#What a suspicious elephant in the room

[vultursvolans]

was feeling low energy earlier but then i thought about the first date with jiyan and how funny and mildly awkward it was because the series of events leading up to it were out of order

[mullermilkshake]

Settle in with me

Part 1 <- Part 2 -> Part 3

After the results of the programme in hopes of producing future hunters, Jinwoo takes the lead.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - mentions of breeding,Dirty thoughts,Jealousy,kissing,Jinwoo really wants to fuck you,Forced pairing for breeding,Kinda role playing,Little mentions of squirting and other sexual acts,Mentions of pregnancy and impregnation

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EDIT - I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

The results of the pairings had been delayed due to a tragedy.

“We apologise for the delay, due to the loss of one of our association members, we had to wait until we could access the sensitive information. A formal enquiry is being made in the meantime and it’s being treated as suspicious.”

“To think we had such bad news right on our doorstep. At a time like this too.” Hunter Choi took off his glasses and cleaned them with dismay and pursed lips.

Jinwoo walked right through without issue for that information. Stealth made it way too easy. Still, he feigned surprise. “Why would someone do that? It doesn’t make sense.”

You remained silent, spacing out at the table, sitting next to Jinwoo this time. Baek slammed his fist on the table and it never even made you flinch. “Of course it makes no sense, it’s just information on who’s sleeping with who essentially-”

“Please, don’t be so crude.” Hunter Cha snapped, wiping away the invisible smell with her handkerchief. “We’re all affected by this, a man is dead. And… we’re all affected.” Her voice trailed off, she realised her outburst was seen by everyone, including the Chairman.

Jinwoo sat back and watched, awaiting the news with the excitement of carrying out his year-long quest. He’d have you soon enough, he only hoped you would do so willingly.

“Can we… Can we just get this over with now while the investigation is underway? I’d really like to go now.” You said, finally participating, fiddling with your fingers under the table because you just didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“I think so too.” Jinwoo interjected the tension and flashed you a sympathetic look. “There’s nothing we can do right now and I think we’d all like to get on with things so we can settle in, right?”

“Exactly, Hunter Sung, while we can grieve those who make the Hunters association smooth like a machine, we must carry on.” Chairman Go pulled out a sheet of paper, a small one at that, practically insignificant. “I have here the latest results for the trial period of S-Ranked Hunters set to participate in the programme, I’ll read it out as follows.”

Jinwoo picked up on your heightened breathing immediately, trembling fingers knotted together and holding on for dear life. Anticipating the future of the Hunter’s association.

“Hunter Cha will be paired with Hunter Choi. Which leaves…” When your name graced the Chairman’s lips, you watched the man’s soft facade with anticipation. “You will be paired with Hunter Sung.”

There was nothing to be said about the elephant in the room, well, the entire room was the elephant. Jinwoo sat with a wash of relief though stifled it for now. A matter of hours and he’d potentially be balls deep inside you ready to blow his first load inside you… for the good of the association, the country, his fellow Hunters and guild members.

“This will be effective immediately, so you should gather your things and return to headquarters later tonight for your keys and accommodation. I am appreciative of all the hard work you do and what more you’ll be sacrificing for this country and the association.”

Jinwoo liked the ring to that, effective immediately.

After the Chairman left, Baek slouched back into his chair and whistled. “I wasn’t sure which one of us it was going to be, but I didn’t think it would be both of you. Ugh, things are going to get weird around here.”

Choi was naturally flustered, but his rivalry with Baek pushed past the initial shock. “I think it’s a valiant effort, maybe that’s why you weren’t asked to do it. Nevermind.”

Baek growled. “Watch it buddy-”

“Ugh, was there any point in us even being here? I came all this way for nothing.” Hunter Lim had not said one word the entire meeting, shrugging off whatever words and consternation entered the room. He and Hunter Ma were not present the last time the S-Rank hunters were together.

Hunter Ma sat watching the two boil over in their feud. “I guess we just gotta do it then, no point in fightin’ amongst ourselves.”

You and Cha were silent, unmoving and weighted down in the boardroom chairs, the gravity of it all getting more heavy with each ragged breath amongst the inhouse fighting. 

Jinwoo never took your silence as an insult, in honesty, he never wanted it to be this way between you and him. He hoped with time you’d take to him as much as he understood Cha was with him. The bonus being that it would just accelerate things and give him a head start on his quest.

“You think you’re the shit now because you might have an S-Rank baby? Heh, we’ll see about that.”

“Guys, stop it!” Banging your fist on the table got Choi and Baek to stop their squabbling temporarily, everyone looked right at you in pin drop silence. “This is hard enough as it is without you two fighting. Things are going to change around here and we have to just… get used to it. Please don’t make this any more complicated than it has to be.”

Then, you walked out, taking Hunter Cha with you.

Now, the men pouted or sat around in the swivel chairs waiting for someone to speak and break the silence.

“I bet you’re happy, huh, Jinwoo?” Lim rested his chin on his balled fist over the table. “She’s pretty, but doesn’t Jong-In have a crush on her?”

“Uh… hold on a second.” Choi adjusted his glasses and cleared the truth from him throat awkwardly. “Firstly, a crush? We’re adults. Secondly, I admit to no such thing, we’re quite good friends, actually. It’s quite that simple and while I think I would have suited her well, the computer chose Hunter Sung, so I won’t protest. Thirdly, although not lastly, Hunter Cha is also a good candidate, gentlemen.”

Jinwoo noticed the mild resentment behind his mask, it slipped ever so slightly before regaining its control of his face again. Jong-In Choi was a kind man, everybody knew that, the goodness in his soul was something Jinwoo admired from time to time. A trait he wouldn’t ever fully grasp again after slipping between the line of right and wrong. 

But man, was he easy to read.

The association member Jinwoo killed wasn’t the first man, he also wasn’t remorseful in the slightest at the sight of his dead body on the ground. Although he hoped it wasn’t necessary, it was to secure your name. So all in all, not a wasted journey.

Murder… A trait he gained in which he hoped to work on, but recently, Jinwoo found himself wanting to leave it fester. That’s where all of his sudden intrusive thoughts showed themselves. Although right now, seeing Choi so flustered over you should make him want to do something to the man, even if it was just harsh words for the time being, what saved him was having you paired with him and not Choi. The saving grace in this scenario. Something he could inaudibly shove in his face and no one be none the wiser.

But he knew if push came to shove, he could kill Choi easy.

Jinwoo smiled sweetly to the room. “Well, while it’s unorthodox they want us to do this, I know me and her will make a good team, just like Hunter Cha and Choi will.”

��A true political answer, good job, Jinwoo.” Lim patted him in the back and threw his hands in his pockets. “But I’m out of here now so enjoy doing whatever in the bedroom.”

“You’re leaving already?” Baek stopped any annoyance and rolled his chair away from Choi a fraction and studied Hunter Lim’s relaxed trudge towards the door.

“Yeah, There was no point us being here if they weren’t going to pair us off with any of the A-Ranks at least or something, they really only needed Jong-In and Jinwoo for the announcement. No one wants to know what sort of kinky stuff they’ll be getting up to, we just continue life as normal. And I have a guild to run, see ya.”

“What’s up with that guy today?”

“He’s right, I gotta guild to run too, see ya!” Ma strolled out of the room without putting his two pence in and closed the door behind him with an untenable pressure pulsing with uncertainty.

“I guess I’ll go too then. I have to go and pack.” Jinwoo stood up without much resistance from the other two.

“I’ll see you later then, Hunter Sung.” Choi smoothed down his suit and left it at that.

Jinwoo walked through headquarters with elation, holding back his smile as soon as he heard you talking with Cha in the hallway. He stopped and listened in the shadows with stealth, not that you would be fooled by that at all. Your perception was far too high.

“It’ll be alright, because we’ll do this together. Shit… okay, okay. We’ll do this, one kid and we’ll bow out. That’s what the chairman said.”

Cha was panicked, trying to control her breathing from behind the stairwell. “Is this really the right thing, though? I can’t help but feel used. How could I look at a baby and just give it away?”

You however, were much calmer, like you had accepted your future path. “You’re right, I feel the same way. At least you’ll be with Jong-In, he’s a real sweet guy. I’m… I’m sorry you weren’t put with Jinwoo. I know you like him.”

Hae-In Cha made her obvious feelings subtle to everyone else, but Jinwoo saw right through them given enough time. He kept it secret, chasing you instead and giving Cha no reason to extend that olive branch. Jinwoo just wasn’t interested. She was a skilled S-Rank hunter for sure, impressive and beautiful, but you… you were something else. And still exploring your abilities to this day.

A point Jinwoo rarely brought up in his mind, that you were incredibly useful to him.

Cha’s breath stuck in her throat, Jinwoo stepped closer to see her expression. “Uh… n-no! I don’t- I mean… well, yeah, I kind of do. But there’s nothing to be done about it. It’s just sex, right?”

Wrong . It wasn’t just sex, not for Jinwoo.

You went in to speak but hesitated, turning your head in Jinwoo’s direction with a scowl, you just missed him.

“What is it?” Cha questioned, her tone softer than before.

“Uh… I-I’m not sure, I thought I saw- listen, just think of it that way. It’s just sex, and hopefully we can do this as quickly as possible. No growing pains, just our jobs. Together, alright?”

It wasn’t just sex. Jinwoo would make that clear every time he fucked you, made you come and forced his name on your lips so loud Jong-In Choi would hear down the hall.

And by that night, when Jinwoo heard the requirements for the programme, ‘At least three times a week, but most nights if you can, depending on your schedules. We’ll try to make them less conflicting as possible’. 

Yeah, life looked pretty interesting from here on out.

He’d fuck you every night, no problem, to train you to see just how much you needed him despite your independence.

When the door of the little apartment on top of headquarters closed for the first time behind you, Jinwoo’s web had started weaving. You were so beautiful in the moonlight of the darkened apartment, saying goodbye to Jong-In and Hae-In as they disappeared into their own space. It was more intimate now among the S-Ranks, using first names wholeheartedly like neighbours and friends instead of hunters.

It was all very domesticated.

“So…” You said, clearly ruminating on the path that brought you here.

Jinwoo could see it in your eyes, that doe eyed little stare anxiously darting about the room and everywhere but him.

“So… Uh, you can look at me, y’know?” Jinwo wanted you to look at him the way Jong-In looked at you.

He made it his personal quest, and seeing the system's quest progress unmoved bothered him. Not the best start to an evening, he wondered how to bring you more at ease. Jinwoo waited this long to be in this type of situation and he wasn’t giving up with the opportunity of fucking you senseless and having you all to himself.

“S-sorry, I just don’t really know where to go from here without making it weird.”

Awkward, pressured, even artificial? Maybe. Weird? Never.

“Is this your first time, or?”

You struggled to stifle your gasp in the dark room and shuffled about a bit. “What? N-no I’ve had sex before, Jinwoo.”

He rubbed his neck and feigned embarrassment. “Sorry- bad start. I just wanted to gauge your boundaries. I don’t want to cross any unintentionally.” 

More than I already have. That’ll come with time, then she'll be thanking me for doing it.

“Ah crap… what the fuck, Jinwoo. I never thought we’d be in this position.” Hearing your sweet huff of that bratty frustration he knew you were capable of turned him on. “Hae-In really likes you- but you can’t say anything because she made me promise not to tell you, but this feels wrong… it feels…”

What words would you utter? Jinwoo would use perfect, or extraordinary. Nothing negative like you wanted to use.

“She likes you. It’s like I’m betraying her.”

“Look.” Jinwoo changed the subject immediately, thinking of ways to change your mind without his influence. “Why don’t we forget about everything outside, and just focus on what’s going on in here? We could pretend that we just had a really awesome date, I asked you back to my place and you said yes.”

“Like roleplaying?” Exactly.

He nodded like you could see him properly. “It might ease your nerves.”

“A-alright… but can we leave the lights off? I’m not sure I want that right now.”

“Of course. Anything you want.”

Jinwoo heard your steps draw nearer, closer until you were near enough to take you right then and there if you let him. He’d pick you up and carry you over to the open planned kitchen counter and fuck you with your knees close to your chest.

Fuck. I have to try that sometime.

“So…” You said again, tugging on his jacket to get his role played attention. “Thanks for this. I mean it…”

Jinwoo sensed you were trying to get in character, he took the lead like most things in this relationship were going to develop. “Thanks for tonight, I had a great time, I wasn’t sure you were going to come up here. I’m glad you changed your mind.”

“I did want to. It’s just… I haven’t done this with many people so I’m a little nervous.”

He took our chin with his thumb and forefinger, trying not to smile at your quick inhale. “It’s alright. I can lead you through it, how does that sound?”

“Yes. Yes please.”

“I think it’ll be better if we kiss a little first, do you want to?” 

When you nodded and allowed yourself to get close, your lips were everything Jinwoo had wondered about. So supple, warm and plump enough to suck on, to bite and pull. He could tell you were reluctant, wooden with your position with your hands still enough to pass for a marble statue. So Jinwoo took your hands between his fingers, small enough for one hand whilst the other ran through your hair and brought you closer than before.

Your tongue drowned him in his lust he was so desperately holding back, to not let his urges spoil you before he had a chance to earn your trust completely. Jinwoo wanted to ruin you until you couldn’t speak coherently and only communicated in murmurs and babbling because of a multiple orgasm streak that got you squirting all over his face.

And then you pulled away from him. For a second there, he thought you were backing out of it. But then you said, “Will you look after me, Jinwoo? I’m scared.”

Jinwoo took an educated guess and assumed it was the tough stuff, the pregnancy to come and all that other stuff. Well, of course it was, having mind bending sex wasn’t something to be frightened of. But getting you pregnant was something Jinwoo couldn’t join you with fear because it excited him, it turned him on something chronic.

And pregnancy sex? Sign him up.

He took your hand and walked off without consulting you, straight towards the bedroom. “Let’s get comfortable.”

“Jinwoo-”

“I’m going to look after you, I promise.”

His impromptu plan worked, he might have had innocent blood on his hands doing it, but he couldn’t wait to have something more precious in his hands for years to come and now that he had it, he wouldn’t let it go.

And that was you.

Part 1 <- Part 2 -> Part 3

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

Tag list - @bubera974,@snowy-violet,@sky2lar,@starrynights23x,@minh907

@yessirr7,@aussie-boys-wife,@yihona-san06

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[sugurouge]

— nobody but you : getō suguru x f!reader

contains! — mdni: semi public sex, pussy spanking, humiliation, teasing, jealousy, pet names (love, darling, dear, needy girl & pretty girl), heavy marking — 1.8k words

summary: a petty display of jealousy over none other than Manami spoils you with unforeseen rewards

Anytime you see them together, it's a drag, almost as if you stop existing as soon as she’s around. You usually don't feel this insecure, but whenever she is involved—her and her stupid adoration for your partner—a switch flicks in your mind. Suddenly, her advice seems anything but professional, suddenly her eyes linger too long on Geto as well. And their act in front of his followers just seems wrong to your eyes.

Unfortunately you can't do much more but be a silly bystander. Watching his greatness and adoration while you feel like a nobody. You would do a better job at advising him, you conclude out of spite, as your arms fold in front of your chest. Geto can practically see the irritation radiating off your body at this point, yet somehow he loves it when you get like that.

But in your eyes it’s not fair having to witness their chemistry from across the room while you seem like yet another random face in the crowd, forced to remember the feeling of his hand against your back from only a moment ago. Yet here he is, standing a little too close to her for his usual distant behaviour. Who could blame you for the crease on your forehead, for the slight pout on your lips and glaring stares in her direction while she remains as 'flirtatious' as always—almost as if she had expertise at ignoring you?

Once this farce is finally over, you turn on your heels and swiftly leave for your chambers. Your mood is clearly soured, and that stupidly annoying chuckle that bounces off the walls of the hall doesn't help much to relieve it. Suguru’s hand returns to claim its reserved spot on your lower back, nails lightly digging into the rich fabric of the dress he got for you as his lips ghost over the shell of your ear.

“A smile suits you better,” Suguru muses, before his fingertips grasp your chin and force you to look at him. But not right now. Right now, you refuse his advances. A decision that brings one of his brows to arch, a sly smirk to spread on his lips.

Allow him to join your little play.

He follows you once more, but this time he decides to walk in silence. Upon the agonising stillness, your irritation seems to overflow. Your eyes eventually find their way over to his body—suspiciously gliding upwards until they meet his awaiting ones. The scowl on your face returns in a heartbeat while you nearly abuse the inside of your cheek. The entitled hmpf utterly princess-like of you. Giving Geto attitude is something you don’t do often; you’re usually confident in your relationship and his unique adoration for you.

And after agonising moments shared in silence, you are forced to realise how little he appreciates your childish behaviour. In one swift move, you're tugged off the main halls and find yourself pushed inside a room, caged between an icy cold wall and Geto's large frame. He leaves you no choice but to look at him, the proximity of your faces guiding your eyes to meet his slightly irritated gaze. The silence between you feels almost tranquil as Suguru refuses to make any further move on you—he’s always been patient.

But some silly devil on your shoulder convinces you to keep up with this farce. Refusing to address the elephant in the room, you instead banish any space between your bodies as you lean forward, finding purchase on his neck in mere seconds while your fingers are quick to ruin his perfectly styled attire in moments.

By now, Suguru can guess what exactly is going on in your head, and he is the last one to reject his needy girl whenever you get like this. So he allows you to kiss him, as long as you let him explore your body in return; with his curious fingertips sneaking beneath your dress, tracing over your outer thigh and firmly squeezing the soft flesh.

“What are you so jealous for?” Geto suddenly murmurs into your ear. His breath tickles your skin and sends shivers down your spine, effortlessly halting your advances upon your hesitation. The meek shake of your head feels safer than actually using words to answer, and a soft exhale clings to his neck like the arms wrapping around his shoulders—it’s a sweet effort to drench him in your scent.

Suguru won’t even attempt to hide his amusement, letting a deep chuckle vibrate against your figure. The warmth he shares contrasts with the cool touch of his fingertips, their goal in reach as they leave a chilly trail until they finally run over your panties, giving you no other option but to obediently buck your hips against his touch. He ghosts his exploration along your covered pussy; the faint touches leave your body hyper-attentive to his every move.

“You know that if it weren’t for these monkeys, I’d fuck you right in front of her, don’t you?”

The confession feeds your twisted ego, it causes a short-lived smile to decorate your face while you innocently nod against his neck, your staggered breathing exhaling in pathetic pants as your hip rolls against his fingers—chasing every bit of friction he offers.

But Geto pulls back and forces you to look into his eyes. Refusing to further spoil his rotten fruit. “Repeat it for me so I know you understand.” The request makes you hesitate, your eyes suddenly avoid his stare under which you grow timid. If it weren't for the warning spank to your pussy, which convinces you that speaking up might just be the best option right now.

“I know...” you admit quietly, and know it won't be enough for him.

“Continue.” His fingers push your panties aside, teasing you, spreading your arousal. Heavens, you're wet. You can hear yourself, can feel his thick fingers prodding at your entrance. “I know you would...” two fingers slowly push in, but that menacing smirk won't falter from Geto's face. A satisfied hum encourages you to keep going.

“I know, you would fuck me in front of her.”

He chuckles.

Geto won't even hide the entertainment you offer upon your own humiliation. But he is so sweet as well, how could you ever get enough? “That wasn't so hard now, was it, dear?” You practically suck him in, needy for his stimulation after he teased you for so long. Yet, as soon as you feel his knuckles push against your pussy, you just as quickly are to miss his delicious stretch. But who are you to complain if the soft circles drawn on your clit have you moan—loudly, at that.

In return, Geto rests his free hand on your nape and pulls you in, forehead resting against yours while he shame holds eye contact. “Make sure to be loud, pretty girl. Don't hold back.”

Yet, you can't help but shy away from his watchful eyes. Your lips ghost along the column of his throat again, still refraining from actually leaving hickeys. You’re well aware of him not appreciating public attention. Despite that, he is still yours. You want her to know.

“You desperately want to mark me, right?” He chuckles and presses his fingers close against your aching puffy lips. “Want her to know that I only love your pussy, that I only need you. Isn’t that right, my love?”

Your eyes roll in their sockets; it’s almost scary how much Suguru has perfected the art of reading your mind. A whispered “yes” rings through his ears, almost as loud as if you screamed the confession at him. You loosen the fabrics around his neck, the tip of your nose grazing his throat while you obediently wait for him to allow your next moves. His sweet peck on the crown of your hair leaves you nearly humming in pure bliss, especially once his kisses trail along your temple and cheekbone, arriving at your ear to combine the warm feeling of his whispers with his touches.

“Go ahead then…”

Your lips attack his skin, sucking deep patches of pink and red anywhere you can reach to mark him as yours. Geto groans, attempting to bite back his own moans upon the feeling of your lips and the growing pressure of his cock.

You gasp the minute he lands a sharp smack against your pussy, tensing beneath his touch as your nails dig into his skin. Painting the once pale canvas of his arms with streaks of red.

He didn't expect you to spread your legs further, offering his hand more room between your thighs.

His broad frame circles around your build protectively as his mouth remains close to your ear, offering you comfort even during moments like these. “You like it when I slap your pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you shamefully admit, your body practically begging in anticipation for his next spank. He hums in response, wet fingers now only ghosting over your thighs and pausing right before your swollen lips. “Do you want more?”

You nod, praying it will be enough to convince him.

“What was that?” he teases. Upon your hesitation, Geto withdraws his hand entirely. The whine that follows is like music to his ears. He’s glad you can’t see him grin.

“Spank me,” you murmur in defeat.

“I think you can ask more nicely, can’t you?” Oh, he enjoys seeing you annoyed—it's utterly entertaining whenever you try to refuse him. But your attitude breaks as the moment drags on.

A defeated plea of “Please, spank me,” gifts Geto utmost pleasure. Nothing compares to turning you into his desperate girl, his needy darling.

“How could I ever resist you?” he complies. Another rewarding slap meets your wet pussy, which has your legs jerk close around his hand before his fingers plunge into you once again.

Your back arches in response, tits now pressing against his chest while the squelching noises heighten thanks to the perfect movements of his fingers. Once he places his thumb onto your clit, you sigh in utmost pleasure. “Don't stop, please,” you beg ever so cutely as you hold onto him like your life depends on it.

“As if I could control myself when I’m with you,” Suguru mumbles, fingers curling inside your tightening walls to run along each ripple, hitting your sweet spots with each thrust. “Just like that, go on…” Suguru praises when your walls tighten around his fingers. His thumb adjusts your chin to tilt sideways, for his own lips to find a home on your sensitive neck and relentlessly stain your skin.

The tip of his tongue licks along your throat, lips sucking on your flesh, teeth biting nipping until you wail and your legs tremble. The delicate undertones of pride laced between his words of encouragement finally push you towards your release. “Come for me, pretty girl, let Manami hear how pretty you cry for me.”

The demand leaves your mind blank, taking away any shame you clung onto to let you moan his name instead. Your legs trap his hand between your thighs as your hips press against the resistance, pulsing walls holding his digits inside and drenching him with your slick. And just like that, you turn into his pretty mess, moaning so awfully seductive for him.

divider by @/cafekitsune + @/strangergraphics

[ibbythebee]

Anything

pairing: Fred Weasley x Prefect!Reader

summary: Fred would do anything to see you, 'Hogwart's strictest Prefect', loosen up.

genre: fluff 'n stuff, and only slight angst, also borderline slowburn

warnings: swearing, bullying moments, implied that reader is in Slytherin, lots of teasing, flirting, kissing, Fred is completely and utterly whipped for reader, "your highness" nickname

a/n: not me in the middle of writing a neville fic and then having a shower thought of a fred x reader and writing this instead.

words: 6.9k

masterlist

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You can hear them. And you know it's them, because of the sniggering and that laugh.

By now, when you patrolled outside of class hours you'd find yourself actively seeking out these boys. Today happens to be good day to continue your spotless Prefect record.

With a hand sliding to your hip, you smoothly round the corner of the door to your Potions classroom and as you suspected, Fred and George Weasley are there, huddled over a particular cauldron. Something's clearly already been brewed and Fred is holding a cork screwed flask with the mysterious liquid.

It takes a minute until Fred happens to glance toward the door and sees you there, nose in the air and hands now clasped in front of you. He's trying not to laugh when he sees you, and elbows his brother.

The said Weasley is about to say something, but as he meets your gaze his lips press together in a slightly curved line.

Successful in catching their attention, one eyebrow and then one corner of your lips gently raise. "We've really got to stop bumping into each other like this."

"I think you wanted to bump into us," Fred says with a prominent smile. He looks innocent, just like always.

You neither confirm nor deny his remark and instead stride closer to them. You take your time, head turning in each direction, eyes scanning for any other suspicious looking activity. It feels good, because you can feel their stares and how they wait with bated breaths for your next move.

With a last step you settle on the opposite side of their table. You look at Fred, head tilted softly, studying his expression.

His smile only grows when you reach his eyes and it's finally time to address the elephant in the room.

In a newly straightened posture you say in a slow and sarcastic tone, "did you know... that I can take away points from your House? From each of you, in fact?"

"Oh, come on. Our favourite Prefect. Can't you pretend you never saw us, like last time?" George answers.

"Sorry what was that? You'd like 30 points taken away?"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Fred waves with a chuckle, "let's not get hasty. What about... a-a compromise?"

George nods desperately.

Your eyebrow raises again, and you lean back, crossing your arms. "A compromise, instead of taking away your precious points?"

"Yes, we'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything." Fred glides a tongue over his bottom lip, speaking to you through his eyes.

For once he looks completely serious and it makes you smile in delight. An expression seldom found in your features. It's completely magical and Fred finds no regret to bargaining with you.

"There is something you can do for me," your eyes glaze over Fred's face and then you turn to George, leaning forward over the table on your elbows. "The next Quidditch Game."

"Yeah? Slytherin v Gryffindor. Need us to bug someone?" George grins.

You shake your head and smile again. You're frighteningly beautiful with that curve on your face as you continue. "I need you to make sure that Slytherin wins."

"What?"

Fred captures your attention, so you lean in closer to his side of the desk. "It shouldn't be too hard for you both, right?"

He squints, unable to hold back a smile of his own. In the previous times when you had caught the twins in the middle of scheming, you'd never been so coy with them. Ruffling your feathers a bit was always the boys' goal when getting caught by you, however now that you seem to be playing along, Fred can't get enough. "That's hardly something to wish for, your highness. You can have anything from us, really anything. Don't hold back."

You shrug, "well, that's what I choose."

"But if you think about it you cou—"

"I can take the points off now, if you like? It's really no problem."

"Fine. W-We'll do it." George huffs, and his brother follows with a playful bow.

"Your wish is our command."

"Please just don't take the points off. We'll be kicked out of Gryffindor if you snitch again."

"Me? Snitch?" Your voice drips in sarcastic innocence, and you push yourself off of the desk. Your feet turn to walk back outside first, but your eyes remain on Fred until it's physically impossible to stay focused on him. As you saunter to the door, you feel their gazes on you again and it's oh so satisfying to know that you get the last say. "You need to get better at not getting caught. Because, if I didn't know any better, it looks more like you want me to bump into you."

You turn around to face them again, and stare at the flask in between Fred's long fingers. By some miracle you'd never found yourself to be the butt of their schemes, unlike the other prefects. Even as a chaser of the twins' opposition in Quidditch, you've been the only lucky soul on your team to come out the other end. The question was why? Why spare you?

"Who in Salazar's name threw that?" Your captain shrieks, massaging the back of his head, small flakes of snow dropping to the skin of his neck.

How bothersome, you think, looking around at the rest of your teammates who're busy cooling down after Quidditch training.

"What?! A snowball just happens to gain sentience and hit me, huh? An owl maybe? Just come forward, admit you did it and I'll go easy on you—"

The spray of snow flies off of the captain's head again and you dodge the icy substance in time, some of it landing on your beater and chaser teammate. Everyone exclaims except you, you're too busy scanning over the field.

Suddenly, the burly boy of a captain huffs toward you, and you take a shove to the shoulder.

Stumbling back by a metre, you frown. Increasingly annoyed by your captain's baseless judgements. "What the hell is wrong with you? How many times do I have to tell you I'm a prefect?"

"I know a guilty person when I see one."

You're about to give him a piece of your mind until the idiot is hit again and you stifle a laugh at the noise he makes.

"Clever," he says through gritted teeth. Despite clearly looking at you just seconds before the snowball made contact with his thick skull, his pride is still hell-bent on accusing you. "I knew you were good at school, but I didn't think you'd stoop so low to use non-verball spells for something so stupid."

"Well, I knew you were delusional before, but now it's perfectly clear that you just don't have a brain."

As though your words were a signal, a tsunami of white ice balls appear in the sky and you don't hold back your smile as it pauses over your team. They each look up, faces with panicked expressions, and before they can even begin to escape, the snow crashes down over your peers. Figuring, it's the perfect moment to leave, you zoom out of the field on your broom and land to your feet once you can't see those angry faces anymore.

And that's when you hear him. That laugh, and he's looking at you and combing a hand through his ginger hair, all whilst adorning a satisfied ear-to-ear grin.

"Thanks." Is all you can say at first, then you realise his partner-in-crime George isn't right by his side. "Where's your brother?"

"On the other end of the field."

You nod. When you don't say anything more and turn to leave, you feel long fingers wrap around your wrist. He's warm against your icy skin, and your eyes shoot up, only to be greeted by a soft smirk.

"You're not going to snitch on us are you, your highness?"

"Me? Snitch?" You stop yourself from feeling so giddy about the previous event and instead focus on the fact that would you be doing your prefectoral duties correctly, you would have absolutely told a Professor about the twins. But the adrenaline rush feels too great and so you finally shake your head at the tall ginger. "You were just... watching us practice, right? I don't see anything suspicious about that."

His smirk twists into a genuine smile, and he allows your wrist to slide out of his grasp. A twinkle of mischievousness reaches your eyes, and then you're off, jogging into the distance. A few metres in, you take a chance to glance back to where you left Fred. And you don't know whether it was from training or the adrenaline, but you feel your neck and cheeks flare with heat at the sight of him lean against the frame of the entrance, steadily watching you run.

Clearing your throat, you push your recollection of the past away and take out your wand.

“You know you’re not allowed to use spells outside of class, your highness,” says Fred, his voice playful.

“That’s okay,” you shrug, “because I know you won’t tell on me.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” George chimes.

You nod immediately, the easiest question to answer. “I’m your favourite prefect, am I not?”

Fred’s expression is unreadable to you at first as he shakes his head slowly. He looks shocked, but at the same time pleased and a hint of something else that you can’t quite grasp.

Figuring you’ve stared at him long enough you send the twins’ a wink and the door shuts with a swipe of your wand.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Your robe is floating behind you, a spitting image of Professor Snape, as you walk with purpose to your class, books cradled in your arms and head held high. You round a corner of the halls smoothly and find yourself at your Potions classroom. It's been a week since finding the Weasleys in there, and you still haven't found out what concoction they had created.

In any case, your class has already begun, and Snape's voice is barely audible with the door in front of you. You let your fingers clench around your books for a moment, taking in a breath. Then you push your way in, and each one of your classmates turn their attention to you.

"How lovely of you to join us, Miss L/N."

Having already predicted the Professor's sarcasm-filled reaction to your tardiness, you hand out a small slip of paper. "A note from Professor McGonagall."

He barely skims over the words and indicates for you to find a seat. Fingers clenching around your books again, you let yourself look over your peers. There's a seat next to Ginger Jorkins from Hufflepuff, but after noticing your stare she's quick to put her belongings where you could have sat. You hold off from sighing, because to your relief there is one more free seat, all the way at the back of the room. Right beside the vacant spot is a familiar head of red hair, and the pain from your tight grip subsides upon seeing him. That sigh you've been holding lets free once you sit down and the class continues.

"Welcome to the back of the class," Fred whispers with his signature grin. "You're with the cool kids now."

"Speaking of..." You glance behind him and frown. "Where's your brother?"

He makes a face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." And then it hits you. The Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch Game. The compromise. The "make-sure-that-Slytherin-wins" game. The "George-has-been-completely-annihilated-by-a-bludger" and "won't-be-walking-around-anytime-soon" game.

"Oh... right."

Fred simply nods, finding the way you froze for a moment to be equally funny and endearing. The rest of your face doesn't show it, but he notices the panic in your pretty eyes and gives your arm a little nudge. "Hey. The git's okay. Says it was worth the pain because the girl he fancies paid him a visit."

You bite your lip and let yourself focus on Snape, who's mouth is moving, but you can't hear anything coming out. "It's still technically my fault. He looked awful."

Fred leans forward, his head turning to rest against his crossed arms. He studies your features as you attempt to listen into the class. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper again. "Come to Hogsmeade with me."

You give him a side glance. No one's ever invited you to come before and for all you know he could be making fun of you. It'd been hard in the beginning, though you eventually found comfort being in your own presence; drinking butterbeer while other people joked and laughed and shared stories and the gossip of the week. And talked about how they received a pointless detention after being told off from that know-it-all bitch.

"I-I don't..." You stumble upon your words, the crease between your brows growing deeper as you try to recollect your thoughts.

"Yeah, you're coming," he declares. And when you go to protest, he sits back up, sending you a wink.

"AND so..." Snape glares in your direction, "by the end of this class, I will be testing the quality of your potions by using a simple leaf. If it melts you've brewed successfully, and if not... you'll be in here on the weekend till you get it right."

To your surprise, Fred doesn't make a fuss, instead he beams at you with a clap of his hands. "Let's get started then, shall we Professor?"

The said man only grunts in response, so you all begin.

Forty minutes passes by in an instant, and no matter how well you follow the recipe, the liquid in your cauldron doesn't look like a liquid anymore and it smells differently to Fred's.

Wait. Fred's?

You frown down into his cauldron. His potion's immaculate.

You pull at the sleeve of his robe till his head comes down and his long hair tickles the tip of your nose. "How are you doing this?"

"I'm smart when I want to be," he chuckles.

"That's not an answer. I demand you give me an answer, or... I will take off points from Gryffindor."

He feigns an expression of shock which immediately gives way to a smirk, face just a few inches away from yours. "And what if I do tell you? You promise not to snitch?"

"Me? Snitch?"

That mischievousness is back into your dolomitic eyes, and Fred swears that the potion isn't required to melt the leaf.

"How about a compromise?" you whisper.

He shoots a glance toward the Professor and then hums when he feels it's all clear to keep talking. "I'm listening."

"I come with you to Hogsmeade, and I promise to do whatever you want to do. Deal?"

He doesn't need a moment, or even a second to reply. He's already nodding, slipping a hand into yours. "Deal."

You share a knowing look and shake your intwined hands. Compromise confirmed. "Now—"

Before you get to finish, he pulls out a very familiar cork-screwed flask, and in perfect fashion you keep from gasping or reacting at all, but Fred can see it in your eyes. He scans over the classroom, Snape's busy writing something on the board, and so he's clear to lower his head to you.

Your fingers graze as he passes you the concoction he had made with his brother. Electricity runs through the veins of your fingers till it hits your heart, skipping a beat.

"Someone might've tipped us off about this assignment," Fred murmurs. "So, naturally, we just wanted to be prepared. There was no way we were going to miss out on a Hogsmeade visit."

Not with George in the Hospital Wing, you think to yourself with guilt, pulling your robe sleeve down to hide the flask should your Professor stop by.

"Well... my beloved brother sadly will. I'll never forget his bravery." Fred makes a show out of a simple sigh and you feel like slapping his arm. He places his hand over his chest and sighs again, only it's a little louder this time and longer. "A girl we know threatened us to rig the Quidditch game so that Slytherin would win, if we didn't do as she asked she would've gotten us into trouble—"

"Fred." Images of the poor Weasley twin with a whole half of his body covered in the sickening colour of a bruise flood your brain.

"—and being the good man that he is, Georgie sacrificed himself, in order to satisfy the needs of this girl."

"Oi! I already feel horrible, okay?" You finally give his arm that well-earned smack, and when all he does is laugh, you huff with a pout.

He recollects himself, and makes sure Snape's still preoccupied. He bends down to your level again, and his breath fans over the strands of hair by your ear. "I would do the same for this girl."

There's that heat in your neck again and yet another electric feeling runs up your spine at his worlds. You don't meet his gaze and instead stare forward. To save yourself from embarrassment, you lift your chin and with one swift movement, the liquid from the flask falls into your cauldron.

Fred watches in delight as you stir until your previously horrible creation morphs and dissolves into that flawless fluid that you had just seen in the Weasley's cauldron. From such a result, you're unable to stop yourself as your lips curl into a smile, parting slowly to reveal your teeth.

You are the embodiment of this potion. Any person or creature of the magical world would completely disarm at the sight of your expression. And Fred's lucky enough to be your first victim.

"You seem very pleased, Miss L/N."

The black figure of Snape shadows yours and Fred's vision as he glides in front of your desk. He peers into your cauldron, nothing shows on his face and then he's examining Fred's, the same reaction of nothing.

The man then clicks his tongue and floats back to the front of the classroom, picking two leaves off of the plant on his desk. He returns swiftly, gesturing the rest of the class to join him by your table.

"Look closely." Snape says as his hand hovers over your creation, and then his fingers let go of the green object.

Hushed breaths watch as it hits the surface of the liquid with a ripple. There's no reaction at first and it fills you with dread. You even see Fred stiffen in the corner of your sight.

Then the leaf twitches with a change in colour, and soon it's no where to be seen, dissolved. Successful.

Someone mutters a 'wow', others share glances of contempt or roll their eyes. You on the other hand feel relieved and lean onto your hip, arm brushing against the tall boy beside you. He relaxes at your gentle touch.

"It seems you will have the fortune of freedom this weekend." Professor Snape mutters, and then with no time to waste, moves on to Fred. You barely have a chance to thank the man. His hand hovers, fingers open and a new leaf falls.

In a blink, the leaf has melted and you feel the Weasley straighten up in pride.

Snape however, isn't convinced and folds his arms. "How convenient that you should produce a successful potion - out of many failures - when seated beside Miss L/N."

Innocent until proven guilty, you think and look up at Fred, who's only smiling like a fool, his focused trained on Snape's. Your classmates murmur, and it isn't hard to place who they're talking about with their not-so subtle glares pointed in your direction.

"So I did a good job?" The boy's happy expression grows with innocence.

"Somehow. Five points... to each of you." The raven-haired man admits, his gaze lingers on the Weasley before he turns away, addressing you both and the rest of the class. "L/N and Weasley, seeing as you have completed the task, you may be dismissed. However, by next class I expect a 2,000 word written report of your method and findings. That'll be all. The rest of you... you have fifteen minutes."

Groans and curses hidden under breaths echo through the room, you and Fred, however, turn to each other with eyebrows raised and stupid grins plastered over your faces.

Adrenaline kicks in, and you both scramble to clear up the desk and snatch up your belongings. You sprint out the door not after sending the Professor a 'thank you', and then you're out the door and sprinting into the courtyard, crisp winter air nipping at your extremities.

You pause by the fountain, leaning against the tall structure and Fred follows suit, situating himself in front of you. "I can't believe I did that," you say in a breathless tone still grinning, books hugging into your chest.

He chuckles in between his own pants of breath. "Feels good doesn't it, your highness?"

"I hate to admit but... yes."

You watch as his gaze on you softens, as well as his grin subduing into contentment. "You make a good partner-in-crime. I think I might just replace George."

"Then he will surely kill me once he's recovered! That is... if he doesn't already."

Fred winks, "I'll make sure that won't happen. A princess such as yourself deserves a knight-in-shining armour."

"Oh yes." You give a curtsy and wave of your hand, your voice forming a posh accent. Well, no more posh than you already sound. "Then will you do the honour of escorting me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

With a fist to his chest, Fred bows. "For you, my dear, anything."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

It's irregular of you to be so fashionably late. Last night you'd found yourself restless, thoughts of sleep hidden behind scenes of you and Fred eating candy together, laughing, using magic outside of class to throw snowballs at your Quidditch Captain. Despite the chill of a winter night, being covered by your duvet and blankets was suffocatingly warm, especially when you kept seeing Fred pull you behind a tree, gloved hands drawing you into him by your hips, noses barely touching and lips parted with warm butterbeered breaths.

Your chocolate-brown screech owl whinnies by the foot of your bed and you flinch, adjusting your beanie for the hundredth time. "What do you think, Prim? Do I look tired? I look tired, don't I?"

The owl blinks and gives another whinny, a sound similar to that of a miniature pony. You check the clock on the wall of your dormitory and bite your lip, jostling through your belongings and retrieving a small purse of galleons to shove into your coat pocket.

One more look in the mirror, just one more. Your hair looks surprising lovely, strands of it squished against your thick scarf, and fortunately covering areas of your blemished face that couldn't be covered enough by your concealer. "It'll have to do!"

Prim purrs when you stroke her head and then you're off. You almost trip at the bottom of the stairs and as a result you pause, taking in a breath, calming the pounding in your chest. This Hogsmeade visit is just like any other. Just like any other. You’re just… not alone this time. That’s enough to get you smiling, as you saunter through the halls and finally out the gates, where you see a few groups of students still hanging around Hogwarts.

At the top of the steps you crane your neck in an attempts to find Fred amongst the small groups.

“I was beginning to think you stood me up.”

You spin on your heels at the sound of his voice, and are greeted with a growing grin. Teeth sparkling and everything. It takes a toll on you not to tackle him in a hug right then and there. The thick hoody he’s adorning, as well as the adorable beanie all look extra cuddly. Those gloved hands that you’ve been thinking about slide out of the pockets of his jeans and reach for your scarf, gently tightening the fabric around your face and neck.

On the outside you seem unbothered by his action, but he already sees what you’re really feeling through those dolomitic eyes of yours. “A deal’s a deal,” you finally say. “But it was rude of me to keep you waiting so long, so I’ll buy you a butterbeer.”

He shakes his head, fiddling with the hem of the scarf. “You turning up is enough for me.”

You shake your head back, dipping your chin into the material to hide your smile. “I’m buying you one. Argument over.”

“Alright then.” He chuckles and gives your scarf a gentle tug. “No more time to waste, your highness, let’s go.”

“Lead the way, Sir Weasley.”

You’re perfectly giddy as you trudge your way to the little village. Fred tells you about his plans for Christmas and you tell him yours, not very big and not very exciting, but he adores listening to you speak. He tells you about George and his recovery, and teases you when he sees guilt written over your face. Then despite your many differences, you both bond over your love for Quidditch, especially the Irish team. Occasionally, your shoulders and arms graze, and other times your fingers, as you stomp through the snow covered grounds. With every touch your chest grows warm, and your belly flips. You almost forget that you should be looking out for any bad behaviour. You almost forget that you still have a duty to uphold to the school.

Hogsmeade is bustling with life when you finally arrive. More so now that you could share it with someone.

“Come on, let’s warm up first.” Fred tugs your scarf again and successfully gains your full attention. He pulls you into the Three Broomsticks, greeted immediately by a wave of warmth. He’s still pulling on your scarf so you swiftly ask for two hot butterbeers and allow him to lead you to a table at the far end of the room.

“Am I your pet? Leading me around like that.” You sit down opposite him, motioning to his hand still holding onto the end of the long material.

He hums for a moment, and doesn't look to have any intention of letting go. “More like restraining you from going into ‘prefect’ mode.”

"Hey! Some people need disciplining," you pout.

"You sound like a Professor..." he narrows his eyes at you, lacking the skills to stop smiling so big. "You're not Professor Snape using Polyjuice potion, are you? Trying to figure out my secrets for passing your class, huh?"

Slowly, meticulously you straighten your back and fold your hands over the table, and void any emotion on your face. Your voice is low and slow and articulating every syllable as you speak. "What a ri-di-cu-lous suggestion. However... while we are on the topic, you didn't... copy off me, did you?"

Fred is so bad at suppressing his smirk. "Bloody Norah, you found me out! You're so smart, Profess— I mean... your highness."

The clink of glass hitting your table interrupts yours and Fred's thoughts. Madam Rosmerta's standing over you and when you meet her gaze she winks. "Good to see you with company this time around, Y/N."

Your face squishes into the fabric that Fred's still holding onto as you feel heat rise in your cheeks. Desperate to eliminate the fact that she basically just called you a loner in front of him, you fish into your pocket and pull out some coins, placing them onto the woman's open palm. "Thank you, Madam Rosmerta."

"Pleasure, dears. Enjoy.” Another wink is sent your way and she’s off to tend the rest of her pub.

As you bring the hot beverage to your mouth, you peek through your eyelashes. Fred has removed one glove and is now using that bare hand hold onto his drink, allowing the warmth to transfer into his already warm skin.

"Thank you," he says.

Your brows press together, "what for?"

"For paying."

"Well... thank you too."

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a good sip of the butterbeer, waiting for you to elaborate.

"For inviting me," you say shyly, fingers sliding across the surface of the mug.

"Awh, that's nothing," he chuckles, gently swaying your scarf.

"It's not 'nothing'. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night because I was so excited to come with you."

The ginger-haired boy presses his lips together tightly and then leans his face closer to you. "Wait, really?!"

How many times has it been now that you've felt your face heat up around Fred? You could play so coy and confident before, but now you felt like any other girl-with-a-crush in your year. "As a matter of fact, yes." You raise your chin and attempt to sit up straighter. "I know it may seem that I only agreed to come because of a compromise, but... I really did — do — appreciate you considering me."

"I don't think we'll need to stop by Honeydukes, your highness. You're so sweet, that my teeth already ache."

"You're so...!" You smack his arm.

But he's grinning like a fool, pulling at your scarf. "I'm so what?"

"I'm gonna take points off Gryffindor, just because you asked."

He guffaws, "what is this abuse of power?"

You take a swig of butterbeer and shrug, head high and smirk on display. "I like to call them perks."

"See?" You feel on your neck as he gives a tug-tug. "This is why you need to be kept on a lead."

Before you can retort, you notice he's pointing at his upper-lip and quietly chuckling. It sets off your heart.

"Brilliant moustache you got there," he says.

"Oh... thank you." How embarrassing. You really thought he was suggesting something else for a moment there. You glance around the room to make sure no one's watching before you slide a tongue over the sweet foam above your lip. "Is it gone?"

"Just..." at first there's a second of hesitation, but then he pulls you in over the table and meets you half-way, un-gloved hand coming up to cup your face. Why is he always so warm? Why is it that one of the most notorious rule-breakers of the school is taking your fancy? And so easily at that.

It feels like an hour passes when his thumb smooths over the left corner of your mouth and you hold in a breath, fingers clenched around your mug. You simply cannot help the urge to look at his own lips; pretty, pink and gently parted, calm breaths passing through.

His movements pause all of a sudden, so you glance at his eyes, but he's already looking at you. Completely under your spell, completely forgetting how to move, and completely forgetting that you're in public. You seem to have forgotten the same, still not pulling away from his touch. He catches your eyes dip to his lips again and he swallows thickly.

Then he's moving away and sitting back down, clearing his throat. "There, now you're good."

"Thanks," you wipe a finger over for extra measure and then look out the window, clearing your throat and straightening your back.

"You know how you mentioned that part of the deal was that we'd do anything I want to do?" He inquires, finishing his drink with a last swig.

"Yeah. A deal is a deal," you answer, finally turning back to him, surprised to see a confident smile carved into his features.

"Perfect. There's something I want to show you, but first I have a really good idea to help you unwind and forget about your prefect-ness."

"That doesn't sound good," you tease, chugging the last bit of your own butterbeer.

He's smirking now, "you won't be saying that when you see what we'll be doing."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You're both crouched behind a boulder that oversees the Shrieking Shack in the distance. The perfect spot to spy on anyone who visits the lookout point. The perfect spot to snog outside of school walls. And it also happens to be the perfect spot to stock up on snowballs and wait for one particular person to fall into your trap.

"I hate to admit, but you were right, Sir Weasley. Again," you mutter, rubbing your gloved hands together.

"The more you hang out with me, the more you'll find out just how right I always am." He peeks over the boulder for a moment and then his hand shoots up in alarm, speaking in barely a whisper, "he's here."

He is. You can hear your Quidditch captain now and a few of his buddies, chatting and laughing. Someone puts on a voice, and it makes the group howl, but makes your stomach churn. The closer they get to the lookout, the clearer their words sound and the more you're looking forward to breaking the rules.

"—thinks she's all that, just 'cause she's a prefect. Like, bitch, I'm older than you!"

Their laughter is equal to that of nails on a chalkboard. Pelting them with some snowballs might not be fulfilling enough.

"Nah, it's 'cause she's got Snape behind her, hah. Thinks she can say and do whatever she wants."

Fred is hearing all of this. You feel like screaming, and perhaps hexing the hell out of all of them. They need a proper disciplining.

"Yeah, that's probably what's happening!" The group laugh again, and the next thing they say is the last straw. "She only got prefect because she's fucking him."

The bottom of your vision is blurry, but you tell Fred you're ready and he only nods. You both raise your wands, and he counts to three.

One snowball hits the back of the captain's head and to your satisfaction he lands on his face. You and Fred are enjoying the scene a little too much that it isn't until one of the idiots shout your name, do you realise you've blown your cover.

"Shoot!"

"Quick! We need to unleash all we've got!" Fred takes your free hand and guides you up to stand beside him. "One, two, THREE!"

Adrenaline shoots through your veins, as together you swish your wands and the rest of your snow pile is sent into the air. One more flick of the wands, and the balls fly with the speed of a snitch. Straight toward their faces. Exclamations, grunts, yells echo through the woods and open winter air. They swipe at their faces and eyes, blinded by your attack. The captain's still trying to recover from the first hit, from head to toe the entire front half of him is covered in white.

You let out a laugh, and suddenly Fred takes your hand again and you're sprinting away from the crime scene.

"HEY!" The Quidditch captain shouts after you, pure rage in his tone.

But you couldn't care less, because that grin on the Weasley's face is too contagious as you run by him, gloved hand in gloved hand.

He peeks over his shoulder to meet your gaze, only resulting in a skip of his heart and a flip of his stomach. Losing that Quidditch match was absolutely worth it, and Fred had to remind himself to thank George later for taking the blow.

You share breathless laughter as the shouts increase in amount, but decrease in volume. You're both much too fast for them and manage to get back to the village where you could hide within the crowds.

Your feet slow to a walk, and you both check if any of the idiots followed. Fred spots two pass by a tree and squeezes your hand to gain your attention.

"In here," he jerks his head, and pulls you into a small alley between two buildings.

Finally having a moment to catch your breath, you realise that it isn't really an alley, and more like a small gap. The space is so narrow in fact that your body is essentially pressed up against his. Back against wall. Heaving chest against heaving chest. Feet and legs side-by-side each other as though woven.

You don't care to look to your left where those jerks could be looking for you. You simply can't. You can't because all you can see are Fred's parted lips again, and he's looking down at yours. After which, your gazes meet and you don't think you've ever felt so hot in the middle of winter before.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes. No grin, no smirk, no teasing, just facts.

"And you're..." Your eyes dip again.

His hand slides out of yours, and then you feel weight by your hips and he's squeezing against the material of your pants and sweater.

You crane your neck, and he dips his head, as those gloved hands of his pull you into him.

Your own hunger has your fingers smooth over his chest and grip the collar of his hoody, desperately tugging for him to come closer and closer, tension in the air building with each breath.

"And I'm... what?" He purrs.

Something stirs in the bottom of your abdomen as the scent of butterbeer fills your senses, just millimetres away now. And then he captures your lips. And it's like heaven, because his hands can't help but slide up under your sweater and hold you by the skin of your waist.

At first the kiss is gentle, hesitant, but then you open your mouth a little wider and Fred takes this as a clear invitation. He smooths a tongue over yours, the taste of the sweet foamy drink still lingering on your lips.

His bold action elicits a hum from you, and his grip only tightens, craving more and more of you and your pretty sounds. You go until you can't breathe, mouths parting reluctantly but eyes still closed.

Fred presses his forehead against yours, your noses brushing in a feather-like touch. His thumbs caress your sides as he whispers, "you never answered my question."

"You wanna know what you are, right?” You murmur, hands sliding down over his collarbone and resting on his chest.

“Yeah. You’ve said it twice now and never finished your sentence.”

“Okay,” you lean in, lips feathering over his. “You’re…”

Good Godric you’re addicting. He pushes his head forward to meet you, but you pull back with the most attractive breathy laugh he's ever heard. Your lips stay brushing against his, but you won't give him any more than that and he loves it.

"You're..." you say again on his mouth, and he hangs on every single one of your words. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me at Hogwarts."

He watches your eyes for a moment, and leans into you once more, hands climbing up to lay flat against your back, your sweater pooling by his wrists. And you share the softest kiss ever, full of adoration, full of care, full of absolute affection.

"You saying that, you being here right now... feels like I've just won the Quidditch cup," he says when you part.

"I really mean it, Fred." You wrap your arms around his middle and squeeze him there, cheek squishing into his chest. "You've heard how people talk about me, but you don't seem to care about any of that stuff."

He returns your gesture, his own cheek landing on the top of your head. "You're right. I don't care about it, because I've seen how much you care for the school and care for keeping things in order. A little too much, but to each their own."

"Oi."

"I have to tease, I have to. Still, joking aside, if anyone says that kind of shit about you and you hear about it, find me and tell me. Me and Georgie have your back."

"Just don't get caught," you smirk.

"You won't take points away if you catch us, will you?"

You pull away from the cuddle and send him that beautifully, intimidating smile of yours. "Not if you promise to keep losing your Quidditch games."

"Low blow, your highness!" He laughs and then you're running away, giggling like a fool.

You manage to slip through the crowds and head toward the woods by the Shrieking Shack lookout, your giggles only getting louder and more frequent when you see Fred bounding closer and closer to you. Your cadence slows when the ground starts to feel icy under your boots, and sooner than you think, you feel arms wrap around your stomach and you squeal.

Fred's laugh vibrates against your back, and after a few pants of breath he speaks into your ear. "There's still something I wanted to show you."

"Oh?" You spin around in his hold. "That's right. What is it then?"

"Surprise. Follow me." He's hasty in his movements, as he takes your hand, running further into the woods. Then he rounds the corner of a large tree trunk, his fingers slip out of yours as he twists around to face you and then he's pulling you by your hips, grin on display.

Your heart flips when your back meets with the rough surface of the tree, bodies pressing into one another and then his mouth is hovering over yours. There's hunger in his eyes, yet he's waiting for your next move.

"Wow. 'I have something to show you'. That was so corny," you tease in a whisper.

He chuckles, feeling your lips just barely touch his, "but you loved it."

"I did. You're right again, Sir Weasley."

"Always am, your highness."

He squeezes your hips. You lift your chin and you kiss for a third time that day.

[aijunbi]

hiii sooo can i req yoonchae x f!reader where katseye goes on their asia tour and while they’re in korea the girls find out that yoonchae has a gf and interrogate reader bc yoonchae is basically their daughter and they wanna make sure she’s in good hands!!

funny cuz yoonchae's literally my gf

"WHO ARE YOU?"

jeong yoonchae x fem!reader

{ synopsis } : while in korea for one their asia promo trip, yoonchae randomly goes out, coming up with random excuses as to why she is. the kats gets suspicious but ultimately concluded it was messing around with friends. until one night, they see her with a random girl in front of a convenience store.

{ tags/extra } : fluff, secret relationship, established relationship, yoonchae is a flirt, reader is korean for the plot, pacing is iffy i apologize

{ a/n } : yall alr know this is sooo rushed cuz i delayed the publishing of this by a lot 😭 plus tumblr didn't save it 😒

now playing : pink by wave to earth

@lararajjj @ohmyhaely @ninguitar

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"SHE'S BEEN ACTING WEIRD LATELY," megan says out of the blue, confusing the members for a moment. manon glances at the television, seeing nothing playing on the screen, then looked around at the rest of the girls.

"who?" she questions. she has an idea of who, but she won't admit it until everybody else brings it up. how is she so confident in this person? well, maybe it's because the person in question isn't even there with them. the youngest has been a bit distant lately, always having excuses about going out early in the morning and not coming back until late at night, sometimes even coming back the next day.

"you know who."

nobody dared to say anything else but it was hard to ignore the elephant in the room. sophia finally spoke first, the perks of being the closest to yoonchae finally being useful. "it's been a long while since she's back in korea. she told me she's hanging out with friends."

"i don't think friends keep each other out for the long," lara lazily voiced her opinion, not sparing any of them a glance as she's busy playing block blast. daniela clicked her tongue before reaching out and turning off lara's phone, which resulted in the younger letting out a loud 'hey!'

"uh, yes, they do. you should know since you're always dragging me to go out." megan rebutted. lara rolled her eyes and turned her phone back on, backing out of the conversation. daniela pondered some more, trying to figure out what to say before deciding to test the waters. she wanted to see how the girls would react to what she has to say.

"what if yoonchae's seeing someone?" she asks.

sophia immediately snapped her head to daniela, a mix of disbelief and annoyance on her face. "if yoonchae says she's out with friends, then she's out with friends. don't jump to conclusions." even so, there's a small part of her that is convinced the youngest might have a partner that neither her or the others know about. "plus, yoonchae never lies."

"right.. okay."

═══════════════════════════

yoonchae does, in fact, lie. she keeps secrets about a lot of things. like this, for example:

"hi, beautiful," she greets in korean as soon as you opened the door, leaning down to kiss the lips that she missed oh so dearly. "god, i missed seeing this eleven outta ten face."

"stop lying, you didn't miss me that much." as you hit her arm lightly, your scolding demeanor changed into one of giddy highschooler. yoonchae only chuckled before holding your waist to pull you closer, her fingers resting on the small of your back. your hands cradled her face, your thumb grazing the curve of her jaw.

"i'm telling the truth," she confessed. "i'd kill myself if i ever said i didn't miss my gorgeous girl."

"flattery sure gets you anywhere." you rolled your eyes, tiptoeing up to give her cheek a gentle peck. yoonchae swerved her head to the side, just enough to capture your lips in a slow, longing kiss. you swore you felt her fingers practically digging into your hips like she never wants to let go.

"i-" a kiss on your lips, "missed-" a kiss on your forehead, "you-" a kiss on your nose, "so-" a kiss on your left cheek, "much." and finally, a kiss on your right cheek. "like, a lot."

"oh shut up." you fully wrapped your arms around her shoulders to bury your red, flustered face into the crook of her neck. to say you also missed her was an understatement. you longed for the days you two would finally be physically together again instead of on facetime calls that get cut short because she has a busy schedule. and now that it's happening, you just wanna pinch yourself, convinced it's a dream.

after a few moments of comfortable silence that yoonchae let you have to collect your thoughts, she finally spoke up. "snack run?"

"of course."

it takes a while to get to the 7/11 despite it being only a three minute walk from your apartment. yoonchae was just so warm for the cool evening that you didn't want to pull away from the hug. but unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

~

"pringles or kimbap?" yoonchae asked, holding up the two options in your face. you already know she wants the kimbap, but you also know that there's a small part of her that wants the pringles.

"how about both? you want both of them right?"

"yeah... but–" you cut her off by taking both of the items and putting it into the basket with a proud smile on your face. you didn't give her time to protest, already making your way to the checkout. "y/n.."

"it's no big deal, baby. you can get whatever you want." you handed the cashier the money. "even if it's just snacks." yoonchae subtly pouted and wrapped her arms around your waist from the side, resting her head on your shoulder.

"you're so sweet," she mumbled. "i love you so much."

"mm, i love you more." you thanked the chasier as he handed you the change, stuffing it in your hoodie pocket. well, it wasn't yours, but nobody really cares. you held yoonchae's hand to go to tables outside, but she quickly stopped upon seeing the girls. she let go of your hand while you set some space between you two, making it seem like it was just a friendly snack run. "wait, your hoodie–"

"just keep it," she whispered.

soon enough, they all spotted yoonchae nervously standing next to you. sophia rushed over to yoonchae, asking why she's out so late before looking your way. you turned around and pretended you had no idea who they were. "do you know her?"

"uh, yeah. this is my friend, y/n." she nudged you with her elbow. "say hi to them."

"it's so awkward, yoon... i'm literally your girlfriend."

"yeah, but they don't know that." she gave a smug smile, grabbing your forearm and pulling you closer. "y/n is my really close friend. i've known her since elementary." her hand slipped from your arm and around your waist, squeezing your hips as a way of comforting you in this stressful situation.

"are you trying to make us public?" you jabbed her side, twisting your hand to make it extra painful.

"baby, if i had five seconds to say anything to the whole world, i'd most definitely shout that you're my girlfriend." she winked– which was horribly cute. you clicked your tongue in annoyance, ignoring the blush creeping up to your face. the girls watched the interaction with partially stunned looks. you two looked awfully a lot like a couple and it was concerning.

yoonchae sat you down on one of the chairs and began walking back to the store, claiming she's going to buy more snacks. you rushed to get up and follow her but lara got in front of you, her hands clasped together with a sickeningly sweet smile. "let's talk."

~

"when did you two start dating?" lara was the first to ask after moments of silence at the table. everybody was either too busy staring at you– ahem, sophia –or too busy eating the snacks you and yoonchae bought.

"better question, are you two dating?" sophia intervened. at least she was decent enough to ask. words bubbled in a throat but it refused to escape your mouth, so you only gave a weak nod. sophia nodded as well, more in understanding than anything else. lara and daniela high-fived each other while manon and megan groaned

"so.. can you answer my question then?" lara questioned. "with some background too?"

"we started dating in our second year of middle school," you began. "honestly, we had no idea what we were doing, but, y'know, she was soo in love with me." you chuckled at the last part, remembering how head over heels yoonchae was.

("wait, what's second year of middle school in korea?" megan whispered to manon, in which the older replied, "eighth grade")

"so you're saying yoonchae, possibly one of the most logical people ever, had no idea what she was doing?" sophia raised a seemingly interested eyebrow. before you answered, you took the pringles and kimbap, putting it on your lap for yoonchae to eat when she comes back.

"she was thinking with her heart, if i'm gonna be honest." you nervously laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. "her whole head was empty like her brain took a vacation."

"that has to be so funny," daniela sneered. "imagine yoonchae walking into a pole because she was too busy thinking of how pretty y/n is."

"what if that's why she did that when we were in new york," sophia commented, her stern demeanor finally cracking. yoonchae finally came back after an eternity with two full bags of snacks. she sets down a bag in front of you after giving the girls the other, plopping down on the seat next to you.

"you said you like pepero right?" after a full conversation in english, you were grateful yoonchae was here to switch back to korean. yoonchae rummaged through the bag, quickly finding the box of chocolate sticks and gave it to you.

"mhm. the chocolate one?"

"they just restocked on it."

"y'all are so cute." lara appeared between you both, the smile from earlier back on her face. you audibly gulped when she looked at you, your body sinking into the chair. "say, how much do you love yoonchae?"

"..." you stayed quiet for a minute which made yoonchae a little nervous. though, she has no reason to be. it was evident on how much you love her. "i think i'd go insane if she's more than five minutes away."

"that's such a basic answer." manon teased. sophia was looking at you expectantly. she wants to know if you're good enough for yoonchae (despite the fact you two have been dating possibly three years).

"she's the girl of my dreams. she fell first, but as always, i fell harder. every time i look at her i just get reminded of how lucky i am to have such an amazing girlfriend like her." your hand found its way to yoonchae, intertwining your fingers and pulling it up to your lips, leaving a soft kiss on her knuckles. "i'd choose her over my own life."

through a series of 'aw's and 'how cute', all you were focused on was yoonchae and how her eyes gazed into yours, how her hand squeezed yours just a little tighter. most importantly, how pretty she looked just right underneath a street light. "you're so gorgeous, baby."

yoonchae suddenly stood up from her seat, the action startling everyone. she got down on one knee, and holding a singular pepero in her hand, she said, "i wanna marry you. be mrs. jeong."

"what?!" the girls, including you, all exclaimed in shock.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The woman doesn’t say a word as she gets in the car. You don’t either. The tension in the car is like the sound of glass about to break. Each breath is another crack. 

The fourth passenger in the car is your confusion. You’re not quite sure why you’re still there. The job is done, right? And this is business. Not your business. You don’t ask. Questions are a bad idea with these kind of people. 

Rogers drives out of town. The old warehouse is ominous and you’re happy you’re not the one he tells to get out. The woman doesn’t hesitate even as you can sense her uncertainty. You only get a brief glimpse of her as she goes as the car pulls away swiftly. 

He retraces the same route. He clears his throat as he passes the city marker. “We needa talk,” he says. 

“We do?” You eke out. 

He sighs and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, “look, I’m taking you home. You did your job.” 

“Oh, okay,” you fold your hands in your lap. 

“So, let’s discuss the elephant in the room. Discretion,” he intones. 

You thoughtfully mull the world. As far as you’re concerned, the moment you’re out of the car, it’s all behind you. Just a weird fever dream you can forget about. 

“Not that anyone should ask but if they do, you know nothing.” 

He stares at you intently. His blue eyes are bright despite the shadows, as his beard and hair swallow up the dark. He really is a frightening man. You’re fortunate to be walking away. You know that at least. 

“Sure,” you agree. 

“Open the glove box. Your take is in there,” he says. 

You lean forward and do as he says. You take out the envelope. It’s stuffed with bills. That won’t be suspicious at all. You’ll deposit it a little at a time. Wait, should you accept this? It’s blood money, isn’t it? 

“All yours. I’m sure you can figure out something to do with it,” he says. 

You recognize the streets around you. Your neighbourhood isn’t the nicest but it’s home. For now. You watch through the window as you ponder your deal with the devil. You won’t argue with him but you could always give the money to a good cause. 

He pulls up to your building and you tuck the envelope in your purse. That’s it. It’s over. It’ll just be a funny story to tell in twenty years when the heat’s off of you. People won’t believe someone like you had a brush with danger. You can hardly believe it yourself. 

“I’ll stay here til you’re inside. Make sure you don’t have anyone tryna snatch your purse,” he says. 

You look at him, “what are you walking about?” 

He squints and his lashes flick. He shakes his head, “what?” 

“Who are you?” You ask. 

His lips part and he pauses before he speaks, “you hit your head?” 

“Discretion,” you say. “Remember? I don’t.” You tap your head and pull the door handle, “have a good night. Or, er, life.” 

You shut the door gently and turn away. You let out a breath and march staunchly up to the front door. You sense him watching you but you’re not bothered. It’s over. You’re free. 

You go inside, certain to pull the grate door closed heavily before you continue up to your unit. As you get inside, you let your shoulders drop and hang your head back. No more scary men and hopefully, no more fainting. 

You take out your phone and find it just as lifeless as ever. You have a few notices to keep up your game streak but nothing important. Just an email. 

Wait. Before you can swipe it away, your brain catches the name. You applied to the firm months ago. Please, don’t be another rejection. 

You open it, one hand on your phone, the other stirring around for the envelope in your bag. You carry both through the front room of your apartment and into the bedroom. You tap the email to open and put the phone down to look for a hiding spot. 

You tuck the money under your mattress and reclaim your cell. You sit on the bed and read. It’s an offer for an interview. Great timing too. The sooner you can get out of this city, the better. You’ve seen its dark underbelly. No thank you. 

You reply, drafting your acceptance several times before sending. Content, you stretch out the last of the tension. You feel bad for all those people; the man that Rogers beat in the middle of the road, Warren, and whoever that woman was in the backseat. Still, all you have is your empathy. You can’t do much for any of them. 

The night passes so dully that you can almost believe you dreamt the last three days. In the morning, you’re back to the usual, though it doesn’t feel quite so. You get dressed, pack your lunch, and set off for the firm. 

You greet Geraldine as she unlocks the front door of the office. She’s happy to see you. You’re less than happy to see your desk. There’s a dozen post-its stuck to your keyboard. Each with a name and file number. That’s everything you have to catch up on, all scribbled in Brenner’s tight lettering. 

You sit and stack them up neatly. Brenner shows up an hour later. He’s hung over. You can tell by how he keeps his sunglasses on and goes through coffee like a siphon. 

Neither of them acknowledge your absence. They don’t ask and you don’t mention it. If all things go to plan, soon enough, your desk will be filled by someone else. 

You get through a couple post-its before lunch then check your phone. You have a time and date for the interview. Things are moving along. You’re already fantasizing about giving your two-week notice. 

You’re going to be out of here, onto greater things. Just like you set out for. Well, it’s just an interview. You need to be practical about this. One step at a time. For now, you need to shovel through the pile of shit before you. Fresh air is just around the corner. 

[arcane-vagabond]

No Rest for the Wicked: Prologue

“There’s no rest for me in this world. Perhaps the next.” - Tommy Shelby, Peaky Blinders.

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: You tried to steer clear of the north side of the city—something ingrained in you by your late mother. Nothing good ever happened there. Your younger brother, however, seemed hell bent on finding his place amongst the Doctors—a no good group of men that ruled most of the eastern seaboard with an iron fist. It just so happens that you're put in the path of one of the handsome leaders on one fateful day, but is he willing to let you go? Or are you his for the taking? (1930s!Mafia!AU)

Word Count: 1,475

Content Warning: Mentions of war, Prohibition, Crime, Speakeasies, Alcohol, Alcoholism, Depression, Suicide Ideation, Blood, Amputation, Robby being Robby, Jack being Jack. I think that pretty much covers it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Main Masterlist || Jack Abbot Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Jack hadn’t always been a criminal. In fact, he loathed the very word. Sixteen years ago, prohibition passed through Congress, ratified two years later. The taps ran dry at the various clubs, but the opportunities were plentiful for those looking to cash in on the opportunities.

Times were tough even then, the country having just won a war to end all wars, and Jack had been on the front lines, tending to the wounded until he had needed one himself. The searing pain was still fresh in his mind fifteen years later—the scarlet color of his own blood that soaked into the earth beneath him as he reached for the limb that was no longer there. He had prayed for a bottle to sink into, the alcohol to burn down his throat and help him forget all that he had now lost. Then his country had taken that escape from him and he was at the mercy of his own thoughts—the days dragging on as he watched the world move without him.

It had been Robby that had gotten him the prosthetic, and to this day he didn’t know how he managed it. His best friend had appeared at his small apartment one day, the contraption in hand and a beaming grin on his face as he leaned against the doorjamb.

“What do you want?” Jack had asked, eyeing the other man suspiciously. Robby shrugged his shoulders with a mischievous smirk before pushing off from the doorway.

“Thought I’d come by and pay you a visit,” he hummed, pushing his way in. Jack snorted, shutting the door behind him and watched as Robby plopped down in one of the armchairs, dust shooting into the air around him.

“Don’t bullshit me, Robinavitch” Jack warned, though there was no real heat to it. He stumbled slightly as he worked his way into the other armchair, grunting as he finally found purchase. “You know I don’t like a bullshitter, and it’s hard to hide that thing.”

He gestured to the prosthetic, finally addressing the elephant in the room. Robby lifted the prosthetic with faux shock.

“What, this old thing?” he smirked. “Just found it lyin’ around. Don’t suppose you’d want to take it off my hands.”

“Where’d you get it?” Jack asked, eyeing it warily.

“Not important.”

“You steal it?”

“Do you want the damn thing or not?”

Jack sighed, leaning back in the chair as he gripped the arms tightly. He eyed Robby for another moment before wordlessly reaching out. His best friend grinned and handed it over, watching as the other strapped it on. It took him a moment to figure out how it worked, but he finally managed to strap it on.

“How’s it feel?” Robby asked, watching with a steady gaze. Jack shot him a look, not answering as he settled back in his chair.

“Why else are you here?”

“A thank you is customary, I think,” Robby teased, smile fading as Jack continued to stare at him. He sniffed, leaning back in his own chair before casting a look at the stern man.

“Got a proposition if you’re interested,” he continued. “Old pal of mine is out in the sticks making up his own giggle water and needs a place to dump it. Just so happens, I’ve got a place on the north side of town that would be perfect to open up a drum.”

“A speakeasy?” Jack hummed, a brow arching in intrigue. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a perfect idea,” Robby countered, an easy grin on his face. “The connections we got? It’ll be perfect. We’ll spruce up the place, of course—make it nice and pretty for the dames, and there’ll be plenty of entertainment for the fellas. What do you say?”

Jack mulled over his best friend’s words, chewing on the inside of his cheek before letting out a sigh.

“I dunno,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m tired, Robby.”

“Jack, listen to me,” Robby urged, leaning forward to look the wary man in the eyes. “Aren’t you tired of being tired? Don’t you want to feel alive again? This is how you can do it, pal. You and me—owners of the hottest place in town. We’ll make a killing, and you’ll be king of the castle.”

Jack shot him a look, and Robby chuckled.

“With me, of course.”

Jack sighed once more, a grimace playing on his lips as he considered the other man. It was a tempting proposal—to feel alive again. He almost forgot what it felt like. He often found himself on the roof of his building, pondering the pedestrians below, wondering how quickly he would go. And then the sun would rise, the warmth curling around him just as it did every day, and he would begrudgingly make his way back down the stairs and into his apartment.

“Alright,” he nodded. “What do you want from me?

It wasn’t long before the pair opened up their secret club, their reputations growing bigger as their appetites for the finer things grew as well. The pair ran a tight ship, bringing younger men into their fold as the years went on and the need for more enforcement grew. Their group earned the moniker “the Doctors,” which had originally started when one of the younger men overheard Robby teasingly refer to Jack as “Doc.” Jack had scowled, of course, but let the name slide, and before he was even aware, the name had expanded, and the younger members boasted about being one of the “city doctors.”

“It’s a stupid name,” Jack had grumbled one evening as Robby sat in one of the chairs opposite the great oak desk. Over a decade had passed now, and both men’s hair were more grey than anything. The lines on their face spoke to the many years of hard earned respect in their city, the brutality by which they gained it. They traded a speakeasy for an actual club—The Pitt they decided to call it. Robby said it was a nod to it being the very heart of the city, the pit of the fruit. Jack had snorted and said it was the pit of hell.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Robby smirked, leaning back in the leather armchair. “But it commands respect, apparently, and the boys use it with pride.”

“It’s still stupid.”

Robby sighed, the smirk slipping from his lips as he watched Jack. “How long you been working on those books?”

“Long enough,” was Jack’s curt reply.

“You should go home,” Robby told him, scratching at the beard forming on his chin. “Go find a girl downstairs to go with you. You’re too tense, and it looks like you could use the rest.”

“Not interested.”

“Come on,” Robby goaded. “Maybe you’ll find a nice girl and settle down finally.”

“What part of ‘not interested’ is not clicking for you?” Jack griped, shooting a half-hearted glare at the other man.

“The part where you said ‘not interested,’” snickered Robby. Jack set his pen down, fixing his full attention on him.

“If I take a girl home with me, will you shut up and leave me alone?” he asked. Robby grinned, shaking his head.

“Probably not.”

Jack rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he assessed the other man. “Why don’t you go downstairs and find yourself a girl, hm? Leave me in peace.”

“I would if I were interested in any of them,” Robby replied with a shrug.

“You’ve been interested in a few before,” Jack pointed out, earning a snort.

“Yeah, and none of them have panned out, have they?”

“So what makes you think I’ll find anything worthwhile down there?” Jack countered. Robby arched a brow at him.

“I think you’d be surprised what’s out there if you’d let yourself look,” Robby threw back, standing with a grunt. Jack watched him silently, thoughts hidden behind his usual stony exterior. Robby sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Just,” he paused, thinking over his words before shaking his head and heading for the door. “Just think on it, alright?”

Jack didn’t say anything in return, only moving once the door closed with a click. He tilted his head back to lean against the back of the chair with a sigh. He wasn’t interested in settling down—not when he had an empire to run. He ruled the eastern seaboard with an iron fist, and it would stay that way until his last breath. He wasn’t concerned about the frivolity of dating. No, if he did settle down, he needed someone by his side who understood what they were getting into. Someone who could balance him out in the right ways while still commanding the same respect that he did.

And he was certain that person didn’t even exist.

A/N: Typed this up to feel something again. Idk, are we back? Let's see if the Pitt fandom really is better than the TGM fandom lol

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[mapiforpresident]

Game Night

patri x reader x pina

Your shared apartment was unusually lively tonight. The living room, usually a calm space where you and your girlfriends could cuddle after long training sessions, had been transformed into game night central. The coffee table was cleared of its usual magazines and candles, replaced with board games, card decks, and snacks. Patri, had insisted on organizing the evening.

You were currently arranging the last of the snacks when you felt a pair of hands slide around your waist. “You’ve been working too hard, amor,” Patri murmured, her warm breath brushing against your ear. “Come sit. Everything is ready.”

You turned your head slightly, catching the soft smile on her face and couldn't help but lean in to kiss her. “Just finishing up. Someone has to keep this night running smoothly.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. You glanced toward the door, but Claudia was already sprinting past you. “I got it!”

A flurry of greetings filled the room as Ona and Lucy walked in, followed closely by Mapi and Ingrid, and then the youngsters. Aitana and Alexia trailed in last and you thought you saw a hickey peaking out from Aitana's shirt and Alexia seemed happier than usual but you weren't going to question it.

“Are we ready to crush each other?” Mapi announced, setting a bottle of wine onto the table with a smirk.

“Relax, Mapi,” Ingrid said, rolling her eyes fondly. “It’s just game night.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘just game night,’” Patri muttered under her breath, earning a laugh from you.

~~~

You had barely explained the rules of Pictionary before things descended into chaos. Teams were chosen—Patri, Lucy, and Ona against you, Claudia, and Mapi. Ingrid had volunteered as the judge, sitting back with a wine glass in hand, clearly enjoying the show. The rest of the girls lounged around ready to watch the game

“Alright, first word!” Ingrid said, flipping the timer over.

Patri grabbed the marker and began sketching furiously on the whiteboard. Lucy and Ona leaned in, shouting guesses almost immediately.

“Boat! Sailboat! Canoe!”

“No, no, no!” Patri huffed, erasing part of her drawing and adding something new.

“Paddleboard?” Ona guessed, tilting her head.

“Time’s up!” Ingrid declared, stifling a laugh as Patri groaned.

“It was a submarine! How did you not see it?” Patri gestured dramatically to her admittedly questionable drawing.

Lucy squinted at the board. “That’s a banana with windows.”

The room erupted in laughter, and you found yourself leaning into Claudia’s side as she grinned. “Patri’s competitive streak is showing,” she whispered, her tone teasing.

Your turn came next, and you took the marker with an air of confidence. The word was “elephant,” and you began sketching quickly.

“Tree? No, wait, a flower?!” Mapi shouted before you had even drew a full line.

“It’s obviously a horse,” Claudia added.

“Are you two serious?” you groaned, adding the trunk to your drawing.

“An anteater!”

“A giraffe?”

“Time’s up!” Ingrid announced again, and you turned to your teammates in mock disbelief.

“It was an elephant!” you exclaimed.

Mapi threw her hands up. “Well, your drawing could’ve fooled me.”

Claudia nudged you playfully. “Maybe we’re just bad guessers, amor.”

~~~

Pictionary was abandoned after Mapi and Lucy started bickering over the rules, and someone suggested Uno as a less contentious alternative. It was, in hindsight, a terrible idea.

“Draw 2!” Claudia said gleefully, slapping down her card.

“Why me?” Mapi groaned as she picked the cards up.

“Because you deserve it,” Claudia teased, sticking her tongue out.

You laughed at the playful banter, but your attention was drawn to Patri, who had been suspiciously quiet. She glanced at her hand, then at the stack, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

“I’m sorry, mi amor,” she said sweetly, before slamming a wild +4 card onto the pile.

Your jaw dropped. “Patri!”

“What? It’s part of the game,” she said innocently, though the gleam in her eye betrayed her.

“I thought you loved me!” you exclaimed dramatically, drawing your cards as the rest of the team burst into laughter.

Ona, meanwhile, had been plotting her own move as she skipped Lucy's turn.

The room erupted in chaos, with Mapi accusing Ona of stacking the deck after she used 4 skips in a row and Lucy attempting to challenge the legality of her skips. Amid the noise, you leaned back into your chair, Patri’s arm slipping around your shoulder.

“Chaos,” you murmured, though you couldn’t help but smile.

“Fun chaos,” Patri corrected, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

~~~

By the end of the night, the team had mellowed out, the earlier drama replaced by laughter and a few too many bottles of wine. Patri had pulled you onto the couch, her arms wrapped securely around you, while Claudia leaned against your other side.

“This was a good idea,” you said softly, glancing at the remnants of the evening scattered across the room.

Patri hummed in agreement. “Even if Mapi and Lucy nearly killed each other?”

“Especially because of that,” Claudia said, grinning. “What’s game night without a little drama?”

You laughed, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you. These moments, surrounded by your team and snuggled up with your girlfriends, were what made all the hard work worth it.

“Same time next month?” Ona called from across the room.

[hobi-side]

Stars We Never Caught | jhs

—  summary: At eleven, you met Hoseok. He was your older brother’s best friend, and for years, he was a constant in your world. Growing up alongside him, with Yoongi, your brother, and the rest of your crew, you never imagined that anything would ever change. Hoseok felt like family—always there but never quite a brother. It was a strange kind of closeness, one that never quite fit into the lines of what you understood.

But as you grew older, things started to shift. You got caught up in your own life, distracted by the swirl of adulthood. Now, back in Seoul, you find yourself drawn back to him. Whether it’s fate or coincidence, Hoseok is still there, and you can’t shake the pull that you’ve buried for so long. But perhaps some things are never meant to be—some stars are never meant to be caught, no matter how brightly they shine or are they?

— playlist: what was that - lorde, ribs - lorde, panic - beomgyu, wildest dreams - taylor swift, i need u (urban mix) - bts, run (ballad mix) - bts, cigarette daydreams - cage the elephant, the less i know the better - tame impala, 0x1 love song - txt, writer in the dark - lorde, somebody else - the 1975, your dog - soccer mommy + every mitski album.

— word count: 24.4k for this part—this is a long one shot like around 60k for the full thing and the tumblr editor hates me so we'll have like 4 parts of this

—  warnings: angst, longing, yearning, deep Yearn (I meant this), pinning (sorry), slow really slow burn (I meant this), brother's best friend, coming of age, yoongi being a big bro (we love you yoongles), overthinking, lots of inner monologue, growing pains in your 20s, adulthood being a pain in the ass, lots of deep talks, tension... so much tension (shit goes wrong or not....) OKAY, now onto other warnings: sweet love making—then horny people being horny people because they're deep in feelings but freaky as hell: big dick! hobi, f! m! masturbation, sex with feelings™, strenght kink, hickeys, HICKEYS, biting, deep throathing, choking, missionary, manhandling?

please, check the end notes in part four

part 2 | part 3 | part 4

When you met Hoseok, it wasn’t fate or magic—it was more like a random glitch in the universe. Ironic, really. He’d somehow managed to get lost in your tiny house, wandering around like it was a maze instead of a modest three-bedroom.

“Hey, kiddo, where’s the bathroom?” he asked, peeking into the living room with that same bright-eyed grin that would someday undo you.

You were eleven, stubborn, and already suspicious of anyone who called you kiddo. You stared up at him, unimpressed, then pointed to the door literally right beside him.

“Right there,” you said flatly. “Congrats, big guy. You survived the great labyrinth.”

He blinked, looked at the door, then at you again. “Guess I needed a guide.”

“You need glasses,” you muttered under your breath, but he just laughed like you’d told the funniest joke in the world.

“I’m guessing you’re Yoongi’s sister,” he said, squinting at you like you were a puzzle missing the picture on the box.

You didn’t bother to smile. Just crossed your arms and gave him the most unimpressed look an eleven-year-old could possibly summon. “Touché,” you replied, dry as ever.

He blinked, clearly not expecting sass from someone half his height. Maybe he thought you’d be shy or starstruck. Instead, you stared him down like he owed you rent.

“Wow,” he said, a chuckle slipping out. “You really are Yoongi’s sister.”

You tilted your head, slow and judgmental. “And you really got lost in a house with three rooms. That takes talent.”

He laughed—full-on, like you were the best thing that had happened to him all day. “Okay, okay. You got me. Note to self: don’t underestimate the small ones.”

“Good. Because I bite,” you said, deadpan.

He looked mildly alarmed for half a second before grinning even wider. “Duly noted.”

Just as Hoseok opened his mouth to say something else—probably another attempt at recovering from your verbal jab—Yoongi’s voice echoed from down the hall.

“Hobi, did you fall into the toilet or what?”

You smirked.

Hoseok turned toward the hallway. “I got a little… turned around.”

Yoongi appeared a second later, already wearing that look of brotherly exasperation. “How the hell did you get lost? The bathroom’s literally right there.”

“I told him,” you chimed in, hands on your hips like you’d just saved the day. “But apparently, he needs a map. Or a chaperone.”

Yoongi shot you a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “Don’t encourage her,” he told Hoseok, but you could see the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Hoseok held his hands up. “Hey, I’m just trying to survive here. She’s got your attitude, but, like—weaponized.”

You looked up at Yoongi. “You bring home lost puppies now?”

Yoongi groaned. “He’s not a puppy, he’s a person. Unfortunately.”

But Hoseok just laughed, shoulders shaking. “Nah, she’s cool. Sharp tongue, too. She’s gonna be dangerous when she grows up.”

You didn’t know it then, but that was the first compliment from him you’d ever remember. And years later, you’d still feel the echo of it every time he looked at you like you were the only one in the room.

You were twelve when you realized Jung Hoseok had become a permanent fixture in your family—not out of necessity, but because he simply belonged.

He had parents. A home. A life separate from yours. But he was the kind of person who attached himself to the people he cared about like it was the most natural thing in the world. Loud and vibrant, always quick to laugh, Hoseok moved into your everyday like sunlight slipping through the blinds—quiet, warm, and impossible to ignore.

No one questioned it. He had a seat at your dinner table, his shoes in the entryway, his jokes echoing through your house more days than not. He and Yoongi were inseparable. And somehow, without you noticing, you’d become part of that orbit too.

It didn’t feel strange anymore.

You were twelve too when you started to understand something you couldn’t name yet. And it happened, like most things in your life lately, by accident.

It was a weekend night, the kind where Hoseok and Yoongi holed up in your brother’s room with snacks and open windows and music low enough not to wake your mom. You were passing by the door—okay, lingering near it—when Hoseok’s voice floated out.

“She kissed me first, but… I kept thinking about it afterward.”

You stopped. Not for the first time that week, Hoseok sounded different. Not in a bad way. Just—older.

“I mean,” he continued, “I didn’t feel weird about it. Just… curious. Like, is it supposed to feel like that? Or is that just me being a guy?”

Yoongi let out a quiet snort. “It is you being a guy. But it’s not a bad thing.”

There was a beat.

“It’s not about sex or whatever,” Hoseok said. “I just—I like her. I think I do. But I don’t know what I’m doing. Like, where’s the line between just liking someone and wanting more?”

Yoongi’s voice was softer now. “That’s what growing up is, Hobi. Figuring out what your more is. You’re allowed to want things. You just gotta want them with respect. With clarity.”

“I don’t want to mess it up,” Hoseok murmured. “She’s not just someone I kissed. It’s more like… I want to hold her hand and not let go until she wants me to. That sounds dumb, right?”

“No,” Yoongi said. “That sounds honest.”

You didn’t mean to stay and listen. But you also couldn’t walk away. Because that Hoseok—the one whose voice cracked a little when he talked about someone he liked, who sounded half-nervous and half-hopeful, who admitted to wanting and not knowing—that Hoseok wasn’t just the boy who made up dances in your living room and teased you about your choice in cereal.

He was a guy. A real, living, breathing boy, standing on the edge of something big. Not perfect. Not polished. But real in a way that made your chest feel strange.

Later, you found him in the hallway, stretching his arms over his head. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he asked with a smile.

You shrugged. “Shouldn’t you?”

“Touche,” he said, then tapped your head gently with his knuckles. “Your brain never turns off, huh?” You gave him a look. “Takes one to know one.”

He grinned at that, all bright teeth and dimpled cheekbones. For a second, it was just Hoseok again—the one you’d always known.

But something had shifted. Just a little.

"Keep being brilliant, star."

You didn’t know why your face got hot, or why your chest tightened just a little. Maybe it was the way he said it so casually, like he hadn’t just branded a memory into your mind that you wouldn’t be able to shake. You mumbled something back, pretending it was no big deal. Pretending you didn’t already know, deep down, that you’d remember it forever.

It was one of those nights at your house, the kind where everyone was sprawled out in mismatched pajamas, the dim light from the TV flickering softly as a random movie played in the background. The air was heavy with laughter, chatter, and the scent of snacks, but it felt like time was stretching out—suspended, almost.

You had all crammed into Yoongi’s room — yes, you too, despite his half-hearted protests that Hoseok always overruled with a grin and an arm slung around your shoulders, claiming you were “officially part of the crew.” (Yoongi never really meant it anyway. If he had, he would’ve locked the door.)

The night blurred into snapshots — pillows flying through the air, laughter loud and untamed, the stupid kind of jokes that only made sense when you were too young to care about looking cool. The music was ridiculous, some weird mix Yoongi had found online, but Hoseok and Yoongi still danced to it anyway, competing over who could come up with the worst moves.

You sat cross-legged by the dresser, half-watching, half-sinking into the warmth of the room, your cheek pressed against your knee. Hoseok was at the foot of the bed, laughing so hard he nearly tipped over, and you swore you could feel his laugh vibrate through the floor, through the air, through you. It filled the space in a way that made you feel safe. Seen. Like maybe you belonged here too, if only because he made it feel that way.

It was strange, how natural it all felt. How Hoseok fit. Not just in Yoongi’s room. In your life.

At twelve, you didn’t know why your chest squeezed tight when Hoseok caught your eye across the room, or why your stomach flipped when he grinned like you were in on some private joke no one else could hear. You didn’t know why you wanted to memorize the way his hair stuck up in messy tufts, the way his laugh curled around the syllables of your name.

You just knew it mattered. Even if you couldn’t explain why.

“Hey, kid,” Hoseok said, nudging you with his elbow, his voice low and soft, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear. "You good?"

You blinked, startled out of your thoughts, pulling your knees closer like you could hide behind them. "Yeah," you said, too quickly, the word barely a breath.

He looked at you for a beat longer than necessary, head tilted slightly, a small crease between his brows like he didn’t quite believe you.

“You sure?” he asked, quieter now, the teasing edge slipping away. “You’ve been kinda quiet tonight.”

You wanted to tell him it was nothing. That you were just tired, like you always said when you didn’t have the words for the heavy, shapeless thing sitting in your chest. You shrugged instead. "Yeah. Just tired."

Hoseok smiled, easy and warm, and something in you unraveled a little.

“You know, Yoongi always says you’re an old soul,” he said, bumping your shoulder with his, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “I think you’re just trying to act cool.”

You huffed, the barest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m not acting cool. I just… don’t talk when I’m stuck with two idiots.”

Yoongi, catching only the tail end of the insult, scoffed from across the room. “Please. You’re the dramatic one. I deserve a medal for surviving you.”

You grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at his head without thinking. Yoongi retaliated instantly, and just like that, the room filled with the sound of laughter and flying pillows once again.

But even as you shouted and ducked for cover, even as you pretended to be annoyed at Yoongi, you could hear Hoseok’s laugh, steady and golden, threading through the noise like music only you could hear. It wrapped around you, soft and aching. It made you want things you didn’t have the language for yet.

Later, when the chaos burned itself out and the room sank into a heavy, comfortable silence, you caught him again — Hoseok, leaning against the wall, head tipped back, eyes tracing invisible patterns on the ceiling. Gone was the teasing, the bright-eyed energy. There was something almost fragile in him now, like he carried a thousand thoughts he didn’t know how to say out loud.

You watched him through half-lidded eyes, pretending you were too tired to notice. Pretending you weren’t memorizing him all over again. The soft rise and fall of his chest. The way his hand twitched restlessly against his knee, like his body couldn’t quite sit still even when his mind drifted somewhere far away.

It hurt. In a small, stupid way, it hurt — wanting to reach out, wanting to stay frozen in this exact moment forever, wanting something you didn’t even have a name for yet.

And somewhere deep inside, you understood: Some part of you would spend the rest of your life chasing this feeling. This night. This boy.

You closed your eyes and let the moment etch itself into you, down to the bone. Knowing even then that you would never really forget.

You sat there, in your pajamas, suddenly aware of how much his presence filled the space around you, how his easy grin and loud laughter had always been there, woven into the fabric of your life.

“Are you awake?” he asked, voice soft, like he wasn’t sure if he should disturb the quiet. You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or just to the room in general, but you answered anyway.

“I’m awake,” you whispered, unsure why your voice felt so small.

Hoseok looked over at you, his smile softening into something... different. Something you couldn’t quite place. "Good."

He didn’t say anything else, and you didn’t either. You could feel the space between you stretch and stretch, an invisible line that you didn’t know how to cross. You just stayed there, side by side, the weight of all the unspoken things hanging in the air.

When he stood to go, he ruffled your hair one last time, and it stung more than it usually did. “Goodnight, star.”

You didn’t reply right away. You just watched him walk out of the room, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the hallway, and suddenly, everything felt too quiet. Too still.

It was the first time you realized that you weren’t just waiting for him to notice you. You were waiting for something else. Something you didn’t know how to name.

And years later, when you looked back at that night, at the way Hoseok’s smile lingered a little longer than it had to, you’d ache for it. For the way you had no idea what you were feeling then, how you hadn’t known that it was already too late to go back to the way things were before.

The room had quieted even more now, the world outside feeling a million miles away. Yoongi was already half-asleep, his head tipped against the headboard, mumbling nonsense under his breath.

You stayed curled up by the dresser, feeling the heaviness of your own body sinking deeper into the carpet. You could hear your own breathing, soft and even, but more than that — you could hear Hoseok shifting, the quiet shuffle of him moving closer.

You didn’t dare open your eyes, too afraid the moment would break.

A hand brushed lightly through your hair, feather-light, so careful you almost thought you dreamed it. Then Hoseok’s voice, rough with sleep, low and barely-there:

"Get some rest, star. You’re gonna outshine us all someday."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep the sudden, stinging heat from spilling out. You didn’t move. Didn’t answer. Just let yourself pretend — for one night — that he saw you the way you saw him.

Somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, his hand lingered against your hair just a second too long before slipping away. The last thing you heard before sleep pulled you under was the faintest sound of his breath — a sigh, almost a wish — drifting into the quiet.

You were turning thirteen when things got somewhat serious — and not. Deep conversations were starting to be your thing. Funny.

You found Yoongi out on the back steps, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, a hoodie pulled over his head even though it wasn’t cold. The kind of night that smelled like rain and damp earth, thick with the kind of silence that made your chest feel tight.

You hesitated for a second, your bare toes curling against the cool floor. Then you padded over and dropped down beside him, close enough that your shoulders brushed.

Yoongi didn’t look at you. Didn’t have to.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, voice low and rough, like he'd been sitting there a while.

You shook your head, picking at the frayed edge of your pajama sleeve. "You either?"

He gave a humorless laugh, soft and tired. "Yeah. Guess not."

You sat in the quiet together for a long time. The kind of quiet that didn’t need to be filled.

It wasn’t weird. It never was with him. He was always just... there. Solid. Even when the rest of the world felt like it was shifting under your feet.

Maybe that was why you were so restless lately. It felt like everyone was expecting something from you — parents with their questions about school, teachers who suddenly wanted you to plan your future, even your friends who already seemed to know who they wanted to be. You didn’t know. You weren’t sure you even knew yourself yet. And somehow, it already felt like you were falling behind.

"You ever feel like..." you started, then trailed off, cheeks burning. Stupid. He probably thought you were being dramatic again.

But Yoongi just waited, like he had all the time in the world.

"...Like you’re supposed to be someone," you mumbled finally. "But you don't even know who yet. And it’s like — it’s like you’re already failing at it."

The words fell out, heavy and clumsy, but real.

Yoongi finally turned to look at you, his eyes shadowed under the hood. And then, without saying anything, he reached out and flicked your forehead, gentle but firm.

"You're thirteen," he said, voice a little rough. "You don’t have to have it figured out."

You scowled, rubbing the spot he flicked. "Yeah, well. It feels like I do."

Yoongi smiled — small, crooked, the kind of smile he only gave you when no one else was around.

"Listen," he said, bumping his knee against yours. "You don't have to be anything yet. You’re allowed to just... be a mess for a while. You hear me, kid?"

You made a face at him, and he ruffled your hair so hard you nearly toppled over.

But then he pulled you into a headlock — gentle, loose — and you realized he was hugging you. Sort of.

The way Yoongi did when he didn’t have the words either.

"You’re already my favorite person," he said, so soft you almost didn’t catch it. "Even if you’re a mess."

Your throat closed up. You buried your face against his arm and didn’t answer.

You didn’t have to. He already knew.

Maybe that was why you missed it at first — the way his arm stayed around you just a second longer than it needed to. The way his shoulders, usually so loose and careless, felt a little too tense under your cheek.

Maybe you would only realize it later. How Yoongi, seventeen and already carrying more than he let you see, had needed to hear those same words just as much as you had.

But that night, you were just a kid, safe in the only place that didn’t expect you to be anything more.

And Yoongi? Yoongi just sat there, holding you tighter, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go either.

Later, you'd wonder if Yoongi had been talking to himself just as much as to you.

It was the night before Hoseok's sixteenth birthday, and somehow you found yourselves sprawled out on the living room floor — you, Hoseok, and Yoongi — passing a half-eaten bag of chips back and forth while a terrible movie played on TV.

The kind of night that felt like it could stretch on forever if you just didn't move. If you just stayed.

You didn’t even realize you were watching Hoseok more than the movie until you caught the way he was fiddling with the hem of his hoodie, like he had something he wanted to say.

"Hey," Hoseok said suddenly, glancing over at Yoongi. "Can I ask you something?"

Yoongi grunted, not looking up from his phone. "When have you ever waited for permission?"

Hoseok grinned, but there was a nervous edge to it. He glanced once at you — quick, like he wasn’t sure if he should say it — then back at Yoongi.

"It's just... I dunno. Kinda dumb."

Yoongi set his phone down with an exaggerated sigh. "Out with it, idiot."

You hugged your knees to your chest, pretending you weren’t hanging onto every word.

Hoseok shifted, running a hand through his hair.

"Have you ever kissed someone?"

The question hung there, heavy, making your heart thump a little too hard against your ribs.

Yoongi barked out a laugh. "Seriously? That’s what you’re asking?"

"Shut up," Hoseok muttered, shoving his shoulder. "I mean — like — what’s it supposed to feel like? The first time."

You stared hard at the TV, pretending you weren’t listening.

Yoongi leaned back against the couch, smirking a little. "Depends. Was it good or did you both just bump noses and freak out?"

Hoseok groaned. "Not helpful."

"First ones are usually bad," Yoongi said, sounding too casual. "You figure it out."

You could feel Hoseok squirming beside you, the way his leg kept jiggling against the carpet.

"I kissed someone," Hoseok blurted. "Last weekend. Kinda."

Your chest squeezed so tight it hurt.

"Oh?" Yoongi raised a brow. "Kinda?"

"It was just a stupid dare thing," Hoseok rushed to say, looking vaguely embarrassed. "Doesn't count, right?"

Yoongi snorted. "Still a kiss, dumbass."

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t trust yourself to. The words stuck somewhere behind your teeth, thick and aching.

You wished you could laugh it off too. Wished it didn’t feel like you’d swallowed something sharp and bitter.

Hoseok glanced at you again, sheepish. "Not a big deal, Star," he said, nudging your shoulder with his. Like he could sense you withdrawing without even realizing why.

You managed a weak smile. "Yeah. Not a big deal."

But it was. It was.

You were thirteen, and you didn’t have the words for it yet. Didn’t know how to say that you already felt the world tilting — already felt him slipping just a little out of reach.

And Hoseok, still laughing, still right there beside you, didn’t realize he was breaking your heart.

Not yet.

After the conversation about kisses — the one that made your chest feel tight and your breath shaky — the night carried on like nothing had changed. You could still hear Hoseok’s easy laugh. Could still feel his presence next to you, warm and constant.

But somehow, it felt a little quieter. A little farther away.

You weren’t sure if it was just in your head or if something was really shifting. But when Hoseok threw an arm around you later, like he always did when he was feeling too goofy to sit still, it didn’t feel the same.

His arm was heavy around your shoulders, but the touch wasn’t familiar anymore. It didn’t make you feel safe or right in the way it had before. It just felt... wrong. Like you had outgrown it, even if you weren’t ready to let it go.

You let him pull you closer, resting your head against his shoulder, even though your heart wasn’t in it.

"Relax, Star," Hoseok teased, his voice light and playful. "I know you want me to steal the show with all my charm."

You should’ve laughed. You should’ve made a joke back, like you always did.

But you couldn’t. Not tonight.

Instead, you stayed quiet, letting your eyes drift to the dark window, wishing it was easier to ignore the way your heart was pulling in the wrong direction.

When you shifted, trying to get comfortable under his arm, Hoseok didn’t notice. He was already talking to Yoongi about something else, something that made him laugh again — bright, carefree. The kind of laugh that didn’t reach you anymore.

And when he looked down at you, his eyes full of playful energy, you wondered if he had ever really seen you at all. If he ever would again.

"Come on, kid," Hoseok said, giving your shoulder a little shake, pulling you out of your thoughts. "You gotta have more fun on my birthday eve. Got it?"

You looked up at him, forcing a smile. "Yeah, sure," you mumbled, voice hollow.

He didn’t seem to notice. He never did.

But the ache was there, deep in your chest, each beat of your heart a reminder of how everything was already starting to change.

And Hoseok, so lost in the excitement of his almost-birthday, didn’t see it. Didn’t see that even now, you were already slipping further away from him — and he didn’t even know.

At fourteen, you decided you had enough. You had always been the kind of person who, when something really clicked, when you truly wanted it, could put your entire heart into it. And now, as you started becoming aware of the things you didn’t want, the parts of yourself that felt like they were suffocating — that’s when you finally took it seriously.

You’d spent so many years in Yoongi and Hoseok’s orbit. It was almost like you didn’t need anyone else. They were your world — they were your friends, your brothers. It was easier to just be with them. Their laughter, their chaos, their endless antics filled up the spaces where you might’ve needed something else.

But as you turned fourteen, you started noticing the cracks. It wasn’t that you were falling apart from their crew, not exactly. You weren’t leaving them behind or anything, but something inside you was shifting. You weren’t just the girl who hung out with her older brother and his best friend anymore. You were growing into something else — someone else.

You started hanging out with your own friends, something you never really had the chance to do before. Not because you didn't want to, but because Hoseok and Yoongi were around all the time, always the first ones to grab your attention, to fill up your time. But now, with a new sense of self, you realized that you didn’t have to always be the younger one, the one trailing behind, laughing at jokes that only Yoongi and Hoseok found funny.

Jungkook, for instance — he wasn’t the first person you’d met, but somehow, he was the one who stayed. You had something with him that didn’t require much explanation. It wasn’t intense, not like the kind of connection you felt with Yoongi or Hoseok, but there was something comforting about it. Jungkook was just... there. And that mattered.

Then there was Yeji. Slowly, over time, she became a part of your circle, and she had this effortless way of making you feel seen, like you didn’t have to always be the side character in someone else’s story. She made you laugh in ways you didn’t know you needed, and more than that, she made you feel like you could stand on your own.

At fourteen, your world started to look different.

You had Yeji.

It was funny, because you never realized how much you needed a girl like her in your life until she was right there. You had always been with the boys, never really having a close girlfriend. Sure, you’d gotten along with other girls in school, but it was different. Yeji was different.

It wasn’t just that she understood the girl things you never had anyone to talk about before. It was more than that. It was the way she would pull you into her world, the way she could turn a casual conversation into an hour-long talk about everything. She was the kind of girl who would share her deepest thoughts and her biggest secrets, and for the first time, you could do the same. You found yourself talking about things you never thought you’d share with anyone: crushes, the weird shifts in your body you didn’t quite understand yet, or the moments of pure frustration with everything around you that made you feel like you didn’t fit.

Yeji didn’t judge. She just listened, and that made her someone you could trust. A girl who would get it.

You weren’t sure if it was because she was the first girl who really saw you — understood you, without needing to ask the typical “girl” questions, but there was a comfort in her presence that you hadn’t realized was missing. She wasn’t just a friend; she was becoming a part of your inner circle, a person who could share those moments with you that only a girl would understand. The girl things. The little giggles, the late-night secrets, the makeup tutorials, and even the way you both could laugh at something that no one else understood.

And then there was Jungkook. He was... different.

A boy, but so effortlessly part of your world. It wasn’t because he tried to be — it was because he was. He wasn’t the kind of guy who would try to outshine everyone or act like he was too cool for the girls. Jungkook was soft, respectful, and the kind of person who understood when to step back and when to step in. There was something so honorable about him, the way he treated you, Yeji, and everyone around him like equals. Not like the girls were some kind of afterthought, but the kind of respect that made him an important part of the crew, without needing to prove anything.

He was the boy who listened. The one who would just show up, no questions asked. The one who would hand you a hoodie without a second thought when it got chilly, or quietly offer to carry your books without making it a big deal. It wasn’t anything special on the surface, but it was. He was a gentleman in the truest sense, without even trying.

With Jungkook, you never felt like you had to second-guess his intentions. He wasn’t trying to fit into a mold; he was just being himself. And that made it easy to talk to him. Easy to be around him. Easy to let him be a part of the little group that was starting to feel like it was growing into something more.

Your world had expanded beyond Yoongi and Hoseok. You still shared everything with them, of course, but now it was different. You weren’t just the girl hanging around their world anymore. You had your own people, your own circle, your own way of being.

Yeji and Jungkook made sure you never felt alone in this transition. They were there when you needed them, and without even realizing it, they filled spaces you didn’t even know existed.

The three of you, together, were something else. You had your own rhythm. You didn’t need to worry about fitting into the mold anymore because with them, you were finally becoming yourself.

You were growing, yes. And you were growing with them.

Not away from Yoongi and Hoseok, but into something more.

At fifteen, the three of you had an unspoken ritual — after school, you’d all meet up at the small café near your school. It was a cozy little place, tucked away on a quiet street, away from the bustling crowds. The soft hum of conversations, the gentle clinking of coffee cups, and the comforting smell of freshly baked pastries always made it feel like a small haven — a space where you could just be yourselves, without anyone expecting anything more.

It was the kind of place that felt like home, even if it wasn’t. You’d sit for hours, talking about everything and nothing at all. It was where you laughed the loudest, where your hearts felt the lightest, and where things between you, Yeji, and Jungkook just… made sense.

Today, however, the usual comfort of the café felt different. Yeji, usually the life of the group, was quieter than usual. Her eyes, usually bright with laughter, were clouded with something you couldn’t place. You, on the other hand, sat there, trying to make sense of the shift in the air, and Jungkook, the ever-soft and caring presence, seemed to sense it too.

The silence between you felt like a weight, one that only seemed to get heavier as the minutes ticked by. Yeji wasn’t talking, wasn’t joking, wasn’t even smiling. And it bothered you more than you wanted to admit.

Finally, you couldn’t take it any longer. “Yeji,” you asked softly, your voice cutting through the stillness, “What’s going on?”

She looked at you, her eyes wide, as if she hadn’t expected you to ask. And then, after a long pause, she let out a shaky breath and spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I can keep pretending,” she admitted, her words fragile and heavy. “Like everything’s fine. Like I’m fine.”

The words landed with a weight in your chest. Yeji had always been the strong one, the one who laughed through the tough moments, who pulled everyone else up when things got hard. To hear her say those words, to see her vulnerability like that — it hit you in a way that made your heart ache.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the concern creeping in as you reached for her hand, gently brushing your fingers over her trembling skin.

She swallowed hard, her eyes cast downward. “It’s my parents,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “They’re always fighting. Yelling at each other all the time. I don’t know how to deal with it anymore. I feel like… like I’m falling apart. And I don’t even know how to talk to anyone about it.”

You felt your heart twist, an ache forming deep in your chest. It was the kind of pain that hurt but made you want to do something about it, to ease the weight that was pressing on her. Yeji had always been the bright one, the one who made you laugh even when you didn’t want to. To see her like this was jarring, unsettling.

You squeezed her hand gently, trying to offer the kind of comfort she’d given you so many times before. “You don’t have to carry it all alone,” you whispered, your voice firm with quiet determination. “We’re here. You can talk to us. You don’t have to hide it from us. Not anymore.”

She looked at you, her expression softening just a little, but the rawness of her pain was still there, lingering beneath the surface. The silence that followed wasn’t heavy — it was filled with understanding. Jungkook, who had been watching from across the table, finally spoke, his voice calm but filled with warmth. “We’ve got your back. Always.”

Yeji’s lips trembled as she tried to smile, though it was small, fragile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

And in that moment, as you sat there with your friends, it felt like time slowed down. Everything else in the world faded away, and the three of you were the only ones that mattered. The love between you wasn’t perfect — it wasn’t even always easy — but it was real, and that was enough. No matter what came next, you would face it together.

It was the kind of evening that made the house feel warmer than it actually was. The laughter from the living room carried through the walls, but you found yourself alone in the kitchen. Your parents were hosting their usual get-together with friends, their voices filling the air like background noise to your thoughts.

You were fifteen, not quite ready to step into the world, but also not quite ready to stay in the same place. Everything was in that limbo, like you were floating somewhere between childhood and something else, something that felt exciting and terrifying. The taste of adulthood, or at least the idea of it, was closer than ever, and tonight, something was off. You felt restless.

The kitchen was quiet, except for the hum of the fridge. Your eyes wandered to a glass on the counter, its pink hue promising something sweet, something light. It didn’t smell strong, just sugary, like it was meant for someone your age. Maybe a cocktail, but not something too serious, not something you couldn’t handle. Or so you thought.

You grabbed the glass without a second thought, sipping it slowly, then quickly, as it spread warmth through you, making the edge of your thoughts blur a little. There was a lightness in your chest, but a nagging sensation too—something you couldn’t explain, like you were caught in between.

And then there was Hoseok. He appeared in the doorway, his presence warm like always, but there was a tension in the air that you couldn’t quite place.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice a little lower than usual, like he was concerned, but still playful. His eyes settled on the glass in your hand, then back to your face.

You blinked at him, your mind fuzzy, but still clear enough to notice how his gaze softened. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, though it felt like everything was spinning in slow motion. “Just a little... fun. You know?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he stepped closer, his smile not reaching his eyes. “You sure about that? You’ve had a lot to drink, Star.”

You only half-heard him. You didn’t care. The world felt too far away, and all you could focus on was him—Hoseok, the one person who had always been there. The one person who never made you feel small, who always made you feel... important. You didn’t know why that mattered so much at this moment, but it did.

You took a step forward, unsteady on your feet, but you didn’t notice the way Hoseok’s face tightened with concern. “Hoseok,” you said, your voice soft, slurring just a little, but he could hear the longing in it. “You’ve always been there. Always.”

He hesitated for a second, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady you as you swayed slightly, and his touch lingered on your arm for just a moment too long. “Hey, hey, you’re not thinking straight, alright?” His voice was soft but firm. “You’ve had too much to drink. Let’s get you to sit down, okay?”

You shook your head, but your feet didn’t seem to listen to you. You were too close to him now, the air between you charged with something—something you couldn’t understand, but you felt it in your chest, a sharp, aching desire. You looked up at him, eyes wide, searching for something in his gaze, anything to make sense of the confusing feelings inside of you.

“I just...” You paused, and your heart raced as you took another step forward, reaching for his hand. “I just want to be close to you.”

His face softened, but there was a quiet sadness in his eyes. He gently pulled his hand back, just enough to put some space between you. “You don’t want that, not like this.” His voice was gentle, the words not sharp, but carrying a weight that made your chest tighten. “You’re drunk. You need to sleep this off, alright?”

You didn’t understand what he meant, but your vision blurred again, the world fading in and out, until all you could focus on was him. You wanted him closer, needed to feel his warmth, but he stepped back, his presence still strong, but now filled with something that felt almost like regret.

“I can’t, Star,” Hoseok murmured, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, his touch warm but careful. “You’re not ready for this.”

And then, as if sensing how lost you were, he gently guided you to sit down on the kitchen counter. His hands were steady, but there was an unease in him, something he wasn’t showing outwardly. He didn’t want you to remember this moment, not like this.

The last thing you remembered was his voice, soft and calm, saying, “You’re not yourself right now. But you will be again.”

You couldn’t remember what happened after that. Everything slipped away like sand through your fingers. The alcohol fogged your memory, and the next morning, when you woke up with a dull headache and no recollection of the night, something in your chest tightened—a dull ache that lingered but couldn’t be explained.

And Hoseok? He never mentioned it. Never brought it up. As if it had never happened. Maybe, in some part of you, you’d been relieved that he hadn’t.

But for him? Maybe it was just another moment he’d quietly tucked away, hoping you’d never remember.

And you never did.

At fifteen, everything felt like it was happening all at once. Your body was changing in ways you didn't understand, and your emotions were even more confusing. One moment, you felt like you could take on the world. The next, you were staring at the mirror, wondering who the stranger was that was starting to appear.

You hated how your body was betraying you, slowly and relentlessly. It wasn’t just your growing boobs that made you self-conscious. It was the little things. The way your clothes fit differently, the tightness in your jeans that made you uncomfortable, the extra curve in places you didn’t know you could have curves. And then there was the damn pimple that appeared out of nowhere—right on the tip of your nose. You’d never felt so aware of your face.

You spent most of the day trying to cover it up with makeup, but nothing worked. All you could think about was how it made you look like a teenager who still didn’t know how to take care of herself. What if Jiwon noticed? What if he thought you were ugly?

The thought of it gnawed at you as you walked to the café after school, where you met Yeji, Jungkook, and Jiwon. It was a weird dynamic. Yeji had been your best friend for so long, but there was something different now. You and Yeji were becoming closer in ways that felt almost… feminine. The kind of friendship that had secrets and whispered conversations about boys, about growing up. It was a side of yourself you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had become a bit like a brother to you. He was always respectful, kind, and effortlessly sweet, but he’d also become part of your growing crew, someone who always made you feel safe and valued.

Then there was Jiwon.

He’d started as just another face in the group, but somewhere along the way, he’d become something more. It wasn’t intentional, but every time he looked at you, it felt like he was seeing you in a way no one else did. It was a weird mix of excitement and fear. You were growing, but you didn’t know what to do with the feelings you had for him. He made you nervous in a way no one else did, and it was all so new.

After the café, the group started walking home, the usual chatter filling the air. But as you neared your house, there was this weird tension between you and Jiwon. He had been close all afternoon, his elbow brushing yours more times than you could count. His smile was easy, but there was something different about how he looked at you. It made your heart race.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you turned the corner to your street. You hadn’t planned for this—this awkwardness, the sudden shift between friends and something else.

“So,” Jiwon said, his voice a little quieter than usual. “You live around here?”

You nodded, suddenly aware of how close you were to your front door. “Yeah. Just up there.”

He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “That’s cool. I’ve been meaning to ask you… want to hang out sometime? Just the two of us?”

Before you could even process the question, he was already stepping closer, his hand lightly brushing your arm. You looked up at him, and for a moment, it felt like everything stopped. You felt it—the fluttering in your stomach, the heat of your cheeks, the nervousness that made your hands clammy. And then, just like that, he leaned in.

It was quick, sudden, and so soft that you barely had time to react. His lips brushed yours in a gentle, hesitant kiss, and for a split second, everything in your world felt like it was both spinning out of control and perfectly still. Your heart was racing, your thoughts scattering, and the only thing you could focus on was the warmth of his lips against yours.

And then, just as quickly as it had happened, he pulled back, a shy smile on his face. "Sorry," he said, his voice almost apologetic. "I didn’t want to make it weird. But, uh… I liked that."

You were speechless, your heart still thudding in your chest. You didn’t know what to say, how to process the flood of emotions rushing through you.

But just then, you heard a voice—a familiar, distant voice—calling out from the porch.

“Oh?”

It was Yoongi. He had been standing there, watching the whole thing unfold. Your heart dropped. You hadn’t even realized he was home, let alone that he’d seen everything. You turned to him, wide-eyed, suddenly feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to.

Yoongi didn’t say anything at first, just stared at the two of you with a look you couldn’t quite read. His eyes flickered between you and Jiwon, and for a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence.

“Uh, hey, Yoongi,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your voice was high-pitched, like you were a deer caught in headlights.

Yoongi shrugged, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t know you were hanging out with this guy.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but you knew he was trying to hide it.

Jiwon, being the brave soul he was, chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I think we’re getting to know each other better.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything more. He turned and disappeared into the house without another word. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, but the awkwardness lingered. You looked back at Jiwon, your heart still racing, and for a moment, neither of you knew what to say.

“Well,” Jiwon said, his grin returning, “I guess I’ll see you around, huh?”

You nodded, still a little dazed, but your lips curved into a small smile. “Yeah. I’ll see you.”

As he walked away, you stood there for a moment, still trying to process what had just happened. Everything was changing—your body, your feelings, your relationships—and it was all moving so fast that you didn’t know how to catch up. But one thing was for sure: you were no longer the same person you’d been just a few months ago.

And that kiss? It was the first taste of a world you didn’t yet understand, a world that was both exciting and terrifying in equal measure.

It had been a few minutes after that kiss—the kiss with Jiwon—and you were figuring out what the hell it even meant. Honestly, it was nice in a way, but you couldn’t help feeling a bit... awkward about it. That kiss was just one small thing in a much bigger world of changes you didn’t know how to handle.

The thing that made it a hundred times worse? Yoongi.

You should’ve known since Yoongi saw both of you. You should’ve know. You could almost hear his smirk as you walked into the living room, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the girl who’s been kissed.” Yoongi’s voice was casual, but you could hear the amusement dancing in his words.

You froze, feeling your heart drop into your stomach. “I’m not dealing with this right now,” you muttered, trying to walk past him.

Yoongi blocked your path with ease, his arms folded. “Oh no, you’re dealing with this. So, how was it?” His grin was mischievous, the kind that made you want to disappear into the floor.

You sighed, exasperated. “Yoongi, stop.”

He didn’t stop. He never stopped.

“Oh come on,” he teased, his voice light but edged with that playful brotherly tone you knew all too well. “You’re turning into a real heartbreaker, huh? First kiss and all, with Jiwon of all people.” He laughed, clearly enjoying the moment way too much.

You bit your lip, trying to hide your embarrassment. “It was just a kiss, Yoongi. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Oh, really?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Then why do you look like you’re about to burst into flames when I mention his name?” He took a step closer, his teasing growing more intense. “It’s obvious. You’ve got a crush. No need to be shy about it.”

You could feel your face burning. “I don’t!” you protested, but it came out weaker than you intended.

He smirked. “You don’t, huh? Then why did you hide the whole thing for so long? You didn’t want to tell me? You were trying to keep it a secret?”

Before you could reply, Yoongi took it a step further, and you heard the worst possible thing.

“Hey, Hoseok,” Yoongi called out to the other room. He was there too, shit. “Guess what? Our little girl got her first kiss. From Jiwon! Can you believe it?” He gave you a sly wink, as if this was all just a funny game.

Hoseok’s voice echoed from the room. “Wait, what? Friend Jiwon? She did?” He appeared in the doorway, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “You kissed him, huh? Nice one!” Hoseok’s grin was like the cherry on top of your misery.

“No, I didn’t—” you started, but it was no use. Yoongi was already on a roll, and Hoseok had joined in, both of them feeding off each other’s energy like they had no mercy.

You couldn’t even get a word in edgewise. It was like Yoongi and Hoseok had become one unstoppable force of teasing. You buried your face in your hands, wishing for the ground to swallow you up.

You couldn’t even look at Yoongi the same after that. He was the worst kind of older brother—the one who knew all your embarrassing moments and made sure everyone else knew too. He’d throw a random “Hey, don’t forget about Jiwon!” at you while you were in the middle of trying have dinner alone. And Hoseok? Hoseok joined in like it was his new favorite hobby, throwing in his own playful jabs.

But, deep down, you knew they didn’t mean any harm. They were just teasing, and in their own way, they were showing that they noticed—that you were growing up, and that they saw you in a different light.

It had been a couple of days since the kiss with Jiwon. You hadn’t really talked about it with anyone—not with Yoongi, who had been unbearable with his teasing, and certainly not with Hoseok, who had an uncanny way of making everything feel like a joke. But now, as you sat across from Yeji at your usual spot in the park, the weight of it all seemed harder to ignore.

Yeji was always easy to talk to. She had this calm, steady way about her that made everything feel less complicated. You had known her long enough to know that she didn’t judge, and she wasn’t afraid to call you out if she thought you were being ridiculous. And right now, you were feeling ridiculous.

"So, how was it? With Jiwon?" Yeji asked, casually nibbling on a snack, though you could see the curiosity in her eyes. You could never hide anything from her for long.

You shifted uncomfortably, staring at the ground. “It was... nice. But also weird,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I don’t even know what I’m doing, Yeji. It’s just... everything’s changing so fast.”

Yeji nodded, her expression softening with understanding. “You’re not alone in that, you know. I remember feeling all over the place when things started shifting for me. Our bodies change, we start liking people differently, and sometimes we feel like we don’t even recognize ourselves. It’s okay to feel confused.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It’s like... one minute I’m fine, and the next, my heart’s racing and I can’t even think straight. And then Jiwon kisses me, and it’s all I can think about for days. But then it’s like... am I even ready for all this?”

Yeji leaned forward, her gaze steady and reassuring. “No one’s ever really ready for it, you know? Love, or whatever this is. But it doesn’t mean you’re not worth it or that you can’t figure it out as you go along. If Jiwon makes you feel good about yourself, that’s all that matters for now.”

You smiled, grateful for her words. It was simple, but it made you feel less alone in all the confusion. “Thanks, Yeji,” you said softly.

A few days later, you found yourself sitting next to Jungkook during lunch. He had this way of making you feel like everything was less serious, even when your mind was racing with a thousand questions. He was always so laid-back, but you knew he was thoughtful in his own way.

“So, Jiwon, huh?” Jungkook asked, nudging your shoulder with his. “You two still going strong?”

You laughed nervously, looking away for a moment. “I don’t know, Kook. It’s all just... confusing. I mean, I like him, but I don’t even know if I know what I’m doing.” You paused, feeling a little embarrassed by how unsure you sounded. “Is that weird?”

Jungkook shrugged, his smile small but comforting. “Nah, not weird at all. You’re still figuring things out. You’re not supposed to have it all figured out. I don’t think anyone does.” He leaned back, glancing at you with those warm, soft eyes that made everything feel more okay. “And if you like him, then you like him. That’s enough, right?”

You couldn’t help but feel lighter after hearing that from him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you said with a sigh. “It’s just... I never thought it would be like this, you know? It’s hard to just... go with the flow when everything’s changing.”

“I get it,” Jungkook said, his voice sincere. “But you’re not alone in it. I mean, I’m here, Yeji’s here... we all are. And no matter what happens with Jiwon, you���ve got us.”

His words felt like a quiet reassurance, like a promise that things would be okay, no matter how messy they felt right now. You looked over at him, feeling grateful for how much he cared, and for the way he never made you feel like you had to be anything other than yourself around him.

“I’m glad you’re here, Kook,” you said softly.

He smiled at you, a little shy but warm. “Always. That’s what friends are for.”

As you laid on your bed later, reflecting on everything—Jiwon, Yeji’s advice, Jungkook’s words—you realized something important. It wasn’t that you needed to have everything figured out, or that you needed to rush through your feelings. You just needed to be honest with yourself, and to trust that whatever was happening with Jiwon was part of your journey. You didn’t need to have all the answers, just the courage to keep going.

And maybe that was the first step toward learning what real love and friendship meant.

Yoongi’s graduation ceremony was a quiet celebration of change. You watched him—your older brother, the one who had always been there in ways only he could—standing in his cap and gown, the weight of it all settling in your chest. He wasn’t just growing up; he was stepping into a future that was further and further from you, and that realization was a strange kind of ache.

He was leaving for Seoul next month to attend SNU, and with each passing day, it felt more real. He wasn’t just your brother anymore. He was someone on his own path, and soon enough, that path would take him places that you wouldn’t always be able to follow.

For the first time, you could feel that distance creeping in—not in the obvious ways, but in the subtle, unspoken shifts. You both understood that things were changing.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked, his voice soft but teasing, as if he already knew what was going through your head. He nudged you lightly with his elbow, the same small, familiar gesture he had always done.

You nodded, but there was a lingering ache in your chest. "Yeah, just... thinking. It’s just weird, you know? You’re going to SNU. Things are really changing, aren’t they?”

Yoongi's gaze softened, the teasing edge to his smile replaced with something quieter, something that seemed to settle between the two of you. “Yeah, they are,” he agreed, pausing for a moment, as though searching for the right words. “But I’m still gonna be around. I’m not going anywhere.”

The way he said it wasn’t just reassurance. It was an understanding. He was making a promise, but you both knew it wasn’t about physical presence—it was about knowing that no matter where life took him, you were still part of the same story. Always.

You swallowed, trying to push past the emotions rising in your chest. “It’s just... you’ve always been my favorite person,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “You’ve always been the one I could count on.”

For a moment, Yoongi was silent, the air between you two thick with everything unsaid. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice soft but full of that quiet certainty you’d always loved.

“And so you are to me, kiddo,” he said, his voice breaking through the ache in your heart. It was simple, but there was so much meaning behind it.

It wasn’t just a throwaway line. It was Yoongi, admitting, in the quietest way possible, how much you meant to him. He didn’t need grand gestures or words to express it; it was in the weight of those few words, the sincerity behind them.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your eyes welled up just slightly, not from sadness, but from the realization that even though things were changing, this—this bond between you two—wasn’t going anywhere. It would stretch, it would bend, but it would never break.

“I’m proud of you,” you said, your voice unsteady. “So proud of you. You’ve always known exactly what you wanted, and now you’re doing it.”

Yoongi looked at you, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes. He reached out, his hand ruffling your hair in that familiar way that felt like home.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me, alright?” he teased, his usual smirk returning, but it was softer now. “You’re a big girl now. You can’t cry over a stupid graduation.”

But there was no hiding the pride in his voice, the pride he felt in you, too. It was the unspoken connection that tied you both together. Even as he took this next step in his life, he knew you were always going to be there, just as you knew he would be.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, forcing a laugh, but it was laced with the emotions you couldn’t quite explain. “But you’re still my favorite person, Yoongi. Even if you’re going to Seoul. Even if things change.”

Before he could respond, Hoseok, ever the interrupter, popped up behind you, his grin wide and mischievous. “I swear, if you two keep this up, I’m going to need a tissue,” he said, laughing. “Come on, man, don’t get all sappy on us. You’re supposed to be the cool one, Yoongi.”

Yoongi shot Hoseok a look, rolling his eyes but with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Shut up, Hoseok. I’m allowed to be sentimental every once in a while, right?”

Hoseok laughed, shaking his head. “Only because it’s your graduation day. After that, you’re back to being the stoic, mysterious guy we all know and love.”

You smiled at the two of them, the warmth between you all unmistakable. Hoseok had always been the one to break the tension, and right now, his presence reminded you of the little crew you had—Yoongi, Hoseok, and you. Even as things were shifting, that bond was unshakable.

Yoongi took a deep breath, his gaze briefly softening before he spoke again. “I’m gonna miss you, kid,” he said, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge gone. “But I’ll be back. And when I am, we’ll make up for all this sappy stuff.”

You nodded, smiling as you fought back the small knot of emotions in your throat. “I know. Just... make sure you come back and visit, okay?”

“I’ll be back,” Yoongi assured, his tone full of quiet certainty. “And when I do, we’ll do this whole thing all over again.”

You both stood there, in that shared moment of understanding, as Hoseok cracked another joke, but the feeling between you all was deep and lasting. The future was starting to pull them away, but the bond you all shared wasn’t something that would fade with time. You really hoped for that though.

At sixteen, or more accurately, soon to turn sixteen—your birthday just two weeks away—you broke up with Jiwon. It was the kind of breakup that didn’t feel dramatic or full of shouting, but it left an emptiness in its wake, a quiet ache you couldn’t quite place.

You started this whole relationship—or whatever it was—with excitement. You imagined butterflies in your stomach, the thrill of late-night texts, the kind of sweet, innocent things you had read about in books or seen in movies. But, as time passed, it all started to feel... cold. Not in a harsh way, but in a way that made you realize it wasn’t what you had thought it would be.

Jiwon, he was sweet, funny, and yes—he made your heart race in a way that was new, in a way you hadn’t experienced before. But for some reason, that racing heart wasn’t enough to keep you going.

It wasn’t that he had done anything wrong. Jiwon was a good guy. But when you looked at him, you didn’t feel the same pull that you thought you would. The butterflies had faded, and all you could hear was the quiet thrum of uncertainty growing louder inside you.

Part of it was the distance. He was moving to Seoul soon, only a couple of hours away by train, but that felt like the distance of an entire world. And you weren’t sure if you were willing to hold onto something that wasn’t fully there.

Your heart wasn’t in it—not the way it should be, at least. It was a confusing, uncomfortable feeling—like you were floating just outside the lines of what you were supposed to feel. You were supposed to be devastated, right? To have that gut-wrenching pain that everyone talks about after a breakup. But instead, all you felt was a strange kind of relief, mixed with guilt, like you had let something slip through your fingers before you could truly understand it.

“You’re making the right choice,” Yeji had told you, her voice gentle, almost knowing. She was always good at reading you, especially when you didn’t know what to say yourself. “It’s not about him, you know. It’s about where you’re at. You’ve changed. You’re not the same girl you were when you started this.”

And she was right. You had changed, slowly but surely. You didn’t need Jiwon to make you feel complete anymore. You were starting to realize that you needed more than just the idea of a relationship. You needed something real, something that stirred you at a deeper level—something that felt like it would last longer than a few fleeting months of puppy love.

Jiwon wasn’t the one who did it for you. And that was okay. It wasn’t his fault. You just weren’t the same person you had been when you first started the relationship. You weren’t the same person you were at the beginning of the year, at fifteen, with all your emotions so easily tangled up in the idea of romance.

As you sat there in your room, phone in hand, the message you sent him still lingering in the drafts—I think we should take a break—you couldn’t help but wonder if you were making a mistake. But then again, you couldn’t keep pretending either.

There was a subtle ache in your chest, but it was the kind of ache you knew would fade. Maybe not now, but eventually. It was a lesson you had to learn, one that had come a little too soon, but one you were glad you were starting to figure out.

At sixteen, you didn’t fully understand what heartache was until the day you got heartbroken, and even then, you pretended like you didn’t know why it hurt. But you did. You always knew, deep down, but you had never admitted it to yourself. That was the day it all came rushing back—the feelings you had tucked away for so long, buried under layers of denial and distraction. They had always been there, quietly creeping inside your heart, only now did you finally recognize them for what they were.

It was a nice day, the kind of summery warmth that hung in the air before school started again, full of the easy, laid-back vibe of the final days of summer. You were out shopping with Jungkook, a typical day in the life of your friendship. He was excited, nervous even, about buying Eunbi a present. Jungkook, your sweet, loyal friend, had the biggest crush on her, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him overthink the smallest details. The way he talked about her, the shy look in his eyes, it was the cutest thing, honestly. Puppy love, you called it with a teasing laugh, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the twinge of something else.

You, being the good best friend, were helping him choose something perfect. Yeji wasn’t with you today—she had to go to a wedding in Seoul, a family relative’s, and she had given Jungkook some advice before leaving. So, there you were, navigating the jewelry stores with him, pointing out earrings, necklaces, and bracelets, trying to find the one that screamed “perfect” for Eunbi.

It was supposed to be a fun day, but then, it happened. Right after Jungkook paid for the gift, his face lighting up with that pleased, nervous smile, you turned and saw something—no, someone.

You saw him.

You saw Hoseok.

See, the thing was, you had seen Hoseok kiss someone before—just once by accident, then again because, well, you were curious. There was that one time when you caught him with a girl at the park, their lips locked in a moment that was more heated than you expected. You remembered feeling something then, something that made your chest ache in a way you didn’t understand. It wasn’t the kiss that bothered you. It was how he was with her, how natural it looked, how right it felt in a way you hadn’t felt about him in a long time.

But that wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was when you realized what you had been denying all along.

Hoseok had grown up. He wasn’t the same playful older brother you used to cling to, the one who made you laugh with his dumb jokes or wrapped you in his warm hugs. That version of him had faded, and you hadn’t even noticed it until now. He was taller, more defined, his features sharper. And it wasn’t just his body that had changed—it was how he carried himself. He was different, and in a way that made him... hot. You hated that word. You had never used it to describe him, but now, it was the only word that fit.

His hair, that messy, wild style he used to wear had evolved into something effortlessly cool. He looked older. He looked... like a man, and suddenly, you were curious. You wanted to know what it would be like to see him as someone who was more than just Yoongi’s best friend, more than just that guy who always teased you. You wanted to know what it would be like to feel that about him.

But standing there, frozen in the doorway of the store, you realized you didn’t just want to know. You already did.

And then, you saw it.

Hoseok was standing there, near his car—his car now, because he was nineteen, he was grown up. The girl beside him was someone you recognized, but you hadn’t paid much attention to her before. She was older, confident, and the way she leaned into him was enough to send a wave of unease through your chest.

You weren’t sure what made you step closer, what made you want to see this so badly, but your feet moved before your brain could catch up. And then, it happened.

Hoseok’s hand slipped under the girl’s skirt, his fingers barely brushing the fabric, sliding upward with a confidence that made your stomach flip in ways you didn’t know were possible. You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t look away.

They weren’t kissing now, not in the way you had seen before. This was... different. More private. More intimate. More inappropriate. His hand, so sure of itself, was moving against her, and the girl’s breath hitched, a soft sound that shouldn’t have been heard by someone standing across the parking lot. You didn’t know how long you stood there, watching, feeling like the world had suddenly gone silent around you. It wasn’t just that you didn’t want to see it—it was that you didn’t want to feel this, didn’t want to feel the ache in your chest, the twisting of your heart as if someone had squeezed it in a vise.

You had known, deep down, that Hoseok wasn’t yours. You had known it in your mind, but your heart... it had been clinging to that hope, to that quiet, secret wish that maybe, just maybe, one day you could be the one who stood next to him like that girl did.

But here you were, watching him with someone else, and everything inside you felt like it was collapsing.

As they pulled away, laughing, Hoseok’s eyes scanned the lot—and for a second, they met yours. His smile faltered just slightly, like he recognized you, but the moment was fleeting.

You quickly turned away, retreating into the store with Jungkook, who was oblivious, still holding his little bag of jewelry for Eunbi. You were glad he didn’t notice the way your hands shook, the way your heart was still racing for reasons you didn’t want to admit.

And as you walked out into the warm summer air, your mind was full of confusion. You had thought you’d moved on from Hoseok. You had told yourself you didn’t feel that way about him anymore. But now, everything felt different. You weren’t sure if it was the kiss, the girl, or something else entirely, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just seen something that would change everything.

The ache in your chest wasn’t going away, not anytime soon.

Hoseok and you acted like nothing had happened. Like the image of him, his hand slipping under another girl’s skirt, hadn’t been burned into your mind. Like you hadn’t seen it, like you hadn’t felt every inch of that uncomfortable, aching feeling in your chest. You went on, pretending nothing was wrong. You saw him, of course, passing by your house just like he always did, his presence familiar, his smile as easy as it had ever been.

But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t.

Sometimes, he’d stop by to chat with your parents, always charming them with his usual warmth, always the one who knew how to make everyone feel comfortable. And sometimes, he’d linger just a little longer, waiting for you to walk through the door or step out into the yard, as if you were still the girl who had his attention without question, as if you were still the one he came to see.

"Star who shines the brightest," he’d call out, that playful nickname he used to tease you with, his voice light, but underneath, there was an unspoken layer of familiarity. You hadn’t heard it in so long, hadn’t felt it in the way it used to make you smile. You would freeze at the sound of it, that little pang of nostalgia hitting you before you could brush it off.

“Hey, Hoseok,” you’d reply, trying to sound casual, trying to pretend like the knot in your stomach wasn’t there. “I’m sure whatever it is, I can help you with it.” You said it like you meant it, like it was all just another normal day, but the words felt hollow in your mouth. It wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same.

He’d smile that easy, wide smile, the one that always made you feel like everything was going to be okay, the one that used to fill the spaces between your heartbeats. "I’m sure you can," he’d say, but there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. Something that lingered in the air between you two—an unspoken tension, a shift, a feeling that neither of you were willing to acknowledge, but that was there nonetheless.

You couldn’t look at him the same way anymore. Not after that day. Not after seeing him with her. Not after you had realized that all these years, you’d been in love with him without even knowing it. How could you face him and pretend everything was fine when you were carrying this heavy ache inside? How could you laugh at his stupid jokes and pretend you weren’t desperately trying to keep your distance, to stop the feelings that you had hidden for so long from bubbling to the surface?

But you didn’t know how to stop pretending. How to stop being the girl who had always been by his side, the one who had grown up with him, who had been his little sister in every sense of the word. You didn’t know how to say what you were really feeling because it was messy, and it hurt too much. And maybe, just maybe, you were still afraid of what would happen if you said it out loud.

So, you went on like nothing had changed, like it didn’t eat you up inside every time he said your name. Every time he smiled at you, so casually, so easily. You pretended, because you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, even if the person you were pretending to be wasn’t the real you anymore.

And Hoseok? He acted like nothing had happened, too. Maybe he didn’t know what to do either. Or maybe he knew and just didn’t want to face it. He’d still show up, still ask for your help with the dumbest things—little things, like helping him with some paperwork or giving him advice on something small. But it always felt like it was more than that. It felt like he was searching for an excuse to be near you, to hold on to that familiarity. Maybe he wasn’t ready to admit that something had shifted between you, either.

But you were the one who felt it. The weight of it. The aching, quiet realization that you couldn’t stay the same. That things had changed, but you couldn’t stop pretending that they hadn’t.

You had to live with it. Live with the feeling of wanting him so much it hurt, and the knowledge that he was with someone else, that he was out there, living his life without even realizing how deeply you were still affected by him. You had to live with the silence that followed him every time he left, that feeling of emptiness that lingered long after he was gone. The feeling that no matter how many times he smiled at you, you’d never be able to go back to the way things used to be.

You couldn’t go back to being the girl who didn’t know how much you needed him, how much you loved him, until it was too late.

Later that year, after playing this endless tug-of-war with Hoseok, pretending that nothing had changed—pretending that you hadn’t seen him with that girl, pretending that the weight in your chest wasn’t there—you finally felt a little bit of freedom. Freedom in the most unexpected of places.

It was the night of Hoseok’s graduation, and the air felt magical, like something out of a dream. The stars hung low in the sky, not too cold, not too warm—just the perfect night. Perfect for him. Perfect for the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. He was leaving Gwangju, heading to Seoul, and you knew this time, it wasn’t just about the transition from high school to university. This was a bigger shift, one that meant he was starting to move away from everything familiar, from everyone who had always known him as the guy who could light up any room.

You tried not to think about how you couldn’t remember the last time you had looked at him without feeling that quiet ache. How it used to be so easy, how everything about your relationship had been so comfortable until suddenly, it wasn’t. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? This ache had always been there, creeping in the shadows, just waiting for the right moment to show itself. You had tried to ignore it, tried to pretend it wasn’t real, but tonight—it was too much to hide anymore.

“Never thought you’d be good at math,” you joked, trying to sound light, to ease the tension that had settled between you.

“Neither did I,” he murmured, his eyes momentarily drifting away from you. He was always so good at pretending nothing was wrong, so good at hiding what was really going on behind his smile. And yet, you could see it in the way his shoulders had squared, in the little lines that formed between his brows. It wasn’t all just about the graduation for him, either.

“Shouldn’t you be happy?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. It wasn’t the question you had meant to ask. But it was the one that slipped out. Because you couldn’t ignore it anymore—the way his eyes never quite met yours, the way his smile seemed forced tonight.

“I am,” he said, but his words were laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “I’m happy. I wanted something practical, something I can do for the long term. I’ll be teaching dance on the weekends, but I’ve got my degree to fall back on.”

You laughed, a small sound that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You’ve always had a plan, haven’t you?”

He smiled that crooked, easy smile. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

You nodded, but inside, it all felt so much heavier than you expected. You had been expecting this—his quiet confidence, his carefully constructed path, the way he could make everything sound so easy. But you couldn’t help feeling like he was already slipping away. And in a way, you had been preparing yourself for this moment, even if you didn’t know how to let go.

The thing is, you had loved him long before this night. Long before any of this became complicated. You realized that now. The feeling that had been there for so long, the one you had buried deep down—only now, it wasn’t something you could deny. It wasn’t something you could push away anymore. You had loved him for so long that it had become a part of you, woven into the very fabric of who you were. And when you finally accepted that, it was like a heavy curtain had been pulled back, and you saw him clearly for the first time. And that scared you. Because it wasn’t just the boy you had grown up with anymore.

This was Hoseok, the one who had always been there, and now, the one who was leaving.

And yet, tonight—tonight was a new beginning, wasn’t it? He had invited you. Specifically. He had wanted you there. Even now, as he was on the cusp of leaving everything behind to start something new, he had reached out to you. It felt like the perfect chance to close the gap between you two, to break down the walls that had been building over the past months.

He wasn’t just someone you had known for years anymore. He was someone you cared about deeply, someone you had wanted to be close to for so long, even when it hurt. And now, you weren’t sure where this moment would lead.

“Star,” he said suddenly, and your heart skipped at the familiar nickname. “I’m glad you came. I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed tonight as much without you here.”

The ache in your chest deepened. The old, familiar feeling of being the one who belonged to him—the one who had always been his “Star”—seemed to echo in his voice. But there was something more, something heavier in it now. And you didn’t know if it was because he was leaving or because you were finally facing the truth.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you said softly, your voice trembling just slightly, even though you tried to hide it. “You know I’ll always be here for you, right?”

He smiled, his eyes softening for a moment, just the smallest crack in his facade. “I know, Star. You’ve always been here for me.”

And for a moment, you just stood there, the silence between you heavy, but warm. You were both standing on the edge of something, not quite sure what was next. But you knew that even though he was leaving, there was no way you could forget how much you had cared for him. No matter how hard you tried to push it down, no matter how hard you tried to pretend, he had always been there. Always.

And maybe, just maybe, tonight—this night, the perfect night with the stars shining down on you both—was a way for you to let go of the past and finally take that first step toward whatever was coming next.

At seventeen, life felt like it was finally yours. For the first time, you were truly free, unencumbered by the shadow of your older brother or the weight of expectations. Yoongi wasn’t around already, neither was Hoseok, no more pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't. The world suddenly seemed vast, and you were ready to chase it on your own terms.

Yeji and Jungkook were still your crew, always your foundation, but along the way, you had adopted Jimin and Taehyung into your world. It felt natural, like they’d always been a part of the group, like they just fit. And they were the ones who pulled you into a world you hadn’t quite been ready for but somehow felt like you were meant to step into. The world of parties, the world of carefree fun, the world of no boundaries, of dancing until your legs ached and laughing until you forgot how to stop.

Jimin and Taehyung were the life of every party, always at the center of things, pulling everyone into their orbit. And that night, they had invited you. Your first real party. You had never felt so alive—so free.

It was a Friday, and you had already asked your parents for permission. It wasn’t even about convincing them; they knew you were growing up. They trusted you. Your mom reminded you to call at 1 a.m. if you needed a ride, but that was it. They gave you a little money for a cab, just in case. And then, they let you go. It wasn’t the first time you’d gone out, but it felt different—like you were finally stepping into a new chapter of your life, a life that wasn’t so tightly monitored, a life where you were free to make your own decisions.

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived. Music thumped through the walls, and the warm summer night air wrapped around you like a blanket. The smell of alcohol, sweat, and perfume filled the air, but you didn’t mind. You were here. You were finally here, in this world that felt so different, but so right. Yeji was already there, her laughter carrying across the room as she caught sight of you. And then Jungkook, who always seemed to know just what you needed—an easy smile, a warm greeting, a constant source of comfort.

And then, of course, Jimin and Taehyung. They were already in the middle of things, as always, pulling you into their circle, making you feel like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. But the night had barely started when the shots began. Taehyung had the mischievous glint in his eyes that told you this was about to get out of hand. “Come on, it’s one shot,” he had said, grinning. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

You had laughed it off. Just one shot, you told yourself. But somehow, it never stopped at one.

By the time you had lost track of how many shots you’d had, the world felt like it was spinning in the most wonderful way. The music was louder, the people around you felt closer, and your laughter was genuine, unburdened. You felt light, like you could float away.

That was when the words spilled out, uninvited, like a confession you had been keeping for far too long. You didn’t even think about it. You were just there, surrounded by your closest friends, and somehow, it all just came out.

“I think... I think I’m still looking for someone else,” you said, your voice slurring just a little, but there was truth in it that couldn’t be ignored. “I keep meeting people, and they’re nice, and they’re... good. But it’s just not enough. I keep looking for him.”

They all stopped, eyes on you for a moment. You didn’t even need to say his name. They all knew. They had always known. Everyone had always known who him was. Who Hoseok was.

Jimin raised an eyebrow, his usual playful smirk fading for just a moment, replaced with something softer. “You’ve always been obsessed with him, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice teasing but warm.

You looked at them—Jimin, Taehyung, Yeji, Jungkook—and realized how much they understood. How much they cared for you, how they could read you without you even saying a word. They had all seen it: the way you carried Hoseok’s memory with you, the way you tried to ignore it, push it away, but always came back to it. Always came back to him.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, almost ashamed of how much you had let it affect you. “I didn’t mean to. But I think I always have.”

The group went silent for a moment, each of them processing your confession in their own way. But then Taehyung, ever the one to bring the mood back to light, clapped his hands and grinned. “Well, now we know,” he said, raising his cup in a mock toast. “The mystery is solved. You’re still in love with Hoseok. And you’re not fooling anyone.”

You laughed, but it was bittersweet. Because the truth of it settled in your chest. It had always been Hoseok. All those feelings you tried to bury, all that distance you had created between yourself and the truth—it was never going to go away. No matter how many parties you went to, no matter how many people you met, you were always looking for him.

The night continued, but it felt like it had changed. You were still with your friends, still laughing, still part of the group. But in the quiet moments, you couldn’t shake the truth that had just spilled from your lips. Hoseok had always been there, lurking in the background, and now—now that you had confessed it out loud—you weren’t sure what to do with it.

You needed to move on, to let go, to forget—but you couldn’t. Not when he was still the one you kept looking for in everyone else.

And as the night went on, you realized something: You couldn’t hide from your feelings anymore. You couldn’t bury them deep enough that they wouldn’t come back up. He wasn’t coming back either. And at seventeen he wasn’t going to take you seriously. At seventeen, him being twenty, nothing was going to happen. It ached, but it was okay too. He had no fault in this.

At nineteen, you were finally graduating. It was a mix of excitement and relief. The years leading up to this moment had blurred together—endless laughs with your group: Yeji, Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung. They’d always been there, constant in their own ways. Yoongi still dropped by whenever he could, despite his busy schedule at med school, but he wasn’t home much these days. Hoseok? You saw him only when Yoongi was around. He and Yoongi were at the same university in Seoul, but despite both being on the same campus, their paths didn’t cross too often.

It was exactly one week before graduation.

And today? Hoseok had come over on his own. Yoongi had left with Sunhee—his first girlfriend to officially meet your family—and it was just you at home with Yeji.

You were in the middle of an easy conversation with Yeji when Hoseok arrived. The door creaked open, and there he was, standing in the doorway, a bottle of soju in hand, a sheepish smile on his face. He was tipsy but not out of control. —just enough to give him that carefree energy, a hint of something else in his eyes. Still weird though. What was he doing here anyway?

“Hey, Star,” Hoseok greeted you, his voice warm but quiet. You hadn't heard him call you that in a while. It hit you more than you expected.

“Hey, what’s up?” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual, though a part of you couldn’t help but feel that old familiarity and something else—a pull that felt like comfort mixed with something a little more complicated.

“I need your help with something,” he said, grinning like he was trying to hide his real reason for coming over. His eyes flicked to Yeji, who was standing near the couch, clearly trying to figure out what to make of his presence.

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow, teasing him. “I’m sure it’s something more than just that.”

Before Hoseok could answer, Yeji, sensing the shift, stood up. “I’m gonna head out for a bit, y’know, errands and stuff,” she said, clearly making her exit. You could tell she was giving you and Hoseok some space—she always did, when it felt like it was time. “Don’t stay up too late, alright?” she added with a smile, disappearing out the door.

And just like that, you and Hoseok were alone.

The silence between you two hung in the air, thick and palpable. Hoseok took a few steps closer, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something. But instead, he just stood there, holding the bottle loosely in his hand.

“I didn’t expect to see you today,” you said, almost as a way to break the silence, but the words felt hollow the moment they left your mouth. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him before, but right now, things felt different—off. Maybe it was because you hadn’t spent time with him alone in so long. Maybe it was just the way everything was changing, slowly, but undeniably.

Hoseok’s gaze softened for a moment, a flash of something you couldn’t quite place. He shrugged and took a step closer to the couch. “Yeah, I know. I don’t know why I came, really... just felt like I needed to be around something... familiar. I guess,” he said, his voice trailing off like he was still trying to make sense of his own words.

Familiar. You. The word settled in the pit of your stomach.

“I get it,” you said quietly, your heart a little heavier than you expected. There was a quiet ache, but you weren’t sure where it came from. Hoseok had always been there. In your life, in your space, your family. And yet, something had shifted. Not just with him, but with you, too.

He let out a small laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I mean... I guess things have been weird lately. I don’t know how to explain it.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I guess, I don’t want to feel like everything’s changing. I don’t know... does that make sense?”

You nodded, even though it kind of didn’t. “It does,” you said, but your voice sounded distant, even to your own ears.

Hoseok looked at you for a long moment, his gaze lingering, almost searching, but also filled with a kind of exhaustion you hadn’t noticed before. It was the same exhaustion you saw in Yoongi sometimes when he came back from school, looking like he was carrying more than he could handle.

You didn’t know what else to say.

But the air between you two felt thick, not with the ease of how it used to be, but with the strange tension of something—maybe old memories, maybe feelings that didn’t have names yet. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was familiar, and you both clung to that. Even though you didn’t know where this feeling was coming from, you both knew it was there, hanging in the room, unspoken and heavy.

Finally, Hoseok took a deep breath, like he was ready to change the subject, but before he could speak, you heard the soft sound of Yeji’s car pulling out of the driveway, her engine fading in the distance.

Hoseok stood up, walking to the window as if he didn’t want to break the silence too quickly. “I should probably go,” he said, his voice softer now, more like he was saying it to himself than to you.

You didn’t want him to go, not really. But you didn’t know how to stop him, or if you should.

“Yeah, maybe,” you said, standing up and walking over to where he stood by the window. Your heart was pounding, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the ache or from the weirdness of being so close yet so distant. “I’ll see you later, alright?”

He turned to look at you, his expression still unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something that made you want to reach out, but you didn’t. He nodded slowly, giving you a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Later, Star.”

And with that, he left, leaving you standing by the window, still feeling that strange mix of comfort, hope, and confusion, unsure of what was happening or what would come next.

Graduation day arrived in a burst of light, and you had never felt more alive. The air was crisp, carrying the buzz of excitement, and everything seemed perfect. Yeji was by your side, her fingers expertly applying makeup as you both laughed at the absurdity of trying to look perfect for a day that would soon be over. You helped her with her makeup, too, and despite the nerves, there was warmth in the moment. It felt like all the years of hard work were finally culminating in this one day, and you were here—alive, surrounded by your closest friends and family.

Yoongi made sure to make a scene when they called your name. His proud grin was unmistakable, and your dad, smiling broadly, stood next to your mom, both of them cheering you on like they always had. It was the kind of moment that felt timeless, as if you could hold onto the warmth of their pride forever.

But then... there was Hoseok.

Hoseok, standing on the other side of the ceremony hall, his voice almost booming as he yelled, "I knew my Star would make it big!" The words were loud, filled with genuine joy, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. His happiness was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile, even though the warmth of his voice didn’t quite reach your chest in the same way it used to.

The moment passed quickly, but that smile stayed on your face as you took the family picture, standing between Yoongi and your parents. They all stood so close, like a unit, and as Yoongi whispered in your ear, his voice quiet but full of emotion, “I’m proud of you,” you felt the lump in your throat. This was it—the moment you had been working towards.

But when you looked around, something felt off.

The crowd began to disperse, the noise around you dying down, and you caught sight of Hoseok lingering near the side. His smile had softened, but there was a strange distance in his eyes, something you hadn’t noticed before. It was subtle—just a flicker, but you could see it. His usual brightness was muted, replaced with something heavier. His gaze wasn’t focused on anyone in particular, but on something in the distance, like he was lost in thought.

You excused yourself from your family and made your way toward him. The moment felt inevitable. You had to speak to him—had to acknowledge the strange tension between you two that had been growing ever since the night of your graduation. It wasn’t anything overt, but it lingered.

“Hey,” you said, your voice tentative as you approached him. “I didn’t know you’d be this quiet today. You’re always so loud.”

Hoseok glanced at you, his lips pulling into a small, tight smile. “Yeah, well, things are different now, aren’t they?” His voice was light, but there was something in his eyes that didn’t match the tone.

“Different how?” You pressed, your curiosity edging out the cautious distance you felt between you.

He shifted his weight, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looked away again, almost like he was searching for something in the crowd. “I don’t know.” There was a hesitation in his voice, a hint of something that didn’t belong. “Just... feels like the end of one thing, you know?”

You frowned slightly, your chest tightening. “Yeah... I get that,” you said quietly, suddenly unsure of where the conversation was going. “But it’s not really the end, right? We’ll see each other more.”

His eyes flickered back to you, but they weren’t as bright as they used to be. There was a sadness in them, subtle yet unmistakable. “Yeah, but...” His voice trailed off, and for a moment, it seemed like he didn’t know how to finish the thought. “You know, I’ve always been here. But I feel like we’re all heading in different directions now, and I guess it’s just... hard to tell what’s next.”

Your stomach twisted as you processed his words. There was an ache in his voice, a rawness that you hadn’t expected. Hoseok was always the one who seemed certain of everything—the one who could brighten any room with his presence. And yet now, he sounded uncertain, hesitant, like he wasn’t quite sure where he fit anymore.

You swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the growing distance between the two of you. “I thought things would feel... different,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But now I’m not so sure.”

He finally looked at you, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like he was seeing you in a way he hadn’t in a long time—like he wanted to say something, but the words were stuck. The sadness in his eyes deepened, but he masked it with a quick flash of a smile. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I get that. I think we’re all figuring things out, in our own way.”

There was something unsaid between you, something that neither of you wanted to face, but the silence spoke louder than anything else. Hoseok wasn’t just any friend anymore—he wasn’t the boy who used to be part of your world in such a seamless way. And somehow, that truth hurt more than anything.

“I’ll always be here, you know that, right?” Hoseok said after a long pause, his voice sincere, but with an edge of something unspoken. “But maybe... maybe things are just changing, and we have to let them.”

You nodded, though the ache in your chest was heavier than ever. “Yeah. I think I’m starting to understand that.”

Hoseok gave you one last lingering look, his eyes softening as he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “I’m proud of you, Star. You’ve got a bright future ahead.”

And with that, he turned, slipping back into the crowd, leaving you standing there, with a heart full of confusion and a lingering sense of longing that you couldn’t explain. You had always known Hoseok, but suddenly, it felt like you didn’t know him at all.

You shocked your parents—and honestly, everyone—when you told them you wouldn’t be going to university in Seoul. Yonsei University had accepted you, and that should have been the dream. It was everything you’d worked for, everything you thought you wanted. But somehow, something didn’t feel right. The more you thought about it, the more the doubt started creeping in. Something about it felt... wrong.

You had always been the person who sought out logic, who found comfort in planning, in structure. Marketing made sense. It was creative but stable, a perfect balance of ambition and practicality. You could see yourself working in that field, building a career, maybe even making something of it. But every time you imagined yourself walking through Yonsei’s gates, something deep inside you twisted. It wasn’t fear, exactly—just a sense of being trapped. A nagging feeling that if you stayed in Seoul, you’d be stuck.

Was it fear of being tied down to a place that wasn’t really yours? Or was it fear of growing into a life you hadn’t chosen for yourself?

You had always done what was expected of you. Your family’s pride was always there, lingering, and you couldn’t shake the idea of disappointing them. But in the quiet of your thoughts, a voice kept telling you it wasn’t enough—this life wasn’t enough. You weren’t meant to be confined to one place, to live the same life your parents had lived. You wanted more.

It wasn’t an easy decision. It wasn’t something you made lightly. You felt a pull toward something different, something far away from the expectations that had been sewn into you from a young age. So you did what you had always done when faced with uncertainty: you pushed forward, took the leap. You applied for scholarships, even though you knew it was a last-minute decision. The kind of decision that could either change everything or fall apart completely.

When the letter from New York University arrived, everything felt surreal. You’d made it. But in the quiet after the excitement, there was this strange mix of relief and confusion. Why didn’t this feel like the victory you thought it would?

Marketing. The major was still there, and it made sense. But now, tucked in the margins of your future was something no one knew about—something for you. A minor in creative writing. It was a part of you that no one expected, not even you at first. You had always been a quiet dreamer, someone who got lost in words but never really let anyone see that part of you.

As you sat there, staring at the acceptance letter, the weight of it all settled in. You could finally take control of your future. But it didn’t come without a price. You’d be far from home, far from the people who had always been there—Yoongi, your family, your old friends.

Was it selfish to choose yourself now? Was it selfish to want something more than what was expected?

But in the end, you didn’t care. You knew this was the right path for you. It didn’t matter that it was scary or uncertain—it felt like freedom. A chance to break away from the life everyone thought you should have and create one that was all your own. But it also felt like a goodbye, like you were walking away from a part of yourself you weren’t sure you were ready to leave behind.

It was bittersweet. It felt like stepping into the unknown, like taking a leap off the edge of a cliff and hoping there was something—anything—to catch you. You didn’t know what your future would look like, but for the first time in a long time, it felt like you were going to be the one to define it. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Yoongi was still your rock, even if things felt different now. The distance between you two, now that you were in another country, had stretched the connection in ways you didn’t quite expect. Sure, you had more conversations than when you lived under the same roof, but they were always brief and less meaningful. Med school had swallowed Yoongi whole, his residency demanding so much of his time and energy. Still, he always found a moment to check in. It was like a habit now—quick messages, updates on his day, sometimes more about his exhaustion than anything else.

“Residency’s kicking my ass, but I’m surviving,” he’d text. You could tell he was tired, not just from the demands of his profession but from the weight of the years he’d put into his studies. Yet, amidst the chaos, there was something that still kept him grounded. He’d mention how music, in the form of an old music set up he found in a second-hand store had become his salvation. It had become an unexpected escape for him.

As for Hoseok, things had changed too. It wasn’t that you and Hoseok didn’t care about each other—it was just that the busy lives you both led had naturally created more distance. Hoseok, now in business school, was submerged in the grind of classes, networking, and all the pressures of pursuing a future that had little to do with dance these days. You were glad he didn’t abandon dance completely though. The spontaneous texts, the late-night talks—all of that had faded away. It wasn’t intentional, just life pulling you both in different directions.

Yoongi would bring him up from time to time “Hoseok’s still in business school, right? He doesn’t have much time to hang out anymore.” It wasn’t a judgment, just a statement of fact. But then Yoongi would chuckle, and you could hear the amusement in his voice when he’d mention Hoseok’s latest endeavor. “He actually joined a street dance crew recently. I think he needed something to balance out the stress. You know how he is.”

But even with all of this change, you knew Yoongi and Hoseok still made time for each other. It wasn’t often, but sometimes, after a long week of med school or business school, they’d find a moment to grab coffee or hang out. It was rare—sometimes it was just a few hours, sometimes it was a quiet evening catching up. But you could feel, even from afar, that those moments meant something. They were still holding on to what they had, even if it was different now. Even when with you it was different. It was bound to happen you guess.

It was sometime during your second semester of Marketing when you met Daniel. Daniel—your first everything, really. Well, everything except for a kiss. You weren't quite sure what you had expected love to feel like when it finally arrived, but with Daniel, it wasn’t the way the movies had promised. There were no fireworks exploding in your chest, no immediate breathlessness. Instead, it felt... right. For the first time in a long time, your heart didn’t ache for someone you couldn't have. It didn’t hurt at all. It just settled, quietly, almost shyly, into something that felt warm and safe.

You remember how desperate you were to tell someone about him. Yeji and Jungkook were the first to hear, of course—dragged into a half-asleep conversation at three in the morning because you couldn't keep it to yourself. You whispered about him through your phone, clutching your pillow, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. Jimin and Taehyung hadn’t been there for the call, but they heard about Daniel soon after, when you couldn’t resist gushing in your group chat. There’s someone, you had typed with trembling fingers. And I think he’s...different.

Your friends were supportive, naturally. They urged you to give it a shot, to open your heart a little. So you did. Hesitantly at first, like stepping into a pool and letting the water slowly rise up around your ankles.

Daniel was sweet—almost painfully so. He held doors open without thinking about it. He remembered the little things, like how you preferred hot chocolate over coffee, or how you always carried a book in your bag even if you knew you wouldn’t have time to read it. He listened—really listened—to your dreams, your fears, your stupid little stories from when you were a kid. He made you laugh, made you feel seen.

Your first date was cute in the way first dates should be. Nervous smiles, accidental brushes of hands, endless conversations about everything and nothing. You wore your favorite sweater, the one you always wore when you needed a little extra courage. You didn’t kiss him that night. You both wanted to, you could feel it, but somehow it felt more important to savor it, to not rush. To let it mean something.

The second date felt like an extension of the first—effortless, bright. He took you to a bookstore downtown and then for ice cream, and you thought, Maybe this is what it’s supposed to be like. You liked the way he looked at you, like you were some sort of wonder he couldn't believe was real.

And by the time three months had passed—after countless late-night texts, studying together until you fell asleep on FaceTime, clumsy jokes and shy confessions—you were officially dating.

You didn’t know it then, but this was your coming-of-age in motion. You were living it, one soft, uncertain step at a time. You were discovering how thrilling and terrifying it was to be vulnerable with someone, how it meant giving them all the parts of you you usually kept tucked away. There were nights when insecurity gnawed at you, when you wondered if you were saying the right things, doing the right things, being enough. But there were also nights when you felt braver than you ever had—when you realized that maybe growing up wasn't about erasing the fear, but learning to move through it anyway.

Daniel didn’t erase your insecurities. But he stayed. He held your hand through them. He was gentle with you, and in turn, you learned to be gentle with yourself.

It was imperfect. It was real. It was yours.

He was your first.

It was strange, in a way you hadn’t expected. Not bad—just unfamiliar, like stepping into a space you had only seen through windows your whole life. You tried to prepare yourself. You asked your friends at university about it, half-whispered questions between classes or after late-night study sessions, trying to piece together what it was supposed to feel like. You texted Yeji one night, fingers hovering over your phone before finally hitting send: "Is it normal to feel nervous even if you really like someone?" She replied almost immediately. "Of course. Just make sure you’re doing it because you want to, not because you feel like you have to. Trust yourself."

You trusted yourself. You were sure. You liked Daniel—you really liked him. He was sweet, patient, and never once made you feel rushed. He always waited for you to meet him halfway. If anything, you felt lucky to be figuring it out with someone like him.

Still, when the moment finally came, everything felt...awkward. Not wrong, just clumsy, new. You fumbled with your own nerves, overthinking every little thing—the way your hand should move, whether you were supposed to say something, how you were supposed to breathe. Daniel noticed, of course. He noticed everything. But instead of making it worse, he laughed softly and kissed your forehead, whispering something like, "It's just me. No pressure." And somehow, that made you exhale. That made you brave enough to keep going.

The experience wasn’t perfect. It was a little bit messy and a little bit shy, full of quiet giggles and whispered apologies when you bumped into each other awkwardly. But that was part of it, wasn't it? It was supposed to be a little messy. It was your first time learning someone else's body, learning how to be open and vulnerable in a way you had only ever imagined before.

Later that night, lying next to him with your heart still pounding from both adrenaline and tenderness, you texted Yeji again: "It felt weird but...good. Like...like it mattered." And she sent back a long line of hearts and a simple, "It should matter."

You realized then that growing up didn’t mean shedding the nerves or the awkwardness—it meant embracing them, allowing yourself to be imperfect and afraid and still moving forward anyway.

Daniel made it easier. He kissed the top of your head when you overthought. He held your hand when your mind raced ahead of your body. He was gentle with you in every way a person could be gentle, and you knew—even with the doubts, the clumsy moments—you were safe here. You were seen.

It wasn’t a grand, cinematic first. It didn’t look like the movies. It looked like two people trying. Two people caring. And maybe that was even better.

Your friends came to the US, and for a little while, everything felt perfect again.

It was supposed to be a vacation, a treat for surviving your first exhausting semesters abroad—but in so many ways, it felt like reality hitting, too. You were all growing up, you realized. No longer just kids hanging around the same streets, no longer seeing each other every day without trying. You were still tied together, still orbiting around each other's lives, but now there were new paths carving distances between you.

Jimin was specializing in dance at Korea University, pouring every bit of passion into perfecting his craft. Taehyung had decided he wanted to build something of his own, diving headfirst into Business at Yonsei University with a confidence only he could carry. Yeji—steady, kind, wise Yeji—had always known how to listen, how to see people, so it made perfect sense that she found her way into Psychology, also at Yonsei. And then there was Jungkook. Dreamy, sweet, endlessly respectful Jungkook who had once seemed like he could be anything and still somehow managed to surprise you by choosing the uncertain path: photography. He wanted to create things that made people feel, and for the first time, he was serious about it. Really serious.

They all had their own lives now. Their own dreams, their own schedules. And yet—they still chose to come see you. They saved up. They planned it months in advance. Because you weren’t going back home that winter.

The storm had ruined everything. Flights canceled, alarms going crazy, streets flooded and closed. You got your money back, sure, but it didn’t fix the hollow ache that came with realizing you wouldn’t be home for the holidays. You missed your parents. You missed your brother. You missed the warmth of Seoul, the comfort of streets you knew by heart. You missed your friends. You missed Hoseok.

You hadn’t even realized how much until you saw them at the airport, standing there with wide grins and sleepy eyes, dragging their suitcases behind them like lost kids finally found again. You ran to them without thinking, laughter bubbling out of you so fast it almost hurt. They pulled you into a messy, loud group hug, everyone talking at once, the smell of airport coffee and the sound of Yeji’s familiar giggle making your chest squeeze in the most beautiful, painful way.

It felt like nothing had changed. It felt like everything had changed.

The week they stayed was a blur of late-night talks, messy takeout dinners, walking around the city pretending you weren't all a little bit lost. You caught up on everything—Jimin’s dance competitions, Taehyung’s wild business ideas, Yeji’s long, quiet talks about the things people carry inside without ever saying them out loud. Jungkook showed you photos he hadn't shared with anyone else, images that looked a little like homesickness and a little like hope.

Somewhere in between the laughter and the stories, you introduced them to Daniel. It felt big, in a way. Daniel—sweet, kind Daniel who had quietly carved a space in your life over the past few months. The first person who made your heart feel less like an open wound and more like something steady and alive again.

They were curious, naturally. Protective, in the way old friends always are when they meet someone new in your world. But Daniel was... well, Daniel. Gentle, funny, endlessly patient with your friends’ teasing and Jungkook’s wide, curious eyes.

It was surreal to watch your old world meet your new one, to see them laugh together, to realize that somehow, you were weaving all these separate pieces of yourself into something that still made sense. Something that still felt like home.

When they left, you cried. Quietly, after they boarded the plane, tucked away in a corner of the airport where no one could see you. Not because you were sad, exactly. But because you had been reminded—so vividly, so achingly—that even across oceans and time zones, even as life pulled you all in different directions, some things were too deeply rooted to ever really be lost.

You had people worth missing.

Time moved faster than you ever thought it would. One minute you were adjusting to your first year in a foreign country, clinging to calls from home and late-night talks with your friends, and the next—you were standing on the edge of something new, about to graduate.

Somewhere between the lectures and late submissions, you’d found an internship at a mid-sized IT company. It wasn’t exactly where you pictured yourself when you first applied to University, but it taught you things you didn’t know you needed: how to hold your own in meetings, how to send a proper follow-up email, how to find small corners of pride in the work you did, even if no one else noticed it. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours. And for a while, that was enough.

Your parents had visited you throughout the four years you spent abroad—sometimes once a year, sometimes less if things at home got too busy. You made it back to Korea too, but only for the holidays. Sometimes for Chuseok, sometimes for Christmas. Always a week at most, a blink and you were gone again. There were years you saw Yoongi in those short trips, catching him between his packed shifts at the hospital, and there were years you missed him entirely, your schedules never quite aligning the way they used to. As for Hoseok—you hadn’t seen him properly in a long time. You heard about him through Yoongi mostly: how he got a corporate job, how he’d somewhat still found time to dance, chasing that old part of himself he couldn’t bear to leave behind. It was strange, the way time stretched between you and the people you once thought you'd never drift from. But you supposed that was just another part of growing up too.

Things with Daniel changed, as things sometimes do. You spent nearly two years together—growing, learning, falling in and out of rhythm. He met your parents during one of their visits to the U.S., and later, you introduced him to Yoongi too, when you finally managed a trip back home that lasted more than a handful of rushed days. Even Hoseok had been there that time, crashing a casual dinner you hadn’t planned on becoming so emotional. It had been... sweet, in a way. A small blending of past and present. You could still remember the way Daniel smiled nervously, how Hoseok had clapped him on the shoulder and said something that made your mother laugh until she was wiping tears from her eyes. For a little while, it felt like everything fit.

But life, as it tends to do, kept moving. Slowly at first, then faster. You both knew it was ending before either of you could say it out loud. He had plans that would take him across the country; you had dreams that hadn’t fully found their shape yet. The breakup wasn’t dramatic or messy—it was mutual, full of quiet sadness and lingering kindness. The kind of ending that didn’t leave you bitter, only a little older, a little wiser, a little more aware that love, no matter how good, sometimes simply isn’t enough to anchor two people in the same place.

By the time your graduation day arrived, it felt like everything had come full circle. Your parents flew in, proud and beaming, holding signs that embarrassed you more than you'd ever admit. You stood there in your cap and gown, diploma in hand, watching the last four years stretch out behind you like a film reel. There were so many things you still didn’t know. But standing there, blinking against the sun and the weight of it all, you realized maybe that was okay.

You had made it.

You hadn’t planned on coming back to Seoul right after graduation.

The original idea — the one you clung to through endless library nights and lonely winters — was to stay in the U.S. a little longer. Find a job. Maybe move to New York or Boston, chase the skyline, lose yourself in the noise. You had dreamed of it for so long it almost felt real. A life crackling with endless, towering possibilities.

But sometimes, life quietly rearranged your plans without asking first.

It was Yoongi who made the choice easier — or maybe just a little less terrifying. He was already a doctor by then, deep into the grind of hospital shifts that stretched until morning, his voice always a little rough around the edges when he called. But he still called. Somehow, despite the impossible hours and the exhaustion you could hear even through the static, he made time.

"You can figure things out here," he said simply. "You don’t have to do it alone."

And somehow, those few words — casual, tossed out like no big deal — cracked something open inside you.

Your parents had been supportive, too. Telling you there was always a place for you back home, a kitchen table with your seat still waiting. A life you could step back into if you wanted.

You thought about it. Really thought about it. About coming back to your childhood home, about building something steady and safe. About giving up the version of yourself you had fought so hard to create on your own.

But the truth was — you didn’t fit there anymore. Not in that version of yourself. Not in that house where the walls still remembered who you used to be.

And Seoul — restless, ruthless, electric Seoul — felt closer to who you were now. Or who you wanted to be, even if you didn’t quite know her yet.

So you said yes.

Landing back home was surreal. The airport smelled like coffee and humidity, like childhood and heartbreak all at once.

Your parents were there, waiting with open arms and bright, shining smiles that made your chest ache. Yoongi too — a little thinner, a little sharper, his white coat slung carelessly over his shoulder. He had carved two whole hours out of a packed schedule to have lunch with you all.

The food was delicious. The conversation was easy. For a little while, it felt like slipping on a favorite hoodie — familiar, broken-in, safe. Your brother teased you over side dishes. Your mother asked if you were eating enough vegetables. Your father told bad jokes that still somehow made you laugh.

It was perfect. Maybe too perfect.

Because later — after the plates were cleared and the hugs exchanged — you found yourself alone in Yoongi’s apartment. The afternoon light slipped in through the windows in muted gold streaks. Your suitcase sat half-unpacked by the door. Your phone buzzed weakly with half-hearted texts from your U.S. friends.

And you sat there, cross-legged on a couch that wasn’t yours, in a city that should have felt like home, with a degree tucked safely into your bag — proof that you had done it. You had finished what you set out to do.

You should have felt proud. You should have felt invincible.

Instead, you just felt... small. Small, and out of place, and a little bit scared.

Because no one told you how hollow it would feel to come back a different person — to find the same streets, the same shops, the same skyline — and realize you didn’t know how to fit yourself into it anymore.

No one told you that success could taste so much like loneliness.

You curled your arms around your knees, your forehead resting against them, feeling the old, familiar ache building quietly behind your ribs.

What if you weren’t enough here? What if you had changed too much — or not enough? What if all the growth you fought for overseas wasn't visible to anyone but yourself?

You stared at the muted blue of the carpet, your chest tight, your breath shallow.

Everyone kept telling you you were doing great. Everyone kept smiling like you had already won.

But they didn’t see the way your hands trembled sometimes when you opened a job application. They didn’t see the doubt gnawing at the back of your mind, whispering that maybe you weren’t as capable, as brilliant, as brave as you had tried so hard to seem.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push the noise away.

You were home. You were supposed to be happy.

But sitting there, in the golden hush of Yoongi’s living room, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe — deep down — you were more lost than you had ever been.

Yoongi had warned you before you even sat down at lunch. "I'm on call tonight," he said, raking a hand through his hair, the circles under his eyes deeper than you remembered. "Might have to leave early if the hospital needs me."

You nodded, smiled — understanding the way you always had with him. Yoongi didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. But he also belonged to the world now, not just to you.

Still, when his phone buzzed halfway through the meal and he stood with a sigh heavy enough to pull the air out of the room, it hit you harder than you expected.

"Sorry, kid," he said, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. "We’ll catch up properly soon, okay? I swear."

And just like that, you were alone.

You thought, maybe, you could call Yeji. But she wasn’t in Seoul.

She had left for a volunteer project months ago — tucked away somewhere in the countryside, helping rebuild after the floods that summer. She sent photos sometimes: muddy boots, cracked hands, wide fields stretching past the horizon. She was doing something good, something real. But it meant that for now, she was a hundred miles away and unreachable.

You thought about Jungkook too. But he was gone, too.

A last-minute opportunity had whisked him across the world — a creative residency in London, something about music and exhibitions and a chance he couldn’t afford to miss. You had seen the announcement two weeks ago, his excited face lit up under the headline. You had smiled, proud of him, even as a little piece of you folded up inside.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Everyone was growing, reaching, becoming more than the little lives you used to share.

You were proud. You really were.

But it didn’t stop the quiet from pressing against your ribs now, in the backseat of the taxi, as the city blurred past — neon-bright, indifferent.

Yoongi’s apartment greeted you with nothing but stillness.

The keys scraped awkwardly in the lock. The door swung open onto spotless wood floors, pale walls, a couch too neat to be truly lived in. A few framed photos leaned on the shelves — crooked smiles, memories that didn’t include you anymore. A half-wilted plant sagged in the corner, stubborn and tired.

You dropped your suitcase by the door. Your sneakers thudded against the floor, the noise too loud, too sharp.

You stood there for a moment, your backpack still slung over one shoulder, your jacket still clutched in your hands — waiting, stupidly, for something to happen.

Nothing did.

You wandered to the kitchen, opened a cabinet, closed it again. The fridge buzzed, empty except for some yogurt cups and two lonely bottles of water.

You weren’t hungry. You weren’t tired either.

You were just... dislodged. Suspended between the life you had built so far away, and the life you were supposed to rebuild here.

You curled up on the worn couch, dragging an old blanket over your shoulders. Your phone sat face-down beside you, buzzing occasionally with messages you didn’t have the energy to answer.

The city pulsed just outside the windows — relentless, glittering, alive.

You stayed very still.

You thought about the degree tucked away carefully in your suitcase — proof that you had finished something, proof that you were supposed to be somebody now.

You thought about the friends who were oceans away, chasing their futures.

You thought about Hoseok, for a brief, aching second — but shoved the thought away before it could bloom into something dangerous.

And you realized, for the first time in months — maybe years — that you were really, truly on your own.

You buried your face into the scratchy fabric of the couch cushion, breathing in the faint scent of detergent and city dust.

You had made it home. You had done everything right.

So why did it feel like you had never been farther away?

Two weeks back in Seoul, and you were going crazy.

At first, it hadn’t seemed so bad. You told yourself you deserved a few days off — a few mornings sleeping in, a few afternoons wandering old streets like a ghost trying to recognize the bones of her old life.

But the days stretched, and the silence thickened, and the applications piled up.

You sat at Yoongi’s kitchen table every morning with your laptop open, wearing the same pair of sweatpants, staring blankly at cover letters you didn’t know how to finish.

Every listing sounded the same: dynamic self-starter. fast-paced environment. salary based on experience.

Experience you didn’t have. Confidence you were quickly losing.

You clicked "submit" on half-hearted applications and tried not to feel like you were throwing little pieces of yourself into a void.

You refreshed your inbox obsessively. Nothing. Or worse — polite rejections that started to feel like tiny fractures spider-webbing through your chest.

By the tenth day, even Yoongi noticed.

"You gotta get out of the house, kid," he said one night between bites of cold takeout, not even looking up from his medical journals. "You’re driving yourself insane."

You had flipped him off half-heartedly, too tired to argue.

He wasn’t wrong.

The walls of his apartment felt closer every day, pressing in. Your own brain felt like it was buzzing, restless and too loud.

You weren’t even sure who you were anymore. A college graduate? A jobless daughter? A drifting stranger in her own hometown?

You scrolled through your phone late at night, seeing snapshots of your old friends — the ones who had stayed in the U.S., the ones who had gotten promotions, internships, shiny new apartments.

Meanwhile, you were stuck here, pressing "apply" over and over into the abyss.

The only thing tethering you to sanity was the news that Yeji was coming back soon. Finally.

She texted you late one night, her photo blurry and grainy from bad countryside signal — muddy boots, windblown hair, wide grin. coming back next weekend, babe🌟 get ready for me 💥

You stared at the text for a long time, heart pinching.

Yeji — your Yeji — the one person who had always known how to pull you back when you drifted too far. Maybe once she got back, things would start to make sense again.

Maybe you wouldn’t feel so lost anymore.

Maybe.

You set your phone down on the nightstand, rolled onto your side, and stared at the pale ceiling above Yoongi’s borrowed bed.

You had thought coming back to Seoul would make you feel whole again. Instead, you felt like a puzzle with pieces missing — scattered and unfinished.

You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, breathing out slowly into the empty room.

Two weeks back, and you still didn’t know who you were supposed to be now.

It was a strange thing, feeling out of place in a city you had once dreamed about.

When you were a kid growing up in Gwangju, Seoul had always felt like the answer to everything — a glittering world just out of reach, buzzing with possibility. You were supposed to come here for university, supposed to start your life under these neon skies.

But life had shifted — the U.S. happened — and now, somehow, you were here years later, a little older, a little more worn down, and nothing felt the way you thought it would.

You told yourself this disorientation was new. Something about coming back after so long.

But if you were honest — if you stripped everything else away — maybe it had always been there, waiting underneath.

You had done what you were supposed to do. You had graduated. You had succeeded. You had come back to Korea because it felt safe. Familiar. Because a part of you still believed Seoul was the dream.

But sitting here, drowning in unanswered job applications, scrolling endlessly through postings you couldn't care less about, you were starting to realize: You hadn't just missed your family. You hadn't just missed the comfort of home.

You had missed yourself.

The version of you who moved through life with want instead of fear. The version who chased things for the thrill of it, not to prove a point. The version who said yes to a creative writing minor just because it set her chest on fire — not because it would ever fit neatly on a resume.

The internship at the mid-sized company? You had done that for the validation. For the polished bullet point you could show people back home, proof that you weren't wasting your time.

You sat back in Yoongi’s too-quiet apartment, your chest aching with the weight of all the things you hadn’t admitted until now.

Maybe the scariest part wasn’t that you didn’t know where you belonged. Maybe it was realizing you had built a life chasing a version of yourself you didn’t even recognize anymore.

The front door buzzed, sharp and sudden.

You blinked. You weren’t expecting anyone.

Another buzz, louder this time.

You stumbled up, crossing the room barefoot, and pressed the intercom.

"Star, open the damn door! I’m freezing!" a familiar voice crackled through — blurry but unmistakably Yeji.

Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest.

You flung the door open without even checking, and there she was — Yeji, standing in the hallway, messy ponytail, cheeks pink from the cold, dragging a battered duffel bag that looked about three times her size.

"You look like crap," she announced gleefully, before you could even say hi.

You laughed — this wild, cracked sound that burst out of your chest — and launched yourself at her.

Yeji caught you in a bone-crushing hug, the kind that squeezed the breath right out of you, and you held on like the ground might give out if you let go.

"I missed you, idiot," she muttered into your hair.

"I missed you too," you said, your voice splintering.

Later, you ended up sprawled on Yoongi’s worn-out couch, two mugs of cheap instant coffee between you, legs tangled together like you were sixteen again.

Yeji talked first — about the countryside, about building homes with her bare hands, about the long nights and longer bus rides. You listened, soaking up every word like sunlight after a long winter.

Then it was your turn.

You told her about the job applications, about the quiet panic that crept into your chest when you opened your laptop every morning. You told her how weird it felt to finally be living in Seoul — the Seoul you had dreamed about — and still feel like you didn’t fit.

Yeji didn’t interrupt. She didn’t laugh. She just listened, her face serious, her hand steady on the coffee mug between her palms.

"You don't have to figure it all out right now, you know," she said eventually, her voice soft but certain. "You’re allowed to just... be lost for a bit."

You looked down at your hands — at the invisible tremor you felt deep in your bones.

"But what if I forgot who I’m supposed to be?" you whispered.

Yeji smiled — the kind of smile that was a little sad, a little proud.

"Then maybe it’s time to figure out who you actually are," she said. "And not who you thought you had to be."

You swallowed hard.

Maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn’t about going back to who you were before. Maybe it was about giving yourself permission to start over — here, in this messy, uncertain, imperfect Seoul that didn’t look like your childhood dreams anymore.

Insecurities aside, you and Yeji had a sleepover — and it was pure, chaotic magic.

You dragged every pillow and blanket you could find into a giant mess on the living room floor, ordered enough fried chicken for a small army, and let yourselves be twenty again — loud, messy, unfiltered.

"Babe," Yeji said dramatically, waving a chicken drumstick like a magic wand. "You have missed so much, it’s actually criminal."

You snorted, reaching for a soda. "I was getting a whole-ass degree across the world, Yeji."

She rolled her eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck. "Babe, that’s not an excuse. Life was happening here!"

And then — casually, like she wasn’t about to emotionally assassinate you — she dropped it:

"Anyway, Jungkook set me up on a blind date."

You choked so hard on your drink you actually saw stars.

"WAIT. WHAT?!"

Yeji grinned like the evil little gremlin she was. "Yup. Your sweet little golden boy decided I was 'emotionally constipated' — his words, babe — and said I needed to get laid or I’d wither into a husk."

You howled with laughter, slapping the couch cushions.

"That sounds like Jungkook," you gasped. "I leave for five minutes and you’re getting pimped out like a drama character?!"

Yeji cackled. "AND GUESS WHAT. The guy? Actually hot. Actually amazing."

You sat up, alert. "Okay, DETAILS, BABE. I need the whole menu."

She leaned in like she was telling you state secrets.

"His name’s Namjoon. Works in publishing or editing or something sexy like that. He’s tall — like skyscraper tall — and he has dimples, babe. DIM. PLES." She clutched her chest like she was actually in physical pain.

You shrieked into a pillow.

"And he’s smart — like scary smart. He was talking about some book project and I swear, half the words he used aren’t even in the dictionary. I just sat there nodding like an idiot while falling in love."

You were CRYING laughing at this point. Yeji was full-body storytelling, waving her arms, reenacting every single moment.

"And THEN," she said, grabbing your wrist dramatically, "he took off his jacket, right? And — babe — the forearms. I was actually fighting for my life."

You wheezed. "Yeji, please, I’m BEGGING you."

"I’m not even joking, babe," she said solemnly. "The veins? The watch? I almost proposed."

You were half-sobbing, half-wheezing, sprawled backwards on the floor.

"And he listens, babe. Like actually listens when I talk. No pretending, no glazed-over look. Just... full attention. Like I’m saying something important."

Yeji’s voice softened a little then, and you caught the shine in her eyes.

You sat up properly, resting your chin on your knees. "You deserve that," you said, meaning it with your whole heart. "You deserve someone who looks at you like that."

Yeji smiled — that crumpled, overwhelmed smile she only got when she was trying really hard not to cry.

"And so do you, babe," she said fiercely, pointing a chicken bone at you for emphasis. "You deserve someone who doesn’t make you feel like you have to earn being loved."

Your throat closed up a little.

You grabbed a pillow and chucked it at her head instead of answering.

Yeji caught it, laughing, and for a little while, you just stayed like that — two girls in a blanket fort, talking about hot boys and scary feelings, trying to stitch yourselves back together with bad jokes and too much fried chicken.

The future could wait. Tonight, you had each other.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

The door swung closed behind him with a soft thud.

You stood frozen, blanket slipping off your shoulders, heart crawling painfully up your throat.

It wasn’t Yoongi.

It was Hoseok.

You stared — half-awake, half-shocked — as he stepped inside, keys dangling from his fingers, a bag of takeout clutched in one hand.

It had been a long time.

Too long.

He looked different.

Not drastically, not in a way most people would notice. But you noticed.

The set of his jaw was a little sharper. The shadows under his eyes, a little deeper. The way he carried himself now — less bounce, more quiet gravity — it was all there, woven into the lines of his body like threads only you could see.

Still, he smiled when he saw you — easy, warm, familiar.

Like he always did.

"Long time no see, Star," he said, voice low, a little rough around the edges from sleep and travel.

And you —

You, who had loved him quietly, hopelessly, across countless summers and half-shared glances — you felt the name hit you square in the chest.

You forced a smile back, your fingers tightening unconsciously in the sleeves of Yoongi’s hoodie.

"Yeah," you managed, your voice thinner than you wanted it to be. "It’s been a while."

The words hung awkwardly between you, like wet clothes refusing to dry.

Hoseok shifted, scratching the back of his neck, glancing around the apartment without really seeing it.

He didn’t seem uncomfortable, exactly. Just... unsure.

Like he felt the weight of the years too — heavy and clumsy on his shoulders — but didn’t know what to do with it.

You watched him set the bag of food down carefully on the counter, his movements slower, more measured than you remembered.

You wondered if he noticed it too — the space between you, cracked and uneven now.

Life had pulled you apart. Not in a dramatic, explosive way. No fights, no betrayals.

Just... time.

The slow, inevitable erosion of closeness when neither side tries quite hard enough to hold on.

And it hurt, in a way you hadn’t been prepared for.

Because you remembered — God, you remembered — every stupid little moment from when he was a permanent fixture in your life.

The late nights talking about nothing. The way he used to steal your fries and pretend it was a fair trade. The way he used to laugh — head thrown back, completely unguarded — like nothing in the world could touch him.

You remembered all of it. And looking at him now — older, quieter, somehow lonelier — you realized with a slow, sick twist of your heart:

He probably didn’t.

Or if he did, it wasn’t etched into his bones the way it was for you.

He was just here. Dropping off food. Smiling at you like you were an old photo he forgot he ever loved.

And yet — in the way his eyes softened when they landed on you, in the small crease that appeared between his brows when you hugged your arms tighter around yourself —

you saw something.

A flicker.

A question he didn’t know how to ask.

He felt something too. He just didn’t know what it was yet.

Yeji stirred on the couch behind you, groaning loudly and kicking off a blanket.

You both startled, breaking the heavy, fragile eye contact like it hurt.

Yeji cracked one eye open and grinned sleepily.

"Morning," she mumbled. "Hope I’m not interrupting a moment."

You flushed, ducking your head, while Hoseok huffed a laugh — easy, thoughtless — and turned toward the kitchen.

"No moment," he said lightly.

And it was true.

There was no moment.

Not really.

Just a hundred thousand memories humming between you — all the things you never said, and all the versions of yourselves you could never go back to.

You watched his back as he unpacked the food, your heart heavier than you wanted to admit.

You were older now. You were supposed to know better.

But you still wanted — in quiet, stupid, impossible ways — for him to turn around and see you.

Really see you.

For the first time.

The second his plane touched down in Seoul, Hoseok called Yoongi.

It was instinct, not thought — muscle memory after all these years.

He leaned back in the taxi seat, exhaustion creeping deep into his bones, phone pressed loosely against his ear. The scent of rain on hot pavement bled in through the half-open window.

Three weeks away — three weeks of conferences and endless business dinners in Singapore. It had been good, objectively. A success, by anyone’s standards.

But Hoseok couldn’t shake the hollow feeling that clung to him — something he didn’t want to name.

It wasn’t that he hated what he was doing. It was secure. It was safe.

It just... wasn't the same.

Not the way dancing had been. Not the way it set his veins alight and made him feel like he was alive instead of just existing.

He pushed the thought away, listening as the call rang through.

It went to voicemail.

Typical.

Yoongi was busier these days — a head doctor now, constantly sprinting from one emergency to the next. Hoseok didn’t take it personally. He just shot a lazy text instead: yo you home? just landed.

Yoongi’s reply came a few minutes later: not till lunch. you can wait there if you want. key still works.

No details. No explanations. Just Yoongi.

Hoseok smiled faintly, the way you do when you miss someone without even realizing it.

He checked the time — almost noon.

He figured he had enough time to swing by the old place — their favorite little restaurant tucked behind a pharmacy on the corner — grab some takeout, and settle in at Yoongi’s apartment to wait.

No big deal.

He wasn’t expecting anything.

Definitely not... you.

When he unlocked the door with his copy of the key (because yes, they were those friends — the kind who shared everything without ever needing to ask), he thought he’d find an empty apartment, cold and still.

He did not expect the first thing he saw to be you.

Blankets everywhere. Messy hair. Oversized hoodie swallowing your frame.

And you — standing there barefoot, half-blinking at him like you were still halfway inside a dream.

For a second — a full, frozen second — Hoseok's entire brain short-circuited.

Star.

The name crashed into him like a freight train.

He hadn’t thought about you in months — or maybe he had, in small, quiet ways he hadn’t dared to admit.

You looked... different.

Not in the way that was easy to name. Not just the longer hair or the softer shape of your face.

It was deeper than that.

You held yourself differently now — a little heavier, a little slower, like life had settled into your skin instead of sitting lightly on your shoulders like it used to.

Your body, too — he noticed it before he could stop himself.

The curve of your waist, softer and fuller than he remembered. The slight dip where your hips met the hem of the hoodie, barely hidden, barely decent. The way your legs — longer, stronger — braced you instinctively like you were ready to run, or maybe stay.

You were a woman now.

Not the messy little girl who used to chase after him and Yoongi, trying to keep up. Not the bright-eyed teenager he used to laugh with in the summers.

A woman.

And fuck, it hit him so hard he actually forgot how to breathe for a second.

You were still you — still that soft, stubborn, reckless light he remembered — but everything about you was heavier now, richer. Alive in ways that made something deep inside him ache and burn all at once.

You stared at him like you couldn’t quite believe he was real either.

He managed to pull himself together — just barely — and smiled.

It wasn’t the easy, boyish grin he used to throw at you years ago. It was something smaller. Older. Sadder, maybe.

"Long time no see, Star," he said, voice low and a little rougher than he meant.

You flinched — not in fear, but in recognition.

Like hearing that name had broken something open between you, something you had both tried so hard to bury.

He watched as you fumbled for words, clutching the hem of your hoodie, cheeks coloring even as you tried to act casual.

He could see everything — the nervous twitch of your hands, the way your breath caught at the back of your throat, the way your gaze flickered over him like you didn’t know where to land.

It mirrored the way he felt: unsteady, too full, too much.

You said something — something about Yoongi not being there — but Hoseok barely heard it.

He was too busy memorizing you all over again.

The small things. The new things. The old things you still carried, tucked carefully inside yourself.

Something twisted in his chest — something dangerous and familiar.

He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected you.

And standing there, with your bare feet on the hardwood, hair tangled, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, blinking at him like he was a ghost — he realized, dimly, terrifyingly:

He was completely fucked.

Hoseok had always been a happy teenager. Full of energy, full of noise, full of this impossible need to fill every room he entered.

But there had always been a sadness, too — quiet, stubborn, tucked deep in the marrow of his bones.

Something about him made people notice. Maybe it was his laughter — loud and reckless, daring the world to keep up. Maybe it was the way he carried his heart in his hands without apology.

But there were moments —moments even then where all that light would slip through the cracks, where he felt older than he had any right to be.

He was sixteen when he first realized it — that feeling of being too much and not enough all at once.

He hid it well. With teasing, mostly. With jokes and grins and a devil-may-care attitude that made it easy for everyone else to believe he was fine.

And he was. Mostly.

Especially around you.

You, who he loved to tease more than anyone.

You, his Star — though you didn’t know it then.

You never really knew why he called you that. You never asked. And he never told you.

But it was a memory he kept tucked carefully inside him — something small and sharp he would trace with his fingers when the world got too loud.

It had been a bad day. Not catastrophic. Just... bad in the quiet, ordinary ways that left bruises you couldn’t see.

His parents arguing again like they did sometimes — voices rising, anger curling under the doors. He was fourteen. Reckless, restless, angry at everything and nothing.

So he ran. Not far — just far enough.

He ran to the one place that still felt safe. Your house.

His second home.

And there you were — not waiting for him, not expecting anything—just there.

Sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, a book propped open in your lap, your tongue poking out slightly in concentration.

You were eleven. Far too young to understand the heaviness he carried in his chest.

Far too young to realize you saved him that day without even trying.

He remembered pausing in the doorway, breathless from running, heart pounding against his ribs — and for once, not from movement.

He watched you for a second. Just breathing.

You, who were calm where he was chaos. You, who were stubborn and sweet — to everyone except him. (He liked it that way. He liked that he had to work for your smiles.)

You noticed him eventually — glanced up, wide-eyed and bright.

And without hesitation, you started talking — telling him about whatever story you were reading, voice eager, stumbling over the words in your excitement.

He didn’t hear a single thing you said. Not really.

He just watched.

Listened.

Let the sound of your voice — full of something he had almost forgotten how to feel — wrap around the cracks inside him.

He didn't understand why it mattered so much. Not then.

All he knew was that, for a few stolen minutes, the sadness in him quieted.

And when you smiled God, when you smiled

It was like a whole new universe cracked open right in front of him.

You were so full of life it made his chest ache. So bright it hurt a little to look at you.

So he called you Star.

Because you were.

Because you were light when he needed it most. Because you reminded him — in that stupid, reckless, perfect moment — that not everything in his world was broken.

And even years later — even now, older and quieter and heavier — he remembered.

That day. That smile. That moment of peace he hadn’t known how to ask for but found anyway.

His Star.

Always his Star.

Even if he never told you.

Even if you never knew.

[silent-stories]

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 (𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐅 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄)

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: Some of the guys drop by for a surprise visit.

That morning, some of the guys had shown up without warning, just the sound of the doorbell followed by three familiar voices yelling their hellos and good mornings.

The moment you swung the door open, Neki launched himself at Matt with the force of a missile, tail wagging so hard it looked like he might take off.

Matt staggered back, losing his balance on the porch steps and ending up on the ground as he tried to fend off a face full of sloppy dog kisses, laughing and cursing at the same time. Nick and Folio were no help, both too busy laughing to step in, and you just shook your head, already used to that.

Now, you were curled up on the couch next to Noah, your legs tucked under you, his hand resting loosely in yours. He wasn’t exactly holding your hand, not the full, fingers-laced kind of hold, but his thumb kept tracing slow circles across the back of your hand like a habit he didn’t even know he had. It was always comforting.

Matt, Nick, and Folio were spread out across the living room, half-listening to each other’s stories, half-watching Luna as she sat cross-legged in front of Folio, showing him the intricacies of stacking her animal-shaped blocks in color order.

He was all in, nodding seriously as she explained the difference between “this kind of elephant” and “the other kind,” even if she was making half of it up.

Folio was the kind of guy who could hang with a toddler all day and still have fun. He sat cross-legged too, at her eye level, pretending to be absolutely shocked when her tower reached four blocks tall without falling.

“Oh my god, you're basically an architect.”

Luna was wearing soft pink leggings with little stars on the knees and a slightly too-big t-shirt with a smiling sun printed on the front. Her socks, as often, didn’t match, one covered in tiny strawberries, the other with little moons.

You’d always loved how Noah never cared what she decided to wear, as long as she was happy and comfy. He let her choose colors, patterns, textures, even if they clashed, and never tried to tone her down into beige neutrals like so many parents on the internet seemed to do. Luna looked like herself. Like a kid. And you completely loved it.

“No,” she said simply. “I’m just really good.”

Nick laughed from where he sat on the armchair, shaking his head. “She’s got confidence.”

“That's my girl,” Noah said beside you, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

You let your head lean against his shoulder, feeling the low rumble of his laugh beneath your cheek as Folio said something dumb to make Luna laugh.

Matt was sitting on the couch too, one of the muffins you and Luna had baked a few days earlier halfway to his mouth, when she suddenly turned to him with that curious little furrow in her brow.

“Matt,” she said, serious. “Why do you always wear a hat?”

The whole room paused. You stifled a laugh. Matt blinked.

“I don’t always wear it,” he said.

“Yes you do,” Luna countered. “Even when it’s not raining. Even when it’s sunny. Even inside. Like now.”

Noah choked on his sip of water, turning his face into your shoulder to muffle his laugh. You were shaking silently too, watching Matt try to defend himself to a three-year-old.

“Well…” Matt shrugged. “Maybe I just really like hats.”

“Or,” Luna said, tapping her chin, “maybe you’re hiding something.”

Nick howled from the chair. “Matt, are you secretly bald?”

“I have a full head of hair, thank you very much,” Matt protested, tugging the hair peaking out of the hat. Luna’s eyes narrowed like she wasn’t convinced.

“Hmm,” she said suspiciously, before turning back to her blocks, her curiosity satisfied for now.

Folio gave her a little fist bump. “Great investigative journalism.”

Soon, the game moved on to tea time, even though it was eleven in the morning, and Luna was explaining to all of you that Mr. Flop only liked tea with a nice slice of strawberry shortcake.

That’s when Folio leaned in and asked, “I’m definitely the best uncle you’ve ever had. Right, Luna?”

Luna blinked at him, head tilted. Before she could answer, Matt jumped in.

“Hey—no way. I’m the one who gave you that plush raccoon last month, remember? I’m obviously the best.”

Nick, from his perch on the armchair, raised a hand. “Do I need to remind you clowns that I’m the one who taught her how to play that keyboard toy thing?"

They all turned to Luna like she was a royal judge presiding over a very serious court case.

“Okay, Luna,” Folio said, pointing at his chest. “Be honest. Who’s your favorite?”

Luna looked between the three of them. “I don’t have one. I like all my uncles. Jolly too.”

Matt insisted. “But if you had to pick one, just one. Like—gun to your head—”

“Matthew!” you scolded, laughing.

“Fine, fine. Plastic toy to your head,” he amended, holding his hands up. “Who would it be?”

Luna gave it one more beat of thought, then pointed at Matt. “You.”

Folio let out a dramatic gasp and flopped onto the floor like he’d been personally betrayed. “What?! I have been playing with you for two hours!”

Matt looked like he’d just won the Super Bowl. “Oh my god, thank you!” he said, scooping Luna up into his arms and plopping her gently onto his lap. “I knew it. I knew we were best friends.”

Luna leaned back against him with a pleased little smile. “Because you like raccoons. And I like raccoons.”

“That’s… fair,” Nick said with a shrug. “That’s a solid reason.”

For a few minutes, everyone went back to lounging and chatting. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Matt casually reach into his hoodie pocket and pass Luna a piece of candy behind his back.

"Good job." He whispered.

Folio caught it a second later. He shot to his feet, pointing at Matt like he’d just uncovered a criminal conspiracy. “You bribed a three-year-old to say you’re her favorite uncle! With candy! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Nick laughed. “I knew something was fishy!”

Matt was laughing too hard to defend himself. Luna just happily unwrapped the candy.

“I guess we’ll never know the real answer,” you said with a chuckle.

“I’m taking it as a win,” Matt declared, while Luna perched happily on his lap, still munching her candy.

Nick rolled his eyes. “You paid for the win. It doesn’t count.”

Folio shook his head and flopped back into his spot on the floor beside Luna’s now-abandoned blocks. “This isn’t over. Next time, I’m bringing... I don't know, a piñata.”

“She doesn’t even like piñatas,” Matt shot back.

“She likes fun, and you, my dude, are not fun, you’re a raccoon sympathizer with candies in your hoodie.”

Matt just rolled his eyes.

After some time, you’d gotten up to head to the bathroom, and just as you were stepping into the hallway, Nick rounded the corner, a glass of water in one hand.

You both nearly bumped into each other, then froze, smiling reflexively.

“Oh—sorry,” you said with a quiet laugh.

“No, you're fine.” He stepped back half a pace, then hesitated. “Hey, wait a sec.”

You turned, eyebrows raised.

Nick looked at you for a beat, like he was searching for the right words. “I’ve probably said this before,” he started, “but I just... I need to say it again. Or better.”

He paused. “I really love how you love him,” he said simply. “How you love both of them.”

You felt a warm feeling in your chest.

“He’s been through so much shit. He is my best friend and I just want him to be happy. And I see the way you look at him. Like it’s easy to love him. And he deserves that more than anyone. After everything? He deserves something quiet and good. And you’re that. You're one of the best things that have ever happened to him.”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded, your throat tight.

Nick offered a faint, knowing smile. “I know we’re not the most emotionally articulate group of dudes. But I notice. We all do.”

There was a pause.

"I just wanna say I'm glad you found them." He finished.

"I'm glad they found me too." You smiled. If it were any other time, you probably would have burst into tears in the hallway of what had become your home.

Nick gave you a little mock salute with his water glass. “Alright. Go pee before I get sappy again.”

You walked past him with a chuckle and a full heart.

When you came back, Luna had left Matt's lap and she gave all of you a plastic tea cup.

“For you. Candy-flavored tea,” she said. “Because you’re the prettiest.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” you replied with a warm smile. “But in that case, you should have it.”

She giggled softly, a little shy, and you mimed pouring some into her cup.

“How about we split it, okay?”

“Good idea!” she nodded, clearly pleased with the compromise.

“This isn’t just regular tea time,” she added as she gave Neki, sitting at Nick's feet, a cup too “It’s a Wonderland tea party.”

Nick blinked. “Like Alice in Wonderland?”

“Yes. I'm Alice.”

Folio laughed. “Can I be the Mad Hatter?”

“No,” Luna said with a grin. “Daddy is the Mad Hatter.”

Noah looked up from where he was absently playing with the hem of your sleeve. “I’m the Mad Hatter now?”

“Yep,” she said “Because your hair is silly when you wake up.”

“Fair enough."

“What about me?” Matt asked.

“You’re the Dormouse,” Luna said instantly. “Because you always fall asleep on the couch after lunch.”

“I’ve never—”

“You snored during Frozen,” you said.

Matt threw his hands up. “Okay, okay. Dormouse it is.”

Nick raised a finger from his spot on the armchair. “March Hare. Calling it now. It just feels right.”

Luna nodded.

“And me?” Folio asked hopefully.

“You can be the Cheshire Cat,” Luna decided.

Finally, she turned to look at you. "Who am I?”

She tilted her head, thoughtful. “You’re the Mad Hatter’s girlfriend.”

You blinked. “That’s not even a character in the book.”

“Well, it is now,” she said. “You’re the one who helps the Hatter not be too crazy."

Noah chuckled beside you, tightening his arm around your waist. “Honestly, she’s not wrong.”

“She never is,” Nick said. “It’s slightly terrifying.”

“And Neki,” she added, “is the Caterpillar.”

Matt squinted. “The one that sits on a mushroom getting high?”

Noah glared at him and Folio laughed.

Luna looked pleased with herself as she plopped back down in the center of the living room, where the blocks had now become a table and Mr. Flop (the White Rabbit, of course) sat as the guest of honor.

“Okay,” she said. “Tea is served.”

You leaned closer to Noah, your hand still under his, his thumb still tracing gentle lines. He looked over at you with soft eyes and an even softer smile.

“I love this,” you whispered.

You always loved it when the guys came over. There was something so heartwarming about seeing these tattoo-covered men joke around with a three-year-old and be the best uncles anyone could ask for, each of them in their own way. And if you’d always believed that family had nothing to do with blood ties, and you’d had that belief confirmed the moment you met Noah, it became even clearer, even more real, once you got to know all of his friends.

He didn’t say anything right away, just pressed a kiss to your hair and let his chin rest there.

“Me too,” he murmured, thumb never stopping.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @bloody-spades @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog @pandora-08 @geminigirlfromfinland

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @clickmedead @whenyouwannafindlove @kenjipepsi1

[cartierre]

HIGH INFIDELITY | cl16, cs55

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU carlos sainz x latina!reader x charles leclerc

side note: there is implied cheating. this is based on "high infidelity" by taylor swift. side note pt2: sorry for the ugly watermarks on the youtube interviews. and for the bad quality. couldn't find better ones. side note pt3: this is so over the place i apologise.

♡ liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomez and 34,293 others

yourusername veranos brasileños (brazilian summers)

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user1 are you and carlos still dating be honest

user2 are we not going to address the elephant in the room? ⤷ user3 it's all just rumours why do they need to address that?

user4 okay so carlos is still liking and all... maybe we are just overreacting?

user5 miss ma'am attended one birthday of her friend alone and suddenly everyone thinks her and carlos are over? ⤷ user6 she's also not been attending any races since australia ⤷ user7 okay and? she has a life of her own? ⤷ user8 it is suspicious ngl

♡ liked by 127,340 people

tagged: yourusername, carlossainz55

f1wag Carlos Sainz Jr. and his girlfriend of two years, Y/N Y/L/N, have officially broken up. After cheating rumours sparked the news, the couple has decided to call it quits right before the Belgium GP this weekend.

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user9 i'm not surprised ⤷ user10 i'm actually amazed they even lasted that long after the rumours

user11 i just would've loved to see their chats after the cheating rumours hit the internet ⤷ user12 same like what happened that y/n met up with charles and carlos with isa?

user13 does that mean we'll finally see carlos and isa again?

user14 good riddance on carlos' side honestly

user15 am i the only one that thinks they were kinda cute together tho? ⤷ user16 yes

♡ liked by charles_leclerc and 19,293 others

yourusername happier than ever

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user17 omg is that charles ⤷ user18 i mean it does look like the apm monaco watch he's wearing ⤷ user19 and he is still following her and liking her posts

user20 the way she is so fucking unbothered by everyone calling her a cheater... she won the idgaf war

user21 if charles and y/n are dating now that's kind of an ass move from them

user22 at least she seems happier now? ⤷ user23 she doesn't deserve to be happy after what she did to carlos

user24 i'm laughing at how she lost so many followers lmao

♡ liked by 92,394 people

f1wag Ex-WAG Y/N Y/L/N has been spotted multiple times in Monaco since the summer break has started. It is rumoured that she's been seeing Charles Leclerc, teammate of her ex-boyfriend Carlos Sainz Jr. However, none of the rumours have been proven right.

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user25 she's such a whore omg ⤷ user26 yeah but charles isn't any better

user27 this is so disrespectful to carlos

user28 it hasn't even been a month since their break-up and y/n is already out here rubbing her new relationship with charles under carlos' nose? smh

user29 so we were right to mistrust her from the beginning?

user30 i'm so gagged by the disrespect. this is a new low.

user31 charles went from homie hopper to collecting the ex-girlfriends ⤷ user32 he's getting the leftovers

♡ liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 21,928 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername none of you know the whole story...

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[hollowmem]

Ooo thank you! What about if Johnny and Reader has to babysit, sprung on them out of nowhere. Maybe Captain’s toddler or baby? They’re frazzled but pull through just peachy. 😍 There are some hilarious mishaps though feat. precocious child thoughts that got them thinking of having a bairn of their own. Reader teases that Johnny needs to give her a ring first.

Week of leave

AFAB !Reader x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

You and Johnny were all set to head off for a proper week of leave — no drills, no alarms, no MREs. Just the two of you, a rental car, and plans to do absolutely nothing productive.

You were finishing up paperwork in the common room when Captain Price walked in, his little girl balanced on one hip, holding a worn elephant plush by the ear. She was looking around with sleepy curiosity, thumb in her mouth.

“Hey, Cap,” you greeted, raising an eyebrow.

“Got a favor to ask,” Price said and came straight up to you. His voice dropped to the kind of tone he usually reserved for classified ops. “I wouldn’t ask if I had any other option — but my sitter bailed, and I’ve got to be on a flight in two hours.”

You glanced between him and the toddler, already half-suspecting where this was going.

“She’s comfortable with you,” he said. “And you’ve got good instincts. More mature than most on base.”

There was a pause. Then, like an afterthought, he added, “MacTavish’ll be with you, right?”

Johnny, who had just walked in with a bag of chips and a look of betrayal, sputtered. “You sayin’ I’m not mature?”

Price gave him a flat look. “You once duct-taped a GoPro to a pigeon, Johnny.”

“That was science, mate.”

You bit back a laugh and looked down at the little girl, who was now trying to poke her tiny fingers into Johnny’s tactical boot.

“She’s good,” Price said softly. “Sweet. Just needs someone to keep her safe for a couple days while I’m out.”

You exhaled. “Yeah. We can do it.”

The next few days were a delightful disaster.

You’d been tackled at 6 a.m. by a giggling blur in dinosaur pajamas. Johnny had discovered that she would cry every time he stopped reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar — so he’d read it seven times in one morning. The living room was a graveyard of half-chewed snacks, scattered crayons, and one suspiciously sticky throw pillow.

At night, after she finally passed out in her makeshift cot, you and Johnny would collapse on the couch, exhausted but kind of glowing.

One evening, Johnny watched her sleep, arms tucked under her chin, that elephant plush beside her.

“She’s a handful,” he said quietly. “But she’s… I dunno. Makes things feel real.”

You looked over, heart thudding.

“She called me ‘MacFish’ again today,” he added after a beat.

“She likes you,” you said, smiling. “She trusts you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I get why Price picked you, know. You’ve got this… steadiness about you. Like you already know what you’re doing.”

You tilted your head. “And what about you?”

He shrugged, then glanced at you. “I think I’d figure it out — if you were figuring it out with me.”

You smiled at that, but something in his voice made your stomach flip. It wasn’t a joke. Not this time.

You both fell quiet, watching the rise and fall of the toddler’s breathing, the peace of it — the weird, warm glow of the moment. For the first time, it wasn’t just funny or chaotic or sweet.

It felt... possible.

“You ever think about it?” he asked softly.

You blinked. “About what?”

“Having one. A kid.” He cleared his throat. “A family. With me.”

Your heart stuttered. He wasn’t looking at you, but you could tell he meant it — not some flippant joke or playful nudge. He was serious. Nervous, even.

“Yeah,” you said after a moment. “I do.”

He turned to look at you then — really looked — and you saw it: the hope. The longing. The love.

You reached over and took his hand. “But if we’re doing the whole family thing,” you teased gently, “you better start thinking about rings.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about that, too.”

Outside, the world was quiet. Inside, between the two of you, something new had quietly taken root — a future that felt more real than ever.

[penelopepine]

Elephant in the Room Pt. 3

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: John and you hooked up after a night at the bar. You two after that never saw each other again. At least until 12 years later when Price discovers that 9 months after your time together you had given birth to not one baby, but two. Word Count: 1592 Content: angst

Price honestly isn't sure what the best thing to do in this situation is, but he decides to softly knock, almost a tap, against the door once more before calling out your name, "I know I'm the last person you want to see right now, but I need to talk to you." 

 It goes quiet on the other side of the door, and for a moment John thinks that you, fairly so, left him standing there alone talking to himself. That is of course before the door is swinging open revealing you once more. Your eyes are bloodshot and cheeks are stained with tears. He also sees what once was confusion on your face is now replaced with anger. 

You take a step towards him with one arm raised. It's obvious that you're going to hit him, and while Price could very easily block it he lets you strike him. 

The sound of flesh connecting rings out through the quiet as you slap him across the face. Your breath is heavy as you growl out, "Did you do it? Did you take him?" 

He takes the hit in stride; you're hardly the strongest person to ever smack him before. Taking in your words though Price does feel a slight spark of anger in his chest at the idea of him doing this purposely. Although he supposes it does look very suspicious that he would show up right after Andrew was taken from your point of view. 

The labs luckily don't make any moves, simply watch the interaction in silence. "I promise you I didn't do this. You can think whatever you want about me, but I wasn't the one who took him. I have an idea who did though." He stares into your eyes, trying to show you that he isn't lying. "If we could all go inside I promise to explain what I can." 

"All?" It was at that moment that you finally seemed to take notice of the three other men behind him. 

John steps to the side letting you have a better view of them, "these are my men; they're here to help."

Looking at you though you don't seem to take in any of his words. You shake your head slightly before turning, and walking back inside; leaving the door open for them to presumably follow you.  

Silently you make your way into the dining room, and take a seat at the table. "Sit, please." Your voice is firm, but clearly exhausted. He sits down on the opposite side of you while Soap and Gaz sit on both sides of him. Ghost on the other hand stands in the corner next to the doorway. “Explain.” 

"My team was sent a video of Andrew." John for once found himself lacking confidence, and unsure of what to say. He wanted to tell you the truth, but in your current state being blunt may only hurt you further right now. "They made demands of me and my team for his safe return. A highly skilled team is looking into the video as we speak, and I will be going to get him back as soon as I can."

"Why did they take him to threaten you? How did they connect him to you?" You ask after a few seconds, "He has never even met you before." Your voice cracks as you try to speak. 

"Nothing is confirmed as of now, but I have an idea of how they found him. We'll keep you updated when new information comes to light. I assume after they found him they thought I had simply hid my family from any paper trail that led to me."

"So everything that's been happening is all because of some misunderstanding!" Your anger shining through with every word, "What now? I'm supposed to just sit here and wait; what's to stop them taking Amelia as well if you don't do as they say?"

“That’s actually why we’re here.” 

“What do you mean by that?”

Ghost is surprisingly the one to speak up, “It means you and the kid are being relocated. Time to start packing the essentials.” 

"Lieutenant!" Price quickly repremans, "What he meant to say is that it is no longer safe for you two to stay here while this situation is still active. We'd like to move you both onto base; a house is already set up for you." 

“You’re serious?,” You asked, voice rising in disbelief, “We have to leave our home?”

“It’s for your safety; I wouldn’t be asking this of you in any other situation.” 

“I just can’t believe that you-.” You begin to say before being cut off by a young feminine voice.

“Mom?” 

Price quickly looks toward the voice, and there standing in the doorway is Amelia. 

She looks quickly around the room, taking in and analyzing all the strangers in her home. Pausing once her focus is on him. He knows Amelia is a smart kid, and that with him in front of her there is no way she doesn't know who he is. It's obvious when it finally clicks in her head. Her shoulder tense and her eyes look sharper. "What's going on?" 

Before she has even finished asking her question you are standing and rushing towards her. You bring Amelia into your arms, and begin to guide her out of the dining room. "Let's go talk in your room." You say before addressing him once more, "I'll be down in a bit. Uh feel free to get yourself something from the kitchen. I'll be down to discuss this more shortly." 

No one says a thing as they watch you make your way around the corner and out of sight. The silence only lasts for a second though before Gaz is speaking up, "Cap, you solid?" 

Price takes a defeated breath, “How much have I messed this whole thing up?”

“I’d say this conversation is actually going quite well. She could have refused to listen to us entirely.” 

Soap is next to speak, “If anything I’d say Lt. is the one to make her hostile against him.” 

“She wasn’t going to like being told she and her daughter have to leave their home. That anger of being told that was directed at me rather than the captain. I’d say I’m the only one who helped him during that conversation.” Ghost states back.

Before Soap can say anything further Price interrupts them, “Enough you two; you’re not about to start arguing right now.” 

The room lulls back into silence before Gaz asks him, “What are we gonna do if she doesn’t agree to come with us?” 

"We'll stay here then until she does," John wasn't sure what else could be said to convince you to come with them, but he would stay here with you both until he did, "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that." 

Before more can be said you're striding back into the room once again; coming to stand across from him. "You're going to get Andrew back?"

"I won't rest until I do." 

You give him a final nod and say, "We'll go with you; to the base. I'll go start packing I suppose then." With that you're walking out leaving Price stunned with how almost simple that exchange was.

The rest of their time spent there was filled with helping them pack their bags into the cars. Soap and Gaz talked the most to you both at this point; not wanting you two to be scared of them. Hoping to be a friendly face in a new location.

John wanted to try and talk to Amelia, but this situation was already overstimulating and he didn't want to add even more on top of that. 

Finally everything was packed and ready to go. Laswell had texted him as well letting him know that the house was now fully set up for his girls.

His girls. Isn't that a nice thought.

It was at this moment though where John took a pause. You two had gotten into one of the vehicles and as much as he wanted to be with you both he wasn't sure if that would be the best right now. Being away right now might be better. Without much more thought to that he climbs into the other car; Ghost getting into the passenger's seat. He watches as Soap and Gaz climb into the car you're in before pulling out down the road back to base. 

It's a quiet drive; neither one feeling particularly talkative. After so long though Ghost surprisingly does speak up. "You should have got in the car with them." 

"Thank you for your input lieutenant," irritation was clear in his voice.

"You need to talk to them."

"That's ironic coming from you; someone who never wants to talk." 

"I'm not the one who discovered they have a family this morning." 

John tightens his grip on the steering wheel, "I think it's best to not overwhelm them right now." 

Ignoring what he just said, Ghost continues, "Time heals all wounds they say. The sooner you have an honest talk with them the sooner the healing can begin." 

"Time is not always enough; sometimes you have to amputate to heal." He retorts despite knowing that Ghost is only trying to help him. "If that means by the end of this they need to leave me to heal then so be it." 

Ghost gives him a hard stare before fixing his gaze onto the road ahead. The rest of the drive is silent.

Taglist: @zarsghost @lulurubberduckie @mafer383 @7thsthings @sazifer

[wintaerbaer]

ringing in the year (jjk)

summary: Your six-year relationship with Jungkook certainly hasn't been devoid of the occasional mishap. But when Seokjin accidentally winds up with a gift meant for you, Jungkook's proposal may wind up being the biggest blunder of all.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: generally sfw, sans a handful of swear words

genre: established relationship au, pure fluff, bit of a crack fic

word count: 2.2k

a/n: this was so fun to write, and a bunch of the details were inspired by real life events! thanks to @animeniacss for brainstorming this one with me and sprinting me through it. wishing everyone a happy and healthy new year! <3

MASTERLIST

Jungkook knows he’s messed up several times over the course of your six-year relationship.

There was the time in college when he wanted to cook you dinner and, upon realizing that he didn’t have a corkscrew to open the bottle of wine, tried to pry it open with a screwdriver and sprayed most of it all over the kitchen and himself.

There was the time when he ate suspiciously old-looking dumplings out of the fridge for lunch in spite of Hoseok’s warnings and spent your anniversary date that night going in and out of the bathroom.

And of course, there was the time when he'd insisted that it was fine for you to get frisky in the living room because Jimin wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Only to realize, oh wait, it's Saturday, the second the man himself walked in the door with both Yoongi and Taehyung in tow, all three getting quite the view of you and Jungkook on the area rug.

But this right here, he thinks, has got to be his biggest fuck-up of all, watching Seokjin peel back the wrapping paper on his white elephant gift to reveal a white mug that says, in large black lettering, “WORLD’S BEST WIFE.”

“Awww, Jungkookie,” he coos, raising the mug up above his head to show it off. “You’re proposing?”

He is, in fact, trying to propose, but certainly not to Seokjin. Every New Year’s Eve since sophomore year of college, your friend group has gotten together to party and do a holiday gift exchange that consists of a white elephant round and a general present swap.

Jungkook, wanting to propose amongst your friends and on what you’ve always said is your favorite day each year, had intended to give you the mug and propose later in the night. But, it would seem, he must’ve mixed up the two presents, putting your mug into the white elephant pile instead of the travel mug he had meant to contribute.

“Ah, Y/N,” Seokjin is now sighing, “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.”

You're giggling, wrapped in a burrito blanket that was courtesy of Hoseok. “It's okay. I understand that your love can't be denied.”

“Actually, hyung,” Jungkook finally gets the courage to pipe up. Is it hot in here? It feels hot in here. He might be sweating. “Can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second?”

“You need to talk now?” Hobi asks, wearing a t-shirt that also happens to be a collage of Seokjin's face–his white elephant offering. “It’s Yoongi’s turn. Let’s finish the white elephant, and then you can talk.”

“But–”

“I want Namjoon’s,” Yoongi says, snatching up the gift and tearing away the paper to unfurl a large black Snuggie. “Oh, fuck yeah.”

“You got a Snuggie?” Jimin jeers in Namjoon’s direction. “Lame.”

“Lame? It’s funny,” Namjoon argues.

“Yeah, if it was 2008.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Yoongi slides his arms into the sleeves, settling into the couch and eyeing the rest of the group warily.

Jimin rolls his eyes at him. “No one is going to steal it, hyung.”

“Nobody better fucking steal it.”

The game actually finishes with no steals. Namjoon opens up your gift (a KFC-scented fire log) and Jimin and Taehyung choose each other’s only to find out that they both bought Bob Ross Chia Pets. With the game over, your group devolves back into party mingling–Yoongi dozing off on the couch in his new Snuggie, Jimin and Taehyung heading immediately to the dining room to get started on their chia projects, and the rest of you trying to decide which party games you’re going to play as the night goes on.

But when Seokjin stands up, declaring that he’s heading to the kitchen to get a drink for his “fun new mug,” Jungkook jumps to follow him, bringing along the slab of granite with twenty dollars taped to it that he’d opened (“I’m renovating my countertops,” Yoongi had explained).

“Hyung,” Jungkook hisses as Seokjin reaches into the fridge for a beer. “I need that mug.”

Seokjin turns, sizing him up in the glow of the refrigerator. “Then you probably should’ve picked it.”

Jungkook huffs in exasperation before stepping in closer, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “Listen, I am trying to propose to Y/N tonight.”

“With a white elephant gift that anyone could’ve gotten?” He clicks his tongue, scolding. “That’s just terrible planning, Jungkookie. And proposing with a mug? A little boring.”

Color rises to Jungkook’s face, giving his cheeks a natural blush. “We were watching reruns of The Office when I kissed her for the first time. And it wasn’t supposed to be a white elephant–you know what? It doesn’t matter at this point. I just need the mug back.”

He reaches for the counter, intending to steal the mug away, but Seokjin gets there first, cradling it to his chest with a pout. “No, it’s mine. I opened it, and I’ve already imprinted–”

“We never should’ve let Y/N show you Twilight. Here, look.” He raises the granite sample and money in his hands, offering it up. “I’ll give you Yoongi’s gift and the gift I was supposed to be giving for the game. You’ll get two.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes in suspicion. “What was your original gift?”

“A travel mug that says, ‘Weird to be the same age as old people.’”

He gets a wrinkled nose in response. “Well I like this one better. The other one calls me old. This one says I’m the best wife ever.”

“Oh my God, hyung. You’re not a wife!”

“I’m not old either!”

Jungkook throws his arms up in frustration, practically launching his hunk of stone across the room. “Then what am I supposed to do? You’re really going to ruin my entire proposal?”

“Hmm.” Seokjin lifts a hand to his chin, the other still clutching the mug to his body. “Thirty-two-race drunk Mario Kart?”

“Hyung.”

“What? You want the mug–this is how you can get it.”

Jungkook scrubs a hand over his face, accepts the inevitable. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it.”

“Hooray!” A clap of his hands as Seokjin practically skips from the kitchen. “I’ll get us set up!”

By the time Jungkook drags his feet into the living room, Seokjin has already gathered a crowd, your friends piling onto the couches and armchairs to watch the upcoming event. Surely they’re expecting a slaughter; Seokjin is notoriously a Mario Kart ace.

“You looking to get drunk, babe?” you ask, settling into the spot next to him on the couch. “There are easier, less humiliating ways, you know.”

He pouts, eyebrows squishing together. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he grumbles, immediately forgiving you when you press your lips to his.

“For luck,” you say, giving him one more peck before sitting back to watch Seokjin hand him a controller, shot glass, and bottle of soju.

“Pick your character.” He plops onto Jungkook’s other side, selecting his own racer on the screen.

“Peach? Really?” Namjoon teases.

Seokjin shoots him a look. “I don’t wanna hear that from a basic-ass Mario main.”

Jungkook, meanwhile, chooses Donkey Kong, and loads up the first map, Peach and Donkey Kong lining up in their pink and yellow go-karts at the starting line.

“May the best me win,” Seokjin says, a split second before the light goes green.

He does win the race. And the next one and the next one. And Jungkook is three shots in before he even knows what hit him, fingers wrapped tightly around the controller.

“Not too late to back out, Jungkookie,” Seokjin jests, nudging him in the ribs. “At least leave with your pride intact.”

But before Jungkook can even respond, mouth already half-open in indignation, you wrap a soothing hand around his knee, massaging lightly.

“You've got this, Kook. You can do it.”

The sound of your voice puts him at ease almost instantly, and he ignores Seokjin, loading up the next track. This time, he does his best to relax, letting the feel of your palm siphon away his anxiety.

This is for you. He can do this for you.

The race is close, their cartoon avatars neck-and-neck until Jungkook manages to gain an edge at the very last second and blow through the finish line first.

“Holy shit!” Taehyung exclaims. “The Kart King lost?!”

“Calm down, it's one race,” Seokjin says. But he shifts forward on the couch as he takes his shot of soju, clearly miffed. “We have twenty-eight more to go. I like my odds.”

Seokjin wins the next one again, celebrating with a whoop, but Jungkook goes on a run after that, winning three in a row so they're tied. And once the thirty-second race has been driven, Seokjin has won sixteen, Jungkook has won sixteen, and they've each drunk two bottles of soju apiece.

“TIEBREAKER RACE,” Seokjin slurs, swaying on his feet. He's played the last dozen games standing up, claiming it “helps with the turns,” whatever that means.

“I think you two have had enough,” you say, patting Jungkook lovingly on the arm. “Just call it a tie and leave it there.”

He jerks away, stretching his arm out like he thinks you're going to try and take the controller from him. “No, Y/N! I need that mug!”

Your lips pull down into a frown. “What mug?”

“I think Y/N is right, you guys,” Namjoon chimes in. “You both need some water.”

“Everyone shut the fuck up. I'm trying to sleep,” grumbles the Snuggie blob.

“ONE MORE RACE!” Seokjin yells, insistent. “FOR IT ALL! FOR THE MUG!”

“Again, what mug?”

But you don't get an answer. Instead, Jungkook shouts, “FINE! RAINBOW ROAD, ASSHOLE!” and everyone's eyes fixate on the screen, eager to find out who will emerge victorious.

Both characters rip off the starting line, Seokjin quickly obtaining a mushroom power-up that gives him a speed boost and comfortable lead. But after Jungkook lucks out on a green shell throw, causing Seokjin to spin out of control, he takes the lead as the first lap ends.

“C’mon, babe!” you cheer, Jimin and Taehyung joining in in their desire to see the Kart King tumbled from his throne.

Jungkook holds his lead for most of the lap, but Seokjin takes it back after a couple more mushroom boosts and a red shell. The final lap is tight, the lead going back and forth and back and forth until all hope seems lost as Seokjin begins to pull away on the last leg…

Only for him to cut the final turn too closely, allowing Jungkook to bump him right over the side of the track and into space before blasting across the finish line.

The room erupts in cheers, Jungkook leaping to his feet with a shout even as Seokjin falls to the floor with a scream of anguish. You stand as well, trying to give your boyfriend a hug, but you’re shocked when he moves away from you instead, preoccupied with something on the dining table.

He crosses the room–dodging Jimin and Taehyung, who are now flossing over Seokjin’s prone body–to grab the “WORLD’S BEST WIFE” mug and triumphantly raise it in the air before stumbling back to where you stand both perplexed and amused by the scene before you.

“This,” he says, clumsily pressing the mug into your hands, “was supposed to be for you.”

“World’s Best Wife?” you ask, heart hiccuping as you begin to have a suspicion. “Like Michael Scott’s mug?”

“Yes!” The word feels heavy moving off of his tongue, and he suddenly regrets not being sober for this. “Because uhhhh…I have this for you, too. Shit, wait.”

He fumbles around his pockets, panicking until he finds the ring, slips it out of his pants, and drops to his knee with a graceless thud.

“Ow, crap. Y/N.” He takes your hand, and in spite of the absurdity of it all, in spite of the fact that part of the room is now fawning over you while the other part is either sleeping or on the floor, you feel tears pricking your eyes.

Really, you couldn’t think of a more perfect scene.

“Y/N,” he begins again–slowly, like his words need to be corralled, “I love you. So much. And I know I may sometimes be forgetful or foolish or careless–sometimes I might accidentally spray wine all over the kitchen or ruin a proposal because I gave Seokjin the wrong present by mistake–but I just…love you.” He blinks, thoughts drifting away from him as the soju continues to take its toll. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what I’m saying is even making sense, but…I find I don’t mind having those moments as long as you’re there with me. I’m fine making a fool out of myself if it’ll make you smile or laugh so…” He hoists the ring up just a little higher, eyes hopeful. “Marry me?”

A leaping sensation takes off behind your ribs as you gasp, “Yes, Jungkook. Of course, yes.”

For someone who’s drunk, he surges back up with incredible speed to capture your mouth in a kiss, dragging your body to his and swaying you side-to-side.

“Congratulations, you two,” Yoongi says through the applause of your friends–even Seokjin managing to clap his hands like a seal from the floor. “Now can I please get some fucking sleep?”

a/n: please consider liking, reblogging, or commenting if you enjoyed :)

[ogdegenerate]

I’m back bitches

Werewolf x BAMF Human thingy prt2

I know it’s been 5 months idgaf

Here’s the link for the first part of y’all care

* It’s been a hot minute since your last meeting with the black wolf. And ever since, he won’t leave your thoughts, to your annoyance.

* And annoying it is, you have a bunch of acquaintances, and maybe even some friends, but they don’t really LINGER in your mind once they’re out of sight.

* Maybe you’re just worried for the werewolf? He was badly injured when you first found him.

* Although that would be unlikely, it would take a lot to take down a huge beast like him, and whoever (or whatever) damaged the alpha was most likely dealt with already.

* Maybe the werewolf is still in your thoughts is because of how possibly strong they are?

* You were always the strongest person everybody knew in your hometown. And maybe you’re just not used to someone bigger and conceivably stronger than you.

* And you weren’t very nice when you saw them again, despite everything, you are happy that he’s doing alright.

* But it’s been weeks and the forest is silent, no surprise werewolf interaction or little offering of meat, not even a little hello?

* This shouldn’t bother you, and yet you can’t help but feel…. Bad.

* Maybe a walk would clear up your head.

* Well this is a bizarre turn of events.

* What once was a quick walk into anywhere else but your cabin, transformed into carrying ANOTHER injured werewolf.

* And not just some random werewolf, the BLONDE ONE. With his friends accompanying me back to their village.

* Wherever it is.

* Once you finally got there, you can’t help but feel like you stepped into some sort of fantasy novel.

* With how lively and suspiciously big the place is, you’d figure that you’d accidently wander in here.

* But questions are for future you to ask to a figure in power. This pup needs some first aid and pronto!

* You and the wolves enter into some small building where you see a green wolf with very questionable fashion choices.

* They’re wearing a skull with antlers on their face decorated with owl feathers

* Their cloak and long skirt(?) are made out of various fabrics ranging from so many colors and textures it would give anyone in the art field a NIGHTMARE.

* And there’s a bunch of jewelry and undecipherable runes on their arms and shoulders.

* The green wolf clops (clops????) towards us and takes the badly damaged blondie without even acknowledging my existence.

* Apparently that’s normal for the witch doctor (as the other two stooges call him) to act like that

* I can’t help but notice that the witch doctor is shorter than most werewolves I’ve seen so far.

* Nevertheless the doctor is still well sculpted as much as the other werewolf and they’re still taller than me.

* THERES MAGIC????

* The green wolf stared mixing up from obscure stuff in a flask and splashed it on the blonde wolf, the wounds glowed a mixture of blue and green and shrunken to an unnatural pace.

* The witch doctor says that Fakhr (the name of blondie over here) will be alright but he shouldn’t do any intense for a day or two.

* Before you can even find your voice again, the witch doctor gallops over to the the elephant in the room (you)

* They bombard you with very invasive questions in quick succession, you can’t even answer a single one before the good doctor asks you three more.

* “Are you really a human?” “The same human that can throw an entire tree across the earth?” “How are you so strong?” “Is this an enchantment?” “What kind of enchantment?” “May I have some of your blood?” “How is your relationships with your parents?” “Are THEY human?” “Are you running from someone?” “Is that why you’re living in the forest?” “What’s do you like about the forest?” “You are a male at birth, correct?” “How do you feel about carrying a child?” “It doesn’t matter if you don’t have a uterus, I can figure out something if you’d like?”

* Thankfully, Arda and Rajat (the brown and silver werewolf respectively, thanks Fakhr.) tell the green wolf that you should be really getting back to your cabin.

* And it really isn’t such a bad idea, you are in an unknown place with beings you only figured out existed almost a month ago and they might not have your best interest in mind.

* But you’re feeling petty. You now have a shot at finding a certain black wolf and you might not get a second chance again.

* It takes the three 7 ft wolves a few minutes to get you out of the door of Heka’s (the witch doctor) workplace.

* Fakhr made it very known that it would’ve been much quicker if he wasn’t supposed to be recovering.

* Moving you on dirt is much harder than moving you on wood, your boots are sinking into the ground and pulling you up is like pulling a house by its hinges.

* In an outside perspective, the entire situation may be even comical. Three werewolves, struggling to move a human a little less than 6 feet tall.

* But here you are, rooted into the ground, arms crossed, visibly annoyed. People may mistake you for a statue with how stiff and unbending you are.

* Heka (bless their soul) unintentionally draws up more of an audience by panicking all around you and the three were-stooges.

* The good doctor alternates between nagging at Fakhr for overworking himself, asking you more invasive but reverent questions, and telling the growing crowd to mind their business (but in a professional way).

* The whole scene devolves into the four begging you to just leave before this draws the attention of you-know-who

* What the fuck? What happened to the sun?

* …..oh

* Speak of the devil and he doth appear.

* You don’t know how you end up in the alpha’s house.

* If this even is the alpha’s house, you figured that someone who demands authority would have a much bigger and fancier house???

* I guess vanity isn’t that important with werewolves.

* You managed to save the other wolves gooses from being cooked through the power of conversation.

* And by conversation, it was more like you yelling an earful at the 8 foot beast with too much muscle before they could even get a word in.

* You really should stop doing that, but everytime you see him, you start feeling too many emotions in an overstimulating succession that you might die from thermal-shock.

* But regardless, you finally got what you wanted, some one on one time with the alpha.

* But with you both are sitting, it’s almost feels like being sent to the principal’s office.

* But who’s the one in power and who’s the one in trouble?

* The silence from the alpha would be unnerving if he wasn’t everywhere but you.

* He’s the one who dragged you here (you followed him), do you really need to be the first to strike up conversation?

* You point out the old bandages around his arms and torso, they look like they need to be replaced.

* The black wolf informs you that the bandages are fine and that he’s still wounded.

* Of course you know that’s bullshit because you just left Heka’s place, and they wouldn’t be a good witch doctor if they just left the ALPHA of all people to just heal normally.

* So when you ask if you could see how the wounds are holding up, he looks at you as if you caught them elbow deep in the cookie jar (or I guess the biscuit jar???)

* This is going nowhere, it’s either the bandages or his arms.

* You’re fast, but he’s faster. For someone so bulky, he’s slippery and quick on their feet.

* You waste more time you would like playing cat and mouse with a wolf almost three feet bigger than you.

* As you chase the wolf around the messy house, failing to grasp this giant shadowy figure almost makes you think that this wolf is made out nothing but darkness.

* Fortunately for you, the wolf’s luck runs out as he slips on a piece of paper on the ground.

* Always keep your house tidy, kids!

* Before the wolf could crash onto the ground, you manage to catch him by the torso, securing both of your arms behind his back.

* Now that you got a good hold on him, he’s about as heavy as a reindeer. Must take a lot of skill and energy to prance around like that while carrying so much weight.

* You and the werewolf stay like this for less than a minute, but it feels like eternity.

* You actually manage to make eye contact with the wolf. They look more human than you remember.

* His eyes aren’t glowing as they had when you first met him, but they still shimmer like newly cleaned rubies.

* You can’t help notice that the wolf is holding onto your shoulders, most likely to keep himself up.

* You gently set him down on the floor, you pin both of your knees at his hips so he won’t get away. He doesn’t struggle against you.

* You unwrap the bandages on his write arm, just as you suspected, he’s doing fine.

* You feel about the muscles on his arm, from the FPL, to the bicep, and to the tricep. Everything seems to be in order. His tricep is also fairly big, and he’s not even flexing, you think.

* You move on to the left arm, they’re pretty much symmetrical, both in form and health.

* You move the alpha’s forearm to see how the bicep stretches and squeezes, he must’ve done a lot of chin ups to get arms this big

* Suddenly, the black wolf flexes his arms and his muscles bulges into life, you’re almost taken aback with how big they’ve gotten.

* And they’re hard enough to break Brazil nuts, you can even feel the veins under all of that fur.

* Moving on, you turn to the shoulders and neck, and they’re both broad as the distance between Texas and Thailand.

* You can feel the stress and stiffness in the trapezius, so you might as well massage them while you’re here. Must be taxing work to be an alpha.

* You look up to see the werewolf’s eyes close, mouth slightly open, and tongue peaking out.

* You think you’re doing a great job.

* What seems like minutes passing, you stoped rubbing neck and shoulders and move down to the pectorals

* And what you see before are a pair of giant HAMS.

* Each one of them are bigger than both of your hands, and you thought you had a well developed chest.

* Against your better judgment, you grabbed each one of them by the underpart and pushed up.

* The alpha made a quick gasp at your sudden boldness, feeling like you stepped over a boundary too many, you let go and moved your hands away.

* But then the werewolf grabs your writs and places them back at his chest.

* Well, best not to look at a gift horse in the mouth.

* As you fondle with the wolf’s pecs, you can’t help but to be amazed at how soft yet firm they are, they’re like huge pillows of tense muscle and meat.

* The wolf’s breathing seems to be getting heavier, periodically accompanied by a quiet moan.

* After I finished playing with his pecs, I move even lower to the core.

* It’s hard to see with all of the fur in the way, but you do feel abs, and indeed they are.

* By god you can grate meat on those if there wasn’t so much fur in the way.

* I look at the werewolf, unsure if I should even be doing what I’m thinking of doing.

* He stares back at me with a look of anticipation, as if waiting for me to work my magic on him once more.

* Fuck it, if he wants to bite my face off after this, then I have no regrets.

* I start rubbing on his abs and belly, abandoning all sense and giving into my carnal desires.

* The silent and stoic werewolf is now more loud and vocal than ever.

* He raises his arms over his head, granting me full reign over his body, his head jerks side to side and the sounds coming out of his throat portrays how much he’s enjoying this.

* His groans and moans gets louder and more intense as time goes on, giving attention to his pecs and down to his sides and to his stomach again.

* The both of you are now lost in the moment, you don’t even remember why the two of you even got here in the first place, or what you were even worried about.

* A greedy squeeze on pec had the wolf shout sounds of pure ecstasy, as he thrust his hips upwards.

* That climatic occurrence was just abrupt enough to wake you from your lust filled spell.

* You look around to see what’s happening and what you’re doing and how absolutely insane you’re being.

* The wolf on the other hand was still in a trance, it’s kinda cute and weird that a giant monster could act so puppy like.

* The werewolf slowly opens his eyes and looks up at you, honestly it would be fare that the alpha wouldn’t be so happy to be taken advantaged of.

* “Why…. Did you stop?”

* …..or not.

* You don’t really want to answer that question because then you have to answer why you decided to do… whatever that was, so instead you asked a question of your own.

* “Why didn’t you come and see me?”

* The wolf looked surprised by your response, which then turned into sadness. He turned his muzzle away from you, unable to face you.

* What is even going on??????

* You sigh, and lean towards the wolf

* “Look, I’m not mad, or disappointed. I was just…. Concerned about you.”

* The werewolf looked at you swiftly, and then turn his eyes away. Before you could continue, he speaks.

* “I… didn’t know how to approach you…”

* You… have no idea what that could mean.

* “I felt very bad after I’ve eaten all of your food, you had no pack to turn to or help you out, I feared that you will starve.”

* I guess that makes sense, he was probably very hungry after almost dying, and everything in my kitchen was left unguarded.

* He is still partly a wild animal.

* “When I heard that you chased away my wolves, I almost didn’t believe it. But I wanted to make sure.”

* “I searched far and wide for that boar and killed it so I could give it to you.”

* He really did all of that? That huge mountain of pork? And he dragged it all the way to my cabin?

* “Everyone else thought that I was gonna teach you a lesson for messing with my tribe, they were really surprised when I just came to drop off food for you.”

* “Well, I’m not sure if I would win if we were to fight.”

* “But I don’t want to hurt you!”

* The werewolf sits up from the ground to face you, there’s panic, worry, and sorrow in his eyes.

* You’re taken aback how this stranger is acting very caring towards you.

* “I… well… I-“

* “I don’t want to hurt you either.”

* The werewolf’s ears perk up with your response, the gloomy feelings that once was there are now fading away

* “I don’t know why but I can’t stop thinking about you, and the more I’m not with you, the worse it gets.”

* What are you doing?

* “I never felt like this before, so vulnerable, so scared, so anxious. Especially for someone else who I barely know!”

* You try to reign back your feelings, but they keep flowing out of your mouth.

* “The thought of you getting hurt, the thought of never seeing you again, the thought of there’s someone out there trying to take you away from me… it’s painful. And I just-“

* You look up at the wolf who’s staring at you intently, there’s no malice of or judgement, there’s something else, something just as intense.

* You forgot what you were gonna say next.

* “Today was a long fucking day”

* The absurdity of this entire month finally dawns on you, you were so used to being the strangest person in town, and now you have to deal with werewolves and witchcraft.

* “I’m sorry for chasing you around in your own house

* “I’m sorry for ignoring you”

* “I’m sorry for yelling at you twice infront of your people.”

* “I’m sorry for stealing your food and leaving without saying anything”

* “Hey, in your defense… you were dying.”

* …..

* The both of you burst out laughing, this was a whole mess, you and this werewolf you don’t know the name of are just one big mess.

* “Y’know come to think of it, I didn’t even got your name, yet.”

* The wolf snapped out of their jovial mood and puts his hands on his face. Cute.

* “Fergus the bloody, at your service”

* Now that’s a title for a werewolf, must be an alpha thing.

* “Call me Y/N”

* You and your new friend, Fergus the alpha, smile at eachother as you said your goodbyes.

* And for the first time in forever, you couldn’t wait to him again.

[folkloure]

⭑.ᐟ roomates!pb&jj au

#3 - the one where peter gets a job

summary: peter is having a hard time finding a new job, but refuses any help. johnny is there to terrorise him.

warnings: swear words. i realise now i always make peter swear quite a lot. it’s the new yorker in him. english is not my first language. don’t repost anywhere! you can check for more blurbs in my masterlist!

By the end of the first month, Peter started to grow uneasy.

To be fair, sharing an apartment hasn’t been terribly bad, even with Johnny Storm as part of the package.

Yes, they’d bicker like children, and sometimes yell like children too, and Johnny had the particular ability of turning Peter’s everyday thoughts into a fiery rage, but honestly they haven’t been alone around each other much. They’d barely cross paths in the morning, and always have dinner with Bob and Joaquin. So even though Peter thinks he’s an attention seeker snob, they haven’t killed each other yet, which is a win.

What actually bothered him so much these days was his inability to find a new job. A better job. He had been working as an intern for a software development company for almost a year now, and though he was aware of his great skills and true possibility of actually being hired, he had hopes of getting to work as a chemical engineer, the degree he had fully dedicated himself to for four years of his life.

Except he had been in contact with so many companies now.

“Have you tried that car manufacturi-”

“Yes, all of them.”

Joaquin hums, and sits back on the couch, defeated. He seems to be too deep into coming up with an idea, and to Peter, that’s never a good thing.

“You know I can’t do much in your favour in the company… But you could talk to John—”

“No.”

“Peter…”

“Absolutely not!”

Like he was summoned, Johnny walks into the door, backpack hanging by one shoulder.

“Hey,” Johnny walked past Peter sitting at the kitchen table, fully ignoring his presence, and talked directly to Joaquin. “sorry I couldn’t walk with you. Reed wanted to see me.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Peter and I were just talking about you, though.”

Johnny looks up at Peter, suspiciously.

“Yeah?”

“Yes! We were actually wondering if you think Peter could work at Baxt—”

“Nope.”

“Oh my god, what is up with you both interrupting me? It’s work, for fucks sake! You won’t even work on the same floor!”

“For the record, I said no.” Peter pointed out, like he needed Johnny to know that he also wouldn’t want that.

“Okay, rude. Why wouldn’t you want to work at Baxter?”

“What? But you just said–”

“Anyways, even if I wanted to help, which I don’t–” Johnny turns to Peter, him too making sure his roommate knew of his sour feelings, “I don’t think I could do much. Reed was just talking about being done with interviewing potential new employees. So I guess it’s too late now, bug.”

“Don’t bug me, we’re not friends.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“What do you m–”

“Shut up, both of you!” Joaquin got up from the couch, walking to the door. “My god, you’re so annoying! I can’t deal with that, I’ll see if Bob needs help with dinner.” Then he left, not without slamming the door behind him.

Peter and Johnny looked at each other, just briefly. Deep down both of them knew that they were really tiring Joaquin out with their bickering, but none were willing to bring up the huge, annoyed and sometimes loud elephant in the room. With a shrug, Johnny simply turned his back to Peter and walked into his room.

-

The next week, Peter was going through a different sticky situation: dinner with May and Happy. His aunt came up with the idea of having him come over for dinner at least once a week. Empty nest, she alleged. Sometimes she’d sneak Happy into it too, wanting oh so much for them to get closer.

So much that she was the one to bring up Peter’s haunt for a new job.

“May, I don’t think we have to talk about that.”

“Nonsense! Happy works in a tech company, I’m sure he could help you!”

“Actually…”

“I don’t want anybody’s help!” Peter got up, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed. He feels like he’s just repeating himself now, reliving that same conversation he had with Joaquin and Johnny the previous week. “I don’t know why it's so hard for someone to trust that I don’t need anyone to… to nepotise me!”

“Honey, I don’t think that’s a word–”

“I have a nice resume! Great, even! I don’t need Johnny’s, or Happy’s, or anybody’s help!”

Peter sits back down, huffing. He can hear Happy muttering something along the lines of “who’s Johnny?”, and May just shakes her head, like she’s saying “not now”, and turns to her nephew, gently stroking his now messy hair out of his face.

“Well, that’s a shame…” she gives him a small smile, knowingly. “Cause Happy was just telling me that they want to see you on Monday.”

Peter looks at her, eyes wide open, then at Happy.

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” He smiles, his right hand over his chest. “And I swear I didn’t put in a good word for you, just handed them your great resume.”

Peter feels embarrassed for his outburst now. He gets up again, walking around the dinner table, hands hiding his grin.

“Thank you, Happy…” Peter nods at him, and turns to May, hugging her shoulders “And Aunt May. I guess a little push won’t kill me.”

“Don’t be silly. Sit back and finish your dinner, please.” May points at his half eaten steak, and Peter launches himself at it, suddenly starving. “Now, remind me again which one of your friends is Johnny?”

Peter drops his fork, smirking. He is really fucking glad he won’t have to work with Johnny.

notes: can you believe i had to put off writing this cause i had to do taxes?? hate being an adult. anyways this isn’t my best work imo but we need to keep the plot going!!! things to happen!!! bridges to cross!!! i’m quite excited for the next ones <3 thank you so much for reading!