrong.”

“It was not a date. Not with you ruining every single conversation we had.”

“That was the point, wasn’t it? Goodnight, Y/N.” 

And then he drives off with a sharp salute, leaving you with nothing to say. 

_

Jeonghan doesn’t know you’re annoyed enough by him to not reply to his texts during work hours (which you otherwise would). So he doesn’t take the hint and calls you as soon as your work hours end, and you step out of your office into a world painted by the sunset.

“You didn’t say if my haircut looks good?”

You sigh, and you hope it’s loud enough for him to hear.

“Oh god, Y/N, are you still mad at me for that evening with Mingyu? What, did he say something today?” 

“No. He’s too nice to say anything, of course. Anyway, is it really so hard to wait for a few hours to see if I like your haircut or not?”

“Sorry. But I want to know. I’ve cut my hair short after ages, so-”

You take a quick look at the photos he’s sent you. “Hmm, yes you look great.”

“Really?” You can hear the upward lilt in his voice, and it makes you smile. 

“Yes really. Jeonghan-ah, I have that fair tomorrow. Will you be coming?”

“Is it through Saturday and Sunday?”

“Yeah. You don’t have to come throughout the two days, of course. You can just come tomorrow evening, if you’re free.”

“I am. I had a shoot today in the afternoon, after which I went and chopped off my hair instantly.”

“Good decision, Hannie.”

You can hear his satisfied voice grunt in the background. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow? I have a lot of packing work tonight, okay? I won’t be able to call or text.”

“That’s okay. I won’t disturb you. Work hard, Y/N-ie.”

“Yeah, okay. Bye, Han-ah.”

_

Although you might grumble when Jeonghan forgets the name of the plant when a customer arrives at your stall although he’s been your helper for so many fairs now, you’re really very grateful that he makes time to come. Sure enough, as the sun wears down after a particularly sweltering afternoon at the fair and you’re really craving an iced tea, Jeonghan arrives with a bright smile on his face and two glasses of boba tea for the two of you. 

“Your part-timer is here, Miss.” He says, and you hug him. “So happy to see me?” “No, this is for the boba tea.” And you fall back on your chair, chugging down the boba tea as if it’s elixir. He sits opposite to you, picking up an orchid plant that’s hanging on the wall next to him. “How was the footfall today?” “Not great, if I say the truth. But I’m hopeful for the evening. The morning was too hot anyway.” “Hmm, and what’s this one called? Never seen this flower before.” “It’s called vanda. Pretty, isn’t it?” “Hmm, really! But why doesn’t it have any pot or any soil?” “It’s epiphytic, so-” “Epi what?” “Epiphytic. It absorbs moisture from other plants near it and from humidity in the air.” “Wow. E-pi-phy-tic. Fancy new English word.” 

And you’re right. The customers do start strolling in as the atmosphere becomes cooler and the fair more crowded. Although there’s not a whole lot of variety at your stall, you have an edge because you generally sell rare varieties, which are less frequently visible in the other plants’ stalls at fairs. A lot of people think it’s an odd hobby for you to have at such a young age, but Jeonghan knows its the only way you pay homage to your mother, who had helped you fall in love with gardening at a very young age. After her death, you’d had to sell the house in the countryside and move to the city for a job, so you didn’t have a garden of your own, but you made do with plants you grew in your balconies and windows. That’s why your collection was more unique than the general lot- you provided beautiful, rare plants that fit right into modern life- fuss-free yet diverse. 

“This is a vanda orchid!” You see Jeonghan enthusiastically pitch to an ahjumma from the corner of your eye as you’re busy packing some hydrangea plants for another customer. “It’s really easy to keep in your house. It’s epiphytic, which means it absorbs water from its surroundings. So you don’t even need to keep it in a pot. You can just leave it in between other plants and regularly water the plants around it to keep a humid atmosphere, and it grows on its own! So little care!” And along with Jeonghan’s winning smile and persistent pitch, the ahjumma has no option but to fold almost instantly. 

That marks the beginning of a busy evening. The crowd suddenly increases and each of you soon have no time to breathe. It’s at moments like this that your gratitude towards Jeonghan increases- he may ask you the names of plants every two minutes, or make up some random facts about a plant while trying to sell it (pretty sure it would be called out if you did it, but the customers just blindly buy into whatever Jeonghan tells them). When passing behind, he gently pats your butt before bending behind you to retrieve something from the storage area. When you’re free for a second, you tap your hand on the small of his back, asking him to take a break as you take over the customers. It’s nearly nine o’clock before the crowd finally dissipates and you both can take a breather. 

“Good work, Han.” You gently card your fingers through Jeonghan’s newly trimmed hair. 

“Boy, am I glad I cut my hair before coming here. I’d sweat the hell out just by standing here with my old hair.”

“Hmm, it is much more manageable.”

There’s a pause as you both become silent for a long minute. From around you, you can see other stalls shutting down and the sounds of the fair quieten down. Your fingers form a pattern as you gently massage his scalp and his lower neck. You’re too busy taking in the scenery around you that you miss the way his eyes flutter close. 

“I had brunch with mom today.”

You sigh. 

“It felt good to show my new hair.” 

You turn around to look at him, and he opens his eyes. “What did she say?” 

“Nothing. She doesn’t say anything anymore, as long as I keep my hair for her shoots.”

“But it’s still hot outside.”

Jeonghan mumbles, “When has that mattered for her?” He turns away and suddenly gets up. “Y/N-ah, all the other stalls have shut down. Shouldn’t we pack up too? And anyway, the tteokbokki place won’t be open for long…” 

You laugh, and relent. “Okay, let’s feed the baby his treat, hmm? Thank you for coming and helping me out! It was pretty hectic today and we made a lot of sales, thanks to your charms that even the ahjussis cannot resist.” 

He smiles, “Well, what can I say, it’s not easy to be God’s favourite-” He can’t finish his sentence because you punch him softly on his chest, and he bursts out in giggles. “Let’s go get food, Han-ah.” “Hmm, let’s go!”

_

“Hannie, are you free tonight? There was an offer at the convenience store, so I bought two boxes of that pizza you like.” You ask him while you walk into your home after picking up groceries from the store. 

“Nah, I have plans with Seokmin today.”

“Seokmin?!” You ask, a little surprised. “You two are going out together? Wow, I didn’t know you were so close.”

“Oh! We’re inseparable. He’s too fun a guy to let go.”

You sigh. “Wow. Okay okay, enjoy, hmm?”

“Yeah. Do you wanna come? Shua will be there too.”

“Shua?! You’ve started again!”

“Literally no,” you can hear his laughter, and he says, “I didn’t even know Shua would be there until like an hour ago.”

“I bet the plan was made only an hour ago.”

He laughs again, “I’ll have to go now, okay? I’ll be late otherwise.”

It turns out to be a very high-end party of models in which Jeonghan has been invited, and he’s brought Seokmin as his plus-one. You get all this information from the news tabloids on your instagram, which flash extra-large sized photographs of Jeonghan and his new friend Seokmin, who everyone’s curious about. You then see stills of Joshua laughing away, dressed to the nines, arm-in-arm with Seokmin and Jeonghan. Of Joshua whispering something into Seokmin’s ears and Seokmin turning red even under the dim neon lights of the party. Of Joshua and Seokmin making an intense eye-contact, and Jeonghan smirking over his glass of whisky. 

Wow. 

His plan must be a success. Seokmin and Joshua do look like they’re going to hook up. 

Well, you’re just going to have to take the details from Jeonghan later, if that happens. 

You don’t stay online after that, so you miss all the photos of the late entrants of the party. 

_

It’s seven in the morning, and you’ve just woken up, when there’s a knock on your door. “Jeonghan?” Not only is he standing there with his eyes red and his clothes messed up, but you can also see hickeys blooming all over his neck, in shades of purple and red that look pretty against his milk skin. 

“I came here to see if I’m alive.”

You tilt your head towards one side, raising your eyebrows. “You seem alive to me.”

“Good, because I’ve gone to heaven and come back.” And without another word he enters and throws himself face-down on the couch and passes out instantly. 

You don’t wait around for him to wake up, and you figure his metaphorical statements can be cleared up after you’ve come back from work, so you leave him like that.

When you’re back, tired after a long day of work, you see him still lying there, except he’s changed that one shirt and sweatpants he’d left at your place a few months back, at your last sleepover, and he’s watching something on his phone. When you peer close from behind him, he doesn’t even notice you. Which is odd because Jeonghan is usually an alert sort of guy. 

It’s a video of a woman interacting with Jeonghan at last night’s party, her dress a blaze of flames, her dark hair falling in cascades around her lithe frame, and she giggles elegantly at something Jeonghan says, before he takes her hand in his own and kisses on her knuckles, and the video cuts off right there. 

“Who’s that?”

Jeonghan jolts up at that, dropping his phone on the ground, and letting out a tiny yelp. Then he sits up and lightly punches your arm. “You scared me.”

“I literally came in through the door, what if I was a thief and you hadn’t even noticed me?”

“Why would a thief come into your house, what are you doing for its security, huh?”

“God,” you sigh. “I see you’ve made yourself at home. Who were you looking at?”

He walks towards the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

“Heaven. I went to heaven last night.”

“Yes, you told me. What happened, can you explain simply?”

“I met her. That’s what happened.”

“Who?” you ask again, ignoring the dazed look in his eyes as he looks out of the window. 

“Her! Did you see her?”

“I did. Is she famous? Am I supposed to be knowing her?”

“Well. I don’t know. I don’t think you would know her. I mean, I’ve never met her before then clearly, you wouldn’t know her-”

“Then tell me who she is.”

“Han Sujin. She’s the daughter of the owner of Han Electronics.”

“Really? Wow. Must be filthy rich.”

“Is that all you gathered?” Jeonghan turns around to look at you incredulously, and you retort, “Well what else is there to gather?” “Maybe the fact that she looks like an angel?” “She does look gorgeous. Did you sleep with her last night?” Jeonghan sighs. “No. I slept with someone else, but I’ve not been able to get her out of my mind! This has never happened before!” 

You stare at him. “You’re right, it has not.” 

“Am I falling in love, Y/N?” 

“I don’t… know? It’s a little too early to say, isn’t it?” 

“I’ve been dreaming about her for twenty four hours now, I’m pretty damn sure it’s love.”

You gulp, realising he’s not going to hear your voice of reason now. So you switch the topic. “What happened with Shua and Seokminnie?”

“Huh?”

“Joshua? Seokmin? You set them up last night, I know.”

“Oh that.” He runs a hand through his hair. “That went well, as far as I remember. Well, I didn’t really notice them much after she came in. They went off to get drinks, Joshua’s hand was gripping Seokmin’s bicep very suggestively, so I’m sure that went well.”

“You were so blown away by this woman that you missed out on your little pet project?”

“Shame, isn’t it? But no matter. I’ll call Seokmin tomorrow and find out about it. Y/N-ah, do you know anything more about Sujin?”

“I literally just told you I don’t even know her-”

“Ugh! I have to meet her again, somehow!” And he lets out a dramatic huff of exasperation before lying down on the couch again. 

_

“Seokmin?” You’re surprised to see Seokmin at Jeonghan’s place when you drop by on Friday night. “Y/N! Jeonghan didn’t tell me you’re coming.” “Nah I just came by on an impulse. What are you doing here?” He stands up, his face red with excitement. “Joshua invited me to his housewarming party!” He pauses for a second, waiting for your reaction. He’s clearly expecting a very happy reaction, so you humour him with a bright smile. He doesn’t see how fake the smile is, and he claps his hands with yours. “Oh, isn’t it going to be so much fun, Y/N-ah?”

Just then Jeonghan walks into the room, and calls out your name. 

“Did you hear? Seokmin is in the circle now!”

“Yes, that’s pretty cool. But then, who wouldn’t want Seokmin as their friend,” you smile. 

“Not friend, Y/N. Seokmin is Joshua’s specially invited guest. He sent roses with the invitation!” 

There’s another loud squeal from behind you and you turn to see Seokmin rubbing his face with his hands, making it even more red than it is already. 

“I saw y’all had fun at that last party.”

His blush goes down till his neck and collarbones. “Yes, it was such a high-end party. There actors, models, singers, idols, and chaebols everywhere! And the food was so awesome- although I’ve never eaten any of them before and I don’t think I’d be able to eat them anywhere else because they looked too fancy.”

You giggle. “But would you go back a second time?”

Seokmin thinks for a second, before whispering scandalously, “If Joshua wasn’t there, I don’t think I would.” 

You laugh at that, extending your hand for a high-five. “Same! They get boring after a point because I simply cannot fit in.”

“That’s true! Although Joshua introduced me to so many people, I don’t think I could make eye contact with any of them.” 

You continue laughing at that. “But I gather you really had a good time with Joshua.”

Jeonghan intercepts. “Good time?” He scoffs. “They made out in the backseat of my car.”

Seokmin whines at Jeonghan’s slightly strict voice, “We didn’t have any other spot because I came with y-”

Jeonghan laughs, “I’m not mad, hey! It’s just funny that Joshua chose to make out in my car and not his-”

“That’s because his car was farther away and the valet took longer to bring it along.”

Seokmin gets a call and he excuses himself for a second. You take that opportunity to turn around and look at Jeonghan, who’s sitting right behind you. “So?” You raise one eyebrow, “Looks like your plan will come through.” “When am I ever wrong?” “But be careful, this is first-” “Oh god. Even after coming so far, you’re going to ask me to be cautious?” “ Because you need to be. Seokmin is such a soft soul- do you see how excited he is just by receiving flowers from Joshua?”

Jeonghan stands up. “But I don’t recollect Joshua ever sending flowers to anyone before. And I’ve known Joshua for long enough, you know.”

You sigh, twisting your lips in displeasure. 

“Still. I just don’t want anyone’s hearts to be broken by your meddling.”

_

An invite arrives at your house as well. There are no roses, but at least some beautiful gerberas. But Jeonghan’s meddling does not stop. Nor does it slow down in pace. Before Joshua’s housewarming party, Jeonghan ensures that Seokmin and Joshua bump into each other at least three times. First, on Monday, at the coffee shop Joshua and Jeonghan often eat brunch together after hungover weekends. Second, on Tuesday, at a pop-up store Joshua has been invited to inaugurate. Third, on Friday, at Jeonghan’s mother’s flagship store, where Joshua was invited to browse through the latest collections at the same time that Seokmin was taken by Jeonghan to choose an outfit he’d like for the housewarming party. 

It’s getting a little too forced. Seokmin doesn’t see it because of his rose-tinted glasses of infatuation. Jeonghan doesn’t see it because he’s desperate for success. But you do see it. Seoul is not a small city. It’s incredibly hard to run into the same person three times in the same week, right after making out with them. But you also know that Jeonghan will turn a deaf ear to any of your words now. 

So you don’t broach this topic of conversation for the rest of the week, until the day of the housewarming party. As always, you’re never too sure of what to wear to any of these parties of Jeonghan’s friends, because you’re sure all these models have their secret dress codes planned and you always seem out of place. It’s not that you don’t enjoy dressing up, and you also have the advantage of being able to borrow dresses from Jeonghan’s mother. But somehow, you never fit in. Or perhaps you don’t try hard enough and you don’t want to put in that much effort either. So you settle for a baby blue dress with little yellow butterflies embroidered throughout. It’s a safe bet for a cocktail party, so you’re hoping it’s not going to be a wild night. 

Jeonghan arrives at your door right when you’re about to leave for the party.

“We’re going together?”

“Have we ever not gone together?”

You open your lips to say that you had thought he’d be going with Seokmin, but he interrupts you. “You look good.” You notice that he’s wearing a grey silk blouse that fits him like a glove, paired with golden earrings. “So do you.”

“The paparazzi are saying I would look better with my old hair.” He bites his lips and averts your gaze. 

“Where did they see you?” 

“Oh, I was getting out of my house. There were a few people outside.” 

“The paparazzi don’t matter.”

“Yes. They don’t matter. But for what it’s worth- they’re not lying.”

You sigh. “Let’s go, Han-ah. We don’t want to be late.” You’re well aware of the insecurities Jeonghan has about his hair, so you don’t want to say anything more. You remember all the times when Jeonghan’s cried next to you because his mother is obsessed with him having perfect looks, because she knows very well that her designer brand blew up ever since Jeonghan started modelling for it. You also remember Jeonghan being bullied by boys in high school because of his long hair, in response to which you’d cut your hair to a crew cut, making an odd visual when you both walked through school corridors. You know that the reason that Jeonghan spends so much time at your house in spite of having his own house, is because he wants to be as far away from his mother as possible, who only sees him as a source of revenue. And you’ve tried but given up trying to mend his relationship with her, primarily because Jeonghan’s mother disapproves of his friendship with you and considers you as the reason why her son does not listen to her. 

“Wow. Joshua has spent a lot, clearly.”

The penthouse is absolutely stunning. Definitely as expected from South Korea’s top model. The guest list seems to be hand-picked, with the paparazzi stopped outside the gates, providing full privacy to the guests. And yet again, you’ve dressed quite differently from what everyone is wearing. You’re now fully convinced that there’s a secret dress code that they don’t tell non-celebrities to purposely make them feel left out. 

But Joshua is the perfect host. He greets you almost as soon as you two enter, successfully avoiding all the cameras flashing at the entrance. 

“It’s so beautiful. Love the asymmetric design, and all the glass detailing outside.”

Joshua smiles that disarmingly charming smile of his, as you sip on the glass of champagne. “I’m so glad you liked it. Now that I’ve impressed someone in the housing industry, I know I’ve invested in the right property.” 

“You certainly have. The view is also idyllic, displaced from the general crowds, but you still get a view of the Han.” 

Jeonghan groans next to you, clearly bored with the talk, but Joshua’s smile widens at the praise. 

“I’d like you to come around someday in the morning, when the sun is still up. The view is even more spectacular.”

“So cool, I’d be able to see the design even better then! Thanks. You know Mingyu, my colleague? He’d really appreciate the design.”

“Oh yeah, he did praise it highly.” 

You pause for a second. “Sorry- he- he’s seen it already? Did he design it, by any chance?” 

Joshua laughs. “No, but he’s here as Seokmin’s plus-one.”

You turn to look at Jeonghan, who also looks at you at the exact same moment, eyes wide. “Wow, I did not know that,” you gulp, before laughing the embarrassment off awkwardly. 

“Yeah, they’re up near the mini-bar. Now, if you’ll just excuse me-” and Joshua walks away with a polite smile, waving hi to someone in the distance.

“I did not see that coming.” Jeonghan says. “Seokmin must’ve lost his nerve and brought him along. Good, now Joshua will be more jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Didn’t you see how Joshua’s smile tightened when he talked about Mingyu?”

You stare at Jeonghan for a solid second, before looking away because he did not break the gaze, determined to prevail. 

“Let’s go and find Mingyu and Seokmin, hmm?”

_

You do stick to Mingyu’s side throughout the evening, as Jeonghan goes out to mingle and Seokmin is soon called to Joshua’s side as they go to see the other side of the house. 

“Wanna bet?”

You’re stuffing your mouth with the croutons on the cheese fondue plate you’d received along with your glasses of wine, while Mingyu ravishes the delicately baked egg tarts he’s seemed to fall in love with. 

“On what, Gyu?”

You were wrong earlier. Seokmin and Mingyu do not look out of place. Seokmin is wearing an all black outfit, the shirt with a low neck which accentuates his excellent figure, while Mingyu wears a charcoal grey turtleneck and glasses, which you’ve never seen him wear before except when he’s working on something intently. They both look exactly in place, especially Mingyu. You’ve noticed multiple people send flirtatious smiles towards Mingyu, but he keeps his eyes on yours while the two of you talk at the edge of the bar. 

“On Joshua and Seokmin. I bet that they’ll be dating by the end of the month.”

You laugh. “Sure. What do you want if you win?”

“I don’t know. Loser takes the other out to dinner?”

“Cool. But Mingyu… by the end of the month… you may be short on cash.”

“Me?! Hah! I’m not going to lose. Have you seen how Joshua’s undressing Seokmin with his eyes?”

You tilt your head in amusement. “Did you know that lust does not equate dating?”

“I do! But Seokmin isn't the type of guy to like someone based on lust purely.”

“I agree. But Joshua might just be.”

Mingyu squints his eyes, then shakes his head. “I doubt. He sent roses, you know. That can only mean one thing.”

“We’ll see.” You clink your glass to Mingyu’s before sipping it. Your eyes trace the large lawn area to see if you can spot Jeonghan, but it’s hard to find him under the dim lights. Thank god for Mingyu, you think. Otherwise you’d be bored to death tonight, and drink yourself to death on the open bar. 

“Say, Mingyu. Who do you think will get married earlier from our friends? We’re all pushing thirty now, you know.”

“Twenty-five isn’t pushing thirty.” He pouts, clearly upset at the idea. “I don’t want to be called an ahjussi anytime soon so don’t say things like that.”

You pinch his cheek, which deflates his pout into a smile. “My question still stands.”

“Well, I think Seungcheol will get married first. He’s really smitten with his girlfriend, I don’t see why they’re not married yet.”

“Hmm, I agree. He’s the oldest amongst us as well.”

“By that metric, Jeonghan would be married next. I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“Do you think Jeonghan would ever? He’s told me many times that he's not interested in settling down.”

“That’s all big talk. Going to change the second he meets someone he likes. And from what I hear, that may not be too far-”

“Oh here you are!” The man in question arrives at the spot, cheeks flushed with excitement. There’s a woman walking right behind him. It’s her, you realise. The girl from that night, the girl he was so desperate to meet again. So he has met her again, you see. 

“Sujin, this is my best friend, Y/L/N  Y/N, and her colleague, Kim Mingyu.” You do a light bow, while the woman in front of you smiles elegantly while bowing in return. “I’m Han Sujin. Such a pleasure to meet you two. Are you also in the modelling world, Mingyu-ssi?” 

Oh. 

You don’t miss how her question is directed to Mingyu only. 

Mingyu grins, “No, I’m an architect. Y/N and I work for a housing estate firm.”

“Oh? Such a shame. What a waste, isn’t it, Jeonghan-ah?” You wish Mingyu would shrug his hand away as she drags one carefully manicured nail along the edge of his bicep. You wish Jeonghan would also react, but he doesn’t seem to move at all except one smirk. Perhaps this is normal for them? You don’t know why it’s annoying you then. Maybe because you don’t like this undue attention she’s giving Mingyu, clearly flirtatious as she leans into him to whisper something into his ears which you miss as you zone out of the conversation. Maybe because Jeonghan is still looking at her as if she’s a goddess, which is so uncharacteristic of him, leaving you second-guessing every damn thing you’ve understood about him till now. The ugly head of something raises its head in your chest, but you don’t know what it is so you really can’t quash it either. You wish it wouldn’t be so- you wish you could be normal about this, whatever this minuscule interaction has been. But you decide in your mind. You don’t like this woman at all. 

But as the night winds away, one thing becomes clear to you. 

There’s no one else who has the same opinion as you. They’re all clearly in love with her. Folding over for her. And perhaps you understand- she’s everything you expect a rich, high-class, beautiful, elegant and socially supreme woman to be. She’s the perfect woman, the epitome of one’s dreams. 

No wonder she’s the first woman Jeonghan is falling in love with. And falling in love, he is. It’s in the cherry eyes he’s throwing her, the way he’s blushing everytime she introduces him to someone all while clasping her fingers around her arm, the way the small of his hand rests on her pristine back which is left naked in the backless dress she’s wearing, the way she seems to have inside jokes with him because you can’t catch half of the things they’re saying but they seem to be laughing a good deal over it. 

You don’t wait for Jeonghan to offer you a ride home. You know he will not. So when Mingyu offers to drop you home after dinner, you jump to his offer.

_

Something changes from that night onwards. Two things had clearly happened that night. First, Seokmin and Joshua did sleep together. As per Mingyu’s details, when Mingyu had gone to Seokmin’s house the next night to pick up something, he’d found Joshua casually lying on Seokmin’s bed, wearing Seokmin’s favourite red jersey and no pants, and both of them had been covered in hickeys, but he had not been able to ask anything else because Joshua was right there. 

Second, Jeonghan had definitely become enamoured with Sujin. Such that over the rest of the week, you barely see him, only communicating through a couple of texts here and there. His instagram story receives more updates than you do- and his soft launching definitely fails because his dates with Sujin are so obvious. 

It doesn’t matter. 

You make yourself busy with work. It doesn’t matter when the entire

It doesn’t matter that you have another fair coming up this weekend and you clearly remember telling Jeonghan about it a few days back. But he doesn’t come to help. He doesn’t even call before the fair, to wish you luck. For that matter, he doesn’t even call after it. 

It doesn’t matter that your mother’s death anniversary comes and goes, and Jeonghan breaks the four year old tradition of the two of you visiting her grave and spending the entire day together.

It doesn’t matter that Jeonghan has never gone this long without meeting you, but it doesn’t matter. You’re twenty-five. You’ve lost friends before, you can make do with losing another one. 

_

“So, it’s the last Friday of the month. I remember a bet…”

You sidle up to Mingyu’s desk as the work day comes to an end, gently sitting against the edge of his desk. 

“Fuck. I can’t believe I lost it, Y/N.” He leans back against his chair, stretching his arms behind him. He’s wearing a short sleeved polo shirt today, so his biceps strain against the sleeves. You wonder again how many hours he dedicates to the gym every day. 

“Well. It doesn’t matter now, does it? You’ve lost it, now don’t act like a sore loser. Where are you taking me out?” 

“So it’s a date?” He suddenly stands up, so that your eyes are at his chest level, and your breath is knocked away. 

“Where did that come from?”

“I’m the one taking you out, so it’s my rules.”

You smile. “You could’ve told me before. I’m dressed shabbily today.”

“Huh? I think this blouse suits you perfectly. The red makes your lips look… brighter.”

You gulp, as Mingyu takes another step towards you, almost locking you into his desk. “Pack up so we can leave early, Y/N. Don’t wanna miss our reservation.”

_

“This looks expensive.” You feel underdressed for the high-end Mingyu has brought you to. “Are you sure this is the place you booked your reservation at?”

“You heard them saying that this table was for Kim Mingyu, didn’t you?”

“Still.” The place is too cold, it makes a shiver run down your spine.

“Have you ever been here before? What’s good?” You ask Mingyu when you’re offered the menu card by a server, and Mingyu asks her for the special wine of the restaurant as if he’s already tried it before. 

“The pasta is good. But I particularly enjoy their paella. But of course, it’s your call-”

“Dude, I can't even read all these english names. I’ll eat whatever you recommend. It is your treat afterall.”

“Alright then.” So Mingyu orders two plates of seafood paella and the pesto pizza. 

“Seems like you came all prepared to lose the bet? A reservation here could not have been easy.” “Well, it was some luck. But it’s kinda unbelievable that I did lose the bet. How has it been twenty days since they’ve been hooking up but still not dating? Maybe they’re just, like, secretly dating. And not announcing it. ‘Cause Joshua is a celeb and all.” “Perhaps. But I would think Seokmin is close enough a friend of yours to tell you if he did get into the first relationship of his life.” Mingyu pouts, his eyebrows furrowed as he drinks some of the wine that just got served. 

“I just hope he doesn’t get his heart broken, Gyu.”

The man in front of you shakes his head. “Don’t worry. Seokmin may be innocent but he’s cautious. He wouldn’t go in deep if he wasn’t sure of Joshua’s feelings too.” He gingerly edges his fingers towards your palm resting on the table, and gently caresses your fingers, sending shivers down your spine. “Y/N, let’s take our mind off the bet for some time, hmm? If I’m taking you out for the first time, I want it to be a date, and I want it… I want to do it the right way. Will you let me do it the right way?” 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Mingyu doesn’t have to make it more explicit, you understand well enough what he’s trying to say. But you still ask him, because you can’t wrap your head around it. 

“What do you mean, Gyu?”

He smiles, his cheeks glowing with happiness. “It means I’m asking you for a chance, Y/N. I like you. Let me show you how much I like you. Will you let me?” The intensity of his gaze and his gentle but firm grip on your fingers mean that he’s waiting for a response, but you’re literally taken aback and speechless. That took a quick turn. You had hardly expected that Mingyu did actually like you. All that banter and friendly touching? It was not your fault for thinking any good-looking man with flirtatious tendencies probably did that with every woman he saw. 

Fuck, Jeonghan was right about Mingyu liking me. Wow. What would the look on his face be when you’d tell him about this?

As soon as Jeonghan’s face crops up into your mind, the pleasant buzz of the situation dissipates into an anger you cannot understand. The faint traces of a drunk conversation from months’ ago float into your mind. 

Men like him aren’t worth chasing, you know.

Men like him? Why do you say that so condescendingly, Jeonghan?

Because I don’t understand the hype about him. Sure, big arms and height and all. But he’s after all just an average man. Using greasy pick up lines, wearing printed t-shirts, looking to marry and have three kids as soon as possible, and then grow old with dogs in a house he’s still paying the loan for, until retirement and then popping off. Just like that, he’s gone. Nothing remarkable about him for people to even remember him. Jeez, I really do not get the craze for unpolished men like him. I didn’t think you’d also be like other women and like him.

Ridiculous, ridiculous opinions. At that moment, you’d dismissed his statements as his usual drunken ludicrousness, but now an intense anger grows in you. As you see Mingyu sitting in front of you, his fingers still clasping yours, eyes shining with genuine fondness, you think how wrong Jeonghan was. Mingyu may not be a celebrity. He may not be a model with thousands of fans looking for him. Sure, he may be making just a regular paycheck at the end of the month. 

But he still wants to take a date out to a fancy high-end restaurant you know is beyond his affordability. He still wants you to give him a chance and he’s willing to work hard for it. He’s not an entitled bitch who thinks he can dump off a twenty-year old friendship for some random hot woman he met the other night, because he’s too busy thinking with his dick, too busy exploring the feeling of an infatuation because he’s never felt anything like that before and-

Mingyu gently rubs your fingers, breaking you out of your head. 

You heave in a deep breath, and say, “Yes, Mingyu. I… I can’t say anything about my feelings right now, though-”

“And that’s okay! I don’t want to force anything on you either. Your feelings are your feelings. Give me one chance and let me change your mind.” 

Mingyu’s smile is ever so genuine, his canines poking out of the side of his mouth. He picks your hand and slowly brings it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. 

And you should melt at the sweet gesture. You should melt at the feel of his soft, full lips touching your hand. You should melt at how big his hands feel against your smaller ones, the way his big fingers grasp your smaller wrist.

But it gives you deja vu from a distant memory and you avert your gaze. 

Thankfully, the pizza arrives just then and you two can dig in. 

_

When the bill arrives, Mingyu doesn’t even let you see it. You let him pay it, knowing his ego is too proud. Somehow, the fact that this was the outcome of him losing the bet has escaped your mind and you’ve realised it was all a ploy to get you out on dinner. 

“Did you design the bet in order to take me out to dinner?” You shyly ask him, as you both make your way out of the restaurant towards the spot where his car is parked.

He laughs, and whispers back to you, as you sit down in his car. “Guilty as charged. Did you really have no idea of my feelings?” 

You smile, no idea why the two of you are whispering but it feels strangely alright. It makes you feel like a high school forbidden romance, and he’s treating you like those ambitious teens who want to give the best date to their crush like you see in movies. With all the attention and compliments he’s given you over the last two hours, he hasn’t made you a tad bit uncomfortable, rather you’re quite floating on clouds right now. No one has ever made you feel you so wanted. Especially at a time when you feel particularly unwanted. 

“I did not, I swear. I thought it was your usual thing. The banter and all.”

He laughs again. He seems to be laughing a lot more than usual, and that’s okay with you. It adds to his warmth and his charm, and you like the sound too. 

“I think I fell for you ages ago. Ever since you shifted to that desk next to me.”

“Hell no. That was eight months back.”

“Uh-huh. What’s wrong with that?”

“It took you eight months to ask me out, Mingyu?” You scoff at him, squinting your eyes. “You’re a sore loser then. That’s way too long to crush on someone at this age.”

“I am a sore loser, I didn’t have the guts.” He giggles. His hand extends over the console to find your hand resting on your thigh, and he gently wraps his fingers around yours. “To be honest, I thought you were dating Jeonghan at first.” You let his fingers be on your hand, and you squeeze his meaty fingers. “That’s ridiculous. Jeonghan and I have never been that sort of thing.” “Really? I mean, it’s not obvious. But I kinda figured it out when we started mingling in the same circle and going out for parties with common friends and all. Seokmin and I both thought you and Jeonghan were a thing until we noticed how often he slept around with others.” 

You shudder. You don’t want to talk about Jeonghan now. God, Jeonghan was so wrong. Average man? No. Sincere man. Mingyu was a genuine man, and what was wrong in wanting to get married and have kids early? At least he didn’t have a vanity the size of the moon and an absolute disregard for others’ feelings. 

“Mingyu, you know my house is on the other side of the town. You don’t have to drive all the way up there. I can take the bus, it’s not that late.”

“What?” He squeezes your fingers, which have remained entangled in his own. “No. Of course I’ll drop you. Why would I want to cut our time together short?” That makes you blush wildly. You can’t believe the kind of cheesy stuff that comes out of his mouth so casually, almost fully seriously. 

“Mingyu! Stop saying things like that.”

“Why? Does it make your heart flutter?” 

And there’s a red light, so he turns to look at you, and you realise he’s close enough for you to smell his cologne. He smells good even at the end of the day. The cologne is from a cheap brand, the artificial fragrances make that obvious. Nothing like Jeonghan’s expensive bergamot fragrance you’ve gotten used to. But you’re not going to think about him. So you don’t. 

You lean in closer towards Mingyu. 

“You know, it’s not a working day tomorrow.”

His eyes go slightly dilated as he stares back at you. His grip on your hand tightens as you inch closer. “Yes, and?”

“Do you want to watch the World Cup finals game tonight, together?”

A very cocky, but an excited smirk spreads across his face. “Are you sure? Of course I want to.” His voice is still a whisper, but his excitement makes it shrill and cute. “Do you want to come to my place? I have snacks and soju at home, we can have a full binge session while we watch the match. Which team do you s-”

“Hey, pretty boy! Don’t speak so fast.” He pouts, but it’s extremely cute. “Mingyu, it’s a green light.”

He looks away from you and suddenly jerks into place, and you laugh. “You’re such a baby, Kim Mingyu.”

_

So you do end up at his place. You change into a spare set of clothes that he lends you, and you two spend a solid three hours laughing and watching the match. By the end of it, your eyes are red from staring at his large TV but you both fight sleep to watch the penalty kicks and the final winning shot. And when the last penalty kick is hit, and the team you both have been supporting is declared the winner, you both jump into the air, your popcorn spilling everywhere, but the giggles and the dopamine makes it worth it. You end up sleeping on the couch, and Mingyu on the carpet on the floor, semi-drunk after finishing three bottles of soju between the two of you. And then you’re out like a light, with no dreams and no disturbances even though the couch isn’t really comfy.

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of a doorbell. When you open your eyes, you see a ton of sunlight streaming in through the windows. Must be at least ten in the morning for the sun to be this bright. Mingyu is still asleep, his legs tangled with the blanket he brought last night, and his hair mussed up. Not wanting to wake him up, and realising that you look decent enough to open the door, you peep through the eye-hole, before gasping and immediately opening the door. 

“Seokmin?”

“Y/N?” There’s a croak in his voice, like it’s broken. His eyes are wide, like he hasn’t been expecting you. “Sorry- I- Mingyu and I were watching the match last night so I slept here. We didn’t sleep together or anything-” “No, you don’t have to explain. Is Mingyu here?” “Yeah, I’ll just be leaving. You can talk to him, don’t mind me!” 

Mingyu wakes up at the sound of your conversation, and comes to the door equally surprised to find Seokmin standing there. He takes up the rein of the conversation and it’s only now that you notice how gloomy Seokmin’s face looks- clouded with worries and a seriousness you’ve never seen in him before. It’s an odd look because you thought it impossible to ever see Seokmin look downcast like this. 

“Is something wrong?” Mingyu asks him softly, drawing him a little away from you, and you understand. It may be a private thing between friends, you wouldn’t want to intrude. 

“No, it’s okay if Y/N hears.” Seokmin clears his throat and turns around to face you. 

“Joshua… cheated on me. No, that- that’s wrong. We were never together, he said. So he was never exclusive. We were never exclusive. So he’s been cheating on me since the first day… No, what I mean is-”

“Fuck.” You mutter under your breath, as you see Seokmin struggling with his words, his eyes on the floor. “Are you sure, Seokmin-ah? Did you see him-”

“I went to this house this morning. To surprise him. We were supposed to meet yesterday but I had to cancel, so…” he runs a hand through his hair. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” And your heart breaks at the misery painted across his face, so you pull him into your arms and he instantly breaks down and starts crying in your shoulder. You can see Mingyu looking equally distressed, so you pull him into the hug too, and the two of you take turns to comfort Seokmin as he sputters out the rest of the story in between sobs. 

“Hadn’t you spoken to him before about dating and all, Seokmin-ah?” Mingyu asks him, but Seokmin shakes his head. “I hadn’t… because I was too scared he would reject me. Of course, I was okay with us not having tags until he wanted to… of course, I understand that he is a celebrity and these sorts of things are probably okay between them but… It still hurts, I’m sorry.” “You should not be sorry, Seokmin-ah. It’s literally not your fault that Joshua was an absolute jerk,” you say, patting his back. “Mingyu, can you take care of Seokmin-ah? I have to go talk to Jeonghan about this.” “Jeonghan?” Seokmin looks at you with wide eyes, and you simply nod without elaborating. “Joshua will regret losing you, Seokmin.” 

Jeonghan will regret his meddling.

_

When you arrive at Jeonghan’s house, you find that his mother thankfully is not there. It wouldn’t matter anyway. In their four storey mansion, you and his mother have rarely clashed when avoidable. Although you let yourself in, you find Jeonghan’s bedroom locked, slow jazz music clearly audible. 

You bang on the door. 

No response. 

“Jeonghan, open up.” 

The door opens after a solid ten seconds, with a curious Jeonghan peering down at you. “Y/N?” He’s shirtless, his pale, glowing skin shining in the sunlight. “Is she here?” “Who?” “That woman.” “No.” You snort. Look at him, all blissfully unaware about the damage he’s done. You notice how he doesn’t open the door fully to let you come in, which is absurd. “You won’t let me in? Have we ceased to be friends?” “No, I- sorry. Come in.” “What?” “Those are not your clothes. You don’t own red clothes. You don’t even like the colour red.” You look down at your clothes and realise that you’re still dressed in Mingyu’s clothes. “Yeah, they’re Mingyu’s.” Jeonghan looks up from where he’s standing, trying to put on a shirt. He stops midway and walks closer towards you, “You’re wearing Mingyu’s clothes?” “Yes, and?” 

The beauty of Yoon Jeonghan hits you with full force as he steps into your personal space, all up close until you can count his long eyelashes. You can see the way his gaze hardens, his eyes darken, and his jaw locks itself, making his face more serious and less delicate. “Did you sleep with him?” “Jeonghan, there’s something else I came to talk to you about-” “Did you?” His finger grazes your chin. The touch is not unfamiliar, but not familiar either. It sends a shiver down your spine as you take a step back, without breaking eye contact. 

“I don’t have to answer you, Jeonghan. Not after you decided to go MIA after meeting one woman-”

“I did not go MIA.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Yoon! Fuck, do you have no conscience, lying to my face like that? Why did you stop calling me? Stop coming over? Avoided every time I planned to meet up with you?”

“I was busy.”

“With what? What on earth could make you so busy that you missed my mother’s death anniversary? What on earth could make you so busy that you felt it was normal to not talk to me properly for days? Years of friendship, broken by what? I want to know, Jeonghan! Was it her? Does she ask you not to talk to me?”

“No, what? Why would you bring her into-”

“Then why? Are you really the same Jeonghan who wanted to video call every week even when you had gone abroad for that study program? Are you really the same Jeonghan who swore that even if you got married with ten grandchildren, you wouldn’t lose contact with me?”

“Y/N, listen to me.”

“No, I’m not going to fall for your lies-”

He steps in front of you and gently places his left hand on your mouth. “I’m sorry.” There’s that intense gaze again. He wraps his other hand around your arm, holding you in place. “Listen to me, once, please?” You look away, and you make the mistake of looking down at his chest. You didn’t realise he was still shirtless. And while it’s not a view you’re seeing for the first time and it’s never really phased you before, you swear your mouth goes dry seeing the way a single silver chain hangs in front of his collarbones. 

“What is it, Jeonghan? What do you have to say?”

“I’m sorry, I made a mistake.”

There’s a pause, where you expect him to say something else, but he doesn’t continue. “That’s it?” You raise an eyebrow, and you see his jaw twitch. 

“Yes. I don’t have an explanation because there isn’t any. I was infatuated with Sujin until I found out on the internet after our photos of kissing went viral last night from a club.”

“Until you found your photos went viral? What happened, did your agency cut you off?” 

“What- no, of course not. My agency has it under control.”

“Then? Fans pressurised-”

“No, dammit. She’s not been talking to me since the incident. But she’ll come around. She’s probably a little shocked because of the paparazzi.”

You sigh. “Well. At least your life’s under control.”

“What do you mean?” Jeonghan’s eyes slightly furrow as he leans into you. Your nostrils fill with that typical scent of his, but it’s the first time you can smell his masculine scent too, perhaps because he is shirtless. But you refuse to be taken off guard, so you harden your gaze and look back into his stare with full force. 

“Seokmin…”

“What about Seokmin?”

“Joshua’s been fucking other people apart with Seokmin.”

Jeonghan steps back. “Seriously?”

“Yes. You’ve broken his heart, Jeonghan.” You can’t help from throwing him your most disappointed look, reflecting your real feelings. “You knew that he is a playboy and I’d told you that he would not take Seokmin seriously. I told you to not meddle, and look at what you’ve done now.”

Jeonghan falls to the bed behind him with a loud thud. His voice cracks when he asks you, “Is Seokmin okay?” 

You bitterly shake your head. “It was his first relationship. Think of how he’d feel after finding out the man he loves didn’t love him all along.”

_

There was nothing to be done that day, except you going back to Mingyu’s place, both to return his clothes, but also to check on Seokmin. You brought soup and some more comfort food, and found Seokmin sitting in one corner of Mingyu’s bed, wrapped in a blanket but still shivering because of the tears that kept flowing down his cheeks from time-to-time. 

Jeonghan goes to meet Joshua. You don’t know how much good that’s going to do, considering that Joshua is a stubborn man. And to be honest, you wouldn’t want Seokmin to go back to Joshua either. There was a high chance that the sensitive younger boy’s feelings would get hurt again, and you didn’t want to take that chance. 

And you’re proved right. When Jeonghan comes to Mingyu’s house after talking to Joshua, he begs forgiveness from Seokmin, who doesn’t blame him at all. He instead cries a bit more, blaming himself and his innocence, and his inability to understand Joshua’s feelings correctly. Hearing him cry, Jeonghan cries too, the two wrapped up in each other, as you and Mingyu leave them alone to sort out the mess. It is a mess, but nothing Jeonghan says makes it better. It doesn’t matter how many times Jeonghan tries to explain to Seokmin that it’s not his fault, because Seokmin has shut off all voices of reason. 

So you take Jeonghan away from him. He’s quiet throughout the journey back home, swimming in his guilt. And your heart breaks a little seeing him. 

He doesn’t respond to your voice when you ask him to get out of the car and come into your house, so you open the door and gently take him into your arms and carry him inside, his arms limp in yours. 

“Hannie?” You ask him when you’re finally inside and you’ve seated him on your kitchen stool. 

“I let him down. I let you down, Y/N.”

His eyes gradually look up at you, and you can see the raw vulnerability in his doe eyes. But you cannot comfort him. A part of your heart aches to touch him, to let him know that it isn’t his fault either, but another part of your heart thinks that he deserves it. His self-important ass should take a blow from time-to-time, and realise that everything in the world does not revolve around him.

So you don’t reply to him, only walking away. You busy yourself with other chores around the house, doing the laundry, cleaning the rooms, washing the dishes. And Jeonghan just sits there in that chair throughout, waiting for you to finish your work, as he looks at you with sad wide eyes. 

You don’t miss what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to throw puppy eyes so that you can forgive him. But you won’t forgive him. It’s only when you finish making dinner and place some of it before him on a plate, that you speak to him. “Eat up. Both of us haven’t eaten anything since the morning.”

He doesn’t look away from you, not making a move towards the plate. 

“Jeonghan. Looking at me like that is not going to mend things.”

“Like what?”

“Like that. Puppy fucking eyes. I’m not going to melt because of that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re feeling sorry. I feel sorry too, if it makes you feel any better. In spite of knowing what kind of man Joshua potentially could be, I didn’t do anything to caution him. I’m as much to blame as anyone else.” 

“No, you’re wrong. It is my fault, through and through.”

You push the plate of food towards him. 

“Enough of your self-pity. Now, eat, please.”

Hearing your stern tone, he silently picks up his chopsticks. And then you only talk to him after he’s finished his entire meal. “Do you want more? You must be hungry.” “Hmm, if there’s any more.” So you give him some more, and finally, when he’s done, some of the natural glow comes back into his face. 

“Do you want to go home now? Or-”

“Can I stay here? I don’t want to go home.” When you don’t immediately respond, he adds, “I can sleep on the couch.”

“Have you ever slept on the couch, Han?”

He looks away. “I’ll wash the dishes.” So you leave him to do that and go into your bedroom to brush your teeth. He doesn’t come into the room for the next hour, not until you’ve changed into your night clothes and snuggled into your warm bed with the covers pulled up to your chin. On any other Saturday night, Jeonghan and you would wear matching face masks before going to bed. On any other Saturday night, you would eat liquor chocolates before bed, as a guilty pleasure. On any other Saturday night, Jeonghan and you would watch youtube videos till you slept. 

But tonight is not any other Saturday night. There is still a rage simmering in your heart. So you text Mingyu good night, but you don’t even look at Jeonghan when he finally comes into the room. Even as you feel him finally shuffle into bed and the other side of the bed dip under his weight, you don’t turn to look at him. Almost thirty minutes later, you finally turn around to stretch your body, hoping that the smoothness of Jeonghan’s breathing means he has finally dozed off to sleep. 

You’re wrong. As soon as you turn around, you see his eyes flutter open to meet yours, his face shining under the moonlight flitting in through the window. It’s at moments like this that you realise that he was truly born to be a model. He looks beautiful, even restless like this, even on stressful nights, when his eyes are clouded and the usual flush in his cheeks is lessened. 

Somehow seeing his eyes on you makes your heart calm down. 

“Did you really sleep with him, Y/N?”

Huh? This is what he wants to ask you? Is this what he’s been restless about? You can feel your heart race up again with irritation. Why is he pressing on about this? How dare he, when the only reason you’re spending time together with your best friend after weeks is because he’s made a grave mistake and he wants you to forgive him. 

Is this why you’re not forgiving him, yet, Y/N? Because you want to hold on to him at any cost? A voice in your head asks you. You dismiss it quickly. 

“After everything, this is what’s keeping you up?”

“Just please answer me, Y/N-ah.”

You take a breath.

“No I didn’t, Jeonghan. But we did go out on a date last night.”

In the darkness, you miss how his breathing speeds up and his jaw clenches. You just see him stare at you for a long minute. Then you turn back around and close your eyes. You hope he’ll be gone the next morning. 

_

He is gone the next morning. 

Well, gone from the room. You find him sitting on the couch, reading something on his phone. 

“You’re up early.”

He looks terrible. It’s clear he’s not slept well, if at all. 

“She called.” 

The coffee machine pings, indicating that your cappuccino is ready. 

“Who?”

“Sujin.” 

You pick your cup and turn around to look at him, leaning on the kitchen counter. “Oh good. Do you want eggs or ramen-”

“She has a husband. He lives in New Zealand.”

You almost drop your cup, as Jeonghan stares at you with the full force of his gaze. “She wants to break off ties immediately. She doesn’t want to stay in touch.”

“God, I didn’t know people were this casual about relationships these days. First, Joshua… then Sujin. I am sorry to hear-”

“Don’t be. I don’t feel bad. I don’t know, should I feel bad?” He walks up towards you and slowly takes a sip from your cup of coffee. He’s standing really close to you, and you can see the way his hair is growing along his neck. 

“Jeonghan, but you liked her?”

“I did, I suppose. But I can’t find myself to care that she’s gone. The restlessness in my heart is not caused by her at all. And, the longer,” he takes another sip, “I think about it, I think, I’m glad she’s gone.”

“What?”

“Because she took me away from you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “What are you saying, Jeonghan-ah?”

“Y/N, I- I don’t know what came over me. I swear I didn’t want to miss your mother’s anniversary. I knew you had a fair last week and-”

“Jeonghan! It’s fine, don’t fret so much. I’ll eventually get over it,” you laugh, trying to desperately avoid the intense gaze which is pinning you down now. 

He takes a step closer to you, his hand extending to touch your neck gently, feeling the hair near your neck. “You might. I won’t be able to look myself in the eye in the mirror, fuck, I won’t even be able to look at you with a clear mind until you forgive me.”

And then there’s a strange sensation in your limbs. A sensation to touch him too. It’s not like you’ve never touched him- but this time, you don’t want to touch him like you’ve touched him for all these years. You want to touch the way the faint morning sunlight is kissing his cheeks. You want to touch the gentle ends of his brown hair which are slowly growing in length. You want to touch his lips, chapped evidently, but still rosy and delicate. How would it feel to kiss him? Would he kiss you back?

“Jeonghan, you don’t know what you’re saying. You feel hurt because of Sujin and you want a quick fix.”

“Fuck, no, Y/N! Stop misunderstanding me, please! You don’t get it, do you? When I heard that you and Mingyu went on a date, I realised it.”

“Realised what?”

“That you’re mine. And I’m yours. I can’t imagine belonging, I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else.” You don’t have any words to say, just leaning back as he gently caresses your neck and hairline. So you stay silent, as you let his touch ease your mind. It doesn’t feel wrong. It feels as if his fingers just belong there. You crave the way he touches you, and you think you agree with what he’s saying. “Y/N, I… there’s a reason why I’ve never fallen in love with someone. Because, I didn’t need to. And because nobody was you. I’ve been a fool to not realise it earlier- but you’re literally my soulmate. We match, yin and yang, you’ve said this before yourself. And nobody makes me feel as loved as you do. Nobody makes me as happy as you do. I’m sorry I got carried away with the infatuation, but I know in my heart that it was nothing but physical attraction with Sujin. And I don’t even care for it. She has no place in my heart. Nobody does, except you.”

“But Sujin is perfect. You-”

“But she’s not you. She may be perfect, I don’t know. She’s definitely not perfect for me.” 

He leans in even closer, until you’re breathing the same air as his own, and his palm gently massages your neck. “I know who’s perfect for me.”

And then he steps back. He fucking takes a step back, leaving you high and dry, leaving you perched on his words, a glint in his eyes and all misery gone from his face. “I’ll wait for your reply, Y/N. I’ll wait for you to give me a chance. Unless, of course, your heart has already gone to Mingyu-”

You take a step forward. “Mingyu has never meant anything for me. I don’t … feel anything for him. You know that.”

“But you went on a date with him?”

“I… I didn’t put too much thought to it. We were going out just normally and he suddenly said if we can make it a date. And I had no reason to not give into his request-”

“But do you like him? Giving into his request and wanting the same thing as him are two different things, Y/N.”

You stay silent for a second, considering his question. It is a perfectly valid question, a question that had tormented your mind throughout the ‘date’. You hadn’t paid it much mind because of the sudden incidents after that, but when it comes back to your mind now, you realise…

“No. I don’t like him like that. And you know that too.”

There’s an evident shift in Jeonghan’s eyes, his gaze becoming warmer. “I do. But he is a better man, Y/N-ah. Better than I could ever be.”

There’s a long pause after his words, both of you waiting like prey and predator, wondering what the other’s move would be.

And then you take quick steps towards him, gently moving towards him timidly, until his back is against the wall, and you’re pinning him down on it. His lips part and he leans downwards, and that’s enough bait for you to fall for it, hook, line and sinker. So you meet him halfway and kiss him. You press your lips against his softer lips, the same lips you had wondered what it would be like to kiss, the same lips you had wondered if it would kiss you back. 

When you both finally break the kiss for air, you whisper to him, “I don’t want a better man, Jeonghan. I want you.”

So you kiss him again. And again, until his kisses become insistent, and he gently pries open your lips with his tongue. When his tongue enters, he flips you so that your back is against the wall, and he gently cages you with his hands on your hips. Then he takes his sweet time exploring your mouth the same way his gentle hands roam all over your waist and hips, pulling you up towards him, so that his hands wrap around you back as well.

“Fuck, Y/N, why haven’t we done this earlier?”

“Because we were friends?”

He laughs, a warm, tinkling sound in your ears, as he bends down to kiss your neck, making you gasp with each touch. “Fuck being friends, Y/N. I love you. I don’t think there’s ever been a day when I haven’t loved you and wanted to live the rest of my life with you by my side.”

“Hannie, what you’re saying-”

“Does it feel wrong? Do you want me to stop? I will stop if you say so, love.”

Love. He’s called you nicknames before, but something about the way he says it now makes you weak in the knees. 

In the past twenty-four hours, you’ve realised you were wrong so many times. Like right now, you realise that it was never Mingyu who made you feel the most wanted. It was because you were craving for Jeonghan’s attention that made you feel like Mingyu’s attention was unique. It was, is, and will always be Jeonghan. Had been him when he’d seen you through the shabbiness of your home, through the simple lifestyle your single mother provided, through your worst days when you’d isolated yourself from the world because you were too scared to face your demons. Had been him when he’d shown you that friendships can exist beyond a single classroom’s companionship, that love doesn’t always have to come in the form of big gestures and gifts, that life is always better with someone by your side. 

And you can’t imagine anyone else by your side, except Jeonghan. 

“It feels so right, Hannie. Don’t stop kissing me, please.” 

He chuckles, a deep, glorious sound, as he captures your lips again, his fingers daringly fiddling against the clasp of your bra that’s evident through your thin t-shirt. You gently edge yourself off the wall, bracing your back, pressing your body against his. “Fuck, don’t do that, Y/N. I’m not going to be able to keep my control if you do that.”

“You don’t have to control yourself, Han-ah. I want you as much as you want me.”

He kisses you again after that, a searing kiss that makes your body warm with liquid passion, and then he unclasps the bra from behind in one go. Then he kisses your jawline, leaving tiny bites as he pulls of the straps and your bra drops to the floor where you’re standing. Your body suddenly feels cool, so you press your chest against his, nipples rubbing against the fabric of his t-shirt and hardening, and he notices it.

He mutters something under his breath, before asking you, “Can I?”

“I don’t know,” you throw him a smirk. “Can you?”

“Fuck,” and then his hands grasp your breasts from over your tshirt, gentleness all forgotten as you arch your back to press into his squeezing hands as they rub circles into your nipples, feeling so warm against the cold air of the house. He trails his kisses down from your neck, through your collarbones, and finally over your shirt on your breasts, leaving wet patches all over. The erotic sight turns you on, as his spit gently lingers on the thin material of your shirt, leaving everything translucent. 

“Babe, let’s take you to the bedroom, please? I don’t want our first time against your kitchen wall.” His voice is hoarse in your ear, desperate groans you could never imagine Jeonghan to be emitting, but here he is, his low voice working wonders to your body. And you whisper a yes, before he drags you into the bedroom and nudges you to fall against the bed. He quickly pulls off your shirt, damp all over by now, and takes in the sight of your bare upper body. “God, you’re so fucking pretty, Y/N. Prettiest fucking tits I’ve ever seen,” he whispers, making you blush with the way he’s casually talking dirty to you. Then he latches his lips onto one of your breasts, sucking your nipple, while a hand pinches your other nipple, making you scream out at the sudden pleasure. And it’s his name you’re screaming. He looks at you with crazed eyes, his bangs falling over his eyes, but he doesn’t leave eye contact even as he switches sucking and nibbling from one breast to another. The soft skin of your tits are all wet and blooming with hickeys by the time he’s done, leaving your panties sticky and your breathing erratic. 

“I want to feel you too, Hannie.” You whimper, and he giggles. “God, you’re so cute, babe. Can you take off my shirt, cutie?” You sit up instantly and take off his shirt. And his chest is as pretty as you remember it. But this is the first time you’re having such a visceral reaction towards his bare chest, as you gently lick and leave open mouthed kisses all over his neck and chest. “Baby, so good-” his voice breaks, and it makes you feel powerful. The blood rushes to your brain, and you quickly unzip his pants on an impulse, feeling the loose fabric slip down, leaving his boxers in front of your face, his dick already weeping through the thin fabric of his boxers, leaving a stain. “Hannie, I want your cock, in … my mouth.” You know the effect your words are having on him, as he grips on to one bedpost to steady himself. “Yeah? Pretty baby wants her mouth on my cock? God, just do it already. Don’t tease, f-” his voice gets strangled again as you lick the stain on his boxer, before gently taking his red cock out of his tented boxer. “So pretty, like you, Hannie. Delicate and pretty, and oh,” you gag on your first attempt. “So long.” Unexpectedly long, so you can’t fit him in one go. Still you try to take as much as you can, and his hands wrap around your hair. When you bob your head once, a low groan leaves Jeonghan’s mouth as his grip tightens on your hair. “If you do that, Y/N-ah, I swear I’m going to cum right now.” You don’t listen to him, you continue to suck his length off. His pretty length, which is leaking more and more pre-cum as you continue to suck it and lick off the tip, as you enjoy the sounds Jeonghan makes just for you. 

An insecure part of you wonders if Sujin did it as well. So you ask him, in all your vulnerability. 

“Did Sujin do it like this? Or was she better?”

Hannie’s hands stop in your hair. He gently pulls his cock out from your mouth before sitting down to your level on the bed. Then he roams his hand all over your skin as he pushes you down to lie on your back. “Y/N, believe me when I say this. Sujin didn’t make me feel even an ounce of what I’m feeling right now. I feel so safe, and wanted, and sexy when you even moan for me, and I swear I almost came on the spot when you took off your shirt and showed me your body.” 

His hands delicately wrap all over you, as he places his weight on you. Your heart warms at his words, so you grab his face to kiss him. And kiss he does. Slow, passionate kisses, as you lift your hips to feel some friction against his milky smooth thighs. Kisses which end up in him biting your lower lip as he pinches your nipples almost cruelly, making your toes curl up. Kisses which bend down to your chest as he sucks on your buds to make them hurt less, and his hands move towards gently pressing a finger against your folds. 

“So wet, pretty baby? For Hannie?” 

“For Hannie. All for Hannie.”

And he enters the entire finger inside you without a moment’s pause, making you moan out his name in an almost pornographic moan, arching your hips, as he uses his thumb to gently rub your clit. “So pretty for Hannie. You were made for Hannie, all of your beautiful body and your beautiful mind. What would I do without you, love?” 

“You would never be without me, baby.” And he kisses you again, as his fingers work your folds open gently, first one, and then two, and slowly, without you even realising, with the way his fingers piston into you, you’re on the brink of your orgasm. So you cum all over his fingers without warning, and he chuckles as he feels the warm sensation over his fingers. Then he sits up, and rubs the remnants of your wetness over his dick and jerks himself off a little, making his proud length stand up even taller. 

“Fuck, Hannie, put it inside me already. Feel-feeling empty.”

He kisses your cheek. “So cute, but so dirty, god. You’re empty? Wait. Do you have condoms?”

You nod. Indicating the top shelf of your bedroom drawer. He retrieves a pack quickly, and as he rolls the condom over his dick, he sits tall, watching how you’re writhing under him for his touch. 

“Does this boost your ego, Han-ah?”

“So much. To think that you’re like this for me. Fucking unreal.”

“Shut up,” you giggle shyly, before grabbing him and kissing him slowly, as he gently enters you inch-by-inch. Once he’s seated all the way inside, he breaks the kiss. “Does it hurt?”

“No. You can move, Hannie.” You blush with how he tries to angle his hips correct from the very first thrust, biting his lips in concentration. He’s really trying to make this the best experience for you two, and it warms your heart. But he doesn’t have to get so worked up about this. 

So you whisper to him, “Hannie, come into my arms please. Wanna hold you, wanna feel you close.” “I’m here, I’m here baby,” he says, leaning closer to you, his thrusts becoming slower, but you can feel him deeper like this. 

And soon, your moans become higher and higher pitched, as do his. He kisses you through every second of it, even when you’re both chasing your climax. “Fuck, baby, I’m going to cum now, can you cum with me?” You nod, reaching out to rub your nipples, as he kisses the sensitive spots on your neck. And within seconds, you’re both seeing stars, as you feel an intense orgasm run over you and his lazy thrusts through it all. 

It takes you a long minute to recover, and you see that Jeonghan’s cleaning you up with a soft cloth. “Hannie?” “Sleepy?” “Hmm,” you reach out for him, and he comes to cuddle in your chest. “But it’s still early morning, how can I sleep now?” “Let’s just cuddle, hmm? You need some rest at least before we go for round two,” he gives you a cocky smirk, and you blush at his words. God, he made you feel all mushy and gooey inside. 

“I love you, Hannie.”

“And I love you, Y/N-ie. I always have.”

[1d1195]

Traditional - Extra VIII

Read Traditional here | ~3.5k words

Warnings: it was requested our MC be jealous again. Feelings of inadequacy. There are also some mentions of smutty topics. Otherwise, pretty fluffy. As of 10/14/24 I've added a bonus scene as well. It's at the bottom of the post update 🥰

Summary: At a fancy event, she can't help but think about how out of place she feels in Harry's life. Especially when the person he's dancing with is so gorgeous.

Harry can't believe she's so lovely and all his.

Harry was across the room looking like a James Bond character in his tux. He looked so effortlessly handsome and cool. Like he went to these things daily. It was impossible to tear her gaze away from him and she could barely make out the pretty smile on his mouth from so far away.

“Hey,” Louis’ voice was matched with a hand on the small of her back. Finally pulling her from her staring contest with someone who didn’t even know she was staring.

“Hey,” she smiled politely. “You look good.”

“I always look good,” he reminded her with an eye roll and pecked her cheek. “You look stunning,” he smiled sweetly. “Can’t believe Harry let you wear anything with that much cleavage.”

She snorted. “Harry would never tell me I can’t wear something,” she rolled her eyes. “I also wore a jacket until after we got here,” she explained.

Louis laughed and guided her toward the bar. “Thanks for inviting us.”

“Of course,” she shrugged one shoulder. “I’m sorry El’s not feeling well.”

“I know,” he pouted. “I’m not to tell her about any of the hors d’oeuvres,” he smirked.

She smiled. “We can probably put some aside for her,” she shrugged.

“You really planned all this?”

“Not really. I met with the person that planned it.”

Louis took in the spacious ballroom in one of the fanciest hotels in the city. There were wealthy people from all over schmoozing and donating like money meant nothing. It was inspiring they were so generous, but still terrified her a bit about how many digits probably floated in their bank accounts. Louis was still admiring the décor, the fancy place settings, the centerpieces that she made sure looked right the night before during the set-up phase. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she nodded appreciatively. “I hope it’s successful.”

Louis gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Your brother would be so proud,” he assured her. There was a tug in her chest and a sting in her eyes. She swallowed, nodding silently and didn’t say anything else. Didn’t want Louis to say anything else either. “But he wouldn’t have let you leave the house with that much cleavage either.”

She snorted again and shook her head. “I don’t see you complaining.”

“I may have the hottest girlfriend on the planet, but I can appreciate a plunging neckline with the rest of them,” he winked and grabbed two wine glasses from the bar top. “Where’s Harry?”

They meandered to another tall table setting their drinks down after sipping. “He’s been chatting with clients, business owners, old friends, etc...” she shrugged. “I’ll be lucky if I get one dance with him.”

“Well, his loss then,” he smiled. “Guess I’ll have to be your dance partner.”

“I’m really glad you’re here, Lou,” she sighed with relief. “I’ve... I’ve kind of been dreading this.”

He shook his head. “It’s stunning, love. Beautiful. You did an amazing job, and I know Harry will be thanking you with sexual favors later tonight.”

“Jesus,” she blushed and sipped her glass. She glanced across the room again and found him staring at her. Her heart skipped a beat. It was so stupid. She lived with the man for God’s sake. But his eyes scanning her made her feel warm all over. She waved briefly. His smile grew.

Louis nodded at him, and he nodded in response. It seemed they were finally over her broken arm. Although she was certain Harry would never forgive himself as much as Louis would never forgive him. But at least they could talk again. “Where’s Niall?”

She sighed. “Last I saw he was hanging out by the food line.”

“The food line? What are we waiting for? You told me about the menu, I’ve been dreaming about mini cheeseburgers. Classy place like this? They’re going to be the most amazing thing I’ll ever eat.”

She giggled and grabbed her glass. Louis followed behind her. “I think that was a bit selfish of me, but I haven’t heard a complaint yet.”

*

Harry was still wandering about and chatting with everyone but her. It was his job, but she missed him. She wanted to ogle him up close with how handsome he was. She and Louis played a gossiping game making up stories about couples they saw. It was dramatic and would give any soap opera a run for their money.

“Hey Louis,” Niall’s own rounds finally landed them at their table. “Enjoying?”

“It’s perfect.”

“Told you darling,” he winked and gave her shoulder a squeeze. She sipped her drink looking around for her boyfriend and not seeing him. “Do you want to dance, love?” Louis asked.

“I think Harry’s on the floor,” Niall said sipping the final remnants of his own drink. Her heart fell.

“He is?”

Niall frowned. “Yeah, sorry. I... It’s just a business thing. Ya know?”

She nodded feeling slighted that someone else got to dance with her sexy boyfriend. It was bound to happen. But she was hoping she would have gotten the first dance at least. “Well, fortunately, she’ll be free to dance with the hottest man here,” Louis smiled, grabbing her hand, and twirling her once into his embrace. She laughed, shaking her head and made her way to the dance floor with Louis. At least her best friend was there to keep her mind from thinking about how Harry was dancing with someone else.

*

“I’m sorry I gotta leave you alone, love. I don’t want to leave El alone while she’s feeling poorly for so long,” he sighed and rubbed the back of his head.

She shook her head. “Don’t worry. Tell her I hope she feels better. And that she likes her treats.”

“She’s lucky she doesn’t know mini cheeseburgers were on the menu, I’ll eat them in the car.”

“Louis Tomlinson, don’t you dare. I will ask her about them specifically.”

He kissed her cheek and winked at her. “See you, babe. Have a good night.”

Once more, alone with her thoughts and only able to stare at Harry from afar, she grabbed another drink from the bar and headed to the middle of the tables hoping it would give her the best view to find her boyfriend. The night was a little more than halfway over, but it seemed like it would continue forever.

She took her phone out of the pocket of her dress. An absolute must for an event of this caliber. She looked over her to-do list for Monday. Sent a few emails. Researched a couple articles. They were supposed to clean the house tomorrow which seemed dreadful after a long night like this. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she slept in a little. But when was the last time they slept in?

Harry loved her so much. She knew it. She felt it when he spoke, when he moved, when he bought her anything and everything she wanted without so much as blinking or thinking about what it meant to her.

But the jealousy that hit her like a truck when her gaze caught sight of him dancing with a woman around their age made her want to throw up. It made her feel so inadequate and she knew she wasn’t. Harry insisted. But it hurt. It hurt so much, and it wasn’t even something she needed to worry about or feel. Harry loved her so much.

“Hey, darling. Working again?”

She blinked, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah,” she shook her head hoping Niall didn’t see the way her gaze snapped away from Harry across the room. Was her face flushed? Was Niall going to notice? She worried she would cry if he said something. She did not need to make a scene. “Just a lull, ya know? No one is really talking to me,” she laughed softly.

“Lucky you. I’m reaching my quota of human interaction.”

“Do you want to dance?” She asked, hoping that if she could find a spot on the dance floor away from Harry, it would make her feel better.

“Make Harry jealous? Absolutely,” he held his hand out for her to take and she rolled her eyes with another shake of her head. Niall’s right hand found the small of her back, the left clutched her right and pressed it to his chest. Her free hand rested on his arm.

“Are you a ballroom dancer in your free time Niall?” She asked as he guided her around the floor. He chuckled and smiled.

“I wasn’t kidding, it’s really hot to know how to dance. The ladies love it,” he winked.

Her chest ached. She was sure he was right. Her eyes glancing around for the beautiful woman that was hanging onto her boyfriend. Maybe they were old friends. It was a party where Harry was meant to schmooze with others. It wasn’t his fault. She was being extra and insecure.

But she really missed him in the hours they had been there. “He’s an idiot for not dancing with you,” Niall murmured into her ear. She swallowed feeling the emotion she was trying to beat down creeping up her throat. “You look beautiful, nothing on her,” he assured her.

“How do you know—”

“I’m one of your best friends, darling,” he squeezed around her waist. “Even if we all think it’s silly, we know you’re worried about your worth for Harry.”

“She’s so pretty.”

“Well, you look stunning. If Harry didn’t say so, you should break up with him. This dress alone, wow. Maybe he does have something to be jealous of,” he winked at her. She laughed. Loud. Loud enough for others to look over and she rolled her eyes at him, her cheeks heating as others went back to their conversations. “She might be pretty, but so are you.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “I don’t fit in Niall. Sometimes I feel like I’m an assistant still or an intern. I just do all these things to make things easier but you and him? You guys don’t need me.”

“That’s so wrong,” Niall shook his head. “He would be crushed to hear you say that.”

She went to say maybe he was right, but her eyes caught sight of him. Like a magnet. His head was thrown back in a laugh. A laugh that she loved so much. The woman he was dancing with smiling delightedly. Why wouldn’t she be? It felt like winning an award when she made him laugh. His hand was placed perfectly on her waist, her dainty hand cupped in his. They were probably talking about something she didn’t know anything about. Something that Harry could chat about with someone who had more business experience than her. Someone who wasn’t basing all their knowledge based on theoretical ideas and probabilities from her classes. She turned back to Niall, looking over his shoulder, her eyes burning and aching to cry. She swallowed squeezing her eyes shut. “I have to run to the ladies’ room,” she said quietly.

“Darling?”

“Sorry,” she murmured, dropping Niall’s hand, and scurrying as quickly as she could in her heels to outside the ballroom. The party would be over soon, and she would be able to sneak out and home while Harry finished with everything else. By then she would have calmed down and Harry would be none the wiser.

*

“Kitten?” Harry’s voice was so gentle. He knocked softly. “Y’in here?”

She seriously thought about just ignoring him. He would go away looking for her elsewhere. She could calm herself down and convince herself she was being dramatic. Harry wouldn’t know. But Harry would know. He would see it immediately.

“Niall said y’ran to the restroom in a hurry. M’pretty sure you’re in here,” he continued.

She was going to kill Niall.

Biting her lip, she nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered.

“Y’okay, love?” He asked, his voice nervous.

She nodded but he couldn’t see her. “Just... tired. Needed a second,” she kept her voice quiet. Afraid she would upset him. It was stupid. She knew Harry loved her so unconditionally. But the way he looked with that woman on his arm. It was like they were picture perfect. Straight out of a movie.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

Saying no would break his heart. He would wait right outside. It wasn’t like she would get away crying and trying to pass him. She swiped at her eyes, tried to console herself quietly. “Yeah.”

The door opened. She saw his shoes below the stall door she was hiding behind. “Y’gonna come out her, kitten?”

She took as deep a breath she could manage. Pushed the lock open and stepped outside into the main part of the restroom.

He looked so flawless and perfect other than the frown etched on his lips. “Hey beautiful,” pity covered her face. “S’matter, kitten?”

Before she could stop it, she choked out a sob. Pressing her hand to her lips. His hands moved toward her immediately at the sound. “It’s so dumb Harry,” she whimpered and reached for a paper towel so she could dab at her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

His frown deepened and he cupped her cheeks. “S’not dumb if s’upsetting you, my love,” he promised. “Are y’hurt?” He asked his eyes scanning her quickly from head to toe. She shook her head.

“I didn’t get to dance with you,” she sniveled. “I know how stupid this is,” she swallowed. “But you look so good and everyone you have danced with is equally beautiful. More beautiful than me and I just feel so out of place here. I’m so inadequate. It’s like I can’t stop thinking about that woman saying I’m plain and not worth your time. And I know how ridiculous it is because you love me so much, I feel it all the time but I—”

He pulled her to him quickly. Silencing her with the swift motion. His hand cupped the side of her face. His other arm looped around her waist, his lips brushed the top of her head, and he looked at the mirror as he caught her gaze. She looked down immediately. “Baby,” he hummed. “Look up, please,” he pleaded quietly when she didn’t look up. But Harry was grateful she melted into his chest as he held her. Shyly, she peeked up, only partially meeting his serious expression. “M’sorry I made you feel out of place.”

“You didn’t—”

“M’sorry I didn’t dance with you,” he kissed the top of her head. “I’ve missed you the whole night,” he assured her so soothingly. His voice was slow and deep. Like he wanted her to hear each letter of every word. There was no room for anything else but what he was saying. He wanted her to be crystal clear on the point he was making. “I didn’t want t’be away from you for a second, kitten,” he promised. “M’sorry I made you feel inadequate when you are the furthest thing from inadequate,” he stroked his thumb on her cheek. “Y’look so beautiful. M’crushed you’re crying,” he pouted. “Y’still look breathtaking,” a weak smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “But you’re much too beautiful t’be crying. Especially over this.”

She turned toward him, slid one hand beneath her cheek so she wouldn’t get her wet makeup on his tux. “We didn’t even get a picture,” she whispered.

He sighed. “You’re right, we didn’t,” he grumbled. “We could take one now,” he offered.

She snorted. “That’s attractive. Me all snot-nosed and red eyed.”

“I still think y’look gorgeous,” he assured her.

She sighed. “I’m sorry I ruined everything. It was such a nice night and now because I was all jealous I—”

“Is... is this how y’feel when m’jealous of Niall?” He interrupted.

“What?”

“Like s’the most ridiculous thing in the world,” he rolled his eyes. She laughed quietly despite not wanting to. She supposed, objectively, he was right. “Y’have nothing t’be jealous of,” he promised her.

“Yes, I guess that’s how it feels. But I’m being reasonable.”

The sigh that left him was exasperated with mock irritation. But she could sense the tension easing slightly. “You’re not, kitten. You’re...” he shook his head. “You’re perfect.”

She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. M’sorry y’feel so sad y’had t’cry in here,” he kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t make y’feel secure.”

But he did. It was hard to explain. Harry made her feel beautiful and perfect. The inadequacy was only her feeling of being younger than him, knowing the people he interacted with were so much smarter than her. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Harry.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “I talked ‘bout you to everyone. Told them how lovely this was. It was all your doing. How y’make m’life so much easier. I finally feel like I have a balance. M’not stressed all the time. M’able to delegate more. M’trusting more. You have made Styles Incorporated better because you’re there.”

She blushed. “I really didn’t do all that much for this. I just met with the person that planned it.”

“But I never would have picked these colors, never would have gotten the vendors y’chose. Do y’know how many people raved ‘bout the mini cheeseburgers? This place is so fancy we don’t get mini cheeseburgers at these places,” he chuckled. “And the money,” he skimmed his thumb on her lip. “Baby, you are responsible for all the charitable donations made tonight. Y’have no idea how incredible y’are.” She turned toward his chest, but a smile found its way on her lips. “Y’look so gorgeous; I was jealous Louis and Niall got t’dance with you.”

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Say it again.”

She giggled, tilted her head up and met his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m... needy.”

“S’my favorite thing t’be needed by you. You never need anybody, so it means a lot t’me when y’need me. When y’want me,” he kissed her softly. “M’always needing you,” he reminded her.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he kissed her forehead and wiped below her eyes one more time. “Come dance with me,” he released everything but her hand and tugged her toward the main room.

“The event’s nearly over, Harry. They’ll be packing up their stuff.”

“They can play one more song. I’ll pay them another ten thousand if they need me to. M’going t’dance with m’beautiful girlfriend.”

*

At one-fifteen, Niall was sitting in her usual spot for her mini coffee break with her boyfriend. “Is this because I cried?” She frowned.

“No, darling. Well, maybe. You gave me an idea,” he chuckled.

She glanced at Harry. He held his hands up defensively. “I’ve got nothing t’do with it, kitten. Wish I did. Wish I thought of it so I could take credit.”

“But it’s better because I thought of it. It’s because I love you more than him,” Niall winked.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it, Niall.”

She set Harry’s drink on his desk. “What kind of idea did you get while I was crying?”

Niall smirked. “That you should dump Harry—”

“Niall.”

“—I think you deserve a promotion. One that accentuates all your talents and skills that have made the people at Styles Incorporated smarter, better, and more talented. It’s only an idea. We don’t want to part with your current roles because you’re so good at them. But I think you deserve to be in the spotlight that showcases the kind of things you did to make last night happen.”

Her throat ached wanting to cry again. “I told y’she would cry,” Harry hurried to wrap her up in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “S’a good thing, my love,” he reminded her.

She sniffed. “But—”

“You’ve earned it,” Niall said. “Harry didn’t even think of it, that’s why you should like me as a boss more than him.” He explained. “It’s not because you’re dating the CEO of the company. You’re incredible,” Niall assured her.

“You are,” Harry’s voice was soft, reverent in her ear as he held her. “I wish I thought of it before him. He’s been insufferable all day.”

“You don’t have to say yes. Think about it. Think about what your dream job would be. Harry will make it happen,” Niall put a hand on her shoulder, gave it a squeeze. “I’ll let you guys have your lunch date.”

“It is a lunch date,” Harry grumbled.

“I’ve never had a lunch date suck me off under—”

“Bye Niall.”

“I knew he knew,” she mumbled.

“Are y’okay, kitten?” She nodded. “Are y’sure, baby? M’sorry you’ve been so upset the last twenty-four hours. S’not very nice,” his lips touched right above her ear, pressing to her hairline. It felt extremely intimate even though they were in private. She nodded against him. “I love you so much, kitten. More and more every second,” he promised. “There’s no one y’need t’be jealous over. Ever. M’whole heart is yours.”

She sighed contentedly, feeling a little less inadequate.  A little more adored (which seemed almost impossible. But Harry was good at what he did).

“Say it again,” she sighed dreamily.

**You can find a bonus scene for this part here.**

--

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[melverie]

OBEY ME MC & OC ASK GAME

an ask game specifically for your Obey Me MCs and OCs! List the OCs and MCs you want to get asks for and specify which species they are so people know which species-specific questions they can ask you Some questions have a lot of aspects to them; they're there to give you a little nudge in case you have no idea how to approach the question, but the only really important bit is the first question!

⸺ GENERAL INFO ⸺

01: What is their opinion on the other species? Would they rather be a different one? 02: Do they have a nickname? 03: When is their birthday? Do they celebrate it? Do they even remember it in the first place? 04: What kind of magic do they possess? If they can't use any, do they have magic potential slumbering within them? 05: Which deadly sin best aligns with them? Which one do they embody the least? 06: Have they been to other realms? Which one is their favorite and why? 07: What is their favorite place, and what do they love so much about it? 08: Do they have a kill count? How high is it? 09: Do they attend RAD? What is their role there? Their best subject/the one they teach? Club activties? If they don't attend RAD, what do they do? 10: What was there initial reaction to Diavolo's plans of uniting the three realms? Has their opinion changed? 11: Do they still have any objects from their childhood? What is their most vivid childhood memory? 12: What is something they have experienced that has shaped them into the person they are today?

⸺ RELATIONSHIPS & PERSONALITY ⸺

01: What's their relationship with...? [anon chooses at least one character for this one; MC is part of the cast if you're asking about OCs] 02: On a scale of 1 to 10, how annoying are they to Lucifer? :) 03: What is their family like? Do they have siblings? Pets? 04: What is a character trait that will immediately make them despise someone? On the flip side, how can you easily win their favor? 05: Do they openly show affection? What is their love language? [platonic or romantic] 06: Are they interested in romantic relationships? Do they have any experience? Are they proactive or would they rather be persued? 07: Would they date an immortal being if they aren't immortal themself, and vice-versa? 08: Are they easy to read or do they mask their intentions perfectly? Are they manipulative? A good liar maybe? What are their tells? 09: How is their temper? Are they quick to violence? Do they get frustrated easily? 10: Do they wear their emotions on their sleeve, or do they try to hide them from others as best as they can? Do they try to hide them from themself, too? 11: Do they cry often? What is the last thing they cried about? 12: What makes them soft? 13: What is their greatest wish? What would they be willing to sacrific to get it? 14: What is their biggest regret? 15: What is there biggest fear? Is there something they try to avoid at all cost? 16: How do they react when stressed? How does their behaviour differ when in a life or death situation? 17: What is a side of themself they don't want other to see? When does that side reveal itself?

⸺ CONCEPT AND DESIGN ⸺

01: How often do you think about them in a day? Be honest, I know they torment you in your thoughts as much as you torment them :) 02: What inspired you to create them, and what is the first thing you decided about them? 03: What is the biggest change you have made from their original concept? 04: What do they look like? Do you have a picture/picrew of what you envision them to look like? 05: Do they have any physical attributes that set them apart from others? 06: What is their clothing style? Do they put a lot of effort into their appearance? 07: How do you imagine their voice? Are they loud? 08: Anything you heavily associate with them? A color, a word, a picture, or something else? 09: Share some fluff headcanons about them! 10: How about some angst headcanons? >:) 11: Bonus: something else you really want to share about them that isn't mentioned on here ♡

⸺⸺ SPECIES-SPECIFIC QUESTIONS

⸺ ANGEL ⸺

01: What rank are they? [seraphim, cherubium, ophanim, ...] 02: How many wings do they have? Do they display them proudly, or do they try to hide them whenever possible? What kind of halo do they have? 03: Do they sometimes sneak out to visit the other realms? 04: Are they a guardian angel to someone? 05: Have they seen Michael in person and do they think he looks like a jellyfish? [the second part is mandatory, don't skip] 06: Did they know the brothers before they fell? Regardless of if they have or not, was is their opinion of them? And what do they think of fallen angels in general? 07: Did they fight in the Celestial War? What side were they on and why? 08: Have they ever questioned Father? What for? Were they punished for it? 09: How close are they to falling? If they are a fallen angel, what made them fall? 10: What is something they would willingly fall for?

⸺ DEMON ⸺

01: Wings or tail(s) in demon form? What do their horns look like? 02: Are they part of demon nobility or would they have taken the train back in the day? 03: Do they have any special abilities? [such as Mephisto's power to essentially forge pacts with demons, Lucifer's power to read and manipulate memories, and so on] 04: Are they a fallen angel? If so, do they regret falling? 05: Have they forged any pacts yet? How eager are they to do so, and do they forge them often? If they haven't, why not? 06: How would they go about forging pacts? Do they have a specific strategy they fall back on, or do they go with the flow? 07: How loyal are they to their human master? 08: Have they given anyone their grimoire? 09: What do they do with human souls? 10: Solomon shows up at their doorstep in the middle of the night to ask for a pact. How do they react? 11: What is their opinion of Diavolo as a ruler? Have they experienced the reign of any other demon kings? How does Diavolo compare in their opinion? 12: What was their reaction to the brothers first arrving in the Devildom? Were they scared of a potential war? Hostile toward them? Did they extend a helping hand? 13: If they attend RAD, were they chosen for the exchange program? Did they go to the Celestial Realm or the human realm?

⸺ HUMAN ⸺

01: How old are they? 02: Are they immortal? If given the opportunity, would they like to be? 03: Did they believe in demons and angels before the exchange program? Did they have any contact with the paranormal before it? 04: Do they have a guardian angel? Have they forged any pacts? 05: Are they into demons and/or angels? If they had to choose one or the other, which one would they go for? [trying to word this SFW but I'm sure you know what I mean :)] 06: Who do they trust more—angels or demons? Why? 07: Where do you think they would most likely end up in—heaven or hell? 08: Do they carry anything with them to protect themself from the paranormal? 09: How close were they to just bless the water inside a demon's body and turn it into holy water because they were just so done with them?

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

i saw mc kissing santa claus (Obey Me!)

A/N: Christmas time again!! I don't think I'll be doing a christmas sleepover again, as those always failed in the past, but I am going to be doing an Obey Me writing challenge this month!! As for the prompts, I'll be using the list that @om-adventcalendar created, which you can find here. Most, if not all, of these prompts are gonna be filled with lots of fluff, so enjoy!!

Pairing(s): Lucifer x MC

Prompt(s): 1. Lucifer

Summary: The night before Christmas, Lucifer and MC pass out the first round of presents while the others in the house sleep and spend some time together.

Tag(s): It's all just fluff! But slightly suggestive at the end

Word Count: 1,330

Song Inspiration: I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus by The Jackson 5

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Read on AO3]

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31]

~*~

It’s late into the night when the House of Lamentation finally went quiet, most of its inhabitants fast asleep. Only the human and the eldest brother remain awake, enjoying the rare moment of peace in the household, enjoying the sweet melody the latter is playing on the piano.

“What is it you humans say about the mouse the night before Christmas?” Lucifer asks, turning to look beside him as he finishes the last notes of the song.

“‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.’” MC recites, looking back at him.

“Ah, that’s right. I do believe that applies here, yes?”

MC chuffs in amusement. “I would hope so. If Barbatos caught wind of a mouse, we’d all be in trouble.” They say, stretching their arms above their head before standing.

Lucifer chuckles, standing as well. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

The two of them then head out into the hall together, already knowing their destination. MC walks beside Lucifer with a pep in their step and when they reach his room, they insist that Lucifer enter first.

“What are you up to?” The demon asks.

The other only smiles. “Nothing bad! Just go in and see!” They usher him forward and he shakes his head but does so anyway.

A loud sigh leaves him in a huff as he immediately spots not only the two matching Santa hats on his bed, but also the large Santa coat lying with one of the hats. “MC, do you honestly expect me to wear that ridiculous thing?”

MC steps up beside him and gives him their warmest smile. “Please, Lucifer?”

He narrows his eyes at them before huffing as he picks up the coat and puts it on, grumbling about it the whole time.

MC grins and grabs the two hats, placing one on their own head before placing the other on Lucifer’s, completing his look. “Maybe next year, I’ll get you to wear the beard, too.” They quip cheekily.

“Absolutely not.” Was the immediate response leaving the Avatar of Pride’s lips before they even got to finish their sentence. They laugh as he grabs the bag of presents at the end of his bed and the two head out of the room, heading down the hall.

Their first destination is the twin’s room. They slip into the room, the only noise in there are those of both of the demon’s snores. Out of the bag, Lucifer pulls out a cylindrical shaped present, the paper full of various sun-shaped patterns, and hands it to MC. Next, he pulls out a long, rectangular present covered in moon-patterned paper. The two of them approach the twins’ beds, MC setting Beel’s present on his night stand while Lucifer places Belphie’s present on the bed beside him. Right before they leave the room, they both smile at the youngest curling around his present in his sleep.

It’s Mammon’s room that they approach next, quietly opening the door as Lucifer pulls out a medium sized present in gold paper from his bag. MC walks to the end of Mammon’s bed and watches as Lucifer places the present on the pillow on the side of the bed opposite of where his brother is sleeping. The Avatar of Greed lets out only a snore as the two silently exit the room.

At Satan’s door, Lucifer is already handing over a green-wrapped package with a knowing look. MC resists the urge to laugh as they take it from him and open up the bedroom door, leaving it open as they walk over to Satan’s sleeping form and tuck the present right into the gap between his arm and the bed beneath him. The blonde stays silent in his slumber as they walk back to Lucifer and close the door behind them.

Next is Levi, the third oldest tucked away in his bathtub, reptilian tail wrapped around himself. His present is tucked into the curved space above his head, the Ruri Hana themed wrapping paper matching perfectly with the pillow he’s snuggled up with. Stepping away from the bathtub, the eldest brother walks over to the smaller fish tank on a table nearby and places a small, orange-wrapped package beside it. Even Henry 2.0 gets a present on Christmas. The Avatar of Envy tucks further into his blanket as they leave the room.

Then, finally, they enter Asmo’s room. His present is placed right in the center of his vanity, all bright pink paper and frilly ribbon bows. It fit in well with the room surrounding it, not looking anywhere near out of place. Asmo himself didn’t stir in the slightest, tucked in and content as they made their way back to the hallway once more.

MC followed behind Lucifer as he then headed back downstairs, expecting to follow him to possibly the kitchen or common room. However, they’re a bit surprised when Lucifer instead makes his way to their bedroom.

“What, sending me to bed early?” They ask jokingly, raising an eyebrow at him.

He laughs softly, shaking his head as he opens the door. “Not quite.” He walks over to their bed and only then does the human notice one more present in the demon’s hand, wrapped in paper of their favorite color, which he places gently on top of their pillow. He then turns back towards them with an amused look in his eyes. “You’d better not open it until morning.”

It’s their turn to shake their head at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” They promise with a smile.

The two then start making way for the kitchen, hoping for one last cup of tea before bed, but when MC remembers the mistletoe hanging above the kitchen doorway, they stop, tugging Lucifer back to them. “Hold on, Mr. Claus. We have to follow the rules, don’t we?”

Lucifer lets out a rare snort of amusement. “Doesn’t that rule only apply if both people are stopped right under the mistletoe?”

MC grins at him. “And now we’re stopped under it, aren’t we?” They point out, grabbing hold of both sides of his fuzzy coat and moving closer. “So, where’s the kiss for Santa’s helper?”

He gives them a fond look before gently grabbing hold of their face and bringing them into a sweet, affectionate kiss, both of them letting out a happy hum as their lips connect.

A few feet down the hallway, a certain Avatar of Sloth shuffles forward slowly, rubbing at blurry eyes already trying to close again. In the little eyesight he currently has, he sees nothing more than two figures locking lips, one wearing the signature bright red coat of a familiar being.

“...Santa…?” The youngest mumbles.

The two others pull apart and turn to spot Belphie, MC smiling and walking up to him. “Hey, Belphie. Let’s make sure you get back to bed before you fall asleep again, okay?”

He blinks at them. “...MC…?” His eyes droop again.

MC laughs softly as they gently turn him around and nudge him forward gently, his shuffling already starting to take him back to his shared room with his twin as he heads back to the land of dreams.

Lucifer and MC watch him go before heading into the kitchen, continuing their night as they were before.

~*~

[The Next Morning]

Belphie: I had the weirdest dream last night. I walked downstairs and MC was making out with Santa under one of the mistletoe in the hallway. Then MC told me to go back to bed. Then I woke up.

Mammon, appalled at the idea: Huh??

Asmo, interested: Oh~?

Beel, thoughtfully: Weird.

Satan, suspicious: …Are you sure it was a dream?

Belphie, considering: Well-

Mammon, jealous no matter what the answer is: It better just be a dream!

Levi, loudly: MC! Tell us! What were you doing last night??

Lucifer: *Walking into the room, hasn’t heard any of the conversation*

MC, smirking: Santa Claus.

*Chaos ensues*

~*~

A/N: I had such a big smile while writing this, I love me some christmas fluff 💜 Shoutout to my twin brother @burningtrashgentlemen for helping me figure out a scenario, which he'll probably be doing with a lot of these, lmao. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you for reading!!

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for the other prompts, please let me know!!

[nctinkverse]

Promissa Redux

Pairing: jaehyun x f. reader

Genre: mature, smut, angst, fluff, minors dni.

Preview and plot warnings (I will update as I go): dad Jaehyun, pregnancy, MC is a mom, mature, slow burn, excessive angst, abundant plot, and probably way too much dialogue, exes to lovers, Jaehyun 's family is in this (at least as I imagine they might be), a lot of intimacy, explicit content, swearing, alcohol consumption, mention of exes, heavy make-out session and annoying co-workers.

WC Preview: 1000

WC Total: Not sure, probably it will be 5.000 - 10.000?

Chapter 1 - Shattered promises & Broken vows. Chapter 2 - Valentines Day.

Chapter 3 - One call away is not close enough.

SYNOPSIS: Most of the fairy tales and romance novels, it all seems perfect after the happily ever after. But what if some stories started at the end?

Well not the end per se, nobody was dying.

But you always questioned, do princess get a divorce?

Do female main characters give up the man they fought to love after so many chapters?

At 32 years of age, divorced, mom to an incredible 5-year-old girl who was the greatest thing you and the love of your life ever did, you thought again about the same questions you had when you were 14 and your parents got divorced.

Jung was your last name for 2 years, Mrs. Jung was your title and you loved it, he was sweet, loving, an amazing father and so good to you in bed that you never forgot truly what it felt like to be loved by him.

Your story stated way past the end, the not so happily ever after.

It didn’t have many twists and turns like a superhero movie that keeps you hanging at the edge of your seat for the next plot twist.

In your mind, life was already full of uncertainties, hard decisions, mistakes and paying the price for choosing paths.

Life itself was already hard enough without the responsibilities of superpowers.

So how you ended up thinking about all that again at 32 years old, while holding an engagement ring box you found on your lover’s pocket while picking it up of the floor, it was something you will have to find the answers, probably soon.

------------------------Preview----------------------------------------

You were fast asleep when the phone rang. The name on the screen making you jump, why is he calling at this hour? This can’t be a good thing.

Immediately you laid your back on the headboard and answered the call.

"Hi."

"Jaehyun, is something wrong?"

"Oh, no…" You let out a relieved breath, being half asleep making you grumpy.

"Good lord, Jaehyun, it's 4 a.m!" You said, raising your voice a little.

"Oh shoot… um sorry… I didn’t check for the time zones. I should have called another –

You interrupted his rambling. He’s not usually someone to call, he could just spill so you can go back to sleep.

"Jae, spill, what’s the gossip, huh?"

He let out a little laugh since the gossip joke was an old one between you two.

"No gossip, but I do have something."

"Clearly, it's something good or you wouldn’t be calling on impulse, spill, Jaehyun."

"Yeah right…" He hesitated a bit, his telltale sign usually being him coughing even though there was nothing wrong with his voice. "I got sent this script for this movie, they want me as the main male character..." He hesitated again, which made you ask.

"Jaehyun, what did you do?"

"I sent a copy of the script to your mailbox."

You could feel your sleepiness going away as you scolded him.

"Jaehyun, are you nuts? You can’t ship stuff like this in the mail! What if it gets –"

"It got delivered today." He interrupted, making you stop your thinking.

Scrambling for a thought since he didn’t elaborate, you asked.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with it?! I’m not a male actor, Jung."

"Read, dummy, read."

"And do what?"

"Tell me if you want it."

You opened your mouth to be obnoxious, pointing out the obvious, but Jaehyun must have listened to your 'I’m about to give you an earful' breath and went first.

"Listen, it’s an amazing script, just like the ones you used to want to work on. There’s an opening for a cinematographer, and I know you’re a hell of a good one, so if you want, it’s yours." He said in one breath, probably afraid you would interrupt again.

But from all he said, this part really got you confused.

"What do you mean it’s mine?"

"I showed the director your profile and portfolio, and he said yes."

"Fuck, Jaehyun." You didn’t know what to say since he was never one to interfere in your personal life since the D word.

"You’re sleepy, and I know how grumpy you can be at this hour, so… I still have to tell you two more things, the job is in the states, probably 3-4 months of filming, and I am supposed to give an answer on the male character in 48 hours. We would have to work together, and we would probably have to strike a deal with my parents since we can’t pull Junnie out of school, so…"

You understood what he said, but you needed at least a cup of coffee to process it. But before you could say anything, he went off again.

"I can give it up if you want." He said almost like a whisper.

"Give what up?"

"The character."

"You didn’t like it?"

"No, but –

You interrupted again.

"So, if you do like it, why would you give it up?" It made no sense to you.

"For you –"

It still didn’t make sense why he would give it up.

"Give it up for ME?"

"I like it, Y/N, but this script has you written all over it… and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by being there."

Now you got him, yet he was about the last person in this world who could make you uncomfortable.

"Yuno…" You said in a softer tone.

You heard his breath and a soft "yeah?"

"I don’t hate you." You stated in your most soft yet firm tone, it was one of the things he must not forget about you two.

"I know, Y/N, I know."

"I am going to read it and think about what you said, ok? Don’t do anything hasty."

"Ok, I will let you go back to sleep."

"I’m not sleeping after all this, you know right?" You said, letting out a small huff.

"I know."

"What I am about to do is getting up, making some coffee and grabbing the script out of my mailbox, does it sound good to you?" You were being just a bit playful.

"It does, love."

That word made you warm like butter melting on a frying pan. Still, that wasn’t something out of the ordinary for him to call you. So, you let it slide.

"Well, for sure it’s better than staying in bed tossing and turning."

He let out a small giggle, he knew you were one of those to fight a lot with your bed at night.

"Good morning, love."

"Good afternoon to you?" You didn’t know what timezone he was on, so you tried.

"Try again." He said with a smiling voice.

"Good night!" You said like you had guessed the lottery numbers.

He let out a giggle sound and said, "Give little Nari 1000 kisses from me, will you?

"Why just a thousand?" You said with a little pout. You could hear his playful tone.

"Don’t you know our daughter? She might ask for in real life a thousand kisses; since you are the closest parent, you might fall victim to it, so I think that’s a great number for kisses."

You both giggled, Jung Nari, the lily to our garden, was at that phase where hyperboles would be a tough concept for her to grasp.

"Ok, fine." You agreed still giggling.

"I will call… stay safe."

"You too, Jaehyun."

"Bye."

"Bye."

And the line went silent.

[damedechance]

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲

so I compiled a list of 26 of my favorite fics (some all time faves, some more recent). If you want to give me a present, please read one (or all!) of these and then come back so we can scream about them together. Drop an emoji in my inbox if you want to know more about a particular fic. The numbers are chapter counts!

*✧𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑

Azris:

🐦‍⬛what hath night to do with sleep by @iftheshoef1tz (14/14) 🐮Howl by @iftheshoef1tz (12/12) 🧠tell them i'm the worst by @witch-and-her-witcher (1/1)

Elucien:

💾You Look Like Bad News by @the-lonelybarricade (2/2) 😈Bow Down by @shadowisles-writes (1/2) 💘all is for love, is for mind by @shardminds (1/1) 🌕full moon, white honey by @shardminds (1/1)

Feysand:

👑The Thief and the Rake by @popjunkie42 (3/18) 🤍Down Bad by @shadowisles-writes (1/1) 🍀Good Luck Charm by @whatishowedyouinthedark (4/4) 🖋️A Tight Little Skirt by @separatist-apologist (1/1) 📺and they were roommates by @whatishowedyouinthedark (1/1) 🪈whistles far and wee by @foundress0fnothing (1/1)

Gwynriel:

🗡️the gods grow tired by @shardminds (1/1) 🪩Little Thief by @bibliophiliaxvignette (2/2) 🔥hotter than hell by @lalunaoscura (1/1)

Elriel:

🪢Glitch by @thesistersarcheron (4/5) 🫀listen through the wall by @shardminds (1/1)

Emorie:

🦇Why Do My Gods Look Just Like You? by @asnowfern (1/1)

Nessian:

🥀A Woman So Heartless by @velidewrites (1/1)

Rare ships:

🍽️Everybody Knows by @melonsfantasyworld (1/1) 🌞Embers by @ultadverb (4/4)

*✧𝐋&𝐃𝐒

☄️It must have been a mistake by heidini (1/1) (Caleb) 🌟Cool Off by Rei_Lemon (1/1) (Zayne) 🪐Trichotomy by kirotaan (1/1) (Caleb/Zayne/MC) 🌊Siren's Call by mostsincere (1/1) (Rafayel)

🩷Last year's fic recs

[thewinter-eden]

almost summer | kim seungmin

Pairings: Seungmin x OC, Jeongin x OC

Summary:

SPECIAL AGENT AU Maven Spanaway and Kim Seungmin have been broken up for a year.

Now, in a national state of emergency, they are thrown together on assignment to investigate an enemy outpost. Maven still despises her new partner/ex-fiance, and Seungmin is just as cocky as ever. Enjoy the angsty rollercoaster as they reconnect and learn to work together again.

cross posted on AO3 under the_winter_eden and Wattpad under alone-at-last.

Genre: sci-fi, horror, thriller

Rating: mature, explicit

Status: incomplete (currently 20 chapters)

Content warnings: explicit descriptions of violence/torture, scientific experimentation, raw post-breakup emotions, hurt/comfort, heavy angst, lots of sadness, death, murder, Seungmin being an ass, starvation, fear, insecurities, hopelessness.

masterlist

00. PROLOGUE 01. IT'S NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN 02. YOU'RE STILL ANGRY 03. YOU DON'T LIKE WORKING WITH ME 04. I'M SORRY I LIED 05. THIS WILL GET BETTER 06. WHY I LEFT 07. AS SMART AS EVER 08. IT WAS RIGHT 09. YOU WERE STRONG 10. I ENJOY WORKING WITH YOU 11. I CAN'T WORK OUT TO THAT 12. CUP OF PEACE 13. I NEED YOU TO TRUST ME 14. SPENDING YOUR TIME WITH THEM 15. YOU'RE DATING AGAIN (tuesday 01/28) 16. WE'RE WORKING TOGETHER (thursday 01/30)

NOTES BELOW

a / n : 

Prologue provides foundation for military/special agent setting as well as the MC's experience with the initial breakup. Chapter one (also posted today) will jump into the meat of the story so don't let this bog you down. Hope you guys enjoy! 

If you have any questions about world building, PLEASE ASK. Like my Han Jisung (psycho) fic, this story is a modified piece of exposition for one of my original WIPs. 

I can't guarantee that I've explained the setting well enough in this to just be jumped into without reading the original novel that it's part of, but I want it to be, so let me know if you find inconsistencies or confusion. 

I'm American, as is the setting for the original story, so all of the locations and military groups are modeled off of American military and special forces. Don't let it jar the narrative, lol.

This story is mostly written already. It will be updated twice a week, probably Tuesdays and Thursdays to get me to finish this story.  

If anybody is sensitive about a recent senseless breakup, maybe skip this one.

lazy writer note : 

A few BTS names are thrown in here (you already know this about me if you've read psycho) to alleviate the burden of too many unfamiliar characters. They're not significant to the story, so just point and laugh and move on, haha.

tag list : (comment a request to be added or removed)

@kayleefriedchicken @eastjonowhere @velvetmoonlght

[modern-day-bard]

Masterlist

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller Fanfiction

Summary:

Guinevere Russell is the sole heir to the multimedia conglomerate, Russell Corp. After obtaining her MBA and moving home to New York City, she’s been forced to return to a tumultuous relationship with her father and the rest of the board. Gwen would prefer to run off with her friends and see just how far she can take a distraction, and she’s perfectly happy doing so. That is, until her father hires a bodyguard to keep a watchful eye on her. She just can’t figure out if he was hired for her safety, or to uncover the secrets no one else knows she possesses…

Joel Miller is a personal security officer on leave from his last assignment, where he worked abroad for a U.S. embassy. He has avoided private security detail for years after a life-changing accident, but when he gets this call, the money is too good to pass up. But Joel has never met a client with such an aversion to being protected. Regardless of the paycheck, Joel will soon realize this is his biggest challenge yet, but not for the reason he thinks…

When their secrets, both past and present, collide in a mixture of tension and new-found feelings, the results can be catastrophic. Now, Gwen’s safety is put at risk more than ever before, and the two of them have to get to the bottom of the mystery, and what they mean to each other, before it’s too late.

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

a/n: This is a WIP! I’m writing more chapters while editing before I post. I hope to post on a consistent basis. I’m also posting this story on ao3 and Wattpad. Tumblr tends to take me the longest to post from, but I’m determined to make it happen!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Worth The Feeling: A Javi Gutierrez Fanfiction

Summary: Ava Cohen is a 26-year-old production assistant working tirelessly to achieve her dream of one day becoming a film director. As hiatus from her last project comes to a close, she returns to set with Norwick Productions, whom she has worked with for the past four years. After a major fo paux on the first day of work, Ava is worried she has offended the star of this next production: Javi Gutierrez. She will soon come to realize, this couldn’t be further from the truth. When the cast and crew travel to Italy to film on location, the seriousness of what Ava is feeling becomes all too real, just as a new career opportunity lands in her lap. As tensions run high, watchful eyes set in, and her career is put at stake, can all of this be worth it in the end?

Content Warning: 18+

This story includes explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship (MC is 26, Javi is in his 40s). Minors, do not interact.

a/n: The full story is available on AO3 and on Wattpad as well for anyone who is interested. Thank you to anyone who reads my story! 🤍

Total word count: 93,547

Pairing: javi gutierrez x f!reader. No physical descriptors of the MC, except for her being shorter than Javi.

Pairing Disclaimer: the original pairing was Pedro x reader but after everything was released I felt very uncomfortable with that. If I was a celebrity, I wouldn’t want people to write that about me. I was creating a character as I wrote this story that was separate to Pedro, and after posting, I regretted my choice. I have edited all chapters to reflect this, as Javi’s love of movies and cheerful disposition makes sense for the character I created. Reblogged posts may still have the original pairing, as I’m unable to update them. Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Epilogue

[eg4mccc]

First Call, Sims 4 Infants Patch is Coming Soon!!

(graphic credit: Bonxie)

It's almost time, the Infants are Coming!! Before the patch on March 14 breaks mods and custom content in preparation for the March 16 Sims 4 Growing Together expansion pack, I thought I'd run through a few things you'll need to know about, ahead of time.

When you load up after the patch, Mods and CC are going to be disabled by EA. This is fine, we're expecting a lot of things to break, and this time, it most likely will include MCCC.

We on Deaderpool's Discord recommend taking all of your mods/cc OUT, not leaving them sitting "turned off" (disabled) in your Mods folder. There's no guarantee the game can't see them anyway, so for the cleanest test, we always say to move the files out into a folder on the Desktop. You need this "game only" benchmark to see how things are supposed to behave, or to see if what isn't working properly is a problem in the game code, itself. 

Most of the time, we would actually recommend a "mc-vanilla" test, which means to ONLY leave MCCC in your mods folder... but in the case of a Big Patch, until Deaderpool has a chance to evaluate (and hotfix) MCCC for code changes that might cause the mod to give you unexpected issues in game, "true vanilla" (mod/cc free) would be where to start testing.

By the way, if you need help getting your files organized ahead of the patch, you can find a downloadable Mods folder template here, courtesy of Shino Nox.

Without benefit of MCCC's mc_lastexception.html error file to help dig for errors, once you have your game-only test run completed, the next thing to do would be a 50/50. Make a copy of your save file, to safeguard against accidentally saving while your mods and cc are not in the game. (Don't worry, if you DO happen to save your main file this way, just come right away and ask us on Discord how to recover from it.)

One tip we've learned over the years is that you might be able to rule out entire sections of files with two basic tests: 

One test with all of your cc & no mods (except MCCC, as long as it's working properly)

One test with all of your script/game-changing mods, and none of your extra custom content. (You would need to keep all of a mod's pieces together, both ts4script and package files.)

If either test results in any kind of error, you'll need to drill down through those files with the 50/50 technique, to find what's broken.

Luth's forum posts and Scarlet's mod list are both excellent resources. You may notice I'm not linking to any specific forum post. The reason is, Luth/luthienrising starts new patch threads in the section I did link, as needed. You'll be able to spot it once she has created it.

Last month, our team on Discord celebrated our sixth anniversary of helping players.  Don't panic once the patch is live, just swing by and see us for help.  If you can't get in, because you've been banned for some reason, our appeal process is outlined here. 

Most questions you might have are probably answered in the #server-info channel. PLEASE read it, before approaching us in support. It will make everything easier, for both of us. 

Thanks for your time, and, good luck with the patch!!

[choicesficwriterscreations]

July Creator of the Month: Eadanga

Please welcome this month’s Creator of the Month: @eadanga

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists. The writer or artist is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTM's can be found here.

Tumblr Blog Name: Eadanga How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Esang

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I don't remember the year, but I started playing when it was only The Crown & The Flame, The Freshman, and Most Wanted. I thought it was a rip-off of Episode because many apps like that exist. The first book I started playing was The Crown & The Flame, and then I got bored of it, so I tried The Freshman, and I was hooked. Been playing ever since 😃

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined about four years ago. I was in a Choices group on Facebook and saw people sharing fanfics. I first thought it was an ad, but when I looked, it was a fanfic, and it was amazing. That's when I joined so I could read more, and then I posted one of my own that I wrote.

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

Literally, it's just my name. I didn't think I'd be here long, not to mention posting. It's the first letter of my name, Esang, and my last name, Adanga. Maybe one day I'll change it 🤣😂

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

This was my first post. I saw people making stories in the Choices group and decided to make one of my own. I didn't think it would get much attention, but it did 😁

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both? 

I write fanfiction, but I’m not really good at making art, lol

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

Let's see, I think I started in 2020. Choices is the only fandom I write for.

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

The Freshman and The Royal Romance will always be my number one favorite books to read and write for 😁

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

This was my favorite, and I'll never change anything about it. It is so romantic, hehe 😍

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created? 

This one wrote it for @flowerpowell, and even though she doesn't post anymore, it was so much fun to write something for her. 

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

It's definitely my Deepest Desire series. I didn't expect people to enjoy it, especially @littlegreenmoo, who was having a field day with that series 🤣. Chris's Journal could have been better; a little bit more detail would have made it pop.

11- (WRITERS) If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

I hate angst, and I haven't written smut since my Deepest Desire series 🤣 so fluff all the way. I love happy endings 😁

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

I put some of me in my MCs, like when they're cooking, cause I love to cook 😁

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

Keeping up with a schedule. I make one, but then real life gets in the way, and I gotta change it.

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Eternal Love, I haven't written for that in a long time. I just got caught up with other fanfics, and then you lose inspiration, but I will get back to it one day.

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first? 

Yes, I would love to show them, but I've shown my work without people asking. I've shown my best friend my work; she didn't ask. I just showed it to her, and she enjoyed it. I've shown my mom, too. She constantly told me to send it somewhere and get paid even though I only write for fun, not as a job. I stopped showing her after that because she was tired of hearing that.

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

@maxattackpowell and @drivenbyfantasy are both no longer here, but their fanfics inspired mine. I’m grateful to both of them for that. 

17- (WRITERS)  Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

The Graduate would make a great movie or Choices book, hehe.

18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art? 

Choices is my first fandom.

19-  What other hobbies do you have?

I love cooking and baking, watching anime (I'm a total anime nerd 🤣), spending time with my baby @choicesgodfanatic, reading Archie comics, watching cartoons, praise dancing, and writing episode stories. 

20- BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to)

Thanks to everyone who enjoys all my stories, and don't ever worry about me leaving cause I'm here to stay. Choices is why I met my amazing love @choicesgodfanatic. It's part of our love story, and I'll never give up on it.

Plus, I've met some wonderful people here and never want to leave them. So glad you all enjoy my fanfics, and look out for many more cause more is coming your way 😁

[yuri-is-online]

Do the timeline post!!

Right so before I get cracking on this I want to make a few things clear:

This is all speculation and should not be taken as fact, due to how XP and stamina gain work in this game I will probably re-vist this post once I am finally able to work on Zayne's myths card (i am prioritizing Xavier since I have both of his as opposed to just one of Zayne)

For simplicity's sake this post is just going to be focused on Zayne, though I will reference things from the other boy's lore where applicable. He ironically seems to have the easiest timeline to understand, which is saying something.

I will gladly make a post for Xavier later this week when I am able to unlock his last anecdote, but if you are more interested in Rafayel I will have to direct you to this post by u/joonmin on the love and deepspace subreddit as I don't have a lot of Rafayel cards and lack the information they posted. I will say that he seems to have the most complicated timeline out of all three of the love interests, and that a lot of the information on that thread won't make sense if you have not read chapter 7.

Ok? Ok. Here is my best attempt at a timeline for Love and Deepspace Zayne: SPOILERS FOR ALL IN GAME CONTENT UP TO CHAPTER 7, VARIOUS MOMENTS, AND ANECDOTES, PROCEED WITH CARE.

I lied I have one more thing I want to clarify: yes there is a timeloop/alternate reality thing going on in this game. That is not really something that I think needs debating because that's kind of the genre this developer does, and the game starts off telling you that the deepspace tunnel is a spacetime anomaly. It isn't subtext, it is just text.

Current Timeline

The current timeline where the main story of LAD takes place is set in the year 2048 in a place called Linkon City. We are told that the Deepspace Tunnel opened 14 years prior and that is when wanderers started invading earth. There is a lack of understanding about why this has happened, and it has sparked an interest in space exploration in the hopes of finding a solution.

The hunters association is sort of like an adventurers guild? It's supervised by the government, and is sort of split between Hunters like MC and researchers attempting to understand what makes the wanderers tick.

This includes researching protocores, currently the only thing the hunter's association knows for sure is that they contain a great deal of energy, and that they can cause disease in humans based off of which category the protocore falls into. This is confirmed to be what is wrong with MC.

It is also mentioned that protocore energy is used for lots of things, in technology I assume. This will be important later so keep it in mind.

The "arctic" that chapter 5 is set in appears to be referring to the Northern arctic circle. The in game "spacepedia" says there are lots of energy fluctuations (and therefore wanderer attacks) due to its close proximity to the earth's magnetic pole. The epicenter of these fluctuations appears to be Mt. Eternal, where most of the research institutions in the arctic are based.

There seem to be sort of "fixed points" that repeat themselves within Zayne and Rafayel's timelines, and a theme of MC forgetting things. The lyrics to the opening theme even say "Time goes by but memories rewind" and while Zayne doesn't say MC has forgotten anything to do with him specifically, she has forgotten something about both Xavier and Rafayel. For Rafayel, the thing she forgets also seems to be his "fixed point": he and MC always meet when they are younger. For Zayne, he always hurts someone with his evol at age 12.

While there are technically three versions of Zayne and two of them seem to be aware of each other: current/Dr. Zayne and Dawnbreaker Zayne. They both started dreaming of each other at 12. It is unclear if either version dreams about Forseer Zayne, or if he is aware of them, but all three versions of Zayne are fond of jasmine. I haven't made much progress with Zayne's myths card, but it is clear that this like has something to do with MC, just from the little bit I have been able to read.

Dr. Zayne dislikes talking about the incident when he was 12, simply telling his friend Will that he lost control of his evol and hurt someone. He refers to this someone as a friend, and I might be a smidge delusional... but I think that friend was probably MC. If she's forgotten about it, Dr. Zayne might see that as "for the best" and not wish to remind her of it.

It would also explain why Grandma trusted him with MC's care and those secret documents. He has gone very far out of his way to try and not be someone who hurts people, and is obsessed with working himself to the bone to save as many people as possible. Grandma might seem like a sweet old lady... but we know she has some questionable morals so I could see someone like her thinking that since Dr. Zayne feels like he owes MC he is a good choice to protect her since he won't betray her.

The Fragmented Dreams moment is typically pointed to when talking about Dr. Zayne and Dawnbreaker's dream connection, but after reading the Never Ending Winter anecdote I don't really think it is. Look at what the nightmare actually says:

I think this moment starts out with Dr. Zayne dreaming about MC coming to visit him at work and bring him lunch, but devolves into him dreaming about what he did when he was 12. Dr. Zayne's dreams of Dawnbreaker as depicted in the anecdote are almost always related to his mercy kills, he doesn't seem to see the finer details I'll get into when discussing Dawnbreaker's timeline. The anncedote makes me think that Dr. Zayne sees Dawnbreaker as a sort of manifestation of his fears for himself; he fears becoming a killer, he fears hurting people, the only things Dr. Zayne wants is to save lives. That wish applies to more people than just the MC, he genuinely enjoys being a doctor and is very popular with his patients.

Beyond Dr. Zayne seeing his friend turn into a wanderer and being forced to kill him, we don't know much about his relationship with his teacher or the arctic. We do know that he still visits the arctic from time to time to help Dr. Noah with his research, and we can only assume it has something to do with protocores. I think it might specifically have something to do with humans being transformed into wanderers, but that's wild speculation on my part.

Dawnbreaker Timeline

The concept of Dawnbreaker Zayne is introduced in the annecdote Still In Dark. It is set in an unknown time and place, but it is confirmed to not be Linkon as Dawnbreaker mentions wanting to visit there, but that it was destroyed a long time ago.

In this timeline in this unknown city, wanderer attacks are so common that people don't really leave their homes. Most menial jobs (such as staffing convenience stores) are done by robots and most people find their entertainment through VR.

It is known by the government of this unknown place that prolonged exposure to protocores and their energy transforms people into wanderers. These infected can then kill and infect other humans. When Dawnbreaker Zayne was 12 years old, he watched his adopted father transform into a wanderer and turn his mother. He used his evol to kill them both to save himself. This is also when he begins dreaming of Dr. Zayne, though he is much more interested in MC.

In the anecdote he is under investigation by the police as a suspected serial killer, as he has been mercy killing infected people as they transform so they can't turn more people. This includes children, which is what Dr. Zayne ends up dreaming of in Never Ending Winter.

The police officer investigating Dawnbreaker ends up learning about the infected, and destroys his investigative files after realizing his superiors know about these wanderers. He wishes Dawnbreaker Zayne luck in finding a solution before things get too far gone.

This anecdote does two very important things. First and foremost it confirms/introduces the concept that some wanderers used to be human, and that this transformation is caused by prolonged exposure to protocores. The second is that it suggests that MC is not a part of that world's timeline. Why is not clear, but Dawnbreaker doesn't know who she is, just that from what he can see in his dreams he wishes to be loved by her. I mentioned that Dr. Zayne hates Dawnbreaker, but it doesn't seem that Dawnbreaker hates him at all. He likes to watch medical dramas, and seems to genuinely want to be his other self even if he is aware that's impossible in his current reality.

Forseer Timleine

I haven't made much progress on this one, so we are going straight to bullet points on things I think are relevant.

Each of the myths cards take place in a world called Philos. It is unclear if this place is a planet, a country, or just a city as each Myths card seems to have a distinct cultural feel and history to it. I am leaning towards planet as Xavier is an alien and refers to earth as if he is foreign to it.

Xavier and MC also talk about how Philos is dying in his Myths card because of the wanderers, and that the wanderers will eventually leave Philos and make there way somewhere else.

It is a commonly liked head cannon that Dr. Zayne became a cardiologist because of MC's heart condition, and while that still might be true I think it might be a sort of residual desire to help her from his Forseer self, as MC breaks into his prison to try and cure her heart condition, which is slowly turning her into ice.

... forseer's MC is a little out there tbh. Kind of out of pocket and honestly I love that for her. If I was told I only had 3 years left to live my reaction wouldn't be to break into the Vatican to see if the Pope had any reliquaries that could prove my doctor wrong but I guess we all deal with grief differently.

I talked in the original timeline about the fact that all versions of Zayne like jasmine, but I am noting it here again as he agrees to not kill MC if she can convince his houseplant to bloom. Did I mention she broke into his house? Did I mention she did this practically claiming to be a government official? Of course Zayne is just going to shrug off her antics, even if he doesn't remember it he has seen worse.

My last sort of point I want to make here is that Xavier has a bit of throw away dialogue in battle asking whether or not something is "immortal or undying." Forseer Zayne refers to himself as undying, and has an issue with controlling his ice evol to the point it should be killing him, but isn't for some reason. It is also implied in MC's dialogue he is being used as a tool by Philos, which is something she can't stand. As for why this distinction is important, as of this point in time, I don't think Zayne is aware of his life as the Forseer because he is not immortal, unlike Rafayel or Xavier. When the Forseer dies, his memory of his life will go with him while Rafayel keeps his and Xavier- Well he just hasn't died yet.

Dr. Zayne and Dawnbreaker Zayne might be aware of each other because they still posses the same gift that the Forseeer (allegedly) does, or it might just be because of their connection to the MC, or because of the rift in spacetime above Linkon. It might even be a combination of all three. Whatever it is, it's a lot less complicated to understand than whatever the hell Rafayel has going on and makes me wonder how exactly all of these various timelines fit into place.

When I get more familiar with the rest of the lore I will make a very pretty diagram on my white board complete with color coding because this story has me in a chokehold for no good reason.

Final Thoughts

While I was thinking about all this, an idle thought came to mind that maybe the three current ROs sort of represent the past (Rafayel), the present (Zayne), and the future (Xavier) even though all three arguably have some sort of past with the MC in their Myths cards. The mystery fourth RO would then represent an alternate reality in my deluded mind, maybe a split timeline created by MC's current actions???

I am doubtful that the events in Linkon city we are currently experiencing are meant to be MC's "origin point" (or whatever timeline she originally came from), but that just makes me wonder what the hell is. I want to know who or what caused the deepspace tunnel to appear. I said on another post that it probably has something to do with the destruction of Philos, and while I do sort of still think that I have no real reason to beyond a hunch.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 37

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, MC POV, slight incesty vibes, partying, drunk reader, alcohol consumption

Words:

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

Thalina sat in front of you the wooden figures of Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar. Toys you had grown to love as much as you did Thalina. The fear that had taken deep root in you once Rhaegar left Dragonstone was replaced by a sense of wonder and joy. Thalina knew you needed a friend, at least one, on the foreign island.

The light on your nightstand flickered comfortably, setting shadowy characters behind her as Thalina sat down next to you on the edge of your bed. She smiles at you, long honey brown hair that was normally elegantly braided, hung off of her shoulders. “Tonight I have a gift for you to accompany your story.”

Giddy about your potential surprise, you sit up against your pillow. Waiting expectantly while Thalina opens a drawstring bag. Onto your bedspread, she dumps out its contents and you smile when you see more dragon miniatures like the first gift she had ever given you. Together, along with the three you already had, there were fourteen of them.

“Now, my little one, do you know the names of these eleven other dragons?”

There were a few you could easily name and point to. You insisted that your nannies read you books upon books of dragon history, but there was only so much you could remember at such a young age. It had been quite a while since you had last refreshed on this subject matter.

“Famous Targaryen dragons, of course.” Thalina nods and toys with one that was an off-white color but had a golden chest. “And where did they get such names?”

“From Valyria?”

She chuckled. “Yes of course. But even Valyrians can not take credit for them. You see, these fourteen dragons are named after the Gods of Valyria. The very gods that created the men of valyria created dragons first. And this handsome fellow,” Holding up the one with the golden chest, Thalina names him “This is Arrax. He is considered the father of ancient Valyrian people. No, the gods weren’t dragons, but they did share some physical attributes. The gods have a body like men but also have wings, horns and tails, much like the creatures they created: dragons.”

You loved these late night rendevouz with Thalina. The grouchy septa that was in charge of looking after you didn't much like it when Thalina spoke of the other gods in Essos. You would often hear your septa call them heathens. So Thalina was forced to tell you stories when she knew that old grouch wasn't around to eavesdrop. Her stories always gave you the most exciting dreams. Dreams where dragons still existed and you were lucky enough to ride them.

"It must have been fun to ride dragons." You had mused outloud. "Imagine being able to touch the clouds and go wherever you wanted! I could see Rhaegar at any time if I had a dragon. King's Landing isn't that far."

Thalina chuckled and kissed your brow as she tucked you back in; setting your new collection of dragons on your nightstand. All fourteen lined up perfectly. "Maybe one day when you're older things will change."

Your attendants had rushed you back to your apartments as you held the small hatchling in your arms. Her warmth calmed your rapidly beating heart and tampered the trembling of your muscles. By the gods. . . you had done it. Everything leading up to that moment meant nothing. Training, defeating a darkin, conjuring your own flames for Lightbringer; none could compare to the tiny life you pressed against your chest. Rhiannon’s cloak draped over your shoulders, the burnt orange material covered the little dragon although every once in a while it would flap open to show her beautiful, pearlescent scales along with your bare skin. Ash and smoke prevantly clung to you as your entourage passed through the corridors, your Fiery Hands making the way as if they expected a sudden enemy to pop out from around the corner. You couldn’t blame them or think they were too paranoid. What had happened out there was a miracle, a complete game changer to the history you were forging.

Too shocked to completely comprehend what was happening, you hadn’t even realized that Weles had opened your bedroom door.

Jaime’s protective hand falls onto your shoulder and he guides you inside. A muffled conversation between a red priest and Weles vaguely floated through your ear but you couldn’t discern what they were saying. All you could hear was the small chirps coming from your arms.

Your older brother sits you down and Rhiannon moves around him. “Nuha kosh, are you alright?”

“She’s in shock.”

“Obviously. She just hatched a dragon egg! The first one in centuries.”

Those who were deemed unimportant were shooed out of your room by Melisandre; Sirvart being her muscle to enforce her order. Alizah’s sweet, dream-like voice beckons

Inanna, who had been quietly watching, forward as the small girl was already holding a change of clothes for you.

“(y/n), I’m going to remove the cloak from you now.” Rhiannon gently informs you and you stiffly nod. Tyrion, Jaime and Inniros turn away to offer you at least some sense of privacy. There were still so many voices talking outside of your chambers, you wondered what chaos you had caused.

Inanna’s small shriek seemed to snap you out enough to focus on her as she literally jumped back. On your lap, the dragonling stretches her delicate looking wings. Curiously, the dragon cooed at her, tilting her head at the new person in front of her but not moving from you.

Melisandre quickly swoops in and motions for Inanna to leave. The girl shakingly bows before scurrying out of your room. Alizah follows after her quietly and you hope its to comfort the poor girl.

Presented with a new gown, you shoot a cautious glance over at the boys who had their backs turned to you before standing up and shifting the little dragon onto your bed. She- at least you felt like it was a female- didn’t like being separated from you even if it was just for a moment. The dragonling shrieks and hops around on the bed.

“Already the hatchling is bonded to you.” Melisandre’s red eyes sparkle exquisitely, watching the dragon’s movements with awe. Along with Rhiannon, the two red priestesses help you into a much more comfortable dress that flowed freely and didn’t restrict your movements. They also used a wet washcloth to run along your arms and legs to clean you off.

Nodding once the sunburst dress makes you decent, Rhiannon tells the boys they can turn back around. At that point, Siofra makes an appearance with a pair of shears and hands them to Rhiannon; all while eying the dragon on your bed.

Her bright ember eyes stare inquisitively at Siofra and the others who flitted about your room. Bravely, Tyrion approaches your bed and makes eye contact with the dragonling. His expression was filled with light and wonderment. “What are you going to name it?”

Jaime’s brows furrow and he walks next to Tyrion. “How can you even tell if it's a boy or a girl?”

You admit “I don’t know why, but I feel like this dragon is a female. Just something about her expressions.”

That makes Jaime chuckle a bit and he hesitantly holds out his hand in front of the little dragon. Startled by his actions, she moves back and snaps her toothpick sized teeth at him. Tyrion’s turn to laugh at Jaime’s rejection, your older brother scowls and holds his hand close to his chest. For being so small, the dragon was already showing the fire inside of her.

“I haven’t really had time to think of a name.”

This made Tyrion excited and he could barely contain himself when he asked “Can I choose her name? I’ve always wanted to name a dragon.”

You smile, finally feeling like yourself again and the shock dying down. “Make sure to decide on a good name fitting for her.”

Learning from Jaime’s mistake, instead of putting his hand over the hatchling’s head, Tyrion holds out his hand in front of her so that she may sniff it first. A natural connection was made between Tyrion and the hatchling when she allowed your little brother to gently pet her snout. “Her scales are so warm. Almost hot.”

“All dragons emit a natural heat from their bodies. Hotter than human skin, it could even scald.” Inniros comments out of the blue, Melisandre turn to face him. That was right, both were originally from Asshai so they must already know of dragonlore; secrets and knowledge that no one else knows about. With his single blue eye, Inniros glances at the Red Woman in an almost hostile way that you didn’t understand. Not for the first time either. The darkin, not getting along with the Fiery Hand for obvious reasons, didn’t seem to get along well with the temple’s priests and priestesses. They moved as far away from him as possible and Melisandre appeared to be the only one to tolerate Inniros’ presence.

When there’s a knock at your door, Sirvart leaves her station to crack it open. A brief conversation was carried out before she closed the door once again. “High Priest Benerro wishes to see you before the feast commences. For obvious reasons. And he would like you to bring. . .” Sirvart needn’t finish her sentence. Everyone looked over to Tyrion and the hatchling who was now climbing onto his shoulders. Her snout tussled around his wild hair as she inspected him.

“He’ll have to wait. (y/n) is in dire need of a trim.” Rhiannon holds up the shears that Siofra had handed her.

That’s right. Your hair must look a mess after the flames ate away your long tresses. You lift your hand to feel the choppy, dry ends. The longest piece you found barely reached your jawline. Never had your hair been so short. Vaguely you remember when Thalina was forced to cut off her own luxurious hair because of Viserys. Honestly, you thought she looked even cuter with short hair as it framed her round face better. Her hair curled into ringlets and there was nothing you enjoyed more than decorating her hair with various wildflowers that you found on the hills of Dragonstone.

Once Rhiannon cleaned up your hair, you were escorted to the temple’s chapel hall where the High Priest was attended by several others of his guild. Their whispering voices immediately stopped dead when your presence was made. The dragonling was on your shoulder once more; once she saw you moving away from her, she had quickly clambered off of Tyrion’s shoulder and leapt onto your back.

While your hair was being trimmed, the rest of your entourage had decided to dress themselves up for the upcoming feast that was to be held at sunset. Those of the Fiery Hand, including Jaime, wore exquisite robes and sashes. Siofra had dressed Tyrion in a nice shimmering beige tunic and over it was a burgundy short sleeve doublet that greatly reminded you of the Lannister colors. Both of your brothers looked charming in their outfits. Even Tyrion’s wild hair had been brushed and braided in the warrior style of the Fiery Hand.

The men present in the chapel all at once fell to their knees in front of you making you blush from embarrassment. You weren’t used to such adulation and you doubted it was something you would ever get accustomed to.

Even the High Priest bowed his head low, too old to actually get down on the hard ground. “Nuha kosh.”

Walking down the aisle that the other priests had made, you go up the small steps that led to the main altar. Benerro’s eyes fall upon the small dragon on your shoulder. She flapped her wings slightly to steady herself as you took each step carefully.

“Arlie ēza issare vēttan tubī (History has been made today).” He announces in that alarmingly strong voice that betrayed the feebleness of his mortal body. “Īlva kosh, Azōr Ahaī sigligon, ēza maghatan arlī se ēlī zaldrīzes pār pōja morghon(Our champion, Azor Ahai Reborn, has resurrected the first dragon since their extinction).”

The priests held up their hands to the vaulted ceiling, raising their praises in loud chants of jubilation. It startled your hatchling and she moved closer to the side of your neck and face.

In the Common Tongue, Benerro personally addresses you. “While this is certainly cause for celebration, unfortunately it also means we must address the safety of both you and the temple.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“The news of what has happened today has already spread. Many witnessed your miracle firsthand and have been quick to tell others. Some priests have voiced their concerns. There is fear among them that this news will bring upon assaults on our temple in order to acquire your dragon. While our Fiery Hand is strong, against another larger army, they could not possibly defend the temple properly. Which is why your journey to Asshai must proceed tomorrow morning.”

At first you gawked at him before clearing your throat. “Tomorrow?”

He nods solemnly. “You will be safer in Asshai until the dragon grows enough to defend itself. It would be best for you to depart as soon as possible, but tonight you can still enjoy yourself at the feast.”

You look behind you to Tyrion, wishing you had had more time to spend with him before your departure. Paining you to leave him so soon. This was necessary though. Pursing your lips in a firm line, you nod. “Of course.”

“It is best that your traveling group remains small, to attract less attention. Melisandre, Weles, and a priest have already been chosen to accompany you as well as the darkin.”

“Alizah will not be coming?” For some reason the assumption you held was that Alizah, being the most gifted priestess, would also be there.

>From the group behind you, Alizah steps forward. “While I would love to join you, unfortunately duty calls me to somewhere else. I will actually be leaving right away. Time is of the essence. I have faith in Lady Melisandre and Priest Rayzer that they will take good care of you. I will keep you in my prayers though.”

You hadn’t met a Rayzer before, at least you don’t remember. A lot of people have been introduced to you during your time at the temple. Some were merely visiting, others had quickly left to go on one of their missionary work.

“Your Grace,” Rhiannon slowly makes her way next to you, looking up imploringly at the High Priest “Please allow me to follow nuha kosh to Asshai. I may not be as useful as Lady Melisandre or even Lady Alizah, but there is nothing more I would greatly desire than traveling with (y/n).”

“Yes, please, Your Grace.” Humbly you bow your head and the High Priest hastily urges you to raise your face.

“If this is what you desire.”

“It is.” It would be hard enough leaving your brothers, but leaving Rhiannon behind would prove to be a lonely journey for you.

With the High Priest’s blessing, Rhiannon was permitted to go with you to Asshai. A great weight had been lifted off of your chest. While you would definitely miss Tyrion and Jaime, you would still have Rhiannon with you.

The day wore on, hasty plans being made for your departure, and the sun slowly dipping down below the horizon. Already the yard which was normally used for training was being decorated with braziers and great pits of fire that gave off plenty of natural light. Nobility from the Black Wall had ventured out and were already filling out the yard, replacing the sparring Fiery Hands with long gowns and exquisite robes. Even local merchants were in attendance, sporting their fineries.

You watched them from your balcony. Tyrion sitting at the table you normally ate breakfast at; your dragon playfully hopped around on the table, her nails clacking against the tile top. Jaime stood next to you, his arms folded in front of him. Just the three Lannister siblings. The others were preoccupied with their own tasks, reassuring security was set in place.

Sensing your rising nerves, Jaime says “You should be used to all this attention by now.”

A small laugh leaves you and you shake your head. “No. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I’ve spent all of my life being unnoticed. Even when I was married to Rhaegar, I was overlooked. I didn’t mind it, honestly. There were no expectations that I could ruin.”

“I don’t think you can ruin any now. You have done the impossible, (y/n).” He turns to you and the orange-pink glow radiating off of the sunset made Jaime appear to beam with warmth. The green of his eyes was so bright that they seemed to glow. A scar below his eye, courtesy of Inniros, was the only thing that blemished his otherwise handsome face.“Once father hears of this he’ll feel so ashamed of the years he disregarded you.”

You shrug, not particularly caring of what Tywin thought of you anymore. All of the things you had accomplished, you had done without the help of the Lord of Casterly Rock. What you were more so excited about was Rhaegar. If the news was spreading fast, then you hoped that Rhaegar would hear it too and know you were still alive.

“I’ve decided on a name!” Tyrion abruptly claims.

“Well, lets hear it.” Jaime grins and leaves your side to wander over to Tyrion. If Jaime looked beautiful in the light of sunset, then your little dragon certainly outshined him. Her scales, glittering with soft colors like that of an opal, were enhanced as she flapped her wings experimentally.

You left the balcony rail and joined your brothers.

Tyrion pretends to clear his throat. “I am proud to present to you Latilth.”

Jaime rolled the name around in his mouth before nodding. “A pretty name for an equally dazzling creature.”

“I like it. Latilth.” As if already knowing her name, Latilth cocks her head and waddles over to you. You smile and stroke the top of her head. Her small little horns were mere buds on her head. Everything about Latilth was so delicate. For now. One day this little hatchling would grow into the most deadly of predators that the world has ever seen. She would lead your army and help you defeat your enemies. On her back you would fly all the way back to Westeros. Some day you hoped for Rhaegar to see the both of you and how much you had grown. You still considered yourself to be meek, that was something that would take more time to remedy, but you weren’t that same little girl dying on her bed. The way Rhaegar left you.

Quietly, Tyrion asks you “How long will you be in Asshai?” He didn’t meet your gaze and you knew that he didn’t like you leaving him so soon.

You hug him from behind and hide your sad face in his hair. Tyrion smelled of sweet jasmine and citrus. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how long it will be to get there. But I’ll try to be back as soon as possible.”

“Remind me why you have to leave again.”

You chuckle. “There are secrets in Asshai that will help me. Plus as Azor Ahai reborn it is my duty to gather the darkin over to our cause.”Plus there was something that had been bugging you about the relationship between the Temple and the darkin. An off-hand comment that both Melisandre and Inniros had made. From what you had experienced with Inniros, he generally wasn’t a very friendly person. Around the priests and priestesses though (especially around the Fiery Hand) he seemed especially hostile.

Tyrion’s small hand grasps at your arm. “Here I thought we would have more time together.”

“Once I get back I promise we will. For now, you’ll just have to be satisfied with Jaime.”

“Rude.”

Both you and Tyrion giggle and you release him. “I know there is no one else who could take greater care of our little brother than you.”

“Of course. I’ll see what he learned from Ser Barristan. Hone his skill.” He promised and winked over at Tyrion.

There was a slight worry that the men of the Fiery Hand would be too rough. But you couldn’t coddle Tyrion because of his defect. You knew he hated that more than anything. Tyrion wanted to be just like Jaime no matter what.

You trusted Jaime to not let serious harm fall upon the youngest sibling. How much time would pass during your stay in Asshai? Upon your return you didn’t doubt that Tyrion would grow into a young man in your absence.

Calming your nerves about the future, you gaze back out to the yard. Watching the small figures below scurrying around like ants.

Latilth, wishing to be closer to her mistress, hobbled on the tile surface and made her way up your back. Tiny claws dragging along delicate fabric and eventually the skin of your back. Latilth’s claws could not yet compare to the ones that had originally torn into your skin.

Finally situated on your shoulder, Latilth rubs her forehead against your jawline. You grin and nuzzle against her. “Happy name day, Latilth.” You considered this celebration more for her. She would be the star of the show.

“I hope this party won’t be like the stuffy ones father always took us to.” By his voice, he’s already anticipating a boring occasion. Jaime had never been one for ceremony. Dressing up in formal wear and feigning his best behavior, Jaime loathed such gatherings. A cousin of yours in Lannisport had thrown a lavish gala and your parents had dragged all three of you along. Of course it was Cersei who flourished in that environment. She was dazzling, enchanting those around her while you stuck close to your mother’s skirts. Jaime could have been charming his relatives like his twin, but that held no interest to him. Instead he had incited rowdiness among male cousins closer to his age. Tywin, for everyone knew that Jaime was his favorite, merely gave him a quiet scolding on how to act. After all, Tywin still had hopes that Jaime would someday become the Lord of Casterly Rock.

“We’ll see if Volantis knows how to have fun.” you smile and bump your shoulder against his arm playfully. He replies with a grin.

For the first time in quite a while your life was content. At your side were both of your beloved brothers that you had so longed for during your lonely childhood. And on your shoulder was your sparkling future.

Jaime stares at (y/n)’s peace filled smile, her eyes no longer anxious but relaxed. It did indeed feel like Jaime could afford to breathe and rest. At least for the moment. He will have to watch his sister leave come tomorrow morning. Being parted from left a foul feeling in his chest. For nearly two years they had been traveling together, learning to trust one another enough to clash blades. Having suffered through a lot, Jaime was apprehensive about not going with her to Asshai. (y/n) could physically take care of herself, that was certain, yet that knowledge itself did not make the separation any easier for Jaime.Who knew what will befall her in the strange country known as Asshai. All he had ever heard of that place were horror stories.

Now he would take the opportunity to engrain her face into his memory. (y/n)’s short hair really suited her despite her short bangs revealing the scar above her eyebrow. Sparring under the swollen sun had gifted her with a dust of freckles over the bridge of her nose. Faint but still visible to Jaime’s admiring eyes. She shimmered before him, much like Latilth, the dragonling that had just been brought into the world but several hours ago. Already aware of herself, Latilth turned her head at every new sight and sound with no fear. Rather it was curiosity of the world, a world she could one day possibly rule.

So this is what Thalina had envisioned for (y/n). Jaime kicked himself for thinking the maid a raving lunatic. Had he truly understood, maybe he could have saved her in time too.

“You must do this. She is more important to the world than you can truly understand.” Thalina’s eyes had been so angry, that’s what Jaime had thought at the time. Even as tears reddened them and welled up. Now Jaime was older and wiser. Thalina had never been angry. It was fear that made her words tremble. She had clutched onto him so desperately, knowing that she would not be around for much longer. From living in the temple, Jaime was aware that Thalina had been able to see into the future by reading flames. Something that (y/n) seemed capable of at a rudimentary level. Jaime wondered how much of (y/n)’s future Thalina had seen.

Taking him a few moments to register that (y/n) was now looking at him, her thick brows crossed with concern. “Are you okay?” Her gentle tone automatically brought a light smile to Jaime’s lips. He loved her for many reasons but above all it was the fact that her tender heart still remained with her. After heartbreak and devastation, blood and tears, (y/n) held onto her kindness. This world would not tear her down. She was strong in her own way.

Just to wipe that look off her face, Jaime softly pinches the tip of her nose with his index and middle finger. The face and noise that came from her made both brothers laugh. She sputtered and slapped his hand away. “Yes I’m okay. What about you? It’s been a hell of a day.”

While rubbing her abused nose, (y/n) grins. Latilth seemingly cooes like a dove at (y/n)’s smile. What a strange creature. “Honestly I would enjoy a nap, but I suppose I’ll sleep plenty tonight.”

“They really don’t let you rest here.” Sighs Tyrion. “These people run you ragged. I guess that’s what happens when you’re a god’s chosen hero.”

(y/n)’s whole demeanor loses edge. “Even so, being here. . . I have some kind of purpose. The most fulfilling events of my life have happened here.”

Guilt and shame arise in Jaime whenever he is reminded of (y/n)’s childhood. For good reason too as Jaime should have been the one to protect his little sister, even if that meant going against Cersei. His childhood errors would always haunt him, even looking at how happy (y/n) was now. They could have been so much closer had he been a proper brother in the beginning. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so wrapped up in Cersei’s web. His cruel, lovely Cersei; Jaime’s heart still called out for her like a wandering soul. She was his other half after all. All the terrible things she had done to (y/n) though couldn’t be overlooked. Jaime would not stand idly by like he once did.

Jaime puts a hand on (y/n)’s vacant shoulder. Her beaming face when she looks up at him was enough to melt any negative wonderings that swirled in his head. “If you can get through today, I’m pretty sure you can survive anything. Asshai better watch out for you.”

Tyrion lowers his voice, glancing over his shoulder and back to his sister’s room. “Are you sure you trust Inniros?”

Not wasting a second, (y/n) confidently nods. “I do. Our meeting may not have been ideal, but I”ve spoken with him. The darkin aren’t a blood thirsty breed, not like the stories we heard. Inniros, above all things, is still just a mortal like us.”

The way she spoke of the darkin sparked a green flame like wildfire in Jaime. Her voice had turned soft when discussing Inniros. (y/n) held such sympathy for the man that would have so readily killed her. Jaime was not as trusting. In the blink of an eye, Inniros easily slaughtered Feichen and several other servants of R’hllor. Nightmares of being held captive by his own shadow still tormented Jaime in the night. He had been utterly helpless, an entirely new concept to Jaime. Helpless and forced to watch men he had trained with, men he had grown comfortable around, taken down like they were nothing. The scars that both he and his sister bore were courtesy of the darkin, but (y/n) seemed eager to forget that.

Underneath his skepticism belied his jealousy. A jealousy he had continuously tried to squash down. “Lets hope you’re right.” He wanted her to be right. The alternative was something Jaime didn’t want to entertain like the thought of Inniros turning the darkin against her when she got there.

Only thing for Jaime to do was simply place his faith and trust in his sister. After all this time, (y/n) was constantly surprising him.

Rich red wine flowed heavily in your veins. It was the only thing to tamper down your natural shyness. Indeed this party was better than any you had attended in Westeros. Even outshining your wedding banquet which had overall been an awkward occasion.

Torches and braziers were lit and a large campfire had been erected in the center of the training field. Pleasing you to see many of the occupants in the temple letting loose and enjoying themselves. Weles looked absolutely stunning in his formal attire, so unlike his sparring robes that he normally dawned. The captain was completely at ease, enjoying the atmosphere and even more so admiring that his own warriors were having fun as well. You noticed this as Weles watched Yophiel and Sirvart covertly flirting with one another. This supposed secret interaction made Weles smile to himself and take a sip of his wine. Light from the torches made the yellow tattoos on his face stand out against his dark skin. You enjoyed watching your friends be carefree and wild.

Friends.

You had never really had friends before. Thalina and Tyrion were the only friends you could conjure up from your memory. Even then Tyrion was too little to even be speaking full sentences.

Now you observed Rhiannon dancing with Iyan in a ridiculous manner, but they didn’t care. Dritan walks up to them middance and Rhiannon leaves Iyan, the other Fiery Hand coaxing her off to the side in a private conversation. Iyan goes back to his dancing as is soon joined by the beautiful Ilta. You could even hear some of the red priests who stood off to the side cackling with laughter and slapping one another on the back. In the very center was Inanna teaching Tyrion a traditional dance.

Eyes catching those you didn’t recognize and who Nuahlin had whispered to you in the beginning as those who lived behind the Black Wall. Beyond the Black Wall is what many referred to as “Old Volantis”. No outlander, freeman, or foreigner is allowed inside the Black Wall. These were nobles above all else. In turn they watched you with lingering gazes. Nuahlin told you that while they don’t believe in R’hllor, they were nevertheless curious about the young girl whom the High Priest celebrated as Azor Ahai reborn and her newborn dragon.

Latilth, enjoying the pieces of cooked meat that you fed to her here and there, kept to either your shoulder or the comfort of your arms. While she was small, many did not dare come up to you. Intimidating for the very fact that one day the little dragon would become something to fear.

“Naejot se ābri hen bantis! (To the ladies of the evening!)”

“Vidarr!” You chirp and clink glasses with him.

His lavender eyes are filled with good tidings and he siddles next to you. A temple handmaid quietly walks over to Vidarr, offering another decanter of wine which he gladly poured into his empty chalice. “They haven’t had a party like this in decades. So I’ve been hearing at least from the old men.”

Interested in the new face before her, Latilth leans off of your shoulder slightly to sniff at Vidarr.

He chuckles and holds out his hand in front of her nose so that she may inspect him. “She is beautiful for such a dangerous creature. May she grow to be as big as the temple!” Latilth eyed his fingers before giving one sniff then retracting her body back to you. It was clear that she saw you as security.

“I hope so. Once she’s big enough then we can return to Westeros. Who knows how long that will take though.” You hoped that in that time, Rhaegar would prove triumphant in the war against Aerys. In your heart whispered something else “Wait for me, Rhaegar”. Was the whisper of your heart doomed to shrivel up and die? He was technically free to remarry as everyone believed you to be dead. If he wanted, he could take Lyanna as his bride; she was the woman he had wanted all along. Now that he was allies with the north, this would look to be a great opportunity for both sides. The north could claim that their Lady Lyanna was a queen to the Dragon Prince.

“There are many secret magics in Asshai.” Vidarr commented. “Perhaps you’ll find something that will make her grow fast. Although I know the temple will miss you desperately when the time comes for you to return to Westeros. Many of us will go with you, of course, but those who don’t have a high station will be forced to stay here.”

“Some of the Fiery Hand will have to stay here to protect the temple.” You wonder who would be chosen to stay. Of course Weles couldn’t, he was the captain and most skilled out of any of his men and women.

The Myrenese smile at you. “Matters to worry about come tomorrow. For now, enjoy these last moments. Have you spoken to any from the Black Wall?”

You tell him that while you haven’t actively gone up to one, they seemed to want to examine you and Latilth from a distance.

Those from the Black Wall believed in the religion of Old Valyria. Vaguely you recall Thalina telling you these tales with the dragon statuettes that she gifted to you.

A dragon after so many years is exciting for anyone, but you guessed they were especially holding high hopes for Latilth. Dragons held an intricate position in their religion.

“Are you able to dance with the Lady Latilth on your shoulder?” Vidarr sets aside his cup and holds out a hand to you.

Laughing at calling Latilth a ‘lady’ and warn him “Even with Latilth, I’ve never been much of a dancer. I have two left feet.”

“I can attest to that.” Jaime buds in, his thick arms crossed in front of his chest. “I believe (y/n) owes me a dance first.”

Vidarr holds his hands up innocently with a smile on him. “Of course, Ser. I will wait my turn patiently.”

The gold bracers on his forearms shimmered when he held out his hand. “Lilagon lēda nyke, ñuha kosh.(Dance with me, my champion)” His Valyrian shocked you and you neary didn’t register what he said. It was flawless, unlike his usual struggle with the pronunciation.

You stare at him with wide, enchanted eyes. “Who taught you that?”

“The best teacher there is: our own brother Tyrion.”

No time to hear any of your protests, Jaime guides you to the center ring of the dancing figures. Latilth excitedly flaps her wings, startling those around you at her abrupt movement. With his fingers entwined with yours, he unexpectedly twirls you around and you try your best to keep your steps as fluid as possible. The dragon on your shoulders clung to you but beat her wings as if dancing along with you and your brother. Live music that was being played by local musicians, picked up speed with their notes. In reply you and Jaime acted accordingly. He was so light on his feet, you panicked when you tripped over your own feet. Jaime had a tight hold on you and prevented you from falling. Elegantly he moves along with your desperate steps.

Pulling you closer to him, Jaime whispers in your ear “Relax, (y/n). Just pretend we’re sparring. You’ve always said it’s like a violent dance.”

Pretend we’re sparring. . . Okay, I can do that.

You take a deep breath before Jaime releases you in a spin. Right in front of him, the sparring began. Pivoting around him, your arms acted as swords. When they clashed, Jaime was actually touching your skin in a manner that sent shivers up your arms. His smile was brilliant as he matched your footsteps, going along with the fast paced music.

At this you were much better. Regular dancing had always scared you but this was freeing. You felt wild and untamed in this faux fight. Jaime. . . Jaime was the perfect partner for you. If you had danced with him at your wedding, you wondered if it would have been as easy as this. Probably not, not with those oppressive eyes on you. The eyes of your father, sister, and those who didn’t care an ounce about you.

Now you used your training that Weles had drilled into to keep light on your toes to keep up with Jaime. More surprising was the way Latilth moved her body along to prevent the movements from making her fall off of you.

Then as the music came to an end, you wound up staring right up into Jaime’s eyes in the final position. Both of your were flushed and grinning wildly as your audience clapped and cheered at your performance. A spark, perhaps it was the wine, energized your chest as you smile at Jaime. The two of you had been through so much but he had proven that he was there to stay by your side. So much love thrummed in you for Jaime. You gave his hands a squeeze since he still held onto them tightly. How would you survive Asshai without your knight?

Your body, out of its own accord, wrapped arms around Jaime and embraced him tightly. With your ear pressed against his chest, you heard the strong beating of his heart. Maybe it was an inappropriate time to show this display of affection but you didn’t care.

Slowly Jaime returns the embrace and places his cheek on the crown of your head. How long had it been since you received any kind of physical attention from a man? You couldn’t even remember the last time you laid in Rhaegar’s bare arms. It had to have been when you were heavily pregnant before. . . before the poison took everything away from you.

Not until Jaime had returned your desperate embrace did you realize how much you had missed such contact.

You close your eyes and try to capture the moment. Something you could replay on lonely nights in Asshai.

Jaime laughed at you as he helped you back up to your room. You had never consumed so much wine in your entire life and you feared you had overdone it. Unsteady on your feet, you relied heavily on your older brother to safely get you to your bed. At your stumbling, Latilth had fled from your shoulders and onto Jaime’s.

Through some garbling, you managed to get out “Serry Latilth. . .”

“Lets hope you don’t wake up hungover.” Jaime chuckled more so to himself as you were hovering in and out of consciousness. You had so much fun after dancing with Jaime. Vidarr danced with you in the same way and even lumbering Yophiel wanted a turn. Drinking helps you to get out of your shell more and interact with others. A priest whom you had never spoken to before had the interesting hobby of stone carving while another showed off his “fire breathing” skills.

“Waz dat?”

“That’s what happens when you drink too much. You get sick the following morning.” Jaime shakes his head, still holding his smile at your slurred speech.

“Oh nooooo.” Groaning, at least you were somewhat coherent as to realize that you could possibly be sick when you board the ship to Asshai. That was the last thing you needed. The relationship between you and the sea had never been a kind one. Crashing of the waves and the jostling of the vessel always made you sick to your stomach.

Reaching the door to your chambers, Jaime jostles both you and Latilth so he could open the door. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get lots of water into you. Hopefully there’s something they have to combat nausea.”

Very carefully he made his way to your bed and gently laid you down. Latilth hopped off of him and nuzzled against your side. Her presence sobered you up a little so that you could watch Jaime go to your wardrobe and pull out a comfortable night shift.

He holds it up for you to see. “Do you think you can dress yourself?”

Even lifting yourself up to your elbows was hard work and in the end you let yourself fall back onto the mattress.

“I guess not. I can go call upon Siofra-”

“No. Dun bover her.” You waved at him. “I’ll just. . . sleep in my clothes.”

Jaime shrugs and tosses your shift off to the side. From the decanter on your table, he pours water and lifts your head enough so you could easily drink. The water tasted sweet against your tongue. Drinking until you had your fill, your brother puts aside the decanter and lays right next to you.

“Jemmie?”

You hear him laugh quietly. “Yes?”

You roll onto your side that faced him. Never during your journey had you been so close to him. Even when sharing the same room and bed there was always a distance. Now though you could easily see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed quietly. What you really wanted to ask him was whether or not he thought Rhaegar would marry Lyanna in the end. You were reminded of how he naturally had a dislike for Rhaegar after what had happened. That seemed so long ago but he still held a hatred for him. Even on your way to Volon Therys the two of you had gotten into a spat about Rhaegar.

He doesn't want to hear about Rhaegar, (y/n).

The last days of your normal life at King’s Landing felt like a far off dream. You had thought that maybe against all odds that Rhaegar was finally falling in love with you. His kisses, caresses and eyes when he gazed upon you all screamed love. There was your uncertainty though. Was he pretending? Did he still desire Lyanna Stark? The thought that killed you the most is if Rhaegar had been pretending the entire time. No, you didn’t want to believe that. That wasn’t Rhaegar. Rhaegar’s love couldn’t be faked.

Jaime will think he was pretending all along. That Rhaegar could never love you because he already loved Lyanna.

In your inebriated stupor, all words left you and you burst into tears.

Her tears dried up after some time of letting (y/n) cry herself out. Jaime held her close to him, feeling his exposed chest grow wet from her eyes. Quivers raking her body eventually subsided as her breathing returned to almost normal. At first he wanted to laugh when he first saw her crying, chalking it up to the immense amount of alcohol that she had consumed. But there was a genuine sadness in the way (y/n) sobbed.

Before that night, Jaime had never touched her in such a way. Close and intimate like the way she had embraced him earlier. Due to his afflictions he tried his best to keep himself at arm’s length from his sister, a sister he greatly desired. Things couldn’t be the same way it had been with Cersei. (y/n) wasn’t Cersei. She was pure and untainted by malice and sin. He wanted her to stay that way. And if (y/n) were to ever find out about his secret? She certainly would never look at him the same way. When she had confronted Jaime about his incestuous relationship with his twin, the expression on his face made him want to shrivel up and die on the spot. The dirt of such immoral acts suddenly weighing him down. All those times he had been with Cersei, Jaime had never cared if it was a sin or not. To hell with everyone who thought what he was doing was wrong. Until he saw the disgust on her face. When tempers did die down and (y/n) willing to discuss it, she seemed to understand that no one could help who they fell in love with. Her past with Cersei though added a tone of hurt in her words. Cersei had caused great trauma to her, physically and mentally. While Jaime never got the feeling that (y/n) hated Cersei, (y/n) definitely did not like her.

To her, Cersei was the most revolting creature there could ever be.

Jaime learned a great deal about self-control around (y/n). He couldn’t afford for her to find out about the dreams he had of her at night. How he longed to kiss her and know her as a lover as well. It would never and could never be.

Her silence prompted Jaime to peek down at her face. The tears were no longer and she appeared to be fast asleep. He sighs in relief and moves his arm out from under her. The gem colored dragon peered over (y/n)’s shoulder and at Jaime. Two small balls of fire.

“Take care of each other.” His whisper is picked up by Latilth. There was an almost human intelligence to her that startled him. She looked like she was listening to each word he said and understanding them.

Without making much movement, Jaime gets off of the bed and walks around it until he stood on the other side. Staring down at his sleeping sister, his body refused to move. When the sun rose back into its proper place in the sky, she would be gone. How odd her absence will be. This would be much different from when she left Casterly Rock for Dragonstone. He would miss her terribly.

If you’re really there, Lord of Light, hear my plea and do not take it lightly. Protect her. She is your champion. If YOU prove to be worthy, then I will dedicate myself to the cause of the Fiery Hand and get one of those damn tattoos. I will live out the end of my days in service to you and (y/n). Just bring her back to me safely.

Leaning over her, Jaime made sure that she was deep in sleep before kissing the corner of her mouth; the only thing he would allow himself. R'hllor better bring back his sun, for without (y/n) there could be no sunshine for Jaime.

When he walked out into the darkened corridor, he felt something off; a very familiar sensation shot up his spin. In mere seconds a dagger was in Jaime’s hands as he glared into the shadows. “Alright, come out you darkin bastard.”

There was no way Jaime would ever get used to witnessing the darkin’s power at work. This creature was the perfect predator. No matter what (y/n)’s views on him, Inniros was nothing more than a monster to Jaime and many of the other Fiery Hands. His union with darkness itself, well, it was simply sinister in nature.

A ghost white face meets Jaime followed by a shock of red hair that was sheared close to his scalp. One lone blue eye greeted him and it was enough to make Jaime’s stomach ill. “You have escorted (y/n) safely to her bed, I presume?”

Indignation flared in Jaime, desiring nothing else but to bury his weapon deep into that remaining eye of his. “Were you spying on us?”

“You sound like you have something to hide.” replied Inniros, aggravating Jaime’s last nerves.

“You’re lucky my sister needs you to get through Asshai.”

“Both your sisters required my skill.” He nods. “But only one do I truly adhere to. My only target to ever survive. I haven’t had such a fight in quite a long time. (y/n) though, she bested me. My master will be curious to see her.”

He didn’t trust him yet Inniros was the one to go with (y/n), not Jaime. His fears crept back up on him about (y/n)’s safety. No way was he letting her go now, not without him.

Inniros sighed at the deadly glare that Jaime was stabbing into him. “Put away your daggers. I didn’t need to spy to understand your affections for her.”

“Then why are you here?!” Snapped Jaime. He wasn’t dumb enough to believe that he could take on Inniros one-on-one. Indeed Jaime possessed an infamous swordhand that won him a spot on the Kingsguard at the youngest age any had seen, but meant nothing against a darkin. The lighting of the sconces mounted on the hallway walls gave Inniros the complete upperhand as more shadows were flickering about.

Putting it bluntly, Inniros said “I’m sorry I killed your comrades. I’m sure they would have had more of a chance against a normal man.”

Not sure whether to laugh or to rip him apart, Jaime pressed his back against the hard stone wall and slammed his head hard. How easily he apologized with not an ounce of emotion! Then again, could darkin even have emotions? (y/n) had said he was a mortal just like them, but how could one still be human and wield such a villainous power and not be poisoned by it. . . Certainly there had to be a price that your soul paid.

“Your sister instructed me to kill anyone who was in my way. And she ideally wanted you returned to her alive.”

“Don’t talk about her.”

Waiting and allowing for Jaime to calm down, Inniros remained silent until he felt Jaime’s heart beat slow to a moderately normal rhythm. From a pocket within his black cloak, the darkin pulled out a leather pouch; tossing it at Jaime’s feet. Reaching his arm down to retrieve, Jaime’s eyes were trained on Inniros who didn’t seem to ever blink. In the sconce’s light he saw gold coins from varying countries in both Westeros and Essos. Jaime picked up a golden dragon coin, pursing his lips when he imagined who it came from.

Cersei. . . even I didn’t think you so hateful. Not the mischievous girl he had grown up with. The very one who would sneak off from her own lessons and switch with Jaime. As small children it was hard to tell them apart if they were not wearing gender distinguishing clothes. Many times unbeknown to the sword master himself, it would be Cersei wearing Jaime’s clothes; both having had the same length of hair.

“Do with it what you will. I don’t want it anymore. All of what Cersei gave me is there as well as my own from years traveling through Essos. You do not trust me and you are right not to. I hold no ill will toward you, Jaime Lannister. The condemnation I feel is for myself.” Clear that Inniros had no more words left to exchange, he begins his way past (y/n)’s door. He didn’t even pause as he passed by a gaping Jaime. No sound came from his footsteps but Jaime knew when he had turned the corner. The atmosphere that normally enveloped the general area when Inniros was around had disappeared.

Jaime weighed the pouch in his hand.

Thinking of Cersei.

Thinking of (y/n).

Taglist:

@boywivlove

@esposadomd

@domoron

@yentroucnagol

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

@bregarc

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

🐉𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰🐉 (WORK IN PROCESS)

Including warnings, wether they were one-shots or bigger stories and other useful things like when I wrote them and how dark Aemond is in the stories. The list is a work in process so please be patient as I try my best to get it together:)) The princess of Dragonstone is fully published her and on archive.

My one shots are here as well.

The list is devided into older more dark and less polished content and warnings should be headed before clicking on anything of it.

BIGISH STORIES

🐲The princess of dragonstone🐲 Completed.

THE PRINCESS OF DRAGONSTONE IS COMPLETED AND HAS HER OWN BEAUTIFUL MASTERLIST HERE. DO MIND HER WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ. THANK YOU.

🐝FIRE AND BLOOD🐝An intense story about two rivial brothers, doomed to always wanting to outshine each other, a civil war, and a noble girl who loses everything caught between them. Aemond x oc, Aegon x oc. Smut, dark smut, sharing, non-con, dub-con, brat-taming, slavexmaster things dom/sub themes and sadism as well as major characters death (but not aemond nor aegon or mc)

Chapter one: Lessons and punishments

Chapter Two: Plans and plots

Chapter Three: First times

Chapter Four: Jealousy

Chapter five: Death and duty

CHAPTER SIX: Punishment

Chapter seven: Aftermath

Chapter eight: Drinking

Chapter Nine: Battubs and compensation

Chapter ten: Pain and pleasure

Chapter eleven: The death of duty

Chapter 12: The death of duty

Chapter 13: That still small voice

Chapter 14: Kinslayer

Chapter 15: Dragons and the bee

Chapter 16: Last fluttering of wings

Chapter 17: The new norma;

Chapter 18: Reunion

Chapter 19: Queen of the Hive

Chapter 20: Fire and blood

Chapter 21 :the dance of two dragons

Chapter 22: a unwilling queen

FUTURE CHAPTERS ARE PLANNED FOR THIS FIC!!

❄️Snow Falls❄️ (x Aemond only) deliciously dark!Aemond, some say the darkest out of them. Aemond Targaryen is looking for allies in the North, for his brother's cause. So, he goes to the second biggest house in the North: House WyldeWoods of WyldeCrest. He takes a interest in the daughter of Lord Wyldewoods, the coy and mysterious lady Willa. She was never mentioned in the books discussing her familiy, and he wonders as to why that is. After Lord WyldeWoods makes some rather anti-Valyrian comments, Aemond takes you prisoner and beheads your family, claiming you as his wife and spoils of war.

CHAPTER ONE: Winter is coming

CHAPTER TWO: FIRSTS

CHAPTER THREE: SNOW DRIFTS

CHAPTER 4: THE PRICE

CHAPTER 5: ESCAPE

CHAPTER 6: THE FOX AND THE DRAGON

CHAPTER 7: THE THING YOU LOVE MOST

CHAPTER 8: THE PRICE OF GOLD

CHAPTER 9: SLAUGHTER OF INNOCENCE

CHAPTER 10: THINGS WE DO IN THE DARK

CHAPTER 11: The North remembers

CHAPTER 12: NIGHTMARES AND DAYDREAMS

CHAPTER 13: THE BURDEN

CHAPTER 14: REBELLION

CHAPTER 15: Fire and Blood

CHAPTER 16: AWAIT OUR TURN

CHAPTER 17: IF THE CARRIAGE IS ROCKING-

CHAPTER 18: READING

CHAPTER 19: KINGS AND QUEENS

CHAPTER 20: LESSONS IN THE BEDROOM

CHAPTER 21: The prince and the fox

Chapter 22:The bathroom

Chapter 23: The library

Chapter 24: The dining room

Chapter 25: Running around in circles

Chapter 26: Attonment

PILLARS OF SALT AND PILLARS OF SAND

Story about Harwins and Rhaenyra's daughter who bends the knee to Aegon to save Luc life. (Aegon central fanfic) Darkish (but aegon is not dark)

Chapter one: Storm's end

Chapter two: Alternatives

Chapter Three: Prisoner

Chapter four: A demented idea

Chapter five: The wrath of a mother

Chapter six: A shadow of a conquerer

Chapter seven: Two princesses, one dreamer

Chapter eight: Of wives and kings

Chapter nine: Those last moments of what we call ''freedom''

Chapter ten: The realms villian

Chapter eleven: One soul, one heart, one flesh

Chapter 12: The house that carried the dragon

Chapter 13: Gods, guts, gifts.

ONE SHOTS

Due to space issues, the one-shots wont be on my archive. You can find them here on tumblr:)

🦌Storm's ends fury 🦌

A short story about Maris Baratheon and her kiss with Aemond Targaryen at Storm's End. (Very short, barely 400)

🦌Fury's Storm, alternative version🦌

A short story very samilair to plot above might be a rewrite i did i cant recall how this ended up on my profile. Bratty Aemond though.

🐧The things we do for love 🐧(Dark!Aemond and Aegon capture daemons lover. Smut and other things) part 2 and now recently part 3

🧀Untiteld genderbend cheese assasin x aemond fanfic🧀 x aemond mostly

🌓The first night x aegon mostly🌓 A story about a girl marrying her love and Aegon and aemond getting upset with her breaking the laws.

🔫the devil made us sin criminal au story about criminal aegon and aemond 🔫

🌖For the night is dark and full of terrors: 🌖Priesteress mc who loves Aegon and her mother wants his throne

🔫The devil made us sin other version 🔫

🔫The devil made us sin gore aemond or aegon snippet🔫

🦌Storm born baratheon x aemond one shot. part 1 and 2 🦌

The maid of the red keep oneshot

Pirate mc one shot

The final devil made us sin and the best one at that part 2 is here

Lion brat part one

Spy queen x prince regent aemond

Aemond x Daemon one shot

GOTXHOTD One shot

ashes burn

The girl in the silver dress

Daddy dearest

Sandstorm

----

Updated on October 22 2023

[paraliveimaginesblog]

Hello! I would like to request number 14 for kanata yatonokami :')) maybe in a context where he can finally be alone with mc¿?

Kanata Yatonokami:

14. A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.

You thought something was wrong.

You’re not used to receiving texts from Kanata that demand your presence, and you’re even more worried when you remember he had an interview to do today. You hadn’t received an annoyed message from Nayuta and the group chat you’re in with the twins is silent, so you can’t help but be curious about what this summoning was about. When you’re finally ready to leave the house, you have two more texts from Kanata, and you’re reading them as you open your front door just to slam into a solid, unmoving object. You’re about to apologize to the poor mailman you must’ve run into when you’re met with the unhappy face of your boyfriend.

“K-Kanata! I was just about to read—” You’re silenced by the way he crushed his lips against yours, pushing you back into the apartment and slamming the door closed with his foot. He fumbled with the lock, refusing to break the lip lock you were in now, even as you tried to question him through his flurry of kisses.

His energy is infectious, this Kanata being a one so rare you don’t remember the last time you’d seen him. While his kisses are normally tempered yet sweet, this one is full of need, of desperation, wanting to be close to you. He wants to be in you, his tongue pushing past his lips, the wet appendage rubbing against your mouth as you tried to match his energy. It seemed to be exactly what he wanted, his arms wrapping themselves tighter around you; he was treating this like this was his last day on earth. Like he was about to leave you for a long time and he needed one last taste of you to remember while he was gone.

You whimpered, letting out a gasp next as Kanata finally gave you the chance to breathe fresh air. You could see his lips were pinker than normal and yours were probably not fairing much better, wondering how many kisses had been exchanged in such a short amount of time. The glint in his eyes tells you that he’s not done with you yet, hiding his face from you briefly so you couldn’t see his pathetic behavior on full display.

He couldn’t explain it but he needed you, and he needed the comfort you brought him now.