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greenleaf4stuff · 2 days ago

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A Rainy Night In Eregion

(my other TROP fanfics)

Silverscars (Adar x Celebrimbor) for TROP Cozy Cuddle(s) Week 2025. Fluff, some humor. Celebrimbor, wrapped up warm under the covers with a book, waits for Adar to come to bed as well. Only for the uruk to arrive dripping wet and shivering (despite what he might claim) from the ice-cold temperatures and the rain outside. As he shivers and his teeth chatter, the elf shows concern and coaxes Adar into cuddling for warmth. Celebrimbor might suffer cold feet at his shins, a chilly nose at his neck and freezing hands on his body. But he’d do it again for Adar any time.

Yaaay my first fic for Cozy Cuddle(s) Week 2025! :D And of course it’s silverscars again. I had a few ideas bouncing around my head once I first heard of the event, but only managed to sit down and actually write this down about 2 weeks before it started. The idea just wouldn’t leave my head! I hope you lovely people will like this! Enjoy!

Thank you again @rivendellwatch for organizing this event, and good luck to all the lovely writers, cheerleaders, readers, graphics makers, commenters and other people who participate in it! <3

(For those of you who prefer to read this fanfic on AO3, here is the link)

Autumn had arrived in Eregion. By day, this meant the trees were hanging full of leaves in the colors of golden yellow, fire orange and sunrise red. Gatherers would go out to collect mushrooms in the forest across the river, and parents would collect acorns and pinecones with their children to decorate their houses with.

By night, however, this meant that temperatures would drop to the point that Celebrimbor preferred wearing a thick cloak as he walked back to his private quarters, and would often light the fireplace – or put in more wood – as soon as he entered any room.

Autumn also meant that big, dark clouds hung over the city at times, as was the case on this very day. It thankfully hadn’t started to rain until the late evening however, and so the Lord of Eregion had reached his chambers without any problems, aside from some mild shivering.

Now, he was safely tucked into bed and had managed to warm up again. The fireplace was not properly lit anymore but still glowing faintly, and would hopefully keep the rooms at a temperature that wasn’t freezing cold till the early morning hours.

Leaning against the headboard with two thick, fluffy pillows at his back, most of his body safely hidden underneath a mountain of blankets, and with a book in hand, the smith found it easier to bear the change of the seasons, even if he found himself missing the sun at times.

There was a faint chill in the air even in his bedroom, however, which made him pull up the covers with a small frown. He reminded himself, not for the first time, that the seasons were beneficial for the animals and the plants, even if he, as a singular elf, was not particularly fond of the resulting changes. Or that the prospect that the warmest days of the year might be over.

He also reminded himself that this meant he’d have time for different things – less walks in the gardens perhaps, or standing outside the balcony to drink tea, but instead more evenings he could retire early and read, or spend time in bed with the one he loved and cared about.

It was still hard to believe at times, that he and Adar had found each other. Or how they had done so. Their relationship had begun rather tumultuously, when the leader of the uruk and his most loyal children had managed to sneak into Eregion, and steal Celebrimbor like one would a treasure.

Right from underneath Annatar’s nose. Who was actually not called Annatar, but Sauron, and who had been pretty angry about the smith’s disappearance, to say the least. He’d learned much from Celebrimbor already, but as it turned out, he still couldn’t make the rings for men on his own.

Luring the Deceiver into a trap, fighting and defeating him had taken a long time, and put the elf into much danger, but it had all been worth it in the end. Eregion and Mordor were now safe, as was all of Middle-earth, and Celebrimbor and Adar, well…

It seemed as if shared concern for their people and conviction to kill Morgoth’s Shadow once and for all could serve as more than just a way to collaborate. Celebrimbor still didn’t know exactly how it had happened, but – they’d become rather fond of each other. To the point of protecting each other from the elves, the uruk, and Sauron alike.

To the point that now, years and years later, they were still feeling the same kind of affection for each other as what had grown between them in the uruk camp. Yes, mundane everyday life had found its way into their relationship as well, as was to be expected, but nobody could deny they were still very much in love with each other.

Least of all the two of them.

Case in point, Celebrimbor had tucked Adar’s covers underneath his own, so that when Adar returned to their chambers, he could give him the warmed sheets to lay under. The uruk often claimed to be impervious to the elements, in response to which Celebrimbor nodded and pretended not to be aware of the way the other shivered after being outside for longer periods of times.

He’d learned that yes, the uruk as a whole were able to withstand great heat, like that of the Orodruin and Mordor, but once water froze into ice, they were as vulnerable as anyone else. Including Adar. Who of course pretended otherwise to set a good example, and appear stronger than he truly was.

Celebrimbor supposed it had been necessary in the past. In time, Adar and the uruk might learn that they didn’t have to posture and push themselves beyond their capabilities to survive, but that would certainly take more than a decade.

As Celebrimbor pondered this, he began to hear steps approach their quarters. The elf perked up, put the book aside – Rúmil, which both Elrond and Adar had recommended to him and which Celebrimbor tried his best to enjoy, but found he simply could not, no matter how hard he tried – and sat up higher in bed.

He’d recognize these steps anywhere; Adar still wore his armor when he made his rounds, and his steps were usually slow and heavy, chainmail clicking as he walked.

The uruk was faster than usual, and his steps sounded slightly…off. In a way Celebrimbor couldn’t quite explain.

The reason for this soon became clear, as the door to their shared quarters was being pushed open and Adar entered. After a brief moment of standing in the open door, the uruk walked over to their shared bedroom, where he again came to a standstill after taking just one step inside.

Celebrimbor felt his eyebrows rise so high they threatened to disappear into his hairline, and was quite sure he had to look utterly flabbergasted as he beheld Adar.

The Lord Father of the uruk wasn’t just wet. He was drenched. Water was dripping out of his hair, down his face, out of his chainmail and from his tunic. His steps had sounded differently because his boots were waterlogged and squished as he took each step, dragging water everywhere.

The elf was ready to ask if the other had fallen into the Glanduin, right when a lightning strike outside made him jump and turn his head towards the windows. He’d been so immersed in his thoughts, and picking apart all the ways in which he disliked Rúmil’s poetry, that it seemed he hadn’t realized that it had begun to rain in earnest.

Not a light spray, either. No, it was pouring, raindrops seemingly huge and incredibly loud on the windowpanes, and coming so fast and in such numbers that Celebrimbor couldn’t tell apart individual drops no matter how hard he tried.

He turned his widened eyes back onto Adar, who still remained standing in the door. He looked slightly paler than usual, and wore a grim expression.

“Apologies,” the other spoke into the silence of the bedroom. “I got held up as I tried to make my way back to you.”

“By Eru,” Celebrimbor replied, and clutched at the covers, “What happened to you?” He found himself worried. Elves and uruk were far less likely to fall sick than most other peoples of Middle-earth, but with the way Adar looked, the smith wasn’t sure if this would be enough to protect him in this instance.

He thought he could see Adar’s hand tremble as the uruk hid his naked one behind the one with the gauntlet.

The other’s answer sounded almost wry. “I think I should have left for Eregion earlier than I did. But Glug came to me with a report that he deemed urgent, and when I made to finally leave,” he lifted his chin and motioned it towards the window, “it was to this.”

Celebrimbor was almost certain that he could see Adar’s lips tremble, before he clenched his jaw and hid any motion behind a stoic expression.

The elf blinked as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I- You look like you got caught in a flooding,” was the best he could come up with. He was tempted to get up and out of bed, but when he moved to do so, Adar held up a hand and bid him to remain seated. Considering that the air that hit the elf’s skin was far more chilly than he had anticipated, he was quick to follow the uruk’s motion.

The yearning to help the other somehow remained nonetheless. “Is there anything I can do?”

Adar shook his head. “I am afraid not. Let me just- get these off,” he indicated his armor and clothes, “And hang them in front of the fireplace.”

He lifted a foot to go and walk, only to pause at the sound of wet leather and the way water dripped from his boot as he did. He exhaled a breath and added, “And maybe find something to dry myself with, before I join you.”

Celebrimbor nodded, “There’s um- there should be some towels you can use. From when I took a bath some hours ago.” It was the best he could offer. He’d selfishly decided against putting yet another log into the fireplace earlier to stay in bed, snug and warm, and Adar had often insisted that he did not need for Celebrimbor to prepare his night clothes for him, preferring to choose himself as he came to bed each night.

“I got your blanket underneath my own. So that will at least be warm, once you return,” the elf offered, and felt a bit of tension ease from his body as Adar turned back towards him over his shoulder and gave him a small, grateful smile in response. The elf couldn’t help but return it with one of his own.

“That is much appreciated, Tyelpe. Thank you,” the uruk said, voice soft, before he visibly tore himself away and strode back in the direction of the fireplace. Soon, noises of chainmail rattling, metal clanking and wet fabric being stripped from damp skin could be heard. Adar even took time to squeeze out his long hair, by the sound of it.

The servants would surely scold the two of them something fierce come morning, but Celebrimbor didn’t care in the least. He reached over, and hugged Adar’s pillow to himself to warm that up, too, as he looked for anything else that might help the other fight off the chill once he came to bed.

He was fairly certain he’d seen the other shiver already, as well as Adar’s attempts to hide it. The elf had no doubt the other had lost much body heat in the rain, and knowing how utterly miserable that could be, he wanted to try and help the other reclaim it – and quickly.

The smith knew that elves were naturally more resistant to illness than most other peoples of Middle-earth, and that the uruk also were rather hardy, but he had no idea whether or not it was to same degree his own people. Adar was more prone to pruning in water than him, and he also left footprints in the snow and the mud to a much higher degree than Celebrimbor and the other elves did, for example.

There was no telling what Morgoth’s and Sauron’s foul magic had wrought, and Celebrimbor wasn’t terribly keen to find out whether or not Adar might be able to get gravely ill from running around being wet and cold from the rain.

The smith tried to peek through the opened door and into the rest of their shared quarters, but due to the relative dimness, he could only see Adar’s silhouette, standing close to the fireplace as he seemed to dry himself with the towels that Celebrimbor had used earlier that day.

Illuminated by the orange glow of the embers, and the faint light of one or two candles that still burned, the uruk cut a striking figure as he moved. Despite being quick and efficient, Celebrimbor had…a few things to look at.

He couldn’t find any enjoyment in doing so, however, since he could clearly make out that Adar’s hands were shaking now, and how his whole body seemed to twitch with tremors that he did his best to fight down.

The uruk also kept the towels tightly wrapped around himself as he came back into their bedroom; he was seemingly doing his best to remain composed, but it was obvious to Celebrimbor – who saw Adar everyday and was used to his more slow, measured, even movements – that the other was more hurried than he usually was.

The handle to his wardrobe slipped out of his fingers once, causing Adar to curse under his breath, before he pulled the heavy door open and blindly reached inside, quick to draw out a set of smallclothes and a thicker nightshirt. He was so quick to pull it on that he almost got tangled in the garment.

“I can help you,” Celebrimbor offered, and motioned Adar to come over. The uruk briefly halted, his pride warring with his need for warmth, before he walked over to the bed. He didn’t even close the door to the wardrobe.

The elf was by now convinced that Adar was actually freezing, even if he did a formidable attempt at hiding it from him. Celebrimbor reached out and untangled the fabric, then helped to pull the garment over Adar’s head and down his arms.

As Adar looked up and Celebrimbor moved to gather the other’s long, dark hair and move it out of his collar, he saw with a surge of worry that the uruk’s lips had turned a slightly purplish color. He’d seen similarly on the men if they got too cold, though their lips went blue; he supposed it might be due to Adar’ black blood that his looked differently.

And then he startled as his fingers touched Adar’s skin.

“By Eru. You’re cold as ice!” He exclaimed. His body wanted nothing more than to recoil, the other’s temperature so low it seemed to suck the warmth out of his fingertips, but Celebrimbor’s concern pushed him to ignore his instincts and reach out again.

The difference between the elf’s and the uruk’s body heat felt like a shock to the smith, and even Adar twitched at the touch to his shoulders, and drew in a small hiss, though he was quick to grasp Celebrimbor’s hand as the elf hesitated in response to his noise. The uruk’s fingers, too, were chilled.

“I suppose the metal leeched much warmth out of me,” the uruk pondered, and visibly tipped towards the elf before he caught himself and slightly drew back again.

The movement reminded the Lord of Eregion that he still had the other’s pillow and covers, and was quick to relinquish both, putting down the pillow and then drawing back his own blankets to hand over the uruk’s.

Adar had already begun to draw the nightshirt over his legs, and gladly reached over to take the blankets to cover himself. He nodded at Celebrimbor in gratitude, only the movement was jerkier than usual.

With how cold the other’s hands had been, it stood to reason that moving the heavy covers was difficult for Adar, perhaps even painful, and so the smith quickly reached over to help him.

It was then, as the uruk wrapped himself up, that his attempts to hide his shivering failed him; his teeth began to chatter despite the way he clenched his jaw, hands shaking before he managed to hide them. The rest of his body followed quickly. Celebrimbor tried to ignore it even as he tucked Adar in and pulled back his dark, damp hair so he wouldn’t lay on it.

Within a few moments, Adar was tightly wound in the covers, with only his eyes poking out. Celebrimbor would have found it cute, if he wasn’t so concerned about the uruk.

He gave up one of his own throw blankets from the end of the bed and draped it on top of Adar’s as well, then moved to lay down, turned onto his side and drew his own covers up to his own chin. The elf soon lay face to face with Adar, and watched in his cocoon of blankets.

“T-thank-k y-y-ou, T-t-tyelpe,” the other tried, but soon clamped his lips shut again.

“Of course, Beloved,” the smith replied, frowning. He bit his lip and pondered on what to do; he could get up and try to put some more logs into the fireplace, but even if he managed to reignite the fire, it would take some time until its warmth spread to their bedroom, and he himself would likely be freezing as well by the time it did.

Two cold fingers below his mouth drew his attention; Adar was looking intently at him as he gently, but insistently, pulled Celebrimbor’s lower lip out from between his own teeth. “Y-you will r-regret that l-l-later,” he breathed, body still jerking involuntarily from the cold.

At least these movements meant the other was slowly beginning to warm up, as the elf had learned. “D-do not w-w-worry on m-my behalf.”

Celebrimbor gave him a lopsided, wry grin, and caught Adar’s hand between his own, warming his ice-cold digits between his palms. “I can’t help it. It pains me to see you so unwell.”

“I-it will only t-take an-n-nother m-m-moment,” Adar tried to reassure him, but also reached out with his other hand, both of which the elf soon held clasped in his own. He brought them to his lips and breathed onto them.

Again, Adar hissed. At the smith’s worried look, he explained, “Y-your breath is v-very hot on my c-c-cold skin, i-is all. P-please d-d-don’t stop.”

Celebrimbor was quick to nod, and continued to blow warm air onto the uruk’s chilled fingers. Again, he was torn, with his body insisting on keeping his hard-won warmth and comfort for itself, while his heart ached to share it with the other – even if Celebrimbor knew that he, too, would make noises of discomfort if he did, at the very least. Just Adar’s hands alone caused a shiver to run down his own spine.

But the other was still shaking, and the elf wouldn’t – couldn’t – see him be so miserable.

“Come closer,” he insisted, and reluctantly moved one hand to lift the edge of his blanket to make his point. “It’s warmer below my covers, and I can share my body heat with you this way.”

Adar immediately made to argue, in response to which Celebrimbor stared at the uruk with a frown and cut in, “No arguments. I will find no sleep seeing you like this,” and because he couldn’t help it, he added with a quirk of his lips, “And even if I could, your teeth chattering would surely keep me awake anyways.”

Adar snorted in response, but there was a faint hint of smile on his face as well. He hesitated for only a moment, and did not insist on asking Celebrimbor if he truly was sure, as he usually would have done. Another indication of how uncomfortable he had to be.

The uruk was slow to move at first, reluctant to give up what little warmth he’d managed to accumulate, but then he fastened his movements, sliding across the small distance between them as Celebrimbor lifted up the edge of his blanket further up and opened his arms, cool night air making him shiver. Adar gladly followed his invitation, only sparing a moment to drag over his own covers and half-pull them over the elf’s.

If the night air had already brought an unwelcome chill to Celebrimbor’s skin, it paled in comparison to the shock that Adar’s freezingly cold body turned out to be. It felt as if being hugged by winter itself as the uruk wound arms around his middle and moved in close, his large hands two distinctly cold points on Celebrimbor’s hips that made his stomach muscles tense when Adar slipped them under the elf’s nightshirt.

Soon, they were chest to chest with one another, yet more cool skin touching Celebrimbor’s own as Adar pressed his nose to the elf’s neck and also, finally, lifted one of his legs to throw it over the Celebrimbor’s hips and entangled their legs.

The elf had clenched his jaw with a groan as Adar moved in close, but otherwise had managed to bear it despite the way his own body began to shiver at the physical contact.

He did, however, end up cursing – and rather loudly, too – as the uruk tucked in his feet and set them onto the smith’s shins.

“A-are you sure you didn’t fall into the Glanduin after all?” Celebrimbor finally asked, once he’d managed to regain his voice. His words came out unusually high-pitched and sounding like a whine.

And yet, he still lifted his arms and wrapped them around Adar’s middle and shoulders in turn, drew other even closer towards himself. They were both shivering by now, and the elf blindly reached to try and spread all their blankets over them both in the faint hope that they might warm up again faster this way.

“Y-yes, I am,” the other replied. He was clinging to Tyelpe, desperately chasing his warmth. “B-but this is almost as dire, it s-seems.”

They both miserably remained this way for a while, wrapped around each other and waiting for feeling to return to their limbs. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to take terribly long until Adar stopped shaking quite so badly. His teeth soon stopped chattering as well, and while he remained burrowed into Celebrimbor’s chest and neck, his grip eventually slackened a little, too.

The elf counted it as a victory, even with how uncomfortable Adar’s feet on his shins remained. “Better?” he gently asked.

The other slowly nodded into his neck, and brushed a kiss against the skin. Celebrimbor would have liked to claim that the resulting shiver was from something other than the cold, but sadly, that would have been a lie. “Y-yes.”

“Good,” the elf replied, and buried his own nose in Adar’s hair; it was slowly drying as well, which was a relief. “I hope you are prepared to act as my pillow for the rest of the night, and the nights to come. Those cold feet of yours could be used as torture devices.”

A small chuckle came from Adar, and he rubbed his thumbs over Celebrimbor’s hips. “Well, serves you right. Now you know how I feel most nights.”

The elf leant back with an offended noise and peered down at the crown of Adar’s head with an incredulous expression. The uruk willingly reliniquished his place from where he was tucked into the smith’s neck to look back at him. The grin he wore made Celebrimbor reach out and very lightly pinch the uruk’s nose as he glared balefully at him. “Very funny. So this is the thanks I get for being a concerned partner.”

Adar’s grin turned into a smile, then, soft and fond. His whole expression softened, in fact, which made him look incredibly – and unfairly – attractive, in Celebrimbor’s opinion. “No. This is,” the uruk said, then leaned up and gently kissed the smith’s lips.

Who let his eyes slip closed as he leaned into the touch with a small hum, ever unable to resist the other’s affections. It was merely a press of lips, nothing particularly deep or passionate, but it conveyed Adar’s thanks easily and clearly with how close he pressed, the small sigh of relief as their lips touched.

It made Celebrimbor tighten his hold on Adar and draw the other a bit further up as he kept him close, while the uruk angled his head into a more comfortable position and cupped the back of his Celebrimbor’s head, gentle fingers rubbing at his scalp in just the way the elf enjoyed best.

When they eventually parted, Adar didn’t move far, but instead brought their noses close to softly rub them against each other. “Was that adequate?” he teased, lightly. Celebrimbor noted that his teeth had fully stopped chattering by now, and only mild tremors shook his body from time to time.

He smiled at Adar with just a hint of mischief. “Hm. Perhaps as partial pay. I’d like to have another one, just to be sure,” he said, so soft it was almost a whisper, and brushed his mouth against the uruk’s, who opened his own and tipped his head further up to bring the two of them together once more.

“That can be arranged,” he said, voice rumbling, and then they were kissing again.

It took quite a bit of time until they felt warm enough to be truly comfortable, but gradually, they did. The elf noticed it in how Adar eventually fully relaxed into the bed, and how he himself forgot about where the uruk’s feet were, and rather focused on the comfortable weight of his leg slung over his own hip, the way the other’s breath was an even, calming lull as he lay in Celebrimbor’s arms.

He was pleasantly sleepy by the time Adar hummed and pecked Celebrimbor’s lips once more, before he asked, “Do you want to change positions? You asked for me to act as your pillow, after all.”

“Hm-hm,” the smith confirmed, and gladly let the other be the one to shift the two of them around this time, until Adar lay on his back and had Celebrimbor tucked into his side, with his head on Adar’s chest, where the elf slung an arm over his hip. The uruk’s own arm similarly snuck over the elf’s shoulder, with his hand finding its place on Celebrimbor’s nape.

“This is nice,” the smith confirmed, his words mumbled and yet, he was certain Adar make out what he said.

It was the uruk’s turn to kiss the top of his head, hand once again buried in the elf’s locks. “Sleep, if you can, Tyelpe,” he said, voice quiet. “And thank you again.”

“Always,” Celebrimbor replied, though he was so tired he was barely aware of it. Now that they were warm and he was so comfortable, with Adar’s heartbeat beneath his ear, he was quickly falling into slumber. “Love you.”

“I love you too…Beloved,” Adar replied. It was the last thing Celebrimbor heard before he fell asleep, the other following soon after, both of them warm and comfortable, wrapped around each other in their bed as the storm continued to rage outside, unable to reach them for the rest of the night.

#I am aware the elves are impervious to cold in the canon materials but for the sake of this little piece I am going to ignore it #the idea of the uruk being heat-resistant but not cold-resistant came to me due to S2E1 #with my idea being that the Sauron-ice-splosion was his last attempt to spite and harm the uruk before he 'died'#plus Sauron is heavily associated with fire and the uruk settle in Mordor with an active volcano nearby #I originally considered making this part of my longfic verse (Of Convenience) but decided against it. I love playing with new ideas too muc #(this piece could however be considered a companion piece to A Quiet Morning in Eregion aka my fic for TropFluffWeek2025)#cozy cuddle week 2025 #cozy cuddle week #mine #my trop fanfic #adar #adar trop #adar the rings of power #celebrimbor #adar x celebrimbor #silverscars #trop #the rings of power #my fanfic #fanfic

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yuukskillsworld · 3 days ago

Note

Ronin w a nerdy and/or geeky (i don’t know the difference between them, sorry—) reader, who somehow turns everything into a reference? I feel like he’d start picking up on the jokes lol

Love ur writing btw !!!

"Reference Point" - Ronin x Nerdy!Reader

Shoutout to the absolute legend who requested this—Ronin falling for a reference-making nerd? Obsessed. Hope you enjoy, sweetie.<3

Genre: Fluff with some romantic tension

Word count: ~1,200

written by yuukskillsworld<3

WARNINGS: Mild suggestive humor, canon-typical mentions of violence (very subtle, no action or gore), swearing (mild — e.g., “hell”), Ronin being dangerously charming (yes, that counts)

Ronin wasn’t a man of many words—he didn’t need to be. Silence suited him better. It was useful, threatening when it needed to be, and seductive when he wanted it to be. Most people were unnerved by it.

Not you.

“Did you just Batman your way in here again?” you asked, barely looking up from your manga. “You’re like... one smoke bomb away from a full Gotham entrance.”

He leaned against the doorframe of your cluttered safehouse room, arms crossed over his chest. The flickering neon light from your anime posters painted pink and green lines over his scarred jaw. “If I knew what the hell that meant, Darlin’, maybe I’d be flattered.”

You grinned and tossed the volume aside. “I’ll take that as permission to explain. Batman. The guy who just appears and vanishes. Broody. Wears black. Daddy issues.”

Ronin chuckled, low and almost fond. “That you callin’ me broody?”

“I'm calling you a whole Christopher Nolan trilogy.”

He didn’t respond right away—just stepped in, slow like the air itself bent around him. You didn’t flinch when he reached out and plucked a Captain Levi keychain off your desk. Spun it between two fingers. His eyes narrowed. “This one reminds me of you. All short, snappy, and full of attitude.”

“Oh my God,” you gasped. “You know who Levi is.”

He gave a smug little shrug. “Picked it up. You don’t shut up about ‘em.”

You blinked. “...You listen?”

“I remember what matters.” He leaned in slightly. “And you always talk about the things you love like you’d die for ‘em. Gets my attention.”

Your heart stuttered. He was too good at that—getting under your skin without even trying. So you covered it with sarcasm, like always. “So what, next thing I know, you’ll be quoting Lord of the Rings mid-fight?”

“If I do, I expect a kiss for effort.”

“Ronin!”

“What?” he laughed. “Seems fair. I dive through blades for you and mutter somethin’ about walkin’ into Mordor—boom. Kiss.”

“You are Mordor,” you mumbled, turning away to hide the flush.

He stepped closer. Too close. “Then does that make you the hobbit, Darlin’? Always talkin’, stubborn as hell, and somehow surviving stuff you shouldn’t?”

You gave a lopsided smile. “You have been paying attention.”

“Told you. Couldn’t ignore you if I tried.” His voice dropped, silk and smoke. “You make the world louder, brighter. Hell, half the time I don’t know what you’re referencing, but I still find myself smilin’.”

Silence stretched between you, warm and almost fragile.

“...You gonna kiss me now or what?” he asked, eyes sharp but lips tilted.

You grinned, stepping up till your nose almost bumped his. “Only if you say ‘this is the way.’”

His groan was half-laugh, half-exasperated, but he leaned down anyway.

“This is the way, Darlin’.”

Thanks for the killer idea, sweet thing. Ronin approves—and so do I.

I hope that I fulfilled your request, dear! <3

Credits:

-> dividers: @dollywons

-> photo: Pinterest

#ronin x reader #killerchat #ronin beaufort #killer chat x reader #ronin #killer chat ronin beaufort

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aplatypusshapedkite · 4 months ago

Text

Whumpuary January 5: Do you trust me

Context/ Au under cut

Context

This is for an Au made by me and @paradoxlemonade a long while ago.

Red leader is not ‘our’ Tord, he's a clone that managed to escape during Spares. Tord left to go back to college but gets kidnaped by the clone to design weapons for the army. Clone! Tord was more than capable of doing it himself–getting the original was merely a time saver. During an attack by the Resistance he manages to escape unseen. He cuts and dyes his hair darker like he had during his early twenties in a gas station bathroom to avoid anyone looking at him too closely.

He finds his friends and tries to explain what happened.They have no reason to believe Tord. Tom does not believe him and openly despises him. Matt and Edd really want to believe him. Matt voices this, but Edd does not and cannot. He is the resistance leader. If he makes the wrong call, the results will be devastating and deadly. Tord tries to prove his story by helping with pointing weak points and creating counter measures. The resistance had bodies but not a lot of power or training. Tord can give them firepower which in turn buys them time.

Edd eventually plans a full-on assault on the Red Army’s main stronghold. Its risky but he’s out of time and soon resources. Tord knows that it will probably end the Resistance if this goes as planned. Tord comes up with a plan-Taking out the Red Leader. Any fingerprint scanners, password deduction, retinal scans—if Red Leader is in the system, then Tord can get in. Its a suicide mission but its the best chance they’ve got. No one trusts him enough for him to put his plan into motion, all except for Matt.

Matt is the only one who believes that he’s on their side and can get him the tools he needs. Matt also trust’s Tom and Edd’s judgment. He has to make a choice.

Matt arms Tord and breaks him out of the resistance compound, driving him to a drop location near the Red Army’s main stronghold. If Tord was telling the truth, he would drive away safely. If not, he will be dead before the sun sets.

He drives away safely. No turning back now.

Edd and Tom are pissed when Matts returns without Tord, but the plans for their assault on the compound are already in motion and they can’t afford infighting. If the mission succeeds, they will deal a heavy blow to the Red Army. If not, well, at least they won’t be alive to regret it.

They arrive to the base already in chaos. It’s still wasn’t an easy battle, but it’s a steamroll compared to previous fights. They breach the inner sanctum. They find two corpses–Red Leader and Tord. Tord gave his life to take him out. With the Red Army’s power so centralized, it struggles to regroup after this massive blow and is pushed back by the resistance before falling. They won. They know what it cost them.

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autumnfangirler · 13 days ago

Note

Late delivery by request! I've got a question for you:

Where did your Sidestep get your name? Do they know what it means? Do they feel any particular way about their name?

Looking forward to your answer!

-Cigarettes

hello!! thank you for indulging my request dhsjdj, my little treat for myself :]

Caine:

they yoinked it from somebodys mind while trying to come up with names for themeself. who the person was referring to or why, they dont know nor care about. he hasnt taken a secondary look into what it meant. theyve always considered their real spoken name to be spot anyway, after his regene name. caine grew on him once people started tying more significance to it, but spot will always be more him. thats the name he first gave ortega (before realizing thats not a normal name and panicking), and thats the name ortega still calls them. he misses seeing his signed regene name though, thats his actual name (to himself at least).

Cyrus:

im ngl, i originally wrote out a completely different answer for him and was going to go with that before coming up with this one and realizing its way more true to him. so! cyrus got help with his name from anathema. i might draw this out as a comic one day, but basically, cyrus admitted to anathema he didnt like his name. anathema already had suspicions he was trans by this point, but cyrus officially came out to him when he picked up on anathemas suspicions and realized it was a good cover story for not having a name. they spent a while going back and forth on names, and eventually picked one he liked. cyrus knows the meaning behind it, anathema actually nicknamed him sunny because of it. he had a keychain of a crocheted sun on his person too when he was acting as a civilian (hes probably been caught with it as a hero multiple times when the emergency was too urgent to change). pre-heartbreak, having a name people cared enough to call on made him feel at home. post, though, it feels like a scab people wont leave alone.

Cecilia:

fun fact about this, ortega actually saw her face Before finding out her name. she already had a name in mind (i mean, obviously she was going to tell them eventually, thats a given), but since there was No way ortega was going to leave her alone about it after that, she figured she might as well take the chance to fuck with him. she had him guessing names for about a week before relenting. theres no Real meaning behind it as far as she or i know, its just a common enough name that she likes the sound of. as for what she feels about her name, she likes it a lot. its something uniquely hers that she got to pick out, and she still got to keep it after heartbreak. she likes it a lot better than her regene name, thats for sure.

Cynthia:

im gonna be so real rn, looking at this question and thinking about How cynthia would pick her name, made me realize she wouldnt pick cynthia for herself in the slightest. im. probably going to have to rerun her with a new name once i figure out something she Would name herself, but were sticking with cynthia for now adhsjsjd. cynthia wanted significance to it; it was her first chance at a new life, and she wanted something that felt would describe her. something that would break her off from the life at the farm. she researched meanings for it and picked one she was satisfied with. i looked it up, the name cynthia has strong associations with the moon. honestly very fitting for her, but shed think the name was too,,, pretty. she doesnt feel like something that nice would represent her. im not sure what shed gravitate towards, proobably something meaning new? or something pertaining to the human anatomy, well see. either way, as it stands now, her name is another piece of an identity she doesnt know anymore.

#i fear that #as much significance as caines regene name holds to him #i have No idea what their full regene name is 😔#which is true for all my steps tbh #ngl i might write out that fic of ortega seeing cecis face for the first time it is Very fun #would probably be kept to like 3 paragraphs or smth though because otherwise its gonna be left to rot like all my other fics lmfao #thank you cigs for asking this question and making me have a crisis on a character ive had for at least a year now/lh #im gonna have to redo my tags for her too when i figure out her name #honestly though im kinda glad i realized this #cynthias always been the most difficult for me to pin down identity wise #so figuring out this small tidbit of information feels like uncovering something new abt her #anyway #thank you again for sending in this ask! this was a bunch of fun to think about :]#caine lynzal #cyrus becker #cecilia rider #cynthia garcia #sidestep #fhr #pulp answers

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llondonfog · 4 months ago

Note

Had to wait until I got home to compile the emoji responses bc I knew there would be MANY... I loooove reading through your writing, your brain is so big and wrinkly and I'm so sad when I can't find the words to respond most of the time 😭

#lettie's asks #THIS IS SHAMEFUL THAT I'M ANSWERING THIS SO LATE WHEN YOU LEFT SUCH SWEET COMMENTS #i genuinely want to fling myself into bed and sob from gratitude bc this means so much??#i know it's silly but i love writing for these dumb boys #i love it so much it gives me stupid joy #and to know that my silly plots and ideas are equally enjoyed and that you all find delight in them #is the most ridiculously humbling thing in the world #thank you <333 #i cherish my writing style a lot even though this past year i doubted myself and was really down on it for a while #and it just means so much to me aaaaaaaaaaaaaa #things to carry into the new year <3

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moyazaika · 14 days ago

Text

housewife syndrome

yandere! rockstar x fem! reader

cw; possessive + obsessive behaviour, severe mental instability, paranoia, anxiety, violence, heavy nsfw themes, mdni 18+

genie's notes; commissioned piece by a very sweet anon ♡ thank you so much for trusting me with this absolutely stunning idea. i’ve always been a fan of domestic horror, especially of the spiralling housewife variety, so it was fun to explore a new dynamic and fresh writing style. <3

"welcome home, sweetheart!" the television runs on low volume in the background as you greet your husband with a knowing smile. you run through the motions as you always do, make sure to ask with the most innocence you can muster, "how was your day?"

feroze can make out the sound of gallant applause that indicates you'd been watching reruns of last night's award ceremony.

"such a fucking drag." your husband pulls you into his arms, buries his head into the crook of your neck with a long, satisfied sigh and takes his sweet, sweet time to breathe you in. "couldn't fucking wait to come home to you, meri jaan."

his answer remains the same as it is every other day, and you can't help but smile against his lips when he pulls you in to steal a little kiss; you sigh into his mouth, and feroze is so fucking overwhelmed by gratitude for the familiarity and comfort of this little routine the two of you have seemed to settle down into so well.

"i love when you call me that," you confess; my life.

you know just as well as him that, well—it wasn't always this easy.

"yeah," feroze hums. "i know you do, baby."

you weren't always so lovely for him, were you?

you're quiet.

though the two of you are sitting across from each other at the dining table, your attention is clearly elsewhere. conversation is slow, if not stagnant. it's a far cry from how talkative you usually are; and though he would never fucking admit it, least of all to you, he worries, for a fraction of a second, that things are slipping.

"meri jaan?" he sets down his fork very carefully, reaches for your hands over the table.

you blink, pulled away from wherever you'd been lost in your mind and back down to this moment that stretches on before you.

"oh, sorry, my love. what was that?"

feroze watches your eyes quietly track the movement of his fingers, sliding over your wrists, lingering, momentarily, on your pulse—nice and steady—before they intertwine with your own.

your gaze lands on him, then, expectant. he drags his thumb over your knuckles, glad to find they're soft; unmarred by any labour. he loves having you here, tucked away within the walls of this home he built just for you, away from the rest of the rotten world.

such a darling girl like you deserves to have everything taken care of for you. as far as he's concerned, the only thing on your mind should be him.

which is why the silence is beginning to irritate him, now. he's not really upset with you, doesn't have a reason to be, just yet—he's just wondering what it is you're so focused on. where do you keep going back to in that head of yours, and why aren't you here with him?

is this where it all falls apart?

—again?

"rosy?" you try. "is everything alright?"

"yeah," feroze's hazel eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, endearingly patient. "i just wanted to know how your day was."

"ugh, don't remind me." you stick your tongue out. "it was so boring. i woke up so late today and didn't really do anything interesting."

"shit, i'm sorry to hear that, baby."

your husband nods towards the television, still playing from inside the living room across the hall; the screen's bright colours reflect against the glass windows that take up half the wall. though the program is muted, he can still hear the echoes from the cacophony of applause ringing loud and true.

the four hour program's been running on loop on some of the smaller channels, and you really seem to enjoy tuning in, he's noticed.

it would be more difficult not to notice this new habit of yours, really. because if he's been counting right, this is the seventh time you've seen the whole thing through to the end.

"seems like you were at least watching the music thing again."

"well, when my stunning husband won half of the awards," you shrug coyly. "how could i not?"

"flattery won't get you anywhere," feroze deigns, though neither of you mention the involuntary curl to his lips as they lift into a small, self-satisfied smile.

"huh, that's strange," you frown, pull your hands away from his own and make a show of examining the elaborately stacked engagement ring and marital band wrapped around your finger. "if i seem to remember correctly, flattery is exactly what got me this ring."

"oh," he laughs. "is that so?"

"uhuh," you nod, still admiring the rings. they're big and they're flashy and there's no fucking chance anyone could ever miss the sight of them; make the mistake of misunderstanding what they mean. you're so obviously his, and fuck, it suits you so perfectly to belong to him.

i love you, he thinks fiercely. i fucking love you.

"you've got an ego, rosy." your knowing gaze flickers back to him, accompanied by a teasing smile. "bit of a praise kink, too."

"and yet, darling wife," he'll never tire of calling you that; never really overcome the thrill that overwhelms him when he sees you adorned in the markers of his devotion and tucked away all safe and sound. "you're the only person whose words mean anything to me."

"ohh, is that so?" you taunt, "whatever happened to 'flattery won't get you anywhere?'"

feroze takes in the sight of you. you're dressed casual, donned in a baggy old shirt and a pair of his softest sweats hanging low off your hips. comfortable in your own home, as you should fucking feel, you have no makeup on, and your hair is unkempt; overdue for a shower; but fuck if he cares.

feroze decides, within a moment, that he needs you—

now.

"come here, meri jaan. i'll show you."

"you greedy, greedy man," you chastise lightly, rising from your seat. "i've just fed you dinner and you're still salivating at my table."

feroze watches you make the small effort of pushing your chair in, before turning on your heel. you pause in the doorway for a second, spare him a knowing glance over your shoulder; "well? aren't you hungry, darling husband?"

he knows that none of it evades you; the nervous bob of his adam's apple as he swallows. the way his fingers are digging into the edge of the table to keep from sinking inside of you right here. his heart is racing; his pants are tight. though you're so willing to be his now, he remembers it wasn't always this easy.

"my love." feroze grits out, "i'm fucking starving."

you disappear into the hallway, mellifluous laughter like the loveliest song, echoing off the walls—inside of his head, for fuck's sake—as your husband follows faithfully behind you when you lead him into the bedroom.

dinner goes cold on the table. you never touched your plate.

upstairs, minutes later, your husband bottoms out inside of the welcoming warmth of your sweet cunt, just as your fingers brush against the butcher's knife tucked right underneath your pillow.

feroze gets you to come twice before he decides he has his fill. he's rummaging through your nightstand for the contraceptives he knows you keep in there. it's got less to do with what he wants and more to do with what he believes is best for the two of you.

it's not that he doesn't want children; he dreams of them often. a little baby swaddled in the softest fabrics, wrapping its entire hand around just one of his fingers. the sound of a second pair of footsteps excitedly running down the hall every time he comes home from the studio, from tour. something more to take care of. to keep you busy.

but your husband knows you.

and though he's always been selfish, he can't risk kids until—well, until he knows you won't try to kill them.

it's taken you years to accept him. he won't undo that.

feroze, so caught up in his thoughts, only really registers the blade until it's slicing into his skin, the sharp edge of it pressing against the side of his neck with just enough pressure to draw blood.

he is disappointed, though by no means surprised, to find you on the other end wielding the knife.

he turns to face you, abandoning his search. you're holding onto the hilt of your makeshift weapon with trembling hands, and though he's suddenly overcome by exhaustion—because, baby, how many more times are you going to pull this—an involuntary shiver runs down his spine at the sight nonetheless.

"jaan," he tries to reason with you in hushed tones; oh, love. "what are you doing?"

you dig the knife in just a little deeper, and he winces; "i hate you, feroze." the words sting, though the relative lack of conviction they’re laced with serves as a promising sign of reconciliation.

"i know, baby. can you please just put the knife down so we can talk like adults?"

he glimpses the almost imperceptible change immediately.

the lines of hesitation on your face; a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. when your hold on the weapon looses just the tiniest fraction of an inch, he wastes no time in gently but firmly prying the knife from out of your trembling hands; tosses it underneath the bed where it lands out of your reach.

he’s getting better at this. gets through to you so much sooner than he used to.

you’re listening, now, aren’t you?

the thought of it makes him oddly proud.

"there we go," feroze says. you're still shaking, and though he wants so fucking desperately to pull you closer and console you—he's learnt to tread the waters carefully in times like these. you're evidently scared. obviously upset with him. he can give you a little room to breathe. “now do you want to use your words and talk to me properly?”

“i keep rewatching the awards show. every other winner had someone there with them. some girlfriend or wife they kissed before they went on stage. you’re the only one who—” you swallow, voice wavering. “i’m the only one who wasn’t there. i’m the only one who’s kept hidden away.”

“you don’t want to show me off.” the tears fall almost immediately. “you’re ashamed of me.”

there are millions of words in the english language, and millions more in his own. he’s put into words every fleeting feeling you’ve made him feel; spun both the most magnificent and mundane of emotions into beautiful songs and compelling lyrics and composed entire albums from nothing—and yet, somehow, in this moment all of it evades him.

"i spend all day stuck here w-waiting for you to come home, and when you do—i keep thinking about all those ceremonies and galas and parties you go to, rooms i can never follow you into—and i hate you. i hate you for how much you hate me—”

“i’m sorry,” feroze’s hands run up your spine, to lightly curl his fingers around the back of your neck. he tilts your head up so that you’re meeting his gaze; leaves you nowhere to look away, “meri jaan.”

his touch is so soft and so, so cold against your skin. you've always run warmer than him; but he thinks you might be burning up right now. maybe you've got a fever; or maybe you're just this delirious even without one. it doesn't fucking matter, doesn't change anything.

“i’m sorry for ever leaving you alone long enough to even think that. let me make it up to you. let me show you how much i adore you. let me build you back up again.”

“you can’t fix this,” you whisper.

he smiles, but it’s strange; doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “so you said the last time.”

hours later, you’re less of a sobbing wreck when he’s got you perched in his lap, and all curled up under his chin. “okay… then…” you sniff. your words are somewhat muffled as you bury your face into your husband’s chest. “i’m sorry, too. i didn’t mean to hurt you, rosy. i was just scared, i-i promise.”

"i know.” his knuckles wipe away the tears drying on your cheeks. “give me a kiss, please.”

and ever the sweet wife, you do; but your lips are trembling.

fuck, that’s—

shit.

—not going to work, is it?

with a gentle but firm hand, he pushes you down onto the bed and watches you land on your back amidst the dozens of pillows that decorate the bed. even then, the softest thing here is you. he forgets that, sometimes. let this be a lesson, he thinks to himself, to keep your fragility in mind. this is only further proof that you need him more than he'd even realised.

but you picked the right man, didn’t you? because none of that scares him.

the two of you have faced far more difficult times together; this is just a little hiccup in your life as a married couple. some story you’ll look back on and laugh about, when you’re all better.

so when you look up at him with wide, wet eyes and ask, "its just—can you promise me you still love me one more time?”

feroze regards you closely. you’re so beautiful. so fucking perfect that it overwhelms him. sometimes, he wishes you could see yourself the way that he sees you. though he’s always believed that may just scare you; knowing how deep his devotion really runs. things are fine as they are now.

well, mostly.

he has decided that he will retire from music completely, but the two of you can broach that topic when you’re in a better headspace for it. it’s been a long time coming. work keeps the money coming in, and he wants to spoil you but—he wants you to be happy, above all. you don’t really know what you’re asking for right now, but he has every intention of giving you exactly what it is you wished for.

he can’t give in when you beg to come along with him—but he can come and hide away next to you in this little pocket of the world that solely belongs to the two of you.

"you drive me to madness, my love. nothing about this life means anything if i can’t keep you happy.”

the two of you never had a white wedding; because he wanted to honour your union the right way and celebrate you as his culture deigned. so, yes, he never got to read you any vows, but he'd like to think you've come to know him well enough to understand he doesn't necessarily need to say something so sacred out loud for it to hold true.

"do you understand? i love you," he lowers his forehead against yours. “till death does us apart.”

you put your heart in his hands one more time, looking so small, so vulnerable beneath him. "you promise?"

"i promise," he closes his eyes and revels in the soft, sweeping feeling of your lashes fluttering against his own. "always and forever, meri jaan."

feroze loves you, of this he's certain.

he also knows that you fucking terrify him.

it's a small price to pay, if it means keeping you—

besides, he thinks, reaching once more for the contraceptive pills on the nightstand.

—marriage is all about compromise, is it not?

#feroze #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #male yandere #yandere male x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x willing reader #male yandere x you #male yandere x y/n #male yandere x darling #yandere male x you #commission

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kookiestarlight · 1 month ago

Text

Lines of fate: 01 | jjk

➵ pairing: tattooist!jungkook x f. reader

➵ genre: apocalypse au, exes to lovers (?) dad!jungkook, survival, angst, smut

➵ summary: the last thing Jungkook ever imagined was an outbreak that turned the dead into the living. But even more unexpected is seeing you—an ex he’s known nothing about in the past four years—with a small child who bears a striking resemblance to himself. As Jungkook grapples with the shock and the city spirals into chaos, the two of you are thrust back together, forced to confront unresolved feelings, long-buried truths, and the horrors of the deadly virus taking over.

➵ word count: 11.9k

➵ warnings: swearing (jk says fuck way too much), graphic depictions of violence and death, blood and gore, seizures, virus and zombies ofc, brief mentions of alcohol consumption.

➵ series masterlist

➵ a/n: it’s finally here!! <3 sorry this was postponed way longer than expected, all I can say is: life :,) anyway!! posting my writing again after years on hiatus definitely feels nerve wracking lol. this idea has been in my wips for literally years so I’m so excited to finally be sharing it with you all!! I would greatly appreciate your feedback and thoughts as it is something quite different from anything I usually write (it’s definitely been a kick in the ass) it’ll also really help me stay motivated to continue writing it. thank you for all the hype and excitement you showed for this fic before it was even released cause like hello?? that’s crazy to me😭 thanks for always showing my stories love and support🫶🏻 I’ve taken inspiration from all the zombie movies and videogames I’ve ever seen and played over the years (thanks dad). I should also mention, I had a very thorough plot for this planned out and it kinda went to shit in the process of writing so we’re kind of going off vibes only and 20% of the plot I had originally planned so yeah, bare with me🤪 I also want to say, updates on this will most likely be slow, but I will try my best to get them out as fast I can for you🙏 now that that’s over, I hope you enjoy this series as much as I am enjoying writing it!! this chapter is just the very beginning <33

The autumn sun filters through the large window with an amber glow as you take a slow sip of your coffee, the warm bitterness spreading in your chest as you attempt to chase some kind of comfort. But the loud hum of the city just outside and the muffled chatter of the bustling cafe are very much a grounding reminder of where you are — and where you really wish you weren't.

Your gaze travels down to your daughter sitting on the booth beside you, her little legs swinging off the seat contentedly as she picks away at her blueberry muffin. Completely oblivious to your ongoing little inner torment. Her big eyes flicker up to meet yours, brimming with glee. Brushing a crumb off her cheek, you force a little smile for her.

Like a dull sting under your skin, you feel how little teeth of guilt gnaw away at you, not only because it’s been almost impossible to offer her a genuine smile in the past two days since you stepped foot in this dammed place, but because you simply wish you could share the same excitement as she does, and perhaps…feel more positive about this whole situation. For her.

But all you’ve been able to feel is guilt.

An incessant amount of it. Guilt and fear. Slowly brewing up inside you like some sort of poison that has had you feeling a little sick to your stomach.

”You’re spiraling again.” Hoseok pulls you out of your absentminded state, studying you over the rim of his half finished iced americano.

You blink. You often tend to forget how well he’s capable of reading you. Though you suppose that’s a skill acquired with nearly twenty years of friendship, and an unavoidable consequence of growing up constantly together, practically like siblings.

Hoseok has been the only constant in your life for as long as you can remember, like a brother to you — conjoined at the hip as his mother always used to joke. It all began when you moved next door. With your parents always working late and often times far away from home, Hoseok's home slowly became your second one — the place you spent most of your childhood and adolescence and formed some of your fondest memories. A place where you were never alone.

You do suppose it’s no surprise the years and the unbreakable bond you’ve formed have given you exceptional abilities to know when something is off with just a simple glance. But it's never less surprising.

The corners of your mouth tug upwards into a tiny smile at his words, brows pinched in a pathetic attempt to hide your truth. “I am not.”

“You are. You’re thinking too much,” he stirs the ice in his drink with the straw, eyes flicking up to meet yours again. “Which if I may remind you, is one of your fatal flaws.”

You scoff, only slightly offended as you watch him take a slow sip. Pushing your sunglasses further up your head as you lean back. “Thinking too much is not my fatal flaw.”

He’s may very likely be right about that, but of course, you’d never actually admit it.

Hoseok snorts, clearly unconvinced. His voice just above a whisper when he murmurs, “Right. Sorry. It’s definitely lying.”

Before you can argue, he leans forward to accept some crumbs of muffin Jieun is so eagerly offering him. The sight tugs at something deep in your chest, watching his expression soften to mush as he thanks her with that brightest, tender smile he only ever uses for her before he brings his attention back to you.

“If it weren’t your fatal flaw, you’d actually be enjoying that overpriced coffee and oh—, maybe being reunited with your best friend again. I haven’t even seen you in like three months.” He shakes his head in utter disappointment, sitting back with a dramatic sigh.

“Hobi, I am so thrilled to be reunited with you, truly.” You roll your eyes ever so slightly and place a hand on your heart rather sarcastically as you say it, but deep down you hope he knows you’re only half joking. No one has done for you more than what hoseok has in the time you’ve known him.

You suppose all the change has got you in a rather sentimental state. But you bury it away. Hoseok deserves a nice time out with a friend for once too. He’s seen enough of your tears.

“Yeah?” he leans in, studying you with mock concern. Though not falling for it even a bit. "That's your thrilled face? You sure about that?” You almost laugh in response, but then, he shifts, looking more serious than just seconds ago. “You know,” he pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. “For someone who finally landed a nice new job and has everything working out, you don’t look all that thrilled to me, actually. That’s all.”

You press your lips together and glance down at your coffee, suddenly the truth a little too hard to face. You should be happy. He’s right. Because things really are starting to look up for you again. Everything you’ve spent the last few months wishing for has finally become a reality. And yet, you can’t shake the fact that there’s a deep buried sense of dread that seems to be getting in the way of that, a familiar fear that's been present for years, but only intensified since you stepped foot in Seoul again.

Hoseok follows your gaze, watching you carefully, then nudges your foot under the table gently. “Come on.” He murmurs softly, eyebrows raised gently. “What is it?”

You suppose your real fatal flaw is your emotions showing up as flashy neon subtitles over your head apparently, or the fact you are simply terrible at hiding them, because Hoseok doesn't budge. He sees right through your little facade — always has. And as much as you know he is a great listener and that he genuinely cares to hear it all, always ready to give you a helping hand in any way he possibly can, you just don’t want to sound ungrateful. Not when anyone else in your position would be feeling over the moon right now.

Besides, you’ve never liked burdening him, or anyone for that matter. Never wanted to add more weight to the heavy things he already carries himself. He deals with so much of that at work already. So many problems significantly worse than your own worries. So you simply shake your head, putting on a small smile once again in hopes to appease him.

“I’m alright, Hobi. It's just…strange. Being back here. Overwhelming, I guess,” you admit, though only to half of the truth. “It’s so calm on the island. I suppose I got used to it. Everything here is just so intense. But that's all.” You cross your arms on the table as you gaze out at the busy streets. Hoping you don't sound as pathetic as you feel. Though in truth, this whole things isn't just strange. It’s all actually fucking terrifying.

In many ways it seemed like nothing here had changed since the day you left four years ago. The cityscape is as bustling as you remember – a stark contrast to the quietude and stillness of Jeju, where you had been building your new life up until now. People in suits rush back and forth and push into each other with no care, everything is always shadowed by a maze of buildings that don't seem to have an end. Cars weave through traffic like they want to crash into each other, and neon signs and billboards still flicker blindingly even in the daytime.

The fact that everything remains the same, terrifies you. The rush, the stress, the chaos. That constant hustle and bustle that seems suffocating. It wasn't the reason why you left. but it was certainly a factor that made your life here something you wanted to escape from. It feels like stepping back into the life you thought you’d left behind for good. Like stepping onto a moving treadmill, when you no longer know how to run. Not sure if you’ll ever find your place here again.

Hobi hums in understanding, and the warmth in the familiarity of his smile helps lessen the knot that's been forming in your stomach all morning. And though you've only let out a tiny portion of what's on your mind, you already feel like you can breathe with more ease.

Sometimes, it’s not so bad that he can see right through you. Because you also tend to forget he’s the only one that truly gets you, understands you when even you struggle to understand yourself, and has never once been one to judge you, no matter how small or ridiculous it may be.

“Yeah, I get it. It can be overwhelming.” He nods slowly, letting the words settle. “But if I were you, I’d be damn proud of myself.” His expression is calm and his words full of sincerity as he speaks. “You did what you had to do, and now you’re doing it again. Making more big changes. Really tough decisions, and I know that’s not easy.” He pauses. “But you've always made it after all. This time won't be different. Besides, think about this, we’re close to each other now. I’ll be here for anything you guys need, you know that.”

Your heart softens at his comforting words, and the reassurance feels like it melts some of the tension off your shoulders. And for just a split second you feel that roar of confidence, thinking about everything you've accomplished, but it's not lasting, and deflates with the weight of your heavier thoughts.

You want to believe what he says — you really do. For your daughter's sake. Because this is finally your chance to start over and build something better. To give Jieun the life she deserves, something stable, a chance to thrive in a place full of new opportunities.

A fresh start.

After all, isn't that all you've ever been chasing?

You don’t want to allow your fears and the past to come in the way of that. But it's never so simple. At least, definitely not here — definitely not for you.

Because the truth is, being in Seoul again feels like roaming a haunted city. Tainted and plagued by shadows from the past, by who you used to be, and everything and everyone you left behind all those years ago when you ran and didn’t dare to look back. Being here now, you can’t shake the feeling — the apprehension and fear that everything you once left behind is lurking around the corner, ready to jump out and haunt you, making everything you've finally built up crumble to pieces once again. This place just gives you an indescribable feeling of…dread. Eeriness even. Enough for it to linger gut deep with a painful sense of discomfort that hasn’t eased since the day you arrived. As if you can never truly let your guard down.

But after all, it was an opportunity you couldn’t pass up, even if it meant returning to the city you swore you’d never step foot in again. The offer came at just the right moment, a lifeline after months of uncertainty and dead-ends. After losing your job, and endless nights crying yourself to sleep with the heavy burden of becoming a failure of a mother and not knowing how to make ends meet. You practically cried with joy the morning you finally got the call, and ignored the pit that formed in your stomach when you heard where it required you to move to. It had felt like you were about to reach the peak of a mountain, only to drop all the way back down to the bottom. But it was a steady paycheck, and a chance to finally give Jieun some stability. It wasn’t glamorous or grand — a position in a small marketing firm. But it was enough to rebuild. The breakthrough you so badly needed to start over and secure a future for your little girl.

How could you possibly turn it down?

That was your biggest and only goal in life.

There was nothing you wouldn’t do for her. So you knew in that very instant you had to take it. Even if it meant returning to the place that broke you beyond repair. So you packed up your life and now, here you are. Back where you never thought you’d be. So far from the tranquility of the home you had made for yourself in a secluded tiny seaside town four years ago. Where you were happy. Where you didn't live in constant fear.

“I know this is what I need right now,” you speak softly, more to yourself than anything. You reach out, gently brushing your fingers through Jieun's baby soft hair, watching as she focuses intently on her muffin, completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. “I just don’t want to mess anything up…the job, you know, our new life here. I want to get this right. I don’t want anything, getting in the way of that.” You swallow thickly, fingers tightening around the mug of coffee in front of you, and Hoseok knows exactly what you mean by that. You hesitate, letting out a quiet breath before speaking again. “I know there's so many opportunities for us here but…I was happy in Jeju. Jieun was happy.”

Hoseok nods, slow and understanding. “I know you were. A city like this takes some adapting to, you know that.” He reaches out and gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “but give it time. You’ll settle right back in.” He says warmly, reassuring. You return a tiny smile, more genuine this time.

“Seriously though. Change is good. New home, new job, meeting new people…maybe even someone special…” he adds.

You scoff, eyes widening, only half incredulous at how fast he swerved the topic there. So typical of him.

“Yeah no, thanks. You can stop it right there.” You shake your head.

“What?” Hobi leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he waggles his eyebrows, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, completely unbothered despite your clear opposition. “I'm just saying,” he adds in, raising his hands in mock innocence, though he feels like your glare could actually kill him. “You’re young. You’re no longer in that tiny ass town full of old drunk married cheating men. Everyone deserves a little fun. It wouldn't kill you to-”

“Hobi,” you sigh, cringing internally at the memories of disastrous dates you told him all about over the phone. You throw a pointed look in his direction, but Hoseok just chuckles. “I’m done with all that. Seriously.”

“Come on,” he presses.

“No. No way. I told you.” You interject, tone firm, not even allowing space for the idea. “I’m a single mother, Hobi. That’s been off the cards for years. I have different priorities now.” You straighten in your seat, making a point to scoop Jieun's hair back and out of her drink. These are your priorities now.

Hoseok raises a brow, watching you carefully, but there's no judgment in his expression now — just silent understanding. He leans back in his chair again, smile dying down, tapping his fingers absently against his iced americano before his gaze drifts over to your little girl. His expression softens, fondness flowing in his eyes.

“I know,” he says after a moment, his tone a tad more gentle. “But I’m just saying…you’re allowed to let yourself be happy again, you know. You deserve that.”

Something uncomfortable twists in your insides. Happy. What a simple word, but what a complex thing.

You lift your eyes to meet his, the sincerity in his gaze cutting right through. You could argue, explain that you don't agree, that romance is a door locked for good. Not only out of fear, but out of necessity. It’s no longer just about you. You don’t have the luxury of reckless choices or fleeting little flings like you did before.

There's simply to much buried history to let anyone new into your life.

And deep down, you don't believe you deserve it. But you don’t voice any of that. There's no need to explain. Hoseok knows your history better than anyone, the pain etched deep into you, the one you carry like a scar beneath your skin. He knows Jieun's father plays a big role in that, even though you don’t dare to mention him and haven’t in years. He knows his existence and every memory he’s involved in is something you merely refuse to acknowledge. And though Hoseok wants nothing more than for you to thrive, he knows better than to press on the matter.

Still, he hesitates before speaking quietly. “I’ve been here four years, and I’ve never seen him again.”

He says it gently, in hopes the information is comforting to you, to maybe put you at ease, but instead it feels like a small jab between your ribs. You stiffen, for just a second. You feel your heart begin to race a tiny bit faster. And you wonder when the mention of him will stop having this goddamn effect on you.

Hoseok notices, and regret quickly flickers across his face. He realizes he might have overstepped, treading on thin ice that he fears may slowly be cracking beneath him.

But it doesn't. You take a deep breath, and you simply nod. It’s okay. You know you can’t avoid it forever. Besides, who’s to say he even still lives here? The thought should be reassuring, bring you some sort of peace, be relieving. But it isn’t. Because the thought of ever seeing him again makes your palms sweat, and your chest a little tight.

“Yeah.” You say quietly. “You’re right. Who knows.”

You don't mention how many late nights you've stayed up, haunted with thoughts like if ever did make it out of here. If he ever made it to the states and accomplished all those things he wanted. If he's perhaps settled down and started a family or if he's stuck right where he used to be, how he used to be. You don't mention that sometimes, you mind even attacks you with the intrusive thought of if he’s even still alive.

You don't dare mention any of it.

Hoseok exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I just-” He pauses, voice lowering as he checks Jieun to make sure she's not listening, not that she would know or understand, but you appreciate that he does. “I know we’re not meant to talk about him–“

You push past it, giving a small dismissive shake of the head. Instead, you plaster on a small practiced smile, turning to glance down at the little girl beside you as well. It isn't something easy to avoid. But for the past four years, somehow, you’ve managed it.

“Anyway. I am happy,” you say, voice softer now, steering the conversation elsewhere. “I get all the love I need from my little lovebug right here, don’t I?”

The little lovebug in question remains completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. Instead, her wide eyes are fixated on something outside, her eyes big and small fingers suddenly clutching your sleeve.

“Mommy, look!” She gasps, tugging desperately for your attention, she calls you again, tearing you away from your conversation. “The birdy!”

You follow her gaze, a small black bird just on the other side of the glass, and the simplicity of her joy softens you, eases the heaviness for a second. It really doesn't take much to amuse a child, and you’re glad to see at least someone enjoying her time here so far. “I see, baby.”

You smile with her, that is until, just a moment later, you notice… the small bird is no longer pecking at crumbs on the pavement. It’s… acting rather strangely. Its head twitches sharply to the side, body jerking with twitchy erratic movements as it flaps it’s wings like crazy, then suddenly, it freezes, before twitchting again.

Your brows furrow, unable to take your eyes off it. What the hell? Something about it sends a strange chill through you, suddenly understanding what had Jieun so surprised.

“Oh, I think that poor bird might have gone a little coo coo.” Hoseok turns his head to take a look himself, and you both exchange a puzzled glance, to which Hobi just shrugs with a mildly disgusted expression.

“What, you know I hate birds.” he whispers, shrugging like someone just walked over his grave, and you swat his arm and shush him, suppressing a laugh. You wouldn't want your sweet animal loving daughter hearing that.

“Isn't that so weird. I’ve never seen one do that before.” You say, and hoseok tilts his head, staring at it with a mildly grossed out frown. “Probably has some kind of parasite or something. Not sure.”

“It’s gonna die?” she looks up at hobi, her little face full of worry. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her in closer.

“Not necessarily, bub. I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Hobi answers, trying to be tactful, however, Jieun doesn’t look convinced, but she nods sadly and resumes eating spoonfuls of her hot chocolate that's long gone cold.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine baby.” You kiss the top of her head, as you glance out the window once again, only to see it’s no longer there.

“So odd.” You shake your head, taking another sip of your coffee, and Hoseok nods and lets out a low hum, taking another sip himself.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day? Are you actually gonna start unpacking, or are you going to let those suitcases rot in your living room for another week?” He taunts.

You chuckle. “I’ll unpack eventually. This little girl and I have a long list of errands left to do today.”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you an unconvinced look, then looks at Jieun with a dramatic pout, cooing. “My poor little monkey. Prisoner to moms to do list. I remember that feeling.”

She giggles, and you speak up. “Shhh, she loves errands with mommy, don't you-”

Suddenly, a loud crash sound from the back of the café, startling you all.

The sharp clatter of metal rings out and you hear a young worker gasp, emerging hastily from behind the counter as the previous muffle of conversation begins to die down. Heads immediately start turning towards the scene unfolding before them.

“What the hell?” you murmur as you hastily turn around yourself, pulse spiked from the jump.

Near the back of the cafe, a chair is knocked to the ground, a mans body hunched over on the floor, shaking and convulsing with an unnatural force that seems to take over him completely. The man sitting beside him instantly scrambles to the floor next to him, shaking his shoulders in a failed attempt to break him out of whatever is happening as he calls out for help in a trembling voice, panicked.

“Oh my god, Hobi-” You gasp and your stomach twists as you take in what is occurring, grip instinctively tightening around your daughter's hand, turning her away from the scene. One of the members of staff pulls out her phone, announcing that she will call an ambulance right away, the man on the floor now surrounded by two other workers that instantly made their way over to him.

Hoseok takes just a few seconds to register what’s going on. “Shit.” He mutters, “A seizure.”

Instantly, he’s up on his feet, leaving you and Jieun behind and rushes over to help, but before he can reach the man on the floor, a young worker steps in front of him, his hands raised.

“An ambulance is on the way!” he blurts out, eyes darting between the unconscious man and the crowd gathering around him, Hoseok noticing his eyes full of panic. “Please, just give him space.”

“It's alright. I’m a nurse,” Hoseok urges, trying to step around him. “Please, let me-”

This time, there’s no resistance — only relief in the young man's panicked eyes as he steps aside, allowing Hoseok through to where the man is convulsing on the floor.

Jesus christ. On his one day off. He thinks internally.

Without hesitation, Hoseok drops to one knee. “Don’t hold him down,” he instructs the mans friend beside him as he proceeds to unbutton the first few buttons of the man's shirt to facilitate his breathing. He presses his fingers to his wrist as best as he can, taking a pulse. He attempts to roll him on his side, but he seizes with too much force, limbs jerking far too erratically for him to do so.

“Has he ever had seizures before? Is he epileptic?” Hoseok asks without tearing his eyes away from the man.

The man's friend just shakes his head. “No…no- he was fine right before.”

“Ambulance is just two minutes away,” the barista yells, phone still pressed to her ear. Hoseok nods but keeps his focus on the young man. Face contorted in concertation as he's checking his pulse once again before tilting his head to ensure he’s breathing properly.

You sit speechless few tables away, watching the scene unfold, your heart erratic in your chest. But feeling so much relief Hoseok was here. Jieun's small hand holds yours tightly, grip strong. She shifts in her seat, trying to peek over the booth to the commotion, but you gently pull her in beside you. Pulling her close, you brush a soothing hand over her hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” your whisper. “That man wasn’t feeling very well. But uncle hobi is helping him. Isn’t that so good? He’s really good at helping people remember. It's okay.”

Jien nods slowly, though her brows are still drawn together in concern. She doesn’t fully understand, but she doesn’t doubt your word, or her uncle's abilities.

Across the large space, Hoseok presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes watching carefully as the man's convulsions finally begin to slow, the violent jerking finally seeming to ease up. But just as the worst seems to have passed…Hoseok stiffens.

There’s a concerning, deep purplish hue creeping up the man’s neckline, peeking through the gap of his unbuttoned white shirt. Dark veins snaking against his pale skin, spreading like ink through thin cracks. Hoseok swallows hard, alarm bells ringing at the back of his mind.

That…that doesn’t look right. His medical knowledge kicks in, a thousand possibilities racing through his mind, digging for the most fitting answer. Is it cyanosis? an undiagnosed vascular disease? Possibly an infected wound? blunt trauma?

His mind dashing for answers in an instant, but before he can take a better look and unbutton his shirt completely, after what feels like a lifetime, the piercing wail of sirens cuts right through his thoughts, and just moments after, paramedics burst into the café, pushing past the gathered crowd near the Hoseok and the patient on the floor. Hoseok quickly regains focus, stepping back to allow them to take over.

“He had a seizure. Approximately a minute long. His breathing is stable but—“ He hesitates for a second, then presses on, giving them a brief diagnosis and rundown. “I think he may have another underlying condition. Possible hypoxia.”

The paramedic beside him nods, wasting no time as they swiftly load him onto a stretcher. He stands back, his jaw tight, fingertips tingling with the urge to do more, watching as they wheel him out through the entrance. The murmurs of the coffee shop begin to start up again, confused and concerned looks turning left and right, but Hoseok can’t shake all the questions in his mind.

He just hopes the guy turns out to be okay. The same way it goes with every patient he sees. You have to do your part and let go. That's how it works. but this time, he's left with a weird feeling bubbling inside.

After a few minutes, Hoseok turns back to your table. The moment his eyes meet yours, you’re already standing and asking, “God, is everything okay? He’s okay, right?”

“It’s alright,” Hoseok reassures you, though his tone is softer than usual. “They've got it under control.”

His gaze flickers toward Jieun, who’s still clinging to you, her small face twisted in worry as she glances between the two of you. She tugs your sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mommy…what happened to the man?”

“The ambulance people will take care of him and take him to the hospital so they can help him.” You say gently. She blinks up at you, then glances toward Hoseok, as if waiting for confirmation.

Hoseok lips form a small smile, crouching slightly to be at her eye level. “Your mom is right,” he says carefully, patting her head. “Sometimes when people don’t feel well they need a little help. That’s what doctors and nurses are for Jieun. It’s okay.”

Jieun watches him for a moment, and gives him a slow understanding nod. He then straightens and exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking back toward the road in front of the entrance where the ambulance is now setting off.

You nod, now feeling a weight of unease in the crowded space. It would probably be best to give them space to handle the situation, and to get some fresh air after that. So you retrieve Jieun's little pink puffer vest from off hobis chair and gently help her arms into, zipping it up snuggly to keep her warm from the afternoon chill, before taking her hand in yours.

As the three of you finally step outside, you're grateful for the crisp autumn air that lifts some of the heaviness off you. God, that was stressful. The distant sounds of the city hum around you, and life moves as if nothing happened.

“God, I hope that guy is okay.” You say quietly only for Hoseok to hear, taking your daughter's hand as you let out a slow breath. “First that weird bird and then that poor guy.”

Hoseok hums in agreement and gives a small reassuring nod, pushing his concerns aside. But you know how hard it is for him to switch off. How even when the emergency is over, his mind replays it again and again, analysing— wondering if he could have done more, if he could’ve done better. Even when he deals with stuff like this everyday, it’s never been easy.

“Jesus Christ. What's that saying, bad things always come in two’s? Three’s? ” He chuckles, letting out a huff. “I told you, there’s never an uneventful day out here.” Hobi shakes his head, forcing a smile to lift the mood. But his body still buzzes with tension. Then, in one swift movement, he scoops Jieun up, swinging her into his arms. “Now, time for ice cream?”

Jieun giggles loudly, kicking her feet excitedly at his words, all her earlier worries forgotten. “Yes!”

“Hobi, she just had a hot chocolate. Do you even have space for ice cream, Jieun?” You say, trying to sound stern, but the sight of them giggling together pulls a real smile out of you. And something inside already tells you you’re going to give in.

“She’s with uncle hobi now, there’s no rules.” He sing songs, walking ahead of you with your daughter in arms, all smiles as she squeals at his gentle tickling. The spitting image of joy if you ever saw it.

And for just a moment, you try to push away the nagging feeling that’s been pressing at the back of your mind.

Because maybe, just maybe, this time, everything will be just fine after all.

Jungkook steadies his hand, a quiet hiss of pain getting lost in the low thrumming of the tattoo gun that fills the quiet studio, lulling him into that comforting sense of calm he knows so well. It’s a fairly big piece, he’s been here hunched over for hours now, that familiar dull ache creeping up his back, but he barely registers it. Because all that matters is the art taking form beneath his touch.

Here, in these moments, it's when the feels most himself. Distracted, at peace, In control. Something he’s never found that easy outside of these four walls.

Every stroke, every line falls exactly where he intends it to. In a way, the rest of the world seems to fade away — no worries, just ink and skin, art coming to life. And it grants him a satisfaction nothing else can quite offer. And if there’s one thing Jungkook prides himself on, it’s his work and dedication. He built this place with steady hands and relentless effort, and he knows damn well he’s good at what he does. Confidence hasn't always been second nature to him, but time and experience have definitely sharpened him.

He leans back slightly to take in the work before him, his disheveled strands of dark hair falling over his eyes as he uses a paper towel to wipe up some excess ink from the client's forearm before glancing up. “How are we holding up?”

The young guy shifts in the chair, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Let’s just say I felt that last bit there.”

Jungkook nods, noting the slight sheen of sweat on the guy's forehead. He’s just glad he’s not a squirmer. That shit makes his job so much harder than it needs to be.

His own body is the canvas of plenty tattoos. All colours, shapes and sizes. He's more than numb to the pain now. But he gets it.

“You’re doing really well. I won’t torture you much longer. We’re almost done with the worst part.” Pressing the pedal again, he feels the familiar vibration travel up his arm, he tongues with his lip piercing, a habit that signals his concentration. His hair is dusting over his eyes as he continues with the last bits of shading and does the final touch ups of all the smaller details. Another forty five minutes pass, broken by lighthearted conversation here and there. Though Jungkook never used to be one for making conversation before, he has long mastered the art of letting his mouth wander while his hands and precision remain steady and focused.

“Alright, and we’re done,” he wipes down the fresh ink one last time before setting the tattoo gun aside, letting out a silent exhale as he wheels back, peeling off his black gloves to grab the aftercare instruction sheet, ready to spew his usual little lecture he knows most people don’t even pay much attention to.

“Sit up slowly.” Jungkook instructs.

When the guy finally stands, he marvels at his tattoo in the mirror. Jungkook feels a flicker of pride swell in his chest. No matter how many times he does this, seeing the completed, polished work and his client's expressions of amazement never gets old. “Looks sick man. Better than I imagined.” He beams, twisting his arm under the light, his smile spreading all across his face.

“Good choice with the design.” Jungkook replies with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He then places the protective film, gives him a quick rundown of the aftercare and hands him the sheet. “Take care of it. Follow the aftercare instructions and it’ll heal nicely. And you know, any issues just come by or give me a call and I’ll check it out.”

“Will do. Thanks man, it’s perfect.”

As the last client of the day slips out with a final wave and he hears the bell over at the entrance ding, Jungkook finally feels the exhaustion set in — the kind that only comes after hours of steady concentrated work. Fuck, he really does need to work on his posture. He stretches his back, then cracks his knuckles, stretching his toned, inked arms over his head. But despite the tiredness, he feels no rush no rush to get back to his empty apartment.

He never does.

Instead, he takes his time wiping down his station, tidying all his clutter and ink in the methodical and organized way only he understands — something Yoongi always grumbles about when borrowing his space. But this is his sanctuary. He makes the rules. And yoongi may complain, but he accepts it.

When he's done cleaning up, Jungkook emerges into the entrance area of the studio, rubbing the back of his neck and ruffling his hair at the nape.

Yoongi stretches in his chair behind the front counter, arms lifting above his head as he lets out as wide yawn, smacking his lips as his eyes land on the younger. “Christ, I thought you were dead in there,” he says deadpan, watching as Jungkook attempts to roll out the tension coiled in his shoulders, stifling a yawn himself. “Or are you? I genuinely can't tell.”

“Very funny.” Jungkook mutters, slumping onto the leather couch with an over dramatic sigh, throwing the back of his arm over his eyes as he lets his body sink into the plush cushion. It’s moments like this he’s really fucking glad they invested in a good sofa. He wants it to swallow him.

“Sure you can survive the schedule tomorrow? We’re fucking packed.” He says.

Jungkook’s brows knit together as his eyes dart over to Yoongi, eyeing the printed schedule in front of him as he rubs his jaw. “What? You think I can't handle it?”

Yoongi shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He coughs into his fist, a rough dry sound that echoes through the quietness of the now empty studio. “I know you think you’re some kind of machine,” he gives the younger a pointed look, “but let me just remind you that you are, in fact, very much not.”

Jungkook's lips quirk. “Woah, woah. I’ll be fine. Unlike someone who sounds like they've caught the plague.” Lifting his arms from his eyes just enough to peer at Yoongi, he swings his arm as if to push him away. “Stay away from me with that. I can’t afford a day off anytime soon.”

Yoongi scoffs, waving a dismissive hand as he coughs into his fist again. “Relax, it's just the dust. Or if you’re lucky enough I've caught that shit going around. Won't be on your case anymore for at least two weeks. That's if I survive.”

The sound is muffled by his arm as Jungkook lets out a tired chuckle, but his eyes remain closed. “Now you’re just trying to get out of work tomorrow, hyung. I know your little tricks.”

“If anyone should be trying to get our work, it should be you. Admit your running on fumes.” Yoongi drops the piece of paper to the desk and crosses his arms, looking right across to Jungkook, his eyes squinting lightly.

Jungkook feels his heavy gaze, but he's not in the mood to face one of Yoongis lectures right now. He can’t exactly argue that. Because he knows Yoongi is not entirely wrong.

He's working six days a week, morning till night, barely stopping to take a breath. Hell, it would've been the entire seven days of the week if Yoongi hadn’t raised hell the day he suggested it. Jungkook had tried to reason with him, insisting that Yoongi would still get his days off as usual, that he’d open up the studio alone on weekends and get everything sorted for the week ahead. But it was never about that, and he knew it.

Jungkook has always had a knack for picking up self-destructive tendencies. A slow brewing kind of self destruction, pushing himself way past his limits, working himself down to the bone until he can barely function. And Yoongi simply wasn't going to stand back and watch it happen all over again right in front of his eyes.

Most days, he only eats because it’s Yoongi who shoves food his way, whether he wants it or not. Prepping meals and stashing them away in their mini fridge in the back room where Jungkook can find them, labeled with a little note in his unmistakable messy handwriting that reads “eat.”

Because behind his serious facade, Yoongi had always tried his best to care for him.

From countless nights of dragging his black out drunk body home back in college, and many times after college as well. To picking him up from the streets at 4 am after he got into a nasty fight, bruised and bleeding and sobbing his heart out alone on an empty sidewalk. Yoongi didn’t question it back then, didn't hesitate. He never does. He just helped quietly with no second thought, allowing him to sit with his silent sobs on the car ride home. He had always been there, offering him a home when he had nowhere else to go, offering everything he had if it helped Jungkook from drowning.

It was Yoongi that had seen the potential in him and had patiently guided him to finally see it for himself, helping him build this studio from nothing — helping him build every piece of furniture, putting up every shelf, painting every wall, making sure Jungkook finally had something to call his.

And now, despite all the hardships, he’s come further than they both could have imagined.

Yet deep down, Yoongi knows no amount of help can stop Jungkook from being who he is, not when he has it so deeply rooted in himself to self sabotage in every way he possibly can. It's simply how he’s wired. Yoongi has long accepted that some things are simply beyond his reach, and that Jungkook won’t ever fully change. And he may never admit it out loud, but somewhere in his heart, as the eldest, he’s always felt an unspoken weight of responsibility for Jungkook. That's why he tries relentlessly to guide him towards better choices.

Even though Jungkook has matured and come a long way from his troubled past and the reckless kid he used to be, he’s far from eradicating his bad habits entirely. He knows he’s working himself down to the bone. He knows it's not healthy. Unrealistic for him to sustain in the long run. But he doesn’t like himself when he’s unoccupied.

He doesn't like the quiet.

Because when there’s silence, there’s space for his mind to make noise.

So that’s what he does. He works, works until he can exhaust himself to the point of passing out, too drained to even feel. It means no thoughts can haunt him when his head hits the pillow. And he’s okay with that.

Besides, he loves his job. That's a fact. The only thing he’s passionate about. All he’s ever found himself to be good at. He doesn’t need anything or anyone else.

Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“Fumes are still fuel,” Jungkook shoots back. He reaches behind his head to grab an old vintage manga off the small side table, flipping through the pages without really reading.

Yoongi studies him for a moment, his sharp gaze softening just a fraction. He shifts in his seat, resting his elbows on the counter, zeroing in on him as if he were ready to throw out a serious scolding, like he did back when he was a kid. But his next words are nothing but gentle. “You know, if you wanna keep up with that schedule, you’re gonna need sleep. I can close up if you wanna head out first.”

Jungkooks expression falters — just a flicker. But he covers it with an exaggerated groan. It does get on his nerves ever so slightly, just slightly. What is it with everyone always underestimating him? Treating him like he's not capable of making his own decisions. But his tongue toys with his lip ring as he continues flicking through the pages, feigning nonchalance. “I’m good. I wanna sketch out a few new designs first. Got some ideas ratting around.”

Yoongi squints at him, clearly unconvinced. “You do know that old couch isn't a substitute for a bed, right? and you could just…do that at home.”

Jungkook tosses the comic aside as he shrugs, already bored of the conversation, his inked fingers drumming relentlessly against the worn red leather. “I focus better here.” Is his simple answer, but before Yoongi can speak, a loud siren cuts through their conversation, blaring jarringly as it flashes by across the street. Almost instantly another follows, and then another.

Instinctively, both of their heads turn towards the window, though it only gives view to a small glimpse of the larger front street, most of their view blocked by the building across from them, all they can see is the bright lights flashing as they rush past.

“The hell’s that about,” Yoongi mutters, straightening in his chair.

Jungkook furrows his brows, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better look outside. But from what he can see, everything seems normal enough — cars passing by, people going about their night and a few students heading home from late study sessions. Nothing in particular out of the ordinary.

The studio is located on a fairly quiet smaller side street, on the outskirts of the city, just a little further from the booming heart of Seoul. It’s never as busy or chaotic here, much quieter.

“Accident, maybe?” Jungkook guesses, a tired breath slipping past his lips. It’s still Seoul after all. When is it ever completely quiet?

Yoongi hums in agreement, but as if on cue, another set of sirens blares through the streets, overlapping with others as the noise grows, this time it’s police cars too, wailing violently and urgently before fading into the distance as they speed away. Jungkook glances at Yoongi, who meets his gaze with an equally puzzled expression.

“Must be pretty bad.” Jungkook says.

Yoongi just pulls out his phone to check the time and sighs. “Well, whatever it is, I'm not sticking around to find out.” He pushes himself to his feet, patting his back pocket to pull out his dented pack of cigarettes before reaching for his jacket draped over the back of the chair.

A slight sense of uneasiness crawls up Jungkook's spine. That was about four ambulances and three police cars if not more. That’s….that’s a lot. But he soon brushes it off. “I’ll check the news later.” He mumbles, letting his heavy body drop back against the soft cushion, with no energy or intention to move.

Yoongi tugs his jacket on, tossing him a small glance. “Well, if you’re gonna stay here, at least don’t fall asleep on that damn couch again. You drool, and it’s gross.”

Jungkook chuckles, though it's half hearted. “I won’t ruin your sacred couch, hyung. Don't you worry.”

“Good.” Yoongi deadpans, heading toward the door. He flips the neon sign to closed before turning back to Jungkook once more, his tired features softening just a touch. “Don't stay too late. Tomorrow is fucking packed and you’ll regret it when youre half dead in the morning. And don’t forget about that girl you booked in at 9.”

He presses his eyes shut for a moment, letting out a breath. The girl needed some touch ups to her tattoo but had a busy schedule and no time to visit any other day or at ay other time. So Jungkook did the favour, and offered to book her in before opening time. But fuck. He really does need to stop bending his schedule for people.

He knows he’s going to regret it.

Jungkook just waves a dismissive hand, already getting comfy on the couch. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll leave soon.”

Yoongi doesn't believe him, but he doesn't argue, just pulls out a cigarette from the pack and raises his hands in surrender before he pulls open the door. “Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement. “Rest up, Hyung.”

The studio fades to dead silence once the door closes. Though sirens still echo faintly in the background.

Stretched out on the couch, Jungkook stares at the ceiling a little longer than necessary. His limbs feel heavy, exhaustion pressing down on him heavily. He wants to work on those sketches, he wants to push his limits a little further. But his body seems to know what's best for him. And within minutes, he’s passed out.

When Jungkook’s eyes crack open, it’s to the gentle sound of rain pattering against the windows. But it’s not rain the noise that woke him. Distant voices shout over one another, and the erratic wailing of car alarms and sirens blast in a near distance, sounding like he’s still stuck between consciousness and a dream. Jungkook blinks, then suddenly, screeching tires follow into a loud crash, something heavy and metal hitting the pavement. His heart spikes, and his body jerks up instantly before his mind can register what the hell is going on. The sudden movement makes him lightheaded, blinking as he tries to shake the disorientation fogging his mind.

Shit. How long had he been out?

He curses under his breath, his head throbbing. Did someone just fucking crash their car outside? In his dazed state his fingers fumble for his phone in the front pocket of his jeans. He squints, the bright screen glaring back at him painfully in the darkness of the studio.

11:48 PM.

The first thought that comes to mind is drunk people causing a ruckus. It certainly wouldn't be unusual for Friday night. But then… he stops to listen. Are they breaking in? then his mind steers more towards the possibility of some petty street fight, or some idiots causing trouble. It’s the only conclusion his sleepy can come to.

But then, he hears it.

Raw, panicked, screams erupting from the streets outside. It sounds close. Really close.

What the fuck?

Jungkook feels a sickening pit form in his stomach.

Because that's definitely not the drunken shouts of a fight, not the sound of some petty fight or a car accident. It’s the kind of scream that crawls under your skin. And Jungkook knows the sounds of panic when he hears it. He feels his heart beating in his chest now, fast and strong. Something isn’t right. Before his mind can think further, he pushes off the couch and yanks his leather jacket from the armrest, pulling it on in a swift motion, feeling a little dizzy as the room slowly begins to spin from getting up so fast.

Behind the front counter he crouches, reaching for his motorcycle helmet. But his grip isn't steady, his palms suddenly feel a bit sweaty. The air in the room slightly suffocating.

His mind scrambles as he finally strides for the door, all he knows something is telling him he needs to get out. He’s ready to leave and check on what's happening outside, but just as his fingers brush the cold metal door handle—

A loud bang crashes into the large front window of the studio.

The impact rattles the entire front window, the glass shuddering violently as something smacks right into it with bone crushing force, causing large cracks to expand from the center like a spiderweb, blooming outwards across the glass. The helmet drops to the ground with a loud thud and Jungkook stumbles back in the darknesses, almost crashing back into the front counter as his breath gets stuck in his throat.

Jungkook freezes. His entire body completely paralyzed as he watches a thick, dark gush of red begin to trail down the ruins of the window. His eyes slowly follow it upwards and then…then he sees it.

A face, wedged between the shards of glass.

Jungkook sees the face of a man...except, it can't be. The skin is unnaturally pale, sickly white, dark veins bulging beneath the surface, tiny pieces of glass wedged everywhere into its flesh. Blood coats its entire mouth, dripping to the floor beneath — but it's the eyes… They send a shot of terror right down Jungkook's spine.

They’re clouded and gray, almost white and eerily vacant, yet somehow, they’re locked right onto him.

Jungkook feels like he can’t take a breath, his chest tight as his eyes grow with complete shock and confusion.

Then, it moves.

Its head twitches in a slow agonized form before it seems to fully register Jungkook's figure standing right across. It cocks his head towards him completely with a grotesque sound of craking and lunges forward, slamming its hands against the glass with inhuman strength. Giving it all his power to break inside. It lets out another groan, a guttural broken sound as it reveals a row of blood stained teeth, the deep red liquid dripping from its mouth.

Jungkook swallows hard. If he moves will it move too? Will it...chase him? He feels like no oxygen is reaching his lungs, or his brain, his mind struggling to even process what he is seeing. That…that can't be real. It can’t be human. All he can do is watch as his heartbeat pounds like a hammer in his chest, louder than the sirens and screams growing outside, louder than the animalistic banging against the window.

That…thing is trying to kill him. It’s going to kill him.

It doesn’t stop. It claws at the glass, smearing the blood, desperate, mindless — growing more violent as it seems to realise its stuck. But the glass creaks more with each hit, trembling under the pressure of each movement, and Jungkook realizes it might not hold up much longer. He has no time.

Move.

He has to move.

Like a spring snapping, his body finally kicks into action. He stumbles backwards, feeling glass beneath his shoes as he tries to hold in a breath, his eyes fixed on the creature as he tries to back away with steady steps. After a beat, he sprints towards the back of the studio, running as his body pushes through the beaded curtain into the back room.

His hands fumble frantically in his pocket — keys, keys, keys — but his hands are trembling too much to grip them. Fuck.

Jungkooks mind races with a thousand questions colliding all at once. But none of them make sense. None of them are even remotely rational.

That thing. It wasn’t human. Then what the hell was it?

Another jarring bang echoes in the studio, followed by a loud screech. But Jungkook doesn’t look up. He doesn’t have time. His only thought is to get out of here. Fast. He needs to get away from whatever the fuck that is. He needs to get to his motorcycle. He needs to get the police.

His fingers finally curl around cold metal. The keys. With a sharp inhale, he yanks opens the heavy back door leading into the tiny side alley and slams it shut behind him as he rushes out.

It’s dim, lit only by a flickering street lamp near the end, casting eerie shadows across the brick walls. The air is cool and damp, the smell of rain fresh on the damp asphalt and the sound of sirens and shouting voices in the distance become even clearer than before. But Jungkook can't see the one thing he’s looking for. His gaze darts around frantically and he feels a dreadful realization claw at his throat.

His motorcycle is gone. The spot where it’s always parked is empty.

Jungkook panics, his hands coming to his hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. As he looks around helplessly, his breath only grows more erratic. He finds no other option but to run, so he runs to the end of the alleyway, running right towards the screams and tumult, and when he reaches the end, the scene unfolding before him almost kicks him to his feet.

The once quiet street had turned into a horrifying scene. People mindlessly running away from something. But what his eyes land on almost immediately is on a young woman in the middle of street, clutching her neck with both hands, her body swaying as she chokes out for help before she drops to her knees, her body shaking. Jungkook watches in horror as someone else runs right past her, coming from the same direction, white button up shirt soaked in something dark as his features display a kind of terror he’d never witnessed before. Across the street, an older man is pulling down the storefront gates as he locks himself inside, letting two kids in high school uniforms scream and kick as they beg to be let in, screaming and crying.

“What the fuck...” the words escape involuntarily in a quiet mumble to himself, his hands coming to his head.

Jungkook blinks repeatedly, completely aghast. But he doesn’t think— just moves, bolting down the street. His thick leather boots slam against the wet pavements as he runs, his dark hair blows in the air, his skin covered in a layer of sweat as he weaves past a fallen trash can and then a body, his breath ragged as he tries not to slip on the broken glass. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins too strong to even feel his body protesting.

Rounding a corner, he nearly collides into another person, but his hands instinctively come up to push them away, almost knocking them to the ground. He doesn’t have a space in his mind to think about it or time to dwell on it. His body acting on autopilot. The more he runs, the more people seem to be running in the opposite direction. Away from something. His legs burn as he sprints faster, but coming off onto the main street of Jongno, he comes to a halt as he takes in the state of the streets, pupils blown as something terrible dawns on his expression.

The city is in shambles.

Everything.

Chaos.

Cars sit abandoned in the middle of the road, their doors flung open, some have crashed into street lamps and traffic signs, into each other at intersections, even buildings, the smoke clouding up into the dark sky. Blending with the red and blue of wailing sirens. People are everywhere. Hundreds of people are running in all different directions — some screaming, some covered in blood, some sobbing and some seemingly unmoving on the ground. Pushing and tripping against each other, running, but most don’t even know what they’re running from, simply following the crowd.

How many more of those rabid people were there? How far had this spread?

He wants so badly to be wrong, but something deep inside him tells him this is something big.

He stills for an instant, trying to orientate himself. He scans the street hurriedly for the best route to avoid getting stuck in a crush, to avoid more of those things…but all he sees is the panicked chaos spreading by the second.

Jungkook feels like he’s outside of his body, like this is a dream, a nightmare he’ll wake up from any second now. He closed his eyes for a second and inwardly prays for it to be just a bad dream. But the air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke and blood, and the pounding in his chest is too real. The world around him still screams, set aflame.

This can’t be real.

This…this can’t be happening.

Just a few meters away from him two figures wrestle on the ground — except one of them isn’t fighting back anymore, and the other is hunched over them, their head buried in the victim’s throat. Jungkook staggers back, his stomach lurching at the gut wrenching sounds of someone being mauled alive, bile burning the back of his throat when he watches infected pulls back, large chunks of flesh dangling from its bloody mouth, dripping crimson.

The truth slams into him, but his mind is till fighting to accept it.

People are killing people. Eating people. Except…they're not people. They’re monsters.

Jungkook scans the crowd for an escape route, desperate. After a moment, he catches sight of the least crowded street, it's right on the way to his place. He takes a sharp breath and runs, runs non stop down a dozen blocks. But as he navigates the frantic roads, he spots something as he runs past a small street. Stopping him in his tracks. He notices a tiny figure huddled up alone at the beginning of an alleyway, wearing bright pink, shoulders trembling and hands pressed over her ears as she sobs violently.

A child, no older than three or four if Jungkook had to guess. He halts, heart pounding as he registers her small frightened face, streaked with tears.

He should keep running, he knows he should. His body is urging him to just keep moving, his insides shaking with adrenaline. That’s not his responsibility. He hasn’t stopped for anyone. But the burning images of what he’s just witnessed flash fresh in his mind. And something deeper roots him in place. Something inside him twists, snaps almost, an unfamiliar instinct that overrides his own confusion and fear.

Ah, fuck it.

Before his mind can catch up with what he’s doing, he rushes into the alley, approaching the child cautiously with slow steps as he gets closer. He crouches down to her level, looking over his shoulder nervously. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” his voice is gentle but hurried as he searches her face. “Where are your parents? Are you lost?”

The small girl just looks up at him with large, wet eyes and a trembling pout, her hands balled into tiny fists. She doesn’t answer, just stares, whimpering and hiccuping softly, like she’s been warned to not talk to strangers — especially not ones clothed head to toe in black, covered in tattoos and piercings like himself. He glances around, hoping to see someone rushing towards them, any sign of this child's parents so he can just hand her over and run, but there’s nothing, just the crowd at the end of the alley pushing past in frantic waves and yelling, no one stopping to even look in their direction.

He has to do something.

“Do you…where did you see your parents last-” a loud metal bang echoes in the distance, making Jungkook and the child flinch, a heavy breath escaping him. Fuck, his mind races as he realizes she’s truly alone. The girl just sobs more and he curses under his breath, eyes pressed shut as his mind scrambles for what to do.

He can’t just leave her alone in whatever the hell this is. But what the hell is he supposed to do?

“Uh, alright,” he coughs, throat dry, and speaks softly but hurriedly, trying to mask his unease as he reaches out his hand. “Come with me. It’s not safe here. I’ll… I'll help you find your parents.”

He’ll take her home, get her out of danger and call the police. That’s what he should do.

It’s the right thing to do.

Okay.

He hopes she knows he’s only trying to help. God, his pulse races every second he’s standing here still. They need to move. Now. She just stares at him, uncertain, then slowly reaches out with her tiny fingers, clasping his much larger hand with a surprising grip. She must see past his intimidating exterior, or be so terrified that she’ll take up any offer of being reunited with her parents, either way, her innocence makes Jungkook's heart sting a little. He can't just leave a child out here, he has to help her before something terrible happens to her or she falls into the wrong hands. He doesn't know what the hell to do, all he knows is they have to run, run right now and get away from this, and-

Suddenly, a piercing, desperate voice breaks through the havoc of noise, loud enough to catch Jungkook's attention.

“Jieun!”

The sound makes his entire body lock up, his heart jumping in his chest as he turns toward the voice.

Running towards him, just feet away, eyes filled with worry and tears, he sees you.

Jungkook feels the blood drain from his face.

For a split moment, the world seems to fall silent. The noise, the screams and chaos, the sirens — all of it blurs into a distant hum in the back of his mind. He feels like the air is knocked straight from his lungs as he slowly takes in your face, a slightly more matured version of a face he once knew every inch of, a face he’d buried away along with every memory he’d tried so hard everyday to annihilate ever since you disappeared from his life. A face he could never forget, not even after four painful years.

It can’t be.

No, no, no-

But it’s real, because there you are. Lunging forward and arms out reaching for the little girl beside him with thick tears of relief flooding from your eyes. The child lets go of Jungkook's hand instantly and her tiny feet pat across the concrete as she launches herself into your embrace, leaving him behind to watch, frozen and stone cold like a statue.

“Mommy!” She cries.

Jungkook feels his stomach drop. He thinks he's going to throw up.

He must’ve heard that incorrectly.

Mommy? That child is…

He feels like he can’t move, blood cold as he watches you crumble to your knees, gathering the little girl into your arms with a grip that looks suffocating, as if she might disappear into thin air again. Your whole frame trembles as you hold her close, relief pouring from you in loud, choked sobs, your fingers getting tangled in her wet hair as you comb though it desperately.

That’s.. your child?

“Jieun, oh my god, baby. You’re here, you’re okay,” your voice cracks with all the pain your body just underwent, whispering against her temple. “Are you hurt? You’re not hurt are you, baby?”

The last thing you remember is being in the convenience store when the chaos began. When you walked out you had no choice but to run into the crowd. How Jieun was holding your hand and in the blink of an eye, her hand slipped from yours. You turned back, screaming her name, but she was gone, just another small figure lost in the stampede of a city falling apart.

By the time you fought your way out of the crowd, Jieun was nowhere in sight. Your heart is still hammering loudly between your ribs, mind stuck on the past horrifying minutes since she disappeared from your side.

But as you finally look up… all your relief shifts, eyes darkening with shocking realisation that mirrors the expression in the man standing just feet away when you. Heart hammering in your chest as if it recognized him before your eyes do.

You blink once, twice to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. Completely distraught.

If Jungkook thought he was stuck in a bad dream before, he’s certain now this is all a cruel, sick and twisted nightmare. He feels his stomach churn. The weight of clashing emotions and utter disbelief thrown over him. So many questions he can’t yet voice crashing into him like a bucket of ice cold water, making his blood run cold.

This has to be some kind of sick joke.

All of it.

“Jungkook?” Your voice trembles, barely a whisper, as if the sound of his name out loud might shatter you to pieces.

He’s standing in front of you, drenched from the rain, his wet dark hair hanging messily in his face — so much longer than it used to be. He has new piercings on his face, and his features have definitely matured. He looks…different, yet somehow exactly how you remember him. His big dark eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel your world stop.

“Y/n?” His voice cracks slightly, like he’s just been punched in the gut. “Wh…what are you doing here?” but there’s no anger in his voice, just confusion, and perhaps, a hint of something painful. His words hang heavy between you, getting lost in the sounds of the burning city beyond this tiny street, and you feel a paralysing weight on your chest. Your mind reeling beyond comprehension.

You open your mouth to speak, ready to say something, anything. But you feel like you’ve forgotten how to form words. So you close it again, no words come out. His eyes flicker from your face to the little girl clutching your side, and you feel a pit sinking in your stomach. God, please no.

This can’t be happening — not here, not now.

Not like this.

You want to bolt, to run and not look back like you always do. You wish the earth would just swallow you entirely. But all you can do is stand there, your heart pounding faster in your chest, mouth dry.

You try to step around him, desperate to move forward, to escape this horror. But before you know it, his hand catches your arm. He grips you gently, but with a force that indicates he won’t let you slip away again. His touch almost makes you fall to your knees.

“Come with me.”

Your body stiffens at his words, and you swat your arm loose of his grip. You lift Jieun into your arms instinctively, fingers curling around her small body as if the mere act of holding her can shield you from everything. From him, from all the pain, from all of this living nightmare.

“No,” you say, the word coming out broken, like your breath is caught. “I can’t go with you. I need- I need to get hobi-”

“My apartment isn’t far,” he cuts in, not giving you space to say more. “We need to get off the streets.’’

You hesitate, watching his gaze scurry between you both again. Everything in you is telling you to just run, to put as much distance as you can between yourself and Jungkook. Willing this conversation to die before it can even begin. Before he can start asking questions you’re not ready to answer. Before you have to face things you’ve already buried deep. Before it’s too late.

You need to leave. But Jieun is shaking, clutching onto you for dear life as she whimpers against your chest, and the sounds of screams still ringing in your ears. And there’s infected everywhere. You’re stuck in the middle of a warzone, and you have no idea what to do, no idea where to go.

All you know is you need to get Jieun out of this. Away from danger.

“Have you not seen what the fuck is going on? People have gone fucking insane!” His tone grows harsher now, trying to knock some sense into you. “We need to move.”

A gut wrenching scream echoes from somewhere beyond the alley, closer than before this time. Too close.

Jungkook swears under his breath, running a hand through his hair, torn between a storm of brewing emotions and the immediate danger closing in. His jaw tightens as he looks behind him then back to you. “Y/n, we need to go. Now.”

You shake your head violently, and you can feel hushed tears burning behind your eyes. You can’t breathe, can’t think clearly. All you can feel is Jieun trembling in your arms.

“Please-” his voice drops, raw and desperate. Almost a plea.

And don’t know when or why it happens, but the next thing you know, your feet are moving. You’re running with everything you have left in you.

Somehow, the world is ending, and you’re allowing yourself to be guided by Jungkook down streets devoured by chaos, heading to the only safe place around you.

His home.

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100vern · 8 months ago

Text

ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol angst #seungcheol au #scoups angst #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #jewel writes

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littledes1re · 24 days ago

Text

Neighbours help pt. 2

Pairing: Old!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summery: After this thing happened between you and your neighbour, you have been avoiding him at all costs. But one night he comes into your apartment, wanting to fix something he thinks it’s broken so he can see you again. Aka..he finally fucks reader😌

Warnings: 18+, Angst, praise kink, overstimulation, size kink, squirting, slight breeding kink, slight daddy kink, fingering, big cock joel, pinv, pet names, big age gap! (reader is 25-26ish and Joel is 60), switching between POV’s, hair pulling, Dom/Sub undertones, Mean!joel, but also Soft, joel mocks reader, really sensitive reader, darcyphilia, kinda naive reader, kinda pervy!joel

A/N: I didn’t think pt.1 was gonna do so well that people would ask me for pt.2🤭 i’m so thankful, but especially to @keseqna because they gave me the idea!! <3 I don’t know how to do a Masterlist so all my blurbs/writings are under #des1rewrites !!

“…Not want your annoying little ass anywhere near my apartment anymore, s‘that clear?“

This sentence has been stuck in your head, repeating over and over since the last interaction you had with joel. But not just in your head but somehow also in your heart too. Like a sharp blade, stinging you constantly, whenever it gets quiet and you remember what happened. Whenever you see him on the apartments hallway, completely ignoring you, sting. The times you come on your fingers, with that scenario in mind, imagining his hands gripping your skin, the texture of his jeans underneath you, the sweet pet names, sting. Because you bring to mind how he mocked you, how he looked at you and how he didn’t want to have anything to do with you after that.

You felt embarrassed, ashamed and hurt. First, you didn’t know what got into you on that day. Second, it would’ve been much more easier to handle this guilt afterwards if he was young and wasn’t living right next to you. His age turned you on, the roughness of it all. The manliness that comes with handling everything himself, demanding personality and the stern nature. But he was much older than you and you knew all the risks that came with dating much older men.

You didn’t know yourself like this. Being struck by a man, completely forgetting morals and self respect and just going dumb, while he mocks you. And then riding his thigh because he showed you one second of his soft side. Maybe he was just hurt? Maybe he was just joking around?

You slapped your hands on top of your face, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to overcome the sense of embarrassment. Apparently you were too naive and you also knew that you still wanted him. That you could not turn it off, you could not just ignore the throbbing between your legs, you could not ignore the attraction you felt for this man. He didn’t want you, he made it clear. But gave you a taste of what to except from him and left you with longing for more.

—

Joel wasn’t doing well either. The guilt was butchering him, it was unbearable and the fact that you really stopped with all of your annoying greetings and random visits made his stomach turn just more. Hell, they were not annoying. He was just being dramatic, messing with you. He knows that he is grumpy, he knows that he is annoyed with everything and maybe not the most nice human being but how could he? Since he lost his daughter he could not feel an ounce of happiness. He locked himself up from the rest of the world and let nobody in, wanting to protect his already broken heart and just live his life. In peace.

You come here with all that happy and quirky attitude, caring for him and being all joyful. He didn’t need that right now, he wasn’t— heck, he wasn’t ready for that. But deep down he knew that you didn’t deserve that. Even if the mean behaviour got you gushing like a faucet, it okey for him to call you annoying and that he didn’t want you near his apartment again. You are living alone, what if you need something? Advice, an open ear? Food? Something he has to fix? …to cum again?

Whenever he saw you he excepted a little ‘hello’, a smile, a something. Your face lacked any expression, your body moving fast to open the door and get in before he has to stand there with you. After that he realised what kind of damage he had done.

The day he let you ride his thigh was unusual, he was going to fix the damn fridge and would be out of there in 10 minutes. Then he saw how restless you were, leg shaking, eyes glassy and thighs clenching. Poor girl, he thought to himself. Was him sitting there and trying to read the instructions making you this restless? It was surprising, but nothing that he wasn’t excepting as he always saw how you looked at his arms or torso whenever he was outside, packing his car or when you visit him. He knew you needed to get it out of your system once in a lifetime to leave him alone, but what if he needed it also?

It was also crystal clear that he wanted you. I mean who wouldn’t? Pretty thing like you, swaying your hips from left to right, always trying your best to have manners and be nice, sweet doe eyes and a beautiful smile. He felt guilty, he was old, too old to be in your business, he would ruin you. It was killing him getting off on his fist with the thought of you and only you.

It was the middle of the night and you woke up at 2am, feeling this need and throbbing between your legs. Again. Your sleepy state of mind didn’t do much of thinking as you slide your hands down to your panties and started to rub your clit, eyes closed and lazily. The wetness spreading through your folds as you tiredly moan into the quiet room. Hips bucking in the need of wanting something more, something that leaves you as satisfied as the day your fridge broke. Joel.

You finger rubs faster with every breath that you take, the squelching sounds of your wetness getting more and more louder, just like your moans. Flashes of joel come up in your mind, the beautiful brown eyes, big strong shoulders, his rough hands and beautiful hair coaxing you into your orgasm as you start to cry out his name into the night until— a knock on your door.

You sit up as quick as you never did, the tiredness long gone, you wipe your fingers on your panties. Eyes widen you ask yourself who the hell it that is knocking on your door at this hour. Your pulse still high from your stolen orgasm going higher because now you are kinda scared.

Standing up slowly, you move to your door. Gently listening, trying to figure out if there was really someone standing there. But you could hear nothing.

You opened the door slowly, peeking trough the small gap and seeing him standing there. Hands on his hip, jacket and jeans still on. You swallowed, what the hell was he doing here in the middle of the night? Why was he still wearing his work clothes and looked like he was sweating? Your eyes widened just more, he was the last person you excepted on your doorstep.

“Open up, girl. S’just me.” He muttered, clearly trying to keep his voice down, not wanting to disturb your other neighbours.

“What do you want?” You whispered quickly through the gap, earning a sigh, his hand running through his curls.

“Just need to talk about something, open up. It’s important”

The confusion grew just bigger and bigger while in the pit of your stomach fear start to spread. Did he hear you?

you slowly backed off and opened the door for him. His huge frame didn’t change a bit, he just looked at you, the familiar brown eyes scanning you from head to toe. Your cheeks flushed, realising what you are wearing. The thin white silky nightgown you just bought, under that just your panties.

His breath hitched as he saw you like this. Your head was looking down, your arms nervously playing with the hem of your gown and if the moon didn’t shine trough the window, thank god it did, he couldn’t see your perked up nipples and the little panties you wore, the dress just barely covering your thighs. He was about to lose his god damn mind.

You looked up to him baffled, how he had the audacity to come to your apartment after telling you that he didn’t want you anywhere near his apartment.

“Uh, how ya’ doin’ girl?” You could hear the uncertainty in his voice. He looked around the room, his eyes always falling to your body, but looking quickly away but you noticed.

“What do you mean how am I doing? I’m trying to sleep?” You exclaimed, clearly getting frustrated and unpatient, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Yea, yea. You’re right. Disturbed ya huh?”

What the hell was he even talking about? Was he drunk? Did he really hear you? your nervous system almost falling apart at the thought of him hearing you moan his name at the night and him coming to you to ask you about it.

“Steve called me. Said there is something goin’ on with the sinks and the pipes, need’ta have a look.”

Steve, the landlord of this apartment complex. Something about this story wasn’t adding up, he looked so unsure, looking trough the room, avoiding your eyes.

“Steve? Called you? In the middle of the night?” You asked suspicious, his eyes landing on you.

“Yes, in the middle of the night because it’s an emergency, girl. Now if you would let me just quickly look into your bathrooms sink, I will leave the princess alone so she can get her beauty sleep.” His voice was rough, like he just woke up from his sleep. And that tone, annoyed and acting like he knows it all, no one should contradict him. So stubborn.

You looked at him up and down, something still wasn’t adding up. This was sure not a very logical story. Why couldn’t steve just call you? Why was he sending joel? And whatever is going on with the pipes, you definitely didn’t notice anything different while doing your nightly routine. So what was all of this about?

He sighed.

“Girl, listen. Ain’t happy about being here too, but I gotta look into this, promise I leave as soon as possible”

Deep down you were somehow happy to that he was here. His presence felt warm and the scolding and annoying tone felt familiar, like nothing happened between you two. But of course your body was betraying you once more, the aching and stolen orgasm from earlier was still present. Like an uninvited guest, pushing you further and further into an uncomfortable situation that you didn’t want to repeat again.

“Okey, come with me”

Joel didn’t know what the hell he was doing here. Not a single brain cell acted with caution in this scenario, not one thought came into his mind that told him it was a bad idea. He heard you moaning out his name.

Again.

He hears it every god damn night and it drives him absolutely mad. There is this little angel laying in her bed, desperately pushing her small fingers into her cunt, knowing it’s not enough, aching and begging for him and something more, for something bigger and something that full fills her completely. His cock throbbing like it hadn’t in the last 20 years, his heart aching, just wanting to be there and fill you to the brim, fuck you thoroughly and good just the way you deserve.

So he had enough, knocking on your door in the middle of the night like a mad man. His story dumb and not logical and if you were to ask a little more about that he probably would’ve run away in embarrassment. The sight of your small frame in that little tiny silk dress made it all worth it for him tho.

“Sorry, s’a mess in here. Not excepted any visitors.”

You stood there in your small bathroom, showing him your sink and he immediately got into his knees looking for the pipes underneath.

“S’okey. Not used to seeing something else anyways.” He chuckled but you didn’t smile nor did you make any expression because you were still mad at him.

He looked through the pipes and you looked at his board shoulders and back. But after a while it seemed to you like he didn’t know what he was doing. He just rolled the tubes around, inspecting them like they were showing signs of something wrong but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Agonising 5 minutes you stood there behind him, your back against your washing mashing and him still not doing anything but just inspecting and touching the pipes. You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?

He turns around, looks at your eyebrows pinched and his gaze fall on your body. The bathroom was well lit so now everything was on display, your gown being see through and the cold in the night making your nipples hard, the patch of wetness visible on your panties.

Joel was about the lose it. He clenched his jaw, his eyebrows furrowing just more, his mouth going dry and the bulge in his pants making him uncomfortable, he could no longer deny the fact that he just came here because he wanted to see you—see you and totally take care of you.

“Can hear ya always, y’know?”

Your heart dropped, goosebumps spread all over your body as you looked at him dumbfounded. Completely loss at words as he just chuckled at your reaction.

“The walls are thin, sweetheart.”

Warmth spreading across your panties, a little gush. Your cheeks heated and red, you looked down, embarrassment washing down on you. Not only he was aware of your attraction to him, but also the way he had an influence on you and your body. Like he knew it like the back of his hand, knew what buttons to push to make you silent pliant doll for him.

Apparently that’s why he was there and somehow, you were happy. Somehow the deep embarrassment was leaving slowly by slowly and you completely wanted to give yourself to him, let him take the lead and do whatever he wanted with you.

Joel stood up, his tall frame caging you. His rough hand slowly landing on your hip, squeezing the flesh and earning a yelp from you. His tobacco and whiskey tinted smell clouding your mind once more, the desperation transforming to need.

You looked up to him while his hand explored your body, squeezing there and there, landing on your tits, massaging them roughly while giving extra attention to your perked up nipples, gently pulling them and pinching them. Your head fell into his chest, whining at the feeling on your breasts. He cooed into the room.

“Poor fucking, baby. Poor baby, got you so fuckin’ needy. Yea, got you so fucking needy baby.”

You felt like crying at how much needy he got you. His hands left your tits, gently grabbing your neck, then your hair tugging at it, making you look up to him with glassy eyes and a pleading look.

This is what he wanted to see. This fucked out look, lips swollen, eyes glassy and full of desperation and he didn’t even do anything yet. So easy to get worked up, so responsive to his touch.

He gently neared his lips to yours, you eagerly connecting them, kissing them with a whine. He was caught off guard but figured it out as the kiss intensified, his hands still in your hair, he made a pony tail tugging at it whenever you became too desperate, nearly bitting his lips off.

As he pulled away, you whined, always whining for his touch and his guidance. He looked at you for a good moment before tugging again on your hair making it fall back, revealing your neck to him. He hungrily kissed every inch of your cleavage, sucking marks there and on your neck. The impatience was growing, as you started to move around too much he pulled your hair again and strategically put his knee between your legs.

“Fucking desperate. How the hell am I supposed to work with this huh? Fidgety little girl. What are you gonna do when I bounce you on my cock? Gonna break it in half hm?”

“Nuh uh” you cried out, his knee starting to rub your cunt again just like the day he wanted to fix your fridge. His hands were still tugging your hair as you slowly get off to his knee, him just fixated on you, eyebrows pinched, completely mesmerised by your pleasure.

“Nah baby. We gotta set some rules. You wanna keep doin’ that, i’ll leave you with nothing. It’s either listening to me or I have you unsatisfied crying in your bed because your little fingers are not enough for you to get off.”

You nodded instantly, pausing your movements on his knee and looking at him as he let your hair free and slowly moved to the strings of your gown. Letting them fall down your arms and revealing your tits to him. He immediately latched on to your left nipple sucking and biting while you were controlling yourself not to buck on his knee.

“You do what I say when I say it, we clear?” He asked, your tit leaving his mouth with a pop.

“Yes”

“Repeat it.”

“I do everything you say when you are saying it.” You obediently repeated him, looking into his darkened eyes waiting for him to answer.

But he had other plans.

You yelped out as he unexpectedly hooked two fingers into you. You couldn’t even comprehend in what time he pulled down your panties and slid his hands down there. He groaned as you harshly tugged on his arms, making him closer then he already is, pressing you more into the washing machine behind you.

His fingers made a squelching sound whenever he drew them out and plugged them back in. Silent moans leaving your mouth, his fingers way bigger than his. It was stretching you, such an unusual feeling, hitting just the right spots you didn’t even know their existence about.

Sure you had sexual encounters before but none of these people ever took their time to really pleasure you.

Joels hand was dripping with your juices, it soaked his fingers full but he didn’t stop thrusting them into your cunt, not even when you shook your head from side to side babbling something about toomuch t-toomuch.

His gaze never left yours as he fucked you open, sometimes scissoring and curling them in you.

“Shh, shh. That’s it. Crying on two fingers already, how are you gonna take my cock hm? Have to stretch you out properly.”

Your fists were weakly banging on his chest as your body moved up and down on his fingers, your hips sitting on top his leg and back against the machine behind you. Your tits gently moving along the thrusts, he enjoyed the show, his face smug and knew that the pleasure was unbearable for you.

He pressed the palm of his hand on your clit, gently stimulating it while your legs completely shook, your body gone limb as you cry out into the bathroom cumming all over his fingers. Joel’s fingers slowed down but still going in a good rhythm so you could ride out your orgasm properly.

Your breathing was still coming in quick, you laid your head on his chest and started to calm down.

“Talkin’ about too much. Little cunt s’gonna take more than that now, baby.”

“Mhm, please” you whined into his shirt, his fingers were still inside you, not moving, just gently feeling the pulsing and clenching of your cunt. The mess you made on his hand was still dripping down.

He took your hair into his fist again and tugged you back. It was hard for him to control himself when you looked like this, he didn’t even do much. One orgasm and you were trembling. Eyes red and swollen because you cried, cheeks still wet and mouth full of drool. What was he gonna do to you on his cock? Break you apart?

“Fucking hell, drooling and crying all over yourself. Look at ya. Pretty fucking girl” he kissed the your tears away, kissing your forehead, your chin and then your lips again. You lazily kissed him back, the energy and eagerness already slowed down with the release, you were floating.

You suddenly broke the kiss, crying out, feeling his fingers going in and out of your cunt again. He chuckled, tugging at your hair and pulling you into the kiss again. There was no time to think for you, he was overstimulating you every second. It was so sensitive that tears started to form in your eyes again.

“Mhph—please. Not again.” You whined shaking your head escaping his kiss.

He mockingly pouted at you, slowing down with his fingers.

“Gonna replace it with my cock and show you what to cry and pout about, hon. S’that what you want? Without proper stretching? Poor cunt would get all achy, baby.”

You wanted him to fuck you, truly. But at what state this was going, it would probably hurt a lot. So you listened to him and let him finger you again, your pussy clenching releasing gush after gush. You bit your lips as he started going faster and harder again, body moving up and down as you buried your face into his neck, now fully sobbing at the overwhelming stimulation.

“Just one more, c’mon angel. Cum on my fingers, show me you can take my cock”

You bit down his jacket, this one coming very tingly, stronger than the first one but more releasing, like a relief washing over you. You bucked your hips into his fingers, him holding you and sitting you down on the washing machine finally. With his other hand he rubbed your back up and down, while he slowed down with his pumping in your cunt.

“Atta girl, s’what i’m talking about. Always listening to me.”

He grazed over your little clit with his palm once, twice as you let the aftershocks of your orgasm settle in. You didn’t even notice when he picked you up and went to your bedroom.

He gently laid you down on your bed, your head completely clouded, legs spread as you burrowed your face into one of your pillows, humming.

“What a sight. Pretty girl on her pretty bed, swollen wet cunt on display, clenching on nothing.”

Joel took his jacket off while speaking, then his jeans dropped down, seeing his hard bulge absolutely leaking his shorts full. It was truly a miracle how he didn’t already cum in his pants while fingering you.

The bed weighted down as you felt him get on top of you, putting the pillow away from you and looking at you like a little puppy.

“Hi.” You squeaked.

“Hi, baby. Already getting tired on me?”

You shook your head. “No, jus’ feel good”

He chuckles at that, kissing all over your face and peking your lips.

“Now you gonna feel even better, honey.” you looked down seeing his huge cock out, angry leaking tip, twitching and releasing pre cum all over. His tip was huge and the rest of it girthy and big, and on the end there was his salt and pepper bush, covering him all over.

“S’huge” your worried eyes found him as he slowly started to jerk off his cock, squeezing the tip lightly making it ooze some precum out.

“Yea, that’s why. I told ya.”

Your cunt was begging for him to finally fuck you, but you were still worried that it might hurt you.

“Gonna take care of you, don’t worry baby. S’okey.”

His reassuring words made you feel safe, warm and bubbly, you loved his soft side. His mean side was hot but this side you preferred more. You gently run your head through his curls, tugging him for a kiss. He hummed into the kiss, deepening it, his cock slowly starting to stretch you out.

“When you want us to stop baby—fuck. Ya just scream red, s’ that clear?”

“I scream red, yes.” You repeated him just like he told you, earning a kiss on your forehead for that and a little good girl.

At first it was a slight stretch and sting that made you mewl into his lips, but he hushed you, slowly feeding his cock into you, slightly pulling out and doing the same again.

You pulled away from his lips with a cry, tears starting to form in your eyes as he gently held your left cheek, whispering sweet nothings, looking into your eyes. His other hand coming on your little button, swollen from the previous releases, he starts to rub you gently.

Your whimpers turn into little moans as you clench down on his cock that’s only is halfway in there.

“Doing so well, honey.” He whispered “so so well.” and that with another rub on your clit was all it took for you to come on his cock again. This was the most powerful one. Your whole body shook as you buried your head into the pillows on top of you and joel making holding you close to him, as you ride out your orgasm. He grunts, trying not to cum with you clenching down on his dick hard.

Joel takes the chance to fully insert himself into you while you were still dealing with the climax, face still buried in the pillow, the moans filling the room, he loved every second of it. Turned you into a crying mess. Daddydaddydaddy you whimpered into out, his eyes widened, a deep growl coming from him, his cock in you throbbing with need.

He felt absolutely feral, he didn’t give you time to adjust you on his cock and placed his hands on your waist, slowly but surely thrusting in and out of you, your gushing heat perfectly hugging him and the lots of cum you already released mixing perfectly with his pre cum, making it easier to just hold you and fuck into you.

This is what you needed. You were always imagining this scenario in your head whenever you got off, imagining him taking care of you, handling you and making you feel safe in his arms.

“Was right with stretching you out huh? Look how easy you are taking this cock in you, baby.”

He held your neck, pulling you away from the pillows, making you slightly sit up and watch how his shaft is disappearing completely in and out. You whined, legs shaking as you tried to escape from his grip so you could burrow your face into the pillow again, but he didn’t let you.

“Nuh uh, watch how i’m fucking ya.” He growled, his hips never slowing down on you, your cunt feeling too good, too tight. He never wanted to stop.

“Always with the tears. Just crumbling all over daddy’s dick. S’what you are good for, dumb little girl like you”

So he kept fucking you.

In and out, In and out.

The matress underneath you completely soaked with your mess, one of his hands patiently rubbing your clit while the other one wiping your tears away. His lips always grazed yours, placing kisses all over your neck, suckling, knowing you are going to be all bruised up tomorrow.

“Please—gonna—daddy.” you cried out, his cock leaving your pussy as you squirted into his torso, your body shaking, legs going numb and your face completely sobbing.

“Fuck, angel. Keep going baby.” He kept rubbing at your little nub, while you released gush after gush, your body completely exhausted at this point, going limb on the mattress. It was unbelievable, you never squirted before and it felt like heaven came down on you. The pleasure was unbearable at this point, your cunt completely overstimulated, swollen and red. You looked up to him, breathing heavily you saw him jerking off his cock, dangerously close to your pussy. He wasn’t going to fuck you one more time right?

“S’too much”

“Y’know what to say, when it’s really too much.” He sternly told you, holding his hand on your chin making you look into his eyes. You nodded, mouth dry not having the energy to repeated anything right now. Luckily he accepted that.

Your body completely bucked and shook as you felt his cock entering you once more. Your fists tried to fight him off, but there was no use. He began thrusting again, he held your face in his hands and just stroked the tears away.

“Shh sh. None of that. C’mon now, with daddy. One more.”

He fucked you absolutely without slowing down. Your throat was hurting at how much you were sobbing and pleading him no. But he wasn’t letting up.

“What if I fill ya up hm? Make this belly full.”

You shook your head, eyes widening as he chuckled.

“People—the people are gonna talk. Would kill you”

“Yeah baby? They would kill me? For filling you up, making you a mama? What if we test that theory out hm?”

You couldn’t help but clench, his smugness turning you on, the way he insisted doing whatever he pleases, your mind going to the morning after pill you still had in one of your drawers. The relief washing over you, as you buried your face into his neck, feeling his thrusts getting messier and messier.

Your nipples were rubbed raw on his shirt, your hands tugging at his curls, his lips attaching them on your neck. He was growling and moaning into your ear, you’ve never heard something hotter.

“S’that what you wanted? Old man fucking you, filling you up, making you his hm? Taking care of you. Just like the little pillow princess she is” your hips bucked up to him, matching his thrusts, you were close.

“Please— s’what I wanted uh huh, yes” you nodded your head quickly, feeling his lips forming a smile on your neck.

His thrusts grew sloppier and sloppier and as you felt his muscles clench and one of his hand sneaking down, starting to rub at your poor sensitive clit again.

“C’mon with me, baby. One last time, cum for daddy angel.”

This one was more soft and more loving than the other ones because you guys came together, you clenched down on his dick while he released in you, filling you up.

He grunted into your ear while slowly and surely he was done, his cock growing soft in you. You kissed him on the cheek, making him look up to you. His face was exhausted pretty brown eyes droopy and lips were swollen. Now he was the one who truly looked fucked out. He smiled to you, feeling tiredness overcome him as he softly buried his face into your neck and closed his eyes. You stroked his curls, his back making him hum. And then you heard snoring coming, knowing he fell asleep.

“Poor old man.” You closed your eyes too, satisfied.

That was A LOT. I hope this somehow makes up for tomorrow’s episode (i’m not ready). Again, feedback is gladly appreciated, i’m still new to writing. i’m so happy that lots of people liked the first part and now I have almost 200 followers which is crazy! 😭🤭

Thank you for all the people reading and especially for the people who wanted a pt. 2! @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @iamsherlocked-1998 @viicwz @jasminedragoon @pedroswife69

#des1rewrites!#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #tlou #the last of us #old!man joel #dom!joel miller #smut

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dvrk-moon · 3 months ago

Text

LOVE ME NOT - YANG JUNGWON

— synopsis: fake dating your enemy, yang jungwon, for the sake of getting your mutual friends to stop playing matchmaker is the worst idea you’ve ever heard in your life. however, it’s a bit more enticing when $100 is thrown in the mix.

— word count: 21k

— warnings: cursing, suggestive jokes, stupid teenager activities, classism

— featuring: ive wonyoung, bnd taesan, zb1 gyuvin, nwjns minji, + more 04 liner idols

— genre: enemies-to-lovers, fake dating, SLOW burn, jungwon x fem!reader, private high school au

— playlist: kiss with a fist - florence + the machine, r u mine - arctic monkeys, the way i loved you - taylor swift, you get me so high - arctic monkeys, norman fucking rockwell - lana del rey, make up your mind - florence + the machine (feat. fire burning - sean kingston, come on eileen - dexy’s midnight runners for part 17)

— a/n: lowkey so relieved this is over and finally written after FOREVER. in the same breath i am so sad because this fic has been in the works for years (at least 3) and to see it finally written is so bittersweet :( thank you to everyone who supported me while writing this !!! i love you all so much !!!

— taglist: @jwonistic @ilovejungwonandhaechan @wensurr @yyawnjun @slvtella @dimplewonie @ch4c0nnenh4

i. GOD-DAMN, MAN CHILD

The wind always blows when you don’t want it to.

At least, that’s what it feels like.

You were sat on a bench outside of the country club owned by your friend’s family. They were crazily wealthy, owning not only a country club but also many vacation homes and businesses. That was pretty much a given though, especially since you had met your friend at a private and prestigious academy. Everyone that attended the school was extremely well off in a sense. Most of the students had parents who were business owners, political figures, or even celebrities. To say that you were an outlier would be an understatement.

You didn’t come from wealth. In fact, you were one of the only students at your school to not come from wealth. You were offered a scholarship for your academics; last year, you had an opportunity from your old school to take a test that offered a scholarship to your current academy if you scored well. Only the top five scorers would be granted admission. You and four other students were awarded with the scholarship.

Unfortunately, that meant that you had left a completely different life behind. Your two best friends from childhood, Minji and Gyuvin, were both in support of your academic opportunity, but neither of them had passed the test, so you were left alone. A new, clean slate at a school where you knew next to no one.

Your new classmates made no effort to help you fit in. In fact, most of them ridiculed you for coming from a lower class. It was expected when mingling with snotty prep school kids, but it still hurt. The only person that hadn’t singled you out was Wonyoung.

She was easily the most popular girl there, but she still brought you under her wing. This caused the others to be slightly kinder to you, but only in her presence.

So here you were, sat on a bench, outside of her family’s country club, swinging your legs and glancing at the tennis court in front of you. It was late March, and though the weather reports had said that it would be nice enough outside to wear a skirt, your legs were cursing you because of the wind.

Wonyoung had gone inside temporarily to go fetch the two boys that you were going to play tennis with. She’d left about two minutes ago, telling you that she just had to run down to the entrance gate and she’d be back as soon as possible.

You fidgeted with the hem of the skirt you were wearing. It wasn’t even yours; it was Wonyoung’s, and she had let you borrow it for today. You laughed at yourself, because here you were, at a country club, yet the clothes you were wearing weren’t even yours. From an outsiders perspective, you seemed rich. Everyone else could tell the truth, though.

Another breeze passed by and you stood up, walking towards the door. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d have to wait, so you figured that you may as well wait inside.

As if on cue, Wonyoung exited the door with the two boys. You knew both of them from school. Honestly, you liked Wonyoung’s boyfriend. His name was Taesan. He was always nice to you, and never made you feel bad for being of a lower class.

The other boy, however, seemed to have a personal vendetta against you, and you had no idea why. He didn’t seem to like you from the first day you met, even though you’d been nice to him from the get-go. If you had to guess why he didn’t like you, it was probably for the same reason that none of your other peers seemed to like you: your wealth status.

Jungwon was his name, and aside from being a major jerk to you, he was extremely intelligent. Ever since you arrived at the school, you’d been one of the top ranked students. It made sense, too, as you were permitted into the school based on your academics. Jungwon was ranked second to you in most classes. You figured that could be another reason.

As soon as you met eyes with Jungwon, he rolled his own and shook his head. He was donned in the most prestigious tennis outfit you’d ever seen, which was saying a lot, given as this country club was flooded with rich and pretentious tennis players.

“Okay,” Wonyoung started, walking over to you, “now that we are all here, do you guys want to warm up?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon said, looking away from you, “let’s warm up.”

You didn’t miss how Jungwon slightly shoulder-checked you as he walked towards the tennis courts.

You entered the fenced-in courts, and another breeze blew in your direction. As a reaction, you shivered, making Wonyoung giggle as she made her way towards you.

“Sorry about the hold up,” she started, bouncing a tennis ball on the court, practicing her serving. She looked over at the other side of the court, where Jungwon and Taesan were situated. She laughed, “but those two were taking forever. They’re weird.” She offered you an apologetic smile.

“It’s fine,” you said, “I was just afraid you wouldn’t come back. I stick out like a sore thumb here.”

Wonyoung frowned, “No you don’t, Y/N. I don’t think a single person here batted an eye while I was gone.”

“You were gone,” you teased, “how would you know?”

“I know lots of things,” she commented, “I know lots and lots of things.”

You bounced the tennis ball on the court as you laughed at her words, “Whatever you say.”

After about five minutes of warming up and a dirty look exchanged with Jungwon later, Wonyoung announced, “Okay, let’s get to playing! Do we wanna do singles or doubles?”

“Let’s do doubles,” Taesan said, walking towards the net. He patted Jungwon on the back, “and Jungwon, you can be partners with Y/N. Is that okay with you guys?”

Wonyoung turned to you, “It’s fine with me as long as you’re okay with it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Taesan started walking over to Wonyoung, so you took that as your cue to go ahead and walk to the side Jungwon was on. Even though you knew Jungwon wasn’t your biggest fan, you still attempted formalities with him.

“Good luck,” you commented, looking at him. You sent him a little smile, “I’ll play to the best of my ability, but I don’t play often. So, sorry in advance.”

“I’m not surprised.” Jungwon replied under his breath, thinking that you wouldn’t hear. You decided to just ignore him and play to the best of your ability, like you said you would.

The first game started with Wonyoung serving and you receiving, but the first game was cut relatively short with an easy 40-15 that ended in your team’s loss.

The rest of the games of the first set ended very similarly, to no surprise. Wonyoung’s family owned the country club. Of course she would be good at the game.

So far, you and Jungwon had only won two sets out of the seven played. Wonyoung and Taesan only needed to win one more set to win the match.

Jungwon, quite obviously, was extremely frustrated at this loss. Very early on, you’d learned that he was a sore loser, and that you being bad at tennis definitely wasn’t helping soothe his anger.

After the final set that ended up in, surprise, a win for Wonyoung and Taesan, the two winners went to take a quick victory break while they left you and Jungwon to “discuss game strategies” as they phrased it.

In the three minutes that they’d been gone, no words were exchanged between you and Jungwon. He was just repeatedly slamming the tennis ball into the court and catching it when it bounced back. The air was tense, but you still tried to make conversation.

“Sorry about that.”

“Your horrible playing?” Jungwon snidely remarked, “Yeah. Thanks for the apology, but that doesn’t change that you’re making us lose.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “You’re acting like this is life or death. It’s just tennis.”

“Yeah, it may be just tennis to you. But some people, of… higher class… take it more seriously than people like you would. So I don’t expect you to understand.”

“People like me?!” You laughed incredulously, surprised at his audacity. You tried your best to keep your voice down to not draw any attention towards you two, but with his attitude, it was difficult.

“Yeah, people like you. Did I stutter?” He asked snarky.

Your words got caught in your mouth- most of the time when people were mean to you, you’d just either ask them what they said (even when you’d heard it) or you’d repeat what they said to you, and that usually made them back off. Clearly this wasn’t the case for Jungwon, though, as he was completely okay with repeating himself and not even thinking twice about what he said to you. You groaned, turning away from him, “You’re not nice.”

“And you’re bad at tennis.”

“At least I’m good at math…” you trailed off, semi-hoping that he wouldn’t hear. You were better than Jungwon when it came to math, and that was a sensitive topic for him. But, if he wanted to ridicule your tennis-playing skills, then you would ridicule his mathematical abilities.

The tennis ball that was being aggressively bounced into the court stopped. You didn’t need to look at Jungwon to know his eyes were boring holes into the back of your head.

“What did you say?” Jungwon seethed out, taking a step closer to you.

“Nothing…” you trailed off, facing him, “it’s just that… I don’t need to be good at tennis. I’m smart.”

“Psh.” Jungwon rolled his eyes at you, “At least my parents can pay for good schooling. Sucks that yours have to mooch off of a scholarship.”

You rolled your eyes back, very slightly raising your voice at him, “Yeah. Imagine your parents having to pay for the same schooling that I get. And I get it for free.”

Before any more words could be exchanged, Wonyoung and Taesan returned with canned drinks, one in each hand for the both of them and for you and Jungwon. Wonyoung smiled, “We brought you guys back something to drink!”

You felt most of your anger dissipate at Wonyoung’s return, smiling at her. She and Taesan entered the courts once again and you met her in the middle, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Taesan also brought something for Jungwon.”

You nodded as she handed you the beverage, cracking it open and taking a drink. The cold liquid felt like a good refresher to the heated argument that was just beginning to unfold minutes ago.

“I’m glad that you and Jungwon seem to be getting along.” Wonyoung commented, nearly making you choke on the drink. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ears, “You guys wouldn’t make a bad couple.”

ii. SO SIT BACK AND WATCH THE BED BURN

You rolled yourself across your twin-sized mattress as you turned to face your two best friends, Minji and Gyuvin. You’d called them over to your family’s apartment to catch up, which was a much needed occasion, as you three hadn’t had much time to talk recently.

Minji and Gyuvin had just entered your bedroom door and stepped into your room, which was littered in posters, pictures, and art. Your room had always been cluttered (or “used to its maximum capacity” as your mother liked to phrase it) like this so your best friends weren’t surprised at anything when they walked in.

“Thanks for knocking.” You sarcastically remarked, pushing yourself onto your forearms to look at them. You watched as your two friends made their ways to the area in front of the foot of your bed, and saw as Minji took a seat on the rug on your floor. Gyuvin opted to take your desk chair and roll it to sit next to Minji, yet be eye-level with you.

“You look stressed,” Gyuvin commented, teasing you, “but what else is new.”

You flopped your face into your bed and let out a muffled and sarcastic, “Ha, ha.”

You heard a smacking sound and then an “Ow!” from Gyuvin. Minji stood up and made you scoot over so she could lay next to you in your bed, “Ignore him. His panties are in a twist right now for some reason.”

You turned your head to the left to look at her for a moment before dramatically flopping back into the mattress.

Minji patted your head, “What’s wrong, Y/N? You’re not usually this dramatic when we come over.”

Gyuvin stifled a laugh before quieting as soon as Minji sent him a pointed look.

You dramatically rolled over to face the ceiling of your room, “Why are boys so horrible?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you have a crush,” Minji groaned, “I’m no good with those.”

“No, no!” You rushed to correct her, not missing how Gyuvin was taunting in the mean time. He sung, “Ooh~ Y/N has a crush!”

“He is not a crush! He’s the worst person I’ve ever met!”

“Come on, Y/N,” Minji poked you, “he can’t be the worst person you’ve ever met. Think about Gyuvin!”

You rolled your eyes at Gyuvin, who was still taunting you with his song, “Gyuvin, shut the hell up!”

You watched as Minji lifted a hand that threatened to fall onto Gyuvin’s exposed thigh, and to which Gyuvin immediately shut up.

“What guy are you talking about?” Minji asked, looking back down at you.

“He’s this guy from the new school. He’s such an asshole to me for no reason. I mean, there might be a reason, but I can’t think of a valid one.”

“What does he do?” Gyuvin pitched in, finally getting his attention piqued from the conversation at hand.

“Like, everything?” You let out, “I’m not even sure where to start.”

“Saying ‘everything’ gives us no idea what this guy does, Y/N.”

You groaned dramatically before filling your friends in on the entire situation with Jungwon:

“I haven’t really told you guys about this guy before,” you started, using your hands to explain your story. Minji nodded as you told your story, while Gyuvin was spinning in his chair endlessly. You continued, “but there’s a guy at the new school, his name is Jungwon. Yang Jungwon.”

“Yang Y/N~” Gyuvin teased. Minji reached over to harshly smack his leg.

You rolled your eyes, “Anyways, he’s basically the worst person I’ve ever met. His dad runs a corporation of local gas stations, so he’s basically filthy rich. I say this because not only is he like every other private school kid that makes fun of my wealth status, but he’s also threatened to sue my parents multiple times. Most of the time he has no reason.

“The reason I’m so particularly upset about him is because I went to my school friends’ country club. You guys remember Wonyoung?” They both nodded, because as Wonyoung was your closest private school friend, of course your actual closest friends knew about her existence.

“Okay,” you said, “so we were at her country club, but her boyfriend and his friend are also there, and you’ll never guess who the friend is! Jungwon!

“He’s an ass to me basically the whole time while I’ve been trying to be nice to him,” you sighed, “I don’t know what his problem is. I didn’t even do anything to him. Anyways, we were partnered up because we were playing doubles tennis at the country club, because Wonyoung wanted to be on the same team as her boyfriend. That’s understandable, and I haven’t held it against her or anything. But he is not only a sore loser, but just a jerk to me.”

Minji nodded in sympathy at you while Gyuvin made his presence known, “Kill him. Easy as that.”

“You’re sick in the head, you know that?” MInji questioned him.

“He’s a private school kid, Y/N.” Gyuvin said, standing up from the chair to stand over you. “I really don’t know what you’re expecting from someone like him. He’s probably never been told ‘No’ in his life.”

“I’m also a private school kid…” you murmured.

“Yeah, but you weren’t brought up that way. He undoubtedly was.” Gyuvin said.

You nodded, “You’re right.”

“Always am.”

“The problem is that it’s my senior year,” you lamented, “and I don’t want it to be bad just because some pest can’t leave me alone. I just don’t know how to get rid of him.”

“You could always drop out.” Gyuvin offered, going to sit back down in the chair.

“That’s a horrible idea,” Minji said, “don’t listen to him. I’m sure that as long as you don’t pay much mind to this Jungwon guy then you’ll be fine. Plus, you have Wonyoung. They’re basically the same height, and she could probably beat him in a fight.”

You laughed, “I don’t know, I like Wonyoung a lot, but she’s basically Ivy Hills royalty. She has a reputation to manage. I’m sure fighting with Jungwon wouldn’t do her much good.”

“I would pay money to see that fight.” Gyuvin announced.

“You’re weird.”

“My mind is an enigma. I wouldn’t expect commonfolk like you to understand.”

iii. JUST SO FRUSTRATING

The halls of Ivy Hills Private Academy never failed to make your head hurt.

The utter abundance of students flooding the halls and blocking every locker at 7:30am was absolutely astounding to you. Not one person there paid any mind to you, and if by chance they did, it was a slight shove or a snarky comment. The bright, fluorescent lights surely didn’t help. You tried your hardest to blend into the background, but even though you were donned in the same uniform as all your peers, somehow you still stuck out like a sore thumb to them. It was almost like they could feel your class difference radiating off of you.

Wonyoung was one of the only people who made you feel normal. The only way that others would treat you kindly was if she was also present, since she was basically the school’s princess. You had just received a text from her that read:

good morning !! do you wanna get some food this weekend? it’s on me :)

You had no idea what your plans were for the weekend; it was only Tuesday after all. But you were sure that as long as you weren’t scheduled to work, you’d be doing nothing else. Besides, Wonyoung was always great to be around. You had yet to respond to her text, needing to not only check your schedule but also run the plans by your parents before you acted on anything. They really liked Wonyoung, so you doubted there would be a problem, but it was always best to check.

You sighed, tucking your phone into your bag while walking to your locker. You were mandated to keep your phone stowed away somewhere, and as a student at the school with a scholarship, you wanted to abide by any rules. You couldn’t risk the possibility of getting the scholarship pulled from you; you didn’t have the privilege to keep the school quiet with monetary bribes like others did. You snapped out of your train of thought and started to unlock your locker to put the majority of your textbooks away. The first class on your schedule was AP Calculus BC, one of the tougher classes at Ivy Hills, but you found it relatively easy.

Of course, it was one of the classes you shared with Jungwon.

It would be okay. You’d just do your best to not get into any quarrels with him.

You left your locker and walked quickly to your Calculus class, wasting no time to converse with others or engage in any sort of interaction with them. The Calculus class was only a hallway down from your locker, but it would still be difficult to get in there quickly with the amount of students crowding the halls. You cradled your school bag in your arms and tried your best to not run into anyone.

The AP Calculus BC teacher was possibly the stingiest educator you’d ever witnessed. She refused to let people turn anything in late, she refused to give extensions, and she refused to accept wrong answers. You’d learned this very early on in her class; one of your female peers forgot to turn her homework packet until the end of the bell, and your teacher almost didn’t even let her turn it in. You were sure she only let the girl turn it in due to the amount of points the packet was worth, and a lack of turning it in would surely result in a failing grade in the class.

You quickly found your assigned seat near the window on the far wall. The sun was still rising above the horizon, and your window seat gave a beautiful view of the sight. The sunlight spilled into the room like a calm water fountain, leaving you smiling without realizing.

Sitting down at your desk, you placed your bag to the right of your seat and opened it to pull out your binder, textbook, calculator, and a pencil. You usually opted to use mechanical pencils, but they’d all somehow gone missing, so you were forced to use a wooden one. You grabbed your pencil sharpener from your bag just to be safe.

As you lifted your head back up, you saw a face that nearly made you jump. It was Yang Jungwon, who happened to have an assigned seat right next to you in this class. Just your luck. It made sense, having the two smartest people in the class next to each other. Your teacher didn’t have to worry about any cheating on tests, at the very least.

Jungwon had one strap of his backpack looped around his right shoulder and the left side was just hanging. He was talking with some friends. You didn’t know their names, yet you were positive that they’d at least called you ‘poor’ once before. Not surprising coming from friends of Jungwon.

You started pulling out a work packet from your binder and flipped to the page in the textbook that the teacher had written on the board: 295. Sure, class hadn’t started yet, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t get ready for it to start. You were eager to finish this last unit; the last month or so of class would be spent reviewing for the AP test. You were nearly positive you’d receive a score of five.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Jungwon make his way to his desk, the one to your right. He sneered at your presence, “Already got your stuff out, huh? God, what a nerd.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “Thanks. We’re in the same class so that also makes you a nerd.”

“There’s still time until class starts,” he said, “no need to get your stuff out ten minutes early.”

“No need to be a prick ten minutes early. Come bother me during school hours, Jungwon. Give me my ten minutes of peace while I still have them.”

Surprisingly to you, he turned away and stopped himself from snapping back.

Your ten minutes of peace quickly felt like thirty seconds when Jungwon returned to his seat at the beginning of class.

Your teacher had immediately tasked you and your classmates with pairing up with the four people closest to you; your group was you, Jungwon, a girl named Sull Yoona, and another boy named Leehan. The aforementioned two weren’t the kindest to you, but when compared with how Jungwon treated you, you were a dutchess. The groups were assigned to work on the work packet and solve fifteen problems by the end of the class period, which was roughly an hour away. You dreaded what was to come, but sucked it up. Yoona and Leehan were smart enough. Plus, conversations would be minimal anyways.

The answers you all shared majorly coincided with one another, yet there was one — problem 13 — where Jungwon and Leehan got a different answer, and refused to change their answers to fit yours. You didn’t care too much, you were sure that your and Yoona’s answer was the correct one.

“Jungwon,” you tried to reason, “the question isn’t asking for the distance traveled. It’s asking for the displacement.”

“I’m not listening to you, Y/N.” He huffed, “You tried to tell us that the last question’s answer was that the limit does not exist.”

“Okay,” you admitted, “I made a calculation error. But I’m sure that I’m right about this one.”

“I don’t care. We’ll see who’s right at the end of class.”

Another fifteen minutes passed and there was ten minutes left of class, and as most of your classmates had finished, your teacher called on a different group for each problem to answer and explain how they got what they did.

When the teacher got to question 13, it was your group’s turn to answer. Jungwon immediately stepped up to the question. His answer, which he announced confidently, was “8 meters”.

Your teacher frowned at Jungwon, “That is not the correct answer. Can someone else from the group answer differently? And maybe correctly this time? How about Y/N?”

You smiled at your teacher, “I got -5 1/3 meters.”

“That is correct. Thank you, Y/N.”

You didn’t miss how Jungwon gave you a nasty side eye when you answered correctly. The teacher quickly moved onto the next group with question 14.

Wanting to push his buttons slightly more, you leaned to your right and whispered, “I hope you realize I got into this school for a reason.”

iv. YOU CALL THE SHOTS

It was now Saturday: the day that Wonyoung had asked you to get food with her. Over the week you’d agreed to go get lunch with her on Saturday, and decided on a locally owned Italian restaurant to eat at.

It was a complete shock to you to find out that Taesan and Jungwon were also going to be at this lunch.

Wonyoung didn’t tell you, and you were sure there was no malicious intent, but the irony of this happening to you twice was slowly chipping away at your sanity.

When you arrived at the restaurant to find Jungwon and Taesan already waiting for you two, you fought every urge in your body to roll your eyes at Jungwon’s presence.

“You’re here!” Taesan called once he laid his eyes on Wonyoung. He embraced her quickly before turning to you, “Hello, Y/N. Great seeing you too.” There were no hints of sarcasm in his words, but you weren’t sure how great you felt seeing him. Not like you hated Taesan, but the growth that followed him around (Jungwon) definitely didn’t make you happy.

As if on cue, the host came back with menus and led the four of you to your table. When Wonyoung had mentioned food, you made the wrong assumption of going somewhere casual; the fact that Wonyoung was filthy rich somehow slipped your mind. There was no way you could afford most of the items they sold here, but since Wonyoung was paying, you let yourself relax a bit.

Wonyoung and Taesan were the two that are following closest behind the host, leaving you and Jungwon to be the last two in the group. You tried your best to slightly trail behind him, not wanting any altercations (especially in front of Wonyoung), but to your dismay, Jungwon had other plans in mind.

He slowed his pace just slightly to make a little snarky remark, “I hope you know that if Wonyoung wasn’t your wallet, you’d never step foot in any place like this.”

His words hurt, but it wasn’t anything that you weren’t already used to. You ignored him and picked up your pace slightly.

When you reached the table, Wonyoung and Taesan (unsurprisingly) chose to sit next to each other, leaving you and Jungwon to occupy the remaining seats. You braced yourself for what you thought would be a peaceful lunch turning into a living Hell.

Lunch, shockingly, went a lot smoother than you had anticipated it would be. Jungwon mostly kept his comments under wraps, and nothing he said was hurtful enough to actually provoke you into retorting with something potentially worse.

Near the end of the meal, Wonyoung excused herself to go to the bathroom. Seeing this as the perfect opportunity to finally be able to talk to her without the boys around, you leapt up and joined her.

Once in the bathroom, Wonyoung immediately went into a stall while you stood in front of the luxurious sink. You adjusted your clothes and some of your makeup while she occupied herself.

Once the toilet flushed and you were sure there wasn’t anyone else in the bathroom, you spoke up and finally popped a question to Wonyoung:

“Can I ask you something?”

Wonyoung emerged from the stall and walked to the sink next to the one you occupied. She turned on the water, “Sure, what’s up?”

“How come you haven’t been telling me when Jungwon and Taesan will be joining us at stuff? I don’t mind it all too much, but I feel like I’m being led into it blindfolded instead.”

“Oh, I-” she stopped herself, an indecipherable look on her face. She finished washing her hands and turned to you, “I’m sorry about not telling you, first of all. I’ll make sure to be more transparent about it in the future.”

“Thank you,” you said, “but my question is why are they there all the time? I understand Taesan; that’s your boyfriend. But Jungwon and I have no relation outside of being the assumed valedictorian and salutatorian of our graduating class.”

“Well,” Wonyoung smiled, “Taesan and I just think you guys are so cute together. Like, not only are you both geniuses, but you’re also both Taesan’s and my respective closest friends!”

You tilted your head, wanting her to continue.

“Listen, Y/N.” She grabbed your hand, her cold and dainty hands wrapping themselves around your right one. She smiled genuinely, “You’ve just been able to help me so much, so I want to return the favor! You deserve someone like Jungwon. He’s smart, he’s a gentleman, his dad has a lot of power, he’s athletic.”

You pursed your lips at her.

“Plus,” she continued, “with you two being the most intelligent students in the school, can you imagine the cute study dates? I’m just getting giddy thinking about it!!”

“Wonyoung…” you started carefully, “I think I’m okay. I should probably worry more about school than any potential relationship right now anyways.”

“If you say so,” Wonyoung removed her hands from yours, “but I’m still rooting for this. The second you tell me to back off, I will, but for now, Taesan and I are going to try to help you two from the sidelines.”

v. HOPE YOU DON’T REGRET IT

The following day, you, Minji, and Gyuvin were all situated at Minji’s house, in her living room. Minji was sitting in an armchair, Gyuvin was on the sofa, and you were sprawled out on the floor, in yet another dramatic mood.

You recapped your two best friends on the incidental Saturday lunch, not missing any details. Starting from the presence of Jungwon, and especially up to the comment Wonyoung made about you two getting together. The whole entire story was crazy to you and reliving it through your storytelling made you almost shiver in fear.

“And she went, ‘we will help you from the sidelines’,” you lamented, “like who says that?! I get that she has no idea about the rivalry, but he and I aren’t even cute together. He’s short.”

Gyuvin let out a hearty laugh at your comment, “Y/N, if he’s short, then you are also short.”

“Besides the point!”

“Your life does not even sound real,” Minji said, “and it’s so hard to not laugh, I’m sorry.”

You groaned from your spot on the floor, sending Minji a side eye, “Is my life some joke to you two?!”

“A little bit.” Gyuvin laughed out.

You rolled your eyes and flipped over onto your stomach, “This is so not funny.”

“Have you thought about just telling Wonyoung to back off?” Minji asked.

“Yeah, I have, thanks.” You replied to her sarcastically. You craned your neck to look at your best friend, “I haven’t done it because I know for a fact she would ask why. And I don’t wanna get into all of that, especially because her boyfriend is best friends with the devil in question.”

Minji snorted, “You two should just fake date. That’d get Wonyoung to back off.”

You immediately sat up, “Are you crazy?! Absolutely not!”

Gyuvin agreed from his spot, “Minji has a point. Maybe you two could even become friends along the way.”

Shaking your head profusely, you shot a look at Gyuvin, then at Minji, “You guys are crazy.”

“What if,” Minji proposed, “you did it for money? You just told us about how your workplace is shutting down. Plus, you need the money. You’re broke as fuck.”

“Ouch.”

“She’s right, I hate to admit it.” Gyuvin said, shrugging.

“Oh, absolutely not. I may be broke but not broke enough to date Yang Jungwon, even if it’s fake.”

“How about this?” Gyuvin challenged, “If you can successfully fake date this guy until your pretentious-ass Ivy Hills Ball dance in a couple weeks, I’ll give you $50. But only if you also go to the dance with him.”

“It’s like you want me to kill myself.”

“I’ll also give you $50.” Minji said, raising her eyebrows.

The Ivy Hills Ball dance was essentially a more talked-up prom, but from what you’d heard, it was held in an old music hall and the funding was insane. To have that experience be ruined by having Jungwon as a date did not sound enticing in the slightest, but $100 dollars did.

Plus, Gyuvin was right. It would only be a couple weeks.

“You guys drive a hard fucking bargain, I hate you two.”

“Damn,” Gyuvin laughed, “your ass really is broke. $100 to date your alleged enemy, and you’re sold.”

“I haven’t agreed!” You reasoned, trying to defend yourself.

“We both know you will, Y/N.” Minji cocked an eyebrow.

“I really, really hate you two.”

vi. YOU GAVE A KICK, I GAVE A SLAP

Any consideration you had towards fake dating Jungwon was almost thrown out the window on the next Wednesday.

It was your AP Physics bell, which, surprise, was shared with Jungwon.

After almost trying to embarrass you in front of the class (yet luckily failing), you had to fight every urge inside to not curse him out right in that moment.

You breathed heavily out at him, “Jungwon, if you keep bothering Hanni and I, we’ll never finish this lab. And neither will you.”

“You say that like you’re smart enough to finish this lab even if I wasn’t bothering you.”

You didn’t miss how Hanni immediately widened her eyes and focused her attention back onto her lab notebook. Other classmates’ attention was caught from Jungwon’s loud comment, making your face flush a bright red.

Breathing out heavily, you sent Jungwon the most nasty look you could muster. Blinking once at him, “Shut up, Yang. Shut up for once in your goddamn life.”

Jungwon cocked an eyebrow at you, slightly smirking. He placed down his pencil, “Why don’t you make me?”

You started at him, not breaking eye contact. Of course you couldn’t ‘make him’ shut up, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying to kill him with your gaze.

“That’s what I thought,” he remarked, “all bark but no bite. Typical Y/N.”

“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

vii. AND I CAN’T LOOK YOU IN THE EYES

The following weekend, you found yourself at Wonyoung’s mansion with Taesan and Jungwon. This time, Wonyoung had warned you that Jungwon and Taesan would be present, yet you still decided to go. Because who was Yang Jungwon to dictate when you could and couldn’t hang out with Wonyoung?

Wonyoung had recently opened her pool back up and invited the three of you over to be the first to swim in it. You happily accepted, having no other plans for the day and promising yourself that you wouldn’t let Jungwon’s presence bother you.

While in the pool, you kept letting your mind drift to the bet that Minji and Gyuvin had proposed to you earlier that week. The $100 sounded really appealing, and potentially getting Wonyoung off your back about getting you and Jungwon together would also be nice.

Noticing your distancing, Wonyoung swam up to you, “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at her, “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine, just thinking.”

She nodded at you while you pondered whether taking a break inside would be good to clear your mind for the time being. You decided that at the moment, that seemed best. You spoke again, “Actually, I think I’m gonna go inside to get a drink. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, “of course. Make sure to dry off well before you go in though.”

You nodded at her, watching her swim away back to Taesan while you swam to the pool steps and got out. You quickly found your towel and sandals, then went to the door that led back into the house.

You wrapped the towel around your shoulders and dried your feet on the bath mat that the Jangs had outside their home. Opening the door, you took one last look at the three in the pool, accidentally locking eyes with Jungwon. You furrowed your eyebrows and entered the house.

You entered the house of your friend and approached the kitchen where there was lemon water waiting in a pitcher. Of course, the rich family drank lemon water. You put ice into your newly found cup and sighed. While pouring yourself a glass, you heard the back door open and close again, signifying someone was also coming inside the house. You hoped it was Wonyoung, or even Taesan, but you were disappointed when you saw Jungwon’s figure walk towards the kitchen.

At his presence, your mind came back to the bet. You really needed the money right now, and getting Wonyoung off your back about him would also be a major plus.

Jungwon strode his way into the kitchen, passing you to grab a can of what appeared to be some seltzer water. His hair was still wet and his body was damp, him having done an obviously half-assed job at drying himself off. His towel was wrapped around his waist, but what drew you in was his body. Had he always had this attractive of a figure?

“I think you have a staring problem.” He said, smirking at you and making you snap out of your daze. You cleared your throat and felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“I don’t,” you clarified, “I was just… spacing out.”

“Sure.”

A layer of silence fell over the two of you, you avoiding looking at Jungwon in order to not inflate his ego any further. Your mind went back to the bet. Would this be an appropriate time?

You quickly decided, fuck it, and cleared your throat once more to get his attention, “Jungwon.”

He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated breath through his nose, but answered, “What?”

“I, um,” you tried to find the words, “I have a really.. interesting.. hypothetical for you. Could be good, could be bad, just- a hypothetical.”

He raised an eyebrow at you questioningly, “Go on…”

“So,” you got a hold of yourself finally. This was just Jungwon you were talking to; if he declined your suggestion to the bet, you’d live. You looked at him, “I can’t be the only one that’s being bothered by Wonyoung and Taesan about the two of us getting together, right?”

Jungwon paused but then answered, “You aren’t.”

“Okay,” you continued, “so I recently saw some of my closest friends and they know about the whole thing. They came up with the proposal for you and I to fake date. Before you say anything, I’m not exactly thrilled either, but I think it would work. I’m sure you’re not too happy to be forced to be around me all the time either.”

“I feel like there’s an ulterior motive here,” Jungwon replied, “so tell me what it is you’re gaining out of this.”

“Getting Wonyoung off my back, of course. I also may be getting paid $100 by my friends to fake date you.”

“Why would you be getting paid?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“They know we don’t like each other, so they think it’s funny. They said if we successfully date until the dance, I’ll get the money.”

“This sounds really stupid.” Jungwon said, disgusted.

“I’ll give you half the money,” you offered, “I promise.”

Jungwon scoffed, “You think I need the money? Funny joke.”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, rich boy,” you started walking back towards the door that went to the pool, “whatever. As long as you’re fine with Wonyoung and Taesan never leaving us alone, then suit yourself.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning over your shoulder to finish your ment:

“I didn’t expect you of all people to say yes, anyway.”

You watched as Jungwon cocked an eyebrow, his tongue prodding his cheek. He swallowed, taking quick steps toward you before you could open the door.

“Y/N,” he said, suddenly sounding challenged, “wait. Let’s discuss this.”

viii. IT’S JUST WHAT YOU DO

The following Monday, you were sat next to Jungwon in your Calculus class, supposedly listening to a lecture. Having not discussed the concrete rules with Jungwon yet, you decided that passing him a note to ask about if talking them through after class would be alright with him.

You ripped a corner off of your notebook paper and quickly scribbled down:

Hey. Do u wanna discuss the rules after class?

As discreetly as possible, you tapped Jungwon on the sleeve of his uniform and when he turned his head, you handed him the note. He gave you a wide-eyed look but grabbed the paper anyway.

You turned your head back to your teacher, but moments later your attention was taken by Jungwon, who had tapped on your arm instead this time. You read his handwriting:

What rules

Was he dumb? How he could be so good at math but so socially unaware was astonishing to you.

You flipped the small piece of paper once and wrote your response:

For fake dating? We need to establish rules. Unless you’ve already chickened out …

You passed the slip back to Jungwon.

Within seconds, he handed the paper back to you. His response read:

I didn’t chicken out. We don’t have much time between classes but as long as you’re fine walking the same way as me we can do it then. Make it quick though. I don’t want to be seen with you if I don’t have to be.

You stifled a laugh, and quickly wrote back:

You agreed to this, man. You’re gonna have to get used to being seen with me anyways

Jungwon read your written message and rolled his eyes. He crumpled the paper up and shoved it somewhere in his bag, never to be seen again.

Minutes later, the bell rang. You packed up your items and waited for Jungwon to finish packing his up so you could leave the class. Once finished, he started, “So?”

“Let’s walk and talk,” you said, leading the way. Jungwon was quickly on your heels. You shrugged, “the hallways will be too loud for people to overhear anyway.”

Jungwon nodded and speedily made his way next to your side in the hallway. You were right, not only was it loud, but no one would be paying any mind to you two anyway. At least hopefully.

“First off, if anyone asks, from this moment on, you and I are dating, okay?”

Jungwon breathed out a little sigh and pursed his lips, “Yep. Let’s get onto the rules now. We’ve only got so much time.”

“Okay,” you started, “first rule: this only goes until the dance. We’ll go to the dance as each other’s dates, and after that, we can ‘break up’.”

For once in his life, Jungwon agreed with you, “Sounds fine to me.”

“Great. Have any ideas for rule two?”

“Uh…” he paused, trailing off in thought. “Hm. Who is allowed to know that we’re fake dating?”

“I mean, ideally no one. But because my two other friends know, I feel like as long as it’s someone you trust that’s not close with Wonyoung or Taesan then it should be fine for you to tell them. I can’t control what you do, though, so do whatever you want, I guess.”

“Okay,” he said, “so rule two: keep it on the down-low.”

You nodded your head at him, “I have a suggestion for rule three.”

“Go ahead.”

“We can do some PDA, but kissing is unnecessary.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay,” you continued, “rule four: if we need to ‘break up’ for any serious reason before the dance, that’s okay. We just need to let the other person know before we stage a break up.”

Jungwon nodded again, then turned his head to the left, “My class is over this way. We can message later about this.”

“Okay, see you.”

Jungwon walked into the classroom on the left and within moments, Wonyoung made her way to your side.

“Where did you come from?” You asked, surprised at her presence.

“I was walking behind you this whole time. Since when did you start going this way?”

You shrugged, “Since now.”

She painted a cheeky smile on her face, “And?”

“And what?”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you walking with Jungwon, Y/N! What was that about?!”

You feigned innocence, “Oh, nothing. Y’know.”

“I don’t,” she said, smiling widely, “I really don’t. Spill.”

“Well,” you replied, “I dunno, what do you think?”

“I think you two should date.”

You offered no response and just let your face form into a smile. Wonyoung’s eyes widened at you, “Y/N L/N. Don’t tell me.”

“Tell you what?” You responded with a smirk.

“There’s no way!” She freaked out, “You guys are dating?!”

“Possibly.”

“Y/N! I’m so happy!” Wonyoung smiled at you and grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. This was the most excited you’d ever seen her.

“I am too.” You said, “Could you maybe keep it on the down-low for now though? It’s really new.”

“Yeah, of course! Can I tell Taesan?”

“Go ahead, yeah,” you smiled at her, “I think he’d be pretty stoked too.”

Wonyoung pulled out her phone to text her boyfriend and a small silence settled between you two. Wonyoung was the first to break the silence once she sent the message:

“So, I was right about you two being cute together.”

You laughed, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Wonyoung.”

ix. MAKE UP YOUR MIND

It was already a week and a half into the fake relationship and you felt like your sanity was slowly slipping away from you.

Jungwon played soccer all year long, you’d learned, and you’d started going to his games and practices. Aside from the practices as a whole being excruciatingly boring, the games weren’t bad at all. You had to admit, Jungwon was good at what he did. He had four practices during the week and two on the weekend. In the time since you’d started going to see Jungwon outside of school hours, you’d learned that he could be tolerable sometimes. Emphasis on ‘sometimes’.

You’d also learned that he was a very good actor. His teammates immediately accepted you as Jungwon’s girlfriend, and as a result, you’d earned an honorific position on the team.

It definitely helped that you could make small talk and pre-event plans when Jungwon drove you places in his expensive car. His car was probably more expensive than your family’s whole apartment.

But here you were, sitting on the bleachers at around 7pm on Tuesday night, watching Jungwon and his teammates practice. There were only about fifteen minutes left of practice, and then you were free to go home and potentially regret every decision you’d ever made.

The bright lights of the field were giving you a headache and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to handle this. You took a look at where Jungwon was located on the field, taking note of his focused face as he listened to his coach. Jungwon was one of the better players on the team, and it was evident to you because of the way he talked so passionately about the game. You hated to admit, but it was nice to see him talk so fondly about something for once rather than make unprovoked mean comments towards you.

Around five minutes later, Jungwon and the team suddenly dispersed from their coach and walked towards their bags. You rested your chin on your hand and watched his figure start making its way towards you. He slung his bag over his shoulder and jogged slowly to your spot on the bleachers.

Once he reached the barrier between you and the field, he sighed, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you said, “how was practice?”

Ever since you’d started ‘dating’ Jungwon, you’d made a point to try (at the very least) to be kind to him, even if it wasn’t in front of other people. You hoped that maybe through being kind to him, it might make him be kind back. Hopefully that would make the whole fake dating process a whole lot easier.

“It was fine,” he was short with his answer, yet not necessarily cold for once, “I’m tired.”

“You look like it.” You stood up from your spot on the bleachers and walked towards the barrier to meet Jungwon in the middle.

He checked his watch, “It’s good that we got out early. I have a shit ton of Calc work to do.”

Walking out from behind the barrier, you met Jungwon. He started walking to his car and you quickly followed.

“The packet?” You questioned, picking up the pace to match with his.

You and all your classmates had your work packet that was due the following day, which was Friday. You had already finished the packet a couple days ago and had turned it into your teacher, wanting to get it off of your mind if it was out of your sight.

“Yeah,” he said, “do you have the answers?”

“I don’t have them, no,” you admitted, “I already turned my packet.”

“Shit,” he quietly exclaimed, “I don’t know how to do most of them.”

“Oh,” you replied, “I do. I’m sorry that I don’t have answers.”

“It’s fine,” he rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, it looked like Jungwon got an idea.

He turned to you, “Wait. Are you doing anything after this?”

You racked your brain to think of anything, but nothing came to mind. You turned to look at him, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Do you wanna come over and help me?”

“To your house?” You questioned.

“Yeah,” he said, confused, “where else?”

“Oh,” you said, surprised, “are you sure you’d want me there?”

“It’s fine,” he replied, “it’s just this once.”

“I mean I guess so…” you pondered, “I don’t know. It’s a school night.”

Jungwon checked his watch again, “It’s only 7:09, I don’t think it should be too bad. Unless you have a curfew?”

“I don’t…” you admitted, “I guess I could help you. But I don’t want to make you drive me there and then have to drive me all the way back home. You already picked me up, plus it’s out of the way for you.”

“Consider me driving you as a payment for you helping me… I really need the help, and would appreciate it. You’re smart.”

For the first time ever, Jungwon complimented you. It left you in a state of shock, to put it simply; you had never expected to hear Jungwon compliment you, even while fake dating.

“Thanks,” you said, “I’ll help you.”

He said nothing more as the two of you finally reached his car. He loaded his soccer bag into the back of the car and opened the drivers side door, beckoning for you to do the same.

“I don’t live far from here,” he started the car, “so it’ll be a quick drive.”

You nodded in your spot while Jungwon reversed out of his parking spot. He shifted the car into drive and quickly pulled out of the school parking lot.

Like Jungwon said, the drive was extremely quick. It was only around three minutes, so Jungwon didn’t even bother putting on the radio. He opted instead to roll down the window and not speak.

You really shouldn’t have been surprised by Jungwon’s family estate. Given just by how much money his car seemed to cost, the grandeur of his home should not have come as a shock to you. But it still did.

The gate at the beginning of the driveway seemed inviting; it looked purposefully worn down. The somewhat dingy look of something that was probably not even a year old welcomed you in, in a sense.

The driveway looked freshly paved, the black color not ever changing from erosion. There wasn’t a single crack in the pavement, and it was lined with white pillars that had lamp light illuminating from the top.

Further up the driveway, you could see four other cars. Thinking about the total cost of all the vehicles combined sent a shiver down your spine.

The house itself, which was to the left, could barely even get by being called a “house”. It was easily more than ten times the size of your family’s apartment, and if not for the trees that surrounded it, you’d assume it was a lot taller than it actually was.

The brick was white and the front of the house had pillars driving up and down to support a black roof. The lights in the house were off, giving a stark contrast to the otherwise homely feel of the entrance.

Jungwon pulled the car into the parking spot closest to the house. Once parked, he loaded himself out and went to the back seat to grab his soccer gear.

“No one’s home but us,” he said, “but my parents have cameras everywhere, so we’ll go through the garage. Leave your shoes on the doormat.”

Jungwon led you through the garage, then into the large kitchen, followed by a large living space. He then flipped on a light switch and walked you to the foyer, which was a high-ceilinged room with white walls and stairs that cascaded towards the second floor. The balcony of the second floor overlooked the foyer, and there was a large chandelier hung at the top of the ceiling.

Jungwon beckoned you towards the hardwood steps, “My room’s upstairs.”

Your attention was brought away from the chandelier and you followed as Jungwon ascended the steps towards his room. At the top of the steps, there was a hallway that extended both left and right, and there was also the other side of the balcony.

This side of the balcony overlooked a different living space, but you didn’t get a good look at it before Jungwon tried to disappear out of your sight towards the right hand side of the hallway.

He passed by a few rooms with closed doors before opening the door to the final one on the right. Jungwon walked in first and left the door open for you to enter.

His room was just as large as you anticipated it to be, with large windows on two sides of the room and a king-sized mattress in the corner of the space. You bit back any comments about the size of his bed; he was a short man, why did he need that much space?

Jungwon turned on the lamp next to his bed and dropped his soccer bags at the foot of the bedframe. His backpack was lying right in front of the bedside table, already opened. You could assume that he’d already tried to start the Calculus work yet failed. Hence why you’d needed to come over to help.

Jungwon sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his backpack onto it. You stood very awkwardly in front of him, not sure what to do; you were almost waiting for instruction from him.

Jungwon scooted back on the bed with his backpack to make room for you. He beckoned towards the now empty seat for you to sit on. You carefully sat on the edge of the bed, not even turning your knees to face his body.

“You look really weird right now.” Here came back the Jungwon you were used to, the one who threw out any sort of comment he could at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, turning back to him, “I’m trying to be cautious. I’m afraid you might insult me if I so much as lay a finger on your comforter.”

Jungwon, without you noticing, rolled his eyes. He sighed, “You can sit further back on my bed. I don’t bite.”

“I just don’t believe you, to be honest.” You remarked back at him.

Sighing again, albeit more frustratedly this time, Jungwon caught you by surprise by grabbing your wrist closest to him and slightly tugging you further back on his bed.

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me,” he said, “I need your help. I won’t bite so long as you’re helping me.”

You finally turned to face him, taking note of how much closer you two were sat now that he had pulled your wrist. You looked down at his hand still wrapped around your wrist. He quickly removed his hand.

Adjusting yourself, you turned to face Jungwon on his bed, watching him pull out a binder, a pencil, and a calculator. He opened the binder, searching for a familiar white packet: the same one that’d you’d turned in earlier that week.

You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and leaned over slightly to look at the problem that he was caught on. Jungwon noticed how you were sat across from him, and thereby couldn’t properly read the problem. He scooted his body more to the left of you and moved his binder so you could read.

The problem that Jungwon had attempted last had lots and lots of erased pencil marks all over it; he had clearly been struggling with it. You remembered also struggling with the same problem, but not nearly as much as he did.

“So this is one of the ones you’re struggling with?” You questioned, looking at him.

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “I feel like she made this a lot harder than it should’ve been.”

“I had a hard time with this one, too, if it makes you feel any better.” You reassured him. Motioning to his calculator, you continued, “Why don’t you walk me through the steps of what you’re doing? Then I can show you what I did.”

Roughly fifteen minutes later and there were still eraser marks decorating the paper, yet not nearly as much as there were before. Jungwon was still confused, but had successfully worked through half of the problem he was caught on.

Jungwon groaned for what seemed like the hundredth time when you caught another mistake of his, “This is so stupid.”

“Hey,” you laughed, “I’m just trying to help you.”

“You know I didn’t mean you.”

There it was again, another positive comment from Jungwon, and this one sent a special beat through your heart. You chalked it up to just being not used to this side of Jungwon, not anything more.

“It’s okay,” you reassured, “I told you that I also struggled with this one. It’s not you, it’s the problem.”

You weren’t sure what came over you, but with the sudden kindness from Jungwon, you felt the need to return the gesture.

“I know,” he groaned, “I know. I just want to finish this problem. I have like four more to do that are the exact same thing.”

Jungwon flopped back on his bed, covering his face with his hands. You slightly laughed at the boy; all that big, tough act just for him to crumble at a math problem.

“Why are you laughing?” Jungwon whined, not amused. He removed his hands from his face to look at you.

“I’m not,” you tried concealing your laughter, “I’m not. I swear.”

“You’re laughing at me,” he said, “I’m about to drop out of school and you’re laughing at me.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you replied, “it’s just one math problem. Wanna take a break with me?”

“…Maybe.”

You got off of Jungwon’s bed and started, “Come on, get up.”

“Actually, changed my mind, I’d rather die here than take a break with you.”

Though his words seemed harsh, you could tell there were hints of joking in his tone. You smiled naturally at him, “Fine, be like that. I’ll just leave.”

“You don’t have a ride home, need I remind you.”

“But I have a phone,” you teased, pulling your phone out of your pocket, “and I have people I can call. Like Gyuvin or Minji.”

Jungwon sat up finally, tilting his head at you, “Who are they?”

You didn’t even realize that you’d mentioned your childhood friends with Jungwon; you had been so oddly comfortable in the moment that you’d just let their names leave your mouth.

“Oh, uh-” you started, looking down, “just, uh, friends from my old school.”

You braced yourself for him to make fun of your ‘poor’ friends as usual, but nothing came from his direction of the room. You looked back up at him to find him with the same expression he’d had while asking you about them.

“What did you want to take a break for?” He inquired.

“Oh, I didn’t need it,” you said, “I thought you might’ve needed it.”

“Oh.”

A blanket of silence temporarily fell over the room until Jungwon broke the quiet atmosphere, “Didn’t know you had it in you to be so caring.”

“Maybe you’d know if you didn’t try to get under my skin all the time,” you remarked, with hints of teasing, “I’m actually quite the caring person, you’d be surprised.”

“I’m not.”

You had no time to process what he’d said before he spoke again:

“Let’s get back to work. I need to focus so you don’t stay here any longer than you have to.”

And just like that, Jungwon was back to his normal self.

x. I ALMOST SAID “I LOVE YOU”

The next following weeks that were leading up to the dance passed quicker in a blur than you’d like to admit they had; it seemed like just yesterday you had started fake-dating Jungwon, but in actuality it was coming up on around a month and a half.

In the time that you two had been “dating”, you’d become familiar with the soccer team, had gone to his house on multiple occasions, and even met his mother once.

Another uncertain familiarity had also made itself known: you were beginning to get used to being with Jungwon.

There had been many different occasions in which you’d felt yourself especially having let your walls down to the boy, and as more weeks passed of being “together”, the moments became much more frequent.

In particular, the last week had been particularly eventful for you.

The first strange event had occurred on Tuesday evening, when Jungwon, Wonyoung, Taesan, and you had all gone to the mall after school. Wonyoung was in need of some sort of new fur jacket for a family company event, or so she said. You had tagged along to help her find something suitable to wear, and she had told you that it was of the utmost importance that you were with her.

Taesan had joined because he wanted to pay for Wonyoung’s coat, being the caring boyfriend that he was. Taesan had also extended to invite to Jungwon to create the illusion of a double date.

While Wonyoung was in the fitting room of an expensive French store with a name you couldn’t even try to pronounce, Taesan had told you that he would hold onto the current items you had in hand and told you to try find some more different ones on the other side of the store. You happily obliged, loving the feeling of window shopping in a place you could never afford.

To your surprise, Jungwon had joined you without you asking or Taesan offering the idea to him.

The two of you quickly found yourselves in the coat designated area of the store, and you told Jungwon that you two should divide and conquer.

He listened to you, and set off in the opposite direction of where you were.

The first coat that caught your eye was cream colored, with what felt like a velvet inside and a chiffon outside. The sleeves and collar were decorated with what you could only guess was arctic fox fur. You loved Wonyoung, but you had a hard time getting behind her family’s necessity of wearing animal fur. It sent a shiver down your spine.

Looking at the price tag, it read $1,205. Your jaw slightly dropped, forgetting how truly expensive it was in there. You grabbed the jacket nonetheless, and started to make your way to try and find Jungwon.

Out of the corner of your eye, a glint of diamond found you.

You knew that you should have been getting back to Wonyoung.

But one look wouldn’t hurt, right?

You stalked your way up to the glass display slowly and spotted the most gorgeous pairs of earrings you’d ever seen in your entire lifetime. Next to the diamond pair that’d initially caught your eye, there was a beautiful silver chained necklace with what appeared to be a green gemstone encased in the center. It had to be the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

The employee noticed your wonder and walked over to speak to you.

“Hello,” the middle aged woman started, “see anything that you like, sweetheart?”

“Oh, uh-” you were startled, “Sorry. I was just looking.”

“I understand. We have a wonderful selection of jewelry. Are you looking at anything in particular?”

You shook your head, “No, um, I can’t. I’m here with a friend. This is way out of my price range.”

“I see, dear,” she said, pulling her glasses down from her head and placing them on her nose, “but that’s not what I was asking. Which one caught your eye?”

“Oh,” you laughed awkwardly, “I liked the diamond earrings a lot. The necklace with the small green gemstone is what kept me staring, though.”

“That’s a very popular one, the green gemstone. It’s a Colombian emerald.”

“It’s absolutely beautiful. If I had a job like this, I’d just spend all day looking at all the jewelry.”

The lady nodded, “As do I now.”

Suddenly, Jungwon appeared behind you, slightly startling you. You whipped around to see what seemed to be a concerned look.

“Hi,” you said, “I found something for Wonyoung.”

“I can see that,” he responded, looking down at the coat, then back at you, “but I was hoping more for you to find me. Taesan messaged me, asking where we were, because Wonyoung is still ‘hopeless’.”

“Oh,” you stuttered, “I got distracted. Thank you,” you turned to the woman as you started walking away, “and sorry about that,” you looked at Jungwon, “I got really distracted.”

“Yeah,” he slightly laughed, “I could have told you that. You should’ve answered your phone, I was worried.”

He was worried?

“You texted me?” You asked him.

Jungwon was worried?

“And called.”

Jungwon said he was worried.. about you. Weird.

You tried to ignore the slight skip in your heartbeat as you walked with him back to the fitting rooms.

xi. TO SIP IT SLOWLY

The next strange occurrence was the following Thursday night.

As a celebratory event, Jungwon’s soccer team decided to have a party in honor of their hard work (and just to party).

It was no surprise that a group of boys like Jungwon’s soccer team would host an obnoxious party. It reminded you of the ones that came out of movies; there was plenty of underaged drinking, it was too loud, and shitty music was blasting from a speaker that was a room over.

The party was in full swing by the time that you had arrived, which was about an hour after it was said to have started. The reason for your tardiness could have been chalked up to one person only: Gyuvin. As an apology for him causing you to be late, he offered to drive you to the location where the party was being held.

You had tried texting Jungwon multiple times on your way to the party, but, to no avail, he didn’t answer. This alone nearly caused you to forget about even showing up.

You sent him one last text — “just arrived. Wya?” — before leaving Gyuvin’s car and walking up the lawn of the house. While you went to the door (alone), you repeatedly checked your phone to see if Jungwon had messaged you back:

No.

The front door was unlocked when you reached it, and the foyer was empty. From a couple rooms away, you could hear music being blasted from a speaker. Hoping for the best, you decided to follow your gut and head that way.

The music was coming from the basement, which was down a hall then through a door that led to a flight of stairs. As you approached closer and closer to the basement door, you braced yourself for the potential of going deaf.

With still no text back from Jungwon, you opened the door and began walking down the stairs towards the main event of the party.

The first girl to acknowledge your presence was a girl named Noh Yunah, who was best friends with the girl who hosted the party: Park Minju. Minju was in a long term relationship with Anton Lee, the head captain of the team.

“Hey,” Yunah started, “you’re Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you made your way to stand next to her. Yelling over the music, you continued, “I am. You’re Noh Yunah?”

“I am!” Yunah smiled at you. “Where’s Jungwon?”

You slightly flushed at the sound of his name. You forgot that everyone here was in relation to the soccer team somehow, so of course they’d only know you as Jungwon’s girlfriend.

“Beats me,” you laughed, “I texted him earlier but he didn’t respond.”

“Weird,” Yunah responded, “I’m pretty sure that he was talking about you earlier. I just assumed that you two would have shown up together.”

“Yeah,” you said. Looking past Yunah, you couldn’t see anyone that resembled Jungwon. Sighing, you continued, “I had plans beforehand though. They unfortunately made me late.”

“Girl, I understand,” she laughed, “I hate these stupid parties most of the time. If I had other plans, I’d rather be there. Unfortunately, everyone that I’m friends with is here. I’m just glad there’s another girl.”

Suddenly, Park Minju made herself known from beside Yunah. She smiled, “I’m so relieved that you came, Y/N. Jungwon never stops talking about you at lunch. I needed to meet you finally so he would shut up.”

You laughed awkwardly, not sure if she was being nice or if it was a backhanded compliment. Either way, both girls were right; it was a complete relief to have other girls there.

But their behavior kind of puzzled you, too. Had the three of you been in a school setting, they probably wouldn’t have looked twice at you. If they did, it probably would’ve been to make a snarky comment.

Okay, maybe you were being too harsh on these girls. You’d never met them before.

But, in the same breath, you could never truly be too sure about Ivy Hills students.

Minju looked at your awkward stance, then laughed, “Do you want a drink?”

“Oh,” you started, “no. I don’t drink. Thank you though.”

“Suit yourself.” Minju raised a teasing eyebrow and smiled, then walking away to the big circle of people in the middle of the room — that same Jungwon-less circle you’d seen earlier.

Yunah looked at you, “Are you okay?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just, um… wondering where Jungwon is.”

“Hey,” she grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you closer so you could hear her better, “Sorry about Minju. I swear she likes you. She just doesn’t do well with new people.”

You nodded and let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in, “That’s good to know. I think I might actually take her up on her drinking offer, though. Is there anything non-alcoholic?”

Yunah bit her lip, “I’m not sure. Everything’s in the kitchen. Want me to come check with you?”

“No,” you reassured, “I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”

You left Yunah and ventured back up the stairs towards where the kitchen was, which was off the hall. There were a few people in there already, looking into coolers and what you could assume was Minju’s parents’ liquor cabinet.

You crouched by a cooler with no one nearby and fished through it, looking for something tame, like a soda. Your best bet was either a safe ginger ale or something new: a Jack Daniels wine cooler.

You didn’t know anyone at the party.. and you had school the following morning, that you couldn’t risk skipping. But maybe one wine cooler wouldn’t be that bad…

You stood up from your crouching position and walked to the kitchen counter where you placed your drink. Cracking it open, you took your first sip.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket with a text from someone you had been waiting on:

Jungwon.

It was a simple text — “Hey” — but you felt your heart skip a beat. Perhaps the alcohol had entered your system quickly.

You quickly responded — “Where are you??” — to his text and placed your phone face down, leaning your back against the counter to face the open doorway.

As if on cue, a familiar lean figure walked through the doorway, almost making you choke on nothing. Unknowingly, your face broke into a little smile of relief.

Jungwon nodded to whoever the other people were in the room (who were still scavenging for drinks) before walking over to you.

“Where have you been?” You questioned teasingly once he made his way over to you.

“Oh, around, y’know.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“I was out on the back porch with some of my teammates, why?” He looked at you, “You missed me?”

“You wish,” you laughed, “but no. I don’t know anyone here. I kind of need you here in order for it to make any remote sense of me being here.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged. Jungwon glanced at your drink, then furrowed his eyebrows, “You been drinking?”

“It’s my first and probably last. We have school tomorrow, so even though I wanna fit in, I wanna keep my scholarship more than that.”

Jungwon chuckled at your words, “Smart girl, I guess. Wanna go downstairs?”

“We can, yeah,” you said.

Jungwon pushed himself off of the counter and led you back downstairs to the basement, but this time to the large crowd. They were all still sat in a circle, but the music was softer this time.

A couple of (assumed) teammates called out Jungwon’s name as he walked to find a spot in the circle, leading you with him. The two of you found a spot on one of the couches at the end. The spot had enough space for one person, but you and Jungwon squished to both be able to sit. He offered for you to sit on his lap, but you declined. The alcohol was making your face red enough.

You sat between Jungwon and one of his friends, Junhyuk, who everyone called “Win” for some reason. Assuming he played for a school team and was the star player, that would make sense. But you still thought it was weird nonetheless.

The conversation was still flying at a million miles per hour once you’d sat down, and you didn’t expect to really understand anything. Your main goal was to just sit there nicely and then go home once Jungwon left.

The last thing you’d expected to happen was Jungwon to slowly slither his right arm around your waist and place his hand on your hip nonchalantly. Your eyes widened at the occurrence, but Jungwon seemed unfazed.

Junhyuk was very obviously drinking and had been for some time, so when he leaned over jokingly and asked how “serious” you and Jungwon were, you weren’t exactly shocked that he’d made a comment about you two, especially given that your “relationship” was the most recently established.

A couple other people had overheard Junhyuk’s comment and laughed, causing Jungwon to raise an eyebrow at them.

“We’re very serious, Junhyuk, thank you for asking.” Jungwon commented with hints of snark in his voice, “And, also, thank you for hitting on my girlfriend! Just reminded me that I have the most beautiful woman this school has ever seen!”

“If she’s so pretty,” Junhyuk laughed, “why don’t you share? Especially if you know how much other people want her.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, there was no way he just said that. Another drunkard called from across the circle, “Jungwon, I’ll give you $40 if you trade places with me for the night.”

Jungwon’s pride turned into disgust within milliseconds, “My girlfriend is not an object. I will never let her around gross low-lives like you both if you ever say any bullshit like that again.”

Jungwon tightened his grasp around your waist. He then pulled you to be sitting on his lap, so that you wouldn’t have to be sitting next to Junhyuk anymore.

He whispered in your ear, “Sorry for making you come here.”

However, the boys’ drunk comments were deafened in comparison to the way Jungwon had your heart beating.

You were so fucked.

xii. BUT I DONT GET BORED

The final occurrence actually happened the following day during your math class.

Many of the people that you were mingling with the previous night decided not to go to school the following day — which would be today — and unluckily for you, you didn’t have that option, so you sat quietly in your Calculus class like normal.

Jungwon, to your surprise, had decided not to skip school like most of his friends and teammates, so he was sat quietly in your Calculus class, too.

Around two weeks prior, your teacher had decided to change up the seating chart of the classroom, sending Jungwon nearly all the way across the room from you.

You were almost 100% sure that it was because your teacher had seen the two of you passing notes during lectures, but because she never mentioned anything to the either of you, you couldn’t be sure.

You took a peek at where Jungwon was situated on the other side of the room just for you to notice him already looking at you.

You gave him a little smile, but then quickly turned to look at your teacher instead.

The AP tests for the majority of your classes had already happened, but your final AP exam was on the following Monday, which meant your teacher was doubling down on the review work and studying for you and your classmates.

Your teacher had randomly assigned everyone into either A team or B team, and today’s review session was to be a team vs. team test. You were hoping that by some miracle, Jungwon would get sorted into the same team as you; the two smartest people in the class — and in your whole grade, for that measure — being on the same team meant a guaranteed win for that team.

But, unluckily for you, he got assigned to B team, and you were stuck in A team. Once the sorting was complete, Jungwon caught your eye from across the room and mouthed a quick “sorry” while frowning.

You gave him a small smile that said “it’s okay” before turning to your teammates.

The desks had been pushed all together but separated in the middle (to distinguish between the two teams’ spaces) to create more space for everyone to “work together”.

You knew damn well in your mind that “working together” for your team most likely meant that they would make you (and maybe one other smart person if you were lucky) do all the equations and then just take credit for your work.

Your hunch was proven correct when you were onto your fourth problem in the process with the teams at 1-2. Your team was winning, but you were beginning to stress. If B team finished the equation first, the teams would be tied up.

Even though the exercise was supposed to be “fun”, it seemed to be fun for everyone except for you. The feeling of roughly 6 or 7 classmates breathing down your neck in wait of you finishing a problem only made you want a cry.

Moments later, a member from B team stood up and ran to the teacher to show her the answer and the work done. While all your classmates were watching in anticipation to see if she got the answer or not, you continued to work on the problem. You couldn’t join them in watching, because on the off chance that she made a mistake in her work, you needed to be prepared to swoop in with correctly done work at any moment.

Alas, to your dismay, your teacher chimed the bell that signified a correct answer.

One of your teammates gave you a dirty look.

Trying your best to ignore them, you focused onto the whiteboard and waited for your teacher to write down the final problem of the competition.

It didn’t take long for you to be reimmersed into the world of Calculus and try your hardest to finish the problem first. It wasn’t easy to focus when your teammates were breathing down your neck, though.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, you had nearly completed the problem when your opponent, Leehan, quickly ran up to your teacher to hand her the answer sheet with his work.

While she was grading the work, your teammate, Haruto, was urging you to finish while cursing under his breath at you, but not quietly enough for you to not be able to hear.

The bell chimed, signifying your team lost.

A cheer erupted from the other side of the classroom while Haruto snatched the paper from you and crumbled it up. He rolled his eyes, “Nice work, trailer trash. You’re more stupid than I thought.”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Jungwon’s neck snap in Haruto’s direction.

While his team was cheering, Jungwon decided that instead of joining in, he would make sure he didn’t just hear what he thought he did from Haruto.

“What did you just call her, Watanabe?”

At this point, not only did you and Haruto notice Jungwon, but the majority of your teammates did, too. While some opted to pretend they didn’t see anything, some of the other ones turned their full attention to the interaction.

“Why do you give a fuck, Yang? You’re not on this team, so you shouldn’t even care that she made us lose. You won.”

“Maybe I did, but if you wanted to win, you should’ve helped her, instead of standing there like the bum that you are,” Jungwon scoffed, “because it’s no secret, Haruto, that you’re a lazy loser who rides off other people’s success to create your own.”

Haruto’s face morphed into an unrecognizable expression.

Jungwon continued, “In case you didn’t notice, your ‘personal math problem-solver’ here was doing the work with you breathing your hot breath down her neck.”

Catching more people’s attention now, he raised his voice a bit, “None of you did anything and you’re complaining that you lost. Y/N is lucky that exams are solo activities because she definitely won’t need any of you to rely on for answers. I’m glad that at least one person in this class is smart-”

Your teacher cut him off, “Yang Jungwon, that’s enough. Please go take a seat.”

Once Jungwon sat down, you couldn’t help yourself from sneaking a look at Haruto’s face, which hasn’t even changed a bit since Jungwon insulted him.

You laughed to yourself, thinking about Jungwon. Maybe losing wasn’t so bad after all if that was the result.

xiii. NEVER KNEW I COULD FEEL THIS MUCH

The sudden comfort that you had found in the man you once despised terrified you.

It terrified you so much to the point of you declining Wonyoung to a hang-out twice this weekend, for fear of Jungwon being there.

You were sure that by the third time, Wonyoung could tell what was up. So, it didn’t entirely surprise you when she showed up at your family’s apartment door that same night she texted you.

“You have a bit of explaining to do,” she started once you opened the door to her.

“Hello to you too.”

Wonyoung stepped past you to walk toward your room, you trailing behind her by a few paces. You watched as she sat herself right on your bed and sent you a look that said ‘sit here’.

Once you sat, she immediately started, “Why have you been avoiding hanging out with me?”

“I haven’t,” you lied through your teeth, “I’ve just been… busy.”

She furrowed her brows at you, “Busy with what? Your boyfriend?”

You tensed subconsciously at the word, but responded, “No… just school, I guess. Even though AP tests are over, I still have some schoolwork.”

Wonyoung squinted, “Like what?”

“Just… papers and stuff.”

“You’re a bad liar,” she complained, “but whatever. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay. I won’t prod.”

You nodded thankfully at her, looking away, “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t seen any other friends.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes and standing up, “No, Y/N, that doesn’t make me feel any better. That makes me feel depressed on your behalf.”

You sent her an annoyed look.

“Anyway, since I’m already here, we should go do something. I miss my best friend.”

You smiled a little at her and also stood up.

As if on cue, you received a text from Jungwon:

Wanna go do something fun tonight?

xiv. LOST TRACK OF TIME AND SPACE

That Saturday after, you were once again with Minji and Gyuvin in your family’s apartment. This time, you weren’t being dramatic or even complaining about Jungwon. Instead, Minji decided to bring up the man herself.

“Y/N, I saw on your story last night that you went to a party.”

“Yeah,” you started, “I did, so what?”

“Since when are you a party person?” Gyuvin butted in, antagonizing you.

“I’m not, obviously,” you sighed, “I hid in the bathroom for most of it anyways. It was loud and obnoxious, and I only went because Jungwon asked me to go as his date.”

“Hm,” Minji hummed, “seems like he’s pretty serious about you, given that he asked you to go as his date to a party.”

“What’s even funnier is you went!” Gyuvin laughed from his spot on your bed.

“What’s so funny about that?” You interrogated, snapping your neck to look at him.

“Nothing, nothing.”

You shook your head at him, rolling your eyes slightly. Minji spoke next, “It is a bit funny. Y/N L/N, the well-known party-goer.”

“Look, I only went because he asked, okay? You guys both know damn well that I wouldn’t have gone otherwise.” You scoffed, surprised at their audacity.

Minji laughed, “And since when are you one to listen to what Yang Jungwon asks of you? The Y/N that I know wouldn’t have said yes in a million years.”

“It was important to him, okay,” You replied, “and he was insisting that I go. For public image reasons.”

“And now you care about what’s important to him,” Gyuvin piped up, “the plot thickens!”

You sighed, “It’s really not as big of a deal as you guys are making it out to be.”

“Listen, Y/N,” Gyuvin continued, “never did I ever think that you would ever go to a party, let alone with someone you claim to ‘hate’. I think you’re starting to like him.”

Minji laughed and you widened your eyes as you felt your face slightly flush at the thought. Was it that obvious?

“Oh my god, Gyuvin is totally right! Y/N, you liiiiike Yang Jungwon!” Minji sang to you.

“I do not,” you felt yourself retort like an elementary-aged school girl, “I do not! I swear it’s nothing. We’re just fake dating and that’s it.”

Minji kept laughing, “Sureeeee, Y/N. We both believe you!” She continued taunting you, high-fiving Gyuvin.

“You guys are so sick for this…” you grumbled, trying to push away your feelings for Jungwon further down.

“You’re just mad we’re never wrong,” Gyuvin said, “oh, and, by the way, you only have a week until you get your money.”

You felt your eyes slightly widen and your heart skip a beat or two.

Had time really flown by that quickly?

xv. HARDER TO HIDE THAN I THOUGHT

Two days had passed and you were scheduled to attend a double date with your “boyfriend”, Wonyoung, and Taesan. It was, pretty obviously, Wonyoung’s idea. But, because you didn’t want Jungwon to assume you suddenly hated him, you agreed to go.

Around an hour before the date, Jungwon suddenly texted you — “Hey, I’m omw to get you a bit early. I wanna talk before we see them” — and you felt your soul temporarily leave your body.

You and Jungwon hadn’t talked very often in the past week, because you had been avoiding him like the plague, trying to deny and drown out your feelings towards him.

Jungwon didn’t live too far from you, but it was far enough that you had at least fifteen minutes to freak out about his text message.

What could he possibly want? Was he going to confront you about avoiding him? What would you say, if that was the case?

You ran to the bathroom to touch up your outfit, makeup, and hair quickly, not wanting to present yourself badly in front of him. As in denial as you were, a small part of you knew that you did like the boy, and wanted to look pretty for him.

You were wearing a fairly plain outfit:

A white lace cami under a red short sleeve shirt, some secondhand baggy jeans, and some old clogs from your mother. You sported the look with an old (most likely faux) brown leather jacket from your father.

As for your hair, it was loosely braided into two braids and tied with a ribbon. You pulled some hair out to give it a more “effortless” look, but you were slightly afraid it came off as you trying too hard.

Your makeup was minimal, but this left you worried you did too little. You added slight highlights to the inner corners of your eyes to make them pop.

Arriving 10 minutes earlier than you anticipated, you heard a knock at the door, knowing immediately who it was. You looked over yourself one last time before leaving the bathroom.

As soon as you opened the door, Jungwon’s once grim face lit up at the sight of you, “You look nice.”

“Thanks, I like to think so too, sometimes.”

He scanned your whole body and face before slightly smiling. He cleared his throat before asking, “Ready to go?”

You nodded, shutting the apartment door behind you, not bothering to lock it, as both of your parents were home at the hour. You laughed slightly, “Where are you taking me?”

Jungwon, leading the way down the steps towards the bottom landing of the apartment building, turned back for a split second to say, “It’s a surprise.”

Roughly another fifteen minutes later, Jungwon parked his car. He unbuckled his seatbelt and said, “We’re here.”

You followed suit and once out of the car you looked around, “Where are we?”

“East Eden Park.”

Jungwon smiled at you as he started walking up a hill, beckoning for you to follow.

“Okay, why are we here?” You asked, your tone slightly laced with panic as you walked behind.

Jungwon looked over his shoulder at you, “I’ll explain when we get up to the top.”

Suddenly, you had the genius idea to beat him to the top. Smirking, you said, “Race you.”

Before Jungwon even had a second to register what you said, you took off up the hill and managed to get many paces ahead of him before he started running too.

To your surprise, you ended up beating him up the hill, to which you cheered in victory, “I win! I win! You suck!”

Jungwon laughed as he finally reached the top of the hill, “Okay, bragger.”

You settled down your laughing and cheering to take in the view around you, widening your eyes at the sight. It took your breath away momentarily, “Wow, this place is amazing. You can see the whole downtown area from here.”

“Isn’t it?” Jungwon asked, as he reached to be next to you.

The sun had just started to set over the horizon of the city, making the perfect spot to watch the sunset.

“This is oddly romantic,” you laughed, awkwardly, “thanks for taking me here.”

“You’re welcome. Will you take a seat on the grass so we can talk?”

You immediately sat down in your spot, “You don’t have to ask me that twice.”

Jungwon also sat next to you, so close that your hands almost touched. If not for the rules that you two had made, you would’ve reached and grabbed his hand. But deep down, you knew you’d strangle yourself if you ever broke the unspoken fifth rule:

Don’t catch feelings.

Sighing to yourself, you trained your sights on a familiar building. You nudged Jungwon, “Hey, did you know that’s where my dad works?”

“Wait, which one? Your pointing skills suck.”

“Right there, second to the right on the bottom. Big brown building.”

Jungwon squinted his eyes, still not seeing what you were talking about.

“Dude, the one at the very bottom. Not the gray one.”

Jungwon sighed, “I give up. I can’t see it.”

“Really?” You said, exasperated, “You can’t see the brown building that says ‘Armstrong & Dennis’ above it?”

“Ohhh, I know that one. My dad’s a shareholder in that company.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Great. Thanks for reminding me of our societal class difference.”

Jungwon chuckled, nudging you, “You know that’s not what I meant when I said that.”

“Yeah, whatever, rich boy,” you nudged him back, “So, why’d you bring me here?”

“Oh,” he said, reminded of the reason, “I wanted to talk, um, about next week.”

The words Minji and Gyuvin were teasing you with appeared back in your head:

Only one week.

You tensed slightly and laughed, “Oh, I forgot about that.”

He stayed silent.

“So… what did you want to exactly discuss?” You questioned, looking at him. His eyes were still trained on the sunset-stained skyline, not moving. You wondered what he was thinking about.

He broken his silence after a minute, “Just… logistics, I guess.”

“What logistics?” You asked, “I thought it was just that we would go to the dance together, and then ‘break-up’.”

“Well, yeah, but…” he trailed off, not even continuing his sentence.

“But?”

“Y’know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter,” he sighed, finally looking at you, “because you’re right, we’ve already talked about it. Guess I’m just psyching myself out because I don’t know how Taesan and Wonyoung are going to react.”

“Understandable,” you said, “I mean, I do like hanging out with you though. Or, at least, when you’re nice to me. I’m sure we can stay friends after this whole fiasco is over.”

Jungwon took a long pause.

“Yeah… friends.”

You didn’t respond, instead opting to look at the way the sunset looked that evening, even taking out your phone to snap a photo of it.

You then got an idea, turning to Jungwon, “Wanna take a picture?”

He seemed genuinely surprised at your question, stuttering out a quick “sure” before posing next to you in your picture.

You flipped the camera to selfie mode and posed with a quick peace sign and slightly puckered lips. Jungwon copied your pose, but with a close-mouthed smile instead.

“Okay, wait, one more.” You insisted to him.

This time, you stuck your tongue out and widened your eyes, and he made a screaming face. You both laughed at the funny pictures before Jungwon got a call and picked it up swiftly.

“Yeah, we’re on our way.”

It was all he said before hanging up and standing up, “Hey, let’s go, or we’ll be late for dinner.”

“Okay, okay,” you said, pushing yourself off the ground and following Jungwon to his car.

The next ten minute drive was eerily silent. Not even comfortable silence, but instead a silence that felt like it was sitting on both of your chests— as if there was something that needed to be addressed, but you were both too afraid to acknowledge it.

You let out an unknowing breath of relief when you arrived at the restaurant where Wonyoung and Taesan were already waiting outside for the both of you.

As if on instinct, Jungwon grabbed your hand as you walked towards your friends at the door of the restaurant. You tried to pick up on their conversation, but it seemed like your mind was too foggy to even function that night, with nothing being able to even be clear.

However, there was one thing that night that couldn’t leave your mind:

Jungwon’s grip on your hand felt a little tighter than usual.

xvi. ARE YOU MINE?

One day before the dance, you were with Wonyoung in her family’s mansion and just hanging out as usual. Your conversations had been extremely honed in on the elephant in the room: the dance. Wonyoung tried on her expensive gown for you, and even asked you to help her style it. You two had practiced hairstyles, and even discussed when you would be coming over the following morning to get ready with her.

The dress you had bought was much less glamorous than hers, but even though she offered to let you borrow one of her “family event” dresses, you politely declined, insisting that you go with the dress you bought, because Jungwon liked the color.

Just as you were finishing up a hairstyle YouTube tutorial, you got a sudden call from Jungwon. You turned to Wonyoung, saying, “Hey, I’m gonna take this real quick.”

You walked out into her hallway and then into the guest bathroom to answer the phone.

As soon as you answered, he immediately started rambling, “Hey, Y/N, I know you’re with Wonyoung right now, but is there any way we can meet up late tonight? I have stuff I need to go over with you.”

Trying to understand him through his rambling, you just agreed, telling him to pick you up from Wonyoung’s at 10:30, which was in 15 minutes. You knew for a fact that Wonyoung wouldn’t care, because for one, she would be seeing you tomorrow morning anyways, and for two, you had planned on leaving at 10:30 anyways, but this time it would be Jungwon driving you, and not Wonyoung back home.

As soon as he heard your confirmation, Jungwon immediately hung up. You shook your head a bit, confused.

You walked back into Wonyoung’s room, letting her know that Jungwon would be coming to get you and drive you home. She nodded, still working on fixing her attempted hairstyle.

You went back to one of her mirrors and undid your hairstyle, not wanting to spoil your potential look for the following day, and also not wanting to look dressy from the face up, because you were wearing a baggy tee shirt, athletic shorts, and ankle socks, which would soon be joined by your sandals that were on the bottom floor.

Jungwon sent you a text — “I’m here” — which made you say goodbye to Wonyoung and tell her that you’ll see her tomorrow at 11am. She only waved “bye” as you left, still preoccupied with her hair.

As soon as you slipped out of the front door of the Jang’s, you were immediately met with Jungwon’s car. He rolled down the passenger window and said, “Get in.”

You yawned a bit as you opened the door, not even questioning where he was taking you.

Roughly five minutes went by and you both arrived at your location, which, to your surprise, was the same park that he took you to only a couple days ago.

“‘Welcome to Eden’…” you read the sign as you unloaded yourself from the car.

Jungwon said nothing as he trekked up the hill, leaving you to catch up once again. This time, however, you didn’t race him.

Once at the top of the hill, Jungwon immediately sat down, inviting you to join him. You complied in milliseconds.

A silence again filled the area between you two before you broke it:

“It’s so picture-esque here.”

Jungwon nodded next to you, the lights from the downtown illuminating his expression, which was unreadable.

“So…” you started, “why’d you bring me back here?”

Jungwon took a deep breath, “I just like it here.”

“Wow,” you teased, poking him, “trying to bring me to his favorite places before he breaks my heart. Such a tragic love story.”

You laughed at your own joke, but didn’t fail to notice how Jungwon remained expressionless.

He sighed, “Yeah…”

Another minute of silence befell the two of you, this time you being too afraid to break it.

Out of nowhere, Jungwon started, “Do you think we should keep doing this?”

Caught off guard, you asked “What?”

“Like, fake dating,” he said, “for Wonyoung and Taesan, of course. I feel like it’ll be suspicious if we break up the day after the dance.”

You furrowed your brow, not against the idea, but confused nonetheless, “Uh… sure. But how much longer?”

Jungwon pondered for a moment before coming to a conclusion, “Until it feels right.”

Not daring to turn your head to him, you stared into the abyss with the most confused look of your life, not even sure what to respond with. Instead you fell onto your back, opting to look at the stars above instead of the city ahead.

Shortly after, Jungwon followed suit.

He broke the silence first again, “Which constellation is your favorite?”

“Oh, I have no clue,” you said, genuinely thinking about it, “I don’t think I’ve put much time into thinking about it, honestly. Maybe the Southern Cross? It’s pretty easy to spot.”

Jungwon hummed next to you. Then he grabbed your hand and made you make a pointer finger, guiding it to where he wanted you to point, “Mine is Bootes. Can you see it? It’s right…” he moved your hand slightly, “…there.”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so.” You replied, squinting.

“Do you see the big star at the bottom? Its name is Arcturus.” He let go of your hand.

“I didn’t know you knew so much about astronomy,” you laughed, “it’s endearing.”

Jungwon chuckled, “My maternal grandpa worked for NASA. As crazy as it sounds, I was born from generational wealth.”

You smacked him teasingly, “You don’t say!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said, “crazy that the spoiled rich kid was born this way. And both his parents, too.”

You nodded, “Crazy. Would’ve never guessed. But, question, why do you like Bootes?”

“Oh, mainly because of Arcturus,” he replied, “because I can almost guarantee that there’s some sort of other life out there.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “do you think they’re smarter than us?”

“Maybe.”

“Cooler?”

“Definitely not.”

“Do you think there’s a parallel version of you and I that are doing the exact same thing right now?”

Jungwon paused, “I hope.”

You smiled, “Who do you think wins in a fight, you or alien you?”

“Oh,” he laughed, “I’d definitely win. No question about it.”

“How can you be so sure? What if their species is naturally taller and stronger?”

“I’m smarter.”

“Sure…” you said, “so does that mean alien me would beat human you? Or would you finally one-up me for once?”

Jungwon laughed loudly at your comment, “Wow… you think you’re so funny.”

You peeked at him and smiled to yourself before looking back at the stars and sighing, “I think I’m starting to like Bootes, too.”

Once back in Jungwon’s car, the silence was more comfortable than previous times. This time, it’s as if you’ve let your heart completely out of its cage of fear without actually telling Jungwon how you feel. This time, you’re sure that somewhere along the lines, you started to fall for him. This time, you knew that he meant something to you.

Halfway through the drive, Jungwon started to talk about his intergalactic arch-nemesis again and how he was sure that alien Jungwon was not as cool as human Jungwon.

“You two are essentially the exact same, though, just from different planets.” You said as a counter argument.

“Let me ask you this,” Jungwon replied, “Do you think you’re better than your alien self?”

You thought for a second before answering, “No. I am her and she is me. I’m sure she’s great.”

Jungwon laughed at your reply, “Okay, that was a pretty nice response.”

“Thank you,” you said, “I like to think highly of my alien self, because if she’s anything like me, she probably doesn’t think the highest of herself.”

Jungwon’s face got a bit more serious as he pulled onto your street, “What do you mean?” He turned down the radio.

“Oh, I, uh,” you stumbled over your words, “I didn’t mean to turn this into a pity party or anything, just…”

He parked the car and only looked at you.

“I’m sorry,” you laughed awkwardly, “that got depressing quick.”

“No worries,” he reassured, grabbing your hand and surprising you, “why don’t you think the highest of yourself?”

“Jungwon,” you said, uncomfortable, “you’re not my therapist. No need to worry about me-”

“No,” he cut you off, “I want to know. I mean, if anything, you’re miles smarter than me.”

You laughed a bit, “Um, thanks. But intelligence isn’t everything.”

He nodded, “Go on.”

“It’s just,” you started, “nothing really. It just sucks being the absolute poorest person at your school. No matter how high I score, or how hard I work, no one sees that. They just see my class background.”

Jungwon studied your face, “I’m sorry.”

“Wha-” you sputtered, “Why are you apologizing? It’s not like you were the one who did it! Well…” you paused, “actually you did. But that was a while ago. I basically already forgot.”

Jungwon doesn’t break his stare, “I wish I could help.”

You felt your heart race faster in your chest as you locked eyes with him, “Really… it’s okay. I swear.”

Something about the way that he was looking at you had you frozen. Sure, Jungwon had made questionable comments in the past, but nothing as simple as this specific look. You weren’t sure what it was.

Your eyes flickered down to his hand, still holding yours. You felt your heart rate pick up as you realized the proximity you were in.

As if nothing happened, Jungwon slowly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and looked at you like you were the only person on earth.

You felt your mind start to go fuzzy as you thought about him.

In that moment, it felt like you two were the only people alive to feel anything. It felt like all the world’s people’s emotions had swirled around the two of you, catching you in a deadly storm, of which neither of you wanted to escape.

In that moment, you felt everything and nothing all at once.

In that moment, it was just Jungwon.

And in that moment, you took the risk to lean into him softly place your lips on his.

The months of secret yearning spilled into the car and into the kiss. Before you could even realize what happened, you pulled away.

You were terrified. You swallowed deeply and looked at Jungwon, who seemed equally as shocked. You then mumbled a quiet “goodbye” as you left his car and ran into your family’s apartment complex.

You didn’t look back to watch him drive away silently.

xvii. NEITHER OF US PLANNED IT

You knew you were screwed. You knew you were plainly, simply, just screwed.

There was no one you could talk about last night with. Wonyoung already thought you had been dating Jungwon for some time now, and Minji and Gyuvin knew you two weren’t actually together. If you told them what happened, you were almost 100% sure you would never hear the end of it.

You obviously wouldn’t talk to Jungwon about it, either. Why the fuck would you talk about the elephant in the room to the elephant in the room?

You’d been freaking out all morning and nothing was easing your mind. One way or another, you’d have to face Jungwon today. You were nearly sick to your stomach thinking about it.

You were already at Wonyoung’s, but you were silently freaking out in her guest bathroom while she was getting ready. You almost threw up while you thought about the night to unfold. Your hands were sweaty, stomach sick, and head hurting. You weren’t sure how you’d survive the evening.

You took a deep breath and walked back into Wonyoung’s room, her already finishing her makeup and hair, still dressed in her pajamas, as putting the dress on was the last step.

She turned her head to you with a concerned expression as you trudged through the door, not even trying to hide your emotions at this point.

“What’s wrong, drama queen?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at you.

You sighed dramatically into her mattress after flopping yourself loudly onto it.

“Okay…” she laughed, “Well if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“I just hate emotions.” You grumbled.

She laughed again, “Okay, me too. Wanna tell me why?”

You groaned, “No.”

Roughly an hour and half later, you two were both ready to be picked up by your dates. Before the dance, there were pictures to be taken, and a dinner to be eaten, and then you could finally go to the dance, which started at 7:30.

Taesan and Wonyoung chattered in the front seat while you and Jungwon remained dead silent, not even looking at each other.

The car ride stayed exactly like that during the twenty minute drive.

Once you all arrived at the park to take pictures, you lifted yourself out of the car and walked to wherever Taesan and Wonyoung were leading.

At the pavilion, you took the time to fix some strands of your hair and flatten any creases in your dress, which was blue, Jungwon’s favorite color.

Even though you were originally standing alone, Jungwon soon made his way towards you. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “You, uh… you dress well for the occasion.” You could tell that he was flustered, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you were too. You were just glad he didn’t bring up the incident from the night prior.

You laughed shyly, “I mean, of course. I was planning on getting my heart broken tonight after all.”

“I mean, we did agreed to keep this act going,” he replied, “We can’t have me breaking your heart while you look so pretty.”

Your heart started racing like you’d just ran a marathon. Trying to stay calm, all you could muster back was “thanks”.

Some pictures and a dinner later, you and your group arrived at the location where the dance would be held, which was none other than the downtown’s Music Hall.

As you walked in with Wonyoung, you tried to take in everything that you could, from architectural designs to the art on the ceilings to the over-the-top decorations that Ivy Hills had created for the event.

It didn’t take long for her to grab your hand and pull you along to talk with some of her friends, one of them including Park Minju, who you’d first met around a month ago.

You surprisingly relaxed a lot during the dance, having expected the DJ to only play classy songs, but you were entirely shocked when Fire Burning by Sean Kingston blasted through the speakers.

Around half an hour later, you found yourself on a balcony from the top floor of the venue, needing some fresh air after sweating as much as you did. You didn’t expect to dance as much as you did, but nonetheless you still needed a break.

It was a lot colder outside than you’d anticipated it to be, somehow forgetting that the sun had already set. You didn’t really mind, though, as you were too lost in thought to even pay any attention to the weather.

Almost exactly a minute later, you heard an all-too-familiar voice from behind you. He slowly approached to stand next to you and asked, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, too lost in thought to really acknowledge him, “Yeah.”

“What’s up?”

“Just…” you finally looked at him, “just a lot going on right now.”

He chuckled a bit, “I get it.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as he tried to mimic your body language.

From inside the venue, your ears perked up at the sound of the DJ announcing the first slow song of the night, to which you groaned.

“What?” Jungwon questioned.

“Slow songs are just soooo corny. Especially at dances. It’s always either ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran or ‘A Thousand Years’ by Christina Perri or ‘I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You’ by Elvis.”

Jungwon shook his head in disbelief, “So you don’t like slow dancing?”

“It’s not that I don’t like slow dancing,” you replied, “the songs are just overplayed and corny.”

“I mean…” he started, “I completely disagree. I think it’s romantic. But, okay.”

“Of course you wouldn’t get it,” you retaliated, “you’ve never been to a public school dance. PDA is off the charts. It’s gross.”

“I’m sure of it,” he replied, “but PDA is off the charts here, too. You just don’t see it because these weirdos go hide in the unisex bathrooms and-”

“Ew,” you cut him off, “ew, okay. Stop there please.”

Jungwon laughed loudly, “Listen, this is how I can tell you only know the surface of private schools.”

“Yeah, and maybe I’d like to keep it that way. We’re graduating this month anyway, and I’ll never have to see anyone here again if I don’t want to.”

“Sounds like a dream,” he said, “where are you going for school?”

“I haven’t committed anywhere yet, is that bad?” You winced.

“No,” he assured, “definitely not. My parents wanted me to go to Yale but I ended up on Brown. Took me months to choose between Brown and UCLA.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed, “I got rejected from UCLA. I’m stuck between MIT and Brown. Yale accepted me, but they didn’t offer me enough. There’s no way in Hell that I’m paying twenty thousand a semester.”

“Yale didn’t even waitlist me,” Jungwon sighed, “my parents were so mad. Their next choice was Princeton or Brown, so I chose Brown to make them happy.”

“My parents just wanted me to go to the state school,” you said, “…good ‘ol Virginia Tech.”

“Not a bad school,” he answered, “but I understand your parents’ concerns. Moving out of state is hard. You’re their only child, too.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I understood why. But I don’t think they understand how important education is to me… I don’t know.”

Jungwon smiled, “Well, if you go to Brown, just know you’ll have a friend there.”

You smiled back at him.

Noticing the song was over, you muttered, “Thank god.”

Just then, through the speakers, you heard the opening violin notes to one of your favorite childhood songs that your dad used to play for you on his CD player: ‘Come On Eileen’ by Dexy’s Midnight Runners.

You gasp in excitement, “I’d much rather dance to something like this.”

Jungwon laughed at your reaction, “Well, then can I have this dance?”

You tried to fight your smile, “Why yes, you can.”

Jungwon stuck out his hand to you, but instead of you grabbing it to slow dance, you linked his arm with yours and started making him do a strange folk dance with you, making him spin and dip you, and trying to convince him to let you dip him, but with no success.

Just as the song started, it ended. The DJ announced over the speakers that the king and queen of the ball would soon be announced.

Without saying a word, you followed Jungwon into the building and down the steps, towards where the crowd was forming.

To no one’s surprise, the queen was announced to be Wonyoung, and her king to be Taesan.

As they did their dance, you leaned towards Jungwon and whisper-shouted sarcastically, “Who would’ve seen this coming?”

He laughed at your comment and replied, “Right?”

A moment passes before he leans over again and asks, “Do you wanna go get something to drink with me? I need some water.”

You nodded and followed him back up the steps to the second floor where there were still people, but much less crowded than the bottom floor.

As he was walking, he looked over his shoulder at you and said, “I can finally hear myself think now.”

Once he got his water, you both retreated back to the initial balcony that he found you on earlier in the night. The silence was comforting, and you caught yourself trapped in your thoughts again.

Out of nowhere, Jungwon suddenly broke the silence:

“Did that kiss mean anything to you yesterday?”

Completely caught off guard, you replied, “Huh?”

Without missing a beat, he explained, “Like, when I dropped you off yesterday. Did that mean anything to you? I’m just confused ‘cause- I mean, I know it wasn’t for show. It was only the two of us in the car. I- I just want to know.”

You took a second to even process what he said to you. Sure, it was inevitable that he was eventually going to bring it up. But you didn’t think now was the moment, especially so soon.

Trying to find the right words, you responded, “Oh, um… I don’t know if this is a conversation we should have here and now… I mean… there’s people around and…”

Jungwon nodded stiffly.

“I…” you trailed off, “I think I’m going to go back downstairs.”

And just like that, you left Jungwon alone again.

xviii. ROLLER-COASTER KINDA RUSH

For the next few hours of the dance, you didn’t see Jungwon at all. In fact, he didn’t even ride with you, Taesan, and Wonyoung to Wonyoung’s afterparty. You were starting to worry that by you deflecting the conversation earlier, he took it as a rejection.

The next time you saw Jungwon was an hour into Wonyoung’s afterparty. You caught the slightest glimpse of him in the kitchen, but just as you’d seen him, he’d disappeared from your sight. You were beginning to believe you had started hallucinating him from how much he was driving you crazy.

However, once outside, you’d seen Jungwon’s car parked on the street across from Wonyoung’s mansion, and sighed in relief when you realized you weren’t actually losing your mind.

Near the end of the afterparty, Jungwon snuck up on you.

“Hey.”

You jumped, startled from the sudden appearance, “Hey. I haven’t seen you all night.”

His only response was a simple and short “yeah”. Before you both fell into an uncomfortable silence.

A couple of seconds later, Jungwon asked you, “Do you want a ride home?” He held up his keys.

You smiled at the gesture, knowing that otherwise, you’d have to find someone else to drive you home, and although Taesan drove you there, and he’d likely be staying the night, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“Sure.”

With the party already dying down, you made sure to say goodbye to Wonyoung and thank her for hosting. You gave her a small hug and watched as Jungwon dapped up Taesan.

The both of you walked to Jungwon’s car in silence down the driveway.

However, this time, you decided to bite the bullet:

“I think we should talk about what happened yesterday.”

You noticed Jungwon almost freeze in his spot for a second but he continued walking to his car.

All he could mutter out was another “yeah”.

Once you reached his car, he quickly put it in gear and started driving you home.

Jungwon didn’t say anything until he almost reached your apartment. He parked his car on the street, and got out to walk you to your door.

He sighed, yet started, “Listen, I know you’re getting paid from this. But we never needed to kiss to seal the deal…” he trailed off, “so I really don’t understand why that was a necessary part to the whole act and-”

“That wasn’t about the money.” You cut him off.

Jungwon slowly turned to look at you, confused, “What?”

“It-” you stumbled over your words, “it stopped being about the money a while ago.”

A small and barely audible “oh” escaped his lips, with an unreadable face.

“I-” you started, “I- I know that we’re supposed to sell this,” you motioned between the two of you, “thing for a long longer. I know that because we both agreed on it. But…” you trailed off, not sure what to say next.

You took a deep breath, “But what I say next might change the trajectory of this… friendship…” you shook your head, “…or whatever this is.”

Jungwon said nothing.

“But the truth is, I-” you sighed, defeated, “I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you. Not because of the stupid money, and not because of the validation I’d get from Wonyoung and Taesan.”

He stood still, motionless, still with an indecipherable expression.

Nearly to tears with frustration and stress, you continued, “I kissed you because… because I felt like it was right in the moment. And- and it’s okay if you don’t feel that way. And if that is the case, then I’m sorry for kissing you and making things weird between us.”

Sighing one last time, “And I know the unspoken rule of this whole thing was to not have any actual feelings for each other, but-”

“Y/N.” Jungwon cut you off.

Afraid that you went overboard, you muttered sheepishly, “…what?”

“Please,” he said, taking a step closer, “please, stop talking.”

You frowned, “Did I say too much?”

“No,” he laughed, “but if you never stop rambling, I won’t be able to tell you how I feel.”

“Um,” you said quietly, “sorry, what?”

You weren’t sure exactly what Jungwon meant by ‘telling you how he felt’ but you were nearly bracing yourself for the worst. You decided to keep quiet as to not disturb him.

“I want you to know something right off the bat,” he started, “okay?”

You nodded but still didn’t say anything.

“It was never about Wonyoung and Taesan for me,” he laughed, “Hell, I’m the reason that we were all forced to hang out, the four of us.”

He sighed, “Y/N, I’ve always admired you, but I never knew how to deal with it. Why? Because in all of my life, I have never had a girl distract me from school as badly as you did.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

“The only reason that I’m ranked 2nd in math for our class is because you are 1st,” he continued, “And I used to really hate you for it, because who did this pretty girl think she was, coming into my school and usurping me of my top rank in the class?!”

You felt yourself flush at the compliment, but tried to stay as calm as possible.

Jungwon calmed down, “But… at a point, I realized that you never did it to spite me, and you were genuinely just that smart. Then, I got over myself.”

You nodded with furrowed eyebrows.

“But,” he sighed, “I knew I had already pushed your buttons so hard to the point that I really thought there would be no point of return…”

“…So, when you brought up the idea of fake dating me, I immediately said no, because I knew it wouldn’t end well for me,” Jungwon laughed bittersweetly, “But then you challenged me. And I love a challenge.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words, now noticing how closely he was standing to you. You opened your mouth to try and form a response, but the only thing that you said came out in a whisper:

“Wow… I don’t know what to say.”

He smiled brightly at you, grabbing your hand.

“I don’t think words can be used in this moment.”

As if he’d been doing it forever, Jungwon wrapped one arm around your waist and let the other cup your head. Slithering your arms around his back, you stood on your tippy toes.

This time, you knew you wouldn’t run away from his kiss.

a/n : aaaand it’s over meow meow meow sorry for the long wait but it seemed like life hasn’t been on my side for the past year. hope u guys enjoyed tho <3 this was a bit too happy ending for me and not nearly enough angst but whateva

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tahbhie · 5 months ago

Text

How many drafts should you go through before deciding your novel is ready?

There's no specific (official) number, but to create a foundation that ensures you don't burn out quickly, overwork yourself, and get tired of your work, I'll say four. It's the same number I use for my students since most of them have other engagements outside writing that take up a copious amount of their time.

1. Initial or Zero Draft:

This draft is also called the 'just write' draft. Focus on putting that idea down. As the creative juices flow, let it all out. Don't worry about perfection or coherence; the goal is to capture your raw ideas and get the story out of your head and onto the page.

2. Second Draft:

This is the plot draft. Read through what you have written to see if every detail you added was meant to be. Here, you focus on the structure of your story. Ensure that the plot makes sense, the pacing is right, and there are no major plot holes. This is where you might add, remove, or rearrange scenes to improve the overall flow of the narrative.

3. Third Draft:

Character development draft. In this stage, you look deeper into your characters. Make sure their motivations, backgrounds, and arcs are well-defined and consistent. Flesh out their personalities and relationships, ensuring they are compelling and believable. This is also a good time to refine dialogue and make sure it sounds natural and true to each character. That's for this drafting stage.

4. Fourth Draft:

Grammar and punctuation draft. This is the polishing stage. Focus on correcting grammatical errors, punctuation, and spelling mistakes. Pay attention to sentence structure, word choice, and overall readability. This draft is about making your manuscript as clean and professional as possible.

Keep in mind that the goal is to define what completion means for each draft. Once you reach the goal, take a break and return to it for the next drafting stage.

Some writers pay people to carry out some of the drafting stages for them, so if you fall into that category, you might have fewer drafting stages to handle yourself!

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Thank you all for the support 💜!

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rafesbabyg1rl · 5 months ago

Text

Private Session

Part one, Part Two , Part Three

Summary: Rafe likes to watch reader while she works as a stripper. He asks for a private session in which he'll pay a large amount for her time. Rafe takes her home and uses her however he pleases.

Pairings: Stripper!Reader X obsessive!Rafe

Warnings: Rafe is obsessive of reader. Reader is a stripper. Mention of drugs (Rafe does coke), Rafe's an ass, choking, p in v, unprotected sex, bondage, language, slight degradation, slight praise, oral (both m and f receiving), fingering. SMUT SMUT SMUT!

Word Count: 5.9k

Author Note: Hey babes! I got this idea from this GIF , like just imagine he's sitting in the strip club throwing dollar bills at you like that. UGH I need him so bad. But anyways, this fic is NOT fully proofread for errors, and I was a little fried while writing this and it's literally almost 3 am right now, but I wanted to get this posted. If you see any errors please feel free to correct me kindly! Thanks!

I promise I will work on The Watcher; I just got a bit stuck. Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy! I love you all and stay freaky!

Credits: GIF from this post

You don’t hate your job, but it’s definitely not the most respected profession out there. You can’t really hate the one thing that makes you money, pretty damn good money too. What can you say, you’re good at your job. You do however hate the assholes who come in nearly every night just to get on your nerves, well more like asshole.

Rafe Cameron loves to come in and watch you. He’ll stare for hours, just admiring you. Sometimes he’s with a few other guys from figure eight, but usually comes in alone. Honestly it’s when he comes in alone that he’s really bad. Since he can direct all his focus on you shamelessly. Rafe’s especially awnry when Barry, your boss, comes to hang out with him. Your boss is normally quite fair when it comes to his dancers; always making sure they’re not being mistreated by customers. But Rafe? Rafe has a free pass to do whatever the hell he wants to whoever. And unluckily for you, you seem to be the only one of Barry’s girls that he’s interested in. He never does so much as look at any of the other dancers when you’re around, he only cares about you. You thought it was flattering at first, but now it’s just weird.

When you see him come in tonight you sigh, still keeping up your performance on stage. God, it’s definitely going to be a long night. You’ve already had enough crap for the day, now for Rafe Cameron to waltz into the club when you’re only halfway through your shift, this is just great. God must really have it out for you.

Rafe hadn’t known you were working tonight, so he’s pleasantly surprised when he sees you on your stage as he walks to the back room to find Barry. Once he disappears into the back room with Barry, you forget about him and continue on with your routine per usual.

A while later, you see Rafe finally emerging from the back room, making his way back through the crowd of horny, drunk men and topless women. You see him shove a small bag into his pocket as he walks into view. His demeanor is different now; even cockier than before, if that’s possible. And his eyes are bloodshot, pupils extremely dilated.

Just keep walking. You think to yourself as you collect bills from your stage floor. Just keep walking.

But of course, Rafe stops near the front end of your stage, taking a seat. He gets comfortable, slouching back in his chair, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed over his chest as he stares up at you.

You try not to let your annoyance show as you continue dancing. Rafe watches you silently; occasionally tossing $1’s and $5’s onto the stage; only sticking to the small bills for now. Not because he’s cheap, but because he likes to take his time; build it up over time. He only throws a few at a time, so he can watch you bend over and pick up the cash however many times he wants.

You lean down to pick up the newest bills he just tossed down for you. You look at him, flashing him a flirty smile as you do with all paying customers. He shoves his wallet back into his jeans and looks up, making eye contact with you. He flashes a smirk that’s almost…charming? But, you know better than to fall for that. No matter how pretty he is, you know better.

A bit later, you take a short break from the pole to make your rounds around the club and see if you have any customers interested in your services. You hate it when it’s busy. Well, stripper you loves it when it’s busy because it means more money. But you, you hate the loud crowds of drunken perverts and frat boys; you felt so exposed. Which, you should because you’re hardly wearing anything. But, you just feel too vulnerable. You liked the calmer nights when the crowd was smaller; you feel more in control that way. And fuck is it packed tonight. You can barely move through the people, and you can hardly hear anything besides the loud music and obnoxious cat calls. This is why you don’t usually work on saturday nights; you’re just doing one of the other girls a favor and covering her shift.

Accidentally, you bump your shoulder into somebody while on your way back to the stage. You don’t think anything of it and just keep walking until you feel a hand on your wrist. Immediately you turn back, pulling your wrist away. You’re not surprised to find that it was Rafe you had bumped into you.

“Hey, y’think I can get a private show?” He asks, his emotions unclear as he steps closer so he can hear you.

“Sorry sir, no rooms are available.” You say with a sensual laugh and a bright smile, no matter how badly you want to just roll your eyes and walk away. But you can’t. You must remain professional. Rafe bites his lip, taking yet another step closer. He leans in to whisper into your ear.

“That’s not what I mean.” He keeps his mouth next to your ear.” You can hear his breathing as you think of a response.

“Can’t, sorry. I don’t do that, I’m not a fucking hooker.” You bite back, beginning to walk away again.

But Rafe quickly retorts, “doesn’t matter, both mean you’re just a fucking slut. Fuckin’ whore.” He spits. He tries to grab your wrist again and fails, grabbing your hand instead. He lets out a jagged breath, tugging you closer. “Come on. I’ll give you one thousand for two hours.” You’re shocked at his generosity, but like you said, you’re not a hooker. You don’t sell that part of you. Especially not to this asshole.

You don’t get the chance to respond before Barry is walking over to the two of you. “There a problem?” You sigh a breath of relief when Rafe drops your hand. But when you look at Barry, you realize he’s not asking you.

“Yeah, this fuckin’ bitch don’t know how to listen.” Rafe gestures to you.

Barry nods, taking in Rafe’s words. He steps over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and leading you a few steps away to talk to you. “What's he want?” Your boss asks, trying to gauge the situation. It doesn’t help that he’s also been doing some lines in the back room.

“He wants to take me home. I told him I’m not a hooker.” You explain, hoping he’ll side with you.

“Well maybe for tonight you are. You know why that is, sweetheart?”

You look down as you speak. “‘Cause we listen to what Mr. Cameron says.” You recite his rule.

“One night, just go with him. I bet he’ll pay big.” Barry pleads, not really giving you much option.

You argue, “Yeah, and you’re just gonna take 50%.”

“How ‘bout this. You listenin’?” You nod, looking up at him as he speaks. “You do this, you get to keep 75%.”

You think for a moment before responding. “Seventy-five percent of all my earnings.” You demand, causing Barry to chuckle.

Barry knows you’re stubborn, and he knows he can’t legally force you to go with Rafe. So hesitantly, he gives in and accepts your deal. “Fine, fine ‘aight, seventy-five percent of everything you make.”

You reach out to shake his hand. He holds onto it for a moment longer than is necessary, looking into your eyes, smiling a grimy smile; his gold tooth shining as the low club lighting hits it just right. “Now go get to fuckin’”, he laughs, letting go of your hand. You roll your eyes and as you turn your back to him he gives you a slight nudge back towards Rafe’s direction.

Re-approaching Rafe, you compose yourself. “One thousand for one hour.” You negotiate, your expression making it clear that you won’t be taking no for an answer. You know he has the money, and he’s clearly willing to spend it on you.

Rafe takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, attempting to contain his amused smile. “That wasn’t the deal.” He takes a step towards you. Your demanding expression doesn’t falter as you continue to stare at him silently. He huffs out a chuckle, nodding his head and licking his bottom lip. “Okay, fine. One thousand for one hour of your time. But, anything that goes over an hour is free. And trust me, you’re gonna be begging for more.”

“Right, sure I will.” You say sarcastically.

Rafe ignores your words. “So do we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Deal.”

Rafe wastes no time in taking your hand, leading you to the back room. You pass by the private rooms, seeing that one had opened up. You stop walking, making Rafe look back at you with a confused expression, waiting for your reason.

“There’s a room open…” You speak, looking over at the open door.

“I already told you, not here. That’s not what I’m paying for.” Rafe turns, pulling you behind him. He leads you into the back room, waiting for you to get your stuff from your locker. You slip some clothes over your lingerie, not wanting to go outside nearly naked. After grabbing your bag, you follow Rafe out the back door and to his truck.

His demeanor seems to be more neutral now, rather than being plain mean. Nervously on the drive over to figure eight, you spew out words. “I don’t usually do this.” You say, looking over at Rafe. Rafe doesn’t bother looking at you, he just stares straight out at the road in front of him. You can tell he doesn’t believe you. “Really. I never go home with random guys like this. I never even have se–”. You cut yourself off, already having spilt too much. You curse yourself.

When you’re working, you can keep a strong, dominant attitude and be more confident because it’s all just a part of your character. You can be anyone on stage, you don’t have to be yourself. But as soon as you’re outside of the club, you’re just an anxious fucking mess. Which probably has to do with why you hardly have a sex life.

Rafe looks over to you, occasionally glancing back out at the road. His expression almost makes it seem like he’s actually listening to you; like he cares. You shake that thought out of your head and try to remind yourself that he doesn’t care about what you’re saying, he’s just paying you for sex.

“Wait, so you’re saying that you’re a stripper and a virgin?” He asks, his eyes narrow with confusion, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You laugh. “No! I never said I was a virgin.” You explain.

Rafe smiles when he hears you laugh, not being able to keep his eyes off of your beautiful smile. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you laugh before. A real laugh, not the fake, flirty ones you flash to the guys at the club while working. It’s one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.

“So, what then?” He genuinely asks. You’re shocked with the amount of effort he seems to be putting into this conversation, you never took him for much of a talker.

“I don’t know…I just don’t get many chances I guess.” You say honestly, unsure why you’re sharing this with him of all people. You hate him.

“Bullshit.” Adds Rafe. “You’re a stripper.”

“Okay yeah, I’m a stripper, but that’s ‘cause I need the money. I don’t go home with the guys from the club, well…usually.” You pause for a moment. “...that’s just my job. Outside of the club I get to be myself…and I don’t know, it’s just different.”

“You’re afraid people won’t like who you really are?” His words take you by surprise, making your words get stuck in your throat.

You eventually manage to choke out a response. “Yeah, I…I guess so.” Rafe just nods. Not wanting to admit it, but he gets what you mean. You both sit in a comfortable silence the rest of the way to his place.

Arriving at Tanneyhill, Rafe parks the truck in his driveway and he quickly hops out, rounding the front of the truck and opening your door, allowing you to step out. He leads you up to the front door, grabbing his keys from his pocket and unlocking it, following you inside before shutting the door behind you two.

You take a few steps down the hall, observing the room around you. Now that you’re seeing his home, you wish you tried to get even more money out of him. “C’mon”, he mumbles from behind you. Rafe grabs your duffel bag from you and walks in front of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He sets the bag on a small couch in his room, turning around to look at you. He looks you up and down, admiring your body. His skin crawls with anticipation of what’s to come. He’s finally gonna get to do all the things he’s been dying to do to you since the first time he saw you at the club.

Rafe moves to sit on the bed, patting his lap without saying another word. You know what he wants. Slowly you make your way over to him, straddling his lap so that you’re facing him; your knees on the bed on either side of his legs. For a brief moment, you both stare at each other, getting momentarily lost in one another’s eyes.

Carefully he places his hand on your face, cupping your jaw. His movements are slow and calculated as he leans in, enveloping your lips with his own. The kiss is slow and tender, everything you weren’t expecting.

You pull back just enough to look over at the clock on his nightstand, noting the time in your head. You breathlessly mutter to him, “your hour starts now.” You can see him staring at your lips and without warning he leans in, kissing you. This time, he’s not being so gentle.

Things escalate quickly; clearly he doesn’t want to waste any time with you. Rafe stands up, holding you while not breaking the kiss, he turns the two of you around and lays you on your back, crawling over you. His lips leave yours as he starts to kiss and suck at your neck, eventually finding your ear. Rafe takes your ear between his teeth, gently nipping at it. The feeling of his teeth grazing your skin sends a chill throughout your body.

He gently whispers, “I’m gonna do what I want, but you just tell me if it’s too much, alright? Let me know if you want me to stop.” He presses a soft kiss to your ear as you nod.

“Mhm.” You mumble, acknowledging his words.

“No.” He shakes his head, “Say it.”

You oblige, looking at him as you speak. “I’ll tell you to stop if I need to.”

Rafe smirks. “Good girl.” He wastes no time before his lips come crashing onto yours again; somehow even more passionately than the last.

A soft moan escapes your lips, only making him get even rougher. He kisses you sloppily, his tongue making sure to explore every bit of your mouth. He hovers over you, one hand pressing into the mattress beside your head, holding himself up. And with his free hand, he begins to slide off your shirt.

You try to help him get you out of your shirt by maneuvering yourself around as best you can underneath him. Once your shirt is off, very little is left to the imagination in your work top, which is just a very lacy piece of lingerie. His hand then works at the button on your shorts, once he’s got that undone he starts tugging them off of you, tossing it to his floor. Once you’re in your little work ‘outfit’, he takes a moment to admire you up close.

He’s seen you in skimpy little things like this before, he needs to see the rest of you; all of you. He starts to try and get you out of your lingerie, but there’s too many straps and clips, he can’t get you out of it quick enough. He starts to get frustrated, pausing your kiss as he leans back trying to get a good look at what he’s working with. Rafe’s impatience gets to him and he mumbles a quick “fuck this” just before ripping the thin fabric right off of you.

You let out an involuntary gasp, causing him to look at your face which has an annoyed expression. This was one of your new outfits for work and he just ruined it.

He leans in and presses a soft, wet kiss to your slightly parted lips. “Calm down, I’ll pay for it.” You don’t get a change to respond before he’s pulling the damaged fabric off of you, tossing it onto the floor as well. “Fuuckk, baby.” He mutters, running his free hand down your bare skin, tracing the shape of you as he admires your bare body. “Oh my god,” he whispers, almost inaudibly. “So fucking beautiful.” His mouth finds your chest, immediately latching onto one of your nipples; he sucks at it until he eventually pulls off to give attention to your other breast. His eyes are trained up on you, watching as your head tilts back in pleasure.

Rafe pulls his mouth off with a pop! He stands up from the bed, walking over to his dresser. He opens up the top drawer, taking something out and coming back to you. You see a bundle of rope in his hands, your eyes widen in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be into all that. He really had this planned out. Your excitement builds; the wetness between your legs growing. Rafe sees the thoughts going on in your head.

He tries to reassure you, “relax, it’s fine, m’gonna take real good care of you baby.” He instructs you to scoot up towards the headboard of his bed. Quickly and skillfully, he ties your wrists to the bed, making sure it’s not tight enough to cause pain and not loose enough for you to slip out. You’re not sure how you feel about being tied up and against your will, it definitely leaves you very vulnerable; very out of control. However, for some reason you feel like you can almost trust him. Because so far, since leaving the club, he’s been very tentative and reassuring, even gentle at times. Which is not at all what you had expected from Rafe Cameron.

Soon, his mouth is on you, his tongue lapping up your arousal. You struggle against your restraints, feeling like you need to grip onto something. Your hips try to run from him, only causing him to grab ahold of your thighs, keeping you in place.

“F-fuuck…” You whine.

Rafe mumbles against your cunt and you can feel the vibrations in your core. As his tongue fucks you ruthlessly, you find it hard to keep quiet, a sea of moans escaping from your lips.

“Feel good, hm? You like that?” You pout at the loss of his mouth on you, causing him to chuckle before resuming his actions. His tongue circles your clit, only stopping to suck on it. The heat is building in your lower stomach, almost getting unbearable.

“Ohhh…shitshitshitshitshit” You almost scream. “Fuck! Oh fuck Rafe. Please, please don’t…don’t stop.” Rafe pulls back, “told you you’d be begging.” Your hips buck up, chasing after his mouth, missing the feeling of his tongue. But ultimately, Rafe obeys, his mouth continuing its ministations on you. He adds a finger to the mix, slowly tracing up and down your entrance as he sucks at your clit. He slides his long digit inside of you without warning, thrusting it in and out, curling it up to hit the spongy spot deep inside you. “Fuck,” You cry. “I…fuck. G-gonna cum, Rafe!” Your wrists tug against the rope; hurting just a bit, making you whimper in pain. Though you’re distracted by the feeling of your orgasm creeping in.

Rafe hears your cry and he can tell it’s different from your other moans. His head snaps up from between your legs, making you miss his warm, wet mouth on you. He continues his earlier actions, adding a second finger in you, trying to stretch you out as much as he can; to prepare you for him. Your legs wrap around his head as the barrier in your stomach finally breaks, letting your excruciatingly good orgasm wash over you.

He slowly works you down from your high, pulling his fingers out from you, making you squeeze around nothing, your body hating the absence of him. His tongue continues to lap up all your juices. Then he begins to kiss his way back up your body. When he meets your lips, he kisses you tenderly again, letting you taste yourself on his lips. While kissing you, his hands work on freeing your wrists. He sees the red marks they had left, feeling proud yet also feeling a bit bad for causing you pain. “You did so good…” He praises.

You tug his shirt up over his head and run your hands down his toned chest, still attempting to catch your breath from earlier. Then you work at his belt, tossing it aside and pulling off his pants, also tossing them aside. Now that he’s left in just his boxers, you sit up. You get Rafe to lay down where you had been. Using the same rope to tie his wrists to the bed; though you’re not too confident in your knot-tying abilities and you’re unsure if it’ll be able to contain him.

“W-what are you doing?” He asks almost nervously. Rafe hadn’t been expecting for you to take charge of him, usually that doesn’t happen to him. He pulls against his restraints a bit, quickly finding out the pain that comes with.

“Shh…relax, it’s fine.” You recite to him. He smirks, recognizing his own words.

“Fuckin’ brat.” He spits, trying to seem upset, although he really just thinks it’s the hottest fucking thing ever.

You travel down his body, straddling his legs as you start to slowly pull his boxers off of him. Rafe’s hard cock springs out, shooting up into the air. You gasp at the sight. You can see why he’s always so cocky now, it’s because he’s got the means to back it up.

Your hands find him, gently stroking his cock. Rafe’s head tips back, his eyes shutting in pleasure for a moment. Quickly, he’s watching you again, not wanting to miss the sight of this. Slowly, you put your mouth onto him. Rafe tries to remain in control by bucking his hips up off the bed, shoving his cock deep down your throat, making you gag in response. You pull off of him for a moment and he chuckles. Knowing he has a limited time with you, you don’t wait too long before sinking your mouth back down on him. As your confidence builds, so does your pace.

“Shiiitt baby, feels so fucking good.” He groans. Already, you can feel his dick twitching in your mouth, causing him to whine. Big, tough Rafe Cameron whining underneath you, completely at your mercy. He doesn’t seem so threatening now that you’ve seen him like this. “W-wait, wait baby, wait.” He manages, his words just spilling out. He struggles against his restraints some more before continuing. “Not yet; I don’t wanna cum yet.” You understand, pulling your mouth off of him. You move to undo his restraints, his mouth finding your tits as you lean over him to untie the rope.

The second he’s free, you’re already somehow on your back with him on top of you. Rafe leans over you and you press open-mouthed, wet kisses all across his chest as he does so. He grabs something from his nightstand and when he pulls back you can see the small, shiny wrapper in his hand. Smart, a condom. You hadn’t even thought of that, but it was probably a good idea.

You place your hands over his, taking the condom from him. As fast as you can, you open it and reach down between you two, rolling it onto his cock until it reaches the base. He leans back down on top of you, kissing your neck and jaw. He whispers, “can I?”

You respond jokingly, “that’s what you’re paying for, isn’t it?” Rafe just stares at you, his expression showing his annoyance and frustration with you. Before he asks you to ‘say it’, you add to your previous statement. “Yes, Rafe. Fuck me.”

Rafe doesn’t need any further permission as he lines himself up with your cunt. He wishes he could feel your wetness on his skin, but he knew wearing a condom was the smart thing. Slowly, he presses in. Only entering you about two inches, letting you adjust to him before adding a few more inches. Slowly; inch by inch, Rafe enters you, eventually bottoming out. Rafe stays still for a couple moments until you give him a small nod. He moves his hips slowly, rocking in and out of you at a comfortable pace. Your hands wrap around him, hooking underneath his biceps. Your palms grip onto his back, your nails only slightly digging into his skin. His pace begins to pick up, getting loud moans and whines to come from you.

“Mmmnn…nnhhgghh f-fuuckk, Rafe!” You cry out, a tear rolling down your cheek.

The sight of your tear only turns him on more, in a dark and twisted way. He uses his thumb to wipe away your warm, salty tear off of your cheek.

Despite his gentle touch, Rafe is now drilling into you without regard for your poor cunt. Shamelessly fucking you with a condom on. He looks at the sticky, white mess leaking from your perfect cunt; creating a slick film that coats his entire cock. He reaches out to grab you by your hair, forcing your neck down so that you’re looking at where you and him connect, “See that? That’s all you baby.”

When you’re greeted with the sight of his entire length buried deep inside of you, your eyes begin to roll back as your next orgasm approaches. Rafe clicks his tongue at you, pulling entirely out of you. After a few moments without him inside of you, you immediately start to pout. A whine escapes your lips, “Rafe…”, your hips buck up, as if trying to draw his attention back to your needy cunt.

A small, cocky grin spreads across his face at the sight. His grip tightens in your hair as he begins to tug, directing your gaze right where he wants it, on him. “You gotta fuckin’ see this, baby.” Rafe says proudly, looking back down at your messy pussy. Quickly, he thrusts back into you with force and you watch as your cunt swallows him whole. “See that? See what you do for me?” Rafe speaks in a tone that sounds as though he’s praising you, but he knows that your body has no other option than to take him. “See how fuckin’ well you take me? This pussy was fuckin’ made for my cock.”

Rafe groans, pre-cum now leaking into the condom as his pace becomes sporadic. Still going through the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm, your cunt continues to squeeze tightly around him.

“Holy f-fuck.” Rafe stutters, his fingers moving to your clit, rubbing it in circles. His movements are getting sloppy, arithmetic as he tries to draw another orgasm from you before he finishes. “God fucking damn.” Rafe’s head tips back, you lean up to kiss his neck, occasionally nipping at it, your moans being muffled by him.

Your third orgasm approaches, your entire body trembling as you shriek. “Rafe! Fuck, fuck, I-fuck!” Your screams become muted when he kisses you, shutting you up. Rafe’s own orgasm starts to creep in, his thrusts getting harder for a moment before he stills inside of you. You can feel his cock twitch, followed by the feeling of his hot cum as it fills the condom. He slowly moves, easing you both back down from your highs. Eventually, he pulls out of you, rolling off to the side and laying on his back beside you.

You work on catching your breath as you turn your head to look over at the time; you have about fifteen minutes left with him. You don’t know what he has in store for you now, he’s already succeeded in making you cum three times within forty-five minutes. While he takes a moment to rest, you decide to get on top of him. You pull off his condom, tying the end of it in a knot. Without giving him any kind of warning, you put your mouth back on him, sucking his warm, sticky seed off of his dick. One of his large hands shoots up to hold the back of your head, pushing your mouth all the way down on him. You can feel his semi-hard cock already growing harder again.

“S-shit, babe.” He groans, pulling you up, bringing your face to his and meeting you with another kiss, as if to thank you.

You stand up, your legs shaky. You half walk, half stumble into the adjoining bathroom, tossing the condom in the trash. You make your way back to the bed, laying next to him. You turn your head to look at him. “What else can I do for you? Time’s almost up.” You ask softly.

Rafe huffs, pissed off that you had to remind him that this isn’t real, he’s paying for this, for you. Without a word, he flips over on top of you, his hand wrapping around your throat. There’s something different about him now. His eyes; they carry a bit of darkness, his movements now rough and aggressive. He squeezes your neck lightly, making you gasp in surprise. “Rafe…”

“Shhh…you’re gonna take what I give you.” He squeezes tighter, making it harder for you to breathe, but not impossible. He leans down, kissing all over your neck and chest, leaving bites and bruises in his wake. You let out a small whine involuntarily; you can feel his touch throughout your whole body, like a jolt of electricity. “Shut up, whore.”

Suddenly, Rafe’s thrusting into you again. But wait, he’s not wearing a condom. In your surprise, this way feels so much better. You can feel the warmth and smoothness of his cock as it easily slides in and out of you, making the most lewd noises. You try to speak, but his hand tightens around your throat one final time, actually making it impossible for you to breathe. He stares into your eyes, watching as your face turns red and your panic sets in. You put your hands on his arm, hitting and tugging on it. Just as your vision starts to go dark, he eases his grip. You gasp for air, taking in as much as you can while he continues his attack on your pussy.

You’re about to see stars again for the fourth time tonight when he suddenly pulls out of you. You whine at the loss of him, frustrated that he denied you of your orgasm. Rafe rolls off of you, making your brows furrow in confusion. “What the fuck?” You question.

He looks over to the clock on his nightstand and you follow his gaze. “Time’s up.” He says plainly. You knew what he was doing. This sneaky motherfucker. He purposely got you to your climax right as the hour ended so you’d prove him right and beg for more; beg to let you cum one more time. As much as you wanted to prove him wrong and just leave, you need this, you need to feel him fill you up.

Before he can protest, you straddle his lap, sinking yourself down onto his cock. Immediately he groans, taking hold of your hips. He holds you still, not letting you move yet. “Knew you’d want more.” He says, now guiding you to grind on his dick, this new position lets him hit a new depth inside you. “M’not paying for this now.”

You don’t respond, instead using your energy to bounce up and down his length. Your climax is already near, your entire body shaking and spent from the past three orgasms he gave you. Rafe helps you out, his strong hand gripping onto you as he holds you up, drilling up into your cunt at a god-like pace. How is someone this talented, this fucking perfect, paying for sex? Surely he could get any girl he wants. Although you’re not complaining, four orgasms and a thousand dollars? How could it get any better than that?

You yell out as the band in your stomach snaps, the pressure being relieved as a stream of your liquids squirt out of you, splashing onto his stomach, dripping down to his sheets underneath you both. You’re just as shocked as he is when this happens. You didn’t even know you could do that.

“Fuck,” Rafe growls, continuing to fuck up into your shaking body. Rafe doesn’t warn you before shooting his load into you. But the warmth and fulfillment of his seed feels too fucking good to be mad about. Slowly, you pull yourself off of him. He has to help lift you off of his cock since your body is completely spent. “You’re fucking amazing.” He presses a long, soft kiss to your head.

After helping you clean up a bit, you change into your own clothes. Rafe drives you back to the club, the ride awfully quiet, both of you being too exhausted to talk. When you get there, he pulls his wallet out, grabbing out a large wad of cash and handing it to you. You quickly count it, and then recount it, when your results don’t change, you look up at him with furrowed brows. “That’s for being so fucking good.” Rafe had given you two thousand instead of one. This boosts your confidence a bit, an hour of sex with you is worth two thousand dollars? God, you should’ve fucked Rafe sooner. You get out of his truck and walk towards the club. Rafe speeds off out of the parking lot.

It’s late, but Barry’s still here, though the crowd has definitely shrunken in the last hour. You walk in and find Barry in the back room. He laughs as he takes in your disheveled appearance; your hair and makeup are disastrous.

“Looks like someone had a good time, huh? Now where’s my money?” He asks. You pull out the cash, counting 500 and tossing it to him.

“There. That’s seventy-five percent of what I made.” You start to walk out. But his voice calls you back.

“Shit, you made two thousand in one hour just for fuckin’ him? You got some magic fuckin’ pussy or sum?” He laughs. “I might have to start sellin’ you out more, don’t I?”

Too tired to argue, you walk out. You don’t want to admit it, but you wouldn’t hate having to do that again with Rafe, whether it’s paid or unpaid.

Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate it! PLEASE feel free to leave Rafe x reader requests!! I LOVE getting them!

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hoonjayke · 5 months ago

Text

Yang Jungwon — TRULY MADLY DEEPLY

You are a free spirit, untamed and adventurous. Jungwon is methodical, disciplined and completely predictable. Complete opposites, an unlikely match, Jungwon did not expect his existence would fascinate you, the troublemaker of his course.

PAIRING: — Good boy Jungwon x Bad Girl / Troublemaker Reader (f)

GENRE: fluff, super suggestive, smutyish (kinda), college au, good boy × bad girl trope (we love), strangers to friends to lovers.

WARNINGS: heavy making out, double meaning jokes, mentions of alcohol, skinship, reader falls first Jungwon falls harder, very suggestive in the end but overall fluff.

WC: 10.8k — masterlist - perm taglist

— Author Note: Since I had this idea with Jungwon I couldn't help but write for the last 3 days, he's been wrecking me so bad lately lol. It's my first work with Jungwon and it's a bit longer than my other works, but it's totally worth it. Hope you guys like it, If there are any errors please lmk.

The loud music in the house made Jungwon's eardrums tremble, the number of people increasing by the minute seemed to be slightly suffocating and the drink in his glass was already running low. Jungwon didn't have the habit of going to many parties, he was a little more reserved and liked to be that way. However, he made a few exceptions when Jay invited him saying that it would be legendary.

This time was no different, another party at Jake's house that Jay insisted would be legendary and Jungwon should go to meet more people. Not that Jungwon didn't have many friends, but Jay was way more sociable than him, so he always had someone new to introduce.

As he watched Ni-ki do a funny dance in the middle of the living room, he sat down on the couch that was miraculously free and picked up his phone. He had barely been there for an hour and was already wondering if he should have come.

“I can’t believe you’re already on your phone.” Jungwon looked at Jay, who was in front of him with a look of disbelief. “I’m enjoying the party,” Jungwon replied, “admiring Ni-ki’s beautiful moves.” His tone was laced with sarcasm.

“Man, you need to socialize more like actually talking to people.” Jay sat down next to him sighing “I’ve already met a lot of people thanks to you, thank you very much.” Jungwon saw how the room seemed even more crowded than it had been a few minutes ago.

“You’re impossible,” Jay shook his head negatively, “but at least try to enjoy the food and drinks, Jake chose the best ones.” Jungwon nodded and looked at his own glass, seeing that he would need to refill it soon. “Okay.” He had already passed his final exams so he would try to enjoy this night without thinking too much about studying.

“I'm going to get another drink, do you want one too?” Jay stood up asking uncertainly and Jungwon shook his head, clutching his red cup “I'll finish this one first.” He raised the cup, and Jay gave a side smile “Okay, bro. I'll be right back.”

Jungwon leaned his back against the back of the sofa and turned his gaze to the dance floor that had formed in the center of the room. While trying not to laugh at Jake and Ni-ki having the most hilarious dance battle in the world, his attention was diverted when he felt someone sit down next to him, a sweet scent exuding along with a loud laugh.

He turned around and saw you. Your hair was loose, with a glass in your hand and a – he squinted in the dark lighting and saw a – lollipop – in the other hand. The dark red leather jacket was extremely tight around your waist, contrasting with your black jeans.

“Wow, these guys are hilarious, right?” You commented as if you knew him while Jungwon was still staring at you “Yeah.” He replied automatically and you looked back at him, making him feel embarrassed.

Your eyes scanned his clothes, a perfectly plain dark blue sweatshirt over a white long-sleeved shirt, a thin gray necklace contrasting with his perfectly parted hair. His face was in perfect condition, practically sober. You bit your lower lip trying to contain a smile as you realized that he was clearly one goody two-shoes guy who must have been forced to be there by some friend.

“And why are you sitting here?” You asked curiously, moving closer and Jungwon moved back a little, surprised at how straightforward you were. “I’m enjoying the party.” He replied, looking away and you smiled a little, seeing his reactions.

“Enjoying the party while sitting down?” You raised your eyebrows. Your question made Jungwon run his hand through his hair lightly and give you a closed lip smile “Yeah, something like that.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you realized how right you were about your assumptions. He really was one goody two-shoes guy.

A very cute goody two-shoes.

Your curiosity grew when you realized that he couldn't hold your gaze for long. Ideas began to appear in your mind in a catabolic way while Jungwon remained looking at his cell phone, and then at the track, trying to distract himself.

“Maybe you should try dancing too.” Jungwon looked at you again, giving you a sarcastic smirk and you couldn’t help but notice his small dimple forming. “I can’t dance.” He replied, staring at you as you sucked on the lollipop. “Neither can I, but these are things we do for fun.” He saw your hands searching for something in your pants pockets. “It’s like eating candy while drinking, I know it probably cuts the effect of alcohol, but it’s cool at a party.” Jungwon saw you pull a lollipop out of your pocket and offer it to him. “For you, try it.”

'This girl is weird' was the first thing he thought before taking the candy as you stared at him shamelessly. He felt aware of your gaze and felt his cheeks suddenly heat up.

He wasn't used to interacting with many girls, especially girls who were strangely direct like you.

“Don’t put it away, you have to try it now.” Jungwon was almost putting the candy away when you came closer and held his forearm, making him nervous. He was already in the corner of the couch so he couldn’t move away any further. “O-Okay .” He quickly replied, opening the candy, trying not to look at you.

'Why does she stay so close?' he thought before putting the lollipop in his mouth and you pulled away slightly and clapped your hands slowly, satisfied with Jungwon's reactions. "So? Isn't it good?" You asked and he just nodded without saying a word.

“You’re kind of shy, aren’t you?” Jungwon noticed how you leaned back against the couch, your arm resting on the backrest as your temples brushed against the fingers of your hand. “What’s your name?”

Jungwon had a small internal debate as to why you seemed so interested in talking to him, but decided to introduce yourself anyway. “Jungwon, what’s yours?” He asked and you gave him an excited smile. “Jungwon... that’s a cool name.” You said, lost in thought. “You can create many nicknames. Jungwonie, Jungie, Won...”

With each version of his name being said, Jungwon was sure that you were clearly different from anyone he had ever met. A little crazy, but interesting at the same time. “AH! Wonie too!” Your gaze met his “Well, Jungwon, my name is y/n.” You finally introduced yourself “Nice to meet you, let’s get along well.” You took a sip of your drink, raising the glass like a greeting, making him think that the alcohol was probably cooperating with your actions.

“Sure.” He replied, thinking that your name seemed relatively ordinary compared to your over-the-top personality.

Your little interaction being interrupted by Jay who arrived and gave you both an excited smile “Oh? y/n? I see you finally met my friend Jungwon.”

Jungwon sighed. Of course you know Jay, now everything made sense.

“Hey Jay, it’s been a while.” You saluted Jay and looked at Jungwon. “Yeah, Jungwon is a really nice guy.” Jay noticed how you were looking at Jungwon curiously. “If I knew he was this cute, I would have met him sooner.”

Jungwon swore he felt his whole body stiffen. Did you just call him cute? The tips of Jungwon's ears turned red and you couldn't help but enjoy teasing the boy.

He completely fascinated you.

“Oh?” Jay gave a smirk “It’s because he doesn’t go out that much.” Jay walked towards the couch and you stood up at the same time “I figured.” Jungwon watched you walk “Well boys, now I have to go, but it was great seeing you again Jay,” You turned to Jungwon with a mischievous smile “And it was wonderful meeting you, Jungwonie.” You teased him and he looked away, scratching the back of his neck and nodding.

“See ya.” You gave one last smile and disappeared into the crowd.

Jay looked at Jungwon, laughing at the interaction he just witnessed, and sat down next to him. “I see I interrupted something.” Jay gave a teasing smile, nudging him with his shoulder and Jungwon sighed running his hand over his face “Man, I need another drink.”

Jungwon was relieved to think that he didn't have to worry about seeing you again as this would probably be the only and craziest interaction he would have with you.

That's what he thought.

The week had already started again and Jungwon had arrived early for class as usual. He methodically placed the materials on the table, checking if he had forgotten anything and smiled with satisfaction to see that everything was okay. He opened the laptop, turning it on as the teacher arrived in the room preparing the class material.

Jungwon was extremely responsible with his academic life, always being punctual and completing his assignments on time. He felt good about getting good grades at university and achieving all the goals he set for the future.

For Jungwon, there was nothing better than predictability and discipline in life.

As the teacher taught the class, Jungwon typed up notes on the topic, completely focused on the subject. Before he could write down the last topic spoken, his attention was snatched by your arrival, sitting next to him panting as if you had run a marathon.

“Am I late?” You asked in a whisper and his eyes widened in shock, staring at you in complete disbelief.

“y/n??? What are you doing here?” He asked, completely flabbergasted by the sight of you putting your backpack on your feet and a notebook on the table. The fact that you approached him to the point of sitting next to him as if you were great acquaintances was simply shocking to Jungwon.

You looked at him smiling, getting closer to him. “What do you mean, silly?” Jungwon’s stomach turned at your voice so close to his ear. “We’re on the same major.”

If he already thought you were crazy before, now, he was sure.

Jungwon didn't usually memorize the faces of everyone he had classes with, but he doesn't remember seeing you in any class before. How was it possible that you had the same classes, and your presence had gone unnoticed? You were like a hurricane that arrived and caught everyone's attention.

“I’ve never seen you in this class before.” He answers quietly, turning his attention back to the teacher’s explanation. “That’s because I sit in the back, Jungwonie.” You replied, poking his cheek with your index finger, making him give you a deadly look that amused you.

Teasing Jungwon has officially become one of your favorite hobbies.

“y/n, I need to focus on this class.” He said seriously and you smiled sideways “Sorry, I’ll let you study.” You straightened up and decided to write in your notebook while Jungwon sighed, running his fingers over his eyebrow.

'Is this a dream?' He wondered internally as he gave you quick, surreptitious glances at how you wrote things in such a messy pattern that it made him want to correct everything into an organized bulleted summary.

No margins, paragraphs or spaces. You simply wrote the way it came to your mind.

“You know Jungwon, you get super hot when you get serious like this.” Jungwon looked at you shocked again by your words taking away all the little focus he had. His ears and cheeks were clearly red. A heat rising up his neck.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind crazy?” He whispered back with a disbelieving look that amused you deeply. “Yep, I’ve heard it many times. I’m aware of it.”

Your smile intrigued him. How could someone act like that after just one interaction at a party? He sighed and turned away, trying to ignore your presence, even though he knew it would be impossible.

“This subject is important, it will be on the next tests.” He commented one last time trying to make you focus on the teacher and not on his profile.

“Okay, I’ll pay attention.” Your posture now resembled his, looking straight ahead, focusing on absolutely everything the teacher was saying.

After a few minutes, since Jungwon didn't say anything else, you felt curious and took the opportunity to watch how he typed on his laptop. The veins that ran from his forearm to his hands distracting you. You couldn't resist and sat a little further to the right, slowly approaching him until you could see the screen of his laptop, admiring how he managed to write everything down in such an organized way.

Your scent invaded Jungwon's senses, making him turn around slowly and be caught off guard by your face so close and move away again. "What are you doing?" He asked, seeing how you seemed to be practically glued to his side. "I'm seeing how you take your notes." He hadn't noticed before, but now he saw that you were chewing gum. "They're very organized."

He nodded and decided to ignore what you were doing and try to focus on what he was writing again. “You should do the same.” An idea popped into your head and you smiled. “I think you could teach me.” He scrunched his face at the suggestion. “No thank you, I pass.” He sighed seeing that the last few topics were incomplete due to the distraction that was your presence.

“Geez Jungwonie, don’t be so mean.” Jungwon jumped when he felt you quickly touch his left knee before crossing your arms and staring at him “I want to be a good student.”

“Then start paying attention in class and stop talking.” He gently brought his laptop more to his side and nodded at the teacher with his head.

You pouted playfully, but then smiled, enjoying how Jungwon seemed more expressive than he had been at the party.

Jungwon was more fun than you thought.

The rest of the class you decided to stay quiet and pay attention to what the teacher was saying. Jungwon, on the other hand, had his mind full, wondering how you could be like that. Even though you stayed quiet for the rest of the class, the fact that you were standing next to him and occasionally glancing at his summary to get an idea of what to write in yours took all of his attention away.

When class time ended, he mentally thanked himself that those minutes of mental torture were over. Your presence made him more nervous than any bad joke Jay ever told in his life.

“Jungwon, I loved sitting next to you, let’s do it more often.” You said and he sighed, feeling an absurd mental fatigue. “I hope not.” You laughed at his sincerity and pinched his cheek before grabbing your bag to leave. “Bye, wonie!” Every time you said a nickname for Jungwon, he felt a shiver run through his body.

He had no idea why you seemed so interested in him, but he knew your presence messed with his focus and he needed to be careful about that.

“Man, it’s been so hot lately.” Jake commented, fanning himself with his shirt as he and Jungwon walked towards a drink machine near the dorm. “It’s becoming unbearable.”

“I agree, I get thirsty all the time.” Jungwon stood in front of the machine pondering what he would choose to drink.

Jake chose a soda while Jungwon chose a natural orange juice “Nothing better than a cold drink to cool down.” Jake commented and Jungwon laughed as they walked to the campus building, but they stopped on the way when Jake pointed to a girl walking with an old lady by your side “Hey, isn't that y/n?”

Jungwon looked in the direction Jake was pointing and paid attention to the scene.

You were helping an old lady cross the street while she held onto your arm. Your smile was big as you interacted with the old lady. “Do you know her?” Jungwon asked and Jake nodded “She’s kind of peculiar, but she’s nice.” He replied and Jungwon watched the scene as you left the old lady in a safe place and then ran back to campus.

“She’s definitely peculiar.” Jungwon replied, continuing to walk with Jake before hearing you call his name “Jungwon!!”

You waved from afar and the boys watched you slowly approach. “What a coincidence to find you here.” You commented and Jungwon continued drinking his juice “We take the same course, it’s not that much of a coincidence.” He responded by turning his head to the side and you laughed at his answer.

“Indeed, you’re right. But it’s always good to see you.” You replied, making him look away and turned to Jake. “It’s nice to see you too, Jake.”

Jake chuckled “That’s good to know. Were you helping that old lady?” He asked, and you put your hands in the pockets of your jeans nodding your head “She seemed to be having trouble crossing the street, so I wanted to help her.” You commented, and he smiled “It’s nice how you took time to help her.”

“That’s what anyone should do.” You replied and turned to Jungwon “And you Jungwonie, where are you going?” He, who had been silent this whole time, looked at you confused “I’m going to the next class...” He commented as if it was an obvious thing that you should know since it was class time.

“Oh, you’re so disciplined Jungwon, I also have a class now, but I think I’ll go out for some ice cream since it’s so hot.” You replied as you stretched slightly “You’re going to ditch class?!” Jungwon widened his eyes in disbelief and you laughed “Relax, it’s an extra class that doesn’t have mandatory attendance.” Jungwon sighed at your response “Still...”

Jake was silently watching the interaction and Jungwon and chuckled when he realized the interesting mood between you two.

“Anyway, I have to go now. See you guys around.” You replied by waving goodbye with your right hand and left in the opposite direction, making Jungwon run his hand through his hair, shaking his head negatively.

“She’s so weird...” He spoke softly, but Jake laughed, putting his arm on Jungwon’s shoulder. “And what was this atmosphere between you two?” His friend asked, moving his eyebrows mischievously.

“What atmosphere?” Jungwon replied, walking ahead and Jake following behind. “Come on man, I could feel the sparks flowing between you two.” His friend said teasingly.

Jungwon sighed, deciding to ignore Jake's comment. "Let's go, I don't want to be late for class."

Jake just smirked and followed Jungwon "Alright sir, I'm coming."

It was late at night when Jungwon was in his room sitting at his desk, making his plan for the next weeks. He separated the curriculum for each subject and organized the subjects by day so he could get ahead and study in advance.

He contently smiled when he finally organized everything in his digital planner and could start to get ahead with all the subjects without stress for the next few days.

As he turned off his laptop, his thoughts were interrupted when his cell phone vibrated on the table and the screen lit up. He was surprised to see that he had received a message from an unknown number at this time of night, since his friends knew that he usually went to bed early.

When he unlocked his phone to check the messages he received, Jungwon couldn't believe what appeared in front of his eyes.

[Unknown] — Good night, Jungwonie.

[Unknown] — Are you awake?

22:31 pm

‘It couldn't be.’

[Jungwon] — How did you get my number?

22:32 pm

Read.

It seemed like an endless cycle, when he thought he was at peace, you appeared out of nowhere taking away all the focus he had.

He stared impatiently at his cell phone, seeing that you'd read the message and hadn't replied, making him anxious. His heart began to beat faster with the fright he got when his cell phone started ringing, and he saw that you were calling him.

Awkwardly he tried to lower the volume of the ringing that broke the silence in his room.

He could ignore you, block you and simply pretend nothing happened, but something inside him couldn't resist the curiosity he felt if he answered. What would be the reason for your call?

He struggled for a few seconds before accepting the call and putting the phone to his ear and hearing your voice on the other end.

"Oh?" You answered Jungwon "I thought you were going to ignore me." Your warm laugh tickled Jungwon's ear. "You didn't answer my question." His voice came out a little more serious than he intended.

"Oh, it was really easy, I asked Jay to give me your number because I wanted to talk to you." The sound of your breathing getting louder because the microphone was closer to your mouth.

'Of course it was Jay.' He thought looking at the ceiling.

"So? What do you want to talk about?" Jungwon leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, thinking about what would be so important that you would get his number and call him late at night.

"Well, I was feeling so lonely, so I thought about you and decided to call you." Jungwon's cheeks heated up at the way you said it, even though it didn't have the double meaning that crossed his mind.

"So, basically, you just wanted to call to pass the time?" He wanted to confirm his suspicion, and you laughed "That's right!"

"Haa..." He let out a laugh through his nose and you managed to catch it over the phone "You're laughing now, aren't you?" Your voice sounded excited "I can't believe I'm not there to see your smile in person."

Jungwon decided to get up from his chair and go lie down on his bed, ignoring the whirlwind of sensations that always arose every time he interacted with you.

He couldn't understand how you managed to keep him hooked with your unexpected actions. Maybe it was the curiosity he felt about what kind of person you were and why you acted that way.

"You don't make any sense," He replied looking at the ceiling placing his arm over his forehead "shouldn't you go to sleep if you're bored? It's already late."

You laughed, amused by Jungwon's authoritative tone. He was so prudent.

"Jungwon, when I'm bored, I don't sleep, I do something to have fun." He closed his eyes again as he listened to you "And it's not even that late." You replied and he sighed feeling tiredness hit him "For me it is." Jungwon slept early, his sleep was sacred.

"Well then, let's talk until you fall asleep." You said and he thought how weird that was.

Never in his entire life had he stayed on the phone with someone until he fell asleep, this was completely new to him.

"I'm an easy sleeper, so you'll probably be talking to yourself soon." He didn't deny the proposal, but he didn't want to give in so easily. He knew you'd do whatever you wanted anyway.

You chuckled, "Hmm, that's fine by me." The way your voice seemed sweet despite the joking tone made Jungwon wonder how he ended up in this situation.

As you talked about random things and funny stories from your adventures, Jungwon, who was listening intently, felt his eyes grow heavy. He vaguely remembered you talking about running away from the police and how you had a pet rabbit that ran away before falling fast asleep.

"And then he said— Won?" You giggled when you heard his soft breathing on the other end and no response. "Have sweet dreams." You wished him hanging up the call, letting Jungwon rest for now.

Jungwon was coming back from the library when he saw you from afar and started to wonder when your presence started to become normal in his daily life. You started to sit next to him when you had classes together, but now you let him focus better. He was also used to it when you talked to him in the hallways or sent him a picture of something completely random during the week.

Little by little he was no longer scared when you appeared out of nowhere, but despite being so present, you had the gift of mysteriously disappearing, and he realized that he didn't know much about you other than the barbaric stories you told him.

As he walked to the classroom you stopped him in his tracks with a suspicious smile. Jungwon looked at you curiously wondering what you were planning this time.

“Good morning, Jungwonie. Where are you going?” Jungwon looked at you, noticing how different you looked today, wearing a black denim skirt and a white turtleneck while drinking strawberry milk. You looked almost angelic.

“To class, as always.” He replied, taking a step back as you approached him.

“So, I have an idea.” Jungwon eyed you suspiciously “I’m afraid of your ideas.” He replied, making you laugh and pull him by the shirt to speak in a lower tone “Let’s skip class.” You whispered, and Jungwon sighed “Are you out of your mind?” He decided to ignore you and keep walking, but you stopped in front of him again “Hear me out!! It would only be today, and you’re already advanced in the subject. One class wouldn’t be a big deal.”

Jungwon looked up at the lights on the ceiling wondering why he was still listening to you. Clearly you had ideas that involved - not being responsible - with college.

“And what are you planning?” He asked and you smiled seeing that he didn’t deny the idea immediately.

“It’s a surprise.” You grabbed Jungwon’s sleeve and he shook his head “Absolutely not.” He looked at you and noticed that you didn’t have a backpack “You didn’t even come with a backpack? Were you already planning this?”

“Jungwon, I promise it will be fun, pretty pleeease, just for today!” You pulled his hand, and his eyes widened “You won’t fail for missing a single class, you know that.”

He was shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he debated internally about what to do. If it were the old days, he would have refused and gone to class immediately, but now he was actually debating whether or not to skip class.

Jungwon picked up his cell phone and saw that the next class would be a subject he was good at. “I can only miss the next class, then I have to come back.” He looked back at you, biting his lip anxiously, and you gave him a blinding smile.

“You’re going to love it, Jungwonie!” You intertwined your fingers with his hand and pulled him out of the college, making Jungwon’s heart suddenly race at the contact.

'What the hell am I doing?' He thought in disbelief that he would actually skip class just because you suggested it.

☆

Jungwon stared at you silently, watching you play with a cat on your lap. Apparently, your big idea was to skip class to go to a cat cafe near campus, because according to you, it would be easier for Jungwon to get back to his next class.

It was funny how you showed a new side of yourself every time Jungwon interacted with you. A part of him didn't want to admit it, but he was having fun. The day was peaceful and the cats in the place were super docile.

“Do you like cats?” He asked as a kitten snuggled into his lap. “I never thought much about it, but they’re cute.” You replied seeing how relaxed Jungwon looked.

You looked at him with a side smile, noticing how he looked away. His reactions always amuse you to the extreme. How could he be so cute? Your desire to tease him grew even more.

Jungwon lowered his gaze and stroked the head of the cat that slept on his lap.

“You look like a cat.” You said out of nowhere and he looked at you quickly “A cat? Why?” He asked and you got closer “Because you’re cute and serious.”

Jungwon's cheeks heated up when he saw how you were staring at him. “You know what? I guess I really like cats.” You teased him and laughed, watching as he gave you an awkward smile. His little dimple showed, and you held yourself back from touching his face.

Looking at the time on his phone, Jungwon saw that it was almost time to leave. The kitten that was on his lap woke up, stretched and slowly left, making Jungwon get up.

Jungwon offered his hand so you could stand up, since you were wearing a skirt. You noticed his kind gesture and gave a sincere smile, thinking how considerate he was, even though you disturbed him daily.

“I really enjoyed hanging out with you, Jungwon.” You squeezed his hand and looked into his eyes as you stood up straight. Jungwon nodded, giving you a tight smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Yeah, it was nice.” Was all he said before turning to leave the place.

You let go of Jungwon’s hand and followed him in a comfortable walk back to campus. Even though you were silent, Jungwon’s presence alone was extremely comforting, and you had already teased him enough that day.

Deep down, he didn't want to come back to campus, but he wouldn't admit it.

You were finishing washing the cups when you heard the noise of the cafe door opening. Your eyes saw that it was Heeseung arriving late with a smile on his face “Sorry I'm late, thanks for saving me once again.” He commented as you took off your apron and handed it to him.

“You owe me one. This is the fourth time I’ve covered your emergency shift.” You stretched as you watched the night begin to draw in through the cafe window. Every now and then, you would do favors for Heeseung, partly because he was your best friend, but also because he always helped you out when you were in trouble.

“Here, to make it up to you.” You looked at two tickets in Heeseung’s hand “It’s an underground rock band. They’re playing later.” Your friend looked at you mischievously “You can go with Jungwon.” He whispered, making you quickly grab the tickets, seeing the band’s name.

You looked at him suspiciously at the mention of Jungwon's name. Ever since Heeseung saw you laughing on your phone while talking to Jungwon, he never missed an opportunity to tease you.

Even though the time was a little late, you smirked thinking about the vision of going to a concert with Jungwon in the middle of the night.

Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea.

“You’re a genius, Heeseung! Thank you!!” You grabbed your bag and left the place.

☆

Jungwon was in a deep sleep when he woke up to the sound of his cell phone ringing. He rubbed his eyes, trying to read the name on the screen and saw that it was you. 'Of course it's her.' Sliding his finger across the screen, he answered while yawning slightly “Hello?”

“Jungwonieeee, were you sleeping?” Your loud voice made Jungwon move the phone slightly away from his ear “I was.” He turned on the light in the room trying to get rid of the rest of the sleep he had “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb your sleep, but I have an invitation to make.”

“What is it?” Jungwon sighed, knowing he wouldn’t escape whatever you were planning.

“Let’s go out now.” You said directly, “My friend Heeseung gave me two tickets for a concert later, we need to go.”

Heeseung? Jungwon turned his head to the side at the mention of the boy. He remembered seeing him before at a few parties, but never interacted with him enough. A strange feeling formed in the pit of Jungwon's stomach, but he decided to ignore it.

“y/n, I should be sleeping.” He sighed, scratching his head as he looked at the schedule. “And we have class tomorrow! It’s still Wednesday.” You laughed at Jungwon’s worried tone.

“No problem, breakfast tomorrow is on me.” Jungwon was silent for a moment. “Is the place far?” He asked, getting out of bed. “Noo, it’s really close.” You cheered up seeing that Jungwon was interested “Come on, it’ll be cool.” Your voice seemed more seductive than usual at that moment.

“Okay, send me the location.” He said and you laughed “Silly, I’m already waiting for you in front of your building.” He widened his eyes and opened the curtain of the bedroom window seeing nothing on the street “I’m just kidding.”

Your laughter made him smile unexpectedly. “You’re impossible.” He headed towards the bathroom, knowing he would have to take a shower and get ready at the last minute.

“I send you the location, byee Jungwonie!!” You hung up, and Jungwon decided to get ready for yet another adventure you got him into.

☆

You were standing outside the bar where the concert would take place when you saw Jungwon arriving. Your eyes widened when you saw how much more handsome he looked than usual. He was wearing a black tank top with dark jeans and a leather jacket that adorned him perfectly.

When he gave a slight smile, running his hand through his hair, you felt a heat rise up your neck. He was so hot.

“Heyy, Jungwonie.” You pushed yourself off the wall and walked towards Jungwon. “So, you really came, huh?”

“I promised, didn’t I?” He stepped closer and you nodded with a small chuckle “Of course.”

He saw the door and stood beside you. “So, shall we go in?” You asked, and he nodded.

The night was just beginning.

The place was surprisingly full, with many people bumping into each other and Jungwon instinctively took your hand so that you wouldn't get lost in the place. The band was finishing adjusting the instruments on stage when you reached a good position to see the stage.

“Are you a fan of this band?” Jungwon asked beside you and you laughed “I’ve never heard of them in my entire life.” Jungwon leaned down slightly to hear you. Your whisper made him bite his lips trying not to laugh.

Going to a rock concert of a band you didn't know on a random Wednesday was so you.

“You're funny.” He spoke lowly, but you heard it anyway. The loud sounds of the instruments made your voices almost inaudible.

As the band began to perform their opening sets, Jungwon was thinking about how crazy this all was. He was at a bar, in the middle of the week, to see a show because you called him.

In a way, in the last few weeks, he had been living a lot more since he met you, but at the same time, it was scary. It was distant from everything he had planned, and it made him wary.

You were like a breeze that suddenly appeared when the sun was too hot, but at the same time disappeared just as quickly. Even though you had built a kind of friendship, he still wanted to know your dreams, more of your story... he simply wanted to know more about you.

His train of thought was interrupted when he saw that the place started to get crowded, and some guys started pushing you. Instinctively, he stood behind you, giving the rude guys a deadly glare.

You could tell he wanted to protect you, but he was too shy to touch you. His hands were in the air around you, and you smiled, pulling his hands to your waist. Jungwon was caught off guard, seeing you turn slightly to say something, “What a gentleman...” Your smile distracted Jungwon “That’s better.” He nodded, feeling his ears heat up.

When the show started, you didn't talk much, but you laughed a lot because you took the opportunity to scream when everyone else screamed and clapped madly at the end of each song. Jungwon would pull you into his chest occasionally when he saw that someone wanted to cross in front of you and you knew you made the right decision to invite him out.

☆

When the concert ended, Jungwon thought that he wanted to enjoy it more. As much as it was fun, you couldn't talk much because of the volume of the instruments.

“So Jungwonie, did you like it?” You asked as you walked down the street with him. “I liked it. It was very different from the concerts I’ve been to before.” Jungwon put his hands in his pants pockets as you both went to a part of the city that didn’t have many people at that time.

You walked up some steps that led to a small park that had a beautiful view of a part of the city. The place was empty, and Jungwon sat next to you on a small bench there.

“You know, I really admire you Jungwon.” You confessed as you looked at the moon that it looked particularly beautiful that night. “Why?” He asked curiously.

“You seem to have everything in order. You’re always so organized, I bet you have everything planned.” He looked at you intently. This time you were being sincere, as if you wanted to vent about something. “In a way, yes, but it requires a lot of sacrifices, so it’s not that simple.” Jungwon sighed, knowing all the daily sacrifices he makes for his goals.

“I wish I was like that,” You gave a sad smile. “It’s like I can’t follow through on the goals I set for myself.” Jungwon was silent for a moment, thinking about what to say. “I know we’re very different, but everyone has felt lost at some point in their lives.” You looked at him, seeing how kind his expression was. “Until you find your focus, it’s okay to fail and try again.”

You looked away, feeling your eyes water slightly. Maybe you just needed to hear that.

“And personally speaking,” He cleared his throat, “I also wish I could be a little freer like you, but it’s not easy for me.” You looked at him in surprise. Jungwon didn’t seem like the type of person to say something like that directly. “I like being disciplined, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go out for a few days.” He gave a wry smile, scratching the back of his neck, and you laughed.

“Well, I told you it would be cool.” You laughed, standing up from the bench. “You’re actually a pretty nice guy, Jungwon.” Your gaze lingered on Jungwon’s figure who looked like an angel under the moonlight. “I hope you don’t change.”

Jungwon gave a cute smile that made you want to hug him “I promise I won’t.” He replied, standing up too “Now let’s go, because tomorrow you’ll pay for breakfast.” He went ahead and you laughed “Hey! Wait for me!”

And so, you had a peaceful walk back to the dorm in a wonderful mood that you both didn't want to end.

Jungwon didn't know how you ended up in his room, but you were there.

You looked around the room, analyzing each decoration and Jungwon felt aware of your presence. Everything was meticulously organized just as you expected.

Jungwon wasn't one to have a lot of things. He was a believer in necessary minimalism. His desk had only a few notebooks and books neatly stacked, a simple closet, and his bed had a dark blue sheet neatly folded.

His room was very clean, and you smiled seeing how he had a small frame with a family photo and some keychains next to it.

"Your room is nice..." You turned to Jungwon seeing how tense he looked. "It's just like you." He gave an awkward smile and looked away. "It's pretty plain, but I like it."

You approached slowly with your hands behind your back "Jungwon, I'm curious..." Jungwon looked at you, feeling his stomach churn "About what?"

Your gaze was firmly fixed on the boy who had rosy cheeks watching every step you took.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Jungwon almost choked on your question as you ran your fingers down his shirt. “Be honest.”

He swallowed hard and looked away, "Y-Yes." You smiled, grabbing his chin and turning his gaze back to you, "You know, Jungwon, you're so cute." He took a step back and you got even closer.

"I like that." Your hands touched Jungwon's chest, who felt the back of his calf touch his bed. He walked backwards so much that he ended up sitting on his own bed, seeing you in front of him with an amused smile.

Your makeup was beautiful, your cheeks were flushed and your lips looked softer than usual. Jungwon couldn't speak at the sight, his heart racing at the way you bent down to be in his line of sight.

Jungwon was sweating, feeling a sudden heat rise through his body. He moved away slightly, leaning on his hands, unable to say a word.

This was wrong. He wasn't the kind of guy to take girls to his room, but he couldn't resist you. He knew he should probably be nice and find a way to get you out safely, but he couldn't say a word.

Not when you were climbing on top of him without any warning. Jungwon's breath hitched as you ran your hands down his chest, your face close to his.

He looked away and you giggled. "Have you done this before?" Jungwon felt a shiver run through his body when he heard your voice whispering in his ear. "Yes." He spoke quickly and you arched an eyebrow. What a surprise.

You chuckled, your breath fanning his face. You pulled his face up by his chin to face him, your thumb going up to Jungwon's mouth. “You have pretty lips." You whispered as you slid your finger across his bottom lip. "You too." He replied, staring at you.

You were surprised by his answer and gave a mischievous smile. Jungwon gasped when he felt your full weight on his lap, his heart was beating so hard with so much nervousness that he could only swallow dryly waiting for your next steps.

Your left hand was holding his shoulder, and you had such a deep gaze that he felt hypnotized. He would do anything you wanted if you kept looking at him like that.

With both hands you pushed his coat back, taking it off. He threw the coat to another corner while you noticed how red his ears were.

"Jungwonie," you called out to him and he looked at you eagerly "do you want to touch me?" Your question made Jungwon feel butterflies in his stomach. If you could read his mind you would know that was all he could think about right now.

"Yes." He sighed, closing his eyes as he felt your lips place a kiss on the corner of his neck.

Your hands pulled his hands to your hips. “You can.” He tentatively moved his hands from your hips to your waist, swallowing hard when you moved closer.

Your hands touched his cheeks, bringing his face closer to yours. He looked into your eyes, and you smiled, touching your noses. You were so close he couldn't think straight. Your breath mingled with his as you closed the distance and kissed him.

Jungwon felt the world stop with the movement of your lips on his. A soft, delicate kiss making him tighten your waist. You moved your hands to his hair, making him more desperate.

He brought your body closer to his and you smiled into the kiss, his cheeks redder than usual. He brought his face closer to yours again and you pulled away, teasing him.

He was so hot when he looked desperate.

"Easy, I'm not going anywhere." You replied and he felt slightly embarrassed, but that soon passed when you kissed him again, your hands going up under his shirt.

His breath hitched as he felt the touch of your fingers on his skin. His arm wrapped around you completely, the kiss becoming more desperate.

He pulled away to kiss your neck but was interrupted by a loud noise.

— BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP —

Jungwon's eyes widened as he woke up suddenly, his chest rising and falling in shock from the alarm as he stared at the ceiling of his own room. He was dreaming. It wasn't real.

He sat up in bed and ran his hand over his sweaty forehead. His entire body felt hot with the shame he was feeling at that moment.

A feeling of guilt invaded his chest. How could he dream things like that? Especially about you. His fingertips touched his own mouth thinking about how everything seemed so real. He couldn't forget.

The headache from sleeping so little seemed unbearable as he tried to adjust to the brightness of the room. He pulled off his own sheet, throwing it to the side, trying to get up.

He had to face the reality that it wasn't real, and he would need to see you and pretend to be normal. He looked at his watch and broke out in a cold sweat when he remembered that you are going to have coffee together that morning.

'Great.' He thought indignantly to himself.

☆

After he got ready to go out, he looked in the mirror and realized how bad he looked. Dark circles under his eyes and his excitement on the floor.

He didn't know how to forget his dream, and much less how he would face you that morning. He sent you a message asking where you were. Maybe it would be better for him to ignore everything he dreamed and continue like nothing happened.

He walked into the campus and was greeted by Jake who looked at him confused "Man, you alright?" He noticed how Jungwon looked more dejected than usual.

"Just a rough night." He sighed, picking up his phone and seeing that you still hadn't responded to his message.

"You should take care of yourself, the heat is terrible. I heard that two people fainted today because of it." He commented and Jungwon nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind." He replied "By the way, have you seen y/n? I texted her earlier and she hasn't responded yet." Jungwon asked and Jake shook his head "I don't know, but you can ask her best friend." Jake looked back and pointed down the path "I just passed him, it was a boy in a red shirt and black pants, I think you know him, it’s Heeseung."

"Thanks, see you around." Jungwon left first and Jake smiled seeing how this time it was him who was looking for you, and not the other way around.

As Jungwon walked down the hallway looking for Heeseung, a part of him felt pathetic. He didn't understand why he seemed so desperate to find you, you could be busy and then you would answer, but he felt like he needed to see you.

He made a small run touching your best friend's shoulder who looked at him curiously. Heeseung recognized him instantly "You're Heeseung, right?" He asked worriedly and the boy smiled gently "Yes, and you're Jungwon, Jay's friend. I remember you." Jungwon just nodded before asking what he really wanted to know "Do you know where y/n is? I texted her and she didn't respond so I got worried."

Heeseung widened his eyes, understanding the situation. "Dude, didn't you hear?" Jungwon felt his heart tighten at Heeseung's tone. "What?" Heeseung sighed. "She fainted because of the heat. She's in the campus infirmary, I'm coming back from there."

Jungwon felt all the color drain from his face when he heard the news. You? Fainted? You, who has so much energy and never sit still?

“Where is the infirmary? I need to go now." He despaired and Heeseung grabbed his shoulder "Calm down, otherwise you'll be the next one to faint if you act like this." Jungwon let out the air he didn't know he was holding. All the worries he felt before disappeared because you were all that mattered right now.

"I'll take you there." Heeseung lightly squeezed Jungwon's shoulder. "Come on, I'll show you the way."

"Is she okay?" Jungwon asked on the way and Heeseung nodded. "Yeah, she was taking a nap when I went there. She must have been tired."

Jungwon felt a little more relieved, but he still wanted to see you with his own eyes. Heeseung took him to the place, leaving him at the entrance. "I need to go now, take good care of her." He said and Jungwon thanked him for his help. "Of course, thanks for showing me the way."

Heeseung gave Jungwon a friendly smile, "It's okay brother, don't worry." He replied and Jungwon felt a pang of guilt for harboring strange feelings towards Heeseung who seemed like a nice guy.

He said goodbye and Jungwon entered the infirmary looking for you. His eyes searched the area until he saw you lying on the bed with your eyes closed and sleeping peacefully. He carefully approached and sat down on the chair next to your bed.

He wouldn't leave until you woke up.

While you were sleeping, he noticed how long your eyelashes were and how relaxed your eyebrows looked when you slept. How angelic your face looked when you were expressionless.

He brushed a few strands of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. Your cheeks were slightly pale, perhaps from the weakness.

He looked around and saw that there was no food or water there, so he left his bag on the chair and went to buy some supplies from the machine outside the room. When he came back you seemed to have shifted position, your arm gently hugging the sheet.

He side smiled at how cute you were sleeping and started to think about how he ended up in this situation. You were just a strange girl he met at a party but now became important to the point where he watched you sleep in an infirmary ward.

Your presence was already part of Jungwon's life and he couldn't ignore it. His fingers lightly caressed your cheeks, warming the place.

Jungwon couldn't deny it, you were important to him.

When you started to move, he retracted his hand and looked at you curiously. You blinked your eyes slightly, stretching. Your gaze scanned the room, realizing it was the infirmary and finally noticing Jungwon's presence by your side.

"Jungwon?" You asked confused looking around "Why am I here?" Your head hurt a little and Jungwon made you lie down again.

"You fainted from the heat, you should stay here, rest and hydrate yourself." He said as he adjusted the pillow for you.

You searched your mind for your last memory and remembered that you had arrived at the campus gate before everything went dark out of nowhere. Jungwon looked at you intently, his shy persona being replaced by his comforting presence by your side.

"We were supposed to have coffee together." You mumbled sadly as you looked at him. Jungwon gave the first smile of the day, lightly caressing your forehead. "Your health is more important. We have all the time in the world for that." He answered gently and you felt your heart melt at that.

Jungwon looked even more handsome today. His presence was like an anchor you could rely on. He brought you unparalleled peace.

"You need to hydrate." He handed you a bottle of water so you could drink. "Okay." You replied, drinking the water and trying to relax. Your gaze fell on Jungwon who was staring at you, and you looked away, feeling self-conscious.

"You need to go to class." Jungwon snickered at your comment "I'm not leaving here." He replied taking the bottle back and giving you a cupcake so you could eat.

You gave Jungwon a mischievous look. “Oh? Jungwonie is going to skip class to take care of me?” You chuckled “I’m honored.”

He touched your cheek and smiled, "Looks like you're feeling better already." He commented and you nodded "Yes! Thanks to you Jungwonie, thank you very much."

"You're welcome." He saw how happy you looked and remembered the dream he had earlier. He looked away, feeling his heart suddenly race.

This was not a good time to remember that.

"I'll recover and I promise we'll have breakfast." Your voice was softer as you lay back down on the bed, closing your eyes as tiredness took over.

"Then recover quickly." Jungwon said smiling seeing how comfortable you looked to try to sleep again in front of him "Sweet dreams."

He let you rest while he played with his phone. As long as you were okay, nothing else mattered.

After you had fully recovered, Jungwon bombarded you with messages daily reminding you to eat regularly, sleep at the right times, and prioritize your health.

Since he was attentive and helped you over the past few days, you suggested camping with Jungwon over the weekend as a way of saying thank you.

You rented a car and bought a tent so you could enjoy the nice weather. While researching perfect camping spots, you found a great one that wasn't too far away, wasn't too crowded, and had a beautiful setting.

Jungwon was initially worried. Apparently, he wanted to avoid any scenario that could be dangerous for you, but you assured him that you were already recovered, and it would be fine.

Reluctantly he accepted, and now you were at the site setting up the tent until you noticed that the weather seemed cloudier than usual.

"The breeze is great." Jungwon said as he took a sip of water and rested after holding the heavy irons at the base of the tent.

"At least that." You replied, closing the tent's zipper and seeing that it had turned out great "It turned out perfect, we'll be able to enjoy it a lot."

Jungwon smiled "Yes. By the way, when are we going to set up the other tent?" He asked and you looked at him confused "There is no other tent."

The silence that hung in the air was embarrassing.

Jungwon was speechless and you began to realize that since you only bought one tent you would probably have to sleep in it together. His cheeks turned slightly pink and Jungwon cleared his throat trying to lighten the mood "I can sleep in the car, no problem."

"No way." You turned around and replied immediately "You did all the work, you're not going to sleep on the hard car seat."

Jungwon sighed at your stubbornness "y/n, I won't let you sleep in the car either." You gave him a smirk "Then let's sleep together."

Another silence filled the air.

Jungwon felt his throat close up, memories of the dream he had reappearing in his mind.

"It's fine with me, if you want..." Your voice sounded slightly hesitant, a little embarrassed. Something new for Jungwon, considering you always seemed confident.

"Are you sure?" He asked, looking at you. "Absolutely." You returned his gaze and answered honestly.

He knew that there was no going back on this decision, so he accepted the consequences that would probably come from it.

"Come on Jungwon, the day is beautiful, and I saw that there is a small river there where we can take some pictures." You opened the tent and went out first, changing the subject.

He gave a smile, following you. “Show me then.”

You two walked around the place and realized that you were the only ones there. A small river ran through the place making the landscape even more beautiful.

"Jungwon, take some pictures of me." You said laughing as you posed holding your summer dress. He smiled as he recorded everything.

"Go a little to the left." He directed you and you smiled as if it were a professional photoshoot "Jungwon come too."

He walked over to your side and you pulled him closer so you could take a selfie. He smiled wider, showing off his dimple, and you put your faces together for a cute photo.

You swiped your finger on the screen looking at the pictures, feeling happy with the interaction while Jungwon looked at you from the corner of his eye. He couldn't ignore how much more beautiful you looked today.

Your loose hair and red dress matched perfectly. He stared at you, feeling butterflies in his stomach that were impossible to ignore.

He knew what that meant: he liked you. Not just a simple liking but liking you to the point of accepting any crazy idea you suggested, doing whatever it took to make you happy.

He was completely in love with you, and he couldn't deny it anymore.

"Jungwon, I loved these photos, let's try some with the phone horizontally." You said and he smiled taking the phone from your hand "Sure, whatever you want."

You smiled at his response as you took more pictures near the riverbank.

☆

Jungwon went to get some snacks from the tent while you dipped a part of your feet in the river. He came back smiling holding some snacks and you got excited.

"Oh, that looks good." You saw a sweet pepero and cheered. "I knew you'd want some candy." Jungwon commented and you smirked. "You know me so well, Jungwonie."

He smiled as he handed you the pepero, but before you could enjoy the snacks, the sound of thunder startled you and a sudden rain began to fall on the two of you.

Jungwon took your hand as you ran back to the tent when the rain suddenly got heavier. You went in first and Jungwon followed right behind you, zipping up the tent. The rain was so heavy that you were amazed at how strong the tent was.

"I didn't expect it to rain today." You commented, putting the snacks away in a container in the corner.

"Me neither." Jungwon turned to you and took off the light coat he was wearing to place on your shoulders. You looked wetter than him, maybe because you were wearing a dress.

"Here, so you don't get cold." He said and you looked at him. "I'll try to get a towel from the car." You held his arm. "No, the rain is too heavy. It's better to wait." Your gaze and Jungwon's met and a silence hung in the air.

Jungwon’s hair was wet, his bangs were plastered to his forehead, and his shirt was slightly see-through. You couldn’t help but check him out.

He noticed your gaze and felt his heart suddenly race.

Just like in his dream, you approached him. Jungwon felt an unsettling sensation run through his body seeing how your eyes were looking at him with such tenderness.

“I’m not cold.” Jungwon swallowed hard as you took off his coat, letting it fall onto the mattress beneath you. He was paralyzed, as if he didn’t know what to say, enchanted by your gaze.

Jungwon's right hand touched your cheek, removing the small droplets of water that were there. "Are you sure?" His gentle tone made your stomach flutter. "Yes." You smiled, realizing that he kept his hand there on your face. His thumb made circles on your skin, an act that showed affection on his part.

He looked deep into your eyes and in an impulse, Jungwon lowered his hand to the corner of your neck and closed the distance, giving you a sweeping kiss. All the rest of his consciousness faded away when you pulled him by his shirt, running your hands through his soft black hair.

Your back hit the soft mattress as Jungwon climbed on top of you. The kiss was desperate, his hands roaming your body. Jungwon groaned into your mouth when you pulled the hair on the back of his head, making you smirk in the middle of the kiss.

When his hands went up your legs, you pulled away to breathe, Jungwon's mouth devouring your neck making you gasp. "J-Jungwon." You whispered, closing your eyes and he brought his face close to yours, looking into your eyes. For a moment he realized what he was doing and swallowed hard.

He wanted to say he regretted it, but the way your eyelashes adorned your eyes as you looked at him, your flushed cheeks and how the fabric of your dress seemed like a huge impediment to his hands made him sure he didn't want to stop.

“I’m sorry.” His lips brushed gently against yours. “I couldn’t help myself.” His fingers lightly squeezed the skin of your thighs and you smiled. “It’s okay, I want it too.” You responded by giving him a long peck.

He observed every detail of your face. Your eyes, your nose, your mouth, the line of your jaw, your collarbone that was now completely exposed. You were completely beautiful, and he could no longer contain the feelings that invaded his chest “y/n,” He whispered giving you a soft kiss “I like you.” He was the first to confess and you smiled entwining his hair between your fingers “I like you too, Jungwonie.”

He laughed at the nickname and kissed you slowly. You wrapped your legs around his torso, pulling him towards you as you felt him deepen the kiss with his tongue. Jungwon could only think about how he would enjoy this moment as if it were the last time.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, trailing kisses down your jawline. “You drive me crazy.” You moaned as you felt his lips on your neck. You just nodded desperately and felt your breath catch in your throat as he moved his hands up from your thighs to your back, under your dress.

“Jungwon.” You moaned his name involuntarily as he lifted the fabric of your red dress. He liked it when you called his name like that, as if you were desperate for something more.

The raindrops fell harder on the tent's material as you pulled Jungwon's shirt up, touching Jungwon's abdomen. You were surprised to feel how toned and soft it was. Jungwon's moan was swallowed by your mouth in the desperate kiss you gave him, your hands exploring his arms and back.

“Damn I really like you, like,” He started to say as he wrapped his arms around you tighter “I'm truly madly deeply in love with you.” Your stomach turned at his confession and how he kissed your collarbone. He moved his kisses up your neck making you see stars in the air.

“I don’t want to stop.” He confessed before kissing below your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then don’t stop.” You replied as you felt the soft skin of his abdomen with your fingertips “Please.”

You looked at him like you had been asking for this for a long time. You gave him an obscene smile that made him want to sink you even deeper into the tent mattress and never come back to the surface again.

Jungwon's strong hands that once explored every skin on your body lifted all the fabric of your dress and you helped him take off his shirt. Every contact with Jungwon's skin lit a spark between you.

“You’re beautiful.” He pulled your face up by your cheeks and moved his hand down to your neck, his thumb gently caressing your throat as you tried to breathe since you were completely out of breath. “Please be mine.” He whispered against your lips “I already am.” You replied and he smiled before enveloping you in a completely passionate kiss.

☆

Jungwon hugged you while stroking your hair. You drew random patterns on his cheek thinking about everything that had happened.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” You broke the silence by laughing “I was surprised when you kissed me, but I loved it.” Jungwon looked at you carefully thinking how beautiful you looked in his arms “I couldn’t resist.” He replied and you kissed his cheek.

“And to think that before you could barely look at me.” He smiled “You were impossible.” The way he looked at you made you feel so many feelings at the same time that you were speechless. You had never liked anyone the way you liked Jungwon, and this was new to you.

“I’m looking forward to seeing more sides of you, Jungwon.” You whispered, giving Jungwon a kiss. “You’re like a box of surprises.” He pulled you closer. “And I’ll show you everything you want to see.” The sound of the rain being the perfect soundtrack for the cozy moment between you.

Jungwon had to admit: Jake was right. There were sparks between you two after all.

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