#and I’m overthinking the lyrics now

[sad-emo-dip-dye]

The season 1 ending came up on my shuffle and I just about fell to my knees I forgot how much I love that song

[faebled-stories]

No Strings, No Heart

Kinkvember Day 23: Friends with Benefits

ITZY Lia (Choi Jisu) x Male reader

13.3k words

You and Lia had been friends since high school, back when neither of you had any idea what life would have in store. She had been the new girl, fresh from Canada, with a soft-spoken voice and an air of quiet confidence that intrigued everyone, including you. You’d been assigned seats next to each other in English class, and what started as casual small talk soon grew into a friendship you hadn’t expected.

Lia, or Jisu as she’d been known then, had dreams even back then that set her apart. While most of your classmates were focused on cramming for college entrance exams or deciding what clubs to join, Lia was already chasing something bigger: a career in music. She was always humming under her breath, jotting lyrics in the margins of her notebook, and rushing off to auditions after school.

When she finally became a trainee, it wasn’t a surprise, but it did mark the start of a more distant phase in your friendship. She spent most of her time at the company, training long hours, while you finished school and moved on to university.

Despite the distance, you kept in touch—texts here and there, occasional coffee meetups when she had a rare free day. When she debuted with ITZY, you were one of the first to congratulate her, your heart swelling with pride as you watched her music videos and performances from your tiny apartment.

Even as her life grew more hectic, Lia never let go of your connection. Whenever her schedule allowed, she’d call you up, sometimes late at night, her voice exhausted but warm as she asked about your day, complaining about the pressures of idol life in the same breath. She was still Jisu to you, your old high school friend, even as the world knew her as Lia.

-----

It was one of those late-night meetups—a rainy evening in her cozy Seoul apartment—that changed the dynamic between you. Her space smelled of vanilla candles and faintly of jasmine tea, her usual go-to after a long day. You sat awkwardly on her beige couch, holding a mug that was almost too hot, watching her as she lounged on the floor, cross-legged in an oversized sweater and shorts.

“You’re always so tense,” Lia said suddenly, her voice cutting through the soft patter of rain against the windows. Her damp hair fell in natural waves around her face, framing her features in a way that was almost disarming. This was not the poised, camera-ready idol the world saw. This was the Lia you knew—barefoot, casual, real.

You chuckled nervously, unsure where she was going with this. “Work’s been crazy, I guess.”

“That’s always your excuse,” she teased, setting down her mug with a soft clink. “But honestly, you’ve been like this since high school. Always wound up. Always overthinking.”

“Well, sorry for being consistent,” you shot back, a smile tugging at your lips.

She smiled too, but there was something different in her expression—something calculated yet sincere. “You know, we could help each other out.”

Your brow furrowed. “Help each other out… how?”

Lia tilted her head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “I don’t want anything complicated,” she began, her tone careful but confident. “No drama, no commitments. Just… something easy. For both of us.”

The words felt surreal, hanging in the air between you. “Wait, are you saying…?”

“I’m saying,” she interrupted, her voice softer now, “that we’re both stressed. Both stuck in our own routines. And you’re… safe.”

“Safe?” you echoed, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

Lia rolled her eyes, laughing. “You know what I mean. I trust you. You’re not going to do anything stupid like fall in love with me. And let’s be honest—you’ve never been great with relationships.”

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, though you couldn’t deny the accuracy of her words. Dating had never come easily to you, and Lia knew it better than anyone.

“I’m just saying it makes sense,” she said, her smile softening into something almost reassuring. “We’ve known each other forever. We trust each other. And I need… an escape, you know? A way to blow off steam without it becoming a mess.”

You hesitated, turning the idea over in your head. “I don’t know, Lia. Stuff like this—doesn’t it get messy?”

“Not if we’re honest with each other,” she said simply. “We set boundaries. We stick to them. And if it doesn’t work, we stop. No harm, no foul.”

Her words were logical, almost too logical, and the idea of being close to someone you trusted—someone who understood you without the usual complications—was more tempting than you wanted to admit.

“I… guess,” you said finally, your voice tinged with hesitation. “If you’re sure about this.”

Lia’s smile widened, a spark of relief and something else—satisfaction?—in her eyes. “I’m sure.”

And just like that, the boundaries of your friendship shifted. You told yourself it was perfect—a way to connect without risking anything deeper.

The first few times were… great. Better than great. There was an ease to it that neither of you had anticipated, a natural rhythm that made it feel less like a new arrangement and more like something that had always been there, waiting to be discovered. The way your bodies fit together was effortless, as though they’d been designed for this connection, every touch and movement aligning perfectly. It wasn’t just about the physical pleasure—though that was undeniable—it was the comfort of being close to someone who understood you in a way no one else did.

Lia had a way of melting into your arms, her laughter and sighs carrying a vulnerability that made the moments feel intimate even in their simplicity. You liked similar things, and exploring that together felt easy, seamless. The way her breath hitched against your skin, the way she responded to every touch with a soft moan or a shiver, made it feel less like an arrangement and more like a quiet escape for both of you.

When she reached for you in the stillness of her room, there was no hesitation, no awkwardness—just a mutual understanding that you could let go with each other.

It was everything she had promised: no drama, no complications. It was a release, a way to step outside the stress of your individual lives and find solace in each other. You told yourself that this was enough, that it didn’t need to mean anything more. And for a while, it didn’t.

But then, one night, everything shifted.

The atmosphere in Lia’s room felt thick with the unspoken, a cocoon of warmth and intimacy as the world outside faded away. The soft scent of jasmine and the lingering notes of her perfume were a quiet contrast to the faint tension in her voice as she spoke.

“It’s been… such a day,” she said with a sigh, leaning back against the headboard, her oversized sweater slipping from one shoulder. Her fingers idly played with the hem, a distraction as she tried to put her thoughts into words. “I feel like everyone wanted a piece of me today. The schedules, the cameras, the smiles—they don’t stop.”

You nodded, sitting close enough to her that the faintest brush of her knee against yours sent sparks up your spine. “You don’t have to explain. I can see it,” you said softly, meeting her eyes. “You’re always carrying so much.”

Her lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “Sometimes, I wish I could just turn it all off. Just… for a little while.”

“You can, here,” you offered, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. “You don’t have to be anything but you.”

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch your arm, her fingers grazing your skin. “That’s why I asked you to come tonight,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost fragile. “I need this. I need you.”

The weight of her words hit you with a force you weren’t entirely prepared for, but you nodded, leaning in slightly. “I’m here,” you said simply, your hand finding hers and squeezing gently.

The next moments unfolded slowly, deliberately, as if neither of you wanted to rush. Her sweater slipped further, pooling around her elbows as she lifted it over her head and let it fall to the floor. Her body, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, was breathtaking. She looked up at you, her eyes steady but vulnerable, as if daring you to say something, to break the spell.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, the words escaping before you could stop them.

A soft laugh escaped her, and she reached up to brush your cheek. “You’re such a sap,” she teased, though her voice was warm, her expression soft. “But I like it.”

You leaned in to kiss her, your lips meeting in a slow, deliberate connection. It started tenderly, a gentle brush of warmth, but quickly deepened, your hands finding her waist, her hips, exploring the curve of her body. She gasped softly against your lips, her hands sliding under your shirt to tug it off, the cool air of the room making your skin prickle as she traced patterns along your chest.

Guiding her back against the bed, you hovered over her, her hair spilling across the pillow in soft waves like a dark halo. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her features, her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips evidence of the moment’s growing intensity. Her hands found your shoulders, her touch steady but eager as her breath quickened. The feel of her bare skin against yours, the warmth of her body beneath you, sent a rush of heat through you.

Before moving further, you paused, reaching for the small foil packet on the bedside table. Lia watched you, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, her gaze steady yet filled with trust. You slipped the condom on quickly, her hand brushing lightly against your arm in a silent gesture of reassurance.

As you align yourself with her, you paused again, your gaze locking onto hers. “Are you ready?” you asked softly, the weight of your question hanging in the quiet space between you.

Her lips curled into a faint smile, and her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. “Absolutely, I need this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with unmistakable longing. “I need you.”

The moment of joining was slow, deliberate, her body tensing slightly as you pressed into her. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, her fingers tightening on your shoulders, her nails faintly digging in as she adjusted to the closeness. You paused, giving her time, your heart pounding in sync with hers. Her breaths quickened, each rise and fall of her chest matching the rhythm you were beginning to create. The heat of her skin against yours was all-consuming, grounding and electrifying all at once.

You began to move, slow and measured, each motion deliberate. Her soft moans and quiet gasps filled the air, small sounds that spurred you on, each one sending shivers down your spine. Her hands roamed your back, nails occasionally dragging across your skin, her hips lifting instinctively to meet yours. The connection between you was unspoken but undeniable, a rhythm building that felt less like something physical and more like a quiet surrender.

Her lips parted as she whispered your name, her voice soft and trembling, a plea that made your chest ache. The way she looked up at you took your breath away. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes fluttering open and shut, and the vulnerability in her gaze made you falter for a moment. You’d always thought Lia was beautiful, but here, now, she was something more—raw, open, and completely unguarded. Every quiet sound she made, every brush of her hands against you, seemed to weave a thread between you that went far beyond the act itself.

Your pace deepened, becoming more deliberate as you leaned down to capture her lips. Her response was immediate, her mouth opening to you as her hands slid into your hair, pulling you closer. The heat between you grew, a symphony of gasps, moans, and murmured words filling the space. Her legs tightened around your waist, her body pressing into yours as if to pull you even closer.

You pulled back slightly, your lips trailing down her jawline to her neck, brushing over the delicate curve of her throat. Her skin was warm and flushed beneath your touch, and you felt her shiver as your mouth moved lower, pressing kisses behind her ear. The spot you’d discovered during your time together—the one that always drove her wild. Her reaction was immediate, a soft gasp escaping her lips as her body arched into you.

Her hands clung to your shoulders as your lips continued their path, down her collarbone and toward the swell of her chest. You paused for a moment, letting your tongue flick gently over the sensitive skin there, before capturing one of her nipples between your lips. Lia let out a low, trembling moan, her nails digging into your back as you lavished attention on her. You alternated between gentle kisses and firmer, more deliberate nips, her body responding to each one with a sharp intake of breath or a soft cry.

Your free hand roamed over her body, sliding along the curve of her waist and the dip of her hips. You teased her other breast with your fingertips, rolling and brushing against her skin in time with the rhythm of your lips. Her body writhed beneath you, her hips lifting instinctively as if to draw you closer, the heat between you growing with every touch.

From her chest, your lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of warmth across her stomach. Lia’s breathing grew heavier, her hands tangling in your hair as you moved lower, savoring the way her body reacted to every press of your lips, every flick of your tongue. Her quiet whimpers and soft moans filled the room, a soundtrack to the intimacy building between you.

You moved back up, your mouth returning to the curve of her neck, brushing kisses along her jawline before finding her lips again. The kiss was deep and consuming, her hands pulling you closer as though she couldn’t get enough of you. Her legs tightened around your waist once more, her body pressing into yours as the rhythm between you grew more urgent, more deliberate.

Her reactions—each shiver, each soft cry, each whispered plea—fueled you, blurring the line between physical connection and something deeper. You knew every spot that made her tremble, every touch that left her gasping, and you used them all, the intimacy between you growing with each passing moment. It wasn’t just her body you craved—it was her trust, her surrender, the way she opened herself to you completely, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

Her voice broke through your focus, her breathless words trembling as she gasped, “You feel so good… Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” you murmured, your voice hoarse and strained, barely able to contain the emotions coursing through you. Her flushed cheeks, the vulnerability in her gaze, the way her body clung to yours—it all struck you in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

The tension between you built steadily, every motion pulling you both closer to a precipice. Her moans grew louder, breaking into desperate cries as her body moved in sync with yours. Her hips met you with an urgency that matched your own, and her hands tightened their grip on your shoulders, her nails dragging against your skin.

“I’m so close,” she whimpered, her voice trembling and raw in a way that sent shivers through you. Her head tilted back, her body arching beautifully beneath you as she clung to you like you were her lifeline. “I—oh my god, I’m cumming… I love it, don’t stop, please.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, the raw need in her voice breaking through every wall you’d built around your feelings. Her climax overtook her in a wave, her body trembling violently as she cried out, her voice unguarded and desperate. The sight of her face, twisted in pure ecstasy, sent a jolt through you. Her name fell from her lips like a prayer, her body shuddering as she reached the peak, clutching at you with a force that left no doubt of the depth of her release.

And then, it hit you—seeing her like this, so open, so completely undone, you realized something you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to be the only one to give her this feeling. The thought struck like lightning, leaving you trembling even as your own release loomed. It wasn’t just about the act—it was about her, about how much you wanted to hold onto this moment, this connection, this vulnerability that was uniquely hers.

Your climax followed, surging through you in powerful, unrelenting waves as you buried your face in her neck. A guttural groan escaped you, your body trembling with the intensity of it. The warmth of your release pooled into the condom, each pulse carrying with it the weight of everything you’d been holding back. The sensations were overwhelming, magnified by the realization that this wasn’t casual for you anymore. Maybe it never had been.

Even as the waves subsided, you stayed close, holding her tightly against you. Her fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns along your back, her touch grounding you as your heart pounded against hers. Her breaths were soft, mingling with your own in the quiet aftermath. The intimacy of the moment was almost too much, yet you didn’t want it to end.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, your heart still racing as you pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips curved into a faint, tired smile, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with unspoken emotions that neither of you seemed ready to name.

You leaned back carefully, slipping out of her with a quiet groan as her body shuddered at the loss of closeness. Reaching down, you removed the condom, tying it off as you moved to the side of the bed. Lia’s gaze followed you, her cheeks still rosy from the exertion, and when her eyes landed on what you held, her lips quirked into a teasing smile.

“Wow,” she said, her voice still breathy but laced with playful amusement. “You’ve been… pent up, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the tension between you easing slightly at her tone. “Yeah, maybe a little,” you admitted, your voice still low and rough from the intensity of the moment.

She laughed, a soft, light sound that made your chest tighten again, her fingers brushing over your arm as if to reassure you. “I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said, her smile widening slightly as she leaned back against the pillow, her gaze softening.

In that moment, as you looked at her—flushed, vulnerable, yet teasing—you couldn’t ignore the shift that had happened. Whatever boundaries had existed between you before were gone, and the weight of that realization lingered, pressing gently against your heart.

You stood, disposing of the condom in the bathroom, your mind still reeling from everything that had just unfolded. The intensity of the moment lingered, but it wasn’t just the physical closeness that consumed you—it was the emotions swelling in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tried to push the thoughts aside as you cleaned up, focusing on the simple motions as a way to steady yourself.

When you returned to the bed, Lia was already nestled under the blankets, her cheeks still faintly flushed, her hair spilling over the pillow in soft waves. She looked up at you, her eyes warm and inviting, and without a word, she lifted the blanket in a silent invitation. It was a gesture you’d grown accustomed to—a familiar rhythm that had followed these nights together. But this time, something about it felt heavier, weighted with an unspoken shift between you.

You climbed into bed beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. She moved closer almost instinctively, her body curling into yours, her head resting against your chest as her arm draped across your stomach. The warmth of her, the way she fit so perfectly against you, was both comforting and terrifying.

Her breathing began to slow, her body relaxing as if this was the most natural thing in the world. And it was—for her. For you, though, the usual ease wasn’t there. You lay stiffly, staring up at the ceiling as a moment of dread washed over you.

You’ve broken the rules.

It hit you with the weight of a confession you’d been avoiding for weeks, maybe months. You’d convinced yourself this was fine, that you could keep things casual, that it was just a way to connect without getting too close. But tonight had shattered that illusion. You weren’t just drawn to Lia—you’d fallen for her.

Your chest tightened as the realization settled in. The way she laughed, the way she trusted you enough to let her guard down, the way she made you feel seen in a way no one else ever had—it wasn’t just something you could brush aside anymore. It was real, and it was terrifying.

You glanced down at her, your heart aching as you took in the soft curve of her lips, the peaceful expression on her face. She looked so at ease, so content, and you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb that. But the weight of your feelings pressed heavily against your chest, threatening to suffocate you.

Lia shifted slightly, her arm tightening around you as if sensing your tension. “You’re quiet,” she murmured, her voice drowsy but laced with curiosity. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper as you forced yourself to relax beneath her touch. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Because as much as you wanted to stay in this moment—her warmth, her closeness—you knew that everything had changed. You’d crossed a line you couldn’t uncross, and now you weren’t sure what to do.

-----

The weeks that followed were an emotional minefield. Every stolen glance, every shared laugh, every moment Lia curled up beside you after an intense night—all of it dug deeper into the growing pit in your chest. It wasn’t just about intimacy anymore; it was everything. The way she smiled at you, her guard let down for just a moment. The way she playfully mocked your quirks, grounding you with the ease of someone who knew you better than anyone. You craved her in ways that went beyond physical. You wanted all of her—her bad days, her hopes, her fears, and everything in between.

But you couldn’t say it.

The rules had always been clear: no emotions, no strings, no complications. Lia had built walls around herself, walls you understood were necessary given her chaotic life. Your arrangement was her sanctuary, an escape from the pressures of her career, her fame, and the unrelenting expectations placed on her shoulders. You told yourself that being her safe space was enough. It had to be.

That night had started like many others, but it carried a weight you couldn’t ignore. As the moment reached its peak, Lia shifted downward, her lips trailing across your skin with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers coursing through you. When her mouth finally enveloped you, a deep groan escaped your lips, your hand instinctively tangling in her hair.

Her movements were teasing but purposeful, each flick of her tongue measured to drive you closer to the edge. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with mischief yet laced with something softer, something deeper. “You’ve been so stiff lately,” she murmured, her breath warm against you before continuing, her voice low and sultry as her tongue worked with maddening precision.

The intimacy overwhelmed you, her familiarity with your body leaving you utterly undone. She knew exactly how to unravel you, to find the places that made you tremble, the rhythm that pushed you to your breaking point. When your release finally overtook you, it was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing through you with an intensity that left you trembling. Your fingers tightened briefly in her hair as a hoarse gasp escaped you, the heat of the moment leaving you breathless.

Lia pulled back gently, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She moved back up to lie beside you, her body fitting against yours with an ease that should have felt comforting. But this time, it didn’t. This time, it felt different.

She settled against you, her head resting on your chest, her breathing steady and calm. Her hair tickled your skin, her warmth both soothing and torturous as a quiet dread began to build in your chest. It wasn’t just physical anymore—this was heavier, filled with emotions you couldn’t keep bottled up.

Before you could stop yourself, the words rose in your throat. “Jisu,” you began softly, her name catching in your throat.

She hummed in response, her eyes still closed, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Hmm?”

“Do you ever think…” You hesitated, the words feeling too heavy, too dangerous. But they pushed forward anyway, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you ever think this could be something more?”

Her eyes opened slowly, the smile fading as her expression shifted into something unreadable. She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling in soft waves around her face, the sheets slipping slightly off her shoulder. Her gaze met yours, searching and cautious, and the seconds stretched into an eternity.

“Why are you asking?” she asked softly, her tone carrying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your heart raced, panic rising in your chest as you scrambled for a response. “I was just thinking,” you lied, the words tumbling out too quickly. “It’s nothing. I don’t know, just… a thought.”

Her expression didn’t change, her gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before she sat up fully. Wrapping the blanket around herself like a shield, her voice was calm but resolute as she said, “Hmm, no, I don’t think so. The reason this works is because it’s casual. If we start complicating things, it’ll ruin everything.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, sharp and cutting in their finality. You nodded slowly, forcing a smile you didn’t feel. “Oh… yeah… You’re right. Forget I said anything.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She lay back down, resting her head on your chest again as if nothing had happened. Her breathing evened out, her warmth against you a cruel comfort. But for you, everything had changed.

The words you’d been holding back, the feelings you’d buried, wouldn’t stay quiet anymore. They clawed at you, louder with every passing day, until the very thought of continuing like this felt unbearable. You had broken the rules, and the weight of that truth suffocated you in ways you hadn’t thought possible.

-----

Over time you tried convinced yourself to accept her boundaries, telling yourself that being with Lia on her terms was better than not having her at all. But that fragile resolve cracked wide open the day you saw the article.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind of day meant for doing nothing. Sunlight spilled through your apartment windows, painting the floor in golden streaks as you scrolled absently through your phone. Outside, the faint hum of the city mixed with the rhythmic ticking of the clock, a peaceful backdrop to your aimless thoughts.

Then your phone buzzed, pulling you from the haze of routine. Without thinking, you tapped the notification.

The headline hit like a physical blow: "ITZY’s Lia Spotted on a Romantic Date with beloved Idol."

Your stomach tightened instantly, a sharp ache blooming in your chest as you scrolled through the accompanying photos. Each swipe felt like tearing open a wound. There she was, walking arm-in-arm with another idol. The soft rustling of the park’s trees in the background, the dappled sunlight falling on their faces—it all looked so serene, so effortless. Their casual clothes hinted at an attempt to keep things discreet, but the atmosphere around them screamed intimacy.

And then one photo stopped you cold.

Her head tilted slightly, her hair catching the sunlight like a halo. Her eyes—soft and filled with a warmth that felt painfully familiar—were fixed on him. She was smiling, bright and genuine, the corners of her lips curving in a way that was devastatingly effortless. That smile was reserved for someone special. Someone who wasn’t you.

Your chest ached, a dull yet unrelenting pain spreading through you as you stared at the screen. The world around you seemed to fade, the sunlight that had once felt comforting now harsh and uninviting. The faint hum of the city became muffled, replaced by the deafening rush of your own thoughts.

Has she ever looked at you like that? Has she ever smiled at you in that way, with that kind of quiet adoration? A part of you knew the answer, even if you didn’t want to admit it. The answer cut deeper than anything she’d ever said or done.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you stared at the image, the knot in your stomach tightening with each passing moment. You could almost hear her laugh in your head, see the way she looked at you during your private moments together. But it wasn’t the same. It had never been the same.

The sharp buzz of another notification snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. Lia’s name flashed across the screen, her message simple: “Are you free?”

The words sat at the top of your screen, directly above the article. The juxtaposition was cruel, a perfect encapsulation of everything that had been tearing you apart. Your thumb hovered over the notification, your mind swirling with a chaotic mix of emotions—anger, hurt, jealousy, longing. Every rational part of you screamed not to reply. To protect yourself. To draw a line before it was too late.

But as always, your heart betrayed you.

The faint sound of your breathing filled the room, shallow and uneven as you tapped her message. You opened the chat, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed the only thing you knew how to say to her.

"Yeah, I’ll be there."

The moment you hit send, the weight in your chest seemed to shift, but it didn’t lift. Instead, it settled deeper, anchoring itself to the realization you were too afraid to face: no matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t walk away. Not from her. Not yet.

-----

Lia greeted you at her apartment door with the same casual ease as always, dressed in a loose sweatshirt that hung just off one shoulder and shorts that left little to the imagination. Her hair was tied back loosely, and the faint scent of her lavender body lotion hung in the air as she stepped aside to let you in. She smiled, warm and familiar, but to you, it felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Hey,” she said softly, leaning casually against the doorframe. Her tone carried a cheerfulness that felt almost jarring compared to the turmoil swirling inside you. “Rough day?”

You swallowed hard, your thoughts tangled with the image of the article’s photos. The memory of her walking arm-in-arm with someone else clung to you like a shadow, an ache that wouldn’t loosen its grip. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice flat. “Something like that.”

Her brows knitted slightly, a flicker of concern crossing her face before she masked it with another smile, softer this time. “Come in,” she said gently, stepping aside. “Let me fix you some tea or something.”

You followed her inside, the familiar warmth of her cozy apartment stirring something deep and painful within you. The dim lighting, the scent of jasmine mingling with lavender, the soft hum of a playlist you knew by heart—it should have felt comforting, but tonight it only made the ache worse. To her, everything seemed normal, unchanged. But to you, every gesture, every laugh, felt magnified, a sharp contrast to the images still burned into your mind.

She led you to the couch, her steps light and unbothered, her usual ease a stark reminder of how differently you were experiencing this moment. She sat close to you, her knee brushing against yours as she turned to face you fully. “You seem tense,” she said softly, her voice lowering into something soothing. Her hand rested lightly on yours, her touch simple yet disarming, as if she could sense the weight pressing down on you. “Let me help.”

You hesitated, the memory of her smile in those photos flashing through your mind. The warmth she had shown to someone else, the intimacy of it, felt like a stark contrast to the Lia sitting here with you now. Part of you wanted to pull back, to say something, to ask her what that meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Her touch, her presence—it was too much to resist, and before you could think better of it, her lips were on yours.

The kiss was familiar, practiced, but this time, it felt different. Your movements were slower, less certain. A part of you wanted to push her away, to demand answers, but the other part—the part of you that craved her touch, her presence—won. You kissed her back, the frustration and longing coiling tightly in your chest, fueling your every move.

Her hands slid beneath your shirt, tugging at it with the ease of someone who knew you too well. Your resolve crumbled under her touch, the confrontation slipping further from your mind. It could wait, you told yourself. For now, you let the emotions swirling within you—frustration, jealousy, and something darker—take over.

By the time you reached the bedroom, something inside you had shifted. The weight of your suppressed emotions guided your actions, a storm of unspoken feelings driving every touch, every motion. You turned her toward the bed, your hand firm on her shoulder as you eased her down to her knees.

Without a word, you unbuttoned your pants, the sound of the zipper cutting through the quiet room like a spark igniting the air. Lia’s eyes followed the motion, her gaze flicking downward before snapping back up to meet yours. Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before melting into something softer, almost eager. When you pressed yourself to her lips, her hesitation was brief. Her hands found their place on your thighs, steadying herself as she took you in.

The shift in her was immediate. This wasn’t like before—this wasn’t the usual playful or restrained dynamic between you. You gripped her hair firmly, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you guided her movements. Lia’s soft, muffled moan against you sent a shiver down your spine, the vibration electrifying. The control you felt, the way she surrendered so willingly, was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but give in to the moment fully.

Your hips began to move, your thrusts deliberate but rough, each one pushing deeper as you set the rhythm. Lia’s hands tightened their grip on your thighs, her fingers curling slightly as her body swayed to match your motions. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and her breathing grew heavier between moments when you gave her just enough time to adjust. She looked up at you, her wide, watery eyes filled with surprise and a growing hunger. This wasn’t what she’d expected, but the way her body responded told you everything—this was what she wanted, what she craved.

Her moans grew louder, though muffled, as her lips and tongue worked in perfect sync with your movements. Her usual confidence had melted away, leaving behind a raw vulnerability that only fueled you further. This side of you—assertive, unrelenting—was something she hadn’t expected, and the way she gave herself over to it was driving you wild.

You tightened your grip on her hair, guiding her more firmly as her hands clutched at your thighs for balance. Her breathing was heavy, her moans blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds that filled the room. Tears began to streak her cheeks as her throat constricted around you, her body tensing slightly as she fought to keep up. Still, her eyes never left yours, wide and watery but filled with trust and unmistakable arousal.

Her muffled cries grew needier as your rhythm intensified, her nails digging into your thighs as her body trembled. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core, every sound she made pushing you closer to the edge. When her moan vibrated against you again, it sent you spiraling, your hips moving faster, rougher, with a desperation you couldn’t suppress.

You felt yourself reaching the breaking point, your control slipping entirely. Lia’s breathing hitched, her hands shifting to grip you tighter as you thrust one last time. Your release hit like a flood, overwhelming and unstoppable. A guttural groan tore from your throat as you came, the heat surging through you in waves. Lia’s body instinctively tensed beneath you. Her throat worked desperately, swallowing each hot pulse as it filled her mouth. Her gag reflex kicked in more than once, her soft, choked sounds blending with the wet, rhythmic movements that echoed in the room. Despite her efforts, some of it spilled from the corners of her lips, trickling down her chin in thin, glistening streams. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, her nails pressing into your skin as she did her best to keep up, her flushed cheeks stained with tears and exertion.

Her breathing was uneven, her body trembling with the effort to take everything you gave her. When you finally pulled back, a string of fluid connected you briefly before breaking, her tongue darting out to clean her lips as she gasped for air. Lia’s eyes lifted to meet yours, glassy and dazed, her expression a mix of exhaustion, surprise, and something playful.

She wiped at her chin with the back of her hand, her lips curving into a faint, teasing smile. “Fuck that was hot,” she murmured hoarsely, her voice laced with mischief despite her breathlessness. “What's gotten into you?”

You didn’t respond, the fire in your chest still burning too hot for words. Instead, you leaned down slightly and tapped your member against her cheek a couple of times, the wet sound punctuating the charged silence. Lia blinked up at you, her flushed face lighting up with surprise, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

Without a word, you reached down, your hands finding hers as you pulled her to her feet in one smooth motion. She let out a soft, surprised laugh, stumbling slightly against your chest. Her body was still trembling, her knees unsteady from the intensity of what had just happened. She clung to you for balance, her breath brushing against your neck as she steadied herself. 

Before she could add anything else, your hands moved to her sweatshirt, gripping the fabric at the hem. Her laughter faded into a small, knowing smile as she raised her arms without hesitation, letting you strip it off her in one smooth motion. The air between you felt charged, electric, as the garment fell to the floor.

Her shorts followed quickly, her own fingers fumbling with the waistband as though eager to match your urgency. The two of you moved in tandem, discarding every barrier until she stood before you, bare and breathtaking in the dim light. The soft glow illuminated every curve, every flushed detail of her skin, making her look impossibly beautiful.

You climbed onto the bed, hovering over Lia as she lay beneath you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body still trembling from the intensity of earlier. Without a word, you captured her lips in a bruising kiss, pouring all the frustration, anger, and sadness you’d been bottling up into the connection. Her soft moan was muffled against your mouth as she melted into you, her hands reaching up to grip your shoulders.

You didn’t stop there. Your lips trailed away from hers, moving down the curve of her jaw to her neck, where you nipped at her skin with sharp, deliberate bites. Lia gasped and squirmed beneath you, her body reacting instinctively to each sting of your teeth, her fingers clutching at you for balance. The sound of her soft whimpers drove you on, each one fueling the storm raging inside you.

Your hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as you moved lower, leaving a trail of heated kisses down to her collarbone. You didn’t hesitate to bite there too, hard enough to make her arch her back, her body pressing closer to you as though craving the sting. Her breaths grew quicker, her chest heaving as she writhed beneath your relentless attention.

Her squirming only pushed you further, your need to control, to channel the storm within you, manifesting in the way you held her down. One hand moved to her neck, wrapping around her throat in a firm, deliberate grip. Lia’s reaction was immediate—her body froze for a second, her breath catching, before her eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. There was no fear in her gaze, only surprise and raw, unfiltered desire.

You didn’t pause, letting your other hand slide down her body, brushing over her stomach before reaching her folds. The heat and slickness there were undeniable, and it made you tighten your grip on her neck as your fingers teased her entrance. Lia gasped, her body jerking at the touch, her hands clutching at the sheets for balance as her hips instinctively pressed toward you.

You didn’t slow down, slipping two fingers inside her in one swift, deliberate motion. Her reaction was instant—a choked moan escaping her lips as her body arched against your hand, her thighs trembling uncontrollably. You tightened your grip on her neck, holding her firmly in place as you set a rough, relentless rhythm, each thrust of your fingers matching the intensity of your emotions.

Her breaths came in short, desperate gasps, her body completely at your mercy. You didn’t let up, your fingers curling inside her, hitting all the right spots as her moans grew louder. The way she reacted—the way her body writhed and her voice broke with every movement—pushed you further into the haze of emotion driving your every move.

Lia’s hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she clawed at the fabric, her head tilting back as her lips parted in a silent plea. Her hips began to shift, trying instinctively to pull away from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t give her the chance. Each time her body tried to escape, you followed her movement with ruthless precision, maintaining the relentless pace that left her gasping and trembling beneath you.

“Please,” she choked out, her voice cracking as her hips jerked sharply against your hand, torn between chasing the pleasure and trying to find relief from the intensity. Her thighs quivered as the wet, obscene sounds from her folds filled the room, mixing with her soft, desperate whimpers.

Your fingers thrust with relentless precision, plunging deeply while curling just enough to make Lia cry out with every motion. Her gasps turned into desperate, broken cries, the sound spilling from her lips in sharp, uneven bursts. The way her body tightened and arched against your hand drove you further, your thumb brushing over her clit—first in slow, deliberate circles, then pressing firmly and flicking sharply as her hips jolted against you.

The hand around her neck tightened slightly, your fingers pressing just enough to make her breath catch. The mix of pressure and roughness sent her spiraling, her voice breaking into a low, guttural moan as her eyes fluttered open briefly, wide and glassy, before rolling shut again. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, her entire body trembling as your thumb quickened its pace, alternating between firm, relentless circles and sharp, deliberate flicks that made her hips buck wildly.

Her thighs tried to clamp shut around your hand, her body instinctively attempting to shield itself from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t stop. Your pace only grew faster, harder, as though chasing something deeper. Her moans turned into broken cries, her hips jerking helplessly against your hand as you pushed her closer and closer to the edge.

The slick heat from her folds coated your fingers as her walls tightened around you, her body reacting to every motion. Her breath hitched, her cries becoming louder, more desperate. Her hips jerked erratically, trying to escape your relentless pace, but you didn’t let up. The grip on her neck tightened again, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her eyes snapped open for a moment, unfocused and dazed.

“God—” she managed to choke out, her voice breaking as her body convulsed. “I—can’t—”

Her body tensed beneath your touch, her breathing erratic as she teetered on the edge of release. Just as the moment was about to break, you pulled your fingers out abruptly and delivered a sharp smack to her folds. The sudden sting and shock sent a jolt through her entire body, her back arching violently off the bed as a strangled moan tore from her throat.

That was it. Lia shattered beneath you, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs clamped around your hand, trapping you there as her cries turned raw and broken, each sound carrying the intensity of her release. Her body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her. Her hands clutched at the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as her hips jerked uncontrollably, seeking and shying away from the overwhelming sensations.

You held her firmly, your grip on her neck steady, grounding her as your hand returned to her folds. Your fingers worked with deliberate precision, prolonging her climax as her cries grew louder, more desperate. Her hips bucked wildly against your hand, her body writhing beneath you as she gave in completely to the pleasure overtaking her.

Her release seemed endless, the intensity of it leaving her gasping for breath as her body quaked under your control. The room was filled with the sound of her broken moans and the rhythmic slap of your palm against her oversensitive lips. Each touch seemed to reignite the flames, drawing out her pleasure until her body collapsed back against the bed, trembling and spent.

As the aftershocks coursed through her, her breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her skin glistened in the dim light, her face flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

You loosened your grip on her neck, your fingers brushing lightly against her skin as you leaned over her. Lia’s eyes fluttered open slowly, glassy and unfocused, her lips parting in a faint, breathless smile. Her body continued to tremble slightly, the lingering sensations leaving her utterly undone beneath you.

You guided Lia’s trembling, sensitive body onto the bed with deliberate intent, her flushed skin glistening as she struggled to catch her breath. Her wide, dazed eyes met yours, still hazy from the intensity of her previous climax, but you weren’t done—not yet. Slowly, you lay down and pulled her back against you, arranging her pliant body with steady hands.

Her back pressed firmly to your chest, her legs spread wide and bent at the knees, her thighs trembling as you slipped your hands beneath them. Your grip steadied her, your fingers curling securely around the back of her thighs, holding her legs in place and spreading her open. The position left her entirely vulnerable, every inch of her body on display. Her arms rested near her sides, loosely pinned between your bodies, emphasizing her complete surrender to you.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her neck fully exposed, giving you an unobstructed view of her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the faint sheen of sweat that glistened on her skin. Lia let out a soft, breathless gasp as the new position registered, her body tensing briefly before relaxing into your hold.

The vulnerability of it, the way your grip anchored her while she was spread open, only seemed to heighten her arousal. “Where did you learn this?…” she murmured, her voice trailing off into a whimper as she felt you press against her entrance. The sensation made her hips shift instinctively, her body eager and trembling as she surrendered completely to the moment.

Without hesitation, you entered her in one deep, deliberate motion. The pace was fast and unrelenting from the start, your thrusts deep and purposeful as you held her firmly in place. Lia cried out, her voice breaking into a desperate moan as her body responded immediately. The position allowed you to reach depths you hadn’t before, and her body clenched tightly around you, the new sensation overwhelming her.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself over to you completely. The sheer submissiveness of her posture, her willingness to let you take control, drove you on. You leaned down, your lips brushing the curve of her neck as you pressed open-mouthed kisses along her flushed skin, your teeth grazing lightly before biting down just enough to make her gasp.

Lia let out a trembling gasp as your hand found her clit again, circling it with a firm intensity that made her entire body jolt against you. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, her hips writhing in an attempt to escape the relentless stimulation. “Wait—” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she tried to shift away from your touch. “I’m sensitive—too much…”

Her words barely registered, muffled by the storm in your mind. The frustration and anger churned like a relentless tide, the image of her smiling, her hand entwined with someone else’s, replaying in your head like a haunting refrain. It consumed you, fueling the roughness in every movement.

You tightened your hold, your hands locking her helplessly in place. Her legs trembled, trying to close against the overstimulation, but the position left her completely vulnerable. With her legs spread wide and pinned by her own weight, she had no leverage, no way to resist as you drove her higher. Her body squirmed, her hips shifting desperately, but your arm around her wrists and your thighs holding hers apart ensured she couldn’t escape.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to the back of her neck where you could reach, the soft curve of her skin damp with sweat. The kiss was possessive, claiming, and when you bit down, she let out a sharp cry, her body arching against yours. The sting of your teeth sent a fresh wave of shivers through her, her voice breaking into a soft whimper as you soothed the bite with another heated kiss.

Lia’s body trembled, her reactions raw and desperate. Each time you bit down, harder now, her cries grew louder, her head tilting back to expose more of her neck as though surrendering completely. Her thighs tried to press together again, but the position made it impossible, leaving her entirely at your mercy.

Her pleas melted into choked moans when your hand left her clit briefly, only to return with a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, followed by her broken cry as her body jolted against you. The sting sent her closer to the edge, her breath hitching in ragged gasps as her hips jerked involuntarily.

The relentless combination—the deep, fast thrusts, the circling of your fingers on her clit, and the sharp bites you pressed to her shoulder and neck—pushed her further into a haze of overwhelming sensation. Her cries grew louder, her body trembling violently as she fought against the intensity. Even as her hips shifted and tried to twist away, her body betrayed her with every shiver of arousal, her movements weak and yielding to your pace.

Just as her body tensed in anticipation of release, you pressed harder against her clit, your fingers moving in swift, relentless circles. Lia gasped, her walls clenching tightly around you as her entire body strained, her climax teetering on the brink.

When you sensed she was at her limit, you delivered a sharp, deliberate slap to her clit. Lia screamed, her voice raw and broken as her body convulsed violently. The sharp sting mingled with the overwhelming pleasure, the combination tearing through her with a force that left her trembling uncontrollably. Her thighs twitched against your hands, her chest heaving as she sobbed softly, her cries a mix of pleasure and surrender.

You didn’t stop, your fingers continuing to flick and slap her nub while your thrusts maintained their relentless pace. Her body collapsed further against yours, her legs trembling as the overstimulation sent her spiraling beyond her limits. Another broken scream tore from her throat before her body finally gave out, her muscles going slack as she slumped back onto you, her head falling onto your shoulder.

Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her body trembling as aftershocks coursed through her. You released her wrists, your hands smoothing over her legs as you pressed soft kisses to her temple and along the marks your teeth had left on her shoulder. Her breathing gradually steadied, her skin still flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

Your pace didn’t falter, even as Lia slumped further against you, her body trembling and utterly spent. The overstimulation of her climax had left her broken in the best way, her cries now soft whimpers, her breath hot and uneven against your neck. Her legs remained pinned, trembling as your relentless thrusts sent aftershocks rippling through her. Each deep motion made her body react instinctively, her hips twitching as though trying to pull away, but the position left her helpless, completely at your mercy.

As the intensity built, her breaths grew sharper, her head tilting back against your shoulder. The haze of her earlier release lingered in her glassy eyes, her thoughts slow and unfocused. Yet, as your thrusts grew faster and more erratic, realization flickered faintly in her expression. She gasped softly, her thighs twitching against your hold.

“Wait…” she murmured, her voice trembling and breathless, her mind catching up to what her body already knew. “Don’t… don’t cum inside me,” she pleaded, her tone cracking under the weight of her exhaustion and arousal.

Her words were faint, almost drowned out by the rhythmic sound of your hips meeting hers. Her protest lacked strength, her body betraying her as her warmth clenched tightly around you, pulling you deeper with every motion. Even as she tried to speak again, her words dissolved into soft, broken whimpers, her thighs trembling violently as her overstimulated body refused to resist what was coming.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, the edge drawing closer with every thrust. Her whispered plea echoed faintly in your mind, but the overwhelming heat, the way she writhed beneath you, the way her body pulled you in, made it impossible to stop. The last thread of your restraint snapped as her walls tightened around you one final time.

“Fuck…” you murmured hoarsely, your voice trembling with the urgency of your release. Her body stiffened briefly, her lips parting in a faint gasp of realization, but she couldn’t move, her legs pinned wide and her body limp in your hold.

With a guttural groan, you pressed as deep as you could, your release surging into her in powerful, shuddering waves. Lia’s breath hitched sharply, her fingers weakly clutching at your arms as she felt the warmth spreading inside her. “Oh my God…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her head fell forward, her body twitching in response to the unfamiliar sensation. The flush on her cheeks deepened, a mix of disbelief and something unspoken as she lay trembling against you.

When the last tremors subsided, you loosened your grip slightly, your hands smoothing over her legs as they remained draped across your hips. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. The room was quiet except for the faint sound of your mingled breathing, heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

Lia’s voice came out as a whisper, trembling with exhaustion but edged with frustration. “Too much… it was too much…” Her body twitched beneath you, her trembling legs sprawled limply against your hips. Her chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, her gaze hazy but laced with something sharper as she tried to steady herself.

Then her eyes locked onto yours, and the flush on her cheeks deepened, no longer just from exertion. “I can’t believe you came inside me,” she muttered, her voice low but biting. “You know we can’t do that.”

Her words cut through the heavy air, and for a moment, her expression hardened as she tried to assert control over the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you. But the tension in her brows faltered as her body gave a faint, involuntary shudder, the lingering sensation of everything pooling inside her impossible to ignore.

She shifted slightly in your hold, her thighs twitching, her skin hypersensitive and her mind torn between anger and something much more confusing. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, to reprimand you further, but no words came. Instead, she turned her head to the side, her expression tight, though not entirely resolute.

Inside, you could tell she was battling herself. The heat spreading across her neck and cheeks, the way her legs trembled against yours, betrayed a truth she didn’t want to face. Even though she was angry—she had every reason to be—the intensity of what had happened, the rawness of being completely at your mercy, lingered in ways she couldn’t deny.

Lia let out a sharp exhale, her body relaxing slightly against you as her anger seemed to ebb, replaced by a reluctant acceptance. Her head fell back onto the pillow, her breathing still uneven, her lips pressing together in a faint line. The silence between you was heavy, her internal conflict palpable, as the reality of the moment settled over both of you.

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the air between you was filled with something unspoken, a tenderness that lingered even as exhaustion pulled at you both.

“Jisu,” you said suddenly, the word breaking the silence like a crack of thunder.

She turned onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you. “Hmm?”

“Can this ever be more?” The question came out unsteady, raw with emotion, as though it had torn its way out of you.

Her smile faded, replaced by something gentler but distant. She sighed softly, the blanket slipping slightly as she shifted to sit up. “We’ve talked about this,” she said, her tone careful but firm. “The reason this works is because it’s casual. It’s… uncomplicated. That’s why it’s good.”

You turned your head to look at her, searching her expression for something—anything—that might suggest she felt the same way you did. But all you saw was a calm resolve. “You’re great,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “You really are. But if we start complicating things, it’ll ruin what we have, could you imagine even trying to do this while one of us has feelings.”

Her words struck you like a punch, each one cutting deeper than the last. You forced a small, hollow smile, nodding as if you understood. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “You’re right…”

Lia’s hand brushed over your arm lightly, reassuringly, before she lay back down beside you, curling into your side as though nothing had happened. But something had. For you, the illusion that this could be enough had shattered, and no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of the end.

As Lia slept peacefully beside you, you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. You couldn’t keep doing this—not when your feelings for her only grew stronger with each passing day, and not when she had made it clear she would never see you the way you saw her.

You slipped out of her bed quietly, careful not to wake her. The city lights outside her window cast long shadows across the room as you let out a soft apology,dressed and left. You told yourself that it would be the last time, that you couldn’t go back—not for her, not for anyone. You needed to find someone who would value you, who would want you the way you wanted them.

-----

The next morning, Lia woke up alone, sunlight filtering softly through her curtains as the warmth of the day began to creep into the room. She stirred slowly, her body aching in unfamiliar ways—her neck, her thighs, her core—all reminders of the intensity of the night before. She shifted slightly, wincing at the tenderness, and as the memories flooded back, her cheeks flushed with heat. The rawness of how you had been with her, the way you had consumed her so completely, lingered in her mind, each thought sending a fresh wave of warmth coursing through her.

Reaching for her phone, she hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the screen. After a deep breath, she typed a quick message: “Last night was amazing. Thank you.”

She hit send, expecting the usual quick reply. You were always good at responding, rarely making her wait more than a few minutes. It was one of the constants she had come to rely on—your availability, your attentiveness. But as the minutes stretched into hours, her screen remaining frustratingly blank, she shrugged it off. You’re probably just busy, she told herself, though a faint unease began to creep into her thoughts, like a whisper she couldn’t ignore.

Life moved forward, as it always did, her schedule swallowing her days whole. But the unease grew, a quiet nagging in the back of her mind that wouldn’t go away. Still no reply. No follow-up. No late-night texts asking about her day or teasing her about something silly. It was unlike you, and with every passing day, it became harder to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Desperate for distraction, she agreed to another date with the idol, convincing herself it was the right thing to do. But from the moment they sat down at the trendy café, everything about the evening felt wrong. The vibrant chatter of the other patrons blurred into background noise, his words barely registering as she stared down at her phone, her thumb hovering over the unanswered message. It sat there, unopened, like a stark reminder of your absence.

He tried to make conversation, asking about her work and cracking lighthearted jokes, but her responses were flat, distracted. Her mind kept drifting—back to you. She could almost hear your laugh, picture the way you would have teased her about spending too much time scrolling on her phone. She thought about the little things you did, the gestures that had woven themselves into her daily life: bringing her food after late practices, the way you always seemed to know when she needed comforting, and the talks that stretched into the early hours of the morning when her world felt too heavy.

Her chest tightened as she realized it wasn’t just about the sex anymore—though that had been incredible. It was everything else, the way you had quietly become her anchor without her noticing. She missed you, in ways that went beyond physical, in ways she couldn’t ignore.

As the date dragged on, her unease grew heavier. She looked at him across the table, saw the effort he was putting into keeping her attention, and felt the guilt creep in. He wasn’t the problem. He was polite, charming even, but he wasn’t you. He didn’t make her feel grounded the way you did. He didn’t know her tells, didn’t know how to navigate her quiet moods or the way her smiles didn’t always reach her eyes.

She excused herself earlier than planned, her heart heavy as she walked out into the cool night air. Her fingers hovered over her phone again, the thought of calling you overwhelming her. But as she stared at your name in her contacts, she couldn’t bring herself to press it. Not yet.

Days turned into a week, and Lia’s desperation grew. Every thought of you tightened the ache in her chest, the longing building until it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just about the intimacy anymore—it was everything else. The little moments, the times you made her feel understood, cared for, seen. The absence of those moments was suffocating.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside her was shifting. Something she hadn’t wanted to see before but now couldn’t deny. You weren’t just her escape, her comfort—you had become something so much more. Finally, she turned to someone she trusted: Yeji.

The three of you had always been close, bonded not just by your ages but by a shared sense of humor and camaraderie. After practice one evening, Lia found Yeji in the lounge, scrolling through her phone. Her heart pounded as she sat down across from her, working up the courage to speak.

“Yeji,” Lia began, her voice quieter than usual as she fidgeted with the edge of her hoodie.

Yeji glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Lia hesitated, her usual confidence replaced by uncertainty. “You know about… my arrangement, right?”

Yeji set her phone down, her gaze sharpening slightly. “Oh, yeah,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “I know about it.”

Lia’s fingers twisted the fabric of her hoodie, her nerves fraying. “Have you… talked to him lately? Do you know where he is?”

Yeji’s expression softened, the teasing fading as she leaned back against the couch. “Yeah, we’ve talked,” she admitted, her voice even. “But I don’t think I should tell you more than that.”

The words hit Lia harder than she expected. Her stomach twisted, and her voice dropped. “Why not?” she asked, almost pleading. “I just… I miss him. I didn’t think I would, but I do. I didn’t realize how much he meant to me until he wasn’t there anymore.”

Yeji sighed, studying her closely. “Lia, you have to ask yourself why he’s not here right now,” she said, her voice steady but not unkind. “You had to know how he felt—maybe you didn’t want to admit it, but it was obvious.”

Lia looked down, her throat tightening as Yeji’s words sank in. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she murmured. “I just… I didn’t know.”

Yeji leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now. “I think he needed space, Lia. He couldn’t keep pretending to be okay with what you two had. And now? I think you’re realizing how much he really means to you.”

Lia’s fingers curled tightly around her hoodie, her heart sinking further. “I miss him,” she said quietly. “Not just… what we had. I miss everything. I don’t know what to do.”

Yeji shook her head gently. “I’m not going to tell you where he is—it wouldn’t be fair. But if you feel this way, you need to figure it out before it’s too late.”

Lia nodded slowly, Yeji’s words settling heavily in her chest. For the next few days, she replayed every moment in her mind—every late-night talk, every thoughtful gesture, every quiet look that made her feel safe. The realization of how much she missed you, how deeply she cared, grew sharper with each passing day.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. Lia grabbed her phone with trembling hands and called. The first call went to voicemail, then the next, and the one after that. Still, she didn’t stop. Each unanswered ring only heightened her desperation. She began texting, her messages growing shorter and more frantic with each passing hour.

“I need to talk to you.”“Please, can you call me back?”“Just… say something.”

When the texts went unanswered, she left voicemails, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “I… I really want to talk. Please, can we meet? Just let me know.” Every message sounded more raw than the last, the silence on the other end of the line gnawing at her chest like an open wound.

She lost count of how many times she called—her phone logs a mess of missed attempts, her inbox filled with drafts of unsent messages she couldn’t bring herself to delete. Each night, she lay awake, staring at her phone, willing it to light up with your name. The waiting was unbearable, each moment stretching endlessly as hope began to waver.

Just when she was on the verge of giving up, her phone buzzed. Her heart skipped a beat, and she scrambled to pick it up. It was you. A simple message: “Okay. Let’s meet.”

Relief and apprehension washed over her in equal measure. She stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure how to respond. After a long pause, she simply typed, “Thank you.”

-----

When you finally met, the air was heavy with tension, every unspoken word between you settling like a weight in the small café. Lia sat across from you, her usual poise stripped away. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the edge of her sleeve, her eyes fixed on the untouched coffee in front of her. The faintest hint of color rose in her cheeks, betraying the vulnerability she was trying to hide.

You watched her carefully, your own nerves coiling tighter with every second of silence. Her lips parted slightly, as though she wanted to speak, but the words didn’t come right away. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling but steady enough to hold your gaze. “For everything. For not seeing how you felt, for taking you for granted.”

Her words caught you off guard, the raw honesty cutting through the tension. You blinked, unsure how to respond at first. “I should be the one apologizing,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter than you intended. “For ghosting you, for catching feelings in the first place. I—”

“Don’t,” Lia interrupted gently, her voice firm but laced with regret. Her eyes finally met yours, and the warmth there made your chest ache. “Don’t apologize for liking me. Please. I need to say something first.”

You froze, her words silencing the flood of guilt that had been building inside you. She fidgeted with her sleeve, her gaze flickering downward for a moment before she looked back at you, her expression unguarded.

“I like you,” she said softly, the words landing with a weight that made your breath catch. “So much. I think I have for a while, but I didn’t know… or maybe I just didn’t let myself realize it. I got so comfortable with you always being there, and when you were gone, it felt like a piece of me was missing.”

Her cheeks flushed deeper, and her hands stilled as she continued, her voice trembling but resolute. “I thought keeping things casual was easier—safer—because I didn’t want to risk losing you. But I was selfish. I didn’t think about what you needed or how much it might be hurting you.

Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t stop. “I’m so sorry for everything. For not being considerate of your feelings, for pushing you away when you tried to tell me how you felt. You deserved more than that—more than I gave you—and it kills me that I hurt you because I was too scared to be honest.”

Her words tumbled out in a rush, raw and vulnerable. She took another breath, her eyes glistening as she looked at you, waiting. “Do you still…” she began, her voice quieter now, hesitant. “Do you still like me? Because if you do… I promise I’ll be better. I’ll try harder. I won’t take you for granted again.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and trembling with sincerity. You stared at her, the tight ache in your chest threatening to spill over. The vulnerability in her eyes, the way her fingers nervously twisted at her sleeve, the unsteady rise and fall of her breath—it was Lia, stripped of all pretense, offering herself to you in a way she never had before.

“I miss you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “More than I can even say. And yes, Lia, I still like you. I don’t think I ever stopped.”

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes widening as relief and hope washed over her face. A small, trembling smile broke through her uncertainty, and she reached across the table, her hand brushing yours. You didn’t hesitate, your fingers curling around hers as the tension between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by a quiet, tentative warmth.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you heavy but no longer with tension—this time, it was full of possibility. Lia’s fingers tightened slightly around yours, her gaze searching your face as though she was committing this moment to memory. Then, softly, she asked, “Can I… kiss you?”

Her voice was quiet, almost shy, a stark contrast to the confident Lia you had always known. You felt your breath hitch, the question catching you off guard even though you knew the answer. You nodded, unable to form words, and her lips twitched into a faint, nervous smile.

When she leaned forward, the world around you seemed to still. The noise of the café, the clinking of dishes, the hum of conversations—it all faded as her face came closer, her hand still firmly in yours. The first brush of her lips against yours was tentative, testing, but the moment they met, something shifted.

This kiss wasn’t like the others. You’d kissed Lia before—passionate, heated, messy kisses in the haze of your arrangement. But this? This was entirely different. This kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t fueled by lust or need. It was soft, deliberate, full of emotion you hadn’t allowed yourself to name before. It felt like kissing her for the first time, like discovering something new, something sacred.

Her lips were warm and inviting, moving against yours with a tenderness that sent shivers through you. There was no urgency, no pretense, just the quiet connection between you as the kiss deepened, your free hand instinctively reaching up to cradle her cheek. She leaned into your touch, her fingers threading lightly through your hair as she let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing into the moment.

For Lia, the kiss was no less transformative. She’d kissed you countless times before, but this—this felt like peeling away every wall she’d built, every mask she’d worn. This was the kiss she hadn’t let herself imagine, the kiss she hadn’t realized she needed until now. It wasn’t just the physical connection—it was the way your hand trembled slightly as you cupped her cheek, the way you held her like she was the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as your eyes met. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, her gaze full of something you couldn’t quite describe but felt deep in your chest. You could see it reflected back at you: this wasn’t just a kiss. This was everything.

“That…” Lia murmured softly, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words, her fingers brushing against your jaw. “That felt… different.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice low and raw with emotion. “It did.”

Neither of you moved to pull away, the space between you too fragile, too precious to break. For the first time, it felt like you were both on the same page, and the weight of everything that had come before fell away, leaving only the warmth of this moment.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy, more open—like the air between you had shifted, lighter somehow. You cleared your throat, your fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table as you searched for the right words, your heartbeat quickening with each passing second. “So, um…” you began, awkwardness thick in your voice as your eyes darted away from hers. “If you’re free later… I mean, after this—if you want, we could, I don’t know, grab dinner or something?”

Lia tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile that widened just enough to let you know she understood exactly what you were trying to say. Her cheeks flushed faintly, the color rising against her soft complexion. “Are you asking me out?” she teased lightly, her tone warm, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as you tried to play it cool. “Maybe. I mean… yeah, I guess I am.”

Her smile softened into something more genuine, more tender. “I’d like that,” she said quietly, her voice carrying just the right hint of sincerity to make your chest feel lighter. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

The relief that washed over you was palpable, and without a second thought, you stood, holding out your hand. Lia’s gaze flicked down to your outstretched fingers, hesitation flickering for only a moment before she reached out and took your hand, her fingers curling around yours in a gesture that felt at once familiar and entirely new. Her touch sent a warmth through you, steadying your nerves as the tension between you eased further.

As you walked out of the café together, her hand warm in yours, the world around you seemed to blur into insignificance. The usual noise of the city streets—honking cars, chatter from passersby—faded into the background as the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. Lia’s steps matched yours, her shoulder occasionally brushing against your arm, and every now and then, you glanced at her. Her soft smile, illuminated by the golden glow of the streetlights, carried a quiet promise that made your heart ache in the best way.

You gave her hand a gentle squeeze, testing the waters, and she looked up at you, her eyes bright with a mixture of shyness and excitement. The small action spoke louder than words, her slight squeeze in return confirming what you both already knew: this wasn’t just two friends reconnecting. This was something new, something fragile yet full of possibility.

By the time you reached the restaurant, the hesitation you’d felt earlier had all but melted away. The hum of the city was a distant backdrop as you opened the door for her, gesturing for her to enter first. She smiled, murmuring a quiet “thank you” as she stepped inside, her gaze lingering on yours for just a beat longer than necessary.

Inside, the warm, inviting glow of the restaurant felt like an extension of the moment you were sharing. As you sat down, the conversation flowed more easily, the earlier tension giving way to lighthearted laughter and comfortable silences that spoke of a connection neither of you could deny. And as you watched her, her smile radiant and her eyes sparkling across the table, you knew without a doubt: this wasn’t just a return to what you had before. This was the beginning of something real.

[flemingology]

O is for the only one I see ─ alexia putellas x reader

part 2 of my l-o-v-e miniseries. full masterlist here!

in which: you and Alexia have your first communication mishap after a family meeting gone wrong

warnings: argument, miscommunication, insecure reader

wc: 7.9k

an: i hope you understand the concept lol. i think the name 'miniseries' makes it sound like it's all gonna be 1 continuous story but it's more a one-shot vibe based on a lyric each time, as i describe in the summary. nonetheless, hope you enjoy!

In the past few months, Alexia had seamlessly become a part of your every day in ways you never thought possible. From her quiet insistence on walking you to your car after late dinners to the way she texted you pictures of her travels when she was away for games, it felt... natural. Easy, even. But meeting her family? That was a whole new level, one you weren’t sure you were ready for.

The way Alexia spoke about her family never failed to fill you with warmth. The way she, her mother and her sister bonded together over the course of their lives was something you could only admire. They were pillars in her life, the people she would fall back on when everything else in her life seemed to be going south. And now, you were about to meet them. It wasn’t just nerves bubbling under the surface, it was the nagging doubt if you were going to fit in. If they would approve of you, think of you worthy enough to date their daughter.

Alexia didn’t date. Hadn’t, in a good few years. She held herself to high standards and her family knew that, so they only wanted what was best for her. Whether that’s what you were, they’d have to see. What if they don’t like you?

“You know they’re going to love you,” Alexia said, leaning against the bathroom door frame with her arms crossed over her chest, as you smoothed down your shirt for what felt like the sixth time in as many minutes. You shot her a glare. “You say that now. Wait until Alba starts grilling me like a detective.” She laughed, walking over to you and fixing your collar. She cradled your face, hands on your cheeks and pressed a reassuring, lingering kiss against your lips. “If Alba says anything, I’ll handle her. I just want you to be yourself.” You shot her a grateful smile, turning your gaze back at the mirror, taking your appearance in another time.

“Do you think this is too much? Or… not enough? I can change if you want, I have another couple options laying on the bed.” Alexia wrapped her arms around your waist from behind, and some of your nerves settled at the warmth that radiated from her embrace. She pressed gentle kisses against the side of your neck, you leaning your head back against her shoulder to allow her more space. “You look perfect. My family is not expecting royalty, you know. They’re just excited to meet you.” You turned in her grasp then, tucking a couple strands of hair behind her ear. “Excited to meet me? Or excited to see if I’m good enough for you?”

Your girlfriend–– it still felt surreal to call her that, chuckled at that, leaning her head against your shoulder. “Mi vida, stop. They won’t judge you. Mami will probably try and feed you whatever she’s been cooking since this morning the second you walk through the door, and my sister will ask you a hundred questions about how we met.” You stayed silent at that, taking a moment of appreciation for the kindness and understanding that came from your lover.

“You’re overthinking. They’re going to love you. How could they not?” Alexia tilted your head back up, her eyes meeting yours. “Because I’m not… you. I don’t have the perfect career or the perfect family. What if they think I’m not good enough?”

Alexia bit her lip at that, before taking your hand and leading you back to the bedroom. She sat down on the bed, signaling you to come sit on her lap. You did, your knees on either side as you faced her again. “First of all, I’m not perfect. And second, that’s not how my family works. They don’t care about status or titles. All they care about is kindness, respect, and whether you make me happy.” The Spaniard rested her forehead against yours as she spoke.

“And do I?” “Every single day.”

As you left the bedroom together, Alexia threw another look towards you over her shoulder. “Oh, and for the record, if anyone asks you about football. The answer is always Barca.” You giggled, rolling your eyes at her words. “Noted. You’re going to owe me for this.” “Dinner with the Putellas clan is a small price to pay. Trust me.”

The apartment door clicked shut behind you, and you’re met with the cold afternoon air on a wintery Saturday in Barcelona. You pulled your jacket a little tighter around your figure, already cursing yourself for having dressed too lightly for the occasion. The streetlights cast a soft glow on the quiet neighbourhood, the orange-yellow hues bouncing off the cobblestone pavement beneath your feet. You despised Winter. Despised the cold, despised the dark mornings and dark evenings.

Alexia’s car brought you back to your senses. It’s familiar, and the way Alexia’s perfume lingers and mixes with the faint sense of leather calmed you down. The soft hum of the engine the only sound between the two of you. You couldn’t bear the silence any longer though, as if it was weighing you down with each passing minute.

“Okay, let’s set some expectations. What’s the worst thing your family could say or ask tonight?” Alexia glanced over at you, an amused smile on your face as she expertly manoeuvred the steering wheel one-handed. “Worst thing? Hmm… Mami might ask if you know how to make paella. She likes to test people on their cooking knowledge.” You scoffed nervously at her words. “Great. Let me just Google how not to butcher a classic Spanish dish before we get there.” Alexia cocked an eyebrow at you. “Relax. You could burn your toast and they’d still like you.” You didn’t respond at that, and that led to your girlfriend briefly squeezing your knee, and then resting her hand on your thigh. “I’m serious. You don’t have to impress anyone. Just… be yourself.” You looked out the window, looking at the passing cars. “I wish I had your confidence.” “You don’t need that. You have mine.”

The roads were quiet for the time of day, but there’s a faint hum of life outside. The city felt alive but not overwhelming. Alexia’s playlist waltzed through the background, the songs that remind you of your lover calming your senses once again. You noticed the way she taps her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music, her relaxed demeanor helping you stay calm. You didn’t want to mess this up. It had been a while since Alexia had seen her family, properly, for more than a couple short moments after a game. Somehow, you hadn’t met them yet. The games you went to, they couldn’t come and vice versa. It was Alexia’s mum that insisted she brought you to the family dinner, something that on its own should’ve calmed your nerves, but the rational part of your brain was completely at the mercy of the overwhelming feeling of self-doubt.

The journey didn’t take as long as expected, traffic not nearly as bad as either of you had foreseen. Alexia’s hand was tracing soft, reassuring patterns on your thigh and your hand was on top of hers, steadling grounding yourself with her touch. Before you knew it, Alexia pulled into the driveway of her childhood home. “Oh God, I didn’t realize we were here already.” Alexia chuckled, but stayed silent for a moment. She let you come to your senses, knowing you were going to be fine, but just needed a moment to ground yourself. Your eyes searched the area, and you were overwhelmed by the sheer amount of cars that were all around the house. “Baby, how many people are here tonight?” Alexia winced at that, having forgotten to mention that it was never only close family when the Putellas’s came together. She tried to remain casual, though. “Eh, maybe like 20 people? Just a small group. It’ll be okay, amor.” You mumbled something incoherently under your breath and Alexia wished it wasn’t you cursing her out, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it as you opened your door and stepped outside.

“So, any final words?” You questioned, your hand resting on the doorbell, not quite ready to ring yet. “Smile. Be yourself. Don’t let mami overwhelm you with food.” You cocked your eyebrows at her. “Mhm, that’s a lot of pressure. What if I fail at one of those things?” Alexia pressed a kiss against your temple, mumbling her next words against your hair. “Then you’d still look cute failing.” You rolled your eyes. “Such a charmer, Alexia. I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” “Completely. But seriously, you’ve got this.” Your girlfriend took your hand in hers for a second and gave a reassuring squeeze, before she eventually rang the doorbell.

Eli’s face lit up inexplicably wide at the sight of her daughter. “Mi niña, look at you, you’re finally here.” She pulled Alexia into a tight hug first, and by Alexia’s body language, you could tell that she needed this. She practically smothered her daughter with affection, but Alexia quickly became second best the moment her eyes landed on you, her expression softening into one of pure warmth. “And you must be the one she hasn’t stopped talking about!” Before you could even fully process her words, she’s wrapping you in a firm, welcoming embrace. The scent of her lavender perfume and something faintly sweet invaded your senses, and it immediately struck you as a homely feeling. Her hug lingered just long enough to feel sincere, and when she pulled back, her hands settled gently on your shoulders.

“Come in, come in! Don’t just stand out here in the cold. I’ve been so excited to meet you." Alexia watched the interaction with a fond smile, her gaze flickering between you and her mum as you stepped into the warmth of the house. It felt almost surreal. The cozy hum of voices from the living room, the inviting smell of food wafting from the kitchen. You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this; this immediate sense of belonging. You couldn’t help but glance at Alexia, a smile creeping onto your face despite your earlier nerves. She noticed, her own smile widening in response.

But as Eli ushered you both further inside, you caught a fleeting glance exchanged between Alexia and her mum. It’s quick, almost unnoticeable, but something about it tugged at the edge of your thoughts. Maybe it was the slight furrow in Eli’s brow that smoothed out too quickly, or the way Alexia’s smile dimmed just a fraction before she responded. It passed before you could think too much of it, overshadowed by Eli’s bright chatter as she guided you toward the living room. But the seed of doubt was planted, small but persistent.

The living room buzzed with warmth and chatter as Eli guided you inside. The people gathered are lively, her relatives talking over one another, kids darting around in a chaotic blur, and a general air of familiarity you can almost taste. “Come, let me introduce you,” Eli said with a bright smile, tugging you further into the room. Alexia stayed close, her hand lightly resting at your lower back, an anchor as you’re passed from one family member to the next.

First, it’s Alexia’s aunt. A lively woman with curly hair and a booming laugh, pulled you into a tight hug as though she’s known you for years. “Oh, so this is her,” she said knowingly, nudging Alexia with a grin. “You didn’t tell me how gorgeous she is.” “Tía” Alexia mumbled, her ears turning pink, but the playful reprimand only made her aunt laugh harder. “And polite, too, I bet,” the aunt added, turning to you. “Please, call me Tía Marta. Now tell me, is she as much of a neat freak at home as she was when she was a kid? She used to get mad if I folded a towel the ‘wrong way.’” Alexia groaned behind you, but you laughed, feeling a little more at ease.

Up next is Alexia’s grandmother. She was smaller than you expected, her frame delicate but her spirit vibrant. She took your hands in hers, her skin soft and warm, and looked up at you with kind, twinkling eyes. “Eres preciosa, niña,” she said softly, her voice comforting. You managed a thank you in your best Spanish, and she beamed with pride. “Her Spanish is good!” she told Alexia in Catalan, patting your hand. “Abuela,” Alexia interjected gently, translating for you with a smile. “She says you’re beautiful.” “Well, she’s beautiful too,” you responded shyly, feeling your cheeks warm under the older woman’s approving gaze.

Then suddenly, a young cousin, the boy probably no older than six, bolted toward Alexia the second he walked in, arms wide and squealing her name. Alexia catched him mid-run, spinning him around effortlessly. It struck a chord somewhere inside of you, but you weren’t ready to develop the thought yet that was simmering at the back of your mind. “Who’s this?” the little boy asked once he’s settled in Alexia’s arms, pointing at you.

“This is my... friend,” Alexia said carefully, glancing at you with a flicker of hesitation. The little boy looked at you curiously before deciding, “She’s pretty. Do you like Spiderman?” Caught off guard, you stammered, “Uh, yes? I think he’s cool.” “Good,” the cousin declared, nodding seriously. “Because I don’t like boring people.” You shared a laugh with Alexia, who shook her head fondly.

At one point a couple minutes later, an uncle, already stationed near the appetizers, offered you a small plate. “Try this,” he said, holding up a slice of jamón ibérico. “This is the best you’ll ever taste.” You accepted it, and the flavor immediately melted on your tongue. “Wow,” you exhale, impressed. He grinned, nodding approvingly. “I told you. Good taste,” he said, pointing at you before winking at Alexia. “This one’s a keeper, eh?” Alexia chuckled, shaking her head. “She hasn’t even had the croquetas yet.” “Croquetas?” you asked, curious. “Just wait,” Alexia replied, her smirk confident.

Eli stole you away then, leading you with her to the sofa. “She talks about you, you know,” she said quietly, handing you a glass of wine. You blinked in surprise. “She does?” “Every time we talk,” she said with a smile, her eyes soft as they glanced toward Alexia. “You make her happy.” Your heart swelled, and you glanced at your girlfriend across the room, who was talking to her cousin again. She must’ve felt your eyes on her because she looked back, offering a small smile that’s just for you.

But then, there was a change in the air. It was not outright hostility, not even close. But as the introductions continued– they seemed endless, there was a distinct feeling in the back of your mind that you couldn’t ignore. A couple of the older relatives asked pointed questions about your work. Questions that felt almost like challenges, though they were wrapped in polite tones. “So, what do you do exactly? Must be quite demanding, no?” You answered as best as you can, without wanting to seem too affected by the unpleasant tone you’re being spoken to. 

As you were chatting with another of Alexia’s cousins, one of her aunts– not the one that welcomed you so warmly earlier, interrupted the conversation with a comment that caught you off guard. “Well, I hope you’re not one of those people who thinks dating a footballer is all glamour and fame. It’s hard work, you know.” The words are said with a faint smile, her tone almost teasing. Almost. But there’s something about the way her eyes lingered on you, as though she’s waiting to see how you’ll react. “Oh no, I wouldn’t think that at all.” You stammered, trying to laugh it off. Before you could say more, Alexia stepped in smoothly. It’s like she felt the discomfort oozing off you through the room, and she was by your side in a mere couple seconds to defuse the situation. “She’s not one of those people. Trust me.” Her aunt gave a small nod, her smile tight as she moved on to another conversation.

The exchange left you rattled, though you’re not entirely sure why. It wasn’t outright rude, but it felt like a test, one you’re not certain you passed. As the evening went on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were under a microscope. Most of the family was kind and welcoming, but a few interactions left a sour taste, small enough to make you doubt whether you’re overthinking it or not.

Your mind drifted back to the glance Alexia exchanged with her mom earlier. Was it about you? Were they worried about bringing you into this tightly-knit family dynamic? You glanced at Alexia, who was across the room now, laughing with her sister. She looked completely at ease, as though she belonged in this moment in a way you could never hope to. The doubt crept in again, insidious and unwelcome. Did you really fit into her world?

The room was alive with conversation and laughter, but your thoughts felt far too loud. You were perched at the edge of the couch, smiling politely as Eli chatted animatedly with a group of relatives nearby. Alexia caught your eye from across the room, her easy smile fading when she saw the tension in your shoulders. Excusing herself from the conversation she’s in, she made her way over to you, her movements casual so as not to draw attention. She sat next to you, her hand comfortingly placed on the small of your back. “Hey, you okay?” You take a moment, hesitating on what to tell her, because the last thing you’d want is to be a burden. “Yeah, just a bit… overwhelmed”, you eventually settled on. Her hand softly brushed against your knee and it brought you a sense of comfort. “They already love you, you know.” Her words settled over you like a warm blanket, and for a moment, you let yourself believe them. You nod, offering her a small smile. Thanks. I think I just need a minute to adjust.” Your girlfriend squeezed your knee and then stood up, moving back across the room to where she was before she came over to you. 

You started to relax again, letting the hum of conversations wash over you, but then you heard it; a hushed voice from somewhere nearby, just loud enough to catch your ear. “She seems nice, but do you think she’s really with Alexia for the right reasons? I mean, it must be intimidating, dating someone like her. Maybe she just likes the idea of it.” The words hit like a gut punch. You glanced around, trying to place the speaker, and your stomach sank when you saw it’s the same cousin who’d been teasing earlier. She was speaking to another relative, who nodded slightly but didn’t add anything to the comment.

“Well, she does seem a bit… out of her depth. But Alexia must see something in her.” “Yeah, but for how long? I mean, Alexia needs someone who can handle all of this. The attention, the traveling, the pressure. Do you think she’s that kind of person?”

Your pulse quickened and your fingers tightened around your glass. It felt like the air had been knocked out of you. Why were they even talking about this? Your stomach sank further with each word. You fought the urge to stand up and defend yourself, although you weren’t quite sure you’d know what to say if you did. Were you really out of your depth?

You glanced back toward Alexia, wishing she’d somehow heard the exchange, wishing you could share the burden of what had just been said. But even if she had been closer, would you have had the courage to repeat the words? The thought of telling her felt unbearable. What if she agreed, even a little? What if, instead of reassuring you, she hesitated? You tell yourself off, firmly. It was Alexia that brought you here, Alexia that wanted you here. She wouldn’t hesitate. But before you can dwell on what you heard too much, dinner is being served and you’re all called to the living room.

The dining room was warm and inviting, with a large wooden table set for everyone. The atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and overlapping conversations. Alexia was seated beside you, and her presence helped calm your nerves, even though the earlier comments still lingered in your mind. You tried to focus on the moment, enjoy the evening with Alexia’s family and forget about what you overheard earlier

.“So, tell us more about yourself. Alexia mentioned you work on some pretty impressive projects.” It was Eli’s voice that pulled you out of your thoughts. You were glad that everyone seemed to be in their own conversations, only a couple relatives really listening in to what you were going to answer.

“Oh, it’s nothing too special. I mostly enjoy being behind the scenes, making sure everything runs smoothly.” You worry, overthinking every word as if the people around you would be nitpicking every single thing that you said.

“Well, Alexia couldn’t stop talking about how talented you are. She doesn’t say that about just anyone, you know.” Her words made you feel a little more at ease, but the shadow of doubt from earlier lingered.

Dinner went smoothly for the rest. Conversation flowed easily between a couple of you, the steadying presence of your girlfriend aside you doing just enough to ground you. During a lighter moment, someone shared a funny story about Alexia’s childhood.

“Did you know Alexia used to practice free kicks in the yard until she knocked over the flower pots? I think my parents banned football from the garden for a year!” The family laughs, and Alexia playfully rolls her eyes, leaning in closer to you. “Don’t believe everything they tell you.”

At some point, a little further down the evening, Alexia leans in quietly, her hand brushing against yours under the table. “You okay? You’ve been a bit quiet.” she asks softly. You force a smile, one you know she won’t believe, but it’s the best you could muster up. “I’m fine. Just taking everything in.” She didn’t push, but her eyes lingered, and you knew she was onto you. But you appreciated her for not pushing.

As the meal ends and people begin to move around, Alexia finds a quiet moment with you, sensing your unease. “You’ve been amazing tonight, you know? I can see how much they like you.” You found yourself in a quiet corner in the kitchen, and you allowed yourself to circle your arms around her neck, Alexia’s resting around your waist. “You think so? It’s just… a lot to take in.” Alexia nodded, briefly brushing her lips against your forehead. “I know it’s overwhelming, but you’re doing great. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t know you could handle it.”

-

The silence in the car was heavy, but Alexia didn't push. She glanced at you every now and then, her brows knitting together in quiet concern at the expression on your face. She decided she could do no wrong by testing the waters. “You were amazing tonight,” she said softly. You nodded with a small smile, but it was forced. You continued staring out the window, replaying the events from the night over and over again, especially the words from one of Alexia’s aunts kept on ringing in the back of your mind.

The car ride felt uneasy. It wasn’t usual for you both to be so quiet, and it almost felt awkward. You knew you weren’t doing the right thing by not telling your girlfriend what was wrong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You felt as if, if you would recite the words that were spoken by one of her relatives, that she’d agree. That she’d realize that they were right, that you’re out of your depth and not made for someone with a schedule like hers. So you stayed silent. As much as it hurt you to ignore Alexia’s silent advances throughout the drive, whether that be a hand on your knee or a soft touch on your thigh, you didn’t dare speak up. Not if that meant you would put your relationship at risk.

When Alexia pulled into the driveway of your apartment block, you could feel the hesitation in her movements. You unbuckled your seatbelt and she did the same, but before you could reach the door handle, you felt her hand on your wrist. “Amor, wait…,” she spoke softly. You closed your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before leaning back against the car seat. “You did great tonight. I promise. It was everything I hoped for. I’m so glad you finally met my family and they love you. Te lo prometo.” You gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, but you couldn’t help but melt in the kiss that followed. You really shouldn’t have, should’ve held your walls up, because you knew you were in for a rough night as soon as your girlfriend left. But when she kissed you with that much fervour, pouring so many unspoken words in it, you couldn’t help but be at her mercy. “Call me tomorrow?” You nodded, but you weren’t sure you would. Stepping out of her car felt like floodgates opening. The emotions hit you like a brick: insecurity, shame, and the growing belief that this relationship was a mistake.

-

You ignored Alexia’s calls the following day. You knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. After all, she didn’t do anything wrong. But you couldn’t bring yourself to, not when you felt like every new word you spoke to her would bring her closer to realizing that you weren’t enough for her. Her texts start off light, reassuring. But when she realizes that you’re not going to reply, they come with an urge.

From: Ale I hope you’re feeling better today, amor. Let me know when you’re free?

From: Ale Hey, I’m getting worried. Are you okay?

From: Ale Please talk to me. Did something happen?

You read them but couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Each message felt like a dagger, reminding you of what you’re running from.

As the day dragged on, the insecurities became louder. What if you’re just another thing for her to take care of? You’re nothing compared to the people she’s surrounded with on a day-to-day basis. Her teammates, her family, they’re all… extraordinary. Alexia deserves someone who fits into her world effortlessly.  Not someone who feels like they’re constantly falling short.

You started analyzing every moment with Alexia, wondering if you’ve been blind to signs that this was doomed from the start. You were not made for this world. Not made for her. So you did the thing that you thought was best for you, best for her, you decided not to reply to anything she sent you. She’d get over it, she had so many other things on her mind that she probably wouldn’t even think twice. You’d get over it too, eventually. At some point. Probably. Maybe.

But God, were you wrong. On the other side of Barcelona, your girlfriend was miserable. She had sensed something was off since the evening before, but she didn’t want to pry, knowing that usually didn’t help her case in trying to get anything out of you. But now, as the afternoon bled into evening and she still hadn’t heard from you, prying was the only thing she wished she did. As far as she knew, things had gone quite well with her family. There wasn’t anything that she could remember that would warrant such a response from you, so she felt like her hands were tied in what to do.

She wanted nothing more than things to work out with you. She hadn’t felt like she felt about you in ages. You got her, you understood her, and she was so incredibly grateful for you. You were like a breath of fresh air in her clouded, busy life. So when she didn’t hear from you for a day, Alexia curled up into herself. She was worried, insecure, in her head and making up all kinds of scenarios that were way too obscure, but she couldn’t help thinking them anyway. What if you didn’t want her anymore after meeting her family? Was it not what you expected? Did someone tell you something about her that struck a wrong chord?

Despite the overwhelming thoughts that clouded her mind, Alexia manages to get out of her sofa that evening and try a different approach to get you back.

-

It’s well past 9pm when you receive a voicemail from Alexia, and you can’t help but listen to it. The prospect of hearing her voice was too good to turn down.

“Hola, mi vida. I don’t know what’s bothering you, but please talk to me. We’re a team, you know? You and I. Just the two of us. Let me in and we’ll work out what’s on your mind. And, check your front door for me. Te amo. So much.”

You hadn’t realized tears had welled up in your eyes at the sound of her voice, until one was rolling over your cheek. You quickly wiped it away, not ready to be vulnerable about this yet. Not when she was being so sweet. You mustered up the courage to get out of bed, walking the way up to the front door of your apartment. You checked the peephole, but nobody was there. You opened the door and spotted a bright bouquet of red and white roses on the ground, accompanied with a little envelope. Your first thought was about how Alexia had gotten into your building, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about that right now. You picked up the flowers and smelled them, a faint hint of her perfume mixing with the fresh scent of the roses. It hit you hard then, another few tears escaping your eyes.

The letter that came with, was even sweeter. It wasn’t much, not a love letter by any means, but just a small couple reminders of how much she loved you. That she was proud of you. That she couldn’t wait to see you again and hear your voice. It only felt more guilt rise up in you. How could you treat this woman, who clearly loved you to the moon and back, so poorly? But the guilt wasn’t enough to overshadow the insecurities. At least, not yet. 

-

The office was dimly lit, the desk cluttered with blueprints, pencils, and a cold coffee cup that you’re not sure you even took a sip from. When things got rough, work is where you turned to in life. Work didn’t make you insecure. Work didn’t make you doubt yourself. It was always there. Steady. A pillar of strength that would never disappoint you. You weren’t the only one who knew that, though. As long as it took you to open up about your professional life to a certain blonde, she now knew everything about the ins and outs of your life as an interior architect. She too, knew that this was where you retreated when things weren’t going your way. To experience some sort of stability. To make you feel like even though everything else around you was crumbling, you still had this. The hum of the building and the outside traffic was the only sound until the door swung open abruptly, startling you.

Alexia walked in, her expression a mix of worry and frustration. She looked out of place here, her casual sweater and jeans standing stark against the sterile, professional backdrop. She didn’t speak right away, just stood there, her gaze fixed on you. The silence felt suffocating. You haven’t turned around yet, but the mere presence of the person gave away who it was.

“I knew you’d be here,” she started with. “You shouldn’t have come.” You had turned around on your seat now, but were still avoiding her gaze. As much as you wanted to look at her, take her in, because you missed her, missed her more than you could put into words, you didn’t. Because then it would take approximately 3 seconds for you to give up the facade that you’d been putting on, and you weren’t ready for that. Not when you weren’t good enough for her. She stepped closer. “What else was I supposed to do, huh? You’ve been ignoring me for almost 2 days. I’ve been losing my mind wondering what I did wrong.”

There was a sense of hostility in her voice, and you didn’t like it. But, you guess you deserved it. You finally met her gaze then, and if it weren’t for the bags underneath her eyes and the concerned look on her face, you really would’ve thought she was angry at you. You stood up from your desk, taking a couple tentative steps toward her and crossing your arms over your chest. “You didn’t do anything, Alexia. This is on me.” You knew it was weak, and not good enough. But you couldn’t give her much more than that. “That’s not good enough. I deserve more than silence, don’t you think?”

Your throat is tightening, but you try your best not to let it sound in your voice. “I needed time to think.” “Time to think about what, y/n? If you even want to be with me?” You frowned then, looking up at her. You didn’t know it had cut so deep with her. It’d only been a day and a half, and you hadn't given her any clues on what this could be about, so for her to have made this assumption took you aback. It’s not what you wanted, or… maybe it was? It was best for the both of you, either way.

You decided at that moment it was best for you to open up, to relieve some of the tension for the woman standing in front of you. “I’m not good for you, Alexia. Can’t you see that? Your cousin, your family, they see it. And they’re right.” The Spaniard’s face hardens at that, her brows knitting together. ““I don’t belong in your world. I don’t know how to fit into it, and honestly, I don’t think I ever will. You deserve someone who can stand next to you without feeling like they’re constantly falling short.”

Alexia closes the distance between you, and you can feel her breath against your face as she speaks. “That’s bullshit, and you know it! You think I care what anyone else thinks? My family? My cousin? Do you think I’d be here right now, chasing after you, if I thought you weren’t good enough for me?” You interrupt her, but it’s a futile attempt. “No, you don’t understand-” “You don’t understand! I chose you! I want you! Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

It’s like someone opened up a can of bottled feelings within Alexia. You’d voiced it many times to her that you thought you weren’t good enough for her, and each time she’d patiently coaxed you back to her, melting your insecurities away with whispered promises and lingering kisses. What you didn’t know is that it had also taken an effect on her. She just wanted you to believe her, to be happy with her, to stop thinking that you weren’t what she wanted or deserved.

“Because I’m scared, Alexia! I’m scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize they were right. That I’m just this… nobody who got lucky. That I’ll never be enough for you.” Alexia’s expression softens slightly, but her frustration remains. She runs a hand through her hair and takes a deep breath, her voice quieter but still firm. ““You’re enough for me. You’re more than enough. But I can’t keep fighting to convince you of that if you’re not willing to believe it yourself.”

The words hit you like a dagger. Of all the ways the conversation could go, you hadn’t expected that. And it only further confirmed your thoughts. Alexia was realizing that this wasn’t what she wanted. “Maybe I’m doing this for you, Alexia. Maybe you’ll thank me someday.” Alexia’s voice was sharp as she replied. “Don’t you dare make this decision for me.” You flinch, but remain silent.

She steps back then, running her hands across her face. “I don’t know what else to say to you right now.” Her eyes linger on your figure a little longer, but then she’s gone. The sound of the door falling shut feels deafening, and you finally let the tears flow that you’d been holding in throughout the conversation. Argument? You didn’t know and you weren’t sure if you wanted to.

As she storms out of the studio, the cool night air hits her like a wall. Her chest feels tight, and her hands tremble slightly as she fumbles to unlock her car. She hesitates for a moment, gripping the door handle, debating whether to turn back. But the ache in her heart makes it hard to think clearly, and she sinks into the driver’s seat, resting her forehead against the steering wheel.

She didn’t know how it could’ve escalated this quick. For her, the meeting with her family went well. Of course, there was the odd comment, but she didn’t think it was major enough to cause an upset like this. It seemed like, in one day, you’d built a wall so high that she couldn’t reach you anymore.

She bites her lip, trying to keep the tears from falling, but a few slip out anyway. She feels a mix of anger, heartbreak and guilt, but above all that she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to be feeling. She drives around aimlessly, not ready to drive home. Before long, Alexia realizes that she didn’t handle the argument in the right way. Instead of calming you down, she yelled, too lost in trying to make you see what she sees. By the time she finally gets home, she’s emotionally drained. She sits at her kitchen table, the undeniable sting from the unanswered calls and texts still there. Alexia had never felt this way about anyone, ever before in her life. And she wasn’t going to let you walk away because of some stupid comment or your own doubts. You were hers, and she was going to remind you of that even if it took everything she had.

Alexia starts her plan to get you back the next day. She comes to terms that barging into the studio again wouldn’t make it better, so she starts with something simple. She drives to your place and slides a little handwritten note under the door, a small one that says, “I love you. No matter what they say, no matter what you think. You are everything to me. Please, let me prove it. A.” She also sends flowers to your workplace, a bouquet of your favourite flowers with a little note attached to it, “You’re the only one I see.” She’s patient, very patient, but when she hasn’t heard anything from you by the evening, she starts pacing around her apartment.

She had done quite well at keeping busy throughout the day. After quickly dropping off the note, she went to training and was able to keep her mind off the situation for a couple hours. But when she came home, deep in the afternoon, and she couldn’t even get her post-training nap in because she was thinking about you, she knew she wasn’t gonna get anywhere.

Her fingers hover over your contact, but the prospect of rejection makes her hesitate. She lingers, but eventually decides it’s best not to. She was gonna let you come to her. And you did. The next morning, somehow you’d remembered that today was a day off for Alexia. She was sat at the kitchen table, sipping on her daily cup of coffee while scrolling through her phone. The doorbell startled her, not really expecting anyone at this time of day, especially not when she was still wearing her pajamas. But when she looks through the peephole, noticing your figure on the other side of the door, her heart skips a beat. She scrambles to unlock the door and open it for you, but when her eyes land on you it feels like all is right in the world. She has to refrain herself from throwing her into your arms, knowing that wouldn’t be the right thing to do right now. She gives you a small smile, one you return, and the warmth that spreads through her chest at the little gesture is unimaginable. She steps aside then, letting you inside of her apartment.

It doesn’t take long for Alexia to crack. She makes you a coffee and joins you on the sofa, and you had planned to start the conversation, but she didn’t let you. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice cracking slightly. “For yelling, for walking out, for everything. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look down, nodding, fiddling with your hands. “I… I wasn’t trying to push you away, Alexia. I just-” “You’re scared,” she interrupts, and a relief washes over you at the realization that she understands your feelings. “And I get that. But, please, I need you to talk to me, not shut me out.”

There’s a couple moments of silence, and you readjust your position on the couch, your knees now flush to your chest with your arms wrapped around them. It was the only way to stop yourself from curling into her. You wouldn’t get to say what you wanted if you did. “It’s not just fear,” you admit. “It’s everything. What your cousin said, it wasn’t just about me. It was about us. Like I don’t belong in your world. Like- Like I’m just… some fling that you’ll outgrow.”

Alexia’s face hardens, jaw tightening and she reaches a hand out, but quickly retreats. “Don’t let them get to you, por favor. She doesn’t know anything about us, about you.” “But what if she’s right?” You whisper, your voice trembling. “What if I’m not enough? For you, for your family, for-” Alexia does follow through with her hand then, placing it on your knee, giving it a slight squeeze. “Stop.” Her voice is firm but not harsh, cutting through your spiraling thoughts. “You are enough. You are everything.” Your eyes meet hers, and you’re looking for anything that gives away she’s not speaking the truth. That she doesn’t mean this, that she’s just saying this out of pity. But you can’t find it. The only thing you find is a couple unshed tears, showing just how much emotion she’s pouring into this moment. “Do you know how much I love you? How much I admire you? Your kindness, strength, the way you light up any room without even trying. You’re the only one I want.” You go to speak up, but she lifts her hand in protest.

“What someone else thinks, whether it’s my family, my friends or anyone, doesn’t matter to me. You matter. You make me happy, and that’s all I care about. And if my cousin, or anyone else has a problem with that, they’ll have to say that to my face. And not behind your or my back.” Alexia straightens slightly, retreating her hand from your knee and placing them in her lap. “But I know I didn’t handle this right, and I’m sorry for that too,” she says earnestly. “I shouldn’t have lashed out. I was frustrated because I hate seeing you doubt yourself, especially when you’re so good to me, so good for me. I want to be better for you, better for us. But you need to let me in.”

You swallow hard, her words from the last couple minutes sinking in. You couldn’t believe how you deserved the woman sitting in front of you right now. So good, so honest, and all she wanted was you. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to hurt you, or… seem weak, I guess.” Alexia shakes her head, her gaze soft. “You’re not weak. And you’re never going to hurt me by telling me how you feel. We’re a team, remember? On the same side, mi amor.” The pet name sends a wave of warmth through you that you only now realize you missed terribly. “Besides,” she adds, her tone lighter now, “if our relationship has had to endure all the teasing from my teammates and the comments from fans, I’m sure we can handle a little communication hiccup.”

You laugh softly, and Alexia grins, relief washing over her. “There it is,” she says, her thumb brushing a tear off your cheek that you didn’t even know was there. “There’s my girl.” You let out a shaky breath, the weight on your chest lifting ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, too. For shutting you out. I’ll try to do better.” Alexia leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We’ll figure it out together.”

As the tension melts away, Alexia pulls you up, wrapping her arms tightly around you. The warmth of her embrace makes the world outside. She tilts her head to rest against yours, her voice soft as she speaks. “You’re never allowed to disappear like that again,” Alexia murmurs, her lips brushing against your temple. “Do you know how much I missed you? Two days felt like two years.” You nestle further into her, your arms circling her waist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just needed space to think. But it wasn’t worth it. Being without you felt awful. I just kept convincing myself that you were better off without me and vice versa, but I know that’s not true.”

Alexia pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. Her thumb brushes gently over your cheek as she smiles, her expression soft. “You don’t have to run away to think, cariño. Just come to me, and we’ll figure it out together. Always.”

The weight of the past days begins to fade away as Alexia leans down and brushes her lips lightly against your forehead. Then your nose. Then your cheek. Each kiss feels like a promise, her way to say that everything’s going to be okay. “Stop,” you say, giggling softly, though you don’t actually want her to stop. “You’re making it impossible to stay mad at myself.” “Good,” Alexia says with a smirk, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your back. “Because I’m not done making it up to you yet.”

She shifts, sitting back down on the couch and pulling you into her lap. You hesitate for a moment, but her arms tighten around your waist, grounding you. “This okay?” she asks softly, her lips brushing your ear. You nod, melting into her touch. “More than okay.” Her hands trail up and down your back in soothing strokes as you rest your head on her shoulder. The two of you sit like that for a while, in silence, before you take a nap together on the couch. As you lay in her arms, you know that that’s where you’re supposed to be. And you’re gonna battle every single one of your insecurities that tells you differently.

[saleeba]

fool ; jude bellingham

summary ♡ betting on the phenomenon of unrequited feelings, you and jude have never dared to make the first move with the other until a reunion forces new questions to be answered.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, kissing, both jude & reader are pining idiots, fingering, p in v sex, marking, missionary, unprotected sex (jude pulls out but still pls practise safe sex!!)

a/n ♡ she's baaaack :D but first☝🏽alexa play fool by nct 127 !!!! the lyric "you’re a goddess but i’m a fool, what should i do?" was written for this fic in particular i just know it was :] anyway hehe this fic is based off this request so tysmm to anon for sending such an exciting prompt !! i hope yous enjoy 🫶🏽💗 WAIT P.S this isn’t proofread bc i lowkey am not rocking with it so i didn’t wanna put myself thru having to read it again & again … im sorry for any mistakes :’)

you had just gotten off work to a stream of relentless texts from your best friends’ groupchat — phone pinging off the rails whilst you were on shift, muffled buzzes from your bag making you wonder what on earth was worth blowing up in that whatsapp group on a random friday afternoon.

on the train back home, you tap open the green app, anticipating yourself easily spending the entire journey catching up on the three hundred-plus texts from your closest mates. you decide to start right from the beginning of the influx, thumb scrolling nonstop and eyes blurring from the rapid movement until they focus back on the screen where you stop, finally having reached the destination of the first text that set it all off. 

it was from none other than jude bellingham, and you were nearly embarrassed by the way your face instantly lit up upon reading his message. the groupchat’s golden boy had popped up after weeks of minimal contact, asking if he could take everyone for a night out tomorrow to make up for it, stating that he finally has some small gaps of free time between hectic pre-season schedules to allow him to do so.

it honestly warmed your heart that the first thing he wants away from football is to see you all. you’d been a band of good friends since the first year of secondary school, contact not necessarily strained as you all had a lot of love for each other but rather unspokenly reduced after leaving school two years ago and falling into busy university or career ventures.

instead of scrolling through to read and react to the plethora of follow-up texts after his, you ignore them and jump straight to typing your reply to his invitation, casting aside that nagging voice asking you: doesn’t that seem too desperate?

no, right? i’m just accepting his invitation, getting straight to the point, the convo ended half an hour ago anyway. you’re arguing with yourself now, feeling the need to give unnecessary excuses to nonexistent accusations. if you were to be honest with yourself, you were always self-conscious of the way you behaved around jude, even now debating on whether to add your signature heart emoji or if it’d come across as you trying too hard given your feelings for him; albeit them being feelings that no one knows about, not even him. you made sure for it to be that way.

with a mental note to get over yourself, you send an affirmative ‘i’m up for it!’, signature heart included, and quickly shut off your phone. heart beating so rapidly, you scolded yourself for getting so worked up over a mere reply and for definitely not getting over yourself. god knows how you’re going to handle seeing him in person. 

a sudden double buzz from your device does nothing to calm you down, instead dampening your hands with sweat when you grab it and see a pair of messages from him.

jude 🌟: heyy i’m so glad you can make it tomorrow :)

jude 🌟: can’t wait to see you!! ❤❤

he had messaged you separately for some reason and he had included two hearts… the overthinking starts for you again, without even beginning to think about what to reply this time, and you question why he couldn’t have just replied to you in the groupchat or why he couldn’t have just left the end of the messages with a ‘x’ like he usually does or why he would even say what he said in the last message. mind frantic and unable to clear itself, you thank yourself for having your read receipts turned off so you can have your mini meltdown without worrying about jude knowing you’d seen his messages multiple minutes ago. god, you were down so bad. 

you force yourself to open the messages app and send the most casual reply you can type.

you: can’t wait to see you too! ❤

you try to keep it short, sweet and nonchalant even if your fingers are itching to type more – more about how much you had missed him, more about what he was planning to wear tomorrow night so that maybe you could match your own outfit with him, more about your true, unfiltered feelings for him. it’s pathetic really; you hadn’t seen him in two years and the first thing you wanted to do was throw yourself at him, spilling all the secrets you’d been holding close for so many years. you leave it at that, put your phone on do not disturb mode and head on home, waiting for the long hours of friday evening to pass and saturday night to arrive.

***

and so saturday night rolls around and you just about finish touching up your makeup and smoothing out your dark blue dress before the doorbell rings, and you’re whisked away to the club by a couple of your girlfriends. 

as soon as you step your high heels into the building, you’re met with the sight of flowing booze and the noise of noughties r&b beats bouncing around the brightly lit walls. dragged by the hands of your friends, you find yourself standing next to a booth at the back of the club, the rest of the group now welcoming you latecomers with a loud cheer.

“finally, girls. you took your time!” one of your male friends remarks, ushering you all to sit down.

“oh god, what have we missed?” you beam, trying to scan the group amongst the strobing lights to catch a glimpse of the person you were really there for. 

“nah, you’re just in time because… first round’s on mister madrid!”

the callout breaks your friend group into a raucous holler as your gaze fixes onto the six foot-one footballer who stands up with an amused grin and a sigh of feigned defeat. your heart quickens and your smile turns into a state of near disbelief over how good jude looks right now – graphic white t-shirt hugging his biceps in all the right places and hanging over a pair of smart-casual black trousers.

“yeah, yeah, anything for my groupies,” he winks at no one in particular but your brain almost convinces you that he was looking at you while doing it. you send a shy smile his way just in case but what he says next has your mouth running dry. “help us out, will ya, y/n?”

you hesitate for a second too long for your liking, stumbling over your words while your friends peer at you. “uh… uh-huh, yeah, of course.” you answer as quick as you can, standing up on your feet slowly as to not trip over your now-shaking legs and send yourself flying into jude, and to avoid embarrassing yourself more than you think you already have.

he responds with a grateful smile and you follow him to the bar where he places an order for a round of drinks and some shots to be delivered to the group by the two of you. there’s an odd unfamiliarity to the silence between you both and you realise that you aren’t normally this quiet around jude, and neither is he around you; you would always joke that he’d be eligible to talk for england if he wasn’t already playing football for them. he’d retort with a comment about how his ears could almost fall off with the amount of chatting you do, and you’d dryly reply with a ‘well, they’re too big for your head anyway. look at the size of them!’ the pair of you were always as thick as thieves in the eyes of everyone else. which is why you didn’t expect it to be like this, especially after two years of not seeing each other – there was so much you wanted to catch up on from his world and so much you wanted to share from yours. you decidedly gain some courage and take the initiative to spark some conversation, get something going at least.

“soo, how have you been, then?” you’re both facing the bar, your head barely tilting in jude’s direction to indicate that yes, it is him that you’re talking to and not some random like he assumes you are with the way you’re positioned away from him, eyes just about turning to steal a glance of his figure but not to hold eye contact. “how’s la vida española?”

jude finds amusement in your sudden flaunt of the spanish language, a smile breaking out on his face, unseen to you since he’s still facing the same direction that you are, preoccupying his eyes with the myriad of bottles on the shelves while his mind searches for an apt reply.

“yeah, it’s been great, i think i wanna stay there forever,” jude laughs, his fingers tapping on the black surface of the bar. you can’t help the selfish feeling of your heart dropping at his confession. “i miss you, though, y’know… a lot.” 

this one confession forces your whole body to turn itself towards him, eyes now chasing after his to seek some form of sincerity, to see if he was just messing about or if he really meant what he just said. he shifts his head to face you now, a bashful look painted onto his features. the expectant silence says it all really; of course i mean it. 

you gulp and decide to break the quietness with a sarcastic, jesting “ugh…”, jude’s face dropping at what he thinks is genuine disgust from you. you realise your attempt to denounce the awkwardness has backfired.

“oh my god, you dickhead, i’m joking,” how is it that mere moments ago you were shaking at the sheer real-life presence of him but now you’d transformed into having this confident playfulness? and all of it without a drop of alcohol in your system as well – you’re quietly proud of yourself. “i missed you too, jude… a lot.” you coyly repeat his words. 

upon your turn of the confession, the bartender sets down your drink orders and the two of you wordlessly carry the trays over to where your friends are situated, the silence way more comfortable now that you’re both basking in assurance, unbeknown to the other that your hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour.

***

not even two hours and an innumerable amount of shots later, you’re all a drunken mess; definitely not a surprise to a single one of you. what is a surprise is the way you’re strewn across jude, right leg wrapped around his left, head on his chest, swirling and sipping from what’s clearly an empty glass to any sober, sane person. you grumble and mutter a complaint about the lack of liquor in the booth, taking it upon yourself to head to the bar and order another round for everyone.

“i’ll come with you,” jude announces over the pounding of the music, standing up so quickly that his next five steps are staggered and he has to cling onto your arm to steady himself. “i’m fine, i’m okay.” he assures nobody that asked.

the two of you stumble your way into the path of the bar, determined to drink until the sun comes up and forget every strand of stress until the hangovers come knocking. jude’s soft grip on your arm has you being led in the opposite direction all of a sudden, though. 

“uhm, where are we going?” you question, head still turned to where the bar is located, about to ask him if he was so hammered he couldn’t walk in a simple straight line to get to where you’d planned to go. “jude?”

he’s silent, save for humming his way to his desired destination, and you question if he even knows where he’s leading you. before you make the choice of going along with him or leaving his clearly confused self to go cop your next cocktail, you find yourself in the disabled toilets, pushed up against the sink with the door not even shut properly, gasping at how rough jude is handling your body compared to his soft touches from before, and how close his face is to yours, warm breath fanning the skin of your lips. you weren’t strictly against it all but how the hell have you ended up like this? The alcohol and the questions come at you fast, dizzying your brain but you can’t help but feel so keenly anticipative.

“i’m sorry, i just…” he pulls away from you, eyes fluttering closed so he can re-evaluate his actions, exhaling through his nose as if he was letting go of all doubts before continuing. “am i okay to do this?” he places his hands on your waist, pushing himself back into your space, his full lips more or less about to take yours. you have to refrain from letting the effects of alcohol take over your tongue and uttering back with a breathy ‘you can do whatever you want to me’.

instead, you answer with an earnest, eager nod, inviting his lips to finally do that one thing you had been dreaming of for so long, to kiss yours so silly that they’re left with the imprint of him. and jude does just that.

his mouth takes in yours so determinedly, shyness and hesitation now long-dissolved feelings for you both as your hands find home around the back of his neck, pushing his head further onto you, feeling the need to taste him more and more until you’re both consumed by each other. 

it’s a messy makeout, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but it’s oh so hot, the way he gasps into your mouth from breathlessness and pleasure, running and gripping his large hands over the material adorning your waist and hips as the need to rip it off you nearly overtakes him. to you, he’s so utterly intoxicating that a gallon of alcohol would pale in comparison to how dizzy his skin on yours makes you feel. 

you release a moan at the meagre thought of jude all over your body, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over yours, filthy noises of wetness and carnality from the both of you reaching high pitch as jude somehow simultaneously pushes you against the sink and pulls you against his chest, his manhandling of you getting you even more hot and bothered before you’re both interrupted by the hub of people passing by and huddling right outside the bathroom, their self-occupied shouts and cheers dragging you out of the bubble that the two of you had wrapped yourselves in, almost sobering you up on the spot.

you push jude out of your way, gentle but abrupt, and give him a look of apologetic regret. “i-i’m sorry,” you say, jitterily walking past him and exiting the room without a second glance or word, heading straight to the booth where your friends are hollering and hurraying, occupied with shot-drinking contests. 

your girlfriends offer to go home with you when you lie and tell them you’re not feeling very well, but you decline them, instead telling them to have fun on your behalf and letting them know that you’ll try to text them once you get home safely. you can tell they’re confused by your shaken state and the absence of jude but you grab your bag and make your exit before the interrogation can even begin to brew.

you manage to grab a taxi back home, surprised by how competent you are despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and confusion in your brain. on the way there, you can’t stop the bouncing of your knee nor the racing of your psyche, asking yourself how and why whatever went down with jude went down like that. you curse at yourself for being so impulsive in starting and finishing the whole ordeal with him in the way that you did – you don’t know if it’s the empty, depressive drunk thoughts or just clarity from the whole jude thing that makes you feel like there’s no coming back from this at all. you feel like crawling into your bed and never coming out from it ever again. 

the taxi driver has to call for your attention multiple times until you reach earth again and pay him the journey’s fee. you go skulking all the way up to your front door, only letting out a breath that you feel like you’ve been holding since the beginning of the night once the door shuts behind you.

the rest of the night is quiet and orderly for you, telling yourself to not invite any more chaos into your brain and to simply drink some water and to go to sleep. waking up tomorrow morning is going to be painful in more ways than one.

***

you spend the rest of the weekend nursing a ferocious hangover and a frazzled heart, only contacting your friends to tell them that you got home fine and to joke that you probably need a century or two for this hangover to be gone. you thank the high heavens that they don't bring up the topic of you and jude 

you try not to think too much about jude, you really do, but sunday night has a couple of taps landing you on the instagram app and you learn that he’s already back in spain, pictures of him in training sliding across your phone screen on his story along with selfies with his teammates. usually, you tap that small red heart at the bottom and hope that he sees it amongst his millions and millions of notifications, a tiny ritual of yours that now has you feeling so pathetic that you don’t dare to do it anymore.

running a hand over your weary face, you set your phone down and opt to nap the night away, finding comfort in the non-intrusion from your friends and the no contact from jude, hoping to keep yourself busy and distracted with whatever the work week brings.

a ring from the doorbell rips through your flat just as you’re organising your pillows, forcing you to stop what you’re doing and ponder who could be at the door on a sunday while the clock ticks some minutes past one o’clock. you don’t recollect ordering any food nor are you expecting a delivery, especially not this late. 

trudging your way to the front door, you open it to find jude bellingham standing there and you feel an instant pang of regret, wishing you had peeked through the window to see who it could be, wishing you had pretended to not be in, wishing the ground would open up right now and swallow you whole  – anything to escape the confrontation that you’re now having to face. your face heats up with embarrassment and nerves but you manage to rupture the silence before your mouth can turn dry. 

“j-jude, hi,” you try and keep your greeting as polite and cordial as you can, even when all you really want to do is to chase him off your doorstep. “what are you doing here?”

your query has jude visibly gulping, hands fiddling with each other as he attempts to hold eye contact with you, his vision a bit blurry from exhaustion. “y/n… sorry, can i come in?”

you oblige, holding the door open wide before you guide him to the living room and invite him to sit down on the plushness of your sofa, settling yourself on the opposite end of it. you silently prompt him to say what he came here to say with a nod of your head. 

“uhm, i’m sorry for turning up unannounced, and so late…” ever the courteous. “i had to sneak away from the lads and catch the last flight to here so it was all a bit down to the wire.” he lets out a small, uneasy laugh.

you cut off his rambling with a curt “what do you want, jude?” you don’t mean for it to sound so rude but you still hold the attitude of wanting to get this over and done with, already feeling annoyance at yourself for even letting him into your home. 

“right, yeah, i actually wanted to talk about what happened on saturday,” he goes back to fiddling with this thumbs, eyebrows furrowed but he avoids looking at you this time. not that you can blame him because your own vision shifts to anywhere but his direction. “i’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable a-and please tell me if this is inappropriate, but i haven’t stopped thinking about last night, i haven't stopped thinking about you, i-i’m sorry, i know this is all so silly and you probably don’t even feel the same bu-”

you stop him right there, this time with good reason as you can’t bear holding back your real emotions, not when he’s practically given you the green light to spill the contents of your heart.

“no, jude, i didn’t feel uncomfortable at all,” you assure him, gaze now on the footballer in front of you and you almost can’t believe the words leaving your mouth right now. “i wanted it to happen, i’m glad it happened, you know, i think i’ve had dreams about it happening,” you try and offset any tension with a timid chuckle before turning quite pensive. “i really like you, jude, i have for a long time… god, sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you return to making light of the situation you’ve put yourself in, the timidness sinking back in as quick as the relief lifts you up. 

jude moves closer to your now-cowering body, knees touching as your heartbeat surges with worry and self-consciousness all wrapped up into a tight, miserable ball. he puts his sweat-dampened hands into yours and squeezes in silent assurance before raising them up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on the heated skin.

he can’t help but break out into a sweet smile, eyes threatening to crinkle at the edges. your face is still sketched with tension and now confusion has joined the mix.

“i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to hear that from you, how much i needed to hear it,” your eyes meet his, widening in surprise a little. “i’m a fool for not telling you sooner… i like you, y/n, i really like you.” he repeats your own words back at you, leaning in with a smattering of amusement dancing in his vision. 

“can i kiss you?” the question leaves your lips faster than you can even process it in your brain.

jude wastes no time in replying with a firm pressing of his mouth on yours, deepening it within seconds, the need to cement his feelings for you being told through the way he cradles your head in his hand, leaning you back onto the arm of the sofa to further intensify the kiss. your lips move along with his, the soft weight of his body pressed against yours making you whine into his mouth in ecstasy.

he lifts off of you with a puckering of his swollen lips, the both of you taking the chance to draw in some air and attempt to regulate your breathing pattern.

“please take me to the bedroom,” you beg, breathless from the sheer sight of his dark eyes and pretty pout. there’s no fight nor denial from jude as he picks you up and prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, quickening his pace once you point in the direction of your room.

he lays you down on the bed so gently, lips latching onto yours once again before they travel down your jaw and over the warm skin of your neck. the light touch of his fluttering eyelashes married with the pressure of his soft lips has your head spinning, hands tentatively laid on top of your sheets since you don’t trust yourself to not grab his head and bring it back to your lips. his fingers tinker with the waistband of your pyjama trousers, stretching it off your skin before he asks permission to peel them down your legs. 

once they’re cast away in some corner of your bedroom, jude divides your legs by the underside of your knees, tucking himself into the now available space between them, turning onto his side and resting on his left forearm. he leaves a small kiss over your covered cunt and you try your best to not just clamp his head in between your thighs and smother him with your growing wetness here and now. 

“need to get you ready, baby,” the sudden mention of the petname has you throbbing, squirming even more when he traces a line from your clit down to where there’s a small damp spot forming on the dark material of your underwear.

“jude, please,” you whine out, lifting your hips in a desperate bid to get the boy to strip your lower half completely. 

he shushes you in his own charming way, making sure to comply with your demand by getting up onto his knees and discarding your soaked panties in a matter of seconds, the cold air generated by his large hands whipping them off you hits your exposed pussy, making you hiss through gritted teeth.

jude returns to the gap between your spread legs, sitting back but still on his knees, his higher position causing you to shift onto resting your body weight on the palms of your hands in order to peer at his actions – which start with him re-tracing that same teasing line from your aching clit to your hole with his thumb, the feeling now so intense on your unclothed skin. he hums in what sounds to be satisfaction when you throw your head back in pleasure, taking it in his favour to slip his index finger into the tightness of your pussy. 

you release a guttural groan at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you; you of course don’t want this to be the only part but you’re still so very grateful, so fucking grateful he’s now rubbing at your clit in delicious rounds, thumb tracing circle after circle while his fingers form a pair, pistoning in and out of you so easily due to the way your cunt douses itself with every move of jude’s. 

“fuck, baby,” jude moans at the sight of his soaked digits every time they barely pull out of that pretty pussy, his thumb torturing your sensitive bud increasingly so, the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips an incentive for him. “feel so good and tight around my fingers, can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my dick.” 

his words have you absolutely reeling, writhing against his hand to try and chase that moment of release. 

“please, jude, i’m so close,” you’re warning and demanding at the same time, almost begging him to not stop or even think about moving his fingers out of you. “god, please, i need it,” 

jude suddenly retracts both of his hands, leaving you bare and empty. “no way, baby, need to have you cumming on my cock or not cumming at all,” he comments with a shake of his head, denying you the opportunity of leaking your cum over his hand. upon seeing your bewildered face, he makes up for it by putting on a show of licking your juices clean off his fingers, the digits popped inside his mouth and dragged right back out with a low moan, him praising the way you taste. 

“move up the bed for me, angel,” he orders, watching you while he stands up and unclothes himself as quick as he can. you scoot backwards, legs still spread open like they’ve been locked in that position, before pulling your oversized t-shirt off of you, chest void of a restricting bra . “good girl,” he praises, crawling up to hover his body over your laying one, cock in hand as your legs come to wrap around him. “are you still okay with this? we can stop at any point, okay?”

the sincerity of his voice has you melting. some would remark that the bar is in hell for you but the truth is that you hadn’t been with anyone like this for more months than you could count on your hands. you've been touch-starved and lacking words of affirmation for so long, and you needed something to be only about you for once. 

“i’m more than okay with this,” you smile up at him, nodding to make your approval fully known. “and yes, i know i can stop you if i need to.”

jude reciprocates the same smile before leaning in and smothering your lips with his, pushing his cock into your tight wetness, so tight that your pussy almost pushes him back out, not used to being penetrated by something so thick.

“oh my god!” the feeling of tightness/fullness has you both gasping out the same thing at the same time, erupting into quiet giggles when the two of you realise your matching reactions. 

jude’s mouth finds its way back home in the embrace of your lips and you swear this is heaven, the way his cock slides in and out of your sopping cunt, set at such a perfect pace, the slight friction causing you to grow even wetter – the filth of it all contrasts so well with the sweetness of his muffled moans and tender kisses on your neck, moving down onto your collarbones and tits.

a particularly harsh thrust of his cock has your back arching, chest pushed up to his heated face, and he takes this golden opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipple, spending a good while sucking and tugging on the skin around it. you’re amazed at how his cock doesn’t relent inside you, the speed still so quick and consistent even when he’s so occupied in painting splotches on your tits with his mouth.

“there,” he pants out, pulling his head back and marvelling at his own creation. “now, there’s no doubt that you’re really mine.” the smile he gives you is a killer.

you whine at his declaration of you belonging to him, scratching at his shoulders and calling out his name to indicate that it’s all too much for you, that you’re so, so close to cumming on his cock and really giving him what he wants rather than pleasing yourself. you figure that’s you gone now; you’re more willing to put the boy above your own needs because you’re down that fucking bad for him.

“fuck, jude, i’m gonna cum!” you sob, your moans becoming more frequent and higher pitched, legs starting to shake from the intoxicating mix of exhaustion and delight. you’re frantically chanting “please, please, please” into his mouth which parts to swallow your whimpering, wet lips kissing your trembling ones. 

“go on, baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he groans out, eyes squeezing shut when the feeling of your pussy clamping down tightly on his thickness proves too much to handle, face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. he knows you don’t need his permission, he would’ve let you orgasm as many times as you wanted to, would’ve let you use him like your own personal sex toy, but the words were only there to keep you going when his hips felt like faltering – he needed you cumming on his cock like he promised before, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up himself.

a final scream rips from your throat as you cum hard around jude, pussy clenching and pulsating around his cock so sporadically you thought you were having two orgasms at once. jude can’t handle it anymore, pulling out with a myriad of moans as he pumps his shaft with a hand, decorating the expanse of your lower abdomen with warm, white liquid. you’re still squirming, slowly trying to wheeze out the remaining whimpers from your lungs which you’re finding hard to do with the way jude pants and moans above you, the boy so spent he can’t help but breathe like he hasn’t had access to air for the past hour.  

he flops down by your side, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, chest rising and falling as he attempts to recuperate from the mindblowing sex you two just had. the image is so unserious that you can’t stifle your giggles but you decide to take another step of courage to lay on your side resting your head on his shoulder, fingers stroking his abs and playing with the curly hairs of his happy trail. 

the room is quiet now with the scent of sex wafting through your nostrils on occasion but it’s the most comfortable silence you’ve experienced with jude, the feeling of his hot skin on yours so soothing to you.

after a period of panting, jude clears his throat and your ears prick up at the presence of sound. he turns his head towards you and you lift yourself up and off him out of instinct – you want full attention on him.

“i don’t want this to be a one-time kinda thing, y’know,” he proclaims, biting his lip from saying too much in one go.

“what, is this your way of saying you want round two already?” you joke, nose crinkling at the way he rolls his eyes playfully.

“shut up,” he delivers a poke to your side. “i mean, well, i don’t want either one of us to see this as a spur-of-the-moment thing, i just…” you look at him expectantly, silently telling him to continue. “i want you to be my girlfriend, y/n.” 

you’re nearly knocked back by his words, wondering if they’re real or if you’re simply just hearing things. you thought dialogue like that, coming from him, was only reserved for your imagination, kept secret and only spoken to you in late-night mental scenarios that would comfort you on your way to slumberland.

you let out a laugh that’s an odd mix of relief and disbelief, quickly replying “yes, yes, of course” to his awaiting face, which releases a look of relief itself before jude captures your lips with such passion you’re both knocked back onto the plush pillows, giggling into each other’s mouths until your hands find themselves running down the defined muscles of his abdomen and over his hardening cock.

[strawberriesoup]

Hey hey! I’ve recently come across your blog and I just adore your writing.

I’m a sucker for Hannie catching feelings, being nervous, and flustered when he likes someone.

So I’m really interested in your take on Jisung getting ready for his first date with y/n. What’s going on in his head? Where does he take her? Is it a night in or a night out?

Does he kiss her? I really want him too. I wanna know it unfolds.

I’m just feeling so lovey dovey and warm and fuzzy over him 🥰🥰🥰

THIS IS SO CUTE???? I imagine he’s SO NERVOUS for the first date, like what if he messes up? what if he says the wrong thing?

word count: 1k

genre: han jisung x female reader, fluff fluff fluff

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Jisung holds yet another shirt in front of him, scrutinizing his appearance in the mirror. Don’t overthink this. She’s literally just coming over for dinner.

It was actually you who had suggested the date, looking much more confident than he felt. He’s positive that he scrambled up his words in his eagerness to agree, much to his embarrassment, but you seemed to have gotten the point. In his defense, it’s quite hard to form a cohesive sentence when you’re smiling at him like that.

Wiping his clammy hands on his jeans— should he have worn jeans? Would sweats be better?— Jisung finally decides on a simple black tee. (after a brief internal game of eenie meenie of course.)

Deciding on the location of the date was the easy part. Both of you are big homebodies, preferring the familiarity and sanctity of home rather than a loud, public place. The hard part was choosing whose house to have it at. After much “productive debate” it was decided that the date would take place in his apartment, and you would bring the food.

As if on cue, four sharp knocks are heard at the door right as Jisung finishes arranging his hair just so.

He restrains himself from booking it to the door, decidedly clamping down on the sudden spark of butterflies let loose in his gut.

Upon answering the door, he is immediately at a loss for words. Again. Honestly, he is much better at expressing his feelings in lyrics rather than actually saying them out loud.

You just look so… Perfect. The way your eyes crinkle up as you greet him with that smile, the slight crookedness of your jacket paired with your cheeks, rosy from the November cold. He really hopes you can’t hear the way his heart picked up just now.

“So you gonna let me in or what?” You chuckle, eyes dancing with amusement, “This takeout isn’t going to eat itself you know.”

“Oh! Yeah— right!” Jisung stumbles, “Come in, uh… make yourself at home.” The takeout bag crinkles as he takes it from you, allowing you to kick off your shoes and hang up your jacket.

His gaze jumps from the oversized tee that frames your figure just so, to the hint of a cute little pleated skirt peeking from underneath the hem. Immediately, he jerks his attention back up to your face, albeit not before you noticed him checking you out. He can feel the tips of his ears burn as you raise your eyebrows and send him a sweet little smile.

Yeah, you’re trying to kill him.

Thankfully, dinner went smoothly, as Jisung had finally managed to get his mouth and brain on the same wavelength (except when you had gotten a bit of sauce just under your lip, and instead of letting you know he kind of just stared at it.)

After the dishes had been put away and an impromptu acapella performance of “Sugar” by Maroon 5 had been performed, you two end up sat on the couch with a blanket, scrolling through Netflix for something interesting to watch.

Settling on a penguin documentary, Jisung flicks off the overhead lights before settling back down on the couch with you. He’s careful to keep a bit of space between your legs and his, not wanting to come off too strong. He wants to hold you close and run his hand through your hair. He wants to feel the pulse of your wrist flutter underneath his fingertips, the curve of your bone beneath your skin. He wants to. So badly. But he won’t, not yet. You’d probably think he’s weird.

So, when you scoot your butt towards him so your hips touch and lean your head to rest on his shoulder, it’s safe to say Jisung was a bit surprised. So much so that in fact instead of reciprocating the motion at all, he freezes in place. He scarcely dares to breathe, in fear that the slightest movement from him might cause you to move off him like a skittish cat.

Upon realizing you don’t have any plans of moving any time soon, he takes a deep breath before wrapping his arm around you, pulling you to lean on his chest rather than his shoulder.

He can feel your smile as you sigh and snuggle into him, and he thinks his heart might burst. The nervousness of earlier, the jumbled thoughts, the need to act just right, all dissipates now that you’re here in his arms.

It was 1:00 am by the time you needed to head home. Passionate discussions on the gender roles of penguins can sometimes take a while alright?

As he accompanies you to the door, he momentarily pouts to himself that you can’t stay over. Woah, Jeez. Slow down. It’s the first date.

Before he could hug you goodbye, you’re tugging on his shirt collar dragging him down to plant a kiss on his cheek. Pulling away, you giggle at the shocked look he gives you. Jisung’s face feels hot, and without thinking, he hooks an arm around your waist, drawing you flush against him. Looking into your eyes for permission, he dips down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss.

It’s brief, but those three seconds feel like a lifetime to Jisung. You’re so soft, so perfect, so you. Everything falls right into place, a perfect puzzle woven from the strings of life.

You pull away and boop him on the nose.

“Next time, it’ll be at my place.”

@jisunggy

[anaconamor]

what we started - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: based on this request! while you expected it, you didn’t anticipated it for it to hurt this much. when you’re at you’re lowest is it possible for him to lift you back up? to continue his promise of his underlying love for you? even though he's your brother's best friend?

wc: 4.2k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa🗣️: HAIII!! missed you all! hope everyone spent their breaks and or holidays well spent! here’s a brothers bsf trope fic just bc 🤭 jealous jude and slightly possesive if you squint. bold+italics are lyrics from cool about it by boygenious! i hope you enjoy!🤍

you let out a breath of fresh air, more than thankful to finally get out for winter break. It was a long semester, and don't get started on finals week. you felt like your head would explode any second if you didn't get home in the next hour. no more studying and notes for the next two weeks, just finally getting to sleep in and relax. 

the trip home was easy and quick to your surprise, giving you a chance to get some snacks along the way so you could eat while watching a movie later on. you blocked out any noise from outside, listening to the song cool about it by boygenious which played loudly on your phone, was it a good idea even though your head hurt? yes, yes it was. 

your eyebrows squinted at the amount of cars parked in the driveway and sidewalk. quickly realizing that your brother's friends and yours were here. you groan inwardly, finally thinking you had a moment of peace but were proven wrong. as much as you loved them, and still a certain individual, you wanted to be alone for the night. just you and your stuffed animals. 

before opening the door, a sudden wave of nervousness arrived upon you. your body was telling you to go inside and greet everyone, but then again your head spoke differently and decided to make you overthink. as you reached for the knob you pulled your hand back, was he here? the man you'd avoided since he broke up with you three months ago? 

jude. he was all you thought about despite it hurting. he was a forbidden man you couldn't date, made clear by your brother especially. yet that didn't stop you from going to him. to start a relationship that soon went south. not even a year you lasted together. it was all too complicated for you and him. the man you once snuck into your room so you could spend time with, could now be standing inside the door in front of you. 

with much bravery and courage, and a little pep talk you unlocked the door and felt the warm air rush upon you. you quickly turned to the rack and took off your scarf and long trench coat, fixing the material so you could avoid the cheers and greetings from your friends behind you. you wiped your hands on your jeans smiling and waving at everyone. 

“y/n! you made it!” your friend spoke as she rushed over and almost tumbled you to the ground. “yes i’m here, finally out for the break,” you let out hugging her tight as you still avoided the other faces. you looked around and saw everyone, your heart beating quicker as you locked eyes with familiar brown ones. the ones that taunted your dreams and in real life. 

the unwanted memories of when you were together, the first night at the bar where he’d seen you after so long, the sneaking around to avoid getting caught but added a thrill, the late-night kisses mixed with ice cream, going to his home to see his family, and that night he cut things off, leaving you speechless and thinking you were the reason for it. your chest tightened at the familiar memories, blinking away the tears and thoughts of the things that once happened. 

met you at the dive bar to go shoot some pool. and make fun of the cowboys with the neck tattoos. ask you easy questions about work and school.

you looked away rapidly, but jude's gaze followed you to where you were now seated on the couch, unable to look away. despite it being only three months, you looked so pretty and beautiful to him, your hair slightly longer than last time, still his y/n. your brother's little sister that he grew up along with. the one he teased and made fun of till he realized that was no longer the case. maturing was realizing that all along it was you that brought out the best in him. 

you spoke quietly among with the girls, discussing future plans for the new year, going shopping, to dinner, maybe travel somewhere, and go clubbing to find you a man, your friends words not yours, to which jude clenched his jaw tight. he didn't care if it was only three months, it still bothered him to hear you speak of any man that wasn't him. 

jude kept eavesdropping at your conversation with everyone, even though he was playing video games with your brother. “we're so glad you are here! We missed you so much it felt like ages the last time we saw you, since you're either busy with school or alone in your room,” your friend said which made you giggle nervously and play with your charm bracelet. 

jude kept quiet but kept sideyeing to see your every move. he knew you didn't feel comfortable, and slightly anxious at the amount of people surrounding you that kept asking you questions. if you were together still, he would have pulled you away from everyone making an excuse to be alone. but that wasn't the case anymore and here he was listening to your quiet and shy voice. “we just ordered pizza and wings. will you be joining us?” ask your friend. 

“uhm not tonight. i have plans made already with a uni lad, to go out for celebratory drinks, and i promised him i would go,” you said making your friend let out a small protest, but then gasp. “is he the guy you were telling me about? tall and wavy hair? the finance student?” your other friend asked in a small whisper, to which you nodded slowly and looked away embarrassed. 

jude smiled painfully, leaning back onto the couch, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, then biting the inside of his lip. he was having a hard time controlling his facial expressions, eyes digging holes into you, anger and jealousy washed upon him, fighting the urge to call you out. although he had no right to talk as he knew he had done the same and hung out with other girls. yet jude still felt hurt, sick to his stomach picturing a different man in your life, the urge to scream, to punch a wall, or maybe himself to knock sense into him. 

i'm trying to be cool about it. feelin' like an absolute fool about it. wishin' you were kind enough to be cruel about it. tellin' myself i can always do without it. knowin' that it probably isn't true. 

you had to lie on the spot, having to accept jax’s invite for drinks. you could no longer stand looking or being in the same room as him. having to feel his eyes on you every minute that passed by. you felt like crying, it was still fairly new to you, but you couldn't even tell your friends because they didn't know about you or jude. You thought you were safe, that you could've handled it, but your body was continuing to process the break up, to hear and see about the girls he hung out with, that looked nothing like you. 

you tried to forget, to forget him for the sake of your brother and friend group. however seeing him thrive in another country surrounded by the support you craved angered you. you knew part of the breakup was your fault, for failing to communicate, to be there for him. but what about those times you needed him and he wasn't there? even from the start the signs were there, you just let yourself get involved to finally be happy, to have him, to love him. 

but i'm trying to forget about it. feelin' like i'm breaking a sweat about it. wishin' you would kindly get out of my head about it. tellin' myself one day i'll forget about it. knowin' that it probably isn't true. 

after grabbing a quick drink from the kitchen you walked upstairs to your room, quickly glancing at jude who had a foul scowl on his face, cold eyes, and grim mouth. you debated whether you should go or stay here. your thumb hesitated to text jax and let him know you were going. yet again your body was speaking and letting you know it wouldn't be a good idea. 

you felt so out of place and not yourself, the shock of seeing jude still running through your head. you took a seat on the small bench at the end of your bed, head in your hands as you tried to control your breathing and tears that wanted to release. you let out a small gasp at a knock at your door, standing up and wipe away the one tear that let out, being faced with the man you wanted to avoid. 

“y/n…” jude's voice was gentle and soft as he said your name, closing the door and locking it. you ignored him, your hands rubbing your arms as you felt locked in. the world went quiet when he was with you, just the two of you longing for each other. “y/n look at me baby…” his voice rasped out as he walked close to you, but you walked back to create a distance. you painfully laugh and glance up, the lights suddenly dim. “you shouldn't be here, collin can walk in at any minute,” you remark. 

and now i have to act like i can't read your mind. i ask you how you're doing and i let you lie. but we don't have to talk about it. 

“i don’t care. let him walk in.” 

“jude-”

“i wanna talk, please? i know this feels strange, trust me i feel the same, but it's what we need,” jude says in a relaxed manner, making you mad at the audacity he had to demand things. “no it's what you need. trust me i'm fine, more than okay at where we currently stand,” you say smiling angrily. jude cocked his head to the side, becoming slightly agitated. “really? you wanna do this? i'm not okay where we stand, if anything i want to fix this, us, for the sake of our friends,” he spits out. 

“you want to come in here, and “try” to fix things for our friends?” you quote with your fingers and scoff, “that's the only thing that ever mattered to you! what everyone thinks, your friends, family, your fans, it's all you care about,” you said loudly, running a hand along your forehead and massaging your temples feeling your headache come back. 

“seriously, you wanna bring that up right now?” he looked away laughing, before bringing his attention back to you. you rolled your eyes at his attitude, shaking your head and playing with your charm bracelet once again. this was another reason probably, the constant arguments that you had together that made it not work. “you wanted to talk, so yeah i did bring that up.”

“fine let's talk about jack? or was it jax? the finance student you're going out with tonight? how do you want me to be cool about it? how would your brother feel if i told him?” jude crossed his arms, waiting for you to answer as a few moments of silence passed by. “you're being unreasonable. what does that have to do with our friends?” you asked with a face plastered with confusion.

“for starters, he's going to be around us if you date him,” your eyes widened at his words lips pursing open but continued to listen to him. “i think collin would love to know about this as well. and i wanna know who he is. who is this jax?” jude asked carefully furrowing his brows in a questioning manner, but it made you clench your jaw and swallow the hurtful words that wanted to be spilled. 

i'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning. tellin' you it's nice to see how good you're doing. even though we know it isn't true. 

“you have no right to ask me anything anymore? you broke up with me remember?” you pointed at yourself as you walked closer to him. “i get what i did wasn’t what you expected but do you really want me to sit here and tell you it doesn’t hurt to see you hook up with different girls? it’s a date jude. a date.” 

you grabbed your jacket and sighed in disbelief. you wanted to leave as soon as possible, you loved your friends but right now you wanted to be far from jude. even three months after breaking up, it felt freshly new to see him again. it ripped open the old scars and you weren’t used to it. before you could leave, jude stopped you by the door. 

“it’s not fair. i used to beg to get your attention, for you to talk to me! all i asked was to talk! a minute out your day, to tell me how you felt to hear your voice! you think it doesn’t hurt me? to see you move on? to hear from our friends, not from you, OUR friends, that you’re going on a date?” jude spit out with fury, and now you were becoming afraid that your friends downstairs would hear you guys. especially collin. 

“we didn’t work jude! you said so yourself that night. you didn’t give me a chance for me to explain myself! you thought of you and only you! i’m sorry i couldn’t give you what you wanted, i tried i did! but you were never there!” you said loudly, the bubble in your throat increasing by the second. 

“you never gave me the chance. you always had the mindset my brother would find out about us, and that’s the only thing that mattered to you! we couldn’t go out, and when we tried it was always an excuse for each of us. we weren’t meant to be,” you said without of breath, your heart now beating faster. 

“so now it’s my fault?” jude scoffed in disbelief, and threw his hands in the air desperately. 

“you’re being ridiculous,” you threw your head back in annoyance, “i'm trying to tell you how i feel about it all. it's what you're asking right? for me to be open with you even though it's too late? we both know jude, i don’t know why you keep wasting your time with me. like you said that night, to you i will always be collin’s little sister,” you say, your voice breaking. jude felt like he would break, to see you crying again, he wanted to take it all back, that night back, and fight for you harder. 

“y/n-”

“you’ll never understand what’s its like. to not be able to have your voice heard? to be that child that’s just there? to have so many people come over but greet you because they feel forced to. is that why you dated me, because you felt sorry for me?” you asked, jude immediately shaking his head. 

a knock came from the door, you and jude quickly glanced at each other worried, “i’m sorry to disturb, but collin came back from outside and he’s asking for you jude,” your friend said with a low voice, giving you a small smile reassuring you she wouldn't say anything about what she heard. “don’t worry, we were just finished, he’s all yours jude,” you said sarcastically, then walked down the stairs as jude chased you after you. 

there was still so much to be said, and he didn't want you to leave thinking he was only with you because of that. it wasn’t true, he was with you because he loved you. not because you were his little sister or because he felt sorry for you, but because for once in his life he finally found someone who brought more happiness to him than anyone else could. 

“maybe it's for the best,” your friend spoke quietly to him, patting a hand on his shoulder. jude watched you walk out again from his life, this time you weren't standing alone, but instead with a man who could probably give you all you deserved. although he still refused to lay on these terms, no matter who you were with, a part of you will always be linked to him. 

“jude hurry up man! the game is starting soon!,” he was forced out of his thoughts, sending a false smile to your oblivious brother. collin had no idea of the two of you, and never suspected anything which made jude’s guilt rise even more. even after repeatedly saying you were off limits, something about you couldn't keep jude away. he knew it was wrong, to fall for his best mate's sister, but why did it feel so right? like you were the person destined to meet jude?

you wouldn’t even give jax a chance even if he was the last man on earth. despite being the perfect match for you, something inside you always loved jude. you had two boyfriends before jude, and the each taught you something. at the early stages with jude, it felt careless, two rebel teens chasing for love. but you wanted security, and you struggled to communicate that, pushing him away because you could never fully speak it or let it be known. 

the so-called date went fine, but your mind kept tracing back to seeing jude after three months, him in your room, his tearful eyes watching you leave to be here with jax. it pained you to see him hurt again because of you again. you also knew it wasn't right to lead jax on, to be here so you could escape the curly-headed man that was probably still at your home. 

jax did understand though, a man can always sense when a woman isn't interested, and the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable or forced. after a long shared night filled with laughter and deep talks, he kissed your cheek and wished you the best of luck. “If you need anything, please dont hesitate to reach out, okay?” he gave you knowing eyes, making you laugh an nod. 

“thank you once again! be safe! and let me know when you are home!” you waved him goodbye and unlocked the door to your home for the second time that evening. it was around eleven pm, the cars that once filled your driveway were gone. you sighed comfortably at the house being silent, thankful the living room was cleaned, and the kitchen besides the dishes. 

you still weren't sleepy, as you were used to being up at this time to review material for your classes. you quickly washed them, and also dried a set of laundry to be fixed in the morning. you went upstairs and took a quick shower with hot water to soothe the aching muscles and headache. after changing into a silk camisole, you get startled by the doorbell. You tuck yourself into the covers like a little kid, reaching for your phone as it buzzed. 

open the door for me. i'm outside. 

you let out a deep breath, quickly slipping downstairs and opening the door letting jude in who was now wearing a full black nike tracksuit. your eyes stared into his intently, feeling your pulse race just by looking at his handsome features. “you’re back again?” you asked quietly walking back upstairs, jude following behind. 

“we didn’t get to finish talking. i didn't want to go back to spain the way were,” he replied closing the door and walked over to where you were sat, on the small bench by your bed. you stared at the ground, as jude rubbed his hand on your thigh in a comfort manner. he let out a deep sigh that made you lean your head on his shoulder.  

“it wasn’t true. i didn’t date you because i felt sorry for you. i fell over heels for the woman who once in my life loved me for who i was, and gave me the chance to be who i am without caring. i know it seemed like i cared about others, but all i wanted was to protect you from the harm they could do to us. but in the end it was us who caused it,” jude joked which made you let out a stifled small laugh. 

“i'm sorry y/n. for what i said to you that night and those past times. if i could take it all back i would. you didn't deserve that, and it hurts me because i'm the reason for it, “ jude said painfully, he struggled to find the words. you pulled back from his shoulder, walking around to sit yourself on his lap, to wipe the tear that escaped his pretty brown eyes. he had been crying before coming here, his eyes sunken and bloodshot red. “don’t cry jude…”

“do you still love me?” he asked unsurely, biting his lip. he looked up almost taking your silence as a painful answer, but was rewarded with you nodding. “so so much, i can’t not stop loving you and its scary because we both live different worlds. those times where you just wanted a small answer and i couldn't give it to you? i'm sorry for making you feel like that, for not making you feel wanted, i thought… i thought…” you sniffled and broke into a small sob, tears coming down your cold cheeks. 

“hey, hey, hey, shh baby it's okay… just take deep breaths… it's just me and you okay?” jude gabbed your hands and kissed them gently, “don't blame just yourself, we both faulted our breakup, it wasn't meant to be then, but now that we learned from that we can avoid it,” he said with a small sad smile. 

“when you left again, everything felt unexplored and out of place. i sat by my window and lingered for you to come back, like those times you snuck in here… i took lengthier ways to school to avoid the areas we once walked by. i even ate those stupid gummy worms you love so much,” you said sniffling and laughing. “i can’t do that anymore, because i want you back jude. every second that passed by without you, it hurt me. it still does knowing it feels like were strangers again.”

jude's eyes went wild at your admission, “i get that part of it was because i couldn't communicate, and i'm working on that. you just have to trust me and give me some time, it all felt so rushed and sudden, and i thought you cared about them and not me at times,” you finally said after waiting almost a year to say. 

“i will always care about you. when i left that night i knew i made a mistake. i felt like an idiot because i know you struggled at times to say what you wanted. and i know i only thought of me but i promise it isnt going to be like that anymore, baby. as long as we can work and talk it out, that's what matters most to us right?” you nodded to his question. 

“no more caring about what they think. as long as were both happy and in love, it will keep me sane. that day will come, but when times right,” jude continued referring to telling your friends and brother. “i hope you know i don't regret a single thing of it, for falling in love with you despite you being my best friend's sister,” he smirked. “good because at the end of the day, knowing its forbidden, it feels right being with you like this. here alone where it's just us…” you say shyly. 

“my shy girl still hasn't changed has she? still so shy that she can't even look at me properly when i’m trying to admire her beauty,” jude teased you which made you shake your head. “although she wasn't so shy when she left for jack? or was it jax?” jude frowned. “he’s nothing, just an excuse for me to not see you…” you smiled evilly as you confessed. 

“so nothing’s going on with you and jack? or jax was it?” he asked teasingly, making you smack his shoulder playfully. “no now stop i before it does become something serious,” you warn him to which he gives you a taken-at-back look. “not while you’re still mine baby… always have been and always will be. let jack or jax know that, ” jude said seriously, kissing your jawline. 

you sunk into his warm embrace, feeling at home and safe in his arms. “who would’ve thought i’d be with my brother's best friend huh?” you say feeling his warm soft lips trace from your jaw to your lips. “definitely not me,” jude said shaking his head no, paying attention to the small shiver you released as he kissed your pulse. you had to hold back the small moan that wanted to release at his next words and movements. 

“kiss me y/n. exactly how you want and need.” 

[httpsdana]

can you write about reader asking kebab to star in her new music video as her male lead and him being not to confident about it plsss 😔

Spotlight~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who i write for

It started as a casual dinner conversation, the kind where ideas flowed freely, accompanied by laughter and clinking glasses. She was seated across from Kenan at their dining table, his brows furrowing slightly as she animatedly described her latest project—a music video for her upcoming single.

“I want it to feel authentic, like a real love story,” she said, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “The male lead should have that perfect mix of charm and vulnerability. Someone who’s real.”

Kenan nodded along, taking a sip of his drink. “Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out. Who’s the lucky guy?”

She leaned forward, her lips quirking into a mischievous smile. “You.”

He blinked, caught completely off guard. “Me?”

“Yes, you!” she replied, her tone firm yet playful. “Kenan, you’re perfect for this. You already know me better than anyone else, and our chemistry is exactly what I want to capture on screen.”

Kenan leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming nervously against the table. “I don’t know, aşkim. I’ve never done anything like that before. I’m a footballer, not an actor.”

“You don’t need to act,” she countered, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. “You just have to be yourself. That’s what will make it special.”

Kenan hesitated, his gaze dropping to where their fingers intertwined with his. “What if I mess it up? What if I make you look bad?”

“You could never make me look bad,” she said softly, squeezing his hand. “Besides, you’ve seen me in the studio, fumbling through takes and trying to hit the right notes. It’s okay to be unsure. That’s what makes it real.”

He chuckled at the memory of her cursing under her breath after a missed cue or an offbeat lyric. “You always make it work, though.”

“And so will you,” she replied confidently. “Please, Kenan. It would mean so much to me.”

His eyes searched hers, still unsure but visibly softening at the sincerity in her expression. “If it’s that important to you… okay. I’ll do it.”

She let out an excited squeal, jumping out of her chair and pulling him into a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re going to be amazing, I promise.”

Kenan wrapped his arms around her, his nerves momentarily forgotten in the warmth of her embrace. “Just don’t laugh at me if I mess up.”

“I won’t,” she assured him, pulling back to look into his eyes. “But I might fall even more in love with you.”

His cheeks flushed, a rare but endearing sight, and he smiled despite himself. “Well, in that case, I guess I better give it my all.”

The filming began a week later. Kenan showed up to the set early, dressed casually in a white button-up shirt and jeans, looking equal parts nervous and out of place. The crew buzzed around, setting up cameras and adjusting lights, but his eyes found his girl immediately. She walked over, squeezing his arm reassuringly.

“Don’t worry,” she said, smiling up at him. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

The first scene was simple—just the two of them walking through a sunlit park, holding hands and exchanging soft smiles. Despite the simplicity, Kenan stiffened as soon as the cameras started rolling.

“Cut!” the director called out after the first take. “Kenan, relax a little. Don’t overthink it.”

Kenan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Easier said than done.”

She stepped closer, touching his arm lightly. “Hey, don’t focus on the cameras. Just on me, okay? It’s just us.”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and the next take went smoother. She led him through the motions, her hand squeezing his reassuringly every now and then.

The next scene, she had to rest her head on his shoulder as they both sat under a tree, laughing softly at nothing in particular. Between takes, she teased him to ease his nerves.

“See? You’re a natural,” she said after a particularly good shot.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “If by natural, you mean awkward, then sure.”

A specifically hard scene came up, it was the emotional climax—set in a softly lit room, where the two of them had to act out a moment of vulnerability, gazing into each other’s eyes as if confessing unspoken feelings. The director explained the setup, and Kenan looked like he wanted to bolt.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered, brushing her hand against his. “Just think of it as... us, but with cameras watching.”

“Comforting,” he muttered dryly, but he didn’t pull away.

When the cameras rolled, something clicked. His nervousness melted as he focused on her, his eyes softening in a way that made her heart skip. The way he reached for her hand, the way his thumb brushed against her knuckles—it felt so natural, so real, that the crew barely had to give any direction.

When the director called, “Cut!” applause erupted on set.

Kenan blinked, looking around in surprise. “Was that... good?”

“Good?” she repeated, laughing as she threw her arms around him. “Kenan, that was perfect!”

He wrapped his arms around her, a sheepish smile on his face. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” she insisted, pulling back to look at him. “You were incredible. You made this everything I imagined and more.”

The director then approached them both with a clipboard, explaining the next scene. “This is where you kiss. It needs to feel natural and romantic, like you’ve just realized how much you mean to each other.”

Kenan stiffened beside her, his hand instinctively finding hers. “A kiss?” he murmured, leaning closer to her.

She nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s just a kiss, Kenan. We’ve done it a million times before.”

“Yeah, but not in front of cameras and a whole crew,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing.

She squeezed his hand gently. “remember it’s only us, okay?”

The set was cleared of unnecessary crew members to make the moment more private, but the presence of the cameras still loomed. The scene was set on a dimly lit balcony, fairy lights twinkling overhead as the two of them stood close, the city skyline glowing in the background.

The director called, “Action!”

She stepped closer to Kenan, her eyes locking with his. She could feel the tension in his body as he inhaled deeply, his jaw tightening slightly. To help him relax, she reached up and rested a hand on his chest, his touch gentle but grounding.

“Just you and me,” she whispered, barely audible but enough for him to hear.

His shoulders eased, and his eyes softened. Slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss started hesitant, almost shy, but the familiarity between them guided the moment. Her fingers slid up to his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

Kenan’s hand rested at her waist, his grip firm but comforting. The world around them seemed to blur—there were no cameras, no crew, just the two of them sharing a moment that felt far too real for a scripted scene. When the kiss ended, his forehead rested against hers, his breathing slightly unsteady.

“Cut!” the director called out, sounding pleased. “That was perfect!”

Kenan pulled back, his ears tinged red as he avoided eye contact with the crew. He turned to his girlfriend, his voice low. “That didn’t feel like acting.”

She laughed softly, brushing her fingers against his cheek. “That’s because it wasn’t.”

Kenan smiled, his confidence growing as he realized how much he had nailed the moment. “Maybe I’m not so bad at this after all. But don’t get used to this—I’m not quitting football anytime soon.”

“Fair enough,” she replied, laughing softly. “But you’ll always be my favorite male lead.”

[azulpitlane]

got love stuck part 3 please i’m begging it’s so good i need it

out of the woods I ln4

pairing: lando norris x reader, exbf! mason mount x reader summary: in which lando has to communicate his insecurities but is he too late? notes: ask and you shall receive, this one took a while cause I had it all written out then I hated it and started over😇but this is the last part!! i loved making this thank u for being so supportive considering part one was my first ever post!! now send some requests hehe part one, part two, masterlist

lando i fucked up, its too late

danny ric what do you mean its too late?

lando i texted her and no response she went to dinner with mason tonight they're probably still together right now

danny ric okay so you're jumping into conclusions AGAIN you have to have some faith in her mate and stop assuming the worst

lando she was with her ex after our breakup what am I suppose to do?

danny ric communicate, you muppet you can't just give up after one try

lando okay okay you're right, i was overthinking im booking the next flight to london

danny ric um i was thinking maybe a phone call?

lando too late, already booked it

dailymail

102,339 likes

dailymail Trouble in paradise? Singer Y/n Y/l/n and F1 driver Lando Norris reunited in London today. Onlookers claim the two were having a heated conversation about their relationship and it is unclear whether the two are currently together or not. Was this argument result of Y/l/n's infidelity? The singer was spotted twice within this month with ex boyfriend, Mason Mount. Read more on the singer's relationship timeline with Mount and Norris in our article linked in the bio.

view all comments

user yes lets just make assumptions that y/n is a cheater based on nothing🙄

user if lando took her back ill be so mad. shes so toxic

user you have no idea what shes like in real life? you're just basing your opinion on some stupid tabloid that constantly spreads misinformation on her

user WAR IS OVER (THEYRE STILL TOGETHER IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS).

user YUP Y/N AND LANDO DEFENDER TIL I DIE user SAME IM CONVINCED SHE NEVER CHEATED IDC IDC

user this doesn't even look like a heated argument to me?? y'all be doing too much

user please let this be just a friendly conversation and her and mason got back together☹️

user its been a year, I think its time to move on from that relationship user yup!! shes clearly moved on y'all need to do it too user her relationship with lando has been messy from the start, she never had to deal with this drama with mason that's all im sayin

user this page is obsessed with y/n!! leave my girl aloneeee

yourusername

liked by landonorris, masonmount and 5,283,239 others

yourusername out of the woods out now.

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selenagomez on repeat already💙 liked by yourusername

user WAIT WHOS THE GUY IN THE LAST SLIDE

user HAS TO BE LANDO user praying its mase but I have a feeling its lando☹️

user the way these lyrics can apply to both mason or lando so we have no clue who its about🧍‍♀️

user and they both liked aghhhh!!!!

danielricciardo amazing song, so so proud liked by yourusername

francisca.cgomes can't stop listening im obsessed😍 liked by yourusername

user okay danny and the wags are all commenting this is a good sign for us lando and y/n defenders

alexandrasaintmleux you're so talented I love it!! liked by yourusername

user y/n dropping this after being seen with lando again, I think its time for us mason defenders to retire :(

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 920,482 others

landonorris want you for worse or for better, would wait forever and ever tagged yourusername

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user YES WE CAN FINALLY SAY WAR IS OVER

user I KNEW IT YES

yourusername and that's how it works💙

user these are definitely song lyrics AHHHH user landos listened to the new album omfsgnks user new album is gonna be mix of love and breakup songs with the drama methinks

user MOM AND DAD ARE DONE FIGHTING

maxfewtrell sap

user careful lando, once a cheater always a cheater

user where is the proof of her cheating?? there literally is none user they literally broke up after she was seen with mason user give up this narrative already!! her and lando are clearly happy together so who cares

yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 7,284,234 others

yourusername these past few weeks have felt like a crazy, emotional train wreck but there's nobody else I would've rather done it with than my best friend and lover💙 i usually never address anything like this but there are somethings that aren't easy to shake off especially when it comes to my relationship and my loyalty being questioned. there has never been somebody who has been so perfect for me and i would never trade this love for anybody elses. i could go on and on about it but i find it easier to communicate through music.

my new album is out tonight at midnight, it is a collection of songs written from last year to now. interpret the songs as you like but just know there is only one person im in love with right now.

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user OMFG WEVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

user she just nicely told all mason x y/n supporters to stfu

user not only that but she beat the cheater allegations🙏

user THIS IS SO CUTE WHAT

user "would never trade this love for anybody elses" IMCRYIN

landonorris love you so so much, dont know what I would do without you

yourusername lan love u more🥹 user AWWW user nobody can be a mason x y/n fan after this cause they are too cute

landonorris this album is amazing, im so incredibly proud of you and everything you've been through liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 very excited for this one liked by yourusername

masonmount this was very well said, congrats on the new album!! liked by yourusername

user OMG? user in their besties era omdfsnkln user I knew they were just friends through all this!!!

user okay officially retiring the mason x y/n agenda..it was a good run

user def the end of an era but our girl is happy🫶

user now that the drama is over can we focus on how good this album is gonna be

user fr the drought is officially over

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbff and 3,232,325 others

yourusername the love for my new album has been insane, thank you guys so much!! so many records broken just on the first day of the release and i couldn't have done it without you guys💙

now it is time to hibernate for a little bit and spend some much needed time off with my loved ones so this is a lil goodbye... for now!

see ya later

view all comments

user NO COME BACK

user gave us some lando content before dipping, thank u mother

user she took 'I know places we won't be found' to a whole different level because nobody can find out where theyre vacationing

user good!! they need some privacy after this messy drama

landonorris got you all to myself now

maxfewtrell gross yourusername perv

kellypiquet ❤️‍🩹 liked by yourusername

user but will we see you at the paddock next season🥹

yourusername ofc!! catch me rooting for my babyyy

user what a crazy era. hopefully well get some performances and lando supporting after this break

landonorris will be front row at every show user wag and rockstar's bf. try not to say parents challenge omg user can't wait for the content of them supporting each other at races and concerts ahhh

yourbff pls dont make me an auntie soon im too young

yourusername okay im officially logging off.

tags: @jayrami3 @whoselly @roseseraj @saturnbloom77@landowecanbewc

[lionhanie]

han taesan ; end up here

maybe a tad angsty (taesan is an overthinker), fluff at end!, campus crush (he's literally in love with you), college au, reader is a baddie mhm yep yep

word count: 2.2k wtf

warnings: cursing, implied insecurity (taesan), alcohol usage, alcohol + weed mention, party setting, i'm literally so cliche but idgaf

this work is part of my boynextdoor as old 5sos songs series! ↳ if you want to listen to the song, here u go!

a/n: everyone rejoice... other members are mentioned >:D ok i lied. i tried to fit everyone in but it's mainly riwoo & leehan. and it felt wrong to find a way to include woonhak in a college party where there are Drugs and Alcohol buttttt hope u enjoy mwuwhuwhuh

likes ♡ and reblogs ↺ always appreciated!

taesan really didn’t want to go to this party, but riwoo and leehan had insisted it would be more fun than staying in his dorm room writing song lyrics the third weekend in a row. not that he doesn’t want to party, but he’d rather spend his time doing something he’s /actually/ interested in-- and right now, it doesn’t include making awkward small talk with strangers he will probably never see again in a sweaty led-lit room with mediocre music in the background. 

“taesan… come on! i understand that you love making music, but don’t you think it’s time to come out with us? just this once?” riwoo pleads with him, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. reluctantly, taesan spins around in his chair, turning to face his friend properly. 

“ah, i knew i shouldn’t have turned around. it’s so much easier to say no to you when i’m not looking at your face. put those puppy eyes away, i’ll go change.” he gives in a bit easier than he initially intended to, unable to hide his smile at the way riwoo does a dance of celebration at his successful convincing. 

leehan, currently leaning on the doorframe, chuckles at the sight. “i don’t think it’d be bad for you to go out with us from time to time,” he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before continuing his thought, “maybe you’ll find some more song inspiration while we're out.”

taesan rolls his eyes and ushers the two out of his room, quickly changing into one of his favorite shirts and fixing his hair in the mirror. after grabbing a couple of accessories and checking himself out in the mirror one last time, the trio make their way to the house in question. it’s only a party, it shouldn't be too bad... 

“wow, the weather’s perfect tonight.” leehan admires, hands in his pockets as they walk through campus, warmly lit by the streetlights scattered around. the crisp night air only seems to give taesan cold feet, as he feels the sudden urge to turn around and walk back to the laptop waiting for him in his dorm (despite being only a couple seconds away from their destination). almost expecting this to happen, riwoo stops in his tracks, causing taesan to bump into him.

riwoo crosses his arms, ready to give the best pep talk of his life. “i swear i can hear your thoughts. dude, don’t overthink this! it’s just another one of jaehyun’s parties, nothing crazy. we’re gonna have fun tonight!" riwoo frowns at taesan's doubtful expression. "leehan, help me out here.”

“i’m sure you’ll recognize at least half the people there. plus, you look cool.” leehan pats him on the back as a means of reassurance before putting his arm around taesan, practically dragging him through the door. 

upon entering, taesan is immediately reminded of the last time his two friends convinced him to go out with them-- it reeked of cheap weed, the music absolutely sucked, and to top it all off, someone spilled their mystery drink (?) all over his shirt. never again, he told himself that night.

but here he was, red solo cup in hand as he followed his two friends around while they greeted various people around the room. taesan actually could not recognize anyone else except his classmates, sungho and jaehyun, who were sitting on the couch against the wall. the concoction in his cup was barely touched, disgustingly sweet because of the various juices in it, and alcohol too strong to enjoy it in the slightest. maybe he should’ve stayed home.

“you walked in, everyone was asking for your name / you just smiled and told them trouble” 

“no way…is that y/n? y’know, i was convinced you’d never show up to one of my parties, but here you are!” jaehyun nearly jumps up from his place on the couch, hugging you at the entrance before shoving a cup full of who-knows-what into your hand. no way, indeed.

never did taesan think he would end up seeing his campus crush as close as he is now. this is crazy. he finds himself straightening his posture suddenly, even going as far as taking a big gulp of the drink in his hand, despite its unappealing taste. he'd noticed you early into the semester, finding you sitting with your friends out in one of the common areas outside his classes. he didn’t think much of it-- that is, until he kept seeing you. like, everywhere. he'd never admit it to himself, but he soon found himself looking forward to seeing you around. eventually, it got to the point where he started dressing a little nicer on the days he knew you’d be there, in hopes that you might notice him too. 

“i think some of your friends are here already, y/n. oh, a few of my friends from class came too, you'll love them!” jaehyun encourages you to introduce yourself on the spot. while slightly flustered, you look around the room with a smile as you wave to the various people.

“shit, how many friends do you have?” you joke, taking a sip from your cup before properly introducing yourself to a room full of, well, strangers. “nice to meet you everyone, i’m y/n!” you do a little twirl, which earns a couple whistles from around the room. taesan swore he felt the room brighten up with your arrival. your presence felt like a breath of fresh air in a stuffy room full of people. he moves to take another gulp of his drink as the two of you lock eyes briefly, making him cough before he could properly swallow. 

“y/n…who’s that? you know them?” leehan questions from next to him, pointing his cup in the direction of the front door. taesan only hums and shakes his head ‘no’ in response, his eyes glued to you as you dance along with the friends you’d just greeted. 

“my head spins / i’m pressed against the wall just watching your every move / you’re way too cool / now you’re coming this way” 

despite his sudden reluctance to drink when he first got there, taesan found himself with a freshly replenished cup planted in his hand as he leaned against the wall. the alcohol was starting to get to him; he could definitely feel the buzz with the way the room felt like it got a couple degrees hotter. or maybe it was just you being there that was making him warmer than he was ten minutes ago. he was vaguely listening to the conversation his classmates were having next to him, but his eyes always found their way back to you. he’s seeing you in a completely different light. normally, he’d be one to briefly admire from afar as he walked out of his lecture hall; now, you’re here. 

and all of a sudden it’s a little too real, because what do you mean he gets to see you laugh and dance around with your friends…? you’re just supposed to be the campus crush he never gets the chance to make a move on. wait. this is his chance to make a move, isn’t it? oh god, what if he doesn’t get another opportunity like this to talk to you without looking like some weird dude who’s been looking at you across campus-

“how did we end up talking in the first place? / you said you liked my cobain shirt”

“cool shirt. kurt cobain, yeah?” oh shit. and now you’re in front of him. riwoo elbows taesan, which was his way of telling him ‘good luck.’ the action snaps him out of his thoughts, eyes widening ever so slightly before he clears his throat.

“yeah, it is. you know nirvana then?” he scratches the back of his head, noticing his friends moving their conversation away from the two of you out of his peripheral vision. he mentally curses them out, because now this conversation feels like he needs to make sure he doesn’t make a fool out of himself, and now there’s no one there to butt in and save him. 

“obviously! you can’t say you know kurt cobain if you don’t know who nirvana is.” you beam at him as you finish the drink you were holding in your hand. his campus crush listens to one of his favorite artists, surely this isn’t real.

“taesan,” he blurts out, “i’m taesan, by the way. and you are..?” he waits for your response, as if your name wasn’t the only thing floating in his mind the second jaehyun welcomed you inside. (this is his attempt of being nonchalant btw)

“i’m y/n!” you look down at your empty cup briefly before looking around the room aimlessly. “do you want to get out of here?”

“what? you want to… leave?” with him? like this? now he’s almost sure this is some sort of prank or something. he’s taken aback at the bold request, clearly confused at what the hell is going on.

“it’s hot in here. and loud. you don’t want to step outside for a minute?” you placed your cup down on a random table, already making your way towards the door. you look at taesan, extending out your hand for him to grab so you can drag him through the crowd. 

oh, you just want to get some fresh air. okay. that makes a lot more sense. he’s glad the lighting is so bad in there, as he’s almost certain his ears are red as he looks at your waiting hand. he mimics your actions, putting his cup down on the counter before finally placing his hand in yours and letting you lead the way. 

“now we’re walking back to your place / you’re telling me how you love that song about living on a prayer” 

the two of you sit side by side on the curb outside the house, slowly getting more used to each other as you go on about random topics-- first, it was music... then clothes... eventually turning into a never-ending stream of conversation topics neither of you wanted to put an end to. he’s in awe of the situation he’s currently in: you look so beautiful under the streetlights, and you keep laughing at his jokes, and maybe the weather really is perfect tonight, just as leehan said earlier.

...taesan doesn’t exactly know how he finds himself sitting on your living room floor, but he vaguely remembers you complaining about how your outfit was too uncomfortable and you desperately needed to change. he instinctively offers to walk you back to your apartment to get some comfier clothes on; you even offer him one of your bigger hoodies for him to change into. it was still a little small for his liking, but he accepts your kind gesture happily.

much to his satisfaction, the conversation never dies. hours pass as you two continue talking about anything and everything. the things you miss from your hometowns, embarrassing childhood stories, outrageous things you've witnessed at past parties you've been to-- and it all flows so naturally. taesan swears he is in love, because even though he was lucky enough to find a great group of friends at uni, he’d never clicked with someone like this so fast, let alone the person he's been crushing on for weeks now. 

“my friends say i should lock you down / before you figure me out and you run away / but you don’t and you won’t / as you kiss me and you tell me that you’re here to stay” 

taesan is disappointed when he wakes up. damn it, he knew it was a dream. he blinks a couple times before reaching for his phone on his nightstand, only to be met with… carpet? and you, his campus crush, the person he spent the entire night talking to until you both eventually fell asleep on the apartment floor next to each other, laying on the carpet two feet away from him. sitting up almost immediately, he covers his mouth in disbelief as he takes in the situation, desperately looking for where his phone is without making too much noise.

→ 6 missed texts from The Boyz groupchat! riwoo: taesanieeee did u go back to the dorm without telling us :(  leehan: Wasn’t he talking to y/n? leehan: Check outside sungho: yeah, he’s still out there talking to them sungho: leave him be lmao jaehyun: actually? this isn’t really y/n’s type of crowd jaehyun: i’m surprised they haven’t gone home yet LOL keep up the good work taesan ;)

he puts his phone down on the floor, letting out a sigh as he places his head in his hands. oh god, and they’re already on him about this. he can’t help but let the last message jaehyun sent get to his head. not your crowd, huh? yeah, makes sense. after all, you shone so bright last night, it’s only reasonable for them to think that you probably wouldn’t get along with a guy who practically hugged the wall the whole time.

“he’s just trying to psych you out, you know.” you ran your hands through your hair as you stretch, taesan’s phone in hand. he shoots up immediately, in shock at the realization that you were awake and that you read the texts on his phone. “sorry for taking a peek at your groupchat, was just curious about what had you sulking so early in the morning.” you pass it back to him, his cheeks visibly flushed in embarrassment; the sunlight shining through the blinds only illuminating his current flustered state further. 

“i wasn’t planning on coming to the party last night, by the way. i only showed up because he told me you’d be there. you think i haven’t noticed you around campus too?” you smile at him from your place on the floor, moving over to give him a peck on the cheek. he thinks it’s insane how charming you can get, even if you just woke up. “stop worrying so much-- i’m here to stay, taesan. only if you treat me to breakfast though.” 

taesan doesn’t exactly know how he ended up here, but he was almost certain he'd found his new muse.

© lionhanie 2024 ; all rights reserved!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

You’re probably sick to death of rap discourse by now but I’m compelled to throw in what (I hope) is a bespoke take: I actually enjoy rap and find it very catchy and lyrical, especially the uptempo stuff. Unfortunately I start trying to sing along to the verses. Unfortunately I am a white woman. You see where I am going with this. Now I only listen to white rappers in public and have to pretend that I’m just sheltered and out of touch when my coworkers talk about music because I’m caught in a hard stop ‘can not reclaim’ situation despite having had the lyrics to Anaconda memorized for ten years now.

Before anyone says I could kidz bop this problem, No I Refuse I Hate Kidz Bop.

The only white person who has successfully evaded this problem is when Olly Alexander covered Call Me By Your Name and pulled off ‘You livin’ the life but baby, you ain’t livin’ right’.

This obviously does not work for many other songs. ‘Real country-ass baby let me play with his rifle’ No.

‘Every time I get mentioned one of y’all bitch-ass babies gets 24 hours of attention’ Horrible.

what the fuck are you talking about just take a second-long pause for the n word like a normal person??? white woman to white woman you are wildly overthinking this. what the fuck do you mean you pretend you're sheltered with your coworkers. why are you creating so many extra layers to your own non-issue.

[77zrose]

ZB1 REALISING THEY FELL FOR THEIR BESTFRIEND

genre : ot9, fluff “ 🧺 .*

김지웅 kim jiwoong

Jiwoong would notice his feelings quietly, during a moment when you’re laughing or doing something mundane. He’d feel a pang in his chest and think, Why does this feel so different now? Jiwoong is someone who values control over his emotions, so he’d likely try to keep things normal.

Over time, his actions would subtly shift. He’d linger a bit too long after walking you home, or his texts would become more thoughtful. One evening, as you both sit on a park bench under the stars, he’d finally let his feelings slip.

Jiwoong: “You know, being with you makes everything feel… easier. Happier. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I… I think I’ve fallen for you. I don’t want to risk ruining what we have, but I can’t pretend anymore.”

성한빈 sung hanbin

Hanbin’s first instinct upon realizing his feelings would be panic. He’d smile through the confusion, but internally he’d be thinking, This can’t be happening. What if I ruin our friendship? He’d probably talk to someone he trusts to figure out what to do, all while being extra attentive toward you.

One evening, after you’ve spent the day together laughing and sharing stories, he’d muster the courage to bring it up.

Hanbin: “I’ve been meaning to tell you something… I think I’ve started seeing you differently lately. I’m not sure when it happened, but… I think I’ve fallen for you. I care about you so much, and I just hope you can feel the same.”

장하오 zhanghao

Zhanghao’s realization would hit him during a quiet moment—like when you’re both reading or working on something together. He’d glance at you and suddenly feel his heart race. His first thought would be, Oh no… this is dangerous.

Zhanghao isn’t one to bottle things up for too long. After spending a week analyzing his feelings, he’d decide to confess in a straightforward but warm way. Over coffee, he’d break the silence.

Zhanghao: “I need to tell you something, and I want you to know I’ve thought about it carefully. I think I’ve fallen for you. I know this changes everything, but you’re too important for me to not be honest.”

석매튜 seok matthew

Matthew would be adorably clumsy about the whole situation. When he first realizes he has feelings for you, he’d start stammering or avoiding eye contact whenever you’re around. He’d try to act normal, but his little gestures—like remembering your favorite drink or texting you late at night—would give him away.

Eventually, he wouldn’t be able to hold it in. During a casual hangout, he’d blurt it out unexpectedly.

Matthew: “Okay, I can’t keep this in anymore! I like you. Like, really like you. You’re my best friend, and I know this might sound crazy, but I don’t think I can keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

김태래 kim taerae

Taerae’s feelings would sneak up on him gradually. He’d notice how much happier he feels when you’re around, how your smile stays in his mind long after you’ve left. Being the artistic and emotional person he is, he’d likely channel his emotions into music first.

One day, he’d ask you to listen to a song he wrote. As the melody fills the air, the lyrics would describe his feelings—how he fell for his best friend and is scared but hopeful. When the song ends, he’d look at you nervously.

Taerae: “I’ve been writing this for a while because I didn’t know how else to tell you… I like you. More than just a friend.”

리키 ricky

Ricky would try to act like nothing’s changed, but his behavior would say otherwise. He’d tease you more often, throwing playful comments your way to hide his nervousness. Behind the scenes, he’d overthink every interaction, wondering if you feel the same.

Eventually, his confident exterior would crack, and he’d decide to tell you in his own charming way. During a late-night walk, he’d turn to you with a soft smile.

Ricky: “You know, you’re the only person who can make me nervous. I realized it’s because I’ve started liking you—more than a friend should. I don’t know how you feel, but I had to tell you.”

김규빈 kim gyuvin

Gyuvin would be hilariously awkward about his feelings. He’d start stumbling over his words around you, his ears turning red whenever you’re near. The other members would tease him relentlessly for how obvious he’s being.

After working up his courage, he’d sit you down one evening and try to explain.

Gyuvin: “Okay, so… this is really hard for me to say, but I like you. Like, really like you. And I know I’m being super awkward, but I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”

박건욱 park gunwook

Gunwook would be in denial at first, brushing off his feelings as just admiration. But when he catches himself thinking about you constantly, he’d realize it’s more than that. He’d try to impress you subtly—showing off his skills or taking extra care to support you.

Finally, he’d choose a bold but heartfelt moment to confess, like when you’re both watching a sunset together.

Gunwook: “You mean a lot to me. More than just a friend. I don’t know when it happened, but I’ve fallen for you. And I’d do anything to make you happy, whether or not you feel the same.”

한유진 han yujin

Yujin would be the shyest about his feelings. He’d blush whenever you’re around and would try to avoid making it obvious, but his small acts of kindness—like sharing his snacks or sending you cute messages—would give him away.

One day, he’d finally confess in the sweetest, most innocent way. He’d hand you a small gift, like a handwritten letter, and nervously mumble his feelings.

Yujin: “I… I wanted to tell you something. You’re really important to me, and I think… I think I like you. I know this might be sudden, but I hope you understand how much you mean to me.”

[eunseoksimp]

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

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

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

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

Genre: Angst, Songfic

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

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

read part 1 here

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

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

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

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

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

park wonbin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but he hadn’t seen it.

not the way you saw him.

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

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

because he didn’t know.

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

but not for you. never for you.

this was the song.

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then it was your turn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hey, you good?”

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

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

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

“just tired.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and maybe he was.

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

you couldn’t look.

you couldn’t not look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m not sure if i—“

“come on, one drink won’t hurt—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he didn’t know.

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

but none of it reached him.

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

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

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

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

you were great tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

wonbin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“disappearing.”

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

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

“i needed some air.”

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

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

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

“you feeling okay?”

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

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

“i’m fine.”

“...you don’t seem fine.”

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

“what do you want me to say, wonbin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you should go back.”

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

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

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

“and you?”

you couldn’t answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“figured i’d find you here early.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “ever heard of personal space?”

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

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

“you’re impossible.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“thought you might need this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“just messing around really, drawing from some inspiration”

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

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

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

“it’s nothing special.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"it doesn’t have a name yet."

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

"play it again."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

there was a collective pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

celebrate?

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

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

"you’re thinking too loud."

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

"you don’t want to go."

it wasn’t a question.

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

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

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

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

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

the ache in your chest curled tighter.

if only it were that simple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

yunjin’s grin softened the blow. 

"that’s all i needed to hear."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“this is it.”

"maybe I should just—"

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

"i wasn’t going to skip."

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

"then you’re wearing this."

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

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

“no.”

“yes.”

“yunjin, i’m serious—”

“so am i.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s not about him.”

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

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

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

“he’ll notice,” she said simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but none of it touched you.

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

wonbin.

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

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

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

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

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

because wonbin’s gaze had found you.

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

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

and in that moment, the room dissolved.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“staring.”

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

“i’m not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you sure you’re good to drive?”

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

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

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

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

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

hongjoong snorted. “right. saint wonbin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

then finally—finally—he spoke.

“sit up front. with me”

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

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

just him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sit up front with me, please..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

wonbin said nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

it hadn’t left you.

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

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

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

you didn’t follow—not yet.

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

wonbin didn’t move either.

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

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

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

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

“everything okay?”

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

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

“you look good tonight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yunjin and minjeong didn’t follow.

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

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

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

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

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

you felt the moment his attention flicked back toward you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

minjeong snorted softly, barely concealing her amusement.

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

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

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

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

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

you shook your head, rolling your eyes playfully. 

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

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

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

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

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

this was supposed to be enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but it doesn’t last.

and then it broke.

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

cold washed over you in its absence.

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

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

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

but you wouldn’t let her, not tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his touch wasn’t hurried.

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

and god, the way he looked at you.

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

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

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

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

“what are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but here you were.

and there he was—close enough to touch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“everything’s good with us, right?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’ve been slipping away.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i don’t know what you mean.”

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

“yeah, you do.”

his voice wasn’t confrontational, but firm.

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

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

"you didn’t hate it, did you?"

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

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

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

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

it felt like a weight pressing deeper into your chest.

"so… what is it then?"

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

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

he was waiting, and that made everything worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

it felt like everything. 

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

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

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

“you look pretty.”

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

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

and now—now it was different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

but he didn’t.

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

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

you can’t do this.

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

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

they were right, you knew they were right.

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

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

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

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

you couldn’t.

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

and then he leaned in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

and for once, you let it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you felt the absence immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

how could you have been so naive?

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

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

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

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

you made the decision for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

wonbin would never belong to you.

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

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

you had already come undone.

[mrsjellymunson]

Hurt Me

Written for the @steddiemicrofic November prompt ‘guard’ | WC target: 532 | Rating: M | CW: hurt/no comfort, angst, mentions of sex, feelings denial, self-sabotage | Tags: rockstar!Eddie Munson, personal assistant!Steve Harrington, top!Eddie Munson, bottom!Steve Harrington, shameless use of pop song lyrics 

He’s done the right thing. He’s sure of it. If Eddie’s learned anything from a life on the road it’s that he needs to guard his heart. There’s no room for messy things like feelings, emotions, anything even resembling love.

And that’s definitely not what they had. Absolutely not. Not by a long way. Whatever he and Steve had was strictly business. 

Until it wasn’t… 

So what if they happened to cross paths when Eddie swung by Hawkins on a break from touring, and he realized Steve wasn't that douche from High School anymore, he was actually a good dude. 

Or that Steve ended up being the best Personal Assistant Eddie’d ever had. Or that he became the best friend Eddie’d ever had.

And so what if they started hooking up after shows, they were just purging adrenalin, right? And then between shows, then after meetings, then before meetings…

So what if Steve sometimes stays the night - it’s just easier to get to whatever thing they have the next day. Or that they shared a hotel room that time - they had a lot of prep to do and it just made sense to stay close so they could work. 

So what if Eddie’s disappointed every time they get back to the big city where they have their own places. Where Eddie can get Steve on the phone anytime, sure, but where that’s not enough anymore.

So what if, when he slides into Steve’s tight warmth and he whimpers into the pillows, it stirs something inside Eddie. Or, when he gazes into those molten caramel eyes, he searches for flecks of forest green that he’s convinced nobody else has ever seen. So what if, for years, it’s the closest thing he’s felt to being anything resembling… complete.

So what if Steve’s the first person he’d consider letting top him since that awful encounter he had years ago. So what if he wants to ask him if he would.

None of it means anything. It doesn’t.

Just like it doesn’t mean anything now, when Eddie’s dressing for yet another interview and going through his dresser looking for the perfect ripped black tee out of the hundreds he now owns. Absolutely not looking for the one Steve picked out for him that time for a photoshoot, telling him it was the hottest he’d ever looked.

He’s definitely not overthinking how he broke things off, bitchily yelling at Steve to go back to Indiana because,

“The rockstar life doesn’t suit you, dude.”

Or how Steve retorted,

“Have you ever considered that by pushing people away, the only thing you’re guarding yourself from is happiness?”

So what if Eddie sits and weeps, amongst piles of black leather and satin and chains, and tells himself,

“So what? I'm still a rock star, I've got my rock moves. And I don't need Steve. And guess what? I'm having more fun now that we're done.”

He snuffles and wipes snot from his nose with the heel of his hand.

“I'm gonna show him tonight. I'm alright, I'm just fine. And he’s a tool. And I don't want Steve tonight.”

He’s done the right thing. He’s sure of it…

Thanks so much for reading! There’s more Steddie minifics on my masterlist, if you’re interested (and I promise the majority are happier than this one 😆)

A/N2: This gets added to the list entitled Times I Wrote Something & Made Myself Cry. I’m so sorry… Also, what is this obsession I apparently have with SteddiexP!nk lyrics? IDK, if you work it out LMK 😆 Also, props to @morningberriesao3 for the idea of an ‘awful encounter’, I hope this doesn’t count as plagiarism but if it does LMK and I’ll totally change it! 🙏

Tagging my usuals, ILY (list is open) @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland

[melon-fodder]

Love You to Death • T. Hiragi

Warnings: angst, crying, insecurities, light sexual content

Word Count: 1k

Note: a @pixelcafe-network challenge! I was given the song Love You to Death by Type O Negative and did not think I’d make it in time, but then I decided harness my bad brain day into something creative. Some of the lines are taken by/based off of the lyrics. Dividers by @/adornedwithlight.

You struggle with it. Often. Wondering if you’re good enough for him—knowing you’re not.

He’s so strong, so honorable, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders while caring for you. You’re just another stressor, just another stomach ache.

Usually you can keep your doubts to yourself, work through them and rationalize. If Hiragi didn’t want to be with you, he wouldn’t be, right?

But there are some days when he can just tell. It’s the set of your jaw, the sag of your shoulders, the way you take things the wrong way and then punish yourself for it.

You don’t deserve him, and he deserves so much more than you.

That’s what you believe, anyway.

Hiragi on the other hand…

“Stop being so fucking mean to yourself,” he tells you, begs you. “Hate when you get like this. What can I do?”

“It isn’t about what you can do, Toma. It’s about what I can or can’t or should do. It’s—” you hiccup, frantically wiping at falling tears. You hate crying because of shit like this. You’re already such a burden, and now it feels like you’re manipulating him. “It’s all the ways I should be better for you.”

“You’re perfect for me,” he insists, taking hold of your wrists to pry your hands from your eyes. “Look at me.”

You don’t, not until he gently takes hold of your chin. “Baby… if I wasn’t happy, I’d talk to you about it. I promise.”

All you can do is try and fail to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Wish you’d do the same. Just talk to me.”

“I am happy with you. You make me happy. And you—you do so fucking much for me. I’m just s-so scared that one day you’re gonna—gonna realize that you’re tired of putting up with my bullshit.”

Your voice is all over the place, wet and warbling, squeaky then silent. You can’t control it, can’t control anything about yourself, it seems.

“I’m not putting up with anything,” Hiragi tries, “I’m not makin’ any sacrifices.”

“I don’t believe you,” you respond quietly. It’s not angry, nor is it argumentative. It’s a statement of fact because— “I don’t understand how you could, like, not get frustrated with me.”

Hiragi chuckles, the hand on your chin has moved to the back of your head to lightly scratch your scalp.

“Oh, I get frustrated with you, make no fuckin’ mistake. Just not for what you think.”

You stay silent, just stare at his handsome face, enjoying the weight of his hand in your hair.

“It’s not your little piles or your forgetfulness or your inability to be on fuckin’ time to anything,” he lists, and you clench your teeth to fight back more tears. “I don’t care about those things. Not anymore, anyway. It’s when you let shit fester and start spiraling and you don’t talk to me.”

You rest your head in his hand and shut your eyes, not surprised when you feel him wipe away the droplets streaming down your cheeks.

“Can’t help it,” your murmur. “Chronic overthinker.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware,” he says, and when you crack your eyes open again you see him smirking.

Fingers dig into your scalp with a little more force, scratching and making you hum in contentment. When he speaks again, his voice is laced with something a little more serious, a little more desperate: “How ‘bout you let me turn that brain off for a bit. Let me prove I mean what I’m sayin’.”

It’s hard to stay sad when he’s looking at you like that, brown eyes darkening a shade, sharp teeth nibbling on his lower lip.

“What’d you have in mind?”

Hiragi doesn’t answer, just pulls your face to his for a deep kiss. He licks the salt off your lips while wiping your puffy, tear-stained face with his thumbs then carefully pushes against you so that you lay back on the bed you’ve spent the last hour crying in.

“I love you so much,” you feel more than hear, the shape of the words molding to your mouth, wrapping around your heart and squeezing.

A knee between yours, he lightly presses it to your core, letting out a quiet groan when you grind down on it.

“Just tell me what you want, baby,” he breathes, kisses down your neck, tongue tracing the curve of it before he stops to suck a bruise onto your heated skin. “Your wish is my law.”

“I want…” you pause for a shaky inhale then guide his face back up to yours. “I just want you to love me. Forever. I don’t wanna lose you.”

Hiragi’s face softens. He sighs thoughtfully, blinks at you slowly before lowering himself to kiss you with a tenderness that makes you want to cry all over again.

“I do. And you won’t. There’s not a bone in my body that wants to leave you.”

His last kiss lands on your forehead, and then you’re both gazing at one another in a way that would make your friends dry heave.

“Close your eyes now, princess,” he says, voice low and full of desire, “m’gonna love you to death.”

You don’t fight him, don’t try to argue that you’re the one who should be begging him, serving him. No, you let him descend on you, let him do whatever he pleases because he makes you feel so good.

His tongue spells out sweetly sinful words on your most sensitive flesh, his fingers insistent and appreciative as they curl into spaces you only bear to him. He moves slowly and deeply, pouring himself into you in more ways than one—adoration and fondness and promises spilling inside of you in warm, blissful release.

As promised, Hiragi manages to turn your brain off, that network of unfathomable connections rendered absolutely useless as he destroys every doubt and self-loathing habit by way of mind-numbing, toe curling orgasms. You suppose there’s a reason the French refer to them as little deaths.

“Good enough for you?” he asks teasingly when you’re both breathless and dazed. His lips are pretty and kiss-swollen, a slick mess dripping between the two of you.

“Too good,” you reply, a lopsided smile spreading across your face. “Too good to me.”

Hiragi raises an eyebrow. “But not too good for you, right?”

“Right,” you nod. “Just perfect for me.”

[saccadesoup]

random tim thoughts. i have been thinking about him a lot lately

- gets flustered SO easily,,, tease him even slightly and that’s it. he’s bright red. stuttering. thinking ab it for the rest of the day.

- speaking of stuttering: had a really bad stutter as a kid. got put in speech therapy and now it’s mostly gone but it does come back slightly when he’s upset/stressed

- either has the most horrific, realistic, fear-inducing nightmares or unhinged fever dreams. like it’s either “i just watched faceless shadow figures tear into jay and hang his guts on the wall then i had to run but i couldn’t so they did it to me next” or “i had to rescue lady gaga who was also nick cage from an evil lizard then we made out”

- secretly enjoys ABBA (would rather die than admit it)

- COLLECTS VINYLS you cannot tell me this man isn’t a vinyl elitist. keeps them neatly organised and will pitch a fit if you even breathe on them wrong

- writes a shit ton of lyrics that’ll never see the light of day. it’s basically his version of writing poetry

- went to college for music composition but never put out any of the stuff he wrote (he thought people wouldn’t like it), it’s all kept on usb sticks in the attic tho cause he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of all the songs he poured his young little heart and soul into

- can fall asleep anywhere anytime during the day, but the MOMENT he gets into bed at night. he’s awake. cant sleep. not happening.

- generalised anxiety disorder i’m not elaborating

- overthinks every interaction he ever has

- however. he’s also a stubborn bastard. communicates in sarcasm and affectionate insults

- has the most beautiful, deep, rich singing voice... such a warm baritone. think david le'aupepe from Gang of Youths

- snores like an old man he literally sounds like a freight train

[biceratops7]

So about Buddy Holly…

Guys my heart is gonna burst 😭, so I was watching the trailer and pausing it every two seconds to catch every detail (you know, having a normal one), when I got a bit fixated on the music.

I had the idea to sing along to the parts of the score that were recognizably the melody to “Everyday” in order. (So the tune would play the equivalent of the first verse, then some vocalizing would happen, then the tune again but this time it’d be the second verse, so in and so forth.)

And you won’t believe what verse is playing over that scene where Aziraphale flashes back to the candlelight dinner, it’s a real shocker /s:

“Everyday, it's a-gettin' faster

Everyone said, "Go up and ask her"

Love like yours will surely come my way

A-hey, a-hey, hey”

…So uh… putting aside the fact that the implications are very adorable (encouraging Aziraphale to just have a nice time with Crowley and don’t overthink it), it also sure sounds familiar.

MARK MY WORDS, something Happened at that damn dinner. He worked up the courage to invite Crowley inside for what was an obvious date, then Crowley probably, you know, acted accordingly, and Aziraphale got overwhelmed. Like babe no offense but I feel like you went to fast for yourself, lmao.

So now let’s pay close attention to the actual part containing sung lyrics, with the only discernible lines being:

“everyday, it’s a gettin’ closer,

Going faster than a roller coaster,

Love like yours will surely come my way”

So interestingly “love like yours” plays specifically when the trailer reaches its climax, flashing image after image to tell us to expect some element of chaos and urgency in the events to come. This is maybe a reach but it’s gotten me even more convinced that the romance(s?) aren’t gonna simply be a very important B plot but directly effecting whatever strangeness/ danger is occurring in the main mystery.

…Look I’m really gunning for an “oops, we broke the universe with gay pining” angle, lol. First of all that would just be funny. Second of all, I think it would be utterly fascinating to explore any number of implications Aziraphale and Crowley’s whole thing has for the natural order of things. Or even the possibility that the “Great Plan” was about reconciliation instead of war, but perhaps more on that in a later post.