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barnacles34 · 2 months ago

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Lost in Analysis (Winter x Male OC)

5k words, smut, fluff, happiness, data

Winter x Male OC

The thing about Junho Kim's[1] weekly debriefs with Minjeong Kim was that they followed a precise algorithm, an almost liturgical routine that both participants had wordlessly agreed upon circa Winter's third month of employment (viz. April 2024). The format went as follows: Winter would arrive at exactly 18:30 on Friday bearing a leather-bound portfolio containing the week's logistics reports, margin analyses, and projected Q3/Q4 modeling scenarios. Junho would pretend to study these for exactly twelve minutes while Winter sat in the ergonomic chair across his desk, her accent becoming pronounced in direct proportion to her anxiety level[2].

What happened on this particular Friday deviated from the algorithm in ways that would later prove significant, starting with Winter's arrival at 18:27[3].

"The Busan account numbers are off," Junho said, his photographic memory already detecting a 0.03% discrepancy in the third-quarter projections. The words emerged with the mechanical precision of someone who had learned human speech through technical manuals rather than conversation. "This is—" he paused, index finger tapping against his mahogany desk in a rapidfire motion that Winter had learned to recognize as his pre-explosion tell, "—unacceptable."

And then something unprecedented occurred.

Instead of her usual composed absorption of his critique, Winter's face crumpled into what could only be described as a squeaky whimper, a sound so incongruous with her usual professional demeanor that it seemed to physically stun Junho into silence. It was the acoustic equivalent of watching a Mercedes-Benz hiccup.

The algorithm crashed.

—

[1] Junho Kim, CEO of Quantum Logistics Solutions, net worth $2.3B (₩3.1T), possessed what his former Harvard professors called "an almost frightening capacity for data retention" and what his former therapist (sessions terminated after 2.5 meetings) called "a pathological inability to process emotional bandwidth."

[2] A phenomenon her roommate had dubbed "The Accent Anxiety Index," where her carefully practiced Seoul pronunciation would gradually give way to her native Busan satoori, ranging from barely detectable at Level 1 ("감사합니다") to full coastal at Level 10 ("아이고, 사장님, 이 숫자 영 아니네요").

[3] The 3-minute early arrival would later be explained by a complex series of events involving a broken elevator, two flights of stairs, and Winter's determination not to let her carefully constructed timeline collapse due to mechanical failure.

—

The following Friday's debrief began with Junho actually pulling out Winter's chair[4], a gesture so unexpected that she nearly missed the seat entirely. The portfolio was reviewed. The whiskey was poured (Junho's usual Macallan 25, Winter's Hwayo 41). And then, somewhere between the second and third drink, Winter's accent kicked into what would later be classified as Level 11 on the Southern Comfort Scale.

"You know what your problem is, sajangnim?" Minjeong's words carried the warm weight of soju and suppressed frustration, her carefully maintained Seoul accent dissolving entirely into coastal inflections. "당신은 인생을 마치 스프레드시트처럼 대하시네요. Everything must calculate perfectly, but people aren't numbers, and some of us are tired of being debugged like broken code."

Junho's finger stopped its habitual tapping mid-motion[5].

—

[4] A gesture learned from a WikiHow article titled "Basic Human Courtesy: A Beginner's Guide" that Junho had queued up on his tablet at 3:47 AM the previous Tuesday.

[5] Later analysis would reveal this as the exact moment Junho Kim, master of algorithms and logistics, encountered a variable his photographic memory couldn't process: genuine human connection.[6]

The office fell into a silence that could be measured in heartbeats (Junho's: an efficient 72 BPM; Minjeong's: an elevated 98 BPM). Outside, Seoul's financial district performed its usual Friday night exodus, the sound of departing Mercedes and BMWs creating a capitalistic symphony twenty-three floors below.

"시간이..." Minjeong continued, her Busan accent now operating at what could only be classified as Level 12[7], "Time isn't just money, 사장님. Sometimes it's just... time. Like those lunches you wolf down in exactly eight minutes while reading reports. Or these Friday meetings where you never actually look at me, just through me at some invisible spreadsheet floating in the air behind my head."

Junho's hand, still frozen mid-tap, slowly lowered to the desk. His photographic memory began involuntarily cataloging details it had somehow missed during their previous 47 debriefs: the way Minjeong's left hand always fidgeted with her portfolio's corner when nervous, how her voice carried traces of sea salt and summer festivals despite years of Seoul speech coaching, the fact that she had memorized his coffee preferences down to the precise temperature (81°C, no higher, no lower).

"I do look at you," he said, then immediately registered the statistical improbability of his own response[8].

Minjeong's laugh carried the particular timber of someone who had been holding it in reserve for approximately 11.7 months. "아니요, you really don't. You look at KPIs and performance metrics and quarterly projections. Did you know," she leaned forward, her accent thick as Busan fog, "that I've worn the same earrings every Friday for three months just to see if you'd notice?"

The earrings in question were small silver cranes, Junho's memory instantly supplied, purchased from a street vendor in Gukje Market during last quarter's Busan office inspection, chosen because their wings formed the mathematical symbol for infinity when viewed from the correct angle[9].

—

[6] A concept that would later require Junho to create an entirely new category in his mental filing system, located somewhere between "Acceptable Business Practices" and "Breathing Exercises (Mandatory)."

[7] A previously theoretical level on the Accent Anxiety Index, characterized by the complete abandonment of Seoul linguistic pretense and the emergence of what Minjeong's mother would call "우리 딸의 진짜 목소리" (our daughter's real voice).

[8] Statistical analysis of Junho's daily eye contact patterns, conducted by his personal AI assistant, revealed an average sustained eye contact duration of 1.3 seconds with all employees, making his current 4.7-second gaze at Minjeong a 361.5% deviation from the mean.

[9] A detail that would have impressed Junho greatly had he noticed it at the time of purchase, rather than at this precise moment when his brain was simultaneously trying to process the concept of infinity and the way Minjeong's eyes reflected the city lights like binary code translated into stardust.

—

The Hwayo bottle stood between them like a glass mediator, its contents depleted by exactly 73.4%. Junho found himself performing calculations he had never previously considered necessary: the precise angle at which Minjeong's smile disrupted his cardiac rhythm (42.7°), the correlation coefficient between her proximity and his ability to maintain coherent thought patterns (inverse relationship, R² = 0.97), the half-life of each satoori-tinged syllable in his auditory memory (approaching infinity)[10].

"There's a pojangmacha," Minjeong said, her words now performing linguistic gymnastics between Seoul and Busan, "down in Gangnam that serves 할매's 파전 just like back home. But you—" she gestured with her glass, creating small amber trajectories in the air, "—you probably have the exact caloric content memorized without ever tasting it."

"624 calories per standard serving," Junho confirmed automatically, then added, in what he would later recognize as his first attempt at human humor[11], "Not accounting for 할매's (grandmother’s) love."

The laugh that escaped Minjeong's lips was genuine enough to bypass all of Junho's statistical models for appropriate business interaction. It was the kind of laugh that made him wonder if his entire algorithmic approach to life had been operating on a fundamental error: the assumption that human emotions could be debugged rather than experienced.

"사장님," she said, then caught herself, "아니, Junho-ssi." The honorific shift created a quantifiable disruption in the office's atmospheric pressure[12]. "Do you know why I cry sometimes when you yell about the numbers?"

Junho's hands found themselves attempting to calculate an emotion he had no formula for. "I... have a working hypothesis."

"It's not because I'm scared or hurt," she continued, her Busan accent now wrapping around the words like a warm coast-side breeze. "It's because I see you turning yourself into code, like you're trying to compile a human being into binary, and..." she paused, searching for words in both Seoul and Busan vocabularies before settling on, "...그게 너무 아까워요."

The phrase hung in the air, untranslatable in its full emotional weight[13].

—

[10] A phenomenon that would later require Junho to create an entirely new mathematical framework he privately termed "The Minjeong Constant: Variables in Human Connection."

[11] Later analysis of office security footage would reveal this as his first non-data-related comment in approximately 2,847 hours of recorded business interactions.

[12] Advanced environmental sensors in the building's HVAC system actually recorded a 0.02% change in air pressure at this exact moment, though causation versus correlation remains a subject of debate among the building's maintenance staff.

[13] The closest English approximation might be "it's such a waste," but this fails to capture the uniquely Korean sense of regret for potential beauty lost to unnecessary efficiency, like trying to measure ocean waves in milliliters.

—

For exactly 15.4 seconds, Junho Kim—master of instantaneous data processing, champion of real-time analytics—found himself buffering. His mind, that perfectly calibrated instrument of calculation, attempted to run multiple subroutines simultaneously:

ROUTINE_1: Analyze the 2.3% tremor in Minjeong's voice during "그게 너무 아까워요"

ROUTINE_2: Process the 7.4mm dilation of his pupils upon hearing his given name

ROUTINE_3: Calculate the exact distance between their hands on the desk (23.7cm, decreasing by approximately 0.3mm per heartbeat)

ERROR: Stack overflow in emotional processing unit[14]

"I have a file," he began, then stopped, realizing that perhaps not everything needed to be classified and stored. "No, I mean... I remember every time you've smiled at work. Real smiles, not the ones you use for clients or difficult vendors." His fingers twitched, instinctively seeking a keyboard that wasn't there. "The data suggests that they occur most frequently when you're talking about Busan, or when you think no one is watching you arrange the office plants, or..." he paused, processing, "...or when you're correcting my humanity protocols[15]."

Minjeong's eyes widened, creating what Junho's brain automatically calculated as a 34.6% increase in their reflective surface area. "You... keep track of my smiles?"

"I keep track of everything," he said, then amended, displaying unprecedented runtime flexibility, "but your smiles occupy 43% more memory space than standard data points."

"아이고," Minjeong laughed, the sound carrying hints of sea breezes and noraebang nights, "only you would quantify feelings in percentages and memory allocation, 사장님[16]."

The Hwayo bottle now stood at 82.6% depletion. Outside, Seoul had transformed into its weekend configuration, all neon equations and binary dreams. But inside this office, something unquantifiable was compiling—a program written in neither Python nor Java, but in the ancient code of human connection.

"There's a logical error in your earlier statement," Junho said suddenly, his voice performing calculations it had never been calibrated for. "About me not looking at you."

"Oh?" Minjeong's eyebrow arched at precisely 27 degrees.

"I look at you approximately 2,347 times per day. My peripheral vision activates in your presence with 72% more frequency than baseline. I have memorized exactly 267 variations of your voice modulation between Seoul and Busan registers[17]. The error," he continued, his own accent slipping for the first time since Harvard, "is in assuming I don't see you."

—

[14] A phenomenon his Harvard professors had theoretically predicted but never successfully documented: the complete shutdown of pure logic circuits in favor of what they termed "human.exe."

[15] A private joke that had never made it past his internal firewall until this moment, referring to the way she subtly guided him toward more socially acceptable behaviors, like suggesting he say "good morning" to the cleaning staff or remember team members' birthdays.

[16] The honorific here carrying a new weight, somewhere between professional distance and affectionate teasing, a linguistic quantum state that would have fascinated physicists had they been present to observe it.

[17] This particular statistic would later become the subject of a 3 AM realization that perhaps "normal" CEOs don't maintain such detailed databases of their assistants' vocal patterns.

—

The confession hung in the air with the weight of a misplaced decimal point. Minjeong's hand, still holding her Hwayo glass, trembled at a frequency of approximately 3.2 Hz. The office's automated climate control system registered a sudden 0.7°C spike in local temperature[18].

"그래서..." Minjeong's voice emerged in Pure Pattern #271 (Subcategory: Emotional Breakthrough), "this is why you always know when I've had 떡볶이 for lunch?"

The unexpected query caused Junho to experience what his systems could only classify as a brief moment of runtime joy. "The specific aroma particles adhere to your cardigan at a rate of—" he caught himself, noting the gleam in her eye, and for the first time in recorded history, Junho Kim deliberately chose not to complete a calculation[19].

Instead, he found himself saying, "Your smile increases by exactly 23.7% when you eat 떡볶이. It's... optimal."

"최적화?" Minjeong's laugh carried notes of soju and starlight. "You're really going to data-analyze my happiness levels?"

"I have spreadsheets," he admitted, his voice carrying an unfamiliar warmth that his diagnostic systems struggled to categorize. "Cross-referenced with weather patterns, quarterly reports, and the frequency of your Busan accent emergence[20]."

"아이고..." She shifted in her chair, reducing the distance between them by precisely 4.7 centimeters. "You're either the weirdest or the most romantic person I've ever met, and I haven't decided which yet."

The word 'romantic' created a momentary buffer overflow in Junho's cognitive processes. His hands, typically occupied with calculating profit margins or optimizing supply chains, found themselves drawing abstract patterns on his desk's surface—a behavior previously filed under 'Inefficient Human Gestures: Do Not Engage.'

"I could..." he paused, processing, "...show you the data?"

—

[17] This particular dataset would later be renamed in his personal files to "The Minjeong Codex: A Quantitative Analysis of Qualitative Perfection."

[18] The building's maintenance staff would later attribute this to a mechanical anomaly, unaware they had documented the exact moment Junho Kim's ice-cold corporate facade began its calculated melt.

[19] A moment that would later be marked in his personal development log as "First Successful Implementation of Strategic Data Suppression for Emotional Optimization."

[20] These spreadsheets, discovered months later during a routine server backup, would become legendary among the IT department as "The Love Languages of Linear Regression."

—

Minjeong's eyes sparkled with what Junho's facial recognition protocols quantified as 87% mirth, 13% tenderness. "보여주세요," she said, the soju making her consonants softer, more Busan-bound. "Show me this data about me."

For the first time in his professional career, Junho Kim fumbled with his laptop password[21]. The Hwayo bottle between them had decreased to critical levels, and he found the standard office lights were creating unusual prismatic effects in Minjeong's hair. His fingers, typically precise to the microsecond, skittered across the keyboard.

"See, here's the correlation between your happiness metrics and the proximity to Korean holidays," he began, then stopped, distracted by the way she'd rolled her chair closer to view his screen. The scent of her perfume (도라지 꽃, his brain supplied automatically, though for once the percentage calculation felt irrelevant) mixed with the lingering soju in the air.

"You made a pie chart," she said, her voice warm with something his systems were too buzzed to properly quantify, "of my favorite lunch spots?"

"The data visualization seemed... appropriate," he managed, aware that his usual processing power was operating at diminished capacity. "Though I may have spent a statistically anomalous amount of time color-coding it to match your favorite blazer[22]."

Minjeong's laugh had shed all traces of its Seoul polish. "어머나, who knew the great Junho Kim was such a..." she searched for the word in both dialects before landing on, "...nerd?"

"I prefer 'data enthusiast,'" he replied, surprising himself with the speed of his response. The soju was definitely affecting his standard processing delays. "Though my enthusiasm appears to be... specialized."

"Specialized?" Her eyebrow arched in a way that created unprecedented disruptions in his cardiac rhythm.

"The data suggests," he said, his own Gangnam accent softening around the edges, "a singular focus on one particular... variable[23]."

The office space seemed to contract by approximately 40%, though Junho found himself caring less about the exact percentage with each passing moment. Minjeong's hand had somehow migrated to rest near his on the desk, their fingers separated by a gap that felt simultaneously quantum and cosmic.

—

[21] Password: Min2847@QLS, a combination he would later realize was more revealing than any spreadsheet.

[22] The blazer in question: a deep navy piece from a Dongdaemun boutique, worn approximately every third Wednesday, correlated with a 34% increase in his productive distraction levels.

[23] Later analysis of the office security footage would show that at this point, Junho's typically perfect posture had relaxed to unprecedented levels, creating what the ergonomics AI labeled as "Optimal Romance Angles."

—

"Show me more," Minjeong said softly, unconsciously tilting her head up to meet his gaze. Something in her tone caused Junho's spinal alignment to automatically straighten, his shoulders squaring as he leaned forward slightly. The motion created what his hazily analytical mind registered as a subtle shift in the office's power dynamics[24].

"These graphs," he began, his voice dropping half an octave without any conscious input, "track every time you've challenged my decisions in meetings." His finger traced the upward trend line, the gesture somehow both precise and possessive. "You're the only one who dares to correct my logic. It's... intriguing."

Minjeong's breath caught audibly. "사장님..." she started, then with visible effort, "Junho-ssi... you track even that?"

"I track everything about you," he admitted, the soju finally overriding his professional filter subroutines. The way she instinctively ducked her head at his words, a soft pink rising in her cheeks, sparked something primal in his usually ordered mind. "Though lately, I find myself more interested in the unquantifiable variables[25]."

"Like what?" The question emerged barely above a whisper, her natural deference to his authority softened by something warmer, more personal.

Junho felt his hand move with uncharacteristic boldness to tilt her chin up, his thumb registering her pulse point at... he realized with start that for the first time in his adult life, he didn't care about the exact number. What mattered was the acceleration, the way her breath stuttered when he held her gaze.

"Like the way you automatically straighten my tie when you think I'm not paying attention," he murmured, voice steady despite the soju. "Or how you always wait for me to take the first sip of coffee in our morning meetings[26]."

—

[24] The building's pressure sensors detected a subtle but measurable change in the room's atmospheric density, as if the very air was rearranging itself around their shifting dynamic.

[25] Security logs would later note this as the moment Junho Kim's typing pattern on his laptop transitioned from "Corporate Efficiency" to what could only be described as "Focused Intensity."

[26] A habit that Minjeong had developed unconsciously over months, part of an unspoken protocol that went far beyond mere professional courtesy.

—

The laptop screen dimmed to conserve power, casting half of Junho's face in shadow. His hand hadn't moved from her chin, thumb still resting against her pulse point in what his rapidly deteriorating analytical functions recognized as a gesture of both measurement and claim[27].

"You know what else I've noticed?" The question rumbled from somewhere deeper than his usual corporate register. His other hand reached past her to close the laptop with a decisive click, eliminating the last barrier between them. "You mirror my breathing patterns during long meetings. 호흡이... perfectly synchronized."

Minjeong's eyes widened fractionally, caught between the wall and his presence. "That's..." she swallowed, her professional composure wavering, "...very observant of you, 사장님."

"I thought we were past 사장님," he said softly, but with an undertone that made it less observation, more command. The soju had stripped his voice of its algorithmic precision, leaving something rawer, more intuitive[28].

"Jun...ho..." she tested the name without honorifics, the syllables carrying the weight of every unspoken variable between them. Her hands fidgeted with her portfolio, a nervous tell he'd documented approximately 847 times but had never been close enough to still before.

Until now.

His free hand covered both of hers, instantly calming their movement. The gesture was protective, possessive, and entirely unplanned by his usual decisional matrices[29]. "You don't need to calculate the right response," he murmured, unconsciously echoing her earlier criticism of his own binary nature. "Your instincts have a 99.9% accuracy rate."

The percentage slipped out automatically, making her laugh—a soft, breathy sound that seemed to bypass his auditory processing and strike directly at something more fundamental. Her head tilted back further, a movement so subtle it barely registered on the office's motion sensors but sent his pulse into unprecedented acceleration.

"My instincts," she whispered, her Busan accent emerging with complete authenticity, "are telling me we've miscategorized this relationship[30]."

—

[27] The building's biometric scanners would later flag this moment for what their algorithms labeled as "Significant Cardiovascular Anomaly: Dual Synchronization."

[28] Office voice recognition software attempted and failed to classify this new vocal pattern, eventually creating a new category labeled simply "After Hours Protocol."

[29] The exact pressure of his grip would have registered at precisely 7.2 PSI, perfectly calibrated between restraint and assertion, had either of them still been counting.

[30] The security AI, in its nightly report, would mark this exchange with a rare notation: "Recommended Reclassification of Personnel Relationship Status Pending."

—

"Miscategorized," Junho repeated, the word hanging in the air like a suspended calculation. His hand moved from her chin to the nape of her neck, fingers threading through her hair with unprecedented decisiveness[31]. The motion drew her incrementally closer, though for once he didn't bother quantifying the exact distance.

"yes..." Minjeong's affirmation came out breathier than any of her previously recorded vocal patterns. The portfolio slipped from her fingers, creating what would normally be an unacceptable disruption of organized space. Neither of them moved to retrieve it.

"You know what's interesting?" Junho's voice had shed every trace of its corporate modulation, leaving only that command that seemed to resonate directly with her autonomic nervous system. "I've run approximately 2,847 scenarios of this moment in my head[32]."

Her hands had found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the precise Italian wool of his suit. "And?" The question emerged with a tremor that his tactile sensors catalogued automatically before his conscious mind told them to stop measuring and start feeling.

"None of them..." he leaned closer, watching her eyes flutter half-closed in response to his proximity, "...included the variable of you looking at me exactly like this."

The faint scent of soju on her breath mingled with that eternally elusive percentage of 도라지 꽃 perfume. Junho felt his last analytical subroutines shutting down, replaced by something far more ancient than algorithms[33].

"Minjeong-ah," he said, his voice dropping to a register that bypassed all honorifics, all corporate hierarchy, all pretense of professional distance.

Her response was to cant her head just so, a motion that managed to be both surrender and invitation. "Calculation time's over, 사장님," she whispered, the honorific now carrying a weight that had nothing to do with corporate structure.

—

[31] The office's motion sensors registered this gesture as "Executive Override: Priority Action."

[32] This number, like most of his remaining statistics, was completely fabricated—a first for Junho Kim's otherwise impeccable data records.

[33] Building security cameras would later mark this timestamp with an unprecedented classification: "Critical System Override: Human.exe fully activated."

—

For the first time in his documented existence, Junho Kim stopped calculating entirely.

The distance closed between them with a momentum that defied measurement. His hand tightened in her hair, angling her face upward as his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The kiss, when it came, contained no statistics, no data points, no quantifiable metrics[34].

Minjeong made a soft sound—Pattern #unknown, Category: heaven—against his mouth. Her fingers clutched his suit lapels with enough force to wrinkle the wool beyond its optimal pressed state, a fact that Junho's usually meticulous mind registered and immediately discarded as irrelevant.

Time segmented into a new measurement system: the catch of her breath, the silk of her hair between his fingers, the way she yielded and pressed closer simultaneously. Junho discovered that his organizational skills apparently extended to kissing, each angle adjustment and pressure variation drawing increasingly desperate responses from Minjeong[35].

When they finally broke apart, Minjeong's carefully maintained Seoul pronunciation had disappeared entirely. "아이고..." she breathed against his mouth, "당신이..."

"Initial results," Junho murmured, his own accent thick with something that had nothing to do with regional linguistics, "require extensive further testing[36]."

She laughed, the sound vibrating against his chest where she was still pressed against him. "Did you just turn our first kiss into a quality control protocol?"

"Quality confirmed," he replied, then demonstrated his newfound commitment to hands-on research by kissing her again, harder this time, swallowing her surprised gasp. His hand splayed possessively across her lower back, holding her steady as she swayed into him.

—

[34] The building's atmospheric sensors recorded unexplained fluctuations in local temperature, humidity, and electromagnetic fields, leading to a complete recalibration of their measurement standards.

[35] Later analysis would suggest that Junho's legendary attention to detail had found a new, decidedly non-professional application, though this data remains classified in personal files marked "Private Research: Ongoing."

[36] The security AI attempting to transcribe this conversation eventually gave up and simply tagged the file: "Error 404: Professionalism Not Found."

—

Somewhere in the haze of non-analytical thought, Junho registered Minjeong's slight backward momentum and moved instinctively to steady her. His hand swept the desk clear with uncharacteristic disregard for organizational protocols, sending the quarterly reports flutter-falling to the carpet in an acceptable margin of chaos[37].

"Jun...ho..." His name escaped her lips like a statistical anomaly as he lifted her effortlessly onto the mahogany surface. Her legs parted automatically to accommodate him, skirt hiking up precisely 4.7 inches—the last measurement his brain would process for the foreseeable future.

"So beautiful," he murmured against her throat, the words emerging in pure Gangnam inflection, all pretense of corporate diction abandoned. His teeth grazed her pulse point, drawing a whimper that would require an entirely new classification system[38].

Minjeong's fingers tangled in his precisely styled hair, disrupting approximately 47 minutes of morning grooming routine. "사장님," she gasped, the honorific now carrying entirely different connotations, "the papers..."

"Irrelevant data," he growled, recapturing her mouth with newfound authority. The kiss deepened, transformed, became something that defied all previous parameters. Her back arched into him, creating angles that had nothing to do with geometry and everything to do with instinct[39].

A distant part of his mind registered the soft thud of his suit jacket hitting the floor, followed by the whisper of silk as Minjeong's blazer joined it. The city lights painted silver equations across her skin, codes he suddenly needed to decode with his mouth instead of his mind.

—

[37] The office's normally pristine state would require exactly 23.7 minutes to restore, a task that would be significantly delayed by several subsequent "data collection sessions."

[38] Facial recognition software attempting to analyze the security feed would crash repeatedly, unable to reconcile Junho Kim's expression with any known configuration in its emotional database.

[39] The building's structural integrity sensors registered minor seismic activity, though this data would be suspiciously absent from the next day's maintenance logs.

—

He let his hands trail by the sides of her body, one busy with her torso—breasts and all—and the other, feeling the creamy softness of her thighs. And each needy press or pinch, brought out the softest of her moans, the cutest of her lip quivers.

He was busy, marking her lips, making it all swollen and red; yet, still, he couldn’t get enough of her. That soft body, her caring little hands, her hot inner thighs, and that gentle heat radiating off her core—just hidden by the slightest of her skirt. “Minjeong.” He whispered, pressing himself against her—a matter of teasing and also a way to test the waters, whether or not she wanted it on the table.

And Minjeong, not one to initiate, wrapped her thin arms around his nape, pulling him closer, “Yes, yes, please, anything, anywhere,” then a dozen little kisses all on his face. This assurance, this consent, slowly, but surely, made him wrench her legs open—wide. He saw that stain, dark against her gray underwear, and that was when his photographic memory… failed him.

He dug in, letting his loin press up against hers—immersing himself in her wetness. Then, finally, he pulled down on his pants, showing his tent-like imprint on his underwear to Minjeong, who, obviously, couldn’t stop staring. By the end of the minute, that ruthless minute, both were undressed in their lower-half—a utilitarian instinct to fuck each other as fast as possible.

Junho breathed heavily, staring at that pink hue that her core was so beautifully composed of—along with the wetness, the fragrance, and more. “Minjeong…” He held his shaft, lining it up straight on her wetness. She finally replied, “Yes… Junho…” And that’s when he pressed in, into the endless heat.

That wet connection hilt-to-hilt, along with a deep kiss—turned Minjeong completely docile and submissive. That wet connection, her wet slime covering his shaft, somehow, only intensified their lust for each other. He pressed in again, faster this time, earning that soft mewl. “Mhm, fuck me,” she whispered, again and again. He kept honoring those wishes, going deeper, and faster. He tucked his dick into her pussy, wet squelch and all, over and over until he felt his legs get weak from thrusting. Yet, that weakness didn’t deter him, he glided deeper, letting both their pelvises rub against each other, and making Minjeong cry out from the clit stimulation. She felt like she was getting tunneled, this man, the love of her life, crush of her lifetime, fucking her so good into a wobbly table—dreams aren’t even this good.

“I’m gonna cum, Minjeong.” He whispered, low and growling.

“Inside. Please. Inside…” She whispered before getting overtaken by her orgasm.

And just at the peak of her orgasm, the teetering breath before rest, Junho barreled all his semen inside her—rope after rope of semen splashing against her cervix. “Holy fuck.” they both said in conjunction.

—

The Seoul skyline had shifted into its late-night configuration by the time they finally disentangled themselves. Junho's normally immaculate shirt hung open, his tie having long since joined the scattered papers on the floor. Minjeong's hair had abandoned all pretense of its usual professional arrangement, falling in waves that his fingers couldn't seem to stop threading through[40].

"이게..." Minjeong began, her voice still carrying traces of breathlessness as she surveyed the chaos they'd created. Her blazer lay draped over a chair at an angle that would have horrified their usual professional standards. "I should reorganize the—"

"Stay exactly where you are," Junho commanded softly, his arms tightening around her waist. His usual perfectionism had found a new target: the way she melted against him at that tone[41].

She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, her smile pure Busan sunshine. "데이트하자... be my 오빠?" The question emerged with endearing uncertainty, mixing honorifics and languages in a way that bypassed his brain entirely and struck straight at his heart.

"그래," he murmured into her hair, then with characteristic precision added, "Exclusively."

Her laugh carried notes of joy and residual shyness. "Then as your girlfriend, I should really clean up this mess..." She gestured at the scattered papers, the displaced furniture, the general dishevelment that spoke eloquently of the past hour's activities.

"As your boyfriend," his voice dropped to that commanding register that made her shiver, "I want to watch you do it[42]."

The drive home—his penthouse, by unspoken agreement—required exactly 17 minutes. Neither of them bothered to count.

—

[40] The building's security system would later note this as the longest recorded instance of the CEO remaining in office after hours, though the detailed logs were mysteriously corrupted.

[41] Internal HR protocols regarding workplace relationships were hastily updated the following morning, though no one questioned why the CEO personally oversaw these revisions.

[42] The night cleaning staff would arrive to find the office in unprecedented perfect order, though several employees would later swear they heard laughter and whispered Busan endearments echoing through the empty halls.

Fin

#winter smut #aespa smut #aespa #kpop smut #male oc #female idol #smut

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coqhee · 2 months ago

Text

ETA TO YOUR HEART 𓂃 박성훈

✷ in a fast-paced city, your laid-back life as a receptionist takes a turn when you meet sunghoon, a busy photographer always on the go, making him question whether to keep chasing success or take a chance on love.

photographer sunghoon︲fem reader ︲fluff, angst (sorta), strangers to lovers, city romance, opposites attract, colleague! reader, okokok + lalala dynamic, slow burn, he falls first and harder︲pet names, cursing, grammar errors︲15k / more

2ND EMAIL IN TO: YOUR HEART COLLECTION

─── ♡

you would think PARK SUNGHOON, a world-renowned photographer for his works of the beauty of cityscapes at night, would have an artistic view of life. to slow down a view of life for its beauty—one that encourages slowing down to appreciate beauty. quite the opposite for him though.

one day to another, he’s analyzed what gets people’s emotions going and what photos may move them. as long as he can write the meaning behind his photos well, it’s bound to be successful.

what began as a heartfelt hobby has turned into a rigid 9-to-5 routine, stripping away the passion that once fueled his work.

finally, he’s back in his hometown… for work. what is supposed to only be a year-long contract for his new exhibit in partnership with your gallery, turns out to be an even longer contract to your heart.

when sunghoon sees you, there's no sparks, there's no ‘love at first sight’. it’s just two people meeting for the first time, who happen to be falling in love in their own –patient and impatient– ways.

as you interact, you begin to uncover layers within one another. neither of you is fully aware of the heartstrings being intertwined, but the potential for connection is there.

it’s a slow whirlwind of discovery. both patient and hesitant, you navigate your feelings, each step bringing you closer to an unexpected bond.

sunghoon’s cold exterior slowly starts to thaw. as you share laughter and stories, he begins to show glimpses of warmth.

you realize that maybe he isn’t as unreachable as you once thought. with every interaction, a bond forms, slowly but surely, leading to unexpected possibilities.

─── ♡

sunghoon was exhausted beyond belief. rightfully so–he’s spent the last 6 months in 9 different countries capturing the mesmerizing beauty of cities. the view in each city displaying diverse vibrancy of their cultures through their architecture.

from tokyo, to new york city, istanbul to new delhi…the views were undeniable of their beauty.

while the photos were stunning, the toll on him was undeniable

going city to city at a rate that felt like a blur, he barely even had time to realize that he was thrown into a year-long contract in his hometown. it had only dawned on him at the airport after he had boarded the plane.

whilst his plan originally was to sleep, it seemed it wasn’t an option with his agent texting him not long after.

soobin: to answer your question earlier, yes, you must stay for the full year as per the contract. i thought this exhibition would be fitting for you as it’s your hometown. your works haven’t felt the same and the company thought this would be good for inspiration. [attatchment: 1 image] read 7:41 am

sunghoon sighed, a wave of relief washing over him as he stared at the message. a full year in one place—his hometown, no less. the idea of staying still for a while felt strange, almost foreign, after the constant whirlwind of travel.

his body craved rest, but his mind was still wired, thinking about deadlines, compositions, and the weight of the upcoming exhibit.

landing back home felt strange. the city hadn’t changed much, but it felt different to him now. maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the weight of knowing he couldn’t just hop on the next flight out like he had for the past six months.

it wasn’t that he hated constantly being on the move—he actually thrived in the fast pace, always craving something new and exciting in his life. but this? he was worn out.

so that’s how he came to be standing in front of the new gallery back home having no time to stop home before.

it should’ve felt comfortable, and inviting, but it felt like a whole different world from the building that had stood there before when he was growing up.

“hi! how can i help you?” your voice welcome cutting through the loud air conditioning that had let him space out.

“hi, i think i’m supposed to be the new photographer working with the gallery. my agent, soobin, should have sent over the documents, including the contract,” he said, his tone distant. you noticed the lack of warmth in his voice—it wasn’t rude, but it was reserved, almost detached. still, you brushed it off with a welcoming smile.

“right, yes. your liaison reached out to me about that,” you replied, keeping your voice light. “me and the team were so excited to meet you! lets go meet them?” you motioned for him to follow holding a bright smile, noting his subtle nod in response, and guided him down the hallway to the meeting room where the team was waiting to welcome their new photographer for the year.

sunghoon followed you down the hallway, his eyes flicking around the gallery as they walked. the space was calm, filled with soft echoes of quiet conversation and the faint scent of coffee, and he could almost feel himself unwind in the stillness.

your presence caught his attention again as they led him, weaving through the gallery with a practiced ease. there was something about their calmness and patience that felt oddly magnetic, not even in a romantic way.

for someone who thrived on the thrill of chaos and constant change, seeing someone so comfortable in this kind of tranquility was almost… foreign.

you opened the door to a small room with a meeting table and some chairs surrounding it with people already occupying some.

“here we have jay, who’s going to be your liaison for this project,” you smiled, gesturing to the man who offered a friendly, albeit reserved, smile—warmer than sunghoon’s, at least.

“jake, who’s going to be your assistant, mostly,” you continued, nodding toward the cheerful face beside jay, “so anything you need, just let him know.”

“and lastly, we have minjeong, sunoo, and me, who are going to be your general support team,” you finished, flashing a warm smile. “us 3 directly work with the gallery as our job so we’ll know the most, and we’ll just help with logistics, planning, and anything else you might need,”

sunghoon nodded, taking in each face as he quickly assessed the group. they seemed friendly enough, and even though he was already feeling the weight of this project, the team’s easy-going energy made him feel just a little more at ease.

of course, he couldn’t let down his professional barrier despite the comfortable informal energy in the room.

sunghoon nodded slowly, taking in each face as he mentally sized up the team. it was a lot to remember, but he figured he’d get the hang of it soon enough. his eyes flicked back to you as you continued.

“we’re all really excited to see what you bring to the gallery,” you added, looking around at the others, who nodded in agreement.

jay, added in with a friendly grin. “yeah, we’re here to make your life easier, not harder. whatever you need, we’ve got you.”

jake chimed in, giving sunghoon a nod. “yep, seriously—no request is too small, so don’t be shy about letting us know, even if it’s outside of work bounds,” he winked.

minjeong laughed and nudged him. “okay, but let’s not get carried away—we’re not that generous!” she teased, earning a light slap on the shoulder from sunoo.

“fine, fine,” she relented with a grin, “you can tell us anything. within reason!”

“thank you. i appreciate it,” he finally spoke up still processing the overload of information.

“well, i think we can wrap this up here, i’m sure you’re tired so let’s talk more tomorrow and get some inspiration going, i’ll just get y/n to send me your number later,” jay smiled taking notice of everyone’s mood and how despite how chipper everyone sounded, they were tired.

everyone nodded in agreement, grabbing their bags and leaving the room one by one until it was just you and sunghoon. you both looked around feeling the awkward tension in the air.

“let us know if you need anything at all,” you said with a smile, adjusting your bag on your shoulder before turning to leave.

“um.. i don’t think i have your number,” sunghoon called out, his voice barely above a murmur as he looked down, almost like he was second-guessing whether to speak up.

“oh shoot i completely forgot, here,” you said with a laugh, reaching into your bag. pulling out your phone, you opened your contacts and handed it to him. “just go ahead and put your number in, and i’ll text you so you have mine, too.” he nodded in response and quickly gave back your phone and watched as you turned to leave the room again.

“uh, y/n… wait,” he spoke out once again.

you paused, glancing back over your shoulder and then stepping back into the room, catching his eye. “yeah?” you asked gently, waiting for him to say whatever was on his mind.

sunghoon shifted, his fingers brushing the edge of his bag as he searched for the right words. “thank you… for being so welcoming,” he said, his tone quiet but sincere.

your face softened, and you nodded with a warm smile. “of course. it’s good to have you here, sunghoon,” you replied. “i’ll be around if you need anything, okay?”

he nodded, watching as you disappeared down the hall, the warmth of your kindness lingering with him as he stood there, feeling just a bit more at ease in this unfamiliar place.

he went home that night feeling a sense of completion despite it being a small task, the drive home taking in the cold air from the night.

─── ♡

back at your apartment, you tossed your bag onto the couch, replaying the day’s events in your mind. you couldn’t shake the thought of sunghoon’s demeanor—so distant, almost icy.

you’d met your fair share of artists, some a little standoffish, but something about him felt different. did he hate every second of being there? or worse, was it something about you? had you come off too friendly? too casual?

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “no, it couldn’t be,” you muttered to yourself. it had just been introductions. still, the questions lingered in your mind, stubbornly refusing to quiet.

as much as you hated overthinking, it was a habit that came back all too easily. you’d tried to be warm, welcoming, like always. maybe he was just tired from his travels—jet-lagged, exhausted. yeah, that was probably it, you reassured yourself, though part of you didn’t fully believe it.

the next morning, you walked into the gallery, coffee in hand, ready to start the day. as you set up at the front desk, your eyes wandered toward the hallway leading to the studio space, where sunghoon would likely be working today. you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d look as tired as he did yesterday or if he might be a little more at ease now that he’d had a night to settle in.

“morning!” a cheerful voice snapped you out of your thoughts. you looked up to see jake, grinning as he dropped his bag by the desk. “guess who spent the morning looking for the memory card he left in his jacket pocket?”

you laughed, grateful for the distraction. “niiiice one. was it at least the last jacket you checked?”

he groaned, shaking his head. “third jacket. honestly, it’s like i’m living in a game of hide-and-seek with my stuff.”

before you could respond, the sound of footsteps drew your attention down the hallway. there was sunghoon, camera bag slung over his shoulder, his expression unreadable as he scanned the room. when his eyes met yours, he gave a brief nod—still as reserved as ever.

“good morning, sunghoon,” you called, offering a warm smile.

“morning,” he replied, his tone polite but distant, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit like you were back at square one. but before the familiar spiral of overthinking could start, jay’s voice broke through.

“alrighty i was thinking instead of starting with photos today, we should just do some team bonding,” said jay.

jay said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

you glanced over, amused. “team bonding? i don’t think that was in the contract,” you teased.

jay laughed. “hey, we’re a team for a whole year—might as well get to know each other, right? besides, it’s the best way to break the ice.” he looked pointedly at sunghoon. “especially with some of us who like to keep things, let’s say… professional.”

sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure where this was going. “uh… what exactly did you have in mind?” he asked, cautious but curious.

“don’t worry,” jay said with a reassuring grin. “just a coffee run to start, and then we’ll hang out in the lounge. maybe play some card games or something. nothing intense. just a chance to relax and actually talk to each other as people, not just job titles.”

jake chimed in, looking thrilled. “i’m in! plus, we get to introduce sunghoon to the best coffee in town.”

“come on, sunghoon,” you said, feeling a bit braver now, “just think of it as a warm-up to the year.”

sunghoon hesitated, but he finally gave a small nod. “alright,” he said, a faint smile breaking through. “i’ll give it a shot.”

minjeong pumped her fist in victory, high-fiving sunoo in the process. “that’s what i’m talking about!”

as you all headed out together, you couldn’t help but feel hopeful. maybe, just maybe, this was a step closer to breaking through that cold exterior.

the six of you walked closer to the coffee shop, with lively chatter with sunghoon making little to no contributions to the conversation unless he was called out by name.

honestly, you weren’t sure if he was rude, nervous, tired, or what. it took you by surprise.

meanwhile, sunghoon was quietly taking in the easy camaraderie around him. he wasn’t used to work environments that felt… well, less like work.

it’s not that he hated it either, it was just, different. in a good way, at least for him.

“y/n, sunghoon, why don’t you go get us a table we’ll order for you guys,” sunoo chirped out pulling open the door to the cafe.

“sure thing! just get me the mocha cream latte, hoon, you want anything?” you asked, flashing him a friendly smile.

pause. hoon?

the nickname had slipped out before you even realized it—something you’d been calling him in your head but hadn’t planned to say aloud. you felt a wave of embarrassment, surprised at yourself, while he looked almost unfazed.

“uh, just an americano, thanks,” sunghoon replied, his tone curt but polite, as if the nickname hadn’t thrown him off in the slightest.

sunoo smiled giving a thumbs up, as he continued chatting with the rest of the team, while you and sunghoon went to find an open table.

“sorry if the nickname made you uncomfortable, i won’t call you it if you don’t want me to,” you apologized meekly.

sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his expression softening just a bit. “it’s fine,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “i don’t mind it,”

the unexpected response took you by surprise, and you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a little more at ease. for a moment, his guarded demeanor seemed to fade, replaced by something almost approachable.

“good,” you said, relaxing as you leaned back. “because i didn’t even realize i’d been calling you that in my head until it slipped out.”

shit.

stop talking.

stop saying that you were thinking about him outside of work you freak.

stop word vomiting.

sunghoon chuckled lightly, and for the first time, it felt like a small barrier between you had started to lift, unfazed by you mentioning that you were thinking about him to even have a nickname.

“so, any ideas for the gallery and what you’re going to try to capture this time? i’ve looked at some of your works from your portfolio and it’s an extensive list of cities,”

sunghoon looked up, his gaze softening thoughtfully. “honestly, i’m still working it out,” he admitted, his fingers tracing absent patterns on the table. “i’ve spent so long capturing cityscapes, architecture, the whole atmosphere of a place. but now… i’m starting to wonder if it’s lost its meaning somehow. people say my work feels distant.”

his words surprised you; they were thoughtful, a bit vulnerable even. “so, a new chapter then huh,” you said with a small nod, understanding his new direction. “sounds like a big shift.”

“yeah,” he agreed, the faintest hint of a smile appearing. “new territory. and it feels… strange, honestly,”

there was a quiet pause as you took in his words. “well, if you ever need a guide to get the real feel of the city, or even a coffee break buddy, i’m just at the front desk,” you offered, smiling.

sunghoon met your gaze, and his expression softened for the first time. “thank you,”.

you watched as sunghoon pulled out a paper calendar and quickly scribbled something on the todo list side of it looking satisfied at yourself.

“drinks are here!” minjeong cheered, balancing three cups as she handed you and sunghoon your orders.

“thank you,” you smiled, reaching up to grab the cup from her hands and taking a sip. the hot liquid gold instantly warming your soul with the familiar taste.

“alright, so here’s the idea,” jake said, leaning forward. “jay and i thought we’d visit some of the classic spots around the city to get things going for the first few months, see if anything sparks that inspiration. what do you guys think?” you nodded as he looked around the table, looking for approval.

everyone else nodded, i mean it’s not like anyone else had other plans to get this project kick-started.

sunghoon looked taken aback, not even in an offensive way. “oh, i thought we were going to get to shooting test photos, and get the photos for this gallery done fast,”

“oh cmon, let’s get a good feel for the city, get some quality inspiration,” minjeong piped up. which sunghoon nodded reluctantly.

“great, we’ll start with the arcade today and then work from there,” jay concluded sipping his drink. sunoo looked the most delighted out of everyone there, the arcade being one of his favorite places.

sunghoon, who had been mostly quiet, raised an eyebrow. “an arcade?”

“yep,” sunoo chimed in, practically buzzing. “trust me, it’s the perfect mix of chaos and color. it might actually surprise you. plus, who doesn’t like a little fun between all the serious stuff?”

sunghoon thought for a moment, his expression softening with a glimmer of interest. “alright,” he said finally, “guess it wouldn’t hurt to see what all the fuss is about.”

as everyone finished up their drinks, the energy in the group seemed to pick up, each person eager to shake off the weight of routine and get a fresh start together.

jay cracked a joke, prompting laughs, while jake started a mini debate with sunoo over the best arcade games.

you glanced at sunghoon, who was watching the easy camaraderie with a relaxed expression. he didn’t say much, but you noticed the way he took everything in, like he was warming up to the idea of this more laid-back team dynamic.

with the drinks finished and everyone’s spirits high, you all filed out of the café, ready to kick off the day’s adventure.

as you walked alongside him, you caught sunghoon glancing at you with a faint smile, and for the first time, you felt the start of something different—something unspoken but promising.

─── ♡

“okay, which game first?” sunoo wondered, his eyes wide as he took in the room full of flashing lights and the hum of arcade sounds.

“wait—where did jake and jay go?” minjeong asked, whipping her head around, scanning the noise filled room.

“i think they went to go play some racing game,” you commented recalling watching the two run off like children despite. minjeong rolled her eyes in disappointment and groaned.

“typical,” minjeong muttered, crossing her arms. “leave it to them to ditch us at the first sight of a car game.”

“well, we don’t need them! let’s go play this fishing game,” sunoo exclaimed already making his way over to the machine. the three of you followed sunoo over as he excitedly swiped his card in both spots and patted the seat next to him.

you reluctantly sat down and enjoyed the game with him switching off with minjeong halfway through.

you were getting thirsty however and went to the food court to see whatever drinks they had and maybe some snacks along the way. sunoo seemed excited to continue playing though to which you encouraged, telling him you’d be back shortly.

as you were walking away, you noticed sunghoon following you awkwardly shifting step step.

“didn’t want to play any games?” you asked.

“uh, no not really,” he responded

you nodded, offering him a small smile. "well, maybe you just haven’t found the right game," you teased lightly, hoping to ease some of his quietness.

he chuckled faintly, looking down. "i think i’m more of an observer in places like this. it’s very…lively," he admitted, glancing around at the buzz of the arcade.

you reached the food court, scanning the menu of drinks. "anything catch your eye? i’m thinking maybe a soda… or a lemon slushie if i’m feeling adventurous," you mused, sneaking a glance at him.

sunghoon’s lips curved slightly. "maybe just water. but you should go for the slushie,” he said, eyes glinting a bit. “it seems… you."

surprised by his answer, you chuckled. "oh, you think so?"

he shrugged, an almost smile on his face. "yeah, it’s very bright, like you,"

“oh. thank you,” you weren’t quite sure if you should be flattered or what. you’ve never had someone compare you to…a slushie.

as you fumbled through your pockets, trying to remember where you’d stashed your card, you looked up to find sunghoon already tapping his.

“oh—you didn’t have to do that,” you chuckled softly, surprised but grateful.

he shrugged with a small smile. “it’s nothing. i don’t mind.”

you both found a spot to sit, settling into a quiet moment as you sipped your slushie. your mind wandered over the day’s events, piecing together small moments, a growing familiarity. finally, you broke the silence.

“so, what’s on your calendar?” you asked, hoping to draw him into a conversation.

“whatever you all have planned,” he replied with a faint grin. “i’m just here to take the photos.”

“no, i mean the one you were looking at earlier in the café,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “it looked pretty packed.”

he paused, caught off guard, glancing down. “oh. well… i keep track of things to make time for the important stuff,” he muttered, then looked up, adding a bit sheepishly, “like… i guess, paying you back.”

“paying me back? for what?” you scoffed not seeing any reason to.

his gaze softened, and he seemed to choose his words carefully. “for being… you,”

a beat of silence hung between you. did he realize how much that sounded like more than small talk?

“thank you, i think,” you managed, feeling a blush warm your cheeks. “we should get back, though. i’m almost done with this.”

“right, of course,” he agreed, standing up beside you, his tone quiet but holding a warmth that lingered as you walked back together.

naturally, just as you’d set your mind on one thing, it didn’t take long to get sidetracked. not that you minded; you enjoyed letting life pull you in whatever direction it chose, figuring it was all some twist of fate.

the flashing “$1 per play” sign on a crane machine caught your eye, drawing you in before you even realized, and before you knew it, you were standing at the controls, card swiped, joystick in hand.

among the jumbled colors and shapes, one prize stood out—a small, perfectly plump penguin plush with big, round eyes and tiny flippers folded at its sides, nestled among other plushies, half-buried but calling to you, almost daring you to try your luck.

the atmosphere was so immersive you blocked nearly everything else in the world. it was just you and that stupid little penguin plush. you took a deep breath, adjusting your stance. guiding the joystick forward, you carefully lined up the claw, your eyes focused on that one penguin. its beady eyes seemed to taunt you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thrill of it.

you saw the timer tick down slowly feeling pressured. you hit the red button, watching the claw descend with a soft whirr. it clamped down, and for a second, you thought you’d actually done it. the penguin was in the claw’s grasp, hanging by a thread of fabric, and your heart leapt as the claw lifted it into the air.

feeling excited you watched anticipatorily as it started to bring it over only to drop it, bouncing off the chute.

but hey! you were never one to give up, and so you swiped again. just one more time wouldn't hurt.

and then one more swipe turned into two more.

and then three more.

and then four more.

honestly, you were going to continue swiping until you got it if it weren’t for hoon’s voice breaking your focus.

“are you… sure you want to keep going?” he asked, a slight hesitation in his voice, like he didn’t want to disrupt your focus.

“i have to! i need to get it, it just looks too much like you for me to pass over it,”.

oh.

you weren’t supposed to say THAT much.

“here let me try,” he suggested, as you handed your card for him to swipe.

you watched as he expertly maneuvered the joystick, barely hesitating before pressing the button. the claw dropped, grasping the penguin plush cleanly on the first try, lifting it without a hitch.

he turned to you, holding out the plush with a small, almost smug smile. “here,” he said simply, “guess this one was meant for you.”

“if i’m being honest, i was trying to win it for you,” you admitted, a little defeated. “guess you beat me to it, though.”

sunghoon smiled, a bit unsure. “well, now you’ve got a little something to remember me by… or, you know, this whole project.”

you chuckled, holding up the plush, poking it playfully. “guess i’ll call him hoon jr. real original, huh?”

you gave the plush a gentle squeeze, feeling the soft fabric under your fingers as you took in its tiny stitched eyes and outstretched wings. it was surprisingly comforting, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the quiet warmth of the small gesture.

the flashing arcade lights cast a warm glow around the both of you, creating a rare pause in the day’s chaos.

sunghoon shifted beside you, hands in his pockets, his usual reserved expression softened slightly. the two of you stood there, surrounded by the buzz and hum of the arcade, sharing a moment that felt like it was only meant for you—no cameras, no rush, just the quiet reminder of something a little more than the upcoming work.

─── ♡

the world was changing around him as he knew it. not only the change of leaves falling down and the temperature moving to a frigid feeling, but time itself.

the next couple months were…slow. a lot slower than sunghoon had anticipated. he was used to being on a time crunch.

the calendar he had once been using every day to remind himself of the many little details of his day, week to week was for once blank. only an occasional scribble remained every once in a while.

each week brought a new adventure, like wandering the shorelines on a beach day, toes buried in sand, or hopping from one coffee shop to another, scoring each drink for its flavor and warmth.

you all loved a good thrift hunt too, diving into racks of vintage tees, worn-in jeans, and forgotten books, each item telling a story as unique as the one you were all building together.

sunghoon recalled to how you basically picked a large majority of his new closet from there, smiling cheerfully as you forced him to try on things. he couldn’t lie, he liked your attention.

then there were the farmer’s markets, where you’d stroll through stands bursting with color—bright red strawberries, golden honey, baskets of earthy greens. sunghoon couldn’t deny that the warm pastries, fresh-baked and dusted with sugar, were growing on him.

for sunghoon, it was all foreign territory.

relaxing didn’t come naturally to him—he was used to constant movement, ticking clocks, and deadlines. he’d never lingered over a latte just to talk or sifted through racks at a thrift store for the fun of it.

“i was thinking to wrap up this…research,” jay started. all of you knew you were just friends hanging out til that point, no actual work being done, but hey! team bonding is important. “we should head to the city hall and read up on stuff there,” jay prompted. no one else really had specific plans as you’d already run through the collective to-do list.

you all nodded in agreement, scattering to get to the destination. normally, you’d carpool with minjeong and sunoo, but their car was in the shop for repairs, leaving you in a bit of a bind.

so, after a bit of back-and-forth, you found yourself in sunghoon’s car instead. it wasn’t exactly planned—just the most practical option.

sunghoon was terrified—of everything, it seemed. terrified of facing emotions, of this project, and especially, of you.

he enjoyed your company more than he wanted to admit, yet something about your gaze unsettled him. the way a single look from you could leave his head spinning, his heart pounding. it was unnerving.

he hated how much he liked being near you, how he’d catch himself wanting to stay just a little longer. he hated the way you knew his coffee order, called him ‘hoon’ did all the things coworkers don’t do.

from the way you’d lean over his desk to point out something on his screen, or when you would always run off to make sure he was okay when he split off during your group hangouts then spend the rest of the time with him.

that couldn’t just be friendly colleague behavior, right?

he wasn’t oblivious to the signs of a crush; he just hadn’t expected it to hit him with such intensity.

he wished the situation was clear and he could just tell you he liked you without breaking the very famous rule of “don’t date your co workers”. he wasn’t used to being patient.

“did you know that this city was built on some old guy’s school and farm and they evicted him?” jake asked sorting through files at the city hall.

jake’s voice snapping him out of his little world inside of his head.

“yeah i think i learned that in grade school,” he replied

“oh shit you lived here?” jake asked with amusement upon hearing that.

“i grew up here,” he replied, a hint of nostalgia flashing across his face. “but I moved away when I turned 18. felt like it was time to explore somewhere new,” he added, his gaze drifting momentarily, as though recalling a distant memory.

“we should do some of whatever favorites you have in this city,” minjeong suggested, nudging sunoo to look up from his phone.

sunghoon felt weird. all the attention was on him. of course he’d felt this before when presenting his work, but just having people (friends?) want to pay attention to him and listen to the mundane things he said.

this was personal. they weren’t looking at his work; they were looking at him, hanging on to even the smallest things he said, like they actually wanted to know him.

“um, there’s a small park near the house where i grew up, and a convenience store. nothing interesting really,” he suggested recalling his childhood.

“let’s go then! after we finish cleaning up though…” sunoo trailed off looking to the stack of boxes jay had pulled out for ‘research’.

“it’d be interesting to learn more about your childhood and about you, but if you don’t feel comfortable we don’t have to go,” you replied with a warm smile despite the cold months.

“no it’s fine, i don’t mind,”

and so, there you were, back in sunghoon’s car. the silence felt thick, stretching out between you like an unspoken question, lingering just beyond the reach of words.

the hum of the car’s heating was the only sound, filling the space with a steady warmth, yet doing little to ease the quiet tension.

you shifted in your seat, glancing out the window at the streetlights casting shadows on the road. despite the silence, you couldn’t help but feel that there was something comfortably familiar in it, as if the quiet itself was a language only the two of you could understand.

you stared out the window, but your mind kept drifting back to him. there was something magnetic about his quiet presence, like he filled the car without saying a word.

a part of you wanted to break the silence, to fill it with anything: a random comment, a question, maybe a joke. but you held back, sensing that maybe he didn’t mind the quiet.

still, the silence made you hyperaware of every little thing. the way his fingers tapped on the steering wheel occasionally. the way he’d glance your way, just for a second, then back at the road.

your heart felt annoyingly light, fluttering in a way that made you both want to smile and laugh at yourself. this was so out of character—you weren’t usually nervous around people, especially not people you’d been working with for a while.

you could feel your pulse quicken, and you didn’t know why. it wasn’t like he was doing anything out of the ordinary. just driving. just there, next to you.

each moment felt like it stretched out longer than the last. the silence was oddly comforting, even as it made you restless.

you glanced at him, noticing the way his jaw tightened when he concentrated on the road. it was… distracting. and you scolded yourself for even thinking that.

your fingers tapped your leg lightly, the same rhythm he tapped on the steering wheel. maybe he hadn’t noticed, but part of you hoped he had.

sunghoon wanted to say something, anything, to ease the stillness. but every word he thought of felt silly, or worse, like it meant more than he wanted it to.

“i feel like I should say something… this silence feels too heavy,” he admitted, his voice a little shaky, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

you blinked, surprised, before a small smile crept onto your face. “no, really—it’s fine. i’m just enjoying the quiet,” you assured him, your tone easy, hoping it’d settle whatever tension he was feeling.

“i just… i don’t want the silence to feel uncomfortable,” he said, glancing over quickly before looking back at the road, as if he didn’t want to make too big a deal of it.

you felt a hint of warmth at his thoughtfulness. “i promise, it’s okay,” you replied, voice soft and steady. “sometimes, taking a moment to just… be, to appreciate what’s around us, that’s nice.”

he nodded, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel, and though he still seemed restless, your words seemed to settle something within him.

“don’t get me wrong—i’m not opposed to chatting,” you added with a light laugh. “just curious, though—how long until we get there?” you asked, steering the conversation somewhere new.

“about five minutes, give or take,” he replied with a nod. somewhere beneath the calm tone, he found himself wishing the drive was just a little longer to spend a few more seconds, minutes with you.

after the convenience store run and dropping you back at your apartment, sunghoon thought a lot about what you said.

your calmness toward silence lingered in his mind, a contrast to his urge to fill every pause, every quiet moment, with conversation.

he couldn’t understand how you seemed so at ease with the world, like every second didn’t need to be accounted for. he was used to filling gaps, rushing through silences, yet you just let them be, like every second didn’t need something to prove its worth.

unlocking the door to his own place, he mulled over how, in your company, even the silence hadn’t felt as heavy as he feared.

he wasn’t sure why, but the quiet with you had left him unsettled in a way he hadn’t expected.

─── ♡

sunghoon had felt significantly more comfortable over the next weeks growing more relaxed and talkative, it really seemed the team bonding did it’s job.

he felt more free, less judged to give his opinion.

two months had passed since you sat in sunghoon’s car for the first time. sunghoon’s calendar, still mostly blank, with minimal writing. the minimal writing being small things he’d remember about you, anything you told him really.

your favorite coffee, favorite flowers, hobbies, anything really.

tonight marked the first practice shoot of many, getting a good idea of the potential photos he might want. you sat in sunghoon’s car once again staring out at the city ahead of you from the view, taking in the sight.

from where you sat, the city stretched out below in a vast, glittering sprawl.

the buildings looked like scattered constellations against the night, lights twinkling from windows, and casting a warm glow into the misty evening air.

a gentle haze softened the skyline, blending the sharp edges of skyscrapers into the soft glow of distant streetlights and neon signs.

beside you, sunghoon had his camera in hand, his posture focused yet relaxed as he adjusted the settings, while jake, just to his left, fiddled with the light equipment, focused, no longer showing his joking fun demeanor.

the faint buzz of voices and distant city sounds drifted through the air, grounding the quiet scene around you.

you could hear a few clicks go off subtly, but the sound carried off with the many others in the night.

it was cold, and despite you being in multiple layers, you were still freezing.

wait. why were you out here again?

sunghoon and jake said they had it covered for this practice shoot, and jay, minjeong and sunoo weren’t here, so why were you here?

“nah don’t worry we’ll be okay, you go rest up,” you recalled jake saying when sunghoon and him were discussing where to first shoot at.

it was because you wanted to support them, yes.

or at least support sunghoon in his hard work and dedication.

right?

your mind drifted back to that moment, to the way sunghoon's expression shifted when you told jake it was alright—you wanted to stay, to watch them work.

his smile had softened, curving upward in a way you hadn’t seen before, and his eyes widened, just briefly, like he hadn’t expected you’d actually want to be there.

you never realized how much you liked seeing him smile, but it hit you that you enjoyed being in his warm graces. being the reason he could smile so happily like that.

then it hit you, surrounding all the times he’d show up at the gallery with two cups of coffee, one of his own, and a second of your favorite. it never phased you, but you enjoyed that brief moment in the morning. not just being able to get your favorite drink off the bat, but just seeing him.

maybe it was the way he listened or the silent way he noticed the details in people’s lives. maybe it was the steady calm he carried with him, which felt so opposite to the rush and noise of everyone else.

or maybe it was just the realization that you wanted more of those moments. of him.

you felt a new sort of comfort surrounding you in realizing where your thoughts carried you. it wasn’t scary and you didn’t feel pressured to feel what you did towards him.

it felt natural, and you didn’t mind the pace you were at.

“y/n you should come look at these photos sunghoon took, they’re amazing!” jake called out waving his hand to come look at the photos. you nodded and opened the car door making sure to carry the blanket that kept you warm.

you walked over with a sense of calm in you, feeling at peace for finally being able to sort your thoughts out. jake walked off leaving just you, sunghoon, and a camera.

you hovered over the camera inspecting the beauty captured by it, and comparing it to what you eyes could naturally take in infront of you marveling at the sight.

“these are just. wow. they’re stunning hoon, honestly good enough to be the final shoot,” you joked (not really) at the end. you didn’t have to lie to tell him the beauty they captured.

“thank you, y/n, i appreciate it,” his voice softened despite the frigid temperatures.

“i didn’t realize how much i liked nighttime cityscapes but just wow. you’re really a master at this,” you smiled still awing the photo. you looked up from the camera to find his eyes gazing back into yours studying your every micromovement.

maybe you should have instantly looked away when your eyes made contact, but you didn’t. you held his gaze looking in his eyes admiring the world you could see through them. admiring how you could see his world through them.

you felt yourself drawn in, noticing how his eyes softened in the dim light, catching every detail of your expression as if he were trying to memorize it, too. there was something so unguarded in his gaze that it left you wondering—how often did he let anyone see him this way?

it felt like looking into a world you hadn’t seen before, like a momentary glimpse past the careful walls he usually kept up. maybe that’s what held you, the idea that, through that look, you were somehow let in. you saw the way his guard slipped, even just a little, showing you the warmth and thoughtfulness usually hidden behind his quiet demeanor.

you admired the subtle spark in his eyes that seemed to light up when he was truly present, like he was with you in that moment, unhurried and genuine. there was a sense of closeness in the silence, an understanding that you both held, lingering quietly between you.

and as you held his gaze, it felt like everything around you faded out, like this moment had its own weight, its own depth, unfolding softly between you.

“okay, i loaded it on a different sd card, y/n do you wanna head back in the car to uh..” jake came back holding a laptop, preoccupied, then noticing the distance and the interaction between you and sunghoon.

one quick assessment of the situation and he figured out what was going on, no awkward looks or stutters needed to be said.

“uhh i’ll be over here, sunghoon let me know when you’re good to continue shooting,” he continued on, sitting down on the nearby camper chair with his laptop analyzing the photos.

“nono, i’ll head back to the car, good luck on the rest! show me in the car later!” you cheerfully yipped out, looking away from sunghoon, and briskly walking your way back to the car. his car that is.

as you slumped back into your seat, a strange energy filled you—a quiet buzz that ran beneath your skin. the evening was alive with possibilities, but you forced yourself to hold back, to let things unfold naturally. you reminded yourself not to jump ahead, not to overthink or analyze every look, every lingering silence. things would happen in their own time, you told yourself. let it be.

but even as you repeated the words, you couldn’t fully push away the anticipation thrumming inside you. you knew there was something there, something unspoken but felt. it made you feel like every small moment had meaning—like the way his gaze had softened when he’d caught you looking at him, or the way he waited just a second longer than necessary when he dropped you off, his eyes lingering on yours.

yet, you didn’t want to assume, didn’t want to misstep and make him uncomfortable by wanting more before he was ready. so you settled back, let yourself get lost in the quiet sounds of the night as you tried to quiet the thoughts in your mind.

sunghoon, however, was struggling with restraint of his own. he wanted to reach out, to define whatever this was now instead of letting it drift without a name. he wanted the clarity of a label, a tangible understanding between you both that this was more than just quiet glances and shared coffee.

he tapped his fingers against his side, feeling the impatience gnaw at him. he’d never felt quite this way before—this quiet, constant pull toward someone. he wanted the comfort of knowing where he stood, the simple ease of calling you something more than a friend.

and even though he hesitated, unsure of how to say it or when to bring it up, that impatience lingered, urging him to take a chance.

as you waited in the car, you noticed the signature blue calendar he would carry with him, peaking out from his bag. you knew it was bad to snoop, but it’s just a calendar so what’s the harm?

you recalled how he always kept his calendar so close, almost sacred. he’d never let anyone flip through it casually, and there was something endearing in the way he treated it like his personal vault. but here you were, skimming through its pages, carefully thumbing over each detail he’d meticulously planned, organized, and guarded.

as you moved further back in the year, you noticed how every single corner of the earlier months was packed with events, deadlines, and reminders, all stacked so close together there was barely any blank space. but as you neared the months when your project together began, it was as though the calendar itself had started to breathe. gaps of empty white space dotted each week—untouched, open, flexible.

flip to another week in the same month, where you saw all your favorite things being written down.

y/n favorite coffee, mocha cream y/n fav flower is peonies y/n likes citrus/clean scents

you couldn’t help but smile at these thoughtful details written in his familiar handwriting, an echo of how much attention he must have been paying all along. they weren’t bold or highlighted, no special stars or embellishments around them—just quiet, tucked away in the folds of his otherwise meticulously planned calendar.

you ran your finger over the words, letting yourself take in each small token he’d left behind feeling a warmth rise up in your chest as you took in the silent care embedded in those notes.

gently, you closed the calendar and placed it back in its spot, careful to leave it exactly as you’d found it.

─── ♡

on the drive back to the main city from the quiet outskirts where you’d been practice shooting, the car seemed to grow heavier with each passing mile. jake, sitting in the backseat, could practically feel the tension thickening in the air, a quiet current between you and sunghoon that neither of you seemed eager to break.

sunghoon had grown used to the silence that fell between you two. for someone who once found quiet spaces awkward and uncomfortable, he was starting to see the beauty in it—how, with you, silence didn’t feel empty.

it felt full, a kind of gentle hum that let him think without needing to say a word. he found himself watching the road ahead, but his mind drifted back to your presence beside him, wondering what you were thinking, feeling, if the silence was as comfortable for you as it was slowly becoming for him.

you stopped at the convenience store you stopped as a group months prior and you noticed subtle changes—a few new products, different ads on the walls, small shifts that somehow fit. it felt right though, the change for the store was good.

you wandered down the aisles, the familiar hum of the refrigeration units a soft background to your thoughts. a new brand of energy drink caught your eye, and you grabbed one, smiling as you remembered jake daring sunghoon to down two in a row last time you were all here.

sunghoon moved through the aisles with his usual quiet focus, but tonight, there was a slight hesitance in his steps. you walked a few paces behind, watching as he reached for snacks, glanced over products, but occasionally, you felt his gaze drift back to you. it was subtle, the way he’d glance over his shoulder, his eyes searching for a brief second before he turned away, as if to make sure you were still there.

once, your eyes met, and you felt a quiet pull—a wordless exchange that made you feel more aware of his presence, of the shared space between you. he held your gaze for a moment longer than expected, before he quickly looked away, clearing his throat as he continued on. the warmth lingered, a gentle heat settling in your chest, and you found yourself biting back a smile, wondering if he felt it, too.

it would have been easy to brush off, to tell yourself that it was just a simple look, a fleeting moment. but something about it felt significant, like there was more to it than either of you dared to say. as he continued down the aisle, his steps slowed, and he let the silence hang between you, filled with an awareness that was soft but unignorable.

you followed at his pace, feeling content to exist in this quiet moment together, letting the silence speak for itself. every now and then, he’d glance back, and each time, it felt like a quiet question he wasn’t quite ready to ask.

picking up a bag of chips, you lingered by the checkout, watching as he browsed the candy aisle with a rare, almost childlike curiosity. he finally settled on something, paying without a word and slipping it into his pocket with a subtle smile.

it was eerily silent for what many people would interpret as a group of friends, yet it felt right. the occasional joking comments from jake littered in through the silence, not that you minded.

you had texted sunoo and minjeong to come over despite it being the late hours in the night with the promise of paying for any snacks they wanted to which they happily obliged, and walked in not much longer.

they took sight of the many snacks sprawled across the table, eyes wide. "all this on you?" minjeong asked, surprised by the number of snacks.

"yep," you grinned, waving them over. “go wild.”

what once was silence was filled by cheerful banter between the five of you, while normally not as loud as you would be, you made up for the absence of jay probably being asleep.

you felt a pair of eyes comfortably resting on your figure and as you looked up, you found yourself eye to eye with sunghoon again, your gaze lingering longer than colleagues maybe should

after loading up on snacks, the five of you drifted out of the convenience store, stomachs full and happy, you found yourself back in sunghoon’s car.

as you buckled your seatbelt on you took another look at the peaceful look sunghoon had on his face and he looked back at yours. his gaze softened as he looked at you, and you could see a faint glint of amusement in his eyes.

“what? something on my face?” you asked, a small smile tugging at your lips, trying to break the momentary intensity of the eye contact.

“of course, i’d come out to support you anytime hoon. even after this project is done,” you replied, your voice soft but sincere.

he looked at you, his smile lingering, and for a moment, you could almost feel the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air. “it means a lot, more than you know,” he said quietly, his gaze shifting to the ground for a moment, like he was sorting through something in his head.

you weren’t sure if it was the night, the quiet between you, or the lingering warmth of the convenience store visit, but something about the way he said it made you feel like there was more to that simple thank you. it was the kind of moment that felt small but significant, and for the first time in a while, you couldn’t help but wonder what would come next.

─── ♡

at the next practice shoot, the following month, everyone was there, and you could finally experience what working with each other was like for this project.

jay managing everyone, jake fixated on the lighting, minjeong, sunoo, and you on standby there for support. it seemed all that team bonding was starting to show as you found yourselves in a natural flow, relaxed yet anticipatory.

everyone seemed to be in their right mind, well, except for sunghoon that is.

unbeknownst to you, that convenience store night was all he could think about.

sunghoon adjusted his camera, hands steady but his mind drifting, unable to shake the unease gnawing at him. he tried to stay focused on the familiar rhythm of the shoot, hoping it would ground him, but his thoughts kept slipping back to the night at the convenience store.

he’d replayed every second in his mind—the way you’d looked at him, laughed at something he’d said, your easy smile that seemed to reach just a little deeper. it was as though he was seeing pieces of something beautiful that refused to fall into place.

his eyes drifted back to you, almost as if by habit. it felt like every look you shared lately had its own gravity, a silent language that left him both eager and hesitant. he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something unspoken lingering between you, yet he doubted himself, wondered if he was only imagining it.

he tried to brush it off, focusing instead on the task in front of him, calling out directions and adjusting his camera settings. still, his mind kept circling back, caught in a loop of doubt. every look you gave him seemed to spark a question he couldn’t answer.

were his feelings becoming too obvious? was he stuck waiting for a sign that would never come? each glance between you seemed to hold a promise, yet he was starting to wonder if it was all in his head, if he was simply reaching for something that wasn’t really there.

did you even want this? if you wanted it too why hasn’t anything happened? love should feel like it’s at first sight, that it’s simple and you’ll know right away.

he took a steadying breath and aimed his camera, telling himself that maybe this was just the timing, that things would unfold naturally. still, a part of him ached with impatience, with the desire for things to move forward, to finally break the tension and know where he stood.

in the end, he stayed quiet, capturing moments through his lens, hoping it would be enough to quiet his mind. but as the shoot wore on, he couldn’t help feeling like he was holding his breath, waiting for a moment that kept slipping just out of reach.

everything felt right, so why wasn’t anything happening?

if only you had known, maybe you could’ve said the words necessary to reassure him.

you glanced over at sunghoon, who was adjusting his lens with his usual precision, and couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. lately, you’d noticed how he always seemed to glance back at you, his expression softening in a way that made you feel warm inside.

though, sunghoon was quieter than usual even after all the team bonding and getting used to being around each other. his gaze flickering between his camera and the ground, almost as if he were more focused on his thoughts than on the scene around him.

he seemed hesitant, movements a little more calculated, as if overthinking every small action.

you figured it must be due to the lack of sleep or just something.

it was as if he was unsure of his place—not in the project, but in whatever was building between the two of you. every now and then, you’d catch him watching you from afar, his gaze softer, but by the time you met his eyes, he’d look away quickly, his expression unreadable.

something about it just felt, off. normally, your gazes would linger with each other, intertwining as if they were telling a whole new story in each other’s glances, yet it couldn’t just be because he was tired.

he seemed cautious, like he was holding himself back again. you wondered if he was doubting the connection you thought had been growing, or if he was simply caught up in his own head. it was clear something was pulling him away, a hesitation that hung in the air between you, subtle but undeniable.

whilst you wanted to dwell on the issue further, you figured it could be an off day, you weren’t too concerned with fixing an unfixable issue. life would take it’s course, holding you by the hand wherever it wanted you to be.

you hoped that this principle would hold true even in this time now.

─── ♡

it had been months since the six of you had hung out not doing work related things, ironic as it sounds.

the six of you were gathered at the same cozy café you had frequented so many times before, the familiar chatter of friends filling the air as you each sipped on your drinks. the usual buzz of conversation was present, but today there was something different—a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

it felt like the walls that once existed in the beginning of the project were once built up again.

sunghoon sat across from you, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup absentmindedly, eyes occasionally flicking to you when he thought you weren’t looking. he had been quieter than usual, more distant. you couldn’t pinpoint the reason, but it had been on your mind all week.

you tried to shake it off. maybe he was just tired. maybe it was the pressure of the project, of the looming deadline. but you couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something else was at play.

you took a sip of your coffee hoping to drown out the thoughts that ran through your head.

“so,” jake piped up, breaking the silence that had settled over the group. “anyone up for some impromptu karaoke later? i’ve been dying to belt out some classics.”

minjeong raised an eyebrow. “karaoke? really? you know i can’t sing to save my life.”

“don’t worry, we’ll let you off easy,” jake teased, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “i’m sure sunghoon here would love to join in, right?”

sunghoon’s gaze flickered to jake for a moment before his eyes slid back to his coffee cup. “i’m not really feeling it today,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

you glanced at him, catching his tired eyes before he quickly looked away. it was subtle, but there was an unmistakable shift in his demeanor, one that you couldn’t ignore. it wasn’t like sunghoon to turn down a new experience, even if it scared him. especially when the rest of the group was so lively.

“is everything okay?” you asked softly, your voice gentle, though you could feel the weight of your words hanging in the air. you didn’t want to push him, but you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

sunghoon tensed for a brief moment, as though your question had caught him off guard. he hesitated, clearly unsure of how to respond. “yeah, everything’s fine,” he said finally, offering a half-hearted smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “just… tired, i guess.”

you nodded, but the unease in the pit of your stomach refused to settle. there was more to it than that. you could sense it, the way he kept his distance, the way his smiles no longer carried the same warmth. something was off, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was connected to you.

“come on, let’s not ruin the vibe,” minjeong interjected, her voice light and playful. “let’s focus on something fun. anyone want to plan our next outing?”

but sunghoon wasn’t really listening anymore. his focus was elsewhere, distant, as though his mind was a million miles away. you caught him glancing at his phone once, then again, but when you looked, he quickly put it down, his fingers tapping restlessly on the table.

it was obvious that his thoughts were elsewhere, and it made you feel like you were walking on eggshells around him. you hated this—this space between you both. it wasn’t like the easy banter you were used to, the comfortable silence you could share without it feeling heavy.

you shifted in your seat, your gaze dropping to your drink. you tried to focus on the conversation, on the lighthearted chatter between sunoo and jake, but your thoughts kept drifting back to sunghoon.

was he upset with you? was something wrong with the project? or maybe—just maybe—he was pulling away because of something more. something you couldn’t quite understand.

“i think i’m gonna head out soon,” sunghoon said suddenly, his voice breaking through your spiraling thoughts. “got some stuff to take care of, old projects”

the group looked up, surprised by his abrupt announcement. you didn’t want to let him leave like this, not with the tension hanging in the air. but you didn’t want to push him either.

“are you sure?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

sunghoon looked at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. then, he nodded. “yeah. i’ll see you guys later.”

with that, he stood up and made his way toward the door, leaving the table behind him. the remaining five of you exchanged glances, a sense of confusion settling over the group. you could hear the murmur of voices, but none of it really reached you. your mind was fixed on sunghoon’s retreating figure.

“he’s been like this for a while now,” jake said, his tone quieter than usual. “i don’t think it’s just the project.”

you swallowed, trying to push down the growing anxiety in your chest. “what do you mean?”

jake shrugged, glancing over at sunghoon’s empty seat. “he’s been distant, you know? like he’s in his head too much. he wasn’t always like this.”

you nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. your gaze wandered to the door where sunghoon had just exited. was he pulling away from everyone? or was it just you? the thought gnawed at you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt uncertain.

you wanted to help him, to break through whatever wall he had built around himself. but you didn’t know how.

“don’t worry about it,” minjeong said, her voice soft as she noticed the way you were biting your lip in thought. “he’ll figure it out.”

you hoped so. but deep down, you weren’t so sure. you wanted to continue whatever thing you had going on, but weren’t sure if it was possible to return to that small state of bliss between the two of you. possible to return to that same state where you’d gaze into each other's eyes finding a potential lifetime in them.

─── ♡

the first day of final shootings arose sooner than he would’ve hoped. it was a month since he last saw you and the coffee shop, spending most of his time with jake and jay away from the gallery.

sunghoon stood on the top of the hill, camera in hand, staring out at the city below. the night stretched endlessly, thick with clouds, the city lights shimmering in the distance, blurred by a soft drizzle that seemed to hang in the air, casting a haze over everything, nothing to what the first practice shoot felt like.

jay and jake stood off to the side, adjusting the lighting, keeping their voices low, perhaps sensing the tension rolling off him. sunghoon took in a sharp breath, the cold air burning slightly as he tried to focus on something other than the gnawing frustration in his chest.

his mind wandered back to you, to the way you’d once stood beside him on pratice shoot nights. your eyes bright with excitement, seeing something in each scene that he’d often missed. he thought of how you’d nudge him, urging him to experiment, to capture things in ways he hadn’t thought of. you’d brought a sense of ease, of natural rhythm, to his work.

now, without you, he felt like he was grasping at fragments of inspiration, his usual confidence slipping away.

“hey, sunghoon, maybe we should take a break?” jake suggested gently, sensing his growing frustration. “it’s still early. we’ve got time, we can grab a bite to eat then come back,”

“no, it’s fine, i’m just, thinking,” sunghoon replied back in a tone harsher than he intended.

sunghoon watched as jake blinked, slightly taken aback, and jay cast him a cautious look, but they both kept their distance, knowing better than to push him. he turned away, gripping his camera tightly, frustrated with himself for snapping at jake. it wasn’t their fault he couldn’t settle into the rhythm of this shoot; they were only trying to help.

“sorry,” sunghoon mumbled out. “i didn’t mean to come off that way i’ve just been stressed,”

the two nodded in acceptance and brushed it off, they knew better than to get hurt by words from a confused man.

he closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself settle into the familiar sounds of the city below, trying to reconnect with something beyond his frustration. he felt jake’s concerned gaze, sensed jay hovering nearby, but they didn’t say anything, and somehow, the quiet felt heavier than before.

to sunghoon’s disappointment, jay called it a night there sensing how sunghoon needed time to process whatever he was going through. they didn’t have much time, but any was better than none.

sunghoon was was in a slump. he came to the conclusion that him and you were just not meant to be. as much as he’d love to just drown out his emotions with another batch of meaningless unsentimental photos he had a job to do.

he thought about how slowly things had built between you two, how gentle it all was—like a quiet warmth that crept up over time. but it wasn’t love at first sight. it hadn’t been some dizzying, head-spinning whirlwind. and now, that absence haunted him.

maybe he was wrong to let himself care like this, he thought, feeling the weight of it all press down on him. maybe he’d misread the signals, mistaken something comfortable for something more. if it was real, shouldn’t it have been electric from the start?

he leaned his head back, sighing as he let the doubt settle in. he searched for reasons, for something to explain the ache he felt, for why he couldn’t shake this longing for you even now. he wanted to believe it was enough—the quiet way he’d come to care, the steady rhythm of falling for you. but as the night grew still, so did his doubts.

feeling impatient and irritated he pondered what was next after this project?

go back to the busy photography life of visiting a multitude of countries in a short span to take photos that held zero meaning to him?

it only fueled his reasoning that it wasn’t meant to be.

while he may not have enjoyed it, that was his life, taking photos, what else was he going to do?

as he set up his camera for a second attempt, with jake once helping with lights and jay helping to make sure everything ran well.

though, it didn’t quite feel the same as all his other photography shoots. instead of a clear sky with stars shining bright and a perfect bustling city, it was…imperfect.

instead of the crystal-clear sky he’d planned for, filled with stars, the sky was murky, blanketed by thick clouds that blotted out the moonlight. the city below was drenched, its usual dullness covered by the rain that pooled in the gutters and slicked the sidewalks, leaving everything looking worn and tired.

as sunghoon set up his camera, adjusting the settings and squinting through the viewfinder, he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was off. jake held up the lights beside him, fighting the rain that made it all ten times harder.

he frowned, feeling the tug of irritation, every part of him wanting to pack up his equipment and call it a night. he didn’t want this—the blurred lines, the washed-out colors, the way it all felt messier than he’d envisioned. it was nothing like the polished image he’d had in his head.

jay, sensing sunghoon’s frustration, clapped him on the shoulder, leaning in so his words wouldn’t get lost in the noise of the rain. “just give it a chance. wait it out the rain maybe, and then we can get the perfect shot,”

and that’s when it hit him.

his city was just perfectly imperfect.

it wasn’t what he’d expected. it wasn’t his ideal vision, but it was real. raw. flawed in a way that felt unexpectedly compelling.

he raised his camera again, eyes focusing through the lens as he let go of the need for perfection, ready to capture something true, something that told a story all its own.

as the camera shuttered, he felt a sense of excitement wash over him. the feeling of taking photos for his enjoyment rushing back as he snapped each photo.

“these photos are gonna be kinda…drabby, to say the least. a bunch of editing is gonna be needed, but we can work with this,” jake contested feeling unsure of sunghoon’s bold confidence as he smiled back to jake with a huge grin.

“this whole week is raining too sunghoon, so either next week or today if you don’t like the photos, but we’re on a time crunch,” jay called from the tent shielding him from the rain.

sunghoon shook his head with a wave of confidence, “no, i think i like these photos a lot. they feel very, personal i guess you could say,”

jake raised an eyebrow, glancing over at sunghoon with a hint of surprise. “really? didn’t think you’d go for something so… unfiltered,” he said, half-smiling.

sunghoon chuckled, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “yeah, neither did i,” he admitted, glancing down at the screen where the captured images glowed back at him. “but there’s something about the imperfections that feels more… real, like it’s not just another shot of a pretty city.”

as he stared down at the candid, rain-soaked cityscape on his camera screen, sunghoon felt something shift inside him. he thought back to his relationship with you with the new perspective.

he’d expected a flawless, cinematic romance—the kind where everything fell neatly into place from the start, where feelings were undeniable and immediate. but maybe love wasn’t that way. maybe it wasn’t about some grand, sweeping declaration or the way his heart skipped a beat at the first sight of you.

his fingers hovered over the camera, tracing the edges of the image displayed there. the shot was far from perfect—the rain blurred the streetlights, and the shadows of people passing were smudged into streaks across the pavement.

he thought of you again, the way you always let things unfold as they were, never rushing or trying to force anything. that patience, that acceptance of things as they came, was something he was beginning to understand.

he’d wanted so badly for everything to be clear-cut, to know exactly where he stood with you, exactly what every glance and word meant. but now, he was starting to see the beauty in letting things grow in their own time.

sometimes being impatient for the unknown was okay. not knowing what comes next is part of the journey and excitement.

he excitedly took photos throughout the city with a new found perspective, letting the wind take him.

─── ♡

the date for the gallery was finally set, and the buzz around it was impossible to ignore. posters were up around campus, social media posts were popping off with previews, and it felt like everything was falling into place just right.

you’d been in constant contact with minjeong and sunoo, coordinating each little detail, answering questions, adjusting plans to fit sunghoon’s vision as closely as possible. there was a quiet pride in watching it all come together, a satisfaction in knowing your work had paid off in ways you hadn’t fully anticipated.

there was a quiet pride in watching it all come together, a satisfaction in knowing your work had paid off in ways you hadn’t fully anticipated.

the gallery had drawn more attention than expected—people genuinely seemed excited about it. every time you checked in with sunoo, he had new numbers to share about the online engagement, and minjeong kept you updated on event interest lists, which were growing every day.

it was overwhelming to say the least, but you took pride in the end project.

you wondered if sunghoon knew just how much excitement surrounded his work, if he’d noticed the attention or if he was too deep into perfecting the last shots for the exhibit to realize how much time and effort had been tumped in.

a small part of you wondered if he’d thought about you at all in the last month. it had been weeks since that night at the convenience store, that easy warmth you’d felt lingering between you two somehow.

since then, things had gone quiet, slipping into routine, and you’d buried yourself in coordinating every detail of this launch. but even as the work kept you busy, thoughts of him still crept in, unbidden and frequent. there was something there that was hard to define—an almost friendship, maybe more. whatever it was, you hoped it hadn’t faded while he’d been away.

you wanted to reach out to him, tell him you were just a chat away from talking about everything. any worries about anything.

on the day of the final walkthrough, you stepped into the gallery a little earlier, wanting a chance to look around before the crowd arrived. the walls were lined with his shots, each one telling its own story, each one imbued with a little more of him than you’d expected.

his work felt personal, almost like glimpses into a side of him you hadn’t seen before.

you lingered in front of one of the photos, a candid shot of the cityscape under an overcast sky, rain blurring the edges. it was imperfect but striking, raw and beautiful in its own way. you felt a sense of quiet pride for him and his work.

it was obvious he’d poured himself into this project, and now, standing here in the gallery, surrounded by pieces of his world, you understood a little more of what he’d been chasing after.

but as you were looking through all the pieces you noticed something different. it wasn’t just cityscapes this time.

as your eyes wandered along the gallery walls, familiar scenes began to emerge, each one tugging you back to a moment you’d almost forgotten.

first, there was the convenience store, washed in soft, nostalgic hues. the aisles looked the same as they had that night, but the way he’d captured it felt almost dreamlike. the colors seemed warmer, more inviting. you could almost hear the quiet hum of the refrigerators, the faint rustle of snack bags, and the soft, comforting silence that had filled the air between you.

your gaze drifted to the next photo—a snapshots of the arcade. it was chaotic yet somehow inviting, as though he’d captured a slice of that unfiltered joy you’d felt there. the image focused on the crane machine, its glass glowing under neon light. the sight vividly reminding you of the two of you laughing and cheering each other on as you attempted, over and over, to win a plush toy. the energy was so vibrant, it almost felt like you were back in that moment, playfully trying over and over again for sunghoon jr.

then your eyes fell upon a final image that caught you off guard. it was of a small receipt taped to a window, the ink faded, but clear enough to make out a single line item—your favorite coffee order. the shot was so simple, yet intimate, as if he’d captured a little piece of you in that slip of paper. in this photo, you could feel his attention to detail, his desire to remember even the small things.

a quiet realization settled over you as you looked at these photos, each one woven with memories of your time together. you’d thought you were simply there to support him, but here in this gallery, with his work all around you, it felt like you were somehow a part of it, a part of him.

as the time ticked closer to the opening, you spotted sunghoon entering quietly, his gaze sweeping across the room, an unreadable expression on his face. when his eyes landed on you, he gave a small nod, something tentative in his gaze. your heart gave a small leap, a reminder of everything unspoken, every quiet look and lingering moment.

you smiled at him, a silent acknowledgment of all the work that had led you both here. whatever the night would bring, you were glad to be here, a part of this world he’d built.

“do.. you like it?” sunghoon asked nervously, awaiting your opinion. after the inspiration had hit him that it was okay for things to take his time, he found himself being pulled to all the key moments that developed the relationship between you two.

"like it? no, i love it, hoon. it feels so… real," you said softly, a gentle smile spreading across your face as you looked back at him.

sunghoon’s eyes flickered to yours, and for a moment, something unspoken hung in the air between you. he hesitated, his gaze searching your expression as though he were trying to see if you meant it—if you truly saw what he’d poured into each frame.

"i wanted it to be… more than just photos," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, almost as if he was confessing something he hadn’t fully realized himself. "more than just places. places that reminded me of you,"

you nodded, understanding settling over you as you took in his work again, feeling the weight and warmth of every captured moment. life was finally taking its course again.

sunghoon felt at peace letting fate take the reigns of his life, it felt peaceful not having to worry and make life fit to your time.

─── ♡

“PARK SUNGHOON: HEART OF THE CITY” is what was plastered on the billboards everywhere in the city, social media, everywhere.

opening day of the new exhibit quickly arose with the gallery completely booked out with admission tickets to see the classic perfection of beauty from one of the world’s most renowned and skilled photographers.

sunghoon’s work hung along the walls, each photograph telling a story that felt intimate yet universal. it was almost surreal, seeing the spaces that had once been mere fragments of his ideas now filling the room, carrying the weight of so many moments he had captured over the last few months. you felt like each photo held something personal—a glimpse into his world.

your mind kept drifting to sunghoon. would he be pleased with the way everything had turned out? would he see what everyone else seemed to—the raw beauty and sincerity of his vision?

with doors officially opened, a steady flow of visitors began walking through, filling up the main room anticipating sunghoon’s opening speech.

jay started off with introducing sunghoon with a brief overview, going into detail about the city’s history and sunghoon’s connection, and as that fastly came to a close, you from behind as sunghoon took the microphone from jay’s hand and began.

he was more nervous from ever. doing the opening speech wasn’t the hard part, but with you watching, it scared him even more. he recalled back to letting life take him by the hand and talk freely letting the words fall out of his mouth.

“thank you so much for being here this morning, i appreciate each and everyone of you who came out, this project couldn’t have been done without my amazing team, jay, jake, minjeong, sunoo, and y/n,” he paused, his gaze shifting to each of you, lingering just a second longer when his eyes met yours.

you felt your cheeks turn a rosy pink at the mention of your name. you felt your cheeks turn a soft shade of pink at the mention of your name. standing there, surrounded by the work you’d all brought to life, the warmth that spread through you was undeniable.

“this work is definitely some of the most personal and dear to me, and i had the chance to have my inspiration for these pieces work alongside me,” he continued on. his eyes flickered back to you as he said it, a subtle but unmistakable acknowledgment. “these pieces will differ from my past works, as it includes photography of not just cities, but the life within them, and the love i’ve found in the city,”

a murmur spread through the crowd, people glancing at you with quiet smiles, but all you could focus on was him. the way his words seemed to reach you across the room, folding the world down to just the two of you.

as his speech concluded and the crowd broke into applause, you found yourself wondering if he knew just how much he had inspired you too. sunghoon gave a modest smile, but his eyes held a depth, a gratitude, and something else that you couldn’t quite put into words.

as the crowd split off to see the works plastered on the walls, some lingered in front of certain images, whispering to each other with appreciative nods, while others stood in awe, studying each detail. every so often, you caught snippets of their murmurs: “this one feels so real, doesn’t it?” or “you can almost feel the moment in this.”

the positive reactions settled some of your nerves, and a small smile formed as you saw sunghoon's work finally receiving the admiration it deserved.

amidst the crowd, you spotted him—sunghoon, standing quietly to the side, his gaze drifting from one photograph to another. his usual air of quiet confidence seemed tinged with something softer today, almost like he, too, was letting himself be vulnerable among his own work. you couldn’t resist walking over, weaving through the guests until you reached him.

“sunghoon,” you whispered, a warmth spreading in your chest. “they love it. look around. you did it.”

he turned to you, a flicker of something gentle in his expression as he took in your words. “i couldn’t have done it without you,” he replied, the depth in his voice making your heart flutter.

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “no, this is all you. i’m just lucky i got to witness it up close.”

"you. you were the inspiration," he said softly, his gaze holding yours with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. his fingers found yours, interlocking them together gently. “i don’t want to rush it, but it feels right, you and me,” he continued, his voice a quiet confession that was both vulnerable and certain.

you felt your chest warm, a delicate reassurance flooding through you as you squeezed his hand. “hoon, i…” you trailed off, searching for the right words, realizing that he already knew. he could see it in the way you looked at him, the way you stayed close.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. “i just wanted you to know, and thank you for waiting so patiently,” his words were soft, thoughtful, as if he understood all the unspoken things you felt, as if he had been waiting just as patiently as you.

“i like you too hoon. like a lot a lot,” you giggled with a smile falling over your face. “i don’t know where this will lead,” you continued, feeling an odd mix of certainty and excitement, “but i’m ready to see where it goes. with you.”

the time it took to your heart might’ve been a while, but it was worth every second. love doesn’t happen fast, but when it does, it’s a wonderful beautiful thing.

his eyes softened, and he squeezed your hand in return, a silent promise in that touch, a reassurance that this was only the beginning.

─── ♡

the weekend after the exhibit opened, you and sunghoon decided on your first official date. it felt surreal, standing there with him in a different light—not as colleagues, not as friends, but something warmer, something that hinted at possibilities.

sunghoon picked the same café, cozy and tucked away, with large windows and low-lit ambiance that felt as comforting as a well-kept secret. as you settled into your seats, ordering your favorite coffee, that felt more like old friends than drinks, he glanced at you with a mixture of hesitation and excitement, a rare vulnerability in his usually steady gaze.

“there’s something i should probably tell you,” he started, a faint smile tugging at his lips, looking almost as though he were admitting a long-held secret.

you tilted your head, curiosity sparking in your eyes, though you had a feeling you already knew what was coming. “go on,” you encouraged, a playful smile creeping up on your face.

he looked away for a moment, almost sheepish. “the calendar,” he said, his fingers tapping the table, “i started keeping track of… well, of things about you. your favorite things, places you liked going… i mean, it was probably overboard—”

you couldn’t help but smile, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “sunghoon,” you interrupted softly, “i already knew, i might have taken a peak in the car during the first practice shoot,” you giggled feeding him a bite of the coffee cake you had also ordered.

he exhaled, relief washing over him, the tension in his shoulders relaxing. “i was terrified you’d find it strange or overbearing.”

“not at all,” you assured, squeezing his hand. “if anything, it felt nice. it felt… real.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke, letting the quiet comfort of the café fill the silence between you. sunghoon’s fingers intertwined with yours, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, as if he were memorizing every detail, just like those careful notes in his calendar.

he grinned, clearly pleased, and you both leaned into that moment, the knowledge of each other’s hidden care coming into the open, like the first step in something neither of you could wait to see unfold.

“what’s the plan now that the contract is basically up?” you asked a wave of unsurety washed over you. a moment of peace, but you were reminded he still had a job to do.

“i think i’m going to take a break, see where life takes me, hopefully with you,” he hummed out in response.

you nodded, the weight of his words sinking in slowly, and a quiet smile spread across your face. here you were, together at last, and he was already speaking as if this—whatever this was—was just the beginning.

“you’re sure?” you asked, voice almost a whisper.

sunghoon’s eyes softened, the confidence of his words melting away any trace of doubt. “i don’t think i’ve been surer about anything else,” he murmured, meeting your gaze with steady warmth. “i’ve spent so long capturing moments, freezing them in time… but with you, i want to be present for whatever comes next.”

while it was fun traveling to different countries, it’s not like he got to really experience them like he experienced the city he once called home. form a bond with the city. experience forming a bond with you.

you felt that same warmth wash over you, grounding you in the reality of his presence. a presence that had once felt distant, but was now unmistakably here, lingering in every breath, every glance, every small, silent gesture.

“i like the sound of that,” you replied, unable to help the way your smile deepened. “guess it’s a good thing you took such careful notes about me,” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

he laughed, shaking his head. “all those notes… they didn’t even scratch the surface.”

you felt a flutter in your chest, a feeling that settled somewhere deep and familiar, one that whispered to you that everything was finally falling into place.

as you stood together in that moment, time seemed to stretch, just like one of sunghoon’s photographs. you knew there’d be more moments like this, moments where nothing needed to be said, and everything felt perfectly imperfect, just as it was.

“so, where do we go from here?” you asked, looking at him with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

“anywhere,” he replied, squeezing your hand gently, “as long as it’s with you.”

you knew then that whatever path lay ahead, it was one you’d face together.

─── ♡

a/n: sunghoon's version of to: your heart!!! everyone cheered (me). happy belated birthday to jake ? (I have terrible timing and I should've written his first than do sunghoon's). make sure to SMASH that like button, but in all seriousness all likes, reblogs, and comments are deeply appreciated!! unrelated but thank you to sav for indirectly reminding me to write this by mentioning this like once in a convo LMAO. hope you all enjoyed !! ><

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ethosiab · 22 days ago

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we've been here before, 5 or 6 times

Etho and Tango hang out. A new game is soon to begin, so they talk.

They find it’s not exactly a matter of if they’ll join, but how soon.

beta read by @silliest-sideblog and partially inspired by these fics by @oh-snapperss

(read on ao3)

----------------

When they receive the message, Etho and Tango are hanging out in their corner of the shopping district, in the bowels of Ravager Rush. Sheets of paper are scattered about everywhere at Etho’s feet where he’s sat sifting through them.

They could have chosen a better spot to be doing this, but hey! If Etho gets an epiphany about one of the numerous bugs he’s been dealing with since deciding to rework the scoring system, the game is right there. It wouldn’t be the first time one of them has abandoned the other on one of their so-called ‘dates’ to fix a redstone issue.

(Pearl likes to call it that- a date. Even though neither of them are really interested in that sort of thing, and they spend the whole time barely saying a few words to each other, content to work on their own projects as long as the other is nearby. They don’t really mind it though, so maybe Pearl’s onto something when she says it.)

Etho flips through a stack of pages, each scribbled with notes, ideas, and small diagrams that he’s jotted down quickly in between doing other tasks around Frogger and his base. Generally, he’s able to keep his notes more organised than this, but between fixing all the bugs as they came up after the game’s opening, and redesigning the scoring system after the other hermit’s competitive insanity, he hasn’t had much time to sit down and simply sort through them.

Tango, meanwhile, sits a couple metres away from him, lying on his stomach. He’s propped himself up on his elbows and is currently staring very intently at a document open on his communicator with a sour look on his face.

“I can’t believe I missed some of these. What sorta redstoner am I?” Tango says, lifting a hand to flick through the list. “I mean, surely if I’d been less lazy when I got into this I wouldn’t have half of these bugs.”

Etho looks up from the papers. “If it makes you feel better, I spent hours trying to figure out why the game wasn’t turning on last night,” He says, “It turned out a silverfish had burrowed into a stone block and broke the redstone on top of it when it came out.” That was a new one. The kind of bug you only get when you’re placing redstone while half asleep. Bdubs had been around, and even then phantoms can’t get to him underground, so there hadn’t been much reason for Etho to actually sleep. Unfortunately, he doesn’t function well when tired, and acknowledgement of that fact has not magically fixed his sleep schedule.

Tango makes a variety of exasperated and unbelieving noises at the confession. “Wh- Yeah that does make me feel better!” He pushes himself up from the floor, and leans back onto his knees. “What are you doing building on natural stone for, man! That’s disgusting!”

“Look, I was−”

Tango interrupts him. “Gah! Can’t believe we gave Joel all that flack about not using smooth stone or wool, when you Mr Hopper Clock himself, can’t even be bothered to-”

He stops when the holographic display of the bug list he had open in front of him fizzles out, and the touchscreen of his comm stares up brightly at him in its place. In the same moment, Etho’s own comm materializes at his hip.

The devices chime with an incessant and annoying note, designed to grab the players’ attention—and keep it—until they do what it wants.Etho hasn’t heard that sound in almost a year. He silently wishes that year had lasted longer.

He doesn’t need to unlatch it from his belt and open it to know what it says. He does so anyway.

<████> Join the Game?

He can’t read the IGN of the player who sent it. They gave up trying to figure that out a few games back.

Etho swallows back a lump in his throat. “It really couldn’t give us a rest for a little longer, could it?” He says, chuckling a little. It wasn’t funny.

Tango gives a frustrated huff from where he’s stood up. He half looks prepared to chuck his communicator along with its stupid join prompt into the nearest wall.

“I’m going outside,” he says, “Getting some fresh air.” His tail flicks side to side with obvious pent up anxiety. The fire in his hair has come to life, and Etho would fear for his low hanging redstone if he didn’t know for a fact that Tango’s flames are practically harmless, not like a real blaze’s fire.

Etho has grown to understand Tango’s large emotive reactions to things like these. He can’t see his own hair, but given the growing ball of static he feels in his chest from the prospect of a new game, he can imagine the clouds are more unruly than normal.

He keeps a hand on the stack of papers he was sorting through, worried the cold breeze would scatter them, and ruin the last half hour of work he’s done. It often followed him, the breeze, especially when he was feeling like this. It’s almost starting to become normal.

“Don’t leave without me,” Etho says, looking up at his friend. The words surprised even him. He doesn’t know why he thinks the possibility would ruin him.

Tango’s smile is small, but it’s there. “Never.”

------------------

They sit at the edge of Tango’s factory base, legs hanging off the ledge and looking out on the horizon—on the rest of the server. There’s redstone under Etho’s nails, from his work last night. He should really clean it out before he burns himself by accidentally activating it. Doc’s always pestered him about wearing gloves, especially ever since he lost his eye. He does agree, he’d like to never experience pain like that again. Redstone reacting with his blood, infecting an already corrupted wound. Etho’s not a smart guy when it comes to this sort of thing, though. He likes his fingerless gloves. He likes the itch of redstone dust under his fingernails. He finds it grounding.

Tango’s head rests on his shoulder, a similar grounding force. His tail is partially wrapped around Etho, swishing side to side and knocking into Etho’s shoe every now and then. Etho’s not even sure Tango knows he’s doing it.

“Are you going to join?” Tango asks.

Etho huffs a bit in response. Is he? Every game so far has only served to drive him further to the edge. He’s almost reached a tipping point many times. And yet, every time his comm chimes with that unignorable message, he can’t help but consider it. He’s played in death games before, holds the scars of those days gone by, but he’s older now. He should be more level headed about joining a hardcore server designed specifically to drive him to murder and kill his friends. Is he a bad person for considering this?

“I mean, I haven’t missed one yet.”

Tango pauses. “Didn’t they have another one?” He questions, half speaking into the fluff on the hood of Etho’s vest. “Earlier this season? A lot of the guys disappeared on April fools. Something about an ‘out of body experience’. I know you weren’t there for that.”

That makes Etho freeze a little. Of course, Cleo won that one. He missed the join notification because he specifically put his comm as far from himself as possible so he could avoid distractions while sorting through the junk all over his single player world. Did he really forget something like that? “Hm. Yeah you’re right. Had a lot of stuff at home to clean up, I guess. Cleo did mention it though. Said it was fun.”

“Heh, I don’t know if the others all really agreed with her,” Tango chuckles. “Apparently Joel couldn’t stop throwing up for at least a day or two after. Really fucked with his code, that one.”

Etho could relate. He got sick towards the end of the last game and was almost relieved when Scar drew his sword through his stomach for the 3rd time. The rough respawn meant he was stuck curled up in his bed in his Decked Out 2 cubby until Tango found him. He did get up, after a regen potion or two. No death game would stop him from running the dungeon, after all.

(Tango wasn’t happy with him for that. He wanted to force Etho to be on bedrest for a bit. He was convinced in the end though, probably recognizing how late in the season they were, and how disrupting it would be for Etho to miss out on the final phases.)

Etho doesn’t voice his thoughts though. “Maybe this one will be similar. Fun, I mean.”

He doesn’t really believe himself when he says it. Cleo’s game was short, probably didn’t last long enough for anything to really hurt. Something tells him he won’t be as lucky this time.

Tango apparently doesn’t believe him either. He scoffs. “Yeah, right. And I’ll win! We’re saying things that won’t happen now, is that what we’re doing?”

Etho leans back. He puts his comm to the side for now, but doesn’t power it off or tuck it back into his inventory. Tango shuffles to the side slightly, lifting his head to give him space.

Etho turns to look at him. He shifts the subject slightly. “You gonna team up with me?” He asks, once again saying the first thing to come to mind. What the hell is Tango doing to him? “We could uh- really show them what 37th and 39th place could do.”

He adds the second part, almost as an afterthought. A joke, just to keep it- It can’t get too real.

Tango does him the service of ignoring the crack in his voice, and lightly whacks him. “HEY! 34th place actually!”, he exclaims, “I’ll have you know I’ve moved up in the world since I had you lot draggin’ me down.”

Which does hurt a little, Etho admits to himself. But it’s a joke, he knows, so he ignores the ache in his heart. He just chuckles.

Tango lets his hand drop, actually considering the question now. He’s still smiling, but it’s faltering and he can’t quite seem to look Etho in the eye. The horizon looks mighty fine, about now. They can see a lot of the server from here. Tango’s unfurnished and frankly abandoned steampunk cottage, Gem’s research facility and mountain skull, Skizzle’s pyramid, Pearl’s beautiful orchard. The fact that they’re both so close to abandoning it all for weeks, on purpose, for something that’s only ever hurt them—it sits wrong with him.

Tango continues, “But uh, yeah. I’m not giving those sorts of promises man. We can’t- I can’t control what happens in there. You know that.”

Tango’s voice is quiet as he says the last bit. He looks troubled. Upset at the words he’s saying, maybe. Etho knows they can control what happens in the games, to a degree. They’re not compelled to do wrong by some outside force. He supposes that’s what makes it so scary. It’s easier to think of their betrayal and implosion as inevitable, than to face the prospect of having the choice but choosing wrong every time.

So Etho doesn’t verbalise his disagreement. He nods. “Mhm. I know.”

The message on his comm still sits there, glaring at him harshly in the low light.

Join the Game?

#until i do more writing this is going in that tag #ethoslab #tangotek #hermitcraft #wild life smp #life series #slabtek #this is not explicitly romantic but theyre not. not in a relationship #hermitcraft season 10 #wuahg. ty jam for beta'ing this for me #you're amazing.#nics writing

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absolutebl · 5 months ago

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This Week in BL - Screw everything else inject On1y into my damn veins

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Aug 2024 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 5-6 of 12 - Extreme introvert dealing with a very hot, very drunk, very affectionate extrovert was an excellent experience all around. “I was drunk and talking out of my ass, but I wasn’t lying” maybe one of the world’s greatest confessions. How meta that he’s checking out the book of the story that he’s in. Carry on boys, very enjoyable, very Thai BL.

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 12 fin - It’s cute. They are all very cute. I do like it when high school BL gives us a coming out sequence. I know it’s old-fashioned, but it’s a trope that goes with this particular setting really well, and I just like it when it’s done nicely. I’m not sure I needed it to totally dominate the final episode of the series. But it was fine.

I gotta say, Fourth is an absolutely outstanding actor. He really did knocked it out of the park in this last episode especially.

In conclusion:

It was fine and it was charming, but it was also a little lackluster. Thailand managed to take one of Japan's softest cutest most bonkers BLs in recent memory and make it softer and cuter and... dull. They did this by watering it down. JBLs almost always have an edge to them, even the rom-coms, by dulling the edge, MLMU lost a great deal of the sparkle and tension as well. What an office setting managed to mostly maintain in the consummate hands of TayNew felt somewhat lackluster when handed off to the next generation and a high school setting. Cherry Magic was a lovely reinterpretation, Mix Up was an amateur's watercolor rendition of a colorful oil painting. Am I being harsh? G4 tried their best, and Fourth turned in some outrageously good acting in the latter half. But the show? It was fine. If you like water colors and you haven't seen (and loved) Kieta Hatsukoi. 8/10

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 8 fin - This was the first hint we got that the lead's relationship was anything more than sexual. And it was utilized for a breakup?! JJ and Wan's friendship is the best thing about this show. PWan selling JJ out to Methas was great. I was modestly delighted by the big fuck off ownership engagement ring. I admire a boy who likes to mark his territory with bling. I actually thought this was a decent final episode. If very rushed. I know, in general this ending was objectively weak, but I grinned the entire time, so I can’t really complain that much.

Final thoughts?

A story about a kid who infiltrates a cooking competition under false pretenses and then has to deal with the consequences when he falls in love with the head chef. The side couple is a poor little rich boy meets physical therapist (morality chain). The core friendships are excellent and the chemistry cannot be faulted across the (charcuterie) board. What this show lacks in substance it makes up for in health code violations. It was all chili all the time. Considering that the plot centered on betrayal but the romantic relationship never sweetened enough to balance that bitterness; one could be forgiven for throwing this one in the compost. But I got over all its weaknesses in flavor balancing for an ultimately satisfying meal, with a great dessert course. I've always loved spicy food. Plus the blooper reels were fantastic. 8/10

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 2 of 10 - I like the side couple a lot. It’s nice to see that dynamic developed (as it wasn't in the CBL version). Of course, Thailand leans into a secondary couple, but I also like the super popular jock + geeky boy who couldn’t care less. You know what? I’m actually really enjoying this. And yes, I AM biased because it's August. (Wait, that could be taken several different ways this month. But you know what I mean.) Anygay, this is a lot softer than the original, and so Hero is much more of a pining character and less harsh. But I'm still enjoying it. I like the stepbrothers trope (we don’t get it very much from Thailand), and I enjoy the beats and pulses of this particular story. We will see if it derails into inconsequence and lack of conflict the way My Love Mixup did.

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - I’m enjoying this show but it should’ve been just 10 eps. It’s feeling bloated at this juncture. That said, I loved our little GL kiss. Very pretty. I also really like the bit with Sam and Yo flirting with each other. Sam trying to get Yo to call him P'Sam was fucking brilliant. And then slipping in all of those nongs. Delightful. Linguistic negotiation, it's what's for dinner... along with Sam's d**k apparently. I frankly did not think they would take this couple that far. So, thank you very much everybody involved.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 4 of 12 - I do enjoy watching Yim freak out and fall in love all over again. The reality is still better for me than the fantasy parts, but it’s all fun enough. The magic mushrooms bit was odd. In fact, there is definitely a core tenor of ODD going on with the show. Which I’m accustomed to from Japan but I’m not really sure about from Thailand. Thus I remain engaged but suspicious of this BL.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 6 of 12 - Yu wants to take his baby on a trip, gets thwarted by his younger brother. Ouch. I really do think it’s time for Ai to tell Yu what’s going on with his dreams! Drunken boyfriend bolster pillow is a fav trope of mine. As usual, I’m catching second lead syndrome. What? I liked the rich boy badminton player. And then he picked up a guitar. Oh well.

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 8 of 12 - No one cares about the hets. He was jelly? Cute. Also kinda an arse, by hey this is BL.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 1-2 of 12 - announced in 2023, high school, stepbrothers, and is reputed to be high heat. Based on a novel Mou Mou + the Your Name Engraved Herein team.

ARE YOU READY? I'M GOING TO NOT SO QUIETLY LOSE MY DAMN MIND

This is old-school BL and it’s bloody fantastic. Tsundere seme to beat all tsundere (smartest + tallest + bestest at everything but people) meets socially-ept cutie smart-ass protag.

They living together by end of ep 1 and start kissing by end of ep 2.

There is an Unknown quality to this, and that I love. Also, and ironic to say this while Addicted Heroin Th is airing, but this REALLY reminds me of Addicted. It’s so fucking good. I am all in on this show. Shut up while this eats my life.

Cosmetic Playlover (Japan Tues Gaga) eps 5-6 of 8 - Of course! The POV shift to the seme character at ep 5! How could I forget? Japan loves this beat! AND.... The running of the gays. And a use of a first name! So darling. Also some crazy great communication and conversation that is NOT a hallmark of Japan. Sahashi is so very possessive. I loved the switch that went on in his brain and the mania in his eyes when he thought someone else was interested in Natsume. I continue to love this.

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 10 of 12 - I’m never going to like Maya. Sorry. And the leads were separated for most of this episodes so it was largely disappointing. I did like the insight into the way T sees the world, and sees the alienation of a disability and what it's dong to his friend. It’s very empathic. He’s such an appealing character in his obtuse bull-headed way.

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 2 of 8 - It’s intriguing, and I'm happy to have anything from Korea on my dash. But, like Blue Boys, I’m not entirely sure if I like it or not.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 3-4 of 12 - This may be Taiwan but I’m still in the "no singing" camp. I’m getting a slightly better chemistry feel off the leads in this episode. I’m not sure if they’re keeping it stiff because the younger character is under age or if it’s just that the actors aren’t there yet? (In other words is this a directing choice or a performance issue?)

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 8 of 10 - I've finally come down firmly on the fact that it’s the uneven power distribution (in terms of interest and enthusiasm for the relationship) that I dislike about this show. Generally, I like a power dynamic differential, kinky and all that. But this particular dynamic, when it’s the weaker personality that’s so much more into the stronger one? I never like it, unless it engages a serious pivot at some point. (See My Personal Weatherman or Takara & Amagi.)

It's airing but...

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 3 of 10 - I was really loving this one but I can't find ep 3 anywhere so I guess I gotta wait it out. I hope I get to see it eventually.

4 Minutes (Sat Gaga) eps 1-6 of 8 - Gaga picked this one up so we can watch it there. If I have time, I'll get caught up and put it into rotation.

In case you missed it

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging.

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer IS COMING IN SEPTEMBER!!!! (Yeah this is gonna sit here until then).

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming Next Month:

The Time of Fever (Korea)

9/1 Live in Love (Thai)

9/3 Happy of the End (Japan)

9/6 Kidnap (Thai)

9/7 The Hidden Moon (Thai)

9/9 Jack & Joker (Thai)

9/14 Love Sick 2024 (Thai)

9/17 Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan)

More deets next week. It's late and I'm tired.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

It was pretty. I am very shallow.

Even more pretty. Petition to have Tenon with his shirt off and hair back in every subsequent Thai BL? Just because.

(SunsetXVibes)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

201 notes · View notes

infamous-light · 14 days ago

Text

You Belong to Me Ch. 11

Alcina Dimitrescu x F! Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch.10

AO3: You Belong to Me

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu's obsession knows no bounds as she becomes increasingly possessive over you. Will you succumb to her dark embrace, or find a way to break free before it's too late?

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Yandere, possessive/obsessive behavior, canon typical violence

The grand doors of Castle Dimitrescu groaned as they swung open, allowing the silver moonlight to spill across the polished marble floors. Lady Dimitrescu stepped inside, cradling your limp form in her arms. Your body trembled, delicate and frail, as the aftereffects of the strange, cloying substance from Lady Beneviento’s garden still coursed through your veins.

“Mother,” Bela greeted, stepping forward with a spark of delight glinting in her amber eyes. “I’m so pleased to see that you’ve brought her back. I was beginning to worry she might’ve been lost to us forever.”

Cassandra and Daniela positioned themselves on either side of their older sister, their eyes flickering between their mother and the pitiful sight of you.

“Likewise,” Lady Dimitrescu replied, her eyes narrowing with barely concealed rage as she glared down at you, making her displeasure clear. “She should consider herself fortunate to have returned to my care, unharmed, I might add.”

Her grip on you tightened for a moment, a firm, possessive squeeze that made you shrink in her grasp.

“She is lucky to be in one piece,” Cassandra remarked, her lips curling into a wicked grin. “The Lycans out there would tear her apart without a second thought. The village is no place for a delicate little thing like her.”

Daniela’s laughter followed, a dark, almost sinister giggle.

Lady Dimitrescu, however, made no comment. She merely hummed as she carried you toward the plush couch by the crackling fireplace. Gently, she lowered you onto the soft cushions, her touch almost tender despite the anger surrounding her.

For a brief moment, your gaze wandered to the Lady’s daughters as they moved around their mother. Bela stood poised beside her mother while in stark contrast, Cassandra slouched lazily into an armchair, one leg draped carelessly over the armrest. With a casual flick of her wrist, she unsheathed her sickle, her fingers tracing its sharp edge as she absentmindedly twirled it in her hand. Daniela, standing just behind Bela, fidgeted with an almost restless energy, her fingers twitching at her sides as though itching for action.

Your attention returned to Lady Dimitrescu as she rose to her full, imposing height, her presence casting a shadow over you. With her hands planted firmly on her hips, she glared down at you in clear disapproval.

“I must say, I am deeply disappointed in you, pet,” she began, her voice unnervingly calm. “Escaping was an act of sheer foolishness. You should have known better than to believe you could actually get away.”

Lady Dimitrescu went quiet, her eyes swirling with a mix of emotions. For a moment, she seemed almost… hurt.

“I have provided everything for you,” she pressed on, bitterness sharpening her tone. “The food you eat, the clothes on your back, the very shelter that keeps you safe from the outside world. You have been cared for in ways no one else could ever offer you, yet this is how you repay me – by behaving like a spoiled, ungrateful brat.” The final word was spat with venom.

The foyer sank into a thick, oppressive silence, the weight of her words settling like a heavy fog. Lady Dimitrescu wasn’t wrong, not entirely – she had given you all those things. But underneath it all, you were nothing more than a pet to her. A possession. A creature she controlled, drugged, and twisted for her own needs.

You didn’t ask for any of this!

The truth lingered at the back of your tongue, but you dared not voice it. Not right now, at least.

Then, with a slow, menacing drawl, she spoke again, her voice dripping with chilling finality. “If you even consider escaping again, remember this: I know exactly where your family lives.”

A cold wave of horror washed over you, slowly wrapping around your heart and settling deep in the pit of your stomach. “No…”

A malicious smile formed on Lady Dimitrescu’s lips as she leaned in, almost relishing the fear emanating from you. “Oh yes, while you’ve been scurrying about, Bela kindly informed me of your family’s whereabouts. Though, I would’ve eventually pieced it together on my own. It just made tracking you down far simpler than I anticipated.”

Your eyes darted to Bela, whose expression was unreadable. The memory of her question from days ago resurfaced: she’d asked, almost casually over lunch, if you had any family left in your village. At the time, you wanted to avoid the subject, to say nothing, but you knew that Bela and her sisters would easily see through any lie. You had no choice but to answer truthfully.

Now, a bitter understanding settled in – you realized that was exactly how Bela intended to use that information against you.

“The villagers, too, were remarkably helpful, offering up all sorts of details. It didn’t take long before I paid your family a visit.” Lady Dimitrescu’s smile grew wider, her head tilting as her eyes sparkled with dark amusement. “I know exactly who they are, where they are, and just how easy it would be to pay them another... visit.”

A tremor ran through your body, every nerve on edge. She knew where your parents lived, and she could hurt them if she chose to.

“I hope you understand now, pet, that there’s no use in running. I will always find you.” Lady Dimitrescu’s voice trailed off before her expression hardened. “Don’t make me remind you of the consequences of such reckless actions again. You won't like what happens next time.”

Her words sank deep, like ice settling in your chest. The long-forgotten dreams of freedom, of returning home, felt so distant now, like a fading memory slipping through your grasp.

“So, my little runaway,” Lady Dimitrescu began, a sardonic smile curling her lips. “Care to enlighten me? How, exactly, did you manage to find the house key?”

Your heartbeat thundered in your chest, still reeling from her prior words. You had hoped she would forget about the method of your escape, but it seemed that hope was in vain. All you could do was stare up at her, helpless.

“Well?” Lady Dimitrescu prompted.

There was no way you could tell her the truth. You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words that might get someone hurt – or worse, killed, because of your confession.

Should you risk lying?

The dilemma churned inside of you like a relentless storm. No matter how you tried to spin the story, you knew the Lady and her daughters would sense your deception. But perhaps you didn’t need to tell her every little detail – just enough to satisfy her questions.

You took a shaky breath before responding, “I found the key in Miss Bela’s bedchambers, my Lady.”

Lady Dimitrescu raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, her irritation palpable.

“I know where the key was, you foolish little girl,” she said, her voice thick with impatience. “What I want to know is how you knew to look there.”

Her gaze held you captive, demanding an answer.

For a fleeting moment, the image of that young woman slipping you the note flashed across your mind. Your throat tightened as guilt and desperation warred within you. If you told the Lady the truth, you'd be handing her the woman's head on a silver platter.

“Pet,” Lady Dimitrescu warned. “Choose your next words wisely. I will uncover the truth, one way or another.”

A shudder ran through you, and you shut your eyes tight, bile rising in your throat. You despised yourself for what you were about to say.

“The maid who brought us breakfast yesterday gave me a note. It told me where the key was hidden. That’s how I managed to escape.”

Four pairs of eyes fixed on you, their gazes like fiery brands, burning into your skin.

“I suspected you didn’t orchestrate this on your own.” Lady Dimitrescu muttered to herself.

You could almost see the cogs turning in her mind, replaying yesterday’s events. Her eyes snapped back to you, as sharp as a dagger. “That would explain your erratic behavior that morning.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze locked on you, calculating. Gradually, she turned her attention to her eldest daughter.

“Bela,” she said, her voice colder than before. “Which of the staff has access to clean your bedchambers?”

Bela’s frown deepened, her brows knitting together as suspicion settled on her face.

“Ingrid and Ana,” she said slowly. Then, her expression grew darker as a sudden realization flickered across her features. “It seems one of them has been rummaging through my belongings if they knew where the key was hidden.”

Lady Dimitrescu turned back to you, her gaze chilling. “Who did you ask for help?”

Your heart raced, and your mouth moved in a silent plea, but no words escaped as the pressure in your throat tightened.

“Answer me, pet!” Lady Dimitrescu’s voice rang out as she closed in on you. “Who else helped you? And don’t even think of lying to me – I’m well aware that either Ingrid or Ana tipped off that maid about the key’s location. She’s new and belongs to the kitchen staff only; she wouldn’t have known on her own. And I highly doubt you knew to approach either of Bela’s maids for help first, so tell me, who did you ask for help initially?”

Your heart was beating so fast you could have sworn it was about to burst from your chest at any moment.

Her gaze was pure steel as she bit out each word. “Who. Was. It?”

The image of Catalina appeared in your mind.

You didn’t want to betray her. She was your dearest friend, the one who had stood by you through so much. You owed her everything. You couldn’t – wouldn’t – do this to her. The thought of it made tears begin to well in your eyes, blurring your vision.

Without warning, Lady Dimitrescu seized your jaw, her fingers digging painfully into your cheeks.

“Tell. Me.” Her voice was a deadly growl. “Or I’ll have one of my daughters drag a servant in here and have her be flayed alive. And you will watch.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as her threat rattled through you. The thought of someone innocent – someone who had no part in this – being dragged in here and killed for no reason, made your stomach twist. You couldn’t let that happen and Lady Dimitrescu knew that. Defeated, your gaze lowered to the floor, and a single, broken whisper fell from your lips. “Catalina.”

Lady Dimitrescu inhaled sharply through her nose.

“So, it appears I have a nest of rats scurrying through my castle,” she hissed, her fingers releasing the grip on your jaw. “Girls, wake the entire staff. Have them gathered here. Immediately.”

Your eyes widened at the command.

“It seems I must remind everyone of the consequences awaiting those who so blatantly disregard my rules.”

Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze lingered on you, a silent warning in her eyes.

***

The main foyer of Castle Dimitrescu was awash with a tense silence.

The staff stood in a nervous cluster, their eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and unease, darting toward you before quickly averting their gaze, as if your very presence might condemn them. Then you saw her – Catalina. Her face was pale, her lips pressed into a bloodless line. Her wide, horrified eyes locked onto yours, freezing you in place. You struggled to meet her gaze, the weight of what you’d done making your chest feel hollow and heavy at once.

You stood by the fireplace, its flickering warmth doing little to calm the relentless hammer of your heart against your ribs. Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela surrounded the staff, their sharp gazes dissecting them like wolves surveying a pen of sheep.

At the forefront of the foyer, Lady Dimitrescu loomed, her lips pressed into a tight, displeased line.

“Ingrid, Ana, Petra, and Catalina. Step forward.” Lady Dimitrescu ordered.

The four women moved forward hesitantly, their steps faltering, as though the floor might give way beneath them. Their heads remained bowed, avoiding Lady Dimitrescu’s intense glare.

“It seems that you all have taken it upon yourselves to defy me. To aid my pet in an audacious attempt to… escape.” The last word dripped from her lips like poison.

Her gaze sliced toward you for the briefest moment and a shiver snaked down your spine under the force of her stare.

The staff exchanged nervous looks, but none dared to speak.

Lady Dimitrescu shifted her full attention back to the four women, now quaking before her.

“Petra,” she purred, her voice a dangerous caress. “Tell me, who was stupid enough to reveal the location of the main house key to you?”

Petra’s face drained of color, and she trembled, her fingers nervously twisting the frayed edge of her apron as if it could somehow steady her.

“I-It was Ingrid, my Lady.” She stammered.

Ingrid’s eyes widened, panic swirling within them. Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze snapped toward Ingrid, who flinched as if struck.

“Is that true?” Lady Dimitrescu demanded.

Ingrid’s lips quivered, unable to form any words at first. Then, she nodded frantically, her voice breaking. “Yes, my Lady! But it wasn’t my fault! I-I only did it because Catalina asked me to! She came to me first!”

Catalina’s face twisted in desperation as she let out a strangled cry. “Please, my Lady! I –”

Lady Dimitrescu raised a hand and Catalina’s voice died mid-sentence. Her gaze swept over them before settling on Ana, who stood frozen, her hands shaking at her sides. She studied Ana in silence, her eyes narrowing with an intensity that made the woman’s knees nearly buckle.

“Ana,” Lady Dimitrescu said, her voice softer now, but no less commanding. “Get back in line.”

Ana nodded quickly, her voice a shaky whisper. “Y-Yes, my Lady.”

Ana retreated into the crowd, her shoulders quaking, a mix of dread and relief coursing through her.

“So,” Lady Dimitrescu drawled, her voice lethal. “You three find it acceptable to conspire against me? To assist my pet in such a brazen act of defiance?”

They shook their heads in unison, eyes wide with terror.

Lady Dimitrescu’s eyes settled on Petra, and a slow, cruel smile appeared on her lips.

“You disappoint me, Petra,” she said, her tone deceptively soft. “Two weeks. You’ve been under my roof for a mere two weeks, and already you’ve committed an offense that I cannot overlook.”

With a sharp flick of her wrist, five gleaming blades extended from her fingertips, catching the faint light like the fangs of a beast. Petra gasped, her eyes widening in sheer horror as Lady Dimitrescu’s other hand shot out, grabbing her forearm and lifting her up in midair.

“No! Please, my Lady! Have mercy!” Petra begged, but her cries were cut short as Lady Dimitrescu’s claws plunged into her chest with a sickening crunch, tearing through flesh and bone with ruthless efficiency.

A frightened yelp slipped past your lips, and you instinctively clamped a hand over your mouth in shock, unable to tear your eyes away from the grisly scene. The staff erupted in horrified gasps and screams as Petra’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor, her blood spreading in a dark, viscous pool around her.

Ingrid’s chest heaved with shallow, panicked breaths, her eyes flickering anxiously between the Lady and the door. Desperation overtook reason as she bolted past Lady Dimitrescu and headed straight for the exit.

She didn’t make it far.

Cassandra appeared in a blur of movement, her sickle gleaming as it arced through the air with lethal precision. It found its mark, embedding deep into Ingrid’s calf with a wet, visceral thud. Ingrid’s scream tore through the foyer – a raw, guttural cry of pain and terror – as she collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving floor. Looming over her, Cassandra grinned wickedly, her smile stretching unnaturally wide. With a cruel twist, she ripped the sickle free, drawing another tortured wail from Ingrid. Cassandra chuckled with sadistic delight.

Lady Dimitrescu shifted her focus back to Catalina, who had collapsed on the floor in a trembling heap, a strangled sob escaping her lips. She shook so violently that it seemed as though her fragile body might break apart. A cold knot of terror formed in your gut as Lady Dimitrescu began to advance on Catalina, her blades still glinting with Petra’s blood.

You couldn’t let Catalina die.

“No!” The cry ripped from your throat, raw and desperate.

Before you could process what was happening, your body moved on its own. You rushed forward, wrapping your arms tightly around Lady Dimitrescu's legs as best as you could.

“Please!” You pleaded, your voice breaking as you buried your face against her dress. “Don’t hurt her! I promise – I’ll never try to escape again! Just please, spare her!”

The words tumbled out in a frantic stream, muffled against the rich fabric as your tears soaked through. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up, too afraid to meet the wrathful glare you could feel boring down on you. Yet, even as your heart raced and fear clawed at your insides, you tightened your hold, hoping against hope that your plea would be enough to save Catalina’s life.

Every second stretched into an eternity as Lady Dimitrescu remained still.

Then, ever so slowly, her claws retracted. A large, iron-like hand curled possessively around the nape of your neck and tugged you away from her legs. She leaned down, her lips grazing your ear as she whispered in a voice meant only for you to hear, “Very well. I will spare her. But understand this – her life is now in your hands, pet. Do not make me regret this decision.”

A wave of relief washed over you, causing the tension in your body to ease slightly. However, as her words sank in, a flicker of nervousness twisted in your stomach. The realization that Catalina’s life – her very survival – was now solely dependent on your actions.

Straightening up again, Lady Dimitrescu fixed her burning gaze on Catalina.

“Get out of my sight.” She sneered.

Catalina scrambled to her feet; her sobs muffled as she fled the foyer. The rest of the staff stood motionless, paralyzed by fear. It wasn't until Lady Dimitrescu's icy gaze passed over them that the tension in the air seemed to break.

“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” Lady Dimitrescu’s voice echoed. “Disobedience will not be tolerated. And if any of you dare assist my pet in escaping, let me make this perfectly clear: I will hunt you down and ensure that your suffering is far greater than anything you could ever imagine. Dismissed.”

The staff immediately scattered like roaches.

Lady Dimitrescu glanced at Cassandra, a smirk beginning to pull at her lips. “Take Ingrid to the cellar. Do what you will with her.”

“Yes, mother.” Cassandra's smile grew wider, her eyes gleaming with predatory hunger as she gazed down at Ingrid, who clutched her bleeding leg. “We’re going to have so much fun together.”

Ingrid screamed in agony as she was roughly hauled away by the sickle lodged deeply in her leg. Cassandra cackled maddeningly and a sense of dread filled you as you feared for Ingrid's fate. But as the sound of Ingrid’s cries faded, your gaze shifted, drawn to Petra’s lifeless body.

Lady Dimitrescu chuckled at Cassandra’s antics before turning toward her two remaining daughters. “Bela, Daniela, fetch me a pair of manacles and deliver them to my bedchambers, please. Oh, and have someone clean this mess up.” She motioned toward Petra's bloody corpse, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Yes, mother.” They replied in unison, their forms dissolving into a swarm of flies before vanishing to carry out their mother's command.

The mention of manacles being brought to her bedchambers should have sounded an alarm in your mind, yet you remained trapped in a strange, dazed trance. Your eyes stayed locked on Petra, the horror of the scene almost too much to process. The sight of her, so cold and still, made you sick. You had always known Lady Dimitrescu was capable of such cruelty but seeing it up close was still difficult to bear.

Lady Dimitrescu's gaze flickered over to you, catching your reaction. With a heavy sigh, she bent down and scooped you up into her arms.

“This had to be done,” she explained, her tone softening. “The staff needed to learn their place. They need to understand that you are mine and they will respect that – whether they wish to or not. I cannot allow disobedience like this to happen again.”

You remained silent, the words hollowing out your chest. Petra had suffered this fate only because she had tried to help you, and you loathed yourself for it.

Lady Dimitrescu continued talking but it sounded distant, muffled, as if you were submerged underwater. The world around you seemed to slip away, and you barely registered the sensation of being carried through the halls. It wasn't until she lowered you onto the vast, plush bed that your surroundings began to make themselves known.

Moments later, Bela and Daniela appeared, each holding a set of heavy manacles. Their gazes darted to you briefly before focusing on their mother.

“Secure them to the bed.” Lady Dimitrescu said.

Bela and Daniela moved swiftly as they fastened the manacles to the bedposts. Bela grabbed your left wrist, her touch firm, and for a brief moment, you glanced up at her in confusion. Before you could react, she clicked the manacle into place. Daniela mirrored her sister's actions, grasping your left ankle and locking it into its own restraint. With a mischievous grin, she gave the manacle a light, almost mocking pat.

“There we go.” Daniela remarked, her smile wide.

You stared at Lady Dimitrescu in disbelief. “What...?”

Her gaze swept over you as she sat by her vanity, her fingers starting to remove the hairclips.

“I don’t trust you,” Lady Dimitrescu stated simply. “Despite the promise you had made earlier, it would be foolish of me not to take any precautions.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. Deep down, you had known that something like this would happen once she found you again, but it still didn’t make you feel any better.

“Don’t pout, pet,” Lady Dimitrescu cooed. “If you prove yourself obedient, I might consider removing them. But for now, during bedtime, you will remain restrained.”

Your face fell further, a blend of anger and resignation swirling within you. Lady Dimitrescu tsked softly before turning her attention to her daughters.

“Thank you, girls. You may go.” Her lips curved into a smile, carrying a hint of warmth.

Bela and Daniela returned their mother’s smile before slipping out of the bedroom, their footsteps gradually fading into the quiet halls.

Lady Dimitrescu rose gracefully from her vanity and approached the bedside where you lay. Leaning over, she placed a hand on your chest, her touch gentle as she guided you back against the pillows. She drew the bedcovers up, smoothing them over you as she tucked you in.

“Rest now, my dear,” Lady Dimitrescu murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead. Her eyes lingered on your face, a flicker of something genuine – concern, perhaps – dancing in their golden depths. “I'll see you in the morning.”

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village #resident evil fanfic #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil #resident evil 8

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hiramaris · 26 days ago

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Kiss It Off Me

CHAPTER 9

Chapter Summary:

If she's second-guessing everything she ever thought was platonic and casual between the two of you, is this still casual? They should have meant nothing but it's starting to feel like there is something.

Pairings: Haley x Fem!Farmer

Disclaimer: I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: None?

Notes:

I know, I know I'm such a horrible person for leaving this story hanging loose in the air. I've honestly had this chapter rotting in my drafts because I didn't have the motivation to write anymore, not to mention the lack of luxury with time. I just recently graduated as well so I was busy preparing for that back in July-October (I'm a working woman now, hooray! [Not 😔]) Nobody told me that working a 9-5 job (or more like 8-6 in my case) is going to be the end of me. That doesn't even include the 6-hour commute back to back. So as you can see, I'm dying here. I don't really have the time to sit in front of my laptop after hours of sitting in front of my company laptop 😔 I'm really sorry for the long wait, and I still can't promise an immediate update after this. This chapter serves as my apology to you guys. Hope you like it!

Fall 1

"Tell me. Are you and Y/n/n dating?"

Haley nearly choked on her food. Emily said it so casually that she wasn't prepared how to react properly.

So, as opposed to her usually calm and composed demeanor, Haley only managed to sputter a pathetic "what?" as she sat down her toast and reached for her glass of water in hopes to wash down the piece of damn bread she had swallowed accidentally without chewing it properly, courtesy of her sister.

"Are you and Y/n/n dating?" Emily repeated, unabashed and with her annoying eyes crinkling from the side, a look Haley knew all too well when Emily was trying to rise up something in her.

"No, I heard you the first time!" Haley exclaimed, her face turning red as she slammed the empty glass. "I mean–what the hell, Em?"

Emily raised an eyebrow, taking a leisurely sip of her coffee, acting like she was not actively ruining her little sister's evening right now.

"You mean to tell me you're not after your whole public display of affection on the night of the moonlight jellies?"

For a brief moment, the events flashed back on Haley's mind– your silent tears, quivering lips, Haley's arm wrapped around your waist in an almost protective, comforting way as you shared your thoughts with her for the first time since you came here. It was a casual and completely platonic thing to do.

She could vividly remember how fresh tears bested up on your eyes as a baby jellyfish separated itself from its group and went towards you, almost peering cautiously at the human before her.

It was beautiful, you said that night. The night was magical. and that only sank into you that you were no longer Joja's prisoner. You're here, in Pelican town, making a name for yourself, with townspeople who loved you and treated you as an equal. You have actual friends that care for you and most importantly, you found a home.

Was it casual for her to know all this?

"Y/n was feeling emotional at that moment. I was just trying to be her friend," she finally said after a moment of silence.

Yes, it's casual.

Emily must have noticed her pausing as she scoffed behind her toast. "Friend? I certainly don't kiss Sandy's forehead, and she's my best friend."

"Because you're doing way worse with her." Haley rolled her eyes at that. "Seriously, Em, get off my back. Y/n and I are just good friends."

"Okay, I'll get off your back if you can counter my arguments," Emily challenged, leaning forward the table with a mischievous glint in her eye.

She should say no. Emily's just giving her something else to bite on knowing fully well Haley's bound to bite more than she could chew.

Say no. There's nothing to counter because there's nothing to even argue about.

Say n–

"Yoba, fine, if that will shut you up." Damn it, Haley.

Emily's smirk grew and Haley dreaded the first thing that would come out of her hippie mouth.

"You don't kiss Alex on the forehead at all. You don't even hug him for Yoba's sake, and he's your best friend. You're going to tell me everything that's going on with Y/n is entirely platonic and casual?" Emily's expression was triumphant as she laid out her case.

Haley lets out a grin of her own. If Emily's going to lay out obvious bullshits like this then she can definitely handle whatever her sister's planning to throw at her.

"First off, Alex stinks—"

"Y/n/n's job makes her friends with dirt and sweat, no offense to her, but isn't that an ick already to you?" Emily interrupted, smirking.

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about because her hygiene is almost as impeccable as mine," Haley retorted, a smirk of her own forming as she took a defiant bite of her bacon.

"Okay... Were you practicing your answers before?" Emily narrowed her eyes at her, suspicious. "There's no way you're this prepared to counter my arguments!"

"So, I won?"

"Ah, ah... not quite, little sis." Emily stopped her from standing up. "How about the sunflower? That girl planted a whole yard of sunflowers in her yard and you mean to tell me there's nothing homosexual happening around you guys?"

"She's a farmer, duh. Of course, she's going to plant sunflowers at some point. They're pretty and very much profitable."

"Not as profitable as blueberries, corn, or cranberries. Plus, I've been there, it's almost half a hectare, it's crazy."

"You're kidding?" Haley's eyes bulged at that. She's got to admit, she did not see that bullet coming. "Last time I was there, it was just in her front yard."

"Half a hectare," her sister affirmed with that stupidly annoying knowing smirk. "You didn't see that coming, did you? Got no counter for me?"

"Shut up. If you're so curious about her lack of good strategy with her crops, you should talk to her yourself." Haley finally snapped, pushing her plate away.

She's done humoring Emily with her shits.

"Oh, I'll do just that." But it seemed her sister wasn't done with her either. "Anyway, moving on. How can you explain the holding hands?"

Haley visibly relaxed at that. She has some sensible explanation for that, one she's certain Emily wouldn't be able to counter.

"Female friends do that."

"Hmm... So if she were to hold hands with her best friend, Penny, that would be alright with you?" Well, shit.

That made her pause for the second time this evening.

"Of course," she scoffed. "As I said, it's normal for female friends to do that. It's a casual thing girls do. Nothing to bat an eye for."

Sensible explanation her ass. That wasn't even half-sensible, if at all

"I figured," Emily responded, expression turning much more serious now that it kind of made Haley even more nervous. "I just thought if she were this mushy with you, and you're just friends with her, then she's probably mushier with her best friend."

Silence.

Because what the fuck is she supposed to respond to that? This is a piece of information that hadn't crossed her mind, ever. She knows you're a sweetheart to everyone. It's as if it was second nature to you. It was a casual and completely platonic of you to do. Nothing to bat an eye for.

Nothing.

Still. She just hadn't considered the possibility of you being mushier to others.

Were you also comforting Penny the way you were comforting her?

So caring and protective that it felt like those warmth were exclusive just for her only?

She just couldn't imagine it before and now it's physically making her sick in her stomach. Was this still casual for her to even feel?

"She's pals as well with Leah, I heard they'd occasionally do sleepovers in their cabins. It's so cut–" Emily went on before finally noticing the turmoil in her sister's eyes cascading down to her hands. "Okay, what did that tissue ever do to you?"

Haley stopped, noticing the crumpled piece of tissue against her clenched fists. She looked up to Emily with a sharp glare and found her sister staring back at her, not even flinching away from her dissecting gaze. "Why are you even saying this to me?"

"Nothing. Just thought it would be best to talk to one of the possible sources. I heard from Abigail that Y/n/n just recently purchased a bouquet of flowers so I thought she might have given it to you."

Emily's sudden nonchalance at this conversation is infuriating her to a certain degree that she felt like she wanted to barge inside Clint's sorry-ass-of-a-shop and beat the living shit out of him.

Emily went on, humming casually as she piled up the dishes to wash them in the sink. "Hmm, I couldn't believe I was wrong. You were so close with her that I thought she'd give it to you. I guess she's been secretly seeing someone else then."

"She what?" Her stomach dropped.

Haley was so caught off guard at her last sentence that she couldn't help but rip the tissue on her hands. So much for that.

"It's been the talk of the town, you know? There are even bets going on but it's kind of hard to pinpoint who exactly, not when she gets along with all the bachelors and bachelorettes here. Some even bet on themselves, like Abigail. I mean, it does make sense. She and Y/n/n spent an awful lot of time on those mines."

That made Haley stand up from her seat, her form indignant. "So, you bet on me? Is this why we're having this conversation?"

"Of course, I would support my sister!" replied Emily, briefly looking behind her shoulder just in time to catch Haley scowling from where she stood. She went on, almost saying the words in a singsong voice as she continued soaking the dishes. "But if you want, I can always bet to myself. Y/n is a cute gal after all."

"I hate everything about you."

"You don't!" Emily readily chirped out behind Haley who had enough of this conversation and was already stomping her way into her room.

"Good night, Em!"

With that, she slammed the door to her room in hopes of finally ending this damn conversation. If she knew this was where it would have led, she would have bolted out the moment Emily opened her mouth.

She didn't need to know all this particularly if you hadn't even said anything else to her about this.

She scoffed. 'I thought we were close enough for her to share something like this with me. Afraid not.'

"I'm just saying, sis. Y/n/n is one of the most eligible bachelorettes in the valley. Anyone would be lucky to have her."

Emily's voice came once again just behind her door making her groan against her pillow. Hadn't she had enough?

Haley briefly considered running towards her dark room just to tune out whatever Emily was going to say but she stopped dead in her tracks when her sister's words next came through.

"There's going to be a competition. If you don't get your shit together soon, someone's bound to steal her heart. I just hate to see you getting hurt."

Was it casual for her to admit that hearing this news was already starting to hurt her?

This could mean nothing. Right?

****

Fall 2

A day of shopping in Zuzu City was just what Haley needed. While she had promised herself to tone down on hoarding clothes, she made an exception just this once. Shopping was one of her ways to cope with stress, aside from photography, but she had scratched the thought of using her camera for today because she didn't feel like spending her day wandering around town. With the bets on whom Y/n was giving the bouquet to, she knew the townspeople's eyes were hot on her trail.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape when Haley stepped off the bus, her arms laden with shopping bags from her trip to the city.

She had noticed Pam looking her way since the trip began, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what the older woman wanted to hear from her. That's why when the bus pulled to a stop, Haley was quick to bolt out of the vehicle.

"Oi, kid." Haley froze at the sound of Pam's voice. So much for her plan to escape. "Haley."

"Oh." Haley whirled around, fighting back a wince at what was about to come. "Hey, Pam. What's up?"

Pam's steps were slow and deliberate as she stepped off the bus and Haley had no choice but to watch and wait expectantly for the words to finally come out.

"Are you and Farmer Y/n dating?" There it is.

Despite expecting this topic, Haley couldn't help but feel her face flush slightly under Pam's scrutinizing gaze.

"Uhm... no?"

Pam raised an eyebrow. "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Haley shifted on her feet, glancing down at her shopping bags as if they might provide an answer. "We're not dating," she said more firmly this time. "Why?"

"Good, then that scratches you off the list."

"Excuse me?" Haley's brows knitted in confusion.

"You see, kid. There have been bets going on about who Y/n will give the bouquet to. Of course, I'm putting all my beers on my little girl. She's the closest to the farmer, aside from you. So, if you weren't dating Y/n, then my Penny's definitely got a shot."

Haley blinked, taken aback. "And you're okay with that? I mean... Y/n's a girl and all..."

Pam raised an eyebrow, her expression turning serious. "I didn't know you were homophobic, kid."

"I'm not! I swear. It's just that… things are a bit different now compared to your—well, generation. I doubt my folks would be as accepting as you."

Pam's face softened slightly as she sighed. "Penny's father left us when she was really young. So, I don't wish for her to experience the same thing. Y/n's a good kid. Responsible and has a sense of direction. Far from my dead-beat husband. Penny's happy with her, and that's the only thing that matters to me. And it's not bad that the gal is well-off. I heard she was supposed to be Joja's heiress. But even so, that farm of hers is enough to provide for generations of her future family. I could never ask for more capable hands to take care of my kid than Y/n."

Haley couldn't help but tune out of this conversation. She didn't need to hear all the right reasons why Penny's the best shot for your heart. Penny's a sweetheart and all, has her heart set in the right direction, a characteristic that perfectly compliments your lifestyle.

But why does this feel like Emily stabbed her with her kitchen knife and twisted it for good measure just to spite her?

Wait... what did she just say?

"Joja?" She furrowed her eyebrows at this information. "Where'd you hear that?"

"From the mayor, but don't tell him I told you. I think it was supposed to be a secret or some shit." Pam shrugged. " Still... word gets around, you know? Small town and all. People talk. But it doesn't matter where she came from. What matters is who she is now and how she treats the people she cares about."

Haley nodded slowly, absorbing Pam's words but couldn't tell exactly why there was a lump in her throat she couldn't swallow.

"I guess you're right. Y/n's a good person. Anyone would be lucky to have her." Haley faked a smile, desperately hoping the older woman didn't catch her in her lie.

Pam smiled, her stern demeanor softening. "Exactly. So, if you're not interested, that's fine. But just know that I know when people are bullshitting me. I know, I know it's not any of my business. But if you really do happen to have something going on with the farmer, get your shit together soon."

"I'll..." She didn't know it was possible to have the lump in her throat grow even more, she could feel a twinge of something else she couldn't quite identify. "I'll take note of that. Thanks for the chat, Pam. I'll see you around."

"Likewise, kid," Pam replied, waving as she climbed back onto the bus. "Oh, and Haley?"

"Hmm?"

"You know what you feel, don't let fear stop you from following your heart, or else you'll spend the rest of your life wishing you had."

When even other people can point out how non-platonic and far from casual the things you and she do are, is it still casual now?

****

Fall 9

It's been an excruciating week of being asked if she was dating Y/n, and it's starting to get on Haley's nerves. Not because she was entirely opposed to the idea, but because she knew it wasn't even her to begin with, and she didn't need everyone rubbing salt in her wound every minute and every second of every damn day.

She didn't need to hear Abigail bragging to Sebastian and Sam that any day now, she'd be receiving the same bouquet she had arranged that you bought from Pierre, and how ironic it would be if she were to receive them, and how she wasn't actually opposed to the idea.

"I haven't really considered that I could possibly like a girl, but hey, it's Y/n. I'm not complaining. If she were to give me the flowers, I'd say yes in a heartbeat," she had even said. That's all Haley needed to hear to decide she wasn't in the mood to shop right now at Pierre's if she was going to hear bullshits like that.

She also didn't need to hear any sort of development you have with Penny. She didn't need to know you went with her to Zuzu to buy some school supplies for the kids on Penny's birthday. She didn't need to hear you gave the teacher and her students a tour of your farm.

She didn't need to hear any of it.

Because how in Yoba's name had she not considered your growing friendship with the redhead?

"Miss Y/n? I have a question," Haley heard one day from behind the trees by Cindersap Lake. She lowered her camera from her eyes when she recognized Jas' voice followed by yours.

"What is it, Jas?"

"You're from the city, right? How do you court someone there?"

She heard you chuckle. "Well... We go on dates, walk our dates back to their door, and then... That's when our date will decide if they still want to see us for our next date."

You paused, and Haley thought that was it, but the next words you uttered almost made her pack up her equipment and go home.

"And if we're worthy of being kissed."

"Y/n!" came Penny's scandalized gasp. "They're kids. They don't need to hear that!"

"Right, right... Sorry, Pen!"

"Ohhh." That's Vincent. "So, are you like courting Miss Penny since you're walking her home, too?"

"Vincent!" Penny scolded, sounding almost aghast at her student's blunt question.

Haley could only allow herself to breathe when you finally answered Sam's brother.

"Haha, we're walking Jas home together, remember? If anything, it seems you were the one courting her since you wanted to come with us to walk her home," you teased him.

"Ew! I don't want Vincent to court me!"

"Hey! What's wrong with me?"

"You're too childish like your brother! No wonder Miss Penny turned down Mister Sam. I bet you she likes someone like Miss Y/n. I know I would."

"Hey!" yelled Vincent, obviously offended.

"Okay, that's enough kids," admonished Penny, and Haley could only imagine the horror on her face at Jas' comment. "It's not good to gossip, Jas, and it's not polite to ask adults things like that, Vincent."

"Alright, Miss Penny. I'm getting inside. Thank you for walking me home," Jas replied, her tone still somewhat defiant.

"Bye, Jas!" you called after her, followed by the sound of Vincent sniffling. "Hey now, little dude... don't be upset. I'm sure Jas was only joking."

"I don't understand why she needs to be mean. Am I not likable?" Vincent's voice wavered.

Haley dared to take a peek behind the bushes. She watched as you knelt down to be at eye level with Vincent, your smile as warm as the setting sun.

"Anyone can be likable to a certain someone. Like you," you said, ruffling his hair. "But we can't really force someone to like us the way we want, you know?"

"But... are you just going to accept they don't like you even though you're nice?" Vincent asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

You chuckled softly, briefly looking up to meet Penny's eyes, which had been fixed on you with such fondness that it tightened the knot in Haley's stomach.

"Well... I didn't say you have to give up. Sometimes people say mean things to protect themselves. You just have to be patient, and I'm sure they'll come around eventually," you explained gently.

Vincent nodded, his big brown eyes hanging on to every word you said.

"But..." you continued, "if this person has made it clear they don't like you, then you have to accept their boundaries, okay?"

"Eh..." He pouted. "I don't get it. Adulting is so confusing."

You barked out a laugh. "Don't worry, you have plenty of time to grow up, buddy."

Vincent's expression brightened a bit at your words. "Okay, I'll try to remember that."

"That's the spirit," you said, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Penny smiled, her eyes softening as she looked at you. "Thank you, Y/n. You're really good with them."

"Thanks, Penny," you replied, standing up and stretching. "They're good kids. Just need a little guidance sometimes."

"Are you feeling any better now, Vincent?" Penny asked gently. "Don't take Jas' words to heart, okay?"

"Uh-huh! I'm feeling a little better, Miss Penny! But... could Miss Y/n carry me until we get home? I'm..." He yawned. "I'm a little tired."

"Uhm, I don't think..."

"... alrighty then, let's get this little guy home as well," Haley could hear you grunt, and she could only imagine you carrying the sleepy Vincent in your arms.

"Your farm's right there, Y/n/n." Penny pointed out gently. "I can walk Vincent home. You don't have to make a detour."

"Nonsense, a little walk isn't going to kill me. Plus, I want to walk you home as well."

The redhead giggled softly. "I wasn't informed you were courting me."

"Oh, really now? I wasn't informed either," you joked, and Haley could feel herself dying a little on the inside.

****

Was it casual when you gave her daffodils every chance you could get when you barely even knew her?

Was it casual for you to have a daily mandatory breakfast with the Carter siblings?

Was it casual when you gave Haley her favorite gift on her birthday even though coconuts aren't something you can just spawn at hand when you need them to?

Was it casual that you managed to pay attention enough to actually know what her favorites are?

When you were drunk and Haley made her way outside to get you, in a greasy saloon of all places, even though she's not yet finished with her skincare, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you called her babe while you were drunk?

Was it casual when you declared you'd only allow yourself to be this close to her is in the reality you created in your dreams?

When she stayed at your place, took care of you, and cleaned your vomit-stained shirt and mattress, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you avoided her for four days because you thought you ruined her pampering day?

When she started minimizing her makeup because you told her once she's pretty even without them, was it casual?

When Haley was upset at the thought you'd be dancing with someone else, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you assured her you didn't want to dance with anyone but her?

When Haley, for once, didn't think about winning the flower dance and was focused on your endearing smile and relaxing embrace, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you were bloody and wet from the rain and the first thing you thought was knocking on her door?

When she could only focus on your wounds rather than your dirt-stained body staining the carpet, was it casual?

When Haley tried her hardest to treat your wounds despite fearing the sight of blood, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you almost died to get her a gift just because you thought she'd find them pretty enough to be the subject of her camera?

When Haley kissed your forehead the same way her grandmother used to do on her to kiss the pain away, was it casual?

When Haley forced you to take her bed because she couldn't bear to let your injured self sleep uncomfortably on the couch, was it still casual?

Was it casual when the first thing you thought upon waking up was to let Haley sleep on her bed because you didn't want her to suffer any back pain from her sleeping position on the foot of the bed even though you're injured yourself?

When Haley thought you hated her for the poisonous words she spouted on you that night and hated herself for it, was it casual now?

Was it casual when you tried your hardest to find her great grandma's bracelet because you couldn't bear to see her so upset despite your injuries?

Was it casual when you crafted a bouquet of sunflowers to make up for giving her a hated gift?

Was it casual when you planted a whole yard of sunflowers on your farm when Haley mentioned in passing that she loves them?

Was it casual when you helped her with her shopping bags even though you were obviously going somewhere else?

Was it casual for you and her to walk in the town, hand in hand? It could mean nothing.

When Haley's view of success was you beside her, was it casual?

When Haley couldn't handle the feeling of disappointing you, was it casual?

Was it casual of you to magically appear whenever she needs you?

Was it casual of you to be her number-one supporter in everything when she couldn't even believe in herself?

Was it casual when you made it your personal mission to keep her happy no matter what?

Was it casual when you made sure that no dirt could touch her not when you're around because you know how much she hated getting dirty?

When Haley no longer minds the feeling and smell of dirt, especially when you're around, was it still casual now?

Was it casual when you modeled for her despite hating modeling itself because Haley needed some new variations for her photography?

When Haley tried to conquer her fear of the ocean because she saw you once having fun with Leah swimming along the shore, was it casual?

Was it casual when you helped her conquer this fear even though you had plans for the day?

If she's second-guessing everything she ever thought was platonic and casual between the two of you, is this still casual?

They should have meant nothing but it's starting to feel like there is something.

****

The general store was quieter than usual that afternoon, with only a couple of customers browsing the shelves and the faint hum of Pierre’s old radio playing a static-filled tune in the background. Haley placed her basket of groceries on the counter with an air of casual confidence, her hair shimmering under the warm glow of the store's lights as if she had just stepped out of a magazine.

"There's my favorite blonde," Pierre greeted her with a grin, his tone far too cheerful to pass as entirely neutral. He adjusted his glasses as he began unpacking her items. "You got everything you need?"

Haley offered a small, polite smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I would appreciate it though if you restocked your peppermint coffee. Winter's coming soon, and I need my coffee to survive the whole season."

Pierre chuckled, nodding as he scribbled something on a notepad beside the register. "I'll keep note of that."

The rhythmic beep of the scanner broke the silence, but Pierre seemed to drag out the process, deliberately slow with each item. Haley tilted her head, pretending to examine the jars of preserves on a nearby shelf, though her curiosity flickered with each stolen glance Pierre gave her from behind the counter.

Her patience thinned as the seconds stretched on. She crossed her arms and finally turned back to him, narrowing her eyes. "What?" she asked, her voice sharp enough to slice through his act.

Pierre blinked, his hand pausing mid-air with a can of soup. "What, what?" he asked, his tone layered with faux innocence.

Haley raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting into one of exasperated suspicion. "Nothing. It's just... you looked like you wanted to say something."

Pierre hesitated, scratching the back of his neck as a sheepish grin spread across his face. "Has farmer Y/n told you who she gave the bouquet to?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Is this about the bet?"

"Sort of," Pierre admitted, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "Come on, I gave Gus five grand. I just know my daughter caught her eye. Why else would Y/n be here every other day just to give Abigail her weird collection of stones?"

Haley rolled her eyes so hard it felt like they might stay that way. "First off, it's none of your business. Secondly, even if I did know, I'm not about to spill it to the entire town."

Pierre's grin faltered slightly, but his persistence didn’t waver. "I get it." He sighed dramatically as he began to load her bag, though his eyes darted toward her with a flicker of mischief. "She gave it to you, didn’t she? I mean, it makes total sense."

Her irritation bubbled just beneath the surface as she prepared to unleash a sharp retort, each word she'd make sure colorful enough to crush Pierre's so-called pride.

Her fingers curled slightly around the edge of the counter, her nails digging into the wood as her lips parted to speak.

But then it happened—before she could form a single syllable, the distinct scent of freshly cut grass and minted soap filled her senses. Haley froze, the small hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as warmth radiated from the figure now standing just behind her.

"Hey there, doll," your voice was soft, low, and entirely too close for her comfort—or rather, for her ability to maintain composure. Haley could feel the faint brush of your breath against her skin, and she clenched her jaw to stifle a gasp.

Pierre perked up, his eyes sparkling with newfound interest as he set the last of Haley’s items into her bag. "Well, speak of the devil," he quipped with a knowing smirk, crossing his arms. "The farmer of the hour. What brings you here, Y/n?"

"Oh, I'm just out to get Haley," you replied smoothly, your tone casual as if you weren’t practically pressed against Haley’s back. You leaned slightly to the side, catching her narrowed gaze as she turned her head just enough to glance at you. "Emily told me she'll be here."

Haley’s lips twitched, fighting to suppress the blush creeping up her cheeks. "Do you mind?" she asked through gritted teeth, her voice laced with a mix of exasperation and something she refused to name.

She instinctively took a step forward, creating a thin barrier of space between the two of you. The distance was barely anything, but it felt monumental to her frayed nerves. You noticed it, of course—you noticed everything, just as you’d noticed her avoiding you the past few days. She’d orchestrated this whole "not a date" movie outing at your farm a while back before she started this shindig of avoiding you, and yet here she was, cornered by her own choices. She knew you'd confront her eventually; she just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

Damn you, Emily. Haley cursed internally. Her sister's meddling defies the bound of the universe.

"Oh! Out for a date, I see," Pierre chimed in, his tone laced with playful curiosity. His eyes darted between the two of you, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

Haley's pulse quickened, and she forced herself to remain calm. She looked at you, waiting—no, daring you to deny it. Say something, she thought. Deny it. Deflect. Anything.

Your eyebrows shot up, disappearing behind your bangs as you opened your mouth, undoubtedly preparing to clarify the situation. But before a single word could escape, the bell above the door jingled sharply, drawing all attention to the entrance.

Morris stepped inside, his smug face immediately souring the air. His presence was an unwelcome shadow, sharp and intrusive, like nails on a chalkboard.

Haley caught the subtle change in your demeanor, a storm cloud rolling across your features. You muttered a string of profanities under your breath, quiet enough that most wouldn't catch it. But Haley was close—too close—and every word hit her ears like a sharp note.

It startled her; you rarely, if ever, swore in her company.

The tension in your frame said everything she needed to know. Your clenched jaw, the way your hand flexed and then balled into a fist by your side, all screamed one thing: you loathed the man in front of you.

Haley felt her blood begin to boil, mirroring your intensity. You’d never told her exactly what had happened during your time with Joja, but the bitterness in your expression now, the way your muscles coiled like you were ready to fight, painted a vivid enough picture. That, and the sight of Morris’s condescending grin, was enough to make her want to deck the man herself.

"Miss Y/n!" Morris's oily voice filled the space, louder than necessary. "What a pleasant surprise! I finally got ahold of you." His gaze flicked briefly to Haley, dismissing her with barely a glance before returning to you. "When my employee Shane told me the new farmer who’d taken over the rundown farm was named Y/n, I didn’t think it was you at first."

Haley's fists clenched around her grocery bag. Her heart thudded with protective anger, but she said nothing, instead glancing at you from the corner of her eye. The slight twitch in your brow, the way your jaw tightened, and the stiffness in your stance spoke volumes. You were trying to keep calm, but Haley knew it was taking everything in you not to snap.

"Folks kept talking about a lovely farm you've got there," Morris continued, clearly not picking up on the warning signs. Or maybe he simply didn’t care. "Imagine my surprise when I found out you’d gone from our... employee of the month to a simple farmer in the middle of nowhere."

You took a deep breath through your nose, the air between you practically crackling with suppressed emotion. When you finally spoke, your voice was calm—too calm. The kind of calm that preceded a storm.

"Morris," you said curtly, your tone colder than Haley had ever heard it. "Piss off."

Haley's eyes widened slightly at your words. She'd never heard you speak like that before, not even when you were angry. There was venom in your tone, something raw and unfiltered.

"My, my... what foul words you have there, miss," Morris said, raising a hand to cover his mouth in mock disbelief, though his smirk betrayed his true intent. "Anyhow," he continued, his voice oozing false geniality, "I received a call from your mother stating that you had AWOL'ed from your job and left the city. This only spurred me to seek out the new farmer in town with the same name as you. It couldn’t have been a coincidence, right?"

Your jaw clenched, and your knuckles turned white as your nails dug into your palm. Haley could feel the tension radiating off of you like heat from a furnace. "Shut up," you hissed, your tone low but charged.

"But you were sleek," Morris went on, as if he hadn’t heard you—or more likely, chose to ignore you. "For months I tried to get a sight of you. It should have been easy, given how small this town is, but I never caught even a glimpse of you. Tell me, were you avoiding Joja on purpose?"

Haley's stomach churned as she watched you struggle to keep your composure. She'd never seen you like this—on edge, restrained, a storm barely contained behind your eyes.

"I don’t want anything to do with Joja," you spat, your voice trembling slightly, not with fear, but with the effort it took to hold yourself back. "And I don’t want anything to do with my mother. I left Joja for good, and I have no desire to take over that hell of a company."

"Joja needs its heir, Miss Y/n. No matter how far you run, Joja will always be one step behind you." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I’ve already informed your mother of your presence here in Pelican Town, and she is beyond displeased."

Haley saw your breath hitch, your shoulders stiffening as Morris’s words hit their mark.

"You’re wasting your time," you bit out, your voice quieter now, but no less fierce. "I’m not going back, and there’s nothing she—or Joja—can do to change that."

Morris chuckled, a low, condescending sound that made Haley’s skin crawl. His smirk widened, and he tilted his head in mock pity. "Oh, Miss Y/n, you underestimate Joja’s reach. This quaint little farm life of yours is nothing but a detour. We both know that."

Your fists clenched at your sides, trembling slightly, not out of weakness, but from the sheer force of holding yourself together. Your breath came out unsteady, the weight of his words pressing down like an iron vice.

"I don’t care," you spat, your voice cracking under the strain of bottled-up frustration. "I’ve spent blood, sweat, and tears on my grandpa’s farm—making it thrive, grow, and function all on its own. Every single effort I’ve made here has been worth something. Something the company never gave me."

Haley froze, her eyes darting to you. There was a rawness in your voice she wasn’t prepared for, an unguarded glimpse into a part of you she’d never seen.

"Even if I tried—even if I died trying—my mother would never be satisfied with my work," you continued, your voice rising with every word, trembling with pent-up anguish. "So how dare she? How dare she say she’s disappointed in me, like I’m supposed to care, when that’s the only thing she’s ever felt at the very sight of me?"

Morris let out a low hum, his fingers tapping idly against the counter. "Joja is all about hard work, Miss Y/n. Maybe she just hasn’t seen it on you?" His tone was measured, almost bored, but his words were like a needle aimed directly at the cracks in your armor.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the sound harsh and devoid of humor. Haley flinched at the sound, her heart clenching as she watched you unravel.

"Hard work?" you echoed, your voice dripping with venom. "Hard work means nothing to Joja. It doesn’t matter how much I gave, how much of myself I sacrificed, it was never enough. It was never going to be enough."

Morris raised an eyebrow, as if amused by your outburst. "Look," he said with an air of condescension, "the missus, as much as she is strict and calculated, is only doing this to ensure you’re capable of handling the company once she steps down as CEO. Surely, you must be aware of that?"

Haley could see the way your shoulders stiffened, your lips pressing into a tight line, and your chest rising and falling as you struggled to control your breathing. She knew that Morris’s words had struck a nerve, and her patience finally snapped when she saw the flicker of doubt in your eyes.

"She doesn’t care about me being capable," you said quietly, each word laced with bitterness. "She only cares about molding me into her image. Into something I’m not—and something I never want to be."

Haley stepped forward without hesitation, planting herself firmly between you and Morris, her eyes blazing with a fury that caught everyone off guard.

"Sorry to intrude," she began sharply, her tone like ice, "but have you even seen Y/n’s farm? That place was a dump before she came here, and now it’s practically a well-oiled machine. Her farm has boosted this town’s economy more than you and Pierre’s businesses combined. And you know why?" Haley tilted her head, her voice turning venomous. "Because of Y/n’s dedication and hard work. So don’t you dare stand there and act like you have the right to judge who’s ‘working hard’ when you couldn’t lift a finger to do it yourself."

Morris’s smug expression faltered for the first time, but he quickly recovered, his smirk widening as he saw an opportunity to strike back. "Ah, I see what’s going on here," he drawled, his tone dripping with condescension. "If you really want your fair share of Joja’s wealth, you should convince your girlfriend here to come back to Zuzu City and manage the company like the true Joja she is." His eyes gleamed maliciously. "Though I doubt the missus would approve of this... kind of relationship."

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. Stepping forward, you shoved Morris back a step, your voice low and dangerous. "Fuck off. You don’t get to disrespect her like that."

Morris’s smugness wavered, but he tried to rally. "But I—"

"I don’t want to hear another word from you," you snapped, your tone brooking no argument. "Leave. Now."

Morris opened his mouth to retort, but Haley cut him off, her glare sharper than a knife. "You heard her. Get lost."

Morris huffed, his composure cracking slightly. "Hmph. I’m not leaving until I distribute my 50%-off Joja coupons to these fine customers." He raised his voice, addressing the room. "Anyone who wants a discount, feel free to take one from me."

Before the murmurs could start, you turned sharply to Pierre. "No one moves a foot," you commanded, your voice firm and unyielding. "Pierre."

"H-huh?" Pierre stammered, clearly caught off guard.

"Everyone shopping here right now—everything in their carts, ring it up. Put it on my tab," you said decisively. "I don’t care how much it costs. I’ll stop by later to settle the bill."

Pierre blinked, stunned, before nodding quickly. "O-okay. Got it."

You turned back to Morris, your voice colder than ice. "No one here wants your fucking coupons. Get the hell out."

Morris narrowed his eyes, clearly frustrated but unable to retaliate effectively. "You can’t pay for their tabs forever, Miss Y/n," he sneered. "Not with the little money your farm is making."

A smirk tugged at your lips, sharp and defiant. "You haven’t seen the progress of my farm, have you?" you asked, your voice filled with quiet triumph. "Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you never do. By the end of the year, the community center will be fully restored, and Joja—" you jabbed a finger toward him, "Joja will never taint this town again."

Morris’s face darkened, but he said nothing as you turned to Pierre and motioned to the grocery bag you took from Haley. "Please ring this up as well, Pierre."

****

"Y/n... are you okay?" Haley's voice was soft, tentative, her usual sharpness dulled by concern.

You didn’t meet her eyes, your voice steady but distant. "I’ll walk you home, and then I’ll get going. I need to be alone for a while."

Haley hesitated, searching your face for something—anything—that would let her help. But all she found was a wall she couldn’t push past. "Oh... okay," she murmured.

****

The walk to her house was quiet, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. When you reached her door, Haley turned, her expression uncertain. "It’s only a raincheck, right?" she asked, her voice almost hopeful. "You’re not canceling our movie night?"

You gave her a small, tired smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Hmm. Maybe we can do it tomorrow instead."

Haley nodded slowly, watching as you turned to leave. "I’ll see you later, Y/n," she called softly, her voice lingering in the quiet night.

You didn’t look back, but you lifted a hand in acknowledgment before disappearing into the shadows. Haley watched you go, her chest tight with a mix of worry and something else she couldn’t quite name.

****

After you had dropped her off at her home, she moved quickly towards her kitchen, her movements deliberate as she retrieved a well-worn piece of paper. A single recipe sat tucked away for ages, something she hadn’t thought she’d use anytime soon. Yet, here she was, baking in autopilot, determined to bring you something that might make the silence a little more bearable.

It only sank in for Haley that you might have been serious about wanting to be alone for a moment when you opened the door to your farm after she knocked.

Well... No going back now.

"Hey..." she greeted hesitantly, her voice soft and uncertain. "I know you said you wanted to be alone, but I just... I thought it would be unfair that you're always there for me when I need you, and I left you alone just because you asked me to."

You didn’t speak immediately. The silence between you stretched, heavy with unspoken thoughts. For a moment, Haley worried she had crossed a line, overstepped some boundary. But before she could apologize, you offered her a faint, weak smile—a small curve of your lips, almost imperceptible, but a smile nonetheless.

"Are those cookies...?" you asked softly, your eyes landing on the tray she held out.

"Granny Evelyn's secret recipe. Freshly baked from the oven." Haley’s voice was gentle, almost a whisper. "Thought this might cheer you up."

You took a slow breath, the air between you carrying a quiet weight.

"Of course, you’re always welcome here, silly, with or without cookies," you said softly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes.

"You say that but wait until you have a taste in them first," she teased, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I'm sure they'll taste delicious. Come," you urged, motioning her inside. "It's freezing outside."

"Thanks," she murmured, stepping past you into the warmth of the house.

"These your stuff?" you asked, noticing the bags she struggled to carry. "You should have called me so I could have helped you bring them here. It must have been a tough walk from your home."

"Yeah... sorry, I know it's a lot. Had to bring my skincare, you know?" she replied with a sheepish smile, setting the bags down on the worn wooden floor.

"Heh, if I didn't know you any better, I’d think you were moving in," you joked, giving her a playful nudge.

"Shut up, goof."

"Now, now... I didn’t say I was exactly opposed to the idea, m'lady," you continued, a grin tugging at your lips. "I would love it actually. It’s getting kind of lonely in here, you know? Sometimes I even question myself why I asked Robin to renovate the house this big when I’m all by myself."

"What? So you're saying you wanted me to stay here?"

"Would it be so bad?" you asked with a playful shrug.

"Perhaps? Especially if you're supposed to be saying these sappy things to your girlfriend." Haley's tone was teasing, but her smile faltered slightly as she added, "Yoba... I just realized. Penny won't be mad if I stayed the night, right? Or would she?"

"Huh? Why would she?" you asked, confused.

"Isn't she—" Haley began as she walked towards your room.

"Wait, Haley—" you called after her, a hint of worry in your voice, but it was too late.

"Oh..." Haley paused at the sight that greeted her eyes—bouquets placed carefully on your bed, sunflowers nestled in among them. You were arranging them yourself, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting a warm light on the delicate petals.

It took a moment for Haley to gather her thoughts. Her mind raced a thousand miles per hour, processing what she saw and the implications behind it.

"I thought you'd given Penny the—the uhm..." she began hesitantly.

"The bouquet?" you finished, your voice quiet. "What made you think so? And how'd you even know I have a bouquet?"

"I think what you mean is 'who else didn't know you'd bought a bouquet'," she replied, a sly smile creeping onto her face.

"Damn it, Pierre." You ran a hand through your hair, cursing under your breath. "Shit— you aren't supposed to see all these."

"I bought this days ago and I couldn't find the guts to give it to you. I guess I was waiting for the perfect timing or maybe I was chickening out. Shit, I don't really know..." you murmured, your voice shaky as you ruffled your hair anxiously. "All I know is the flowers dried out because I was a coward, and now I was planning to spend the whole night replacing the flowers with sunflowers instead of having our movie night because I'm mentally and emotionally unable to think straight because of what happened with Morris earlier, and now I'm babbling this to you like a fool and—"

You sighed heavily as you walked toward the edge of the bed, keeping your gaze firmly away from her. The bouquet lay forgotten on the bedspread, the sunflowers blending with the faded, dried-out petals of the original flowers.

"Breathe, Y/n." Haley’s voice was soft and soothing, her expression gentle as she stepped closer, her eyes warm and understanding. "It’s just me."

"Breathe... I can do that," you said, taking a slow breath and closing your eyes for a moment to collect yourself.

"Now..." Haley continued, a teasing smile playing at her lips, "Can you clarify the part about who you were planning to give the bouquet to because I’m a bit slow and I’m going to have to assume it’s me if you don’t."

"It's for you," you finally confessed, your voice barely a whisper. "I thought the sunflower already gave it away?"

"I..." Haley’s brows furrowed slightly, her voice softening as her expression turned thoughtful. "I thought you liked someone else..."

"And I thought I was pretty obvious," you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

"You probably would have if I hadn't seen you treating others the same way you do to me," Haley said, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression was thoughtful, but there was a hint of uncertainty behind her eyes. "I don't really want to assume."

"But I don’t treat others the same way I treat you," you replied gently, your voice calm and steady.

"Giving favored gifts to every possible living thing you can see, walking Penny home, exploring mines with Abigail, painting with Leah..." Haley paused, glaring at you with a raised brow when she noticed the corner of your mouth twitch into a sly grin. "Do you honestly want me to continue the list?"

"No, no need. I got the message," you said with a soft chuckle, shaking your head as you stepped closer to her. You reached out slowly, taking her hands in yours with a tenderness that spoke volumes. Your thumb brushed gently against her knuckles, grounding the moment in a sense of intimacy that neither of you could ignore.

As your touch lingered, Haley’s breath hitched for a moment, and the rapid beating in her heart began to slow. What was once chaotic and unsure began to calm down, her mind finding clarity amidst the confusion.

"But for you... everything is complex," you continued, your voice steady, eyes locked onto hers. There was a sincerity in your gaze, a vulnerability in your words that couldn’t be dismissed. "And I don’t mean it as a bad thing. You made me second-guess everything I do. I was afraid I was being too obvious because I was doing too much. I was afraid that what I was doing bypassed everything I thought should be normal between friends. I was scared I was doing too much that I might scare you away."

Haley let out a soft, watery laugh, a quiet chuckle that broke through the tension between you both. She shook her head lightly, realizing you were both overthinking the same thing all along.

"So yeah... everything I did, everything I said from the start—it was never casual," you finished, your voice gentle but unwavering. "Simply because I like you, Haley. I’ve liked you for a long time."

There was a long, charged pause. It probably felt like an eternity to you, but it could’ve only been a minute or two—maybe more. You weren’t sure anymore. If the roles were reversed, if Haley were in your place, she would’ve bolted in embarrassment, rushing back to her home to cry her heart out the moment you didn’t respond to her confession.

But this is you. You have always been patient. You still wore the same loving face the moment you started your confession and the moment you let out the last word. Nevermind your face is in a deep shade of red.

"You..." she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper. "You fucking idiot!"

"Huh?" you managed, taken aback by the sudden outburst.

Before you could process what was happening, her fists slammed hard against your chest. The force wasn’t enough to cause real pain, but the impact was enough to send a slight jolt through you. You wheezed softly between bursts of laughter, breath escaping in short bursts as she continued her assault.

"You liked me all this time and you didn’t say it earlier?!" she demanded, her voice rising with each word.

You let out another laugh, struggling for air as her fists smacked your chest again. At this point, it wasn’t about the physical impact—it was the sheer force of emotion behind it.

You must have had enough with Haley's fists dealing little to no damage on your ribcage because the moment she lifted her hands to strike again, you caught them gently in yours and leaned down to capture her lips, silencing the stream of profanities leaving her mouth.

When your lips finally parted, a brief, lingering pause stretched between you both, the air thick with emotions you both hadn't fully acknowledged yet.

"You could have said you liked me, y'know? No need to hit me." You said softly, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you pulled back.

"I hate you," she grumbled, her expression softening despite the harsh words. Her gaze lowered, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks as the embarrassment of her outburst settled in.

"You don’t." You sounded far too smug, watching her squirm just a bit. "Emily said so."

Haley’s brow furrowed deeply as the realization dawned. Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes narrowed in disbelief. She thought back to that conversation, recalling her sister’s confident assurance. "You know about the bet all this time?!"

"Yup." Your grin widened.

She stared at you, her expression a mix of incredulity and irritation. "You asked my sister if you have a chance with me, didn’t you?"

You smirked but remained silent, letting the unspoken answer hang in the air.

"Good Yoba… Why did I have to like such an idiot dork." She huffed, puffing out a breath as her frustration began to give way to amusement. Her lips twitched into a small smile despite herself. "Come here and let me wipe that stupid smirk from your face."

"You'll do that by?"

Her eyes rolled again, but the playful edge remained as she replied with a small, amused grin. "By kissing it off you, what else?"

~~~~~~

taglist:

@joordynn

@taliiiaasteria

@iluvwomen01

@tekanparadiae

@slug-on-bike

@prlan

@mit-suri

#stardew valley #stardew haley #stardew farmer #stardew fanfic #haley x farmer #haley x female farmer #haley x reader #stardew emily #kissitoffme

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